The torture goes on. I’ve already drafted my suicide note to make it look like Tom was completely blindsided by my actions, since we live in a world where we love to blame others for other people’s actions. I thought about going tomorrow when he donates, but decided to get the damn allergy testing done that we regret not getting done sooner, and seeing what the ENT has to say about that and my nasal valves. I can probably get the nasal valve surgery and a sleep apnea mouthguard, but I still don’t see what can be done for my allergies. I can’t have shots, and I don’t know that there’s a medication that would help that I could actually tolerate.

I just can’t get my fucking body to shut up when I’m sleeping. It snores, it snorts, and that’s not counting allergies, chipmunks, leaks, nightmares, and other stuff. The second time around, I wasn’t able to put up with the large wedge pillow. Both of the wedge pillows are too firm. So now I’m doubling up on regular pillows. I don’t know if I’m elevated enough, but it’s more comfortable to be gently elevated than firmly elevated to where it puts a kink in either my neck or my lower back.

My stomach is completely trashed because of the shitty sleep. I’ve been having the runs like crazy. Believe it or not, I’ve slept on and off for 15 to 16 hours since early in the morning. That’s how exhausted I ended up getting. Both of us regret not getting the allergy testing done sooner. No matter what my schedule is, you damn well better believe I’m going to make this appointment on the 28th of next month!

I need help or to end my life if I can’t get that help. Something’s got to give. I’ve either got to get better or get out of this world because I’m tired of being robbed of living and enjoying life. There’s so much I want to do that I just can’t do because of the constant exhaustion from the regular sleep disturbances. There’s also a sleep dentist here in town that we’re going to contact, but with my shit luck, we’ll have to travel a bit to get a mouthguard.

Oh, my fucking god. All I want to do is write right now that I finally have a little bit of energy to do it, and my health issues won’t even let me do that much without interfering. I thought I was done with the runs, but I just had another round. I swear something out there does not want me living my life. There’s so much I could be doing that I just don’t have the energy for anymore.

It was really sweet of Tom to offer to take over the cleaning on the days I don’t have the energy, but if I’m going to be that disabled, I would really rather just not exist. I’m just so, so fucking tired of suffering. My brain and body are at their wits' end. My body is exhausted, and my brain can’t think straight. I’m 60, and I have been suffering for 12 years now. I can’t take it anymore and living like a disabled person.

So once I see that the doctors can’t help no matter what they do and I’m still not able to sleep, it’s time to go. I didn’t want it to end this way. I wanted to stay alive as long as he did, but I can’t put myself through another 15+ years of hell. I just can’t do it. Besides, what’s to say there wouldn’t be something else if I could suddenly sleep like a log? I only went into a whole new problem once the anxiety lifted. Clearly, I was meant to suffer. There’s no getting around it, especially when it comes to my sleep. I’m never going to sleep normally again.

I can no longer go to the beach, clean consistently, cook consistently, use my door exerciser consistently, take outdoor walks consistently, and I haven’t been able to hit the road for two days now. My book that would have been done by now is still sitting unfinished, along with the drawers and closets I’ve been wanting to organize for months. I’m just not getting anything done. If I’m not going to be allowed to live, be productive, and feel human, then fuck it.

I don’t know what, if anything, may lie beyond after I die, but I feel like I’m fighting back and not giving in to whatever’s cursing me by ending my life. It can’t pick on me anymore if I just say fuck it, I’m not going to live if I’m not going to be able to actually live my life. I’m living as if I’m a disabled person, and it isn’t fair to me, and it isn’t fair for my husband to have to deal with it when he could be enjoying his retirement and living his best life. Instead, he has to stop and care for his disabled wife and fill in for some of the things she can no longer do. That’s no way to live.

I just can’t break free of this endless sleep curse. I get two to three good days, and then it’s right back to the same old shit, setting me back all over again. What’s the point of living if I can’t actually live?

To top it off, the refrigerator is definitely broken, but here’s the thing. Instead of shelling out over half a grand right now, he got a $200 freezer that can go in the laundry room once we get the new refrigerator. This way, we can take our time and get what we really want. I would love to have a smart refrigerator. The freezer is rated to go in garages and can withstand temperature changes and hold food longer during power failures.

Meanwhile, the refrigerator isn't 100% broken. It’s just too warm on both sides, but the freezer side is in the 40s, which is ideal for refrigerated stuff, so he moved the refrigerator stuff into the freezer. We still lost about 60 bucks’ worth of food, which really sucks. In the end, this may be a good thing, though, because we get what we want and won’t have to deal with that clunky refrigerator door that I’m sure he’s now glad he never bothered to fix. The only good in it is the dispenser.

This will make half of the major appliances replaced. As I told him, if the washer breaks, we’ll get a portable one we can set up in the tub in the second bath. If the dryer breaks, we’ll hang stuff in here. If the dishwasher breaks, I’ll just do dishes by hand. The only thing we’ll have to replace is the stove.

I wish I could switch to all processed foods and just use the microwave because of my lack of energy, but that would make me feel even shittier and drive my blood pressure through the roof. I actually like to cook these days, and I need some real food. Some real home-cooked meals.