I’m not going to get all fancy with colors and fonts,  apparently not with paragraphs either. Me say something in 300 words of less? That’s like asking an Italian man how many hairs on on his chest. Or maybe I’ve only dated hairy Italian men. 
I’m an old member. Haven’t been on in years. I remember when we got excited to have 3000 people on here. 
I’m in trouble again. Probably the worst I’ve ever been. Now when I say suicidal, take it with a grain of salt and margarita. The thoughts come in and I am trained well enough to call them out. Which brings me here. I know when I need my people. 
I have semi-retired from my successful furniture business. I had to. I can’t work. Parenting is hard, being a wife is hard. I have secluded myself into my room. I’m seldom leaving the house. My mind goes all the time. I can’t shower, not really caring. I probably smell like a hobo. On the plus side I have lipgloss on. 
Medications have me crazy. I told hubby I want off this train. I want to be the beautiful woman I was. With eyebrows so hot women stop me to find out who did them. So I’m self centered, sue me. I want to be the mom my son showed off. “She’s our class mom and can paint with feathers.”  I want to be the wife my husband wants to make love to all night. I want to be the friend who was dependable. 
Being crazy sucks. It has its benefits, but for the most part it sucks. I can paint with any object. I’ve been on magazine covers. My work can be beautiful. My soul is in everything. I’ve done salons, nurseries, bedrooms…and they always return. “I need more.”  There’s beauty in me, but all I can see is the pain and crazy. I’ll stop here.