When I was in my late 30s to early 40s and would sometimes get hyped up and act like I was still physically and emotionally quite young, I would sometimes chide myself for it and tell myself to “grow up” much like my mother often did. Now, here I am in my late 50s wishing I could tell myself to act and feel a little more grown up. Funny how life turns out at times.

I recently watched some old restored video clips on Facebook from over 100 years ago, and they were a fascinating glimpse into the past. It’s the kind of thing you don’t think much about when you’re young, but as you get older, you come to appreciate it more. There was one scene at a beach, and I couldn’t believe how those women and girls managed to wear such long, heavy dresses, long sleeves, and bulky hats on a hot, sunny day. They wore such attire everywhere, not just at the beach, and I didn’t see any women in the water. Some even wore regular shoes, which made me wonder if they swam back then.

Yesterday was a better day than the day before, and I had decent energy. We even made a quick trip to Publix.

Today, I don’t have as much energy, which isn’t surprising. I’m tired today—not the worst kind of tired, but definitely not as energetic as yesterday. This is normal for me, and while I try to find the good in having something that’s normal for us, it’s easier said than done because I haven’t found much good in it. It renders me lazy, and I struggle to see the benefit of that. On the other hand, I can’t imagine life with my old energy levels either. This is definitely who I am now. When I see the doctor on the 19th, if they can’t help me, acceptance will likely follow. I’ve resigned myself to this being my last-ditch effort to address my fatigue and sleep issues. Even if I can’t go on vacations or move, I’d rather be stuck here than in most of the places I’ve been in the past.

I’ve now lived in the East as long as I lived in the West. I left New England when I was 26 and spent 29 years in the West. Adding the 3 years I’ve spent in the Southeast makes it an even split, at least for now.

I’ve been having fun with AI generating titles for my old journal entries. I even let it choose titles for some of my current entries, although I don’t always like its choices, so I sometimes pick my own.

I had a dream where I sold a young girl a rug with a rat design on it, which I either made or bought, and later regretted.

In another part of the dream, we were living in our old house in Phoenix, and I observed a rat in the back room walking around its cage. Since we were about to move, it was temporarily housed in an aquarium, but the rat had long legs, almost like a cat. I was amused by its actions and tried not to laugh too loudly because Tom was asleep.

Then, I walked through the kitchen and was entering the living room when I saw the front door opening and two men standing outside. At first, I thought the door had blown open or wasn’t locked, but as it widened, I saw that they were detectives. One of them asked if I was who I was, and I said yes. The detective then extended their hand for a handshake, but instead of shaking it, I froze, feeling a mix of anger about the unlocked door and fear that I was going to be arrested.

“What's going on?” I asked, then quickly added, “Let me wake up my husband.” Although I didn’t know why, I felt I was in trouble and wanted Tom to know where I was if they took me away.

Then the dream ended, and I woke up relieved to realize it was just a crazy dream. Back when the freeloaders and their connections to law enforcement were using the law against me, I would have loved to wake up in the comfort and safety of my own bed, knowing it was just a horrible dream. I’ve never forgiven them for what they did to me and never will. If we were suddenly living in a lawless land…ohhh…