Woke up with the usual heavy fatigue and feeling like I only slept an hour. It has been so much worse lately. I don't even have so-so days anymore. I did perk up in the middle of my day yesterday, but even when I perk up, it's still not normal. Tom is still sure that I'm going to get my energy back eventually, but that it will be a gradual thing with no quick fix. I'm asking myself the same questions I asked with the anxiety. What are all the culprits, and what could possibly fix it? Technically, I never did fix the anxiety. It just fizzled out on its own as my hormones settled. The problem is that this is chronic fatigue and not about changing hormones. Chronic fatigue has a less than 10% chance of going away. So if he ends up right, then he's more psychic than I am because I feel incredibly hopeless right now, and I wonder how many more years I can live this way. It's absolutely horrible to have this constant, all-encompassing, crushing fatigue and brain fog. I'm never given problems in life that I can fix. They may not last forever, but they sure do last a long time, and as I said, I fear that this one is forever.

No leaks, but I did have my sleep broken up. Part of that might be my fault because I didn't move the phone. I was up for a little while but not too long. I don't think it was even for an hour. Then my sleep was disrupted again a couple of hours later when I had a horribly sad dream and was up for over an hour. It was just so incredibly sad because in the dream, Tom and I were younger—like perhaps in our forties—and had only been together 10 years when he decided to dump me. A split second later, I was back out west but somewhere in Nevada. Over the phone, I arranged for free room and board in a mini hotel if I helped out with cleaning and in the diner on the main floor. The place was owned by a couple around 80 years old. As I rode through the neighborhood to the hotel, I passed by many large and luxurious homes and envied their owners.

Upon entering the diner, you stepped into a guinea pig's pen that was two or three feet deep and walled off by wire mesh, lol. Then you had to step over that, and then you were in a hamster's cage, which was of similar size. After you stepped over the second wire mesh wall, you were in the diner. 

I had just one suitcase with me, which was all I could take, and as I wheeled around, I found the woman who owned the place and introduced myself. Her husband or someone else working there took my suitcase to what would be my room, and then I was to join her, her husband, and other family members at a large table for breakfast or lunch.

Her granddaughter was present, who appeared to be around 10, and the woman said, “This kid is special. Mess with her and you get dead.” I smiled with understanding, knowing she was referring to anyone in general who may consider harming the child and not me personally. 

Then I had the ridiculous hope that she and her husband would somehow grow fond enough of me to take me under their wing and leave me some of their inheritance, but I knew deep down it would go to the three or four kids they had.

I hadn't yet told the woman about my sleep disorder and wondered if I should be upfront about it or let her get to know me a little bit and see that I was a good worker—until I was no longer able to be on days—then explain it and hope for the best. I decided to wait a bit.

Next, my mind drifted to Tom, and I felt so sad. I didn't think I would meet anyone ever again, but I asked myself if it would be smart to push them away if I did, or take another 10 years or whatever I could get with them. I thought of how I would never hear him laugh or see his smile again, and how he might grow old with no one to care for him, and it was just such a miserably sad dream. I'd rather the nightmares with giant spiders that grow wings and fly directly at me while I'm utterly paralyzed with fear, unable to run.

It's only because of Tom that I'm still alive. Believe me, I would love to end it all and my suffering, but then he really will grow old alone if I do that. I would still prefer not to go until he does, whenever that may be, and I'd say he has a good chance of hitting his 80s. I know that he wants to live as long as possible. Well, let's put it this way: if I really am being cursed, then he's going to get his wish, because this mysterious curse knows that the longer he lives, the longer I have to suffer.

In better news, I got more points from my health insurance for the wellness exam I had, and used them to treat myself to another handy kitchen gadget. That would be a food chopper that's normally $35. I've always wished my dicer would dice potatoes smaller because they're easier to fry that way.