My sister’s fibromyalgia and rheumatoid arthritis are at their worst and she needs a pain patch as well as an oral one. They’re going to be cutting nerves soon, but she still may need a morphine pump because they can’t do anything for the bones and muscles. So she’s understandably not too happy now. Wish there was something I could do to make it all go away!

Worried about my own health when they do a full blood panel on me in May. Not that they’re going to uncover something new that’s wrong, but I fear my cholesterol and thyroid numbers are going to be worse. I “feel” more hypo, but I’d rather that than the OMG intense anxiety the higher doses cause me. No way in hell I’m going to take a chance on a higher dose after finally getting stable again after the hell I went through which typically takes a few months to fully recover from. Especially not while my body’s hormones are changing as I go through perimenopause. I do not want to bring back that anxiety that was so bad it was like literally living in fear. Worst thing I ever felt in my life. And the scariest. But having frizzy hair and never being able to lose weight is far from a crisis. So I’d rather be a little hypo than suffer the horrible terror I went through.

As an “experienced hypo” I can bet my numbers will be worse. My hair is thinning on top by the hairline, the hair feels like a pile of straw, and I’m cold a lot. I know age and peri can also be a factor, but I’m expecting bad numbers.

The so-called wallpaper on that Keurig model is really just a choice in color background. I think I’ll settle for their cheaper model in purple.

When we were talking about our parents, I brought up a horrible memory I have of waking up as a little kid to the sound of my dad beating up on either Larry or Tammy (his belt was his usual weapon of choice) and my mother coming into the room to comfort me while she let her husband do this.

But Tammy looked at me, frowned with confusion and said, “Dad never belted me.”

Could it have been Larry then? Even though Dad was much more passive overall than Mom was, he was the one who got a little more physical when we’d piss him off bad enough, which luckily wasn’t that often. I even remember an instance when I was wide awake and he flew up the stairs to attack one of them. Mom was more of a slap-you-across-the-face kind of person. Not a belt-your-ass kind of person. I swear I also remember seeing my father slap my mom one time. Her piss poor excuse for him later on was the stress put on him by fear of his heart condition.

Great way to deal with it… just smack your wife as if it’s her fault your fucking heart is bad. Yeah, I’m really proud to have been the daughter of Arthur and Dureen O.

Either way, for every one time they got physical with us there were 100 times my mother would verbally or emotionally abuse us.

But it isn’t what they did that’s the main point of this entry. The point is my wondering which memories aren’t really “memories” at all, but perhaps dreams or misconceptions? We don’t form memories as little kids like we do when we’re older. So… how the hell did I know enough Spanish at just age 16 to impress a social worker of mine who came to see me when I was with Anne and Harry? I have no doubt that this memory is real and that this did in fact happen. I remember how she was excitedly telling someone she brought with her that she might have been training how I could even affect the accent.

At 16? I know I started learning ASL when I was 15, but who the hell would have taught me Spanish in an all-white, English-speaking little bedroom town in which anyone who knew other languages probably knew Hebrew or Yiddish? Really thought I didn’t start learning Spanish until I was around 19 or 20. This is because I wasn’t in the public schools long enough to take it there. I had to teach myself.

If there’s one sure memory (or a series of memories) I wish to hell I could delete from my brain it would be the severe anxiety attacks I had. The more I go without incident, since mine was medically induced, the better and more confident I feel, but I still have the awful memories and the fear of it happening again. But if I couldn’t remember then, then I wouldn’t know what to fear.

Looked at the weather. I’d say I’m going to be in for one noisy day, or at least a noisy morning.

Had this dream that I entered a huge building and was totally lost. I just couldn’t find room 350 like I was trying to do for whatever reason. I asked a woman if there was an illustration of the building online that could help me and she said there was.

After dark, I was in a corner room on one of the upper floors of what might have been the same huge building. It was a tiny room with a twin bed and I guess I was staying there. I gazed out the door and into the darkened hallway and I got a little nervous when I saw someone heading down the hall in my direction. I shut the door and held my breath but no one approached the door much less knocked. I was actually worried about it being a fat woman that I was rude to earlier.

Later…

The lady across the street in the gray house has been having more and more company. Last night that loud white truck that comes to visit her regularly left in the middle of the night. There are two vehicles in front lately that I’ve never seen before, and two work trucks plus a car at the house that sold. The corner house is working on her flooding damage, too.

Really wondering when I can have the luxury of going a whole month without having to deal with anybody’s projects around here. Projects, projects, projects! I’m sure the landscaping is next. Then there’s the traffic, or more appropriately, the door slamming. Really wish people could just get what they need out of their vehicles and leave it at that. Or at least leave the damn door open.

I should have known better than to re-add Lori and her cousin Cindy. They noticed me around when I unblocked them. Nothing against either one of them, but they make such pests of themselves! Cindy, who rambles on and on faster than I can respond, wants me to call her. No thanks. Again, why do I get all this attention from people as ugly as them while the Nane’s and Christiane’s out there always have better things to do? I would still rather nice and ugly than hot bitches.