To call the last two and a half years of my life "rough" would be a substantial understatement. I've been reduced to ashes not once but twice. The first time took away my ability to function, the second took my will to live.
I'm not only finding my way back to "me" but also to what I loved so much before all of this began: dolls. It's been interesting to say the least so I thought I'd share my journey with you all. I'm not looking for pity or kudos. I'm actually quite apprehensive of interacting with large numbers of people. Plainly put, it scares the shit out of me. You'll come to understand why.
Some posts will be chronological, some experiences as they come up. What I express here will be alternately sad to depressing as hell, funny, informative, relatable, inspiring, and offensive (you thought I cursed before?? HA!), but at the end of the day, maybe my story will help someone else and that is why I'm doing this.