My name is Stacey and, according to my children, I’m not actually old. But they say it in a particular tone of voice…
I’m in my thirties, and officially crazy. But it’s a nice kind of crazy, generally controlled by medication and four years of therapy! In all seriousness, I suffer from Borderline Personality Disorder, a condition which means my brain is programmed to over-react to pretty much everything. My emotional reactions, in other words, are a bit volcanic and, once erupted, I can keep going for longer than you might expect. At least I don’t cause flights to get cancelled. Not often, anyway.
I write – obviously – and I also sing, dance and act the fool. Having spent over 2 years hospitalised without my shoe-laces, I’ve learned that being happy is what counts most in life. I’m assisted in this by the following supporting cast:
- Porglet Maximus, my eldest daughter (born 2005). She describes herself as “I’m just curious about everything, Mummy. I can’t help it.”
- Porglet Minimus, my youngest daughter (born 2007). Everything about Minimus is bouncy, from her curly hair right down to her fidgety feet. She loves hugs.
- Lovely Boyfriend. ‘Nuff said.
- Mad Mutt. Again, ’nuff said.
- The Gormlet, Lovely Boyfriend’s daughter who recently called me “second mum”, much to my amazement and amusement.
I live in Scotland, which is lovely…apart from the Department of Work and Pensions who seem to think you need to be a gibbering, sweating wreck at all times to qualify as “mentally unwell”.
I started this blog to talk about writing, but have ended up talking mostly about mental ill-health. That’s fine with me because I like to help where I can. Some of my writing is aimed at ending the stigma of mental ill-health (see My Writing) and some is aimed at beating my own depression with Drunken Vikings (see my other blog).