I am 63.  I am artistic.  I am also a pack rat.  My collections overflow and my husband is overwhelmed by all of it.  I long for a simpler life, but find it very hard to throw away my treasures.  I enjoy thrift stores, yard sales, rummage sales and bargain tables, but I have to reign in my urge to buy, buy, buy.  My son is always on my mind.  If not for God and my own psyciatrist, I would have lost him long ago.  I see progress in him sometime, but I constantly fear for him.  I know I have been the instrument to get help for him, but at a very high cost to me.  Fibromyalgia interferes by robbing me of precious energy and causing me much pain...sometimes devasting pain.  My life has changed so much due to this illness.  Depression has been mostly managable during the last few years due to the medications and counseling.  I have learned much about my mental illness and my son's mental illness.  Education has helped tremendously, especially with easing tension between me and my son and me and my husband.  I journal regularly, but my journals have a scrapbook quality in that I add things that appeal to me, write about all sorts of things, feelings, etc.  I have one son, one daughter, 3 stepdaughters.  My husband and I raised all five children.  His wife died, leaving 3 preschool girls.  My first husband drank himself into massive brain poisoning, almost dieing from it.  He has been a ward of the state in a permanent nursing hospital for thirty years.  Raising our family was a huge strain on our married life, but we prevailed and are happy together.