Wow! It has now been exactly a quarter of a century since I left New England! I was a 90-pound, 26-year-old girl with great vision and that couldn’t gain weight. Can’t gain it easily now either, but I sure as hell can’t lose what I gained before going on thyroid medication either, LOL. There were two words I had yet to learn the true meaning of… insecurity and anxiety. I’ll take the insecurity that came with the poverty we went through any day over this anxiety that can sometimes border on sheer terror. Nonetheless, I learned about insecurity in 2008, and then I learned about anxiety in 2014, and you know what folks? It’s awfully hard to unlearn things at times.

So sit back, grab a cup of hot chocolate or tea, and enjoy another one of my bittersweet midnight rambles.

Okay, so I took a couple of ibuprofen for my jaw arthritis, snuggled up in bed for a while, and now I feel a little calmer. I thought about it and realized that if I stopped my meds for six months that would tell me if my anxiety was due to the meds since I can’t even go that long without having anxiety. But that still might not tell me if it were literally the meds themselves. More than likely it’s a combination of things… the perimenopause, the medication fueling it, etc.

It wouldn’t be good for me to quit for half a year either way, and I won’t. I’d probably gain a shitload of weight. I may not be able to lose either, but I stopped gaining years ago, leaving me around 30 pounds overweight. The only difference is that I’m a few inches smaller than I was just over a year ago because of the Bowflex. People think I’m between 120-130 pounds. Wrong!

So anyway, I didn’t feel great after talking to Tammy but I definitely felt better, and I’m sure celebrating our anniversary this weekend will make me feel even better. It’s on the 15th actually, but we’re going to go out to eat, plus we did a little shopping on Amazon. Then he turns 60 on the 28th. That’s a bit of a sad and scary thought even though he’s in great health and he reminds me that a number is just a number. Yeah, but his wife is 8.5 years younger, in better shape, and is supposed to live longer than men.

I was telling Tammy that while we have no regrets about not having kids, I worry for us when we get old since I can’t imagine who we would have to take care of us, and the last thing I would want would be for us to end up in some state-run nursing home facility where we would likely be abused.

“I’ve got more to worry about than you do,” she said, and I started to think, oh no, please don’t play the problem-comparing game. But then she said something that had me wondering. I really thought she was joking, but based on her tone I can’t be sure. She said something about the girls swearing they won’t be there for her when she’s old.

“Of course they’re joking and of course they’ll be there for you,” I said to her.

I expected her to come out at that point and say, “Yeah, I know.” But instead, she said something about them liking to take her places and leaving her there, whatever the hell that meant, and I wasn’t sure I should push her for details either, so I let it go at that.

Those girls have always had a mean streak in them. No doubt about that. Burn them or at least make them think you did and you’re probably fucked a lot more than you would be fucked if you burned me. Yet despite any signs of aggressiveness and vengefulness, I can’t imagine them abandoning their mom. Maybe they really would, though. There are lots of things we can’t imagine until they happen. I do remember Sarah joking about being the one who decides what nursing home she goes to someday, but is there something more going on than I realize?

Come to think of it, the girls have posted tons of “I love my dad,” “I miss my dad,” “I love my sister” memes, but never once have I ever seen anything in regard to their mom.

Although there are a few stray spots, my period is finally ending. It wasn’t a heavy one but it sure was a long one. I’m less anxious today too, but it is picking up now. It seems to do this 4-5 hours into my day.

I didn’t know this but it turns out that they make this stuff that dissolves hair dye. I guess it restores it back to its natural color, which means I would have brunette sprinkled with gray. That would be great because then I wouldn’t have to wait for the shit to grow/fade out.

They also make temporary dye, so I see, if you want to play around with some colors short-term and be a little wild for a few days.

For our anniversary Tom’s getting me two new sets of decorative curtains. One’s a scene of a gothic woman on a wooden raft in a swampy forest at night. The scene is mostly dark save for the glowing lantern she holds. The other scene is of three horses, each a different color, in a field. There are red poppies in front of them. Behind them, you see mountains in the distance.

We talked about getting me a tablet to use to listen to music on that I would hook to the stereo. Instead, I’m going to be using my phone and he’s going to write a program for a music player that has features I like.

Later…

My anxiety was the worst yesterday. The two days before it the lorazepam at least helped a little and took the edge off of it, then I would feel even better when he got up. Not yesterday, though. Yesterday I felt progressively worse throughout my day. It came to a head about a half-hour before he left for work and went on for a few hours. Again I wonder… if I hadn’t had the EMDR, would I have panicked? I sure was damn close! It was a little scary. I was going from hot to cold, my heart was pounding, my number twos were on a roll, and I was afraid to move a muscle for fear of making my heart pump even faster. Where some people find it best to keep busy when they’re anxious, I find that I not only have trouble focusing, but that can actually make it worse for me. If your heart is racing and you do something that can speed it up, you’re just adding to the problem. Even just sitting up in a chair can take more energy than when you’re lying down, so in my case, it’s best that I just lie still, take deep breaths, and wait till the storm passes. I do get up and do some things, but I do it in spurts. Exercise is said to help some people, but I think last night’s run may’ve made things worse.

Tom thinks some of this is me being anxious about going to the lab and what my numbers may be, and not just the perimenopause. We agreed I would skip my thyroid meds today because even if they’re not the cause (God, I hope my TSH hasn’t slipped too low or that I’m pocket-flaring), they could at least be fueling the problem since the medication is a stimulant. Well, I’m stimulated enough, thank you, so I may skip a few doses just like I did the last time I was this anxious. Skipping a few doses every now and then can’t hurt me. It’s going a few months that could put me at risk. As I assured Tammy, who I called yesterday, I’m not going to make any drastic changes with my meds and I’m not going to quit them either.

She suggested the disease itself could make me anxious, but I think it’s unlikely because it’s treated. If that were the case I would think I would’ve felt this way pretty consistently before treatment when my TSH was up in the 30s. The problem is that there are numerous things that cause the same symptoms. I’m anxious and I’m bordering on having the runs, which points to both perimenopause and accumulation of my medication, but I’m not losing weight uncontrollably or trembling, which are also signs of being overmedicated. No lung tightness either, one of the first warning signs.

The usual hacks haven’t been helping. Not the EFT, the acupressure, etc. Sometimes I feel like something up there wants me to suffer. Like it’s really fucking funny or something. But hey, with all the innocent children out there who get abused or die of cancer, why should it care about little old me and my anxiety?

And if I could ever learn to count and my math wasn’t as shitty as my language learning ability is good, I would know that it’s been closer to 3 years and not 4. I just got the number 4 stuck in my head because next month we will have lived here for 4 years. I’ve been suffering on and off for the last 3 years (which feels like a decade), but I think it started more with them adjusting me to the medication than the perimenopause. It’s hard to gauge exactly when the perimenopause started. I think I was 48, almost 49 years old. The thought of possibly having many years to go where I’m tortured every few months makes me want to slam my fucking head in the wall so damn hard. The thing is that I can never know how much of this is related to my medication until I actually hit menopause. Then there’s my worst fear, which I try not to think about. Yeah, the ultimate fear… what if I’m destined to be this way for the rest of my life no matter what? I don’t even want to go there, but sometimes my mind wanders in that direction and goes “what-iffing.”

But this shit really does have to end someday, right? Nothing lasts forever, right?

I have more to write about, but like I said, it’s best for me to do things in spurts.

As you know, I’ve tried a handful of different prescription medications for anxiety and high cholesterol over the last few years, most of which have caused problems. Nothing wrong with taking ibuprofen if you’ve got a headache, a toothache or period cramps, and I can certainly see taking something to prevent a life-threatening emergency. But I’m finding that most medications seem to simply be a matter of trading in one problem for another. I took statins to prevent a stroke or heart attack that may never happen just to have the sore throat from hell. I tried to curb anxiety with Prozac just to end up with suicidal thoughts. Then I tried Clonidine for that just to get knocked out, sleep shitty, and feel like I was in a fog the next day. Birth control wasn’t an option as far as hormonal therapy because of my high cholesterol, but what if it had been? How long would I have lasted on that before problems caused me to stop that, too?

Other than my thyroid meds and lorazepam when the anxiety bites, I am so done with medication unless it’s a matter of life or death! I’m not kidding when I say I’d rather not live as long and feel better than live longer just to suffer any more than the perimenopause naturally causes me to suffer.

Obviously, it was meant to be and something up there wants me to suffer. Just like with other things in life, the more I try to fight fate, the worse it is for me. Sometimes it really is best that I just grin and bear it and take my “punishment.” I don’t know if I’ll be rewarded for my suffering in the afterlife, or if I’ll be made to suffer even worse and wish I could return to this kind of suffering, but I can’t concern myself with an afterlife that may not exist and that I can’t control even if it does.

I feel like a colossal failure. I mean look at me. I can’t even go more than 4-6 months without anxiety. I briefly considered running to Stacey about it, but that would be one more appointment and more money spent on something that’s physiological and that she can’t help me with. I’m near tears of frustration right now because I’ve been on this trend for three years now with no end in sight. I’m having the longest period ever, or so it seems. I’ve been bleeding since around 6 PM on the 31st, and if it doesn’t stop today or tomorrow I’m going to be worried. Assuming it does stop, I would bet almost anything that I’ll definitely have another period in August.

Even though I’m not so sure it’s a good idea to skip my meds this close to the lab, I’m definitely skipping tomorrow just in case it’s not causing my problem but maybe fueling it. If I have a physiological condition that can make me anxious, maybe taking stimulants isn’t a bright idea. That’s why I go easy on the caffeine.

So to quickly sum up the last couple of days… I didn’t sleep all that great the time before last, but I had more energy and I did more things. I became anxious a few hours after I got up and got rid of it a few hours later with lorazepam.

Last time around I fell asleep earlier and slept longer and better, save for the nightmare I had about a dog attacking a rat. The bottom half of the rat was basically crushed and it was bleeding everywhere. I picked the poor thing up by its tail. It let out a little squeak and blood dripped from its mouth. It was totally gross. I knew it wouldn’t live but I knew it would be tough for me to kill it to end its misery, too. It didn’t look like any of my rats. This one looked like a hooded or capped rat.

I awoke a little anxious, then I did my ET, acupuncture, ate and felt a little better. But these hacks only get me so far. 4-5 hours after I got up I took another lorazepam. Might as well use it while I have it when I need it. That’s what it’s here for. This stuff does quit working for the most part just like the shrink said, but it’s still better than nothing.

Still don’t know if I’m going to cancel the shrink appointment, but I have until November to decide. We did cancel Dr. A online and then they tried to call to reschedule. It will be rescheduled for next week after the lab and after she has my numbers. Again, A isn’t my probation officer and I’m not a child. I do what I want and their employees that work for me, as far as I’m concerned. They can quit working for me, but they can never make me do anything I don’t want to do.

Deleted my Facebook page because it lost its excitement rather quickly. There were only a couple of people into it, but even if there’d been a lot more, I’m more into collecting or pinning pictures than sharing them. I’m better at sharing words than images, though I do share some.

I also had a dream that we were renting our Maricopa house for a while, and this time it looked like it really did. I had the same mixed emotions about staying there as I always do in these dreams but knew we couldn’t stay. OMG, I can just imagine how much the Mexican drug cartel has fucked up that town by now!

If there was ever any doubt that dyeing the hair makes it thinner, it’s gone now. I noticed I lost a lot in the shower, plus it feels thinner in front. If only I could convince myself to cut it off and stop dyeing it. Then again, it would be easier to dye if it was shorter; it would just be thinner. Brown-black is a wee bit too dark for me, but it should fade in a week or two. Maybe I’ll wait until I have 2-3” of regrowth, take my hair no higher than my shoulders (man cuts on women aren’t for me) and cut my bangs back. Long hair may look nice, but it really is a pain in the ass and I’m tired of all the shedded hairs around here that you normally don’t notice when they’re short. They love to get stuck in our robotic vacuum’s brush.

Nonetheless, my hair is in horrible condition and definitely needs to go. Will I look older and uglier with gray hair? Yes. Will my face look fatter with bangs? Yes. But comfort and ease are more important to me these days than appearance.

So, SO nice to be feeling better, even if I know it’s temporary. Yeah, yesterday was a rough day. PMS/periods during the perimenopause phase are a million times rougher than when you’re pre-perimenopausal. Insomnia and anxiety have been my best friends these last few days. I’m having an awful lot of days where I’m up longer and sleeping less, wishing for some of my old problems back that now don’t seem nearly as bad as they once did. I couldn’t even make it to the lab. There was no way I could get up after just three hours of sleep. My body just can’t do that anymore. Will go to the lab on Saturday instead, even if that means waiting an hour with lots of screaming brats.

My period is still going on, and just like I finally smartened up where women are concerned, I’ve smartened up where periods are concerned. I’m going to get a period every 2-3 months, probably for another 1-2 years, which means I’m going to feel like shit every few months, too. So yeah, my favorite month hasn’t exactly been off to a great start. Like I said, though, I am feeling a bit better. I really thought I would feel anxious throughout the night and tired, but I can’t say how I’ll feel later on. For now, I’ve taken advantage of my temporary energy to do some Spanish lessons and Bowflex exercises.

I had a dream that I met with my cousins Lori and Lisa somewhere. Lisa came up to greet me, stark naked, large body covered with tattoos. I knew she was making a statement… this is how I am and you better fucking accept it.

“Nice tats,” I told her, and it was true. They looked good whereas in real life I can tolerate a small tattoo here and there, but never cared for bodies that are plastered with them. Anyway, satisfied that she got her point across and received the approval she felt she needed, the dream ended with her slipping into a long coat-like dress.

If I’m counting right I’ve had 8 periods since May 2016. It’s normal to have 13 periods in a year. I still don’t see an end to this shit soon.

I was up for about 20 hours and slept for about 7, yet was horribly tired when I got up. Determined to live my life anyway, I got up and dyed my hair brown-black. It looks so much better, but it sure is fried.

I went from slightly wound up to depressed and even cried a little because I have such conflicted and mixed emotions about so many things. I have so many fears and worries. In many ways, my life is so much better and so much worse at the same time. I miss some aspects of my old life, be it back in the trailer, Oregon or Phoenix, but then there are some things about those times I certainly don’t miss at all. Some things were just easier when I was a kid or a young adult. When I would lie awake all night I may have known I was going to be tired when I had to get up for school, work or whatever, but I didn’t worry, like I would now, about how I would manage to get through the day and function on the lack of sleep.

I wish we had family close by, but am also glad we don’t. I feel like we need friends, but am afraid to trust just anyone. I know we could have run to Bob and Virginia for showers if we’d needed to when the hot water tank crapped out, but they’re not like Tammy and Mark either, or even like Mary and his mom once were to us.

And I know the Twenties would probably give us a ride if the car broke down, but they’re not like what Andy and Jessie once were to us. No idea what’s up with Jessie, BTW. I simply quit hearing from her.

I wish I could accept more things without questioning them, like why I am so fucking cold all of a sudden when it’s 77° in here. I miss the days when I lived more in the present and didn’t have the types of concerns and fears I have now. So yeah… life gets better but it also gets shittier. The asthma attacks I had for years might have sucked shit big time but they were very straightforward. The problem was in my lungs. Period. But this shit is affecting me both mind and body, in so many different ways, and with no end in sight.

I fear dying alone. I fear HIM dying alone. Okay I know it sounds silly as hell, and like Tom would say, we can’t change whatever’s going to happen anyway. But if there is an afterlife, sometimes I worry that if I have too much fun and happiness while I’m still alive that might mean I’m going to be compensated with more misery in the afterlife. Or maybe the afterlife will be so miserable no matter what just to show me that my worst of times here are a joke compared to what could happen there. I worry about the stupidest things, but then… are they really stupid? They could be very real fears for all I know. That’s what makes it so hard; the not knowing.

Got an appointment tomorrow at a lab we’ve never been to before at 4 PM. Since I don’t expect to be able to fall asleep before 9 AM, and am setting my alarm for 3:30, I’m sure I’ll be totally exhausted.

With my insomnia and sleep issues so much worse, Tom suggested I not take anything at all to sleep for the next two weeks as he believes that could be part of my problem. Yeah, that’s what the neurologist said. Having 2 caffeinated cups of coffee yesterday and a Sugar Babies K-cup close to bedtime probably wasn’t a good idea either.

I’ve been borderline anxious every day this month so far. See? It’s always at the beginning of the month, and getting a period definitely seems to trigger it.

After eating several things and then venting to Tom, I began to perk up. I’m sure I’ll still have a whole shitload of trouble falling asleep when I want to, and staying asleep when I finally do, as is usually the case these days.

Last night I had a dream I was in a private hospital room. It was nighttime and dark. Every now and then a nurse would enter the room and raise the bed to chest level. What they were checking or doing, I don’t know, but I awoke right before one of the next rounds and somehow reached the lever to raise the bed so the nurse wouldn’t have to bother with it. I was lying on my side the whole time and I never moved, but I could crank my head a bit and see on some machine that my pulse was only 45. It never goes that low in real life. His does, but mine never even goes under the 60s.

Anyway, when one of the nurses came into the room one time, she said something about how it was going to be a very warm day.

So once again the savage beasts have attacked London. And once again if we say anything against these monsters responsible for one attack after another, we’re “racists.” I dread the day they start bombing, knifing and plowing into cities here in the US regularly. But people are too afraid to pull their heads out of the sands of “political correctness.” Yeah, we can only say what the general population wants to hear about people. If you don’t have anything positive to say about them, no one wants to hear it. Wondering when the day will come when saying anything negative about rapists becomes a “hateful sin.”

Finished my 15-page story, Kinky Kathleen, which came to 5262 words. Now I’m sharing my older stories in my story account, which has once again changed names. The name I randomly drew was Maddy.

Last night I went for a quick bike ride that couldn’t have lasted more than seven or eight minutes. When I returned my heart was booming like a motherfucker and took forever to slow down. Instead of the ride perking me up and giving me energy, I crept a little too close to the border of being anxious.

Then I decided to give the clonidine a third and final chance. At first I wasn’t tired, just calmer. But then an hour and a half later, four hours before I was ready for bed, it knocked me out. And just like the other two times, I slept horribly. It seems I woke up every half hour. I finally got up at 6:30 AM, whined to Tom about it, then took a lorazepam. Before this, we checked my vitals, as we have been doing, and all was normal. Tom thinks I’m mostly anxious because I’ve got labs on Monday, and combination peri/period. So far it’s been mildly annoying and I hope it stays that way. Meaning if it’s not going to go away anytime soon, I hope it will at least not get any worse. I still don’t want the next time I communicate with Stacey to be face-to-face in her office.

I was horribly tired when I finally got up after noon but did manage to perk up a little bit. It just took 2 cups of coffee and forever to do it.

From now on I’m only taking my thyroid meds and lorazepam as needed. I’ve fucking had it with the medication game! I mean, yeah, it took the edge off my anxiety. But what good is it if it’s going to make me sleep shitty and leave me drowsy as fuck the next day?

Tom’s work schedule is really busy this next month so we’re going to bump Dr. A’s appointment up for next month. I really don’t need to see her for anything right now, anyway.

This period has been light so far, but like I said before, I’m trying to accept the fact that I’m never going to have the energy I once had, nor am I ever going to sleep as well as I once did. I’m just not getting any younger. Also, I could very well have another dozen or so periods to go before they finally stop. Might as well accept that, too.

Managed to go for a short walk, and was pleased to find that they dropped the price on the house with the really loud car from 130K to 125K. But with 3 for sale and 1 pending on this circle alone, there’s an excellent chance of one of the newcomers having a motorcycle. :(

I dreamt that Tom wanted to get another cat, and I tried to explain to him that another cat would only give me the same congestion and wheezing the last cat gave me.

Today I’m just the opposite of yesterday. Where yesterday I was exhausted with the double whammy of perimenopause and PMS, today I have lots of energy and motivation. Of course I still worry about the anxiety returning, especially when I feel a bit on edge like I did last night. While the EMDR has made some things easier (certain things seem less scary and you become desensitized in a sense so you don’t get as emotional), a medical scare can make some things harder. The slightest “off” feeling and I get worried something could be wrong. In the past, I would simply notice it, but now it causes me to worry. Oh well. Something I gotta work on, I guess.

Tammy let me know she was alive and thinking of me on Facebook, and then I noticed I could no longer schedule groups of four pictures to my page. Now I can only schedule single pics. I can still do it in a way that doesn’t cause me to have to see any more of the newsfeed than I already do, thus continuing to be annoyed by all the repetition out there.

Last night I dream Tammy and I were staying in a hotel somewhere. We went down to the hotel’s restaurant and they kept messing up my order. I had to send the damn thing back twice. Tammy went to use the restroom when a now snotty waitress handed me my plate a third time, which contained barely half of what I ordered.

I got up to find where the waitress had run off to and found her sitting at a table with her hands covering her face in an attempt to hide from me. “I know it’s you,” I told her, but she ignored me.

I would never do this in real life, but finally fed up, I threw the plate across the restaurant like a Frisbee. I then ran toward the restroom where Tammy had emerged from and told her to hurry up and follow me to the room because we had to go, promising to explain what happened in the car. So my disabled sister managed to keep up with me at about 6 MPH back to the room. Just when I thought she was packing things in the bathroom, she starts taking a shower. I was irritated because I wanted to leave before they got a chance to kick us out, LOL.

I guess I was young and single in another dream because I was involved in some dating service or something like that. I went to meet a woman at her apartment and I found her to be an immediate turn-off. Not just because she was a smoker but also because she had a cigarette in both hands. Yeah, a definite turn-off.

Becky’s about to turn 30. 30 years old and still living with her sister after what’s been at least half a decade. Their happiness is all that matters, but I still can’t help but wonder if she or Sarah are ever going to meet anyone and move in with them.

Heard that car return after 5 PM from work, so I’m sure it’s going to take off again any minute unless it slipped out while I was under the headphones.

It’s June! My favorite month. This month is our anniversary, his birthday, and the start of summer. June has always been my favorite month.

The clonidine has proven to be pretty worthless so far. I don’t think it helps me fall asleep faster. I don’t sleep as sound when I take it and I’m a little groggy the next day. If I get anxious again, it might be good for that, but I would rather not find out.

I had spotting last night after 2.5 months, so that sucks. I’m probably in for a full-blown period within a day or two.

I’m not working out as much these days. I’m just too tired too much of the time. I know I risk falling out of shape and gaining weight, but I just don’t have the energy anymore. I sleep too shitty too often.

Debating whether or not I want to finish combing through old journals and sharing the highlights. It’s just SOOO much work.

Having fun with my page, even though I don’t expect to ever have more than a few members. I’ve got posts queued up all the way through the middle of the month. I don’t have to do anything but sensor anything that comes in.

After Aly dumped me for being honest enough to warn her about Kim (among other things I was “too blunt” about), I was so hurt and angry that I hoped that Kim would turn around and dump her and give her a taste of her own medicine. Now that this has actually happened, I’m not sure how I feel. I will never understand why some people care about those that don’t care about them while they don’t give a damn about those that do care. What is it about some people that draws them to abusive lovers and toxic friends??? Especially when they should be smart enough to know better. I think they’ll patch things up soon enough, though, because they need each other to feed off of. Kim needs Aly to help her with the things she’s not smart enough to do on her own, and Aly needs Kim because she thrives on toxicity.

I only remember a few seconds from one dream last night. I don’t know whose baby it was, but I took some baby to the ER that was sick or something. The doctors and nurses examined it as I watched on fearfully. Only the baby wasn’t fat and chubby like a real baby. Instead, it looked like a miniature adult that couldn’t have been more than a foot long, if even that.

Later…

This constant fatigue is so hard to live with at times that this is what I mean when I say I have mixed emotions about not being able to work a regular job. As if my fucked up schedule isn’t bad enough. Having just 2-3 days a week that I feel awake enough to do things really limits my activities and I’m finding it more and more frustrating. But I’m not going to get any younger, so I better get used to it, accept it for what it is, and plan on not having much energy most days. I’m tired. Period. And I’m never going to sleep as well as I did when I was younger or have the energy I used to have. I also need to accept the fact that I may still have many more periods to go.

Still hear that car at least four times a day because even though they do appear to be working, they come and go in the evening as well. I don’t understand what can’t be picked up or done on the way home from work. I would think most people wouldn’t want to go out a second time after being out for 11 hours. Their fucking house is never going to sell either, but I wonder if they’re deliberately stalling to piss the park off. If they got kicked out, that might be the case.

Anyway, I miss the days when my sleep was usually shorted only because I had an appointment. After I got out of the apartments where neighbors were waking me up, I had a lot more energy in Arizona, and even Oregon, compared to now. My health has gone totally to shit since moving into this house. I sure feel like it has at times.

I’m nearly in tears right now because all I want is just to sleep normally and be awake most days of the week. I miss that so much. But it’s been harder to cry since being EMDR’d. I’m tired, I’m worried, and it’s got me really bummed out. Tom thinks it’s the double whammy of having peri and PMS, and I hope he’s right. I hope nothing else is wrong with me. Every possibility went through my mind last night… adrenal gland suppression, the clonidine, something else. Still worry the anxiety’s going to return, too.

It used to be that if I woke up a little tired I tended to perk up within a few hours, but not anymore. I’m WAY more impacted by lack of sleep/shitty sleep than I used to be. I feel like an old lady too often as far as my sleep and energy go. It is so, so very frustrating to have to spend so much time in bed and know there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.

Decided to temporarily stop posting to my Facebook group because I’ve discovered that pages are so much more fun. The biggest thing is that it lets me schedule future posts. The more I schedule, the more it’s like having a self-publishing page that publishes itself with little work on my part. It’s so cool. And addicting. I can now totally see how Andy got so hooked on doing this sort of thing. Every three hours pictures will post in groups of four. Each cluster will have a theme… beaches, rats, kids, dogs, trees, wildlife, etc. The link to it is on my profile.

Lost the water I was retaining after my stupid body made its third attempt to generate a period and failed. I’m glad it failed; I just wish it would stop trying in the first place. Come on, I’m 51 years old!

Got caught up on my sleep and should be able to go out for a walk later on. That’s pretty much it for now so… later!

Sunday my hips were sore as hell, Monday my legs turned to rubber after just a few minutes of bike riding, and today I’m damn near comatose. WTF? Yes, I slept shitty. Yes, I woke up many times, sometimes too warm. But it’s not like I didn’t sleep at all, so this fatigue seems a bit extreme. I didn’t take anything last night, so I doubt it could be related to my blood pressure or blood sugar. I sure hope not, anyway.

Like I’ve been saying for a while now, I wish I could have more days where I had good energy and nothing hurt or made me feel off in any way. The most important thing is not having anxiety. I’m still doing well with that, but still not quick to jump the gun and assume it’s gone for good. It seems I always have something, though. Lately, it’s been an underarm rash and I worry it’s folliculitis. It could be some type of fungal rash, so I started Lamisil a couple of days ago, and I’m not sure that it’s helping. Or maybe I’m allergic to the Gain laundry detergent pods we’ve been using. I just don’t know. But when I see my doctor in a couple of weeks I’ll show it to her.

I’ve been getting some questions about the anxiety I experienced when my thyroid medication dose was higher. It’s not the same kind of anxiety one would experience if say they were about to have a medical procedure done that they were really nervous and anxious about. It’s something far worse and probably impossible to imagine and comprehend without going through it firsthand. I always said that being thrown in a pit of fire would be the worst way to die, but I’m not so sure about that anymore. I think the worst, torturous form of death would be to slowly die from having too much thyroid hormone. That fire would hurt like hell, but you’re dead in minutes. A slow death from being thyrotoxic would be the ultimate form of torture that I couldn’t wish on my worst enemy. It’s the most horrible, horrible feeling on earth to be high on thyroid. That’s really the best way I can describe it for those who haven’t experienced it and I hope to hell never will.

Life is otherwise running smoothly. One of the houses on our street has sold and now I’m hoping the newcomers don’t have a motorcycle or any really loud vehicles.

I was off to a good start on the intermittent fasting diet, but hunger and cravings threw me off track. There’s no getting around the fact that I would have to cut down to about 1000-1200 calories a day to lose weight and that’s just not enough. As long as I keep active (when I’m awake enough) I can maintain my weight on 1500-1600 calories a day.

For once I had a bit of a funny dream. Being the adventurers that we are, on two different occasions Tom and I simply up and changed states with no home or job waiting for us in the new state. Sometimes that’s the only way to go. It got a little scary at times, but this was how we transferred from Arizona to Oregon, and then from Oregon to California.

In the dream, we moved to Boston of all places. No place I would even consider going to in a million years, but that’s where we went in the dream. Towards the end of the day, after we arrived there, I was getting tired and said I hoped we could find a place to rent or check into a hotel soon.

Then we were in someplace that had a small door in the wall that was perhaps 3’x3’. Tom opened the door and found a strange passageway. Curiously, Tom began to climb in and I told him to be careful because there was a sharp turn in it and I didn’t want him getting stuck.

I then started to think how it was a bummer that we didn’t know anybody in the area yet, and then I remembered Eileen. For a second I considered contacting Andy, now just hours away, but thought better of it when I realized that being in the same state wouldn’t make him any less negative, immature or judgmental.

Yesterday I noticed the lack of tweets between Aly and Kim. Then last night Aly tweeted about being “iced out,” and like several other tweets she’s made in the past, I knew she was talking about Kim. Ever since Aly dumped me I’ve been hoping that Kim would give her a taste of her own medicine, and now I wonder if she really has. I doubt it, though. She’s gone quiet on her before. All will be just peachy between them soon enough.

I tweeted to her that I knew what it was like and that I was sending a virtual hug from Cali. As usual, she didn’t block me but she didn’t reply either.

Why oh why can’t I just give up on those who have given up on me???

The weather is gorgeous right now. But can I take my laptop out on the patio and enjoy it? No, of course not. Fucking landscaping has to spoil the peace, as usual.

Took my first dose of clonidine last night and while I didn’t have any bad effects from it, I’m not sure it’s going to be all that helpful. I’m allowed to take up to three tablets a day. Being the first time taking it, I took just one, of course. I was nervous as hell about it, too.

I thought I would get noticeably drowsy after about 10 minutes like I usually do with things like Benadryl and Lorazepam, but I didn’t. I also didn’t sleep as soundly as when I take other things and I kept waking up several times. I woke up a little tired, but not so groggy that I didn’t want to get out of bed. I found that the best thing to help perk me up is salad. I have a bag of mixed lettuce, and after a few mouthfuls of that and some coffee, I perked up.

I got up earlier today because yesterday was such a fun and busy day that I fell asleep earlier than the night before, something I rarely do.

Before we left, Tom ran out to pick up the meds. Everything was there.

Then I gave him my old music laptop, which he was delighted to have for whatever projects he wants it for.

I was surprised to see that Aly is now allowing anyone to message her on Twitter, and I can’t help but wonder… is she hoping I’ll contact her?

We wanted to go out browsing and shopping just for fun, but we also wanted not to have to listen to the thump of bass from the damn concert. Remember, some of us move to these types of places to get away from that shit. Not to have to listen to it. But by the time we returned four hours later at the tail end of the concert, you could barely hear it, unlike the last time. It was still good to get out and do things we don’t normally do to break up our normal routine. No matter how comfortable you may be with your routine, variety is always good.

We went to Lowe’s first, but didn’t get anything there. Then we went to Wendy’s where we both got junior bacon burgers with small fries and a small drink. With both of us watching what we eat, we were really stuffed afterward, not used to taking in 600 calories at once. There’s a reason I eat as much as I can a few days before vacations; to enlarge my stomach so I can enjoy indulging during the trip.

We parked towards the back of the parking lots furthest from the stores we visited so it would be easier to get out and because we like to walk. It was a beautiful day. Warm and dry. I even got a little color.

We first stopped in a department store we’d never been to before. It wasn’t all that great. Then we went to a thrift store we’d also never been to and that was more my style. For just seven bucks I got silver sequined UGG style boots.

Then we went to the Dollar Tree where I got these cute little plastic flowers in a tiny pot. When light hits the solar panel on it, the flowers “dance.”

We also got a few scented hand sanitizers, and these scented room deodorizers that are in plastic jars, but we really don’t notice them unless we stick our noses right up to them.

We went to Michael’s craft store where I got 5 neon-colored beaded bracelets for $.99 each.

Our last stop was at Sam’s where we got dishwasher and laundry pods, and a power scrubber for the old shower stalls.

For just $10, I got a pink tunic with sparkly gems on it.

The four 2x2 printed foam mats arrived yesterday and we love them so far. We have one in the second bathroom and three in the kitchen to see how well they hold up before we redo both sections of the floor. They’re very comfortable to walk on and they look great. The roof is still the #1 priority and that will get done in July or August.

So yesterday was lots of fun. It definitely made up for the horrible, horrible nightmare in which I required lorazepam to get back to sleep. In the dream, I was living with Tammy, although she had a multistory house in the dream. In reality, Tom will be 60 in exactly one month, but in the dream, he died from a sudden and unexpected illness right before he was to turn 57. The depression I experienced in the dream was overwhelming. Tammy had to leave one morning, assuring me that everything would be okay and that she would be back at 11 PM or sooner. I didn’t want her to go, but I also didn’t want to cry on her shoulder all day either.

I spent the day reading and writing and trying to block Tom from my mind so as to keep from cracking up. Unable to work yet not having worked enough years to collect disability, I had no idea how I was going to survive since our savings and sale of the house would only last a year or two. Even if I had all the money in the world, I didn’t see how I could stand to wake up each day without him for the next 25-35 years. It’s so true that once you find your true soulmate you don’t want to live without them, and no wonder so many long-term couples die around the same time.

But then nighttime came and I couldn’t help but think of how we’d always assumed he would turn 57 and then 58 and so on and so forth. I looked to the doorway of the bedroom, which I stood in, wishing he would appear and say it was just a horrible joke and that we could now go home. I woke up as I burst into tears. Like I said, it was a horrible, horrible dream.

Taking it easier today doing things around the house. I doubt we’ll go out today, but who knows?

I’m trying to get used to progressive glasses once again because I really like having a pair of glasses that does it all. It was a pain in the ass switching back and forth between reading glasses and bifocals with no mid-range vision.

My right hip is better (for the most part), but today my left hip is sore when I first stand up. I’ve had pain nearly every day for a while now, but it sure beats anxiety.

So I saw the psychiatrist, Dr. C, yesterday. This was at the Expo Center. The setup was a little different. The building didn’t consist of only doctors. There were lawyers and other things as well. Usually, the nurse takes me into the exam room, takes my vitals, then has me wait for the doctor. In this case, a nurse took me into a small room off the waiting room and took everything but my pulse. Then I went back to the waiting room where I had to fill out a ridiculous amount of paperwork asking me the same damn questions that should already be on file. I did most of it but not all of it. It was just too long and too irrelevant as to why I was there.

Then, just like Stacey would come and get me herself, the doctor came to get me. She didn’t really make an impression on me either in a positive or a negative way. She was just average, I guess you could say. She didn’t make any small talk unrelated to the visit by commenting on the weather, whatever I was wearing, etc., but she also didn’t come off as rude, insensitive or like she was trying to rush me along. The staff wasn’t all that friendly except for the nurse that took my vitals.

Dr. C was a lot like Stacey. She had a very calm and “neutral” demeanor. The kind you couldn’t picture freaking out and that probably had a dry sense of humor. While they may have been comparable in personalities, they looked nothing alike except for their thinness. I first thought Dr. C might be a guy because her hair is very short. She might be a lesbian, but as long as she helps me or at least doesn’t make me worse in any way, I don’t care what she is. But just being the observant person I am, she wore no make-up and was very plane-faced, almost ugly. While she looked as Chinese as ever she had an American accent.

I noticed her noticing my scars just as Dr. G (GYN) did. Yeah, a few more months and they’ll be gone and my past will no longer be so obvious. Either way, I’m doing this for me. This scar removal thing. I don’t care if others judge me by the past and I don’t care what they think either, but I personally don’t like seeing them sitting there on my arm, just like I wouldn’t want to see a picture of my parents sitting on my desk. I have a few pics of them on my hard drive and online, but I don’t need a reminder of them sitting in front of me any more than I need to see the scars. How would that help me?

What I liked about her was that she stayed in the present and let me bring her up to date on the last few years and what led me to see her without interrupting me. Dr. L may have been friendlier, but she was harder to talk to because she interrupted a lot and went off-topic. I almost felt like I was going to chat with an old buddy when I would see her, LOL.

She told me that the ADD might have been what made going through perimenopause so hard on me, and explained that ADD is common and that those who have it often do better in crisis. Haha, could’ve fooled me. I had to be EMDR’d, didn’t I? I get what she’s saying, though. As Stacey pointed out, the day I freaked out thinking I was having a heart attack, I acted quickly and was able to think fast despite how terrified I was, call for help, and get out of the house.

Dr. C also confirms that once I go from perimenopause to menopause, things should stabilize. They feel like they’ve been doing just that since February, but now my body is making its third attempt to generate a period since mid-March, and this time I’m afraid it might succeed. The last couple of times I would get watery, and then the water would back off. Now I’m getting watery and my boobs are tender.

She took a moment to read Doc O’s notes and commented about her being a very smart woman.

Then she asked questions like do I get headaches? Any rashes? I told her I did have a rash under my arms (these little red bumps that won’t go away), and she said what I figured she’d say. It probably needs an antifungal cream. I’m going to start with trying an OTC one. If it doesn’t help, I’ll show it to Doc A when I see her.

Just why am I getting all these fungal issues these last few years anyway? Because I’m fat? Older?

She also asked me if I’d ever been diagnosed with Graves’ disease. I’ve heard of it but didn’t know it was the term for hyperthyroidism like Hashimoto’s is the term for hypothyroidism. The neurologist I saw said it was likely that I did have Graves’ disease when I was younger, and even though they never tested me for it, I agree, based on the symptoms I had back then. I didn’t have such terrifying anxiety like the last few years, but I would get overly hyper, my heart would race, and I couldn’t gain weight if I tried.

Once it got to where I could no longer lose weight in my 40s, I wrote it off to age. But then I was like, hey wait a minute! I exercise. But even with treatment, diet and exercise do me no good and I’m forever 30 pounds overweight. Therefore I have set more realistic goals for myself, which is not to gain any more weight. So far so good. :-)

Then she asked me about joint and muscle pain and I told her that my hip joints have been particularly stiff lately and I’m losing flexibility. I first wrote that one off to being fat, but there are people a lot heavier than me who have more flexibility. She recommended some stretching exercises, which I’ll be doing for a few minutes each day.

She mentioned memory loss, and yes, I’m still dealing with the brain fog from hell. I have trouble focusing and will often think of something I need to get from another room, walk into that room, then forget why I entered it in the first place. Sometimes it takes me a minute to remember my own damn address and phone number.

So I told her that while I’m trying to remain optimistic, I don’t want to get my hopes up and think that the worst of the anxiety is over, and so I requested one more refill of lorazepam, which she gave me. If all continues to go well, though, I won’t finish the bottle I still have, let alone need the refill.

She asked me about beta-blockers and I told her I took atenolol once when my heart was racing when the perimenopause was at its worst and they were adjusting my levothyroxine dose, and while it slowed my HR, it also made me very cold and sluggish. I also told her about the nightmare I went through with Prozac.

I was surprised to learn that lorazepam isn’t a narcotic but a benzodiazepine. Still, she said it not only quits working after a while as the body gets too used to it, but it’s addicting and I shouldn’t tell anyone I’ve got it. This is because she’s had a couple of patients have their homes broken into just for that. They left the laptop and other valuables and took only the benzos.

She feels clonidine would be better for me in light of the ADD. She says it will also help with any additional anxiety I may have and help me sleep better (we discussed the insomnia and the CRD as well). She understands my phobia of medication and recommended I try the short-acting version before bed and see if it helps me sleep. Another reason she thinks this will be better for me is that it’s not a stimulant like levothyroxine or a controlled substance like lorazepam. I asked her if there was anything I should worry about if I decided to try it and she said it can make you tired, so take it before bed as needed for the next six months and see if it helps with sleep as well as better concentration and all that. As I told her, I don’t have insomnia all the time. Sometimes I’m up the standard 16 hours. But when it’s been 18 or more hours and Tom’s home (just because the EMDR has made me braver doesn’t mean I’m that brave), I will take a 0.1 mg tablet; the lowest dose possible, which they give to kids.

“If you like it and you want to take it every day, let me know when you see me again in six months and we’ll switch you to the long-acting version,” she told me.

I guess those are taken twice a day. Either way, I wonder if I should have just said no. The ADD and occasional insomnia haven’t killed me yet, I don’t need the clonidine to keep me alive, and this is just adding one more drug and yet more appointments. Nothing wrong with trying it at least once, though, and again, I’m my own boss. I can stop taking the medicine and cancel our November appointment anytime I want.

Later…

This is the first time after bombing that I’ve continued to find things in here… 2 silverfish and 3 spiders. Oh, they were on their way to the pearly gates, but still…

The weather was perfect for bombing yesterday because it was cool and windy. That way it wasn’t too warm in the storeroom for the rats, and the house didn’t get too warm when we were airing it out.

Since my one-year prescription is up, the pharmacist left a message with my doctor to refill it, but as far as I know, she hasn’t responded yet. It says it can take up to 72 hours and we did this just yesterday morning. She better hurry up, though. I only have four pills left. The last thing I want is for her to screw me out of a few doses right before labs, then not get an accurate reading. I will so let her have it if that’s the case!

I’m looking at the notes I scribbled down as I always do when I get up to help me remember my dreams. Well, I don’t know what “work at restaurant” or “guy opens door” or “banana chips” means, but I vaguely remember Steve, a neighbor I had back east. He entered a room I was in, wanting to be sure I was ready to give a speech that night.

“But what do I give a speech about?” I asked him, and he said it could be about whatever I wanted it to be about. Everyone was giving a random speech that night. So I thought about it for a moment and decided I would do a speech on PTSD.

Then Tammy appeared to be upset that I wasn’t wearing a particular shirt that I guess she hoped I’d wear for that event.

Speaking of Tammy, she’s failed every “test” I set up for her. She’s definitely ignoring almost all my emails and messages. But why? I wonder. If she can take the time to check into Facebook multiple times a day, couldn’t she leave a quick reply to at least some of the messages? Just wondering if she’s having doubts about being in my life. Or maybe she really is that out of it. I guess only she knows for sure.

The loud car has a new habit and I’m wondering if the driver got a job. They leave at 6:30 AM and they return around 5 PM. Yesterday I was hoping they wouldn’t want to go out again after a long day at work, but they did. They weren’t gone long, but they left after 9 PM and returned an hour later. So I’m still hearing it about four times a day.

Still hearing the woodpecker at times too, and I really don’t think there’s anything we can do about it. I’m just too noise-cursed. It’s like the more I try to fight it, the worse it is.

Tom’s enjoying it, but I just can’t get into the new Twin Peaks. Therefore, I’ve begun watching 13 Reasons Why on Netflix. It has to do with a high school student who committed suicide. She leaves behind some old fashion cassettes for a handful of people that are supposedly some of the reasons why she killed herself.

Jumping back to Twin Peaks and all its weirdness. When I think of the afterlife I sometimes wonder how similar it may be if there really is one. Maybe it’s just a bunch of mismatched shit that may not be real but that’s very real to our spirits. Maybe you could appear to be sitting on a serene beach for a few minutes. Then maybe the next minute you’re being devoured by a pack of wolves. Or maybe we get to live out the dreams and goals we never achieved in this life. And maybe we get to do things and go places we’ve always been curious about. Maybe we suddenly know it all and have all the answers to the things we’ve always wondered about.

Some people believe that if they’re cursed in this life, then that has to be a sign that the afterlife is better since they’re kept alive long enough to continue to suffer.

But what if it’s the other way around? What if the bad things that happen to some of us here are to later show us that the afterlife is so much worse?

I decided to make my group ‘closed’ just to see if it generates new members. Maybe they’ll be curious as to what they can’t see and feel compelled to join.

I’ve been configuring iTunes, as well as playlists on Amazon and YouTube, so I can listen to music on my Mac only without having to record and transfer songs. Tom can use my ancient Windows laptop we got in Oregon for other things. Doing it this way has its pros and cons. Some features are cool but then there are other things that aren’t as convenient. I can’t jump a few seconds over boring parts of songs, but I love how iTunes has an equalizer with each song that you can set to customize each song.

Enjoying the early morning peace and quiet before it’s lost to traffic and landscaping.

Decided to take a day off from going out running due to a little pain in my knee. I have enough other things to do anyway.

I also decided I would see Dr. C by myself tomorrow. With nothing out of the ordinary going on right now I don’t feel the need for Tom to go in as extra support, which he understands. It’s usually only when something new is going on or I’m extremely wound up that I like to take him along with me.

Hopefully, we can talk about the last few years and what got me to see her in the first place rather than what happened 20-30 years ago because I don’t feel the past is relevant to a case of hormonal nightmares brought on by perimenopause and adjusting my thyroid medication. She should have some history on file from Dr. L anyway.

If I could know that this was truly it and that the perimenopause was over along with the extreme anxiety that went with it, then I wouldn’t feel the need for any more lorazepam. But I can’t possibly know that and I’m afraid to get my hopes up and jump the gun. Fate has teased me enough with that in the past where I thought it was over just to find out a few months later that it wasn’t. Common sense, however, says that given the length of time I’ve suffered on and off, I should definitely be nearing the finish line if I haven’t crossed it yet. If I can stay calm until September, then I’ll feel more confident about the torture being over because that will make it over six months. It’s been just over four months since I saw Stacey. I don’t miss her as much as I thought I would, but she played an important role in this and I’ll definitely never forget her.

My only real concern right now is what my TSH score is going to be. If it’s up, then the anxiety I had a few months ago might have been more connected to that than my doctor realizes, which might mean I could suffer on and off for the rest of my life every time my TSH slipped down. I’m not really sure how that works and if it’s common to fluctuate a few points up-and-down regularly, or if it settles in on the same number so long as the thyroid doesn’t die anymore. The medication should prevent further death of the gland as well as enlargement. I really hope to hell I’m no more than one point up or down if I’m not the same because then I’ll feel more confident that it was the peri.

So much for thinking I had another hour before the peace was destroyed because that loud car just left. They haven’t lowered the price of the house yet either. It’s never going to sell at that price. I don’t understand why the realtor hasn’t talked some sense into them. It’s going to take a year or more to get these fuckers out of here.

Anyway, I’ll see Dr. C tomorrow while we bomb the place’s spiders, probably ask for one more bottle of lorazepam (the bottle I have has lasted since July 9 and I still have almost 20 left), then hit the labs in early June. Then I’ll see Dr. A a week later and hopefully, that will be it until my September dentist appointment, though I will contact the GYN at the end of my steroid treatment and see what she wants me to do next. I’m hoping a follow-up won’t be necessary. I’m definitely opting out of surgery, though. Quality, not quantity. That’s what I’m all about. I’ll take a good quality 30 more years before I take a not-so-good quality 40 more years.

If all goes well I should be cut down to just six appointments a year between Dr. A, ENT, eye doc, and dentist!

Had some dream about meeting Goldie H and Jim R in a restaurant somewhere.

“Preparing” a bathroom before leaving a crowded house to go on vacation, meeting some guy on the road, sharing a bed with some woman in a hotel while a guy and a gal I knew shared another… that’s all I remember for last night’s dreams.

Wow. Just wow. So now the Muslims are bombing concerts? How many more innocent people have to die before we finally pull our heads out of the sands of “political correctness,” accept that we’ve got a group of very sick twists on our hands, and deal with them appropriately? Not sure what would be appropriate, but there are more of us than there are of them. I’m sure something can be figured out, like maybe not letting them into our countries in the first place. I think they should be confined to one area and forbidden to enter other places. Then they can all have fun killing each other.

Went for a walk at the crack of dawn and crossed paths with Bob.

Then I was talking to Tom about pulling clothes out of the dryer and Alexa thought I was asking her for the weather in Dreyer, Texas.

Yesterday I gave my Blogger blog a whole new look and received the pink rose curtains. They’re not as nice as the green willows with the gold trim, but still okay.

Watched the first two episodes of the return of Twin Peaks, and so far I’m not impressed. It’s both slow and senseless.

In last night’s dreams, someone asked me what the meanest things were that my mother and her mother ever said to me.

“Someday you’ll be too fat to fit through the doorway,” I was happily informed by my grandmother as a child. Funny too, since I’ve never weighed more than 153 pounds at my heaviest and she was well over 200 pounds. As they say… people often are what they pick on you about.

“Try it again. Maybe next time you’ll succeed,” this was the wonderful advice my mother gave me when she came to my hospital room after I tried to commit suicide in my teens. rolls eyes Yeah, I had a great support system back then. And what did my father do about his wife’s words of wisdom? Not a thing.

The best part of waking up was knowing that this is so ancient history and can never happen again.

Another thing that puts a smile on my face is knowing that if I don’t like the new shrink I’m going to see hopefully just once or twice on Thursday, I can walk out of her office anytime I want and never return. Places like Brattleboro, Valleyhead and jail have a way of making you all the more grateful for freedom of choice. It’s just taken me some time to get used to actually utilizing it after so many years of having so many of my decisions made for me.

Learning more about acupuncture and the way it can help with various things. I know it can help with hunger but I’m not sure yet as far as weight loss and improving my eyesight. Can’t hurt to try it for a while and find out.

The temps have been in the 90s, which is great because then it doesn’t get chilly in the early mornings inside the house. It needs to stop getting below 70° at night in order for the pool to warm up. I wish they would just heat it normally. This isn’t an ideal climate for solar-heated pools.

I jumped on Amazon to start researching laminate flooring and accidentally stumbled across these interlocking foam mats with printed “wood” on top. We’re going to start with getting the smallest amount for $20 and put it in the shed and see how well it holds up out there. It would be a cheaper alternative to laminate flooring and looks very realistic. One person had a bad experience with it in the reviews, but the other pictures I saw look like real wooden floors. Since this is our practice house, so to speak, and since we’re going to be here several more years, this would be a good time to take the opportunity to see how well it holds up. It would be nice to know exactly what to get in the next place instead of wasting money. If we like this stuff, then it would only cost $100 to do the kitchen. I chose the white oak. I suspect they’d feel nice to walk on. The sticky tiles, for some reason, were cold to the touch as opposed to linoleum.

So we’re going to order that, plus a pink armband from my phone for when I’m out running, and a shoe stretcher. My flower shoes are still a little snug on me.

We went to Walmart this morning and I got a long colorful beaded necklace, a couple of packs of scented wax cubes, and a really cool small sequined pillow. If the sequins are all facing one direction where the gold side is showing, you can then rub your hand along it and it will flip them over to the silver side. Tom wrote “hi” on it in the store, LOL.

A couple of friends of a Facebook friend joined my group yesterday, but no one else has joined since.

Is it just me or do others find those “share to show you care” posts just as annoying as I do? Like we’re supposed to feel guilty if we don’t share because that supposedly means we don’t care? I just wonder why so many people feel the need to validate their friendships like that. If you feel you need to “test” them to see if they care, then maybe you should just delete them. :-)

I’m reading the book Secrets to Die For by L. J. Sellers, and it’s not only a great murder mystery, but it’s a reminder that what some people think is a matter of opinion is really a matter of simply being incorrect. It deals with hate crimes against lesbians.

The book discusses the common myths that go with the subject… thinking all lesbians hate men, that they were all raped or molested, that they choose to be that way, etc. It’s one thing to say that in my opinion pink is the best color, but I’d be full of shit to say that people don’t need oxygen to survive. Nobody wakes up one day and decides, “I’m going to be gay/bi/lesbian today, the most hated lifestyle on earth.”

And like the book said, what lifestyle? Gays, bisexuals and lesbians live the same lives anyone else lives; they just happen to be attracted to the same-sex, a biological variation on sexuality that plenty of scientific research supports. 1 out of 10 people are gay and that’s probably only those that will admit it. I think it’s more like 1 in every 8.

Also as the book said, is discriminating against gays really any different than discriminating against lefties simply because they’re different? And again, “different” isn’t always as different as some may think it is.

Alexa now has this chat bot thing where you engage her in a conversation, but it’s kind of boring so far.

The green willow curtains for the window by my desk arrived and they’re gorgeous. I love the gold glittery trim at the edges of the leaves. I hope the pink roses for the dining room come today.

I created a public Facebook group to share random pictures I found around the web, mostly of nature and animals, but so far no one’s joined, other than the few friends I’ve added. Andy has a couple of groups where he posts pics of sexy men, one of which has nearly 10,000 members. I never really saw the point of groups, but then I thought it might be fun to see how many members it might acquire, what they might have to share, etc. I doubt anyone will join because it’s not worth it to me to put all the effort that would go into promoting the group. I’m not that sociable online.

I’ve proven to myself that I can do this type of IF diet a lot easier than when I didn’t eat for the first 8 hours of my day. That was just way too long and damaging to my metabolism. But I’ve been having approximately 1500 calories a day, which is what it takes to maintain my current weight. The next step is to see if I can cut a third of my calories out, or at least close to it, to lose 20-30 pounds, but I have my doubts on this one. I shall soon find out for sure!

Last night I dreamed I was with my VH sisters. We were all living in some large building somewhere. I was talking to Maria, and at one point she was talking to someone while standing in a doorway. I could see what appeared to be Marsha C beyond the partially open door.

Then Maria was looking forward to reading a journal I wrote only I don’t know if I wrote it for her or about her. I then gave her my full name, including my maiden name, and asked her to find what info she could find on me. I guess I was just curious as to what she might come up with.

Then I was talking on the phone with my mother. I don’t remember what our discussion was about, though.