I am so fucking frustrated that I have the overwhelming urge to beat my head into the wall, pull my hair out of my head, or do something. Yesterday was a great day. I had wonderful energy that lasted even after I scrubbed the kitchen down. To top it off, the honker left shortly after 1:00 a.m., and I was like, yeah, the honk’s gone! Today is the exact opposite.

I was on track for what quite possibly could have been another day with decent energy until the fucking mower woke me up an hour or two before I would have woken up on my own. I tried to get back to sleep without success. Then I hoped that, just like in the good old days, I would magically perk up an hour or two later—but of course I didn’t, and I’ve been left to feel miserable all day like I always am after sleeping shitty or having my sleep cut short.

To make matters worse, Tom had to hang on the phone for quite a while just to be told they need me to give him permission to find out more information about the sleep study—and we couldn’t get the cost anyway until 30 days before the study. I’m almost tempted to say let’s just save hundreds if not thousands of dollars, forget the CPAP, and just kill myself, because I know without a single shred of doubt that my sleep is cursed. I just don’t know how or why, but it’s obviously going to continue to follow me for the rest of my life.

Even if the CPAP could help with my breathing, whatever’s cursing my sleep will simply use other avenues to disrupt it. I believe that wholeheartedly. It’s just too damn obvious. It’s as obvious as the fact that I couldn’t just happen to be right about so many things I’ve sensed and dreamed about. Coincidences like that just don’t happen. There is always, always something disrupting my sleep. 90% of the time I sleep, there’s a problem. If it happened once in a while, then sure—I could see that because it happens to the best of us. But once a clear and obvious pattern forms, that pretty much tells me that’s how it’s going to be, no matter what I do. If it isn’t outside sources waking me up, it’s me. Breathing issues, nightmares, having to get up to pee and not being able to fall back asleep, outside motors, thunderstorms—you name it, and I wake up. If you took away all these things and somehow made it impossible for them to wake me up, they would simply be replaced with new things. There is just no getting around it.

I worry that my time to end it is getting closer because I can’t do this for another 15 to 20 years. I simply can’t. It is doing systematic damage to my brain, mood, and stomach, and I just can’t take it anymore. I said out of frustration that sleep issues would literally be the death of me, but I now believe this without a doubt. I just can’t stand to wait around for another 5 to 10 years for it to cause me to have a stroke or a heart attack.

I’m forced to spend so much time lying around, and everything I do is a struggle so much of the time. I struggle just to prepare food to eat on days like this. Then I have to lie down and rest just to feel like I can get back up and run the dishes through the dishwasher. Then I have to lie down again just to muster up the strength to throw myself in the shower. This is fucking ridiculous!

If it weren’t for speech-to-text, I wouldn’t even have the energy to do this entry—which may or may not get edited anytime too soon. I’ll backdate it if I have to.

I have become more limited than ever in what I can do, regardless of money. Really, I can’t take it much longer. 

Don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to take the estrogen either. Although I understand they’re usually harmless, I had tons of PVCs yesterday, and they’re still pretty unnerving. Next time around, I’m just going to dab a small glob on my fingertip up there and see if that will be enough to keep the burning at bay without making my heart feel like it’s literally doing flip-flops in my chest. If that doesn’t work, I’ll message Rhonda or just live with the occasional burning.

I’m following a group on Facebook about languages, and there was a post saying that Turkish is a genderless language. I was surprised—I thought only English was genderless. So I jumped back on Duolingo and decided to check it out. Nane was studying Turkish when we met on a different language site. I remembered some of the unique markings and letters because of her. I’ve only done one lesson, but I only got one wrong. Because my brain doesn’t work like it used to—between being older and all the sleep deprivation—I can’t remember as many words as fast as I used to when I first began learning ASL and Spanish. So I don’t know how seriously I’m going to take it. It’s supposed to be good exercise for the brain, but still.

After watching the honker make five attempts to line his truck up so he could hitch the trailer to it, I thought he would head for the entrance like last time, but he headed toward Colleen’s place instead. I’m still completely mystified as to what’s going on there. If it weren’t for the fact that it was definitely her in the Valentine dance pictures, I would think she just had a lookalike, since the person he sees lives in the opposite direction of the Colleen that I looked up. My only guess is that she’s in an open relationship or some kind of platonic relationship. I wonder if he stopped by her place to say goodbye or because she’s going up with him and maybe flying back if she doesn’t stay until November. Well, if she’s seeing more than just one guy, I wouldn’t think she’d stay until then—but like I said, I’m totally confused as to who’s who. I’m just glad he’s out of the picture for the next half a year. It’s going to suck when he returns because I have a bad feeling he’s going to spend months working on the other lanai.

Back to my usual problem. I’d love to think I’ll get the CPAP, get my energy back, and we’ll be in a position to move maybe next summer—since I have a slight vibe about August of next year—but I think the reality is that nothing’s going to give me my energy back to where I can fully function more often than not, and I’m going to reach my breaking point.

This is fucking ridiculous. No one’s this unlucky with sleep. No one.