So I decided that the new bed by itself was too hard, and adding the mattress pad made it too soft. Therefore, we swapped back for good. I’m going to wake up overheated and with my heart pounding from time to time no matter what I sleep on.

I don’t feel as good today as I did yesterday. I’m not officially anxious, but I’m close. Let me guess…this is where it all goes downhill from here and my anxiety gets progressively worse, right? Well, I better get used to it once and for all, because from what I read, I still have years of suffering ahead of me since I don’t know what I could possibly take that’s going to make me feel better without the side effects.

I was reading more about the difference between PMS and perimenopause. I totally believe the part about the medical community often failing to recognize what’s going on and being quick to write out a prescription for anxiety. If I hadn’t been smart enough to figure out I was in perimenopause, would ANY doctor have yet to bring up the subject on their own? Somehow I doubt it, and that’s both sad and a little scary. It’s even scarier to know that yeah, this might go away someday, but there are no guarantees it will. Also, if it ever does go away, I’m looking at 5-10 years of this shit before it does. I honestly don’t think I can do it.

Now I know what Misha meant. I remember back when we were cellies how she was having trouble getting her psych meds delivered to her just like I was having to fight for my allergy and asthma medication, and she once made a comment about feeling “totally out of control.” I didn’t get this at the time because she seemed so normal and with it. But now I understand all that silent inner turmoil she was experiencing. You don’t have to appear crazy or abnormal in any way to be feeling anxious or depressed inside.

The floors aren’t finished yet we got some things done today. Tom picked up the groceries, we changed the rats’ cage, and we changed the bedroom air filters. He also tweaked some of the sound settings on my computer.

Last night I dreamed that this tall thin guy in his late 40s kept breaking into the house while Tom was at work. The house, as usual, didn’t look like this house. I don’t know if I hid from him while he was inside the house or what.

One day I spotted him in his truck at an intersection and I approached him screaming at him with two spray bottles in my hands. I don’t know what the substances were, but I knew he would know.

The guy had been breaking in through the floor underneath the washer and dryer. Tom blocked off his point of entry, saying that he would get a black eye if he tried to get through there again. I asked him if he thought that would make him try harder to get in by other means and he said it would “help.”

So I decided I’d had enough and that I was going to be lying in wait for the bastard.

The dream woke me up and I had a little trouble falling back asleep. I’m just worried those 3 or 4 good days of good sleep and calmness are over for a while. I hope I’m wrong, but I know my shit luck. I just don’t get off that easy.

I went out for a walk this evening. It was cold and breezy, but nice. People still have their Christmas lights up and I’m still hearing firecrackers. Do people realize that it’s no longer 2016?