Woke up feeling the most refreshed and the least anxious in days. Just a touch of “butterflies” early on. Enjoying it while it lasts. Tom is 100% sure and guarantees this will end someday. It better! It’s the most horrible thing I ever endured physically and emotionally. Honestly, I don’t know how many more years of this shit I can take.

He got the days off he wanted, so he’ll be off from July 2-10 using only 4 of his days off. This means that if I can get past the second dose, I will take 5 doses during this time, probably on odd days.

Figuring it was the right thing to do, but knowing they wouldn’t actually call to cry about their “wonderful” daddy, I gave Sarah and Becky my number. As expected, I got a “thank you” from Becky and nothing from Sarah. If people don’t appreciate me in their lives, then why don’t they unfriend me? It could be her grieving and nothing personal, but really, if you don’t want to stay in touch, just dump me. I think I’m pretty used to it by now. I just hope she’s not staying connected out of a sense of duty or anything like that. But the best remedy for those you don’t hear from (unless you ask them a question or something) is for them not to hear from you.

Instead of a simple “thanks,” Sarah’s plastering more and more of the same selfies while her beloved daddy’s dying, and yes, I know this sounds wicked judgmental (that’s part of why I switched to private writing), but it’s a true sign of narcissism. It could also be a low self-image thing, from what I read, where she’s fishing for compliments. She does get them, though I’ve stopped the compliments only because they all look the same after a while and I’m not hearing much in return from her. I hate one-sided relationships of ANY kind.

I reconnected with my top PB besties but haven’t heard from the old lady. Funny too, since I recently had a bad dream about her. Either way, I didn’t feel right about abandoning them for no good reason.

The back light is out. I jumped and waved and it never saw me. Made my 2 rounds around the circle and did my 15 minutes of Bowflexing and 15 seconds of planking (any more hurts my back and abs).

You can’t leave the Bluetooth speaker on, so I learned. After a while, it beeps like a busy signal on a phone.

Later…

Sarah did “like” a post of mine after all where I claim to plan to be too busy to check in much this summer (made visible only to her), so please email or call if anyone needs me. Did she like the part about me not being around? Or the offer to email/call?

Decided I needed a new “game” of sorts to help distract me from my anxiety whenever I start to feel wound up or a little down. For the longest time, I’ve wished I could get into role-playing, but unless I were ever as crazy as Kim, I’m just too old to play pretend games. I’d love to be able to play “make-believe” in the way that I could as a child. As a child, we’re not only quicker to believe what others tell us, but what we tell ourselves as well. With age, however, we tend to lose that brainwashing power. It’s not that I ever believed my pretend games were real or that my imaginary friends weren’t just that… imaginary. But I saw my made-up fun in a whole different light than I could ever see it as an adult.

But interviews… interviews like what Andy would pretend to do as a famous rock star, and what I would sometimes do as well… is a different story. It’s a form of verbal journaling, be it my past, present or future that I may be discussing.

So I chose to do these things when I was lying in bed awaiting sleep. At these times one’s mind tends to wander a bit more and I’m more vulnerable to negative thoughts. Therefore, I pick a person I know or have seen, and pick a random topic to “discuss.” I could talk pet rats with Doc A or languages with Stacey.

As only Tom knows, my talking to pictures was NO pretend game. But it got me rethinking the afterlife again. The pics were the hosts to the entities that dwelled within. But WHO were they? Spirits of the dead? I guess I’ll never know.

I thought I had some dream about winning a vacuum, but I know it doesn’t mean anything.

I also dreamed of riding an electric bike. It went the same slow steady speed of about 5-6 MPH.

Then I felt a lump in my upper right boob in the next dream. I felt that area again a few minutes later and it was gone.

Then Tom and I were sitting in a room by a large window. Andy walked by and waved to us without turning his head. We just laughed at this 70’s hairstyle.

Then I was in our house, which didn’t look like our house as usual (we don’t have a slider), and saw Tom put some recyclables into the regular trash. I told him to stop putting recyclables in there. Then he went out a slider and into a dark chilly morning. A man stood across the street with his hands in his pockets and it seemed like we were in the mainstream.

Then I had some dream about a power outage while sleeping, and peeking into our neighbor’s place, which seemed to be just another room in our “house,” and it didn’t belong to Bob and Virginia. I guess they were about to move, but still had the place set up. Large pictures were on the walls and there was some furniture present, too. Tom told me I should return my barrette to them. I took it out of my hair and placed it on a table by their door.

Later…

Miss Nosy did some more digging into Dr. A. Let’s see… married, no kids (I think), 2.5 stars on Mercy, 3.5 on Yelp, loves to camp, travel, run and bike ride. They all love the same shit, only Dr. O added cooking and gardening, Dr. D playing with the kids.

Well, she’s going in my July CampNano story along with Stacey. Was thinking about the interview game thing and might do something along the lines of that. A wants to learn all she can about someone’s life, for example, cuz she’s involved in a secret medical experiment to see if memories can be altered/destroyed. Then Stacey can rescue her and try to help her figure out which memories are real vs. fake.

I’ve really got to get back on with Shane, though, once I catch up on journaling. Amazing how one who works at home, has no kids, and no real friends can often have so much to say.

Like the fact that I created a document to back up my tweets. I also back them up on my-diary and Prosebox.

Later…

Wanting to understand more of the “logic” American law is based on, I read around a bit. Well, the philosophy is this: Physical wounds heal, but emotional ones don’t. This is why violence isn’t taken nearly as seriously as non-violent crimes and rapists get less time than I got for saying shit no one wanted to hear. A woman can beat the shit out of her BF/husband for cheating and get just days, while thieves get months or even years.

Sorry, but their belief system makes no sense. If you beat someone up; sure their wounds are going to heal, but you mean to tell me they won’t have the memories and be emotionally damaged by the attack as well? If you called me names when I was a kid, of course that would have hurt. Today, I don’t give a shit if some stranger online or on the street calls me fat and ugly. But if they shoot, stab or beat me, that’s going to do a LOT more damage than any nasty words could ever do.

Sometimes I wonder if some of these crazy judges give crazy sentences just to get famous. Getting famous in a good way is like winning the lottery, but getting infamous only takes a second. Just threaten the wrong person online and you’ll be all over the news worldwide, for example. But what a great way for the cock to get famous while remaining within the “law,” huh?

Saw something about witches hexing that rapist who will be serving just 3 months (to lessen the impact on him, said the sick judge). What good will that do? And so what if the American Swimming Association or whatever the hell it’s called banned his membership for life? He can still swim elsewhere. I wish someone would kill him, but if no one killed Casey Anthony, why would anyone kill him? People can only wait till he rapes again and hope that the next time (since rapists can’t stop or be rehabilitated) he’s put away for years if not for good, and raped silly in prison before being killed, thus saving the taxpayers on his food.

Don’t know the details or even what the name is, but someone’s suing Ellen Degeneres for making fun of their name. Now THAT’S a case that may receive some punishment, even against a rich celeb. You know how it is, feelings matter more than the actual damage/crime.

Later…

So I ended up having anxiety when I first got up yesterday, then it backed off from 6-midnight, then returned for about 4 hours till Tom got up. This is the butterfly kind of anxiety. Not the booming heart or anxiety you feel welling up in your chest that’s more associated with when I was on too much levothyroxine.

I wanted to go to bed without lorazepam but felt too wound up and as I’d never get to sleep, so I took it and slept about 9 hours. Fitbit says 8 hours and 26 minutes to be exact.

Sure enough, about an hour after I got up, the butterflies flew outa my adrenaline gland to annoy the fuck out of me till I roasted chickened them away. Had a headache too, and took one ibuprofen. When that didn’t help I took another, even if it meant I might be drowsy.

The emotional tapping isn’t as effective as it was (all good things come to an end while so many bad things don’t), and so much for the power of prayer. There definitely either isn’t a God or it doesn’t give a shit about me. If it did it wouldn’t be letting me suffer so much for so long in the first place.

Again, gotta wonder what I did to deserve this. AND why it keeps coming back. AND when/if it’ll ever stop for good. The not knowing is what’s very hard on me, like when we didn’t know when he’d find work again. He’s totally sure it’s the peri and that it’ll be over someday, and while this makes sense to me (even if A might not believe it), how can I be sure? Yes, it’s hard to believe I’d become this whole different person for no reason just like I tried to explain to C, but what if I’m one of those flukes destined to be tormented till the day I die and no one can ever really help me?

Last night I dreamed I had a job (don’t know what) and I wondered if it would be as easy as I thought it would to just disappear once my schedule prevented me from working.

I also dreamed I was in some place with Andy and Jessie. I’m not sure how many rooms there were, but in the bedroom was one long bed, like a super huge king-size bed, and that’s where we were to sleep that night. The next morning we were to continue on with our travels, be it going home or to wherever we were going next.

The bedroom was off of a large room in which I started to stack a few chairs but then changed my mind. I shuffled some stuff around the bedroom, including a large wad of cash that might’ve been Jessie’s. While I did this I figured I’d have trouble sleeping and would be up listening to music long after they crashed.