It’s getting close to beach day (thank God as I need to get the fuck out) but I thought I would write one more day and then start saving stuff for the road.

I’ll be getting out for a bit this morning when the grocery store opens. Meanwhile, I still feel as miserable as ever. I slept worse last night than I did the night before, waking up on fire and having to pee twice. I do feel anxious but not as anxious as I did a couple of days ago and my heart is mostly back to double digits. Still, when the hell is my suffering ever going to end for more than a few days, weeks or months??? If something up there said in 2014 “May most of your days be pure hell on Earth” it definitely got its way.

I want to believe that I’ll get better and my body will adapt to this dose, but it’s hard to know for sure. I have no idea how long this is going to go on and how it’s gonna play out in the end. I still fear being tortured by this on and off for the rest of my life. Sometimes I wonder if I made a big mistake in not killing myself in the hotels when we first came to California.

I restarted my Gennev supplements and also the black cohosh until that beats up on my stomach.

I had chest pain again and Tums didn’t help it. It had to back off on its own. I also had a bit of neck pain, but I don’t think either symptom means anything’s wrong with my heart. Probably just stress or something I ate.

Right now my body temperature is somewhat stable, even if it’s subject to change at any second. I’m not too anxious, but I’m definitely feeling glum, doubtful, and hopeless. I’m having the runs too. Sometimes I wonder if I would feel better if there were more people around. I mean more people that I knew and trusted and felt comfortable with. I often wonder how it would affect me psychologically if we lived in a building, for example, where noise wasn’t a problem and I still had space and privacy, but there was more than just Tom around, and some of the people were doctors too.

Someone wrote in their journal that there’s no substitute for family, and in some ways they’re correct. Sometimes I still think it sucks that his family turned out to not give a damn and mine were the mean, judgmental, negative, hypocritical, narcissistic, lying, abusive, selfish assholes they were. Because of it, I sometimes feel like something is missing in my life but I still have no regrets about not having kids.

I just wish I could feel good most of the time and be at peace with my life and accept whatever is to come. But it’s not that easy. If I’m meant to suffer for the rest of my life, I can’t accept that. I can’t be OK with it if Tom were to suffer. I can’t say I don’t fear death or what may lie beyond.

Read an article saying that those who have bad dreams during middle age have a higher risk of becoming demented later on in life. I’m definitely the queen of bad dreams, alright. Laurie H was looking to shoot me in last night’s dreams. I don’t know how I knew it was her. I either sensed it or someone told me beforehand.

I was sitting in a place that was shaped like an L, much like one of my Springfield apartments. I was in the kitchen and the living room was dark, so I couldn’t see into it. But I heard the floor creak in there and knew it was her coming to shoot me. I quickly dashed into the bedroom and woke some woman who was sleeping in there to alert her.

Then I had a dream where housekeepers were coming to clean either a large hotel room or an apartment of mine. I asked that they please be on the lookout and careful of the large brown rat I had that was loose in the room, assuring them that he was harmless. Then the rat ran toward me and let me pick him up, even though he was squealing.