My husband and I went to Loveland, Ohio today to see a real castle built by hand by one guy (allegedly by a French knight, but that turns out to be more legend it seems). Here are a few of my favorite photos from the tour. First, the castle itself:
Me, trying to look regal sitting in the throne chair, but instead doing a good giraffe impression:
Me in black and white, dancing on the top of the turret:
The cute, soft little buddy I found:
We had fun, but now I’m worn out!
I wrote the following while I was pretty hypomanic. Thought I would share more as a glimpse into my life and hopefully educational about bipolar 2:
I AM bipolar, I’m officially crazy. I can’t seem to control myself, but on the medicine I feel SO much better, who cares if I’m hypomanic? Not sure I wanna tell the doctor the truth. Thank God I have my husband to keep me in check. I AM perpetuating the cycle. Thank God I never had kids. My muscles twitch and I can’t control them. I feel like I have Parkinson’s, but I’m good with that. I am stressed the fuck out, but I don’t care. I don’t want to sleep, but I have a magic bullet called Seroquel. I just worry I’ll get fat, but how fat can I get when I can’t sit still? Every dance in creation I think I’ve done today, even if it was spazzy. Some might look at me and say I’m a danger. I look at me and say I’m alive.