Life has been going pretty well for me, at this point.   My wonderful husband took me on another adventure, in late November.  It did have a couple of tear-filled moments, but it was wonderful, nonetheless.
     We rented a little log cabin again, in the Berkshires of Massachusetts.  There was no television, or internet, or phone service in our cabin, only electricity and a wood stove.  Honestly, this escape, was amazingly restful.
     During our stay, we went to 3 museums, the Yankee Candle Village, a pub, and also a local restaurant / lounge.  My husband drove us hundreds of miles to view the beautiful landscape and mountains.  We even drove through Vermont.  My husband cooked our meals, over a fire, and we listened to a lot of favorite music, through an iPad.  It was magical, and even snowed while we were there.
     Like I said before, there were tears, from me, on 2 occasions.  On one particular day, we went to a museum, and then went to lunch.  My husband drove us to another Museum, to visit, and I broke down.  “I can’t do this”, I said.  I had had enough stimulation and excitement in one day.  I discovered that I am a “2 place”  kind of person.  When it comes to anything, that I consider very stimulating, even basic shopping errands, I am totally done, after going to 2 places.  After this, I desire to return to my “cocoon”, my home, where I feel comforted and safe.  So, we returned to the 2nd museum, on another day, which worked out well.
     And on the last day of our little cabin stay, I cried again.  I did not want to leave the beautiful experience of our little cabin stay in the woods.  I felt like a little kid and was very surprised by the fact that I broke down.  But my wonderful husband explained it to me in his wonderful way.  “You were starting to feel so safe here, so at-home, in our little log cabin.  Of course you don’t want to leave”, he said.
 

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    Thanks for sharing this honey, I love your description about not wanting to leave!!

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I’m Christine

My name is Christine and I am almost 45 years old. This is my very first blog. I am writing because I feel like I am living in a closet. But I am not gay, I am mentally ill, I have Schizoaffective Disorder. I also have PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder). Not many people know this about me. I have been fearful of “coming out”, because, frankly, the human population has not always been kind to people with mental illness. But isn’t it time that we come to accept all of our bothers & sisters, regardless of their differences?

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