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msbigredmachine · 2 months ago

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The Boy Next Door: Chapter Five

MASTERLIST ✨ harmshake’s masterlist ✨ msbigredmachine’s masterlist

Word Count: 8.9k

TRIGGER WARNINGS: 18+, NSFW, language, angst, violence, smut

Poster made by me. Credit to the owners of the other pics and gifs.

A/N: So, as you all know, harmshake is on an extended hiatus from tumblr. This means I'll be handling the story henceforth. We were both able to draft and flesh out the chapters and storyline together, giving me an easier job of putting the finishing touches on each one and uploading them. I hope you've all enjoyed it, we both had a blast doing this together and hope you continue to support us and TBND!

Enjoy chapter 5! 😬

The glow of Ivy’s bedside lamp bathed golden light on her chocolate skin as she reclined against the pillows of her window seat, glass of port wine in hand, pepperoni pizza on a paper plate, her full lips curved into a teasing smile.

Across the street, in her direct line of sight, Roman lounged in a leather seat by his open window, a small plate of buffalo wings within arm’s reach on the sill. The soft yellow light from his room reflected off his sharp features, highlighting the intensity in his gaze that made her pulse quicken as they watched each other from a pleasantly short distance.

“Dude, you’re lucky I like you,” she said, biting into her pizza. “I don’t usually share my date nights with someone who isn’t even in the same room with me.”

Roman’s deep laugh rumbled through the phone. “Oh, baby girl, you don’t just like me—you adore me. Own that shit.”

She rolled her eyes, her grin widening. “You’re awfully sure of yourself.”

“And you love that about me,” he countered smoothly, swirling his whiskey.

She paused at his words, her heart skipping a beat. Love? It wasn’t the first time Roman’s confidence caught her off guard, but this? This was different. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear, the weight of the word lingering in the air between them.

“How’s Zaia doing?” he asked, as if sensing her thoughts, smartly steering the conversation away, but not before leaving Ivy with the faintest flutter of something unspoken.

“She’s doing better—just a cold, nothing too serious. She’s in her room sleeping, but she was miserable all day, poor thing. We’ve been stuck at home together today, but I don’t mind. She’s my baby. That’s what mamas do,” she said.

Roman’s voice softened, full of admiration. “I know you do your best with her. I see it every day. You’re an incredible mom, Ivy.”

She felt a flutter in her chest, his words hitting her deeper than she expected. There was something about the way he just…cared, even from afar. She took a sip of wine, savoring the smooth taste. “That's so sweet. Thank you, baby,” she answered with a warm mix of emotion and affection. “You seem to be making this whole long-distance date night thing work.”

Roman’s gaze never wavered from hers as he leaned back in his seat, his posture casual yet commanding. “I make it work because it means I get to see you. I’d do anything to make you happy.”

She felt the sincerity in his words, the weight of the connection between them growing stronger by the second. “And I’m lucky to have you around. I like being around you,” she said softly, her eyes locked on his.

A small, teasing smile played at the corner of Roman’s lips. “And I like you in my t-shirts. A lot,” he added, “You look better in them than I ever could.”

Her fingers instinctively brushed the oversized t-shirt she’d claimed during one of their late-night trysts. She leaned closer to the open window, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Glad you feel that way, cuz it’s mine now. You ain’t never gettin’ it back.”

His gaze darkened, and even through the phone, she could hear the change in his tone, low and suggestive. “You can keep it…as long as you tell me what you're wearin' under it.”

Her stomach tightened at the suggestive question, heat pooling low in her belly. She took a slow sip of her wine, her voice laced with playful mischief.

“Nothing," she responded airily.

The silence that followed was charged, Roman’s sharp intake of breath echoing through the line. Eyes darkened, he leaned forwards, as though trying to close the distance between them. “Prove it,” he rasped, that baritone of his smooth, dangerous, and inviting all at once.

Ivy took a slow breath, the challenge of his words igniting something bold in her. With a sly smile, her fingers slid beneath the hem of the t-shirt, pulling it off completely. Her smooth, naked skin shone even brighter beneath the lights.

Roman’s sharp exhale sent a thrill through her. “God, you’re exquisite,” he murmured, his voice thick with reverence and hunger. “So fucking beautiful, baby girl.”

His words made her heart race. She knew he was more than just attracted to her—he was captivated. And she was just as entranced by him.

“I wanna see more. Touch yourself for me, Ivy,” he commanded.

Her breath hitched, her pulse racing as he unraveled her carefully maintained composure. “Only if you do the same,” she challenged, her voice trembling with anticipation.

The faint rustle of fabric on his end sent a shiver down her spine. “I already am,” he confessed, his words molten heat.

Sure enough, his dick was out of his shorts, legs spread far apart, his fist moving up and down the hardened length as he reclined in his chair. "Like what you see, baby?" he asked, his body heating up when she licked her lips.

"Oh yeah. That's it, big boy. Stroke it for me," she encouraged him, her voice rough with need. “Fuck…I want that big beautiful dick in my mouth, baby," she murmured.

“Just your mouth?” Roman challenged, “Your turn. Show Daddy how wet you are."

Putting her phone on speaker and setting it in front of her, she spread her legs, giving him a full view of her goodies. She pushed her two middle fingers between her folds, gasping from the shock of the intrusion. "Unnnh, fuck," she thrust the fingers in and out of her, imagining it was Roman’s long, thick dick testing the stretch of her walls, and pulled them out, moaning as they came away glistening with her arousal.

“Jesus, Ivy, you’re drippin’…Put that shit in your mouth, baby.”

Completely turned on, she did as he ordered, hearing his groan over the phone as she slowly sucked her taste off her fingers before slipping them back inside her pussy, working them faster. Through the cloudy haze of pleasure, she caught the sweet sight of Roman’s large hand twisting faster around his large length, his lips parted, panting, the depths of his desire flooding her ears and flooding her pussy even more.

"Shit, that's beautiful, baby girl. Keep fucking your pussy like that..." He watched her head tilt back, groaning along with her as he stroked himself with the same speed as her pumping fingers. The intimacy of the moment swallowed them whole, the distance between their windows evaporating as their breaths quickened in unison.

Ivy let herself go, surrendering to the way he made her feel—desirable, fearless, alive. For once, she didn’t question the intensity of their connection or the way he effortlessly stripped her bare, emotionally and physically. She only knew she wanted more of this man, Roman Reigns. Probably forever.

Consequences be damned.

Gemini sat at her desk, the weight of the situation pressing down on her. She had never expected to be the one to deliver this news to Ivy. When Kofi—Angelo’s cousin—contacted her, she hesitated. She and Ivy hadn’t spoken in weeks and the idea of revisiting the painful subject of her friend’s baby daddy made her stomach churn. Yet here she was, sitting behind the polished wooden desk in her office, holding a letter from Kofi and a copy of the will that had been left behind after Angelo’s sudden death.

The door creaked open, and Ivy entered, her face drawn with exhaustion, still in her scrubs from her shift at the hospital. The tension in the air was thick, but Ivy’s eyes softened when they met Gemini’s, though she masked it quickly with a sharp, questioning look.

“You said it was urgent,” Ivy said, her voice guarded, her arms folded tightly across her chest.

Gemini gestured to the chair across from her. “Please sit.”

Ivy hesitated but lowered herself into the chair, her eyes flicking from Gemini to the papers on the desk. She looked like she was preparing for bad news, and Gemini couldn’t blame her. The last time they’d spoken, their argument had been raw and emotional, and the distance between them had only grown since.

“Angelo’s cousin Kofi…reached out to me,” Gemini began, her voice steady despite the knots in her stomach. “He wanted me to be the one to handle his affairs. Babe, Angelo had a will—and he left a few things behind. Things for you and Zaia.”

Ivy’s eyebrows furrowed as she leaned forward, curiosity mixed with wariness. “A will? I—” She shook her head, the disbelief evident in her expression. “I didn’t know he had anything left. After everything, I didn’t think he’d care.”

Gemini exhaled, her eyes dropping to the document in front of her. “I didn’t think so either. But there’s more here than I expected. It’s all in the will.”

She slid the papers across the desk. “He bought a house, Ivy. A house for you and Zaia. It’s fully paid for. There’s also a trust fund set up for Zaia—enough to cover her education, and a bit more for whatever else she’ll need. And a piece of local business—his cousin Kofi’s company, actually. It’s a stake in something stable. You’ll have a steady income from it.”

Ivy blinked, her lips parting slightly as she processed the information. “A house? He...he bought us a house?” Her voice cracked slightly as if the weight of the words was more than she could bear.

Gemini nodded, watching Ivy carefully. “He left you a ring too—something personal. Family heirloom, the documents say.”

Ivy’s eyes welled with unshed tears, but she refused to let them fall. She wasn’t going to cry in front of Gemini—not after everything. “I didn’t know…” Her voice trailed off, filled with confusion and a hint of anger. “Why didn’t he ever say anything? He never told me any of this!”

Gemini leaned back in her chair, her gaze hardening despite her sympathy. “I’m not sure why he didn’t tell you. Maybe he thought you’d be upset or maybe he just didn’t know how to say it. We both know he wasn’t the best at things like that.”

Ivy’s jaw tightened as she set the will back down on the desk, looking at Gemini with a mixture of frustration and sadness. “Yeah, that sounds like him,” she muttered, turning away to look out the window. “I never understood why he couldn’t just…Why everything had to be so damn complicated.”

Gemini swallowed, at a loss for words. A rarity. Ivy shook her head, the pain clear in her expression. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel about any of this.”

“I get it, babe. I really do. He was a pain, and I’m not going to pretend otherwise. But—” She caught herself just as she saw Ivy’s expression harden again, closing herself off.

“I don’t need you to tell me what to feel, Gem. You’ve done enough of that already,” she said, her tone more brittle than before.

Gemini sighed, leaning forward, her own frustration bubbling to the surface. “Ivy—”

“I gotta go,” said Ivy. “Thanks for informing me. I’ll figure it out.”

Before Gemini could say anything more, Ivy had already stepped out, the door clicking shut behind her. She sat in stunned silence, staring at the empty room. She had wanted to say more, to reach her somehow, but the words felt trapped in her chest. The rift between them continued to germinate, and it seemed no matter how hard she tried, Ivy was slipping further away.

Gemini leaned back in her chair, exhaling heavily in frustration, her fingers tapping rapidly on the desk. The silence in the room felt heavy with the unshakable tension between her and Ivy, the walls they had both built too high to break down easily.

Needing to clear her head, she decided to leave for her lunch break, grabbing her coat and turning off the lights. The moment she stepped outside the building, the air was cold, the late November weather biting at her skin. She wrapped her coat tighter around herself and began walking to her car, but a strange feeling tugged at her—a sense of being watched. She glanced over her shoulder quickly, but there was no one there.

The street was empty, save for a few passing cars.

Shrugging it off as paranoia, Gemini continued walking, but the feeling persisted. Every step she took felt heavier, more deliberate, as though something—or someone—was just behind her. She stopped at the intersection, glancing behind her again.

Nothing.

She shook her head and continued walking, but her unease only grew stronger, a cold shiver crawling down her spine. When she reached her Mercedes, she fumbled for her keys, quickly unlocking the door and sliding inside. The sense of being followed still gripped her chest, but when she checked the rearview mirror, there was no one there.

She exhaled sharply, gripping the wheel as she stared out the windshield. “I’m losing my shit. Just great,” she muttered to herself, starting the engine.

But as she drove off into the night, the nagging feeling that she wasn’t alone never quite left her.

Roman leaned back in his leather armrest, the soft expensive material creaking under his weight, his eyes fixated on the darkened windows of Ivy’s house. The house he had once watched from the shadows, studying her every move. A fond, fruitful memory.

He remembered the first night he’d arrived in the neighborhood—the house still empty, the moving truck yet to arrive. The thrill of anonymity had been intoxicating. It had all felt too easy, too perfect, like a symphony waiting to be orchestrated. His house, still almost empty that first week, had been the perfect backdrop to his plans.

He first sighted her in her backyard with little Zaia, the girl running around with their dog, Duchess, all carefree in the evening sun. There was something about the way she doted on her daughter, something warm, almost maternal, that captivated him. And he knew from the start, from the very first moment he saw her, that he would make her his.

But it wasn’t just the motherly affection that drew him in. No, it was the way she carried herself, the subtle grace she exuded. She was beautiful. Perfect face and banging body, with curves her wrap dress woefully failed to hide. He could tell there was a strength beneath her calm exterior, a depth that no one could see unless they truly watched. And he had watched her. Night after night.

At first, it had been about learning her routine—how she left for work, when she came home, the time she spent with Zaia, and the occasional moments when she was home with Angelo. Those nights, when he’d stalk the house like a predator in the shadows, the soft flicker of her bedroom light barely visible. The arguments. The passionate reconciliations. The first time he watched them fuck, a jealousy unlike anything he’d ever felt had ripped through him. Animalistic, raw. It had enraged him, the way Angelo’s touch seemed to have ownership over Ivy, the way she would give herself to him.

Roman gripped the glass harder, his dick rising at the more pleasant memory of watching Ivy, all alone this time, sprawled across her bed as she pleased herself, her body writhing on her soft sheets. It was the night after they first met, and he’d wondered if it was him she was masturbating to. He’d imagined claiming her fully, not just with his eyes, but with his hands, his mouth, his dick, buried in her wet. That jealousy, that hunger for her, had grown, and when Angelo put hands on him, he took action. He was an easy target, as were the brake lines of that jalopy he drove…Roman had made sure there was no coming back from that. That punk bitch was gone, and Roman seized the moment and stepped in, comforting Ivy as she grieved, his presence a soothing balm to her wounds.

Now, she was all his. The fire they shared, the passion—it was everything. Roman had never known anything like it. Each time he lay beside her, the warmth of her body pressed against his…each time he was inside her…he felt…whole. He had won. He had her, and together, they would be the perfect family, the one he’d always dreamed of. Him, Ivy, and Zaia.

But there was yet another fucking thing that threatened to ruin it all: Gemini.

His blood boiled at the thought of her. Poking around, asking questions, getting too close to the truth. Her scathing words had echoed relentlessly in his head since the night of her party, each syllable sharper and more grating than the last:

“I see right through you. You’re not who you pretend you are. I can feel it. You’ve got Ivy and everybody else fooled, but I’m not buying it.”

The nerve of that bitch.

Roman’s jaw clenched as he replayed her smug expression, the way she had stood close, practically taunting him. She hadn’t flinched, hadn’t look away, like she knew she was poking a bear and relished the risk. Gemini wasn’t like the others—she was too observant, too bold. That made her dangerous. Too dangerous to keep around. She didn’t know who she was dealing with. Roman had dealt with people like her before, but this one was persistent. Too persistent.

His mind flashed to the moments when he’d seen her lingering near Ivy, always so observant. So fucking nosy. Well, no more.

She had to go.

Roman leaned forward in his chair, his eyes narrowing. His plan was already in motion. It would be simple, like all the others. He would make her disappear too, and no one would find her.

He glanced over at the clock, the quiet ticking of time mocking him. Soon. As soon as he dealt with Gemini, everything would be perfect.

Roman’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. He had Ivy and Zaia now, and nothing and nobody would take that from him. Ever.

He stood, his fingers tapping against the window frame as he stared out into the darkness, knowing that soon, very soon, his family would be complete.

And that meddlesome bitch?

She was just another loose end. One he would tie up.

Probably literally.

The morning light filtered through the wide windows of his pristine kitchen island, glinting off his untouched cup of espresso. His focus, however, was entirely on the MacBook before him. Leaning forward, his eyes narrowed like a predator studying its quarry, watching the grainy surveillance footage play out on the laptop screen.

Gemini moved about her bedroom, oblivious to the camera’s hidden gaze. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he traced her movements, his fingers idly tapping the screen. She thought she was the hunter, investigating him—but Roman always stayed one step ahead.

Night after night, he would watch her scour through case files, searching through news reports, and any scrap of information to uncover his identity. Her determination was unlike anything he had encountered before, and it unnerved him in a way few things ever had. He needed to act before she finally found something and took it to Ivy—or worse, someone else. Like that lame ass five-0 she was fucking, Hayes.

He had to hand it to her. Though he had perfected this dance over the years, she was different. Her confidence infuriated him, and some part of him wanted her to know, in her final moments, that she’d been right about him all along.

The smart TV on the kitchen wall murmured in the background, showing a clip of Montez, the distraught fiancé of Bianca Belair who was still missing, pleading for her safe return. Duchess was fast asleep in the conversation pit a few feet away. But it was the lazy clink of cutlery that had his attention. His gaze flicked to his girlfriend, who sat quietly across from him, her fork absently tracing circles through the barely eaten scrambled eggs on her plate. She had been distant for days, her mind clearly elsewhere. Something was weighing heavily on her.

“You’ve been quiet,” Roman said softly, his voice low, filled with a tenderness that Ivy had come to trust. “What’s going on, babe?”

Ivy hesitated, her stomach knotting the way it had for the last few days, since she’d learned of Angelo’s surprising bequest. The weight of it was heavy on her chest and she had kept it to herself until now, unsure of how to even begin processing everything. Roman had been a constant presence since Angelo’s death—strong, supportive, and patient—but this was something that still made her feel vulnerable.

Roman shut his laptop and motioned her over. “Come here.”

She made her way over to him, allowing him to pull her onto his lap, his forearms winding protectively around her. His lips pressed against her shoulder. “Talk to me,” he whispered.

Ivy sighed heavily and bit the bullet. She’d been carrying this burden alone long enough. “Angelo…he wrote a will,” she began, her voice faltering as she struggled to find the right words. “He…he left things. A house, a trust fund for Zaia, some business stake—things I never thought he’d care enough to leave behind.”

Roman raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt, watching her closely. He knew that whatever Angelo had left wasn’t just about the material things. He could tell that it was something deeper—something Ivy was still trying to understand herself.

“I know what this is about,” he said quietly. “I know it’s not just about what he left. It’s about him—about everything he kept trying to do. Trying to come back into your life even when you told him no.”

Ivy let out a long, quiet breath, her gaze dropping to the counter. “He couldn’t just let it go, Ro. He couldn’t accept that we were done. That we been done for a long time.” Her voice faltered, but she quickly steadied herself. “He kept trying, always trying to force himself back in. And now…now, he’s gone, and he’s left me this…this mess.”

Roman’s gaze never left hers. “I know he wasn’t easy on you, and I know he made things complicated, even when you were doing your best to move forward.” He gently reached out, placing a hand on hers. “But I also know you loved him, at least in your own way. He was Zaia’s father. And now, with all this…stuff he left behind, I can’t imagine how hard it is for you to figure out how to feel about it.”

Ivy’s face was full of vulnerability. “He was a good father to his baby. He really was. I can’t take that away from him. But he kept trying to get back into my life. He was always coming around, always expecting me to give him another chance. And now—after he’s gone—I’m left with all this guilt. I don’t know if I’m supposed to be grateful or angry.”

Roman’s hand tightened around her waist, a reassuring squeeze. “You’re allowed to feel both, Ivy. You can be grateful for the good he did for Zaia, for the father he was, while also being pissed at the way he treated you. You don’t have to choose.”

Ivy swallowed hard, nodding as the weight of his words settled into her chest. “I just…I don’t understand why he didn’t do this sooner. If he really wanted to fix things, if he really wanted to show he cared, why didn’t he do it when I needed him to?” Her voice was a whisper now, as if the thought itself was too much to bear. “Why did he make everything harder for me?”

“Maybe he didn’t know how,” Roman mused. “A lot of people—especially people like Angelo—they don’t know how to express what they really feel until it’s too late. Maybe he didn’t realize it until the end. Maybe he didn’t know how to fix what was broken between you two.”

Ivy shook her head, wiping away a stray tear that had escaped. “But that’s just it, Roman. He never listened. He never saw me. He always just assumed what I wanted, what I needed. And now—now he’s gone. And I’m stuck with all this…uncertainty. I’m stuck with a little girl who won’t understand any of it. And I can’t even process any of this because of the way he kept pulling me back in.”

She had fought so hard to let go of the past, to move on from the chaos Angelo had brought into her life. It wasn’t fair that after all that struggle, this new development was now forcing her to confront everything she had tried to forget. She was trying to build a new future for herself, for Zaia…and possibly Roman…but this…this was a lot to carry.

“Hey,” Roman said gently, squeezing her hand, “Baby, I know you’re angry, and I know you’re hurt. But you’re not alone in this. You’ve got me. You don’t gotta carry all this by yourself. We’ll figure it out together, one step at a time.”

Ivy let out a long breath, her chest rising and falling. She felt exhausted, like the weight of everything had finally caught up with her. But hearing Roman’s words, feeling the warmth of his hand on hers, she knew she wasn’t alone anymore. Maybe she couldn’t control everything—maybe she couldn’t change what Angelo had done—but she could still move forward. She had a choice. And she had Roman.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly as she leaned into him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Roman smiled softly, caressing her face. “You’ll never have to find out. I’m here, Ivy. I’m here, no matter what.”

Ivy met his gaze, the conflict in her heart still there, but the steady, grounding presence of Roman gave her something she hadn’t had in a long time: a sense of peace. She didn’t have to have all the answers. Not yet. But with him by her side, perhaps she could start to heal.

Roman’s hands gripped the steering wheel, a million thoughts plaguing his mind as he navigated his Range Rover down the suburban streets enroute to Zaia’s elementary school. The sunlight streamed through the windshield, bouncing off his dark Ray-ban Aviators and giving his already cold demeanor an eerie, impersonal sheen. Ivy sat beside him, chattering away, little Zaia in the backseat singing along to the music, some song from Gracie’s Corner, blaring from her iPad. Roman had tuned them both out completely, their cheerful voices nothing but background noise to the storm that had been raging in his mind since Ivy dropped that bombshell on him.

Damn you, Angelo!

He was seething. That fucking bastard’s will felt like a final act of sabotage, the ghost of the past reaching out from beyond the grave to pull Ivy back into a world of chaos he’d worked so hard to shield her from.

But he wasn’t just angry at Angelo. No.

He was furious with Gemini for delivering the news. For helping tear open old wounds Ivy had spent years trying to heal from, all in the name of business. A burning rage surged through him. Like Angelo, Gemini had become another anchor Ivy couldn’t free herself from. Another reason for Roman to despise that bitch.

A sudden burst of repetitive, high-pitched music jolted him from his thoughts. Zaia had restarted the same insipid song she’d been playing since they got in the car, the tinny melody grating against his nerves like nails on a chalkboard. Roman’s fingers tightened on the wheel, a muscle twitching in his jaw. The sound seemed to fill every inch of the vehicle, piercing through the thin layer of control he’d been holding onto.

Zaia continued to sing her little heart out as the cheerful tune played on. It was relentless, drilling into Roman’s skull. He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to keep his composure. He glanced in the rearview mirror, catching her innocent, happy expression, one he usually appreciated but now he just couldn’t stand the sight of.

“Little lady,” he began, his voice carefully even, though the tension brewing in him laced every syllable, “you don’t got any other songs?”

Zaia beamed at him. “But it’s my favorite! Don’t you like it?”

He hated it. The tune quickly became a nightmarish loop, and for the first time in hours, his thoughts of Gemini faded—not from guilt or doubt, but from sheer, unrelenting irritation. The song pounded on, and Roman’s fingers tightened on the wheel, his knuckles stretching unnaturally against the black leather.

On the third replay, he snapped.

“Man, turn that shit off!” His voice was a whip, sudden, loud, and vicious.

The car fell into a stunned silence. Zaia’s lip quivered, her breathing pattern changing, quickening, before she burst into tears.

“Roman!” Ivy exclaimed.

“What I do? I just told her to change the song!”

“I want my daddy!” Zaia wailed.

“That’s too damn bad,” Roman shot back coldly, his deep voice dripping venom as he twisted his head to glare at her. “You ain’t never gon’ see that piece of shit no more cuz he’s dead!”

Ivy’s heart stopped. She turned in her seat, gaping at him in complete shock. “Roman! What the hell is your problem?”

Chastened, he opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off, absolutely livid. “Stop the car. Now.”

“Ivy, I—”

“Stop the damn car!”

Roman exhaled heavily, muttering under his breath as he pulled the SUV to the side of the road. Ivy didn’t wait for the car to come to a full stop before she threw the door open. Her legs were shaky, but her fury propelled her forward. She yanked open the back door, gathered Zaia and her backpack, and marched down the street toward the school building. At the entrance, she set Zaia back down on her feet, but the little girl refused to let go of her, clinging to her neck like a lifeline.

The sight of her daughter’s distress pierced something deep within her soul. Kneeling down, she held her tightly, letting her hold on to her for as long as she needed, even as the school’s morning bell rang around the building, signaling the start of the day.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Ivy murmured softly, her voice laced with guilt. She rubbed Zaia’s back in slow, soothing circles. “Please don’t cry, my snuggle bug.”

Zaia hiccupped through her sobs, her voice trembling and barely audible. “I don’t want Roman to be mad at me, Mama.”

The innocent remark hit Ivy like a punch to the chest, momentarily stealing her breath. It dawned on her that her little girl had grown attached to the big man. She struggled to find the right words to reassure her. “He’s not mad, sweetheart. He’s just…had a tough morning.”

Zaia’s sniffles grew louder, her fresh tears spilling over. She clung to Ivy tightly, her small fingers gripping almost desperately at her mother’s scrubs.

“I miss my daddy,” the little girl whimpered, her words a fragile echo of her broken heart.

“I know, sweetie. I know,” Ivy replied, her voice wavering as she fought back her own tears. She gently cupped Zaia’s face and wiped away the wet streaks with her thumbs. “It’s okay to miss him. But guess what? He’s watching over you in Heaven. He'll always be in your heart, okay?”

But even as she tried to console her daughter, Ivy’s mind raced. Zaia’s distress gnawed at her. How could she send her baby into school like this? Would it even be fair to ask her to focus, to pretend everything was fine when it so clearly wasn’t? The uncertainty weighed heavily on Ivy’s shoulders, even as she pulled Zaia into another hug, pressing a soft kiss to her curls.

“Little lady?”

At the sound of his voice, Ivy glared up at Roman’s approaching figure, his face a mix of remorse and something she couldn’t quite name. She tensed, shielding her baby girl with her body. “What do you want?”

“I just…I want to apologize,” he said, his expression soft and remorseful. “Ivy, please. I was wrong. Let me make up for it.”

Ivy studied him warily before giving a reluctant nod. “Fine. But you’d better mean it.”

She didn’t take her eyes off Roman as he crouched down to Zaia’s level, his chiseled face drawn with regret. “Hey, little lady,” he said gently, his voice soft, almost tender. “I am so sorry for yelling at you. I didn’t mean to, but I was wrong to do that. Can you forgive me? I’ll never do it again, I promise.”

Rubbing her nose, Zaia looked to Ivy for approval, and Ivy, despite her better judgment, gave the go ahead with a short nod.

“Okay. I forgive you,” Zaia answered, her smile small and watery.

Roman smiled back, his features awash with relief as he hugged her tight. “Thank you, Zaia.” He tapped her little nose playfully. “Tell you what, how about we get some ice cream after school? Just you, me, and Mommy. Wherever you want, and whatever flavors you want. That sound good?”

It was a winning bargain, as Zaia instantly brightened and she nodded eagerly, throwing her arms around his neck in another big, warm hug. Waving goodbye to the two adults, she spun around and zoomed off through the doors of the school. Roman smiled at her retreating figure, but when he turned back to her mom, the look in his eyes was more pleading than apologetic.

Ignoring him, Ivy kept her distance all the way back to the car. The moment the doors were shut, she exploded.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Roman? She’s a child!” she yelled.

Roman’s jaw ticked. He rubbed his face and exhaled a shaky breath. “You…you wouldn’t understand.”

“What’s there to understand? You fucking yelled at my daughter! You think I’m gonna let that slide?” she snapped, her anger barely contained. “Gemini warned me about this. To think I keep defending your ass, only for her to be right. This is how you really are!”

“No it’s not, I swear!”

“Then tell me what’s wrong! You've been acting up all week! Something is up with you and I wanna know what it is! And don’t lie to me!”

He hesitated, then dropped his gaze. “Okay then. Here’s the truth.” He swallowed hard. “Today…marks a year since…since Elesha died.”

Ivy blinked, her fury momentarily giving way to surprise. She hadn’t expected that. Her scowl softened, though her wariness persisted. “I’m sorry, Roman. I can’t imagine how hard that must be. But that don’t mean you get to take it out on Zaia or be an asshole to me. If being with me, being with us, is triggering you, just say so. If it’s too much—”

“It’s not too much,” he said quickly, his voice breaking. “Ivy, I swear to you, it’s not. Don’t ever blame yourself for my fuckup. I’m just…I’ve been trying, really trying, to process it all.” He looked at her, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Everything’s happened so fast. Losing her, moving here and meeting you…My feelings for you are so strong, and it scares the shit outta me cuz I don’t wanna lose you too.”

His vulnerability struck her like a tidal wave, raw and unguarded in a way that left her breathless. Roman looked shattered, the weight of his emotions carved into every line of his beautiful face. She hesitated, her own walls trembling, before gently resting her hand against his cheek. Her voice, barely more than a whisper, trembled with conviction.

“Babe, you’re not gonna lose me. I only just found you,” she said. “I told you before. I’m here for you Roman, just like you are for me. I just need you to stop bottling things up and talk to me.”

A fragile, watery smile curved his lips, but it couldn’t mask the storm raging in his eyes. He leaned into her touch, his forehead resting against hers as though she was the only anchor he had left. For one brief, stolen moment, the chaos around them stilled.

“I don’t deserve you,” he rasped, his voice thick with anguish. “I don’t know how to be without you. You’ve made my life worth something again—you and Zaia. I’m so sorry I snapped at her…Please, Ivy. I know I messed up…Don’t leave me. I need you.”

Her chest constricted, the ache in his voice cutting through her like glass. The desperation in his gaze was a dagger, and despite every reason to walk away, she couldn’t. Because whatever doubts had begun to creep into the edges of her mind paled in comparison to what she was starting to feel for him. She was painfully aware of how hard, how undeniably she had fallen for him too, and it was in equal parts terrifying and exhilarating.

Her fingers traced his jaw, her own tears threatening to spill. “I accept your apology,” she whispered, moved enough by the emotions pulsing between them to seal her words with a gentle kiss that tasted of unspoken vows and quiet redemption. “And I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured, kissing his forehead as well, her voice steady even as her heart thundered, even as the doubt lingered. “I promise.”

“You sure you don’t want me to come over? I can leave this function that I’m at. We can just kick it for a lil’ bit.”

Gemini smiled into the phone, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger. “Thanks, Melo, but I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“So you don’t wanna see me? Damn, ma,” Carmelo sighed, the smooth baritone of his voice sending a delicious shiver down her spine. She knew he meant well, but the last thing she wanted was for him to worry about her more than he already did.

“Of course I wanna see you. I always do,” she insisted, her voice gentle and assured. “I just don’t want you feeling like you have to drop everything for me.”

“I know I don’t have to,” he replied, his tone laced with a quiet insistence. “But I want to. That’s different.”

She bit her lip, her gaze drifting to the window. The evening’s shadows stretched across her home, her reflection faint against the glass. His words warmed her, tugging at something she didn’t want to admit she’d missed—feeling cared for, wanted...a lover’s touch.

“I appreciate it,” she said softly, letting her guard down just a little. “But I promise, tonight is just about me catching up on work. Nothing to stress over.”

Carmelo was silent for a moment, and she could almost picture the wheels turning in his head. “A’ight,” he said finally, though the hesitation in his voice lingered. “But if anything changes—if you need me, or if you just feel like some company—holla at me and I’ll be right over. No questions asked.”

Gemini couldn’t help but smile again. He always knew how to walk that fine line between protective and overbearing, never crossing it, even when she pushed him away. “I’ll hold you to that,” she teased lightly. “But seriously, don’t let me mess up your evening. Have fun.”

“You know my nights ain’t the same without you, right?” His voice was teasing, but she could hear the undercurrent of truth in it. Her stomach fluttered, making her shy in a way only he could.

“You’re smooth as fuck, you know that?” she giggled.

“Nah, I’m just honest. That’s why you like me so much. But I’ll let you get back to it—for now.” There was a smile in his voice now, and it made her chest ache in the best way.

“Goodnight, Officer Hayes,” she whispered.

“Goodnight, Miss Beaufort, Esquire. Don’t work too hard now, okay?”

She nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “I’ll try.” And as the call ended, she found herself staring at her phone, wondering just how much longer she could keep her guard up around someone who made her feel so safe, so…loved.

Sighing heavily, she refocused on the legal briefs and deposition notes scattered across her table. The phone call was a distraction, a brief escape from the mind-numbing class action case she was working on, but boredom gave way to curiosity as a notification popped up in her email, the logo of the dark website she frequented glowing on her laptop screen.

Her gaze was locked on the unopened documents. Tagged Psycho Hottie: The Coral Lake Butcher, the post drew her in with its absurd title. She clicked out of boredom, expecting yet another bizarre story or twisted fantasy from the forum’s strange array of users. Instead, she was staring into the face of someone she knew.

Roman.

There was no mistaking the sharp cheekbones, the slanted eyes, the smirk that always hovered at the edge of his lips. It was him—or at least it looked exactly like him.

Her stomach knotted as she clicked on the article accompanying the sketch. Published two months ago, the headline was simple but chilling:

Her eyes flicked down to the grainy mugshot embedded in the article, and her breath caught in her throat. It was Roman, no question about it. Shorter hair, but the same dark intensity in his eyes, the same chiseled, angular face. But the name was different. Roman Reigns was what Ivy called him. Mateo Hobbs was what the Floridian police called him.

The text beneath the mugshot only worsened her unease.

It has been nearly a year since Mateo Hobbs escaped police custody following his arrest for the brutal murders of his wife, Elesha Hobbs, and her alleged boyfriend, Tama Tonga. At the time of her death, Elesha was four months pregnant.

Witnesses reported seeing Hobbs flee from the Pensacola police precinct three days after his arraignment. He was awaiting formal charges when he disappeared.

Since his escape, Hobbs has been linked to a string of homicides along the Florida coast, with most victims being female sex workers in their twenties and early thirties.

Her blood cold, Gemini scrolled down, and her heart nearly stopped when she saw the photograph of his wife.

Fuck.

She looked just like Ivy.

The resemblance was uncanny—same smooth, deep brown skin, same pretty almond-shaped eyes, same slim thick figure. Roman had a type, it seemed, and Ivy fit it perfectly.

The article went on to describe his other possible victims. Young, beautiful women in their twenties or thirties. Throats slit. The pattern was clear, and Gemini’s mind immediately flashed to Rhea and Bianca.

Rhea, a pregnant woman. Her throat, brutally cut, several weeks ago. Another woman, Bianca, had disappeared shortly after. Probably dead, too. Both of them, as the Hartford Police discovered, were sex workers outside their day jobs, with Rhea an OnlyFans model and Bianca an escort. One woman from Middlesex and another from Fairfax, two towns en route to Hartford, died the exact same way Rhea did a couple of months ago. This felt like the markings of a serial killer, and Gemini had little doubt that Roman—no, Mateo—was responsible.

And then there was Angelo.

Gemini’s hand flew to her mouth as it hit her like a ton of bricks. Angelo had died in a car crash not long after Roman came into the picture. Everyone had assumed it was a tragic accident, but now Gemini could see the truth, almost clear as day. Roman had probably followed Angelo to that bar. Tampered with the brakes that had mysteriously failed.

Roman killed him.

She felt a wave of nausea but pushed it down, forcing herself to focus.

The article ended with a warning:

“Hobbs is considered armed and extremely dangerous. If sighted, do not approach. Contact law enforcement immediately on these numbers...”

But Gemini didn’t have time for law enforcement. Ivy didn’t have time for law enforcement.

Her hands moved on autopilot as she clicked “Print,” the printer spitting out page after page of damning evidence. She grabbed the stack and stuffed it into her bag, her thoughts racing.

“You’re always looking for problems where there aren’t any! Roman’s been nothing but good to me. Just because you don’t trust anyone doesn’t mean I should be the same!”

She and Ivy had barely spoken in weeks, but Gemini didn’t care. Her best friend’s life was on the line. She shoved her phone into her bag and bolted for the door. She had to get to Ivy. Immediately.

Her mind was a chaotic mix of fear and determination. Would Ivy even listen? Or would she laugh off Gemini’s warning again?

It didn’t matter.

She wasn’t going to let Ivy end up like Roman’s wife, like Rhea, like Bianca, all those other women. And she wasn’t going to let Zaia grow up without a mother. Not when she no longer had a father, probably thanks to him.

She’d been suspicious about that monster ever since he stepped foot in Ivy’s house that night, sensing something off about his charm, his intensity, the way he inserted himself so seamlessly into Ivy’s life. And now she knew why.

She had to stop him.

The night air was cold as she stepped out of her house and rushed to her Mercedes. The air outside was eerily quiet. Too quiet. It was then she realized how empty her street was. No, it was more than empty - it was deserted. Worse, she felt like she was being watched even though nobody else seemed to be around. The stillness was oppressive. Not just silence, but wrong silence—the kind that seemed to buzz in her ears like a phantom noise, amplifying every beat of her heart.

And yet…something deep in her gut told her yet again that she wasn’t completely alone.

Gemini glanced down the street again, her unease mounting with every passing second. The dim, flickering streetlights cast jagged shadows that seemed to stretch and reach for her. Uncharacteristically spooked, she started to open her car door.

She froze, her mouth slowly falling open in horror.

Roman stood across the street, mere meters from her home, a black hoodie over his head. He wasn’t moving, but the intensity of his stare felt like a physical force, pinning her to the spot. Gemini’s breath hitched, her body going completely numb with terror. She tried to scream, but no sound came. Her throat was void, and terror was the only thing filling it.

Fuck, the word tumbled through her mind, frantic and desperate, Fuck, fuck, fuck!

She squeezed her eyes shut, praying to God that she would open her eyes and it would be nothing more than a hallucination. Maybe it was a trick of the dim light. Maybe she’d open her eyes and find the street as empty as it had been moments ago.

But when she dared to look again, Roman was moving. Striding towards her with deliberate, predatory determination.

At this, Gemini’s paralysis finally snapped. Her brain finally gave her legs permission to move, and she spun on her heel and bolted, her feet pounding against the pavement as she raced for her front door. Her bag bounced wildly against her side, her breath bursting in shallow, ragged gasps.

The edge of the pathway betrayed her. Her toe caught in the stone step, and she tumbled forward, crashing hard to the ground. A sharp burst of pain flared through her knee and palms as they scraped painfully against the concrete, but adrenaline surged through her veins, propelling her back to her feet.

Her house loomed ahead, so close, but yet so far. She fumbled with her bag, her injured fingers trembling as she rifled through it for her keys.

But Roman was fast. Quarterback fast. In an instant, he was behind her, his body slamming into hers and pinning her against the door with his entire two hundred plus pound frame. Her cheek pressed against the cold wood, causing a strangled cry to escape her lips.

“Where ya goin’, huh?” His voice was deep, terrifying, and far too close to her ear. His breath was hot against her skin. “You think you can run from me, bitch?”

Terror clawed at her throat, but through the fog of panic, she remembered - the can of Mace buried in her bag that Melo gave to her. Forcing herself to concentrate, Gemini discreetly dug her hand into her bag, feeling for the small, cylindrical lifeline.

Roman grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back, forcing her to meet his wild, hate-filled glare. Pain shot through her scalp and tears sprang to her eyes, but she didn’t let go of the Mace.

With a burst of defiance and a quick twist of her arm, she whipped the can up and aimed. A sharp hiss filled the air as the spray found his mark.

“Arrrrgh!” Roman cried out in pain, clutching his face as he stumbled back. His curses rang in Gemini’s ears, but she didn’t waste a second. The keys were in her hand now, and she jammed them into the lock with shaking fingers. The door gave way at last, but just as she made to slam it shut behind her, Roman charged, tackling her to the ground in a vicious spear that almost broke her body in two. The impact knocked the wind out of her lungs, the back of her head hitting the hard floor, and she was sure she was concussed. Roman pounced, straddling her waist, pressing one hand against her throat as he held her down. His face, usually handsome and composed, was like something out of a horror film, his eyes wild and filled with hatred and madness.

There he is…I knew it…

Grabbing Gemini by the hair, Roman stumbled to his feet and dragged her past the foyer, her desperate cries swallowed by the echoing silence of the house. Her nails clawed at his sleeved arms, her legs kicking wildly, the polished floor chafing uncomfortably against her skin. Her struggles were futile—Roman was too strong, his grip vice-like and unyielding. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the blinking red lights that should have been on the overhead cameras were gone. Disabled. By him, surely. He’d been in her house before, probably scouted her out in preparation for this day. Her heart sank as it dawned on her that no one would witness her futile fight for her life.

As they reached the kitchen, Roman lifted her bodily off her feet, throwing her against the counter. Gemini hit the table spine-first, sending her crashing painfully to the ground.

“You just can’t leave shit alone, can you?” Roman snarled, his breath coming out in short bursts, his rage barely contained, “Always sticking your fucking nose where it don’t belong!”

Gemini gasped through her tears, scrambling to get away, but Roman easily caught up to her retreating form.

“I’m so fuckin’ sick of your shit,” he snarled, his voice venomous and trembling with fury as he stomped on her right leg with brute force.

The crack of her bone echoed sickeningly all around the kitchen. Gemini screamed, the sound animalistic and blood-curdling, but it barely registered in the lifeless air. Pain surged through her body like wildfire, reducing her fight to pitiful spasms.

Roman’s handsome face twisted in a grotesque mask of a set and satisfaction. Slipping on a pair of black gloves, he crouched down beside her, tilting his head as though appraising a broken toy.

“Not so mouthy now, huh, bitch,” he taunted.

“P-Please…please don’t do this, Roman,” Gemini sobbed, clutching at her shattered leg.

“Learn to shut the fuck up for once in your goddamn life,” he growled, his voice low and terrifying as he pulled out a knife from his pocket.

The blade flashed in the dim light, and before Gemini could process the motion, the cold steel sliced across her throat. Her scream died a gruesome death, a wet, choking gasp accompanying the blood pouring from the gaping wound. She tried to speak, to beg for what was left of her life, but all that came out was a pathetic, gargled noise.

Roman was on a roll, his chest heaving as he paced in circles around her twitching body.

“Stay the fuck outta my business, you nosy bitch! Ivy is mine!” he roared, pointing at himself. “She belongs to me! Ain’t nobody gon’ take her from me, not even you, you understand me, you-”

Lifting his right leg off the ground, he slammed it back down, a brutal stomp of his foot to her face following each word.

“Worthless!” Stomp.

“Fucking!” Stomp.

“Bitch!”

The awful sound of bone crunching filled the room. When he moved his foot, he saw that Gemini had gone stock-still. Her face was unrecognizable, her blood spreading in dark rivulets across the vinyl plank flooring.

Roman stood over her, his fists clenched and trembling as the red fog of rage cleared from his brain. The silence in the kitchen was deathly, deafening, broken only by his labored breathing. He looked down at the mangled, lifeless corpse, his nose wrinkling in disgust at the mess of bone, flesh and blood pooled around his feet, staining his black Air Forces.

“Goddamn it,” he sucked his teeth, wiping a hand in frustration across his sweaty forehead.

It wasn't supposed to go like this. Gemini was supposed to stay out of it, to leave him and Ivy alone. But her dumbass couldn’t. And now, he had another body to clean up.

But it was worth it, because no one would interfere with their love anymore.

Ivy was all his now. Forever. Just like she promised him.

And he planned on holding her to that promise.

😬😬😬

Thanks for reading! Your replies and reblogs are so much appreciated! Also keep your Asks coming, we’re loving all the theories!

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#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #roman reigns fanfic #the boy next door #tbnd #harmshake #roman reigns au #roman reigns x black oc #otc #the bloodline

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jodilin65 · 8 years ago

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THURSDAY, JUNE 30, 2016 I was surprised to find my blog included on the list of Top 2016 Blogs. :) I learned this when I saw it was the referral page of one of my visitors.

Went to the pool just before 6pm. It was 100 degrees and desert dry. The water aerobics was just finishing up. I saw a woman (Debby?) I recognized from the afternoon aerobics that’s been here 7 years and met a couple that just moved in 2 weeks ago.

Here’s the shocking part… the pool is to be locked at 8pm due to vandalism. Here?!?! I guess maybe some kids were jumping the fence and cutting the locks, so they started using these cable locks. But why close the pool 2 hours earlier due to this?

Contacted a local rattery about their rats, but haven’t heard back from them yet. That’s too bad because I’m very hesitant to get any more rats from pet store chains. They simply don’t take the time to handle them enough from birth so that they’re not as shy.

Noticed that I’m not as hungry much lately, not that I’m complaining. I also noticed I haven’t had that intense PMS hunger in months where I’ll have a day or two before my period where all I want to do is eat yet I never feel satisfied. These days, however, I don’t know when it’s coming because it’s gotten erratic.

Still hear from the woodpecker every now and then in the early mornings. Fortunately, it can’t wake me up thanks to the sound machine I play during my sleep, but it’s annoying when I am up. It usually only makes a few pecks, but any more and I must shoo it away with a broom. During vacation, Tom’s going to blow leaves and debris from the roof. It’s after fallen seeds from trees and stuff like that.

So it took me 3 pillows to find the right one. Surprisingly, the longer bamboo pillow I got with shredded memory foam was harder to shape to my liking than the shorter one, so now I’m back to using that one, and that’s the one I’ll stick with. It’s ideal for all sleeping positions.

Although I know I won’t get a reply, I messaged Joan’s family and explained that I live in California now, was a student of hers, and would love to see any pics of her from the 70s if they had any.

Later…

So Holly must’ve seen my message on Facebook cuz now her friend list is invisible. Although I didn’t tell her or Shannan that I found Shannan through her list, she obviously put two and two together. Or she told Shannan she heard from me and Shannan said, “Funny, cuz so did I.”

Still kinda insulting if you ask me. Not replying to someone is one thing. Hiding like a coward is another. It makes a person feel almost feared for absolutely no reason at all, not to mention insulted. Maybe she just figured that if I could find her and her friends, so could others. But all I did was say hello to them. I didn’t stalk, harass and badger them. So why be so rude about it? It’s almost like she might as well have replied with, “Ew! Who the hell wants to hear from you? Go away! I’m gonna hide my friends from you now, you ugly, unwanted, crazy loon.”

It will be interesting to see how she acts the next time she cleans my teeth.

The more I see Aly bitch about the depression she tried to pin on me, the less I miss her

Contacted a local rattery this evening. Hope to hear from them soon. Really want to check them out over his vacation. One more day!

3.5 hours to go till Camp NaNoWriMo begins! Not very prepared, though. I mean I have a basic plot mapped out, but no real details as of yet. With this soft word count of 10K, that’s less than 400 words a day needed to hit my goal, so I’m not worried about it.

Shane is now fully finished. I shared it on Facebook with Tammy, but don’t know if I’ll share it elsewhere just yet. It’s over 16K.

How did Bob manage to get the blinds up over the garage window that faces the afternoon sun without waking me up? That’s like right outside the bedroom window, and I would think that would take some hammering, unless he drilled the hooks in.

I told Tom that I hoped he wasn’t trying to cool the garage for upcoming projects, and he said he doubted it or else he’d just throw an AC in the window. I’m surprised he hasn’t already.

The new people are still behaving, but that could be because of the heat. It’s safe enough to say the people next to them won’t be a problem, but it’s still too soon to judge them.

Started the only diet that seems to work for me, once again, due to waking up at 154.8. That’s getting a bit high for me. Wish I knew the magic number I could safely diet down to without my meds backfiring on me, though if it were under 120 it wouldn’t matter. I’m more interested in not being so damn fat than I am in getting “skinny.” I’m probably a size 14. Well, I don’t need to be a size 3 again, but somewhere between 8-10 might be nice. It would give me a little more mobility.

I had a dream I was running across the street and opening a mailbox the size of a round Pringles potato chip can. In it was a tennis ball. I shut the “mailbox” door and raced back across the street. A young Hispanic man grinned at me lustily and I found it odd being a fit but aging fatty.

Then a delivery truck pulled up with only 1 of 3 (coloring books?) I ordered. Tom took the one that was handed to him and told the guy that we were expecting 3.

For some reason, I thought the guy might turn violent and I wanted to be prepared to try to fight if need be, so I slipped on a pair of long bright yellow pants that were skin tight and totally see-through.

But then the guy left and I told Tom that we better stop using “off-brand” delivery services and just stick to the well-known companies.

In the last dream, I was floating on this thick gross mossy “raft” on a pond somewhere. Something dangerous, though I don’t know what, lurked in the waters and I was afraid the makeshift raft would sink.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 29, 2016 I was watching the 90s movie Flowers in the Attic. I’ve read the book and seen the movie but watched it anyway since it had been a long time. I thought of how the evil grandmother reminded me of Joan Bowe, a 5th-grade teacher in the elementary school I went to that I had a “crush” on, or whatever the proper word is for being just 10 years old at the time and therefore totally non-physical. I might have even been as young as 8 when I first saw her.

So out of curiosity I ran her name and found she JUST died last month. Wow. This is the first obit I ever saw that gave the cause of death – dementia and diabetes.

My mind then reflected on some 40-year-old memories. She hated me. She would never dare say as much, but looking back on it now, I’m sure she must have at least a little bit. In modern times she probably would’ve been quicker to catch on to why I was such an obnoxious kid and maybe even felt a bit sorry for me. But this was the 70s. Nobody felt sorry for kids that acted out due to their shitty upbringings. Your home life was private and you were expected to be “normal” in every sense of what the word meant back then. Yet I got on her nerves, acting out mostly for attention, and even called her a few times. Not to prank her, but just to talk, which eventually got back to my parents, of course. They ordered me never to call her again and I didn’t.

Mrs. Bowe was heavy but had a pleasant face and nice long dark hair. Interestingly enough, though, I never saw it down. She put it up every single day. Buns weren’t a big thing back then, so she sort of clipped it up with a large barrette. Never even wore it in a braid or a ponytail. Guess it wasn’t considered very professional back then.

I feel bad for the letter I sent her back in 2000 or so before the freeloaders really raked me over the coals. My main point was to point out what I just said; yes, I was obnoxious and I was sorry for that, but kids don’t usually behave in the way that I did without a damn good reason. One that’s no fault of their own. We’re responsible for our own actions as adults, but are we really as children? I don’t think kids are 100% responsible for their actions and behavior. Then again, sometimes not even adults are. If a man comes at me with a knife and I kill him for it, did they really leave me much choice?

It wasn’t pointing this out that I regret. I shouldn’t have mindfucked her while I was at it and said I dated her son just to shock and maybe piss her off. I never even met her son. The obit says he was married with 3 kids. I’ll bet she treated him similarly to how my mother treated my sibs and me. Mrs. Bowe was a very stern woman. No one really liked her.

The last time I saw her was at some teacher meeting at Williams Middle School. I was in grade 7 or 8. She was then around 40 and had cut her hair off.

In 1988 at age 49, she lost her 63-year-old husband. Damn, that’s a long time to be a widow!

RIP, Mrs. Bowe. You were a bitch, but a hard worker who probably had quite a bit of her own baggage to deal with.

I can’t stand to be on Facebook right now with all the daddy posts the girls are slamming on the feed. Ugh! I get it. I really do. I just don’t need the unwanted reminders/memories.

His obit said Lisa’s got a “life partner,” Michael Beebe. What happened to marrying Jasper?

Remembered that Aly could actually read my only public blog without me knowing it. I remembered last night that I tested and verified this for her not too long ago. She might not have been so quick to admit it but she always preferred to follow me on my-diary because I couldn’t track visitors there. Then she set things up so she’d appear invisible to my tracker when I dropped my-diary.

So much for me making Aly depressed based on the tweet I just read about how getting overlooked triggers her depression and how it’s hard being a newbie. A newbie where? shrugs Either way, I think she’ll always be depressed until she realizes that most of it comes from her, physiological or not, and stops blaming others for it. Yet she always does, sometimes directly, other times in a roundabout way. Sure, people can influence our moods; I just think she’s putting more of it on others when it should be on herself. But it’s her life, her moods, her choice. :)

LOL at her always having to repeat herself to Kim… as always. His fault or not, I hated having to do that with Andy.

Kim must’ve been really curious about Aly’s “real” and “happy” dream because she got her to elaborate even more on it. She said it was just her getting an email from me. How is it “unrealistic” to get an email from someone? Perhaps it’s because I don’t know her current email account. She changes accounts more than anyone I’ve ever known and I’ve always wondered why, too. Not judging, just curious.

Ask her what I said in that email, Kim. :)

I must be more psychic than Aly at least this time around because my ultrasound showed NO signs of plaque building up in my arteries – yay! It would explain why I had no nightmares warning me that trouble was amiss. If I have dreams warning me about others I would certainly get a heads-up if my own ass were on its way up Shit’s Creek. :) I was a little worried, though, cuz these people don’t usually call with good news.

So if the retrial is a bust I can tell the doc that I’m not only sick of the medicine drama and need a serious break from it, but I don’t have any plaque anyway!

The only negative is that we’re back to square one as to what’s making me dizzy. We’re still thinking it’s perimenopause-related. I had a nice week off, but it’s been bad again these last few days.

Tom may have a point when he suggests that my earaches could be allergies, which would also explain why it’s intermittent. I have no toothache on that side, and I do sometimes feel fluid draining in the very back of my throat that seems to come from that side. Afterward, my ear feels better. But why did it take nearly a decade after surgery to become an issue, and why does congestion make it ache? Damaged nerves from surgery? Inner ear tube issues? The problem is I can’t take decongestants just anytime I want to because they make me so drowsy. I don’t want to feel like napping when I go to work out or run out to the store. I just hope I feel good and well-rested for our vacation. Can’t wait!

I thought I might sleep shitty since I slept well the last time around, but I slept ok. Surprisingly, I only slept 6-7 hours the last two nights. Usually, I need 8-9 hours.

TUESDAY, JUNE 28, 2016 Happy birthday to Tom! Too bad he has to work today. He’s got 5 goals he hopes to accomplish by the time he hits his 60s next year. He wants to get to 200 pounds or less, get his blood sugar to 90, sell at least one computer program, do the floors we want to do, and get rid of those hideously ugly Cypress trees alongside the carport. Well, he won’t get rid of them, but whomever we hire to come and feed them to their wood chipper will.

The thought of him entering his 60s is a bit of a sad and scary thought to me, though I typically don’t consider one to be “old” until they’re over 65. Then again, I know it’s how the person feels and that age is just a number. Still, the 60s is a far cry from the 30s, which is where he was when we met. He was just about to turn 35 actually.

Later…

It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s a dead Bill G! I feel horrible for my nieces, but being the mean little shit he was to so many others, I can only say that I hope his suffering was immense and intense in the end.

I also hope Tom’s right in thinking that no, Tammy’s not still in love with him. I know we can’t help who we love, but I sure would wonder about her if there were still any lingering feelings other than for the girls’ sadness and at such a young age.

While the girls see him as their oh-so-wonderful daddy, I still see him as the guy that abused women and children and helped get me thrown in jail for daring to speak up about it. He never did a day in jail for his abuse, as he should have, while I did time for words on paper. God only knows what other people the freeloaders may’ve pissed off that sent things to them that were automatically assumed to be from me and therefore pinned on me.

Meanwhile, I slept really well (which means I’ll probably sleep shitty next time around), so if the dead can pick on the living, he hasn’t gotten to me yet.

Doc A’s office left a message at 5 o’clock asking that I call them back. I left the damn phone on the bathroom counter when they called and was in the living room. I know it’s pointless to worry about it now, but I couldn’t help but feel a stab of fear course through me. I also couldn’t help but remember Alison’s tweet about having a dream that scared her the day before my ultrasound. I know she was referring to me, but to the best of my knowledge, she has not been reading my blog at all.

If I’m up late enough I’ll have to call in the morning. If not, I wonder if maybe Tom should try to call and get information or not. I’m hoping that like he said they’re just calling to tell me everything’s okay, but that’s not the feeling I get, even though it doesn’t seem reasonable that they’d wait this long to contact me if something were wrong. It’s been almost 2 weeks since the ultrasound.

I’m having “normal” anxiety right now where I’m a bit shaky and feeling like I have to take a dump I can’t take. The kind I’d get in the hotel and trailer. My heart isn’t racing or pounding. Just slightly trembling hands and shaky breath, but I don’t feel like I’m suffocating. Just got a bad feeling. When are things ever that easy for me anyway? My ear’s been worse (especially laying down), I’m dizzy again, and well, something’s been determined to shit on my health these last 2 years, just like I feared it would if we got a nice place to live and were comfortable financially.

Oh, to go back to having my worst problems be getting rejected by someone I was interested in. Or wanting something I could never have. Or wanting to be something I could never be. I miss these so-called problems as opposed to worrying about my health and mind and how medication may affect it. I still worry about growing old, too.

If those who believe we’re not given more than we can handle are correct, then I’ve got to be “killed” with Tom or before he dies.

The reincarnation theory still makes no sense due to population fluctuations, and I think it’s still safe to say that the dead can’t influence the living. If they could, wouldn’t our loved ones influence more of us to win the lottery? And wouldn’t they help end or prevent our suffering? Think of a murder victim whose killer goes on to have a great life with all kinds of great things. Well, certainly they would see to it that they were miserable if they could, wouldn’t they?

But what I don’t know is whether or not there’s a God up there punishing me or why it would inflict me with so many issues if there is. Earaches and dizziness may not be as bad as kick-ass anxiety that leaves you feeling like you’re about to die, but it’s bad enough to make me wonder about things. Did I stab someone in the ear in a previous life if I had one? Or could it be that ant I stepped on in 1996 or something? I just wonder if I’m going to be forced to scramble to try to figure out one issue after another until I die. Yet so much of it remains shrouded in mystery. No ear doctor has ever helped my ear and no one’s ever told me why I’m dizzy. I can only guess it’s the perimenopause or my ear. I don’t think I have low BP or low blood sugar. I don’t think it’s anxiety either.

After thinking Aly wasn’t going to tweet today, she just tweeted that she’s back on iron shots. But is her blood cancer cured?

Also, I’ve been wondering if the dream Aly last tweeted about was positive or negative, and thanks to Kim, she answered that question. I can’t actually see Kim’s tweets as they’re protected, but it was obvious enough that she was asking about it just from Aly’s side of the conversation. Aly said it was “nice. Unrealistic but a happy dream.”

I love those kinds of dreams. I’ve had some pertaining to Nane, but most of the dreams I’ve had about Aly were either neutral or negative, to be honest. Would really love to know what that dream was that scared her because she too, has proven to have dream premonitions. She’s as intuitive as she is smart. Hoping that the fact that I myself haven’t had any questionable dreams is a good sign, though, but time will tell. As Tom, Tammy and Stacey always say… think positive and don’t worry about what isn’t actually happening yet, if it does at all.

Firecrackers sure are happening now, though. Sounds close too, like it could be in the park, but maybe not. Sound travels better at night. But why now? It’s not the 4th yet.

Anyway, a part of me feels guilty for following Aly’s tweets even though they’re public and technically anyone can see them. She’ll change accounts soon, though. She always does.

I don’t remember exactly when it was, but a while back I was the one to actually dump Aly. This was the first time I caught her being deceptive, though she promptly owned up to it, took total responsibility, and apologized. I quickly came to regret my decision to cut ties with her, realizing how much I’d miss her and how she has so much more good in her than bad, reached out to her, and we resumed our friendship. A part of me is hoping that she is or does eventually read this and does the same for me, but not expecting it.

I feel worse for how I handled her dumping me. I realize I shouldn’t have said and done some of the things I did, and while I’m truly sorry for it, I can’t go back and undo it either. Nothing’s changed… I miss her, I would take her back into my life even if I shouldn’t, but she has decided she’s totally sure she wants me out of it, so I’ll stay out and remember what others have told me… true friends are always there for us. Always. They may not always agree with us and they may voice their opinions at times, but they always love and accept us just the way we are.

They say that if we’re thinking of someone, they sense it and think of us too, if it’s someone we know. In other words, I can’t think of Kate Jackson and expect her to think of me in return or anything like that. Maybe I should make a point of thinking about Aly more. LOL, I’ve always wanted to “make” people dream of me. Only thing is that most of those people wouldn’t be happily skipping through a park with me or enjoying a nice chat with good food, know what I mean? I don’t want to chase Aly through a dark forest or toss her off a rooftop, but it’s nice (and kinda funny) for her to be reminded of my existence, the person she one day tossed aside.

Love reading about myself on the rare occasion I’m mentioned (that isn’t in an insulting way). I know it sounds funny as hell, but it’s almost like being in touch without still being in touch. I know I should let go completely and never ever look in on her, but it’s harmless and time will cause me to do just that anyway.

For now, I sometimes wonder if I should, well, not “fight” for her, but make one last-ditch effort to see if we can work things out and resume the friendship, but I feel I’ve been the one to play that role one too many times in life. I’d like to see someone fight for me for once. I just don’t want it to always be on me, you know? Yet the longer she stays away, the more I’m sure she really meant it when she said there was no going back.

As I’ve learned, never think anyone’s in your life to stay, cuz maybe they’re not. I wasn’t 100% sure that Aly and I would always be friends but I was in the 90s. They say, however, that in 7 years from now, we won’t have the same friends. Well, we were friends for 8 years, and I’m still friends with Christine, Adonis and Mitch, but many friends and acquaintances from 2009 are no longer in my life. Nothing bad necessarily happened with all of them; we just went our own ways.

Another thing I’ve learned is that cyber friends are just as “real” as face-to-face friends. They’re not just a name on a screen, but real people behind those names, avatars and profiles.

I’m still extremely hesitant to make any new friends, cyber or not. Yes, I miss getting to know different people from all over the world. But I don’t want the drama either. I may not be perfect myself, but I’ve been stalked, I’ve been lied to, and I’ve been hurt. I just need a break from any possible newbies/drama right now.

MONDAY, JUNE 27, 2016 Tonight I’m feeling a little dizzy and depressed. I still don’t get how I can miss someone who continually lied to me and then dumped me, but nothing lasts forever, right?

Death is on my mind again, probably because of the dying bastard back east. I’m thrilled that he’s dying. No one who can do the things he’s done deserves to live. I wonder, though… is he contemplating the afterlife? If he believes one exists, does he fear what lies beyond? Or does he believe he’s going to heaven to have one big happy eternal blast? Undoubtedly, he doesn’t believe he did anything wrong. Most abusers don’t.

Wherever he ends up, if there is an afterlife, I just hope he can’t have any influence on my “nowlife!” Many believe it takes a few months before the dead can affect the living, while others argue that they can do it right away because there is no such thing as time in the afterlife.

Anyway, I was thinking of Tom’s family. I miss having his family close by but still loathe how they gave up on us simply for having one too many rough times in life.

IDK, I just miss having local friends and family, but am also glad we don’t at the same time, if that makes any sense.

I REALLY miss the days when Tom was always home like he was during those 2.5 years, minus the Jes pest, his mutts and trailer, of course.

Later…

“Had such a real dream involving a former friend that I can’t help but wonder… There is no going back though.”

Last night I asked myself how I could miss someone who, as she herself admitted and apologized for, continually lied to me and then callously dumped me. When I read the second sentence of this rather interesting tweet, however, I realized there really is nothing to miss, is there? Yet I do. I miss checking in with her on Twitter, I miss her intelligence, and I miss swapping writing ideas with her.

I still don’t understand why I still feel hurt, and a little angry, over someone that clearly doesn’t give a shit about me and probably never truly did. Not if she could lie to me the way she did and make certain comments she never thought I’d see. So I asked myself…if you wouldn’t forgive certain people for what they’ve done to you, why her? The only answer I can come up with is that she didn’t screw me over nearly as much as some others have. There’s no comparison between what she did to me, as shitty as it is to be lied to by phony people, and what some others have done to me that cost me a world of emotional grief, freedom, money, lost sleep and a whole lot more. Seriously, it’s like comparing a little slap in the face to being viciously beaten over and over again with a bat. Well, Alison was that little slap in the face, though that slap still stings at times and I’d probably be dumb enough to talk to her if she contacted me.

I briefly considered and then changed my mind about contacting her because then she’d just do what she always does and deactivate her account and create a new one. She’ll no doubt do that soon enough anyway, but if I contacted her she’d do it even sooner. I like reading her tweets, though I can’t understand why. Maybe it’s because this is the most “honest” she’s been about me. If someone doesn’t think you’re reading them, then they tend to be more honest about what they’re really thinking of you. Believe me, Tammy would never write how awful I looked (unless she was pissed at me) any more than I would publically write, “Great to finally see my big sis as horrible as she looks.”

While I don’t think the blood cancer thing was one of her many lies, why no tweets about that and the chemo treatments, etc.?

She put a selfie on Twitter and Fitbit where she’s leaning a cheek on her fist. Great way to hide what’s no doubt a chubby face. She said Fitbit stretched it and made it look chubby. Maybe because she is? I’m not that active on Fitbit, but I’ve never known them to “stretch” pics, and the pic looks the same on Twitter. Seriously, I’ve seen pics of her from years ago and she was clearly heavy. Like as big as I am if not bigger. Yet I’ve never known her to describe herself as being fat and has said that obesity doesn’t run in her family. Could be in denial like Kim is about her own weight, but that’s their problem. I just write my observations and figure that if some can see themselves as fat when they’re not, maybe some see thinness where others see fat. At this moment I doubt she’s 150-152, which is my usual weight range these days. She’s probably between 120-130.

Good to know I’m haunting her dreams just like she’s haunted mine (LOL), though I haven’t had any of her recently. Would just LOVE to know the details of the dream, too. Maybe she’ll miss me a decade from now, read this and tell me.

I also have to wonder… Was I really that bad of a friend???

For dreams, I had very faint snippets of thinking I was hearing the voices of some guys that broke into our house, which didn’t look like our house, as usual, and something about taking a statin. I did it fearlessly, so it seemed, and I hope that’s a good sign. Really REALLY want that retrial to work!

SUNDAY, JUNE 26, 2016 Slept as horribly last night as I slept well 2 nights ago. After just a few hours of sleep, I woke up every other minute. So I took melatonin and lay there for quite a while before I finally returned to sleep.

Although the dizziness has been wonderfully minimal, I worry about it returning with a vengeance. It seems worse today, and as I learned years ago, few things are ever really quite gone forever. The past really does have a way of returning to haunt us.

Meanwhile, Bill’s in New England, not Florida. This I learned when Sarah & Becky posted that they’d flown up to him yesterday. So I guess the shitster’s days are numbered. I only wish it could have been me to kill him instead. Slowly. Very slowly. And painfully.

Those girls sure do spend a lot of time on Facebook despite the circumstances, and I’m sure Sarah will post another selfie that looks just like most of her others any time now.

Not passing judgment or anything, but I don’t get why some people pray for what can never be changed. You know, sort of like me praying to be tall. Some things just are, like it or not, and there isn’t really much we can do about it but accept it and try to make the best of it. Meanwhile, I guess it’s something for the believers to understand and me to wonder about, not that it really matters. They’re not harming anything. Harm is only done when we try to make others like us and force their minds and hearts to go places they just don’t want to go.

The AC had me worried yesterday. When I’m sleeping or doing something physical I set it to 76° and to 77° when I’m not. Well, when I saw the thermostat read 81° after setting it to 76°, I was really worried that something was broken and we’d have to go to a hotel. But Tom simply turned it off, waited a minute, then turned it back on. A few minutes later it was running just fine. Not sure what happened, but during the vacation we’ll have it checked out and given a Freon charge. Really don’t want to have to shell out 2 or 3 grand on a new unit right now when we’re still paying other things off. The heater crapping out would be one thing since we have portables, but there’s no substitute for the AC. Couldn’t help but think, though, that as much as a broken AC would suck, it sure beat feeling like I was having a heart attack and literally about to die.

The master bath’s drain plug pulled out of the sink. The metal stick in back that you pull up and down, I mean. Tom attempted to fix it but says he needs to do it when he has more time, like over the vacation. As I told him, it’s not necessary that I fill the sink to soak off nails. I can always pour soapy water into a Tupperware dish and do it there.

Played around with the sculpting clay last night and found I just couldn’t get into it like I hoped to and like I once could have. I can still sing, but for the most part, my artistic side has morphed into a technical side over the years. That’s ok, though. I enjoy writing, languages and tech stuff immensely.

In the middle of this dry 105-degree day, we decided to head out to Raley’s with the slow drivers and screaming brats. Well, we got hung up by our typical Cali creepers, but any kids we saw at the store were civilized.

Really wish they’d ban public smoking! Others may not give a shit about their lungs, but I care about mine. Go kill yourself at home, I say. But you know how our twisted laws are… feelings first, actual damage second. Secondhand smoke doesn’t “hurt my feelings” or offend me. It’s only bad for my body. rolls eyes I’ll probably never go to casinos again mostly due to that. Haven’t won much since our Vegas/Laughlin days anyway.

So we grabbed some things we needed at the store, and also another set of Impress nails in a bright pinkish-orange color with accents. For now, I’m giving my nails time to breathe. I treated them with that expensive hair, skin and nail oil I got on the ship that smells really nice, like suntan lotion. My cuticles are dry and my nails are a little beat up. It’s also nice to take a break so I can type easier and not snag them in my hair or catch them on objects.

Eating some oatmeal and Greek yogurt. Never seen this combination before so I had to try it. It’s edible but I doubt I’ll get it again.

What else… Got half of my book edited, Bob and Virginia returned yesterday, and the new people are quiet. The car stereos blasting down the freeway at night, well, that’s a whole ‘nother story. Again, I don’t get the twisted laws in this country. It’s not just allowing for a huge disturbance of the peace, but how the hell can they hear sirens over that shit?

Trying not to think of a certain person in NE who lied as easily as one breathes, then so callously dumped me, leaving me virtually friendless. Sorry, but it’s hard to consider people like Christine or Charlotte as the kind of friend I once considered Aly to be. Thought of befriending her through a bogus account, but it’s not worth the time or effort. I’d only be the same liar she is if I did that anyway.

I’m also trying not to think of the fact that the statin retrial is less than a week away. “What if I do ok, then have a problem when you go back to work?” I asked Tom, and he said that wouldn’t be the case, and that if I were going to have a problem it would happen within the first 2 or 3 days.

And he’d be the only one to believe me if I did. Decided I wouldn’t ask for an alternative if it does backfire on me. After 2 years of this on-and-off hell related to medication, I can only take so much more of this shit. I just can’t keep putting myself through this hell. Really hoping I can tolerate the medication, though!

A part of me wishes I could see Stacey every month for life since I feel so much better afterward, LOL, but I’ll probably be seeing her every 3-4 weeks for a while. Every 1-2 may be more ideal, but 3-4 suits my schedule better. Love that woman for how helpful she’s been!

Actually got horny and got off last night without the pounding heart. Get Tom in on the action? Nah. He hasn’t shown any interest in years, and what’s the point if I get a rare surge of horniness when he’s asleep? We’re getting older. I just thank God (figure of speech not meant to be literal) I don’t have the appetite I had when I was younger. I would never love him any less, but would probably have to hunt for a sex partner.

Last night I dreamed I visited Andy. He said something had worsened about his health and I said, “And I gained weight. Like 3 pounds.”

Then I called a hotel to make a reservation (not a bad sign, I hope), and the woman I spoke to said she tutored me back in school. So I guess the hotel was in MA. After hanging up from the woman I tried to recall who she may be, but couldn’t. It seemed like any tutors I could think of should be very old if not dead by now, and wondered how she knew who I was since I gave my married name.

In another dream, I was telling someone how good it felt to “hang” myself. That is in hanging from a bar by my hands.

In the last dream, I was in an indoor pool and someone was blowing a huge fan onto the water’s surface and I wasn’t too happy about it.

SATURDAY, JUNE 25, 2016 It may not be so hard to peel these nails off after all. One popped off after I showered and the others are loose. No sticky residue left behind like with the other nails.

Xfinity was across the street again, and so is the American flag. That reminds me…maybe I’ll put up my cute, colorful floral and kitty flags. I just get sick of the damn things wrapping around the pole, even though we got one of those things that is supposed to prevent that from happening.

They still have the “sale pending” sign up.

I slept surprisingly well and long, and I wonder if the ibuprofen I took before bed for an earache had anything to do with that. I doubt it, though.

Not doing much today. Yesterday was cardio day so today is strength training day. I will also make out the grocery list and continue proofreading and editing my last book.

Though no fault of her own, Tammy hasn’t exactly had positive news of her own to share for a while, and so I’m hoping that the surgeries they’ve done to help alleviate her chronic pain are helping her to have a more active life. She too, lives in a beautiful place and it would be nice if she could enjoy it more.

Apparently, Bill is in Rhode Island and not Florida because Becky and Sarah are flying there right now. No matter what, I will never forgive the guy. I will always see him as the abuser that he was, and the guy that helped get me sent to jail. In my eyes, he deserves any suffering he may experience.

Tomorrow Tom and I will enjoy his only day off this week, then he has to work a whole week, and then it’s vacation time!!!

Since using Squigle (no, that’s not a typo) Tooth Builder toothpaste I have noticed less sensitivity within my teeth as it closes up and repairs any cavities in my hopelessly soft enamel. No wonder Tom said someone said it was much better than Restore. It’s fantastic!

Last night’s dreams were strange and sexual in nature. I was getting on with Doc L, LOL. Then I was watching a news broadcast about a woman who was sent to prison and how people said she would now get what her infamous

FRIDAY, JUNE 24, 2016 I spoke with a neighbor today but not the new ones. It was Geri in the gray house across the street. She’s been here seven years. She said she just had a $2000 roof repair that the inspector missed when she had it inspected. Yes, inspectors like to miss things, don’t they?

We ended up chatting as I was pulling in the recycle bin, and I caught her out trimming bushes.

I still can’t get a handle on who moved into the new house, but there could be as many as three people living there. I’ve seen a couple in their 50s or 60s and I’ve also seen a very old man who walks with a cane. There might also be a younger guy who could be some kind of caretaker if not a family member that’s helping them get settled. I just can’t say for sure.

My biggest concern was loud vehicles and projects. It’s too soon to say whether or not anyone’s going to be obsessed with hammers and saws, but the good thing is that it does look like they’re a one-vehicle household, and their white SUV is quiet.

They were out and about until after 11 when a brown SUV that was a little loud left for the night. I’m glad that thing is not going to live there, even though there are louder vehicles like the car across from Bob and Virginia.

There was a work truck there around lunchtime, but it wasn’t there for long. They have a lot of stuff sitting in their carport. The white SUV has been sitting in front of the place for the afternoon.

It doesn’t look like they have any dogs, but it’s too soon to judge how they’re going to be. I never really had any bad vibes about them, but I’ve had more important things on my mind like the upcoming statin retrial, and dealing with how unbelievably shitty I sleep.

Fell asleep at about midnight and every time I would conk out I would wake back up. Finally, after two or three hours of doing that, I took a lorazepam and I did sleep a little better. Because I’ve gotten too used to the lorazepam, I won’t take it tonight. I’ll just let myself keep waking up and sleep shitty and be a little tired tomorrow. I don’t have any cleaning to do or anything physical other than working out on the Bowflex (today’s the treadmill). Tom will be working.

I worry about him because he has an abscessed tooth but won’t go to the dentist because of his phobia. He said he would get antibiotics if he got sick, but that his body is still young and healthy enough to fight infections. Let’s hope so! His wife has enough shit to deal with so we don’t need his health going down the drain or anything like that.

I dread my next trip to the dentist! Really afraid she’s going to come out and tell me I have several cavities, or worse, teeth that need to be crowned. Either way, I am trying not to think of my health until I am actually faced with certain issues.

Dropped the cap to my lip balm under my desk and I can’t find it at all. One of our future rats will no doubt drag it out being the kleptos that they are.

Got some mushroom ravioli at Raley’s and it is so damn good!

Later…

Today’s one of those days where I feel the exact opposite about Aly than I felt a couple of days ago. Despite my own faults, she bullshitted me like crazy, and I don’t miss that or all the hypochondriac drama, or the crazy nutjobs connected to her that would latch onto me. I’ll probably go back and forth in my mind for some time to come, however.

I like to at least check her tweets every now and then to see what’s up with her. That way I feel like there’s still some sort of connection, but without the toxic drama.

My nails still look amazing and like they were just done. I want to switch out to something new but I never want to take these off either. I used to think people paid a lot of money to have these designer nails done in salons, and they did, but now that I know you can stick them on in seconds for a fraction of the cost, I will definitely be looking for more. It’s a little more expensive than regular nail polish as what you pay for a set of these is around the same as you’d pay for a bottle of nail polish that you can use multiple times. I still think it’s worth the extra cost. I love how they never chip and always look perfect. Still find it hard to type with the longer ones, and I don’t like catching them in my hair, but they’re pretty awesome. No more ridges either. :-)

The box these Impress nails came in says it’s not recommended you wear them for more than seven days. I wonder why.

They also say that to remove them just gently peel from the sides or use polish remover. I can’t believe it’s possible to just peel these things off!

Two cars came to visit the new people, and at one point at least half a dozen people were chatting in the street, one of them going by on a golf cart. They weren’t that loud, and again I’m so glad we couldn’t end up with welfare bums, college kids or large families to deal with so close to us! I do NOT miss those days.

Still too soon to say exactly how many people live there and how they’re going to be as neighbors until they’re settled in, but my guess is that it’s a couple living there (the old man I saw might also live there) and that their only vehicle is the white SUV.

I’m loving that I’m 100% anxiety and pain-free, but dreading the eventual return of these things that can’t seem to stay out of my life forever. I don’t expect to never experience pain again, of course, but it would be nice if I didn’t have to have any serious anxiety. It’ll come back, though, at some point. It always does. After two years of dealing with it on and off, I can’t expect it to go away forever.

THURSDAY, JUNE 23, 2016 It was actually Kim who mentioned Auburn, so I saw after I reread the tweets. But at least Aly didn’t correct her and tell her my real town, even if it would have been harmless.

It seems like Kim has stopped checking up on me, so for the millionth time, I deactivated my old Twitter account, and this time it’s probably for good.

A huge moving truck showed up about an hour ago, but I still can’t see any people or tell who’s moving in. I did see a white woman exchange greetings with a black woman who was visiting next door to them, but I don’t know if the white woman is going to be living there or not. She asked the black woman if she was living there and all I heard was, “No, I…” and then blackie took off.

There is also a large pickup parked in front of the gray house in front with tons of boxes in it, but I don’t know if that’s connected or not. I’m guessing whoever they are must have decent money to be able to hire movers, and such a large truck, too. I’m hoping they work and therefore don’t have the time to move themselves, but I agree with Tom, they’re probably retired and can’t move themselves easily enough. As able-bodied as Bob is, I can’t picture him and Virginia moving themselves. I know we couldn’t get lucky enough to get working neighbors, so yes, I’m sure that they’re retired, whoever they are.

I still have a lot to worry about… loud vehicles, motorcycles, too much company, screaming kids visiting, cars blasting stereos visiting, mutts left to bark outside windows and doors, and most of all… projects. Tom suggested that since they hired movers they might be too old for projects. Not necessarily. Bob’s 86 and he can handle power tools just fine.

I just find it hard to be optimistic with my track record for neighbors, Retirement community or not. I’m just so glad we’re in a retirement community, though, where the chance of trouble (or at least as much trouble) is lower. It would also be easier to do something about it if the problem was serious enough. I would hope so, anyway. Another thing is that the chances of them being black or Muslim aren’t good. God, I hope that’s not what we’re in for! Honestly, though, I’d rather quiet Muzzies than rowdy whites. But with them, I’d still have to worry about being killed whereas blacks are just rude and tend to be more trouble.

Yesterday there was a pickup and an SUV over there, but I think those were workers of some kind. Xfinity was there this morning.

I could probably escape most of any noise they made by going into the bedroom, but they could really make hanging out in the living room in the daytime pretty annoying.

As for Bob and Virginia, they definitely took off somewhere. If one of them were in the hospital, then the other one would be driving in and out to see them. I’m just a little surprised they didn’t tell us they were taking off, but due to the heat and how I feel at times, I haven’t been out and about as much. Therefore I’m not running into them as much.

That car that came early in the morning probably took them to the airport, and I would bet their SUV is in their garage, which has been closed up. The last time they went on vacation a year and a half ago, their son and English daughter-in-law stayed at their place. They were quiet but left their really bright garage light on all the time.

The Egyptian cotton sheets are luxuriously smooth and comfy. I should have gotten two sets of those instead of one of those and one flannel.

If it weren’t for difficulty typing because these nails are longer, I would definitely vote Impress nails as the #1 artificial nails I’ve tried so far. They’re easier to apply and they don’t snag my hair as much.

The light on the toilet is on once again, but everything still seems to be working fine.

Two days ago I had a headache and I did the tapping routine twice and it actually went away! I didn’t need to take ibuprofen or anything.

Today I woke up both tired and dizzy because I didn’t sleep well. I fell asleep earlier than I thought I would, but as usual, I woke up a million times along the way. So I tapped for dizziness and fatigue, and I actually perked up! It’s just amazing. I was able to finish the rest of the cleaning, but like yesterday, I didn’t work out. I’ll make sure I do tomorrow.

Tom is working this Saturday, but I’m okay with it. As long as he’s at this job, he’s never going to work just 40 hours a week. That’s simply not part of this job. I’m just glad it’s a European company so he gets more time off, especially with all the damn appointments I have.

I had a dream I met this skinny woman and was shocked to learn she had Hashimoto’s and was on levothyroxine. I asked if she could eat all she wanted and she said no.

In another dream, I was (visiting? Living?) with Andy. He was whining and bitching at me from two rooms away. I put some bags that contained his laundry just outside the room I was in which was between my room and the room he was in and said, “I put your stuff in the corner here.”

He came into the room and said he didn’t hear me, and I said, “Sorry, I can’t hear people when they talk to me from other rooms either,” hoping he’d think he wasted his breath complaining about whatever it was about me that was irritating him.

Then I went back to folding more laundry on my bed and seemed to fold some of Tom’s shirts.

Then I had some dream about Tom wishing he could show me to his co-workers so they could see that at my age, no, I wasn’t beautiful, but I was ok, LOL.

In the last dream, the roof was leaking, but it didn’t make any sense because it was leaking in front of the refrigerator and over the part of the counter where I color.

Last night Aly tweeted: I always hate that I feel so awkward and hesitant around those who have an obvious disability.

But she has no problem around those who are fucked in the head? For once Kim told the truth on one of her accounts. In one where her handle is “paranoid ghost,” her bio says: I am a Paranoid Ghost. I get paranoid all the time and also I can be delusional at times. Mess with me and you will face the consequences.

This is the only time I’ve ever known her to be honest and tell it like it is. So Aly feels perfectly comfortable around the delusional?

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 22, 2016 I admit it. I still miss her. I know I shouldn’t and that it’s pointless, but I do. Maybe the dreams I had about her last night are the reason she’s on my mind so much today. They weren’t bad dreams, but she’s been showing up in my dreams more often since she let me go. I wish I could say I was 100% totally over her, but I still have mixed emotions about our friendship ending, and sometimes it still hurts.

I admit that I was the one who dumped Andy and I shouldn’t have said otherwise. I don’t miss him, Paula, Nane, Maliheh or Mary, though I will always remember and wonder about them from time to time.

I wish I could put Aly, however, completely in the past just like she did with me. I guess it’s not that easy when you were friends with someone for eight years regardless of how dishonest they were to you along the way. We had as much in common as we had our differences. I never minded our differences, though. I didn’t care that she was more accepting of Muslims. I didn’t care that she preferred colder weather while I prefer warmer weather. I didn’t care that she preferred short hair while I prefer long hair. But being similar mattered to her and she chose to cut ties on account of that and my bluntness, and I have no choice but to respect her wishes. We can’t make people want to be in our lives. I get that. She wanted me gone from her life and so I’m gone, like it or not.

I don’t expect her to ever contact me, but if she did I know I wouldn’t do what I should do. No, instead I would be glad to talk with her. I would take her back into my life in a heartbeat, even though it would be against my better judgment and I would probably end up regretting it. I would have to be a lot more cautious than I ever was before because, as she herself admitted and apologized for, she wasn’t always honest and she probably still isn’t.

She hated my bluntness and honesty, so if she were suddenly back in my life I would have to make sure I wasn’t as quick to express my opinion and say things I was pretty sure she didn’t want to hear about whoever and whatever. Not sure I would like that kind of arrangement, but sometimes you just have to compromise. She was just more sensitive than I realized.

Like I said, I don’t expect to hear from her ever again, but I sure do miss her at times. I really do. Today’s one of those days where I would have gladly texted with her which I know is something she always loved to do. Maybe she’s sick of that sort of thing by now, but today would have been a good day for that for a few reasons.

So yeah, even though it’s probably best that I never do, I would really love to hear from her, even if my logical side knows that you don’t dump people you truly, honestly care about and accept as they are. Anyone I myself have ever dumped in the past; it was because there was something about their behavior or personality I simply couldn’t accept or tolerate. If I could have, they’d still be in my life unless they chose to cut ties with me.

I keep thinking of her tweets. She’s been up to the usual kinds of things for the most part, but there were a couple of tweets that grabbed my attention. One was surprising and the other was a bit chilling.

Like me, Aly has been known to have dream premonitions. The one that was a little scary was how she mentioned having a dream that had her scared for someone she shouldn’t be. Why do I get the feeling she was talking about me? If she was, the thing that was a little unnerving was that this was the day before my ultrasound. However, I didn’t have any bad dreams warning of impending danger, and no one ever called about the test results. They haven’t even been posted online.

The surprising tweet was when she said she was thinking about a former friend and wondering how she was doing, but wonder was all she would do. Pretty sure that one was in regard to me. So she’s been thinking about me, too. Wow. Well, if that’s the case and she was scared for me (assuming I was the one she was talking about) then that goes to show that a part of her still cares just like a part of me still cares about her. No, I didn’t like the lies and clinginess, but I liked everything else and I miss her at times. Just those little things like doing CampNano together and things like that. A part of me wishes we could be friends again with me assuring her I’d keep more of my opinions to myself, and her promising to just not say anything at all rather than bullshit me, but life will go on and I will survive.

Speaking of camp, I have 11 cabin mates in the cabin I have been assigned to. So I guess I’m going to camp in July. :) Until then I will be editing the book I just finished.

In observing her tweets with Kim, I appreciated that she still refers to me as being in Auburn and hasn’t told Kim my real town, not that it should matter. Kim’s obsessed with two things (besides lying), celebrities and weather. So they discussed the weather, and my old town came up when they were discussing the heat most of the West is experiencing.

Later…

Tom checked Social Security and we’d really be hurting if he retired at 62 with just a grand a month. We could barely live on that in the $300 studio they had in the Klam, which is probably now going for $500 and will be over a grand by the time we’re old.

Still sleeping shitty. I’m tired all day yet up forever. Lorazepam doesn’t cut it for me anymore. It doesn’t knock me out like it used to, nor does it prevent me from waking up so much. So I guess I’ve gotten too used to it and can forget the stuff for a while.

We’re trying to decide if we want to go anywhere during vacation that’s just a couple of hours away like Reno, Lake Tahoe or San Francisco. The thing is that I’ve pretty much been all over the country as well as to other countries. So while I’d love to live in Maui during the winters, traveling just doesn’t excite me like it once did. I won’t rule it out completely, though. We have plenty of time to decide.

Although I’m still a little lightheaded at times (especially if I’m active), I’ve been free of pain and anxiety lately, so that’s good. Still feel like a first-class wimp for how I handled certain things, even though I know I shouldn’t. We all handle things differently, as Stacey and others have reminded me, and it’s pointless to play the comparison game. If you want to compare a sore throat to someone paralyzed from the waist down… ok, I can see that. But hardships are hardships. Some things I handle better than others, some things I don’t, and I know that’s ok. I’m human just like anyone else. All I can do is my best. I try to think positively, be optimistic, and focus on the good. If I could’ve been less impacted by certain events, I would’ve been. I didn’t actively choose some things to get to me as much as they did, but I’ll just leave it at that. :)

Love these artificial designer nails, but I hate snagging them in my hair. I think I’ve pulled out more hairs with these than what fell out when my thyroid crashed.

Just got the leggings with the colorful candies printed all over them and while I love those too, I couldn’t get into these things if I were still 100 pounds. :( So, gotta return them.

Also got our new light blue 600-TC Egyptian cotton sheets. They feel nice to the touch, but I’m not sure how well they’ll stay put despite their deep pockets. I think they’d fit a queen better. So far only flannel and jersey sheets stay put best. The only problem with jersey is that they shrink like crazy.

The light on the toilet finally went out. Still don’t know why it got stuck on in the first place, but it made a nice nightlight.

Something’s definitely amiss next door. I just don’t know what. Pretty sure someone was there this morning, though. When you’re a homebody you see things and you get to know the normal routines of your neighbors. Well, they always have their garage door open in the daytime unless it’s cold or raining. Always. And they always make 3-4 trips in and out each day. Both today and yesterday the door has been shut and I haven’t seen anyone come or go.

They’ve been quiet since September, and as selfish as this may sound, I really hope nothing happened to one of them, or else the other will move. I don’t want to deal with any more newbies. As it is I’m still worried about what we’re in for on the other side of us. The carpet was cleaned this morning, and I saw what I’m pretty sure was the realtor and some workers over there for a little while.

TUESDAY, JUNE 21, 2016 Physical and emotional report first: No anxiety. Slept shitty, but got a lot done, including cleaning and exercising. Started off mildly lightheaded, but after 5 hours it intensified (not to the point that it got scary and I felt all weak in the legs or anything like that) and I also became more fatigued.

Stacey told me that I should not only tap every day for anxiety, but that some people do it for pain, too. So I tried it and it worked on my headache! Yeah, I had one of those intermittent, “moving” headaches, but after two rounds of tapping it diminished. I just wish the dizziness wouldn’t be an everyday thing, even when it’s mild. God, I miss more and more aspects of the old me the older I get!

YES! My book Shane is finished! It’s not quite a short story and it’s not quite a novel. More like a novella. Next comes the boring part… editing the 16011-word story. It’s 19 chapters, including the epilogue, and 50 pages long at point 12 Cambria font.

I wonder if something bad happened to either Bob or Virginia because, at just 5am, I saw a car pull out after I heard a series of door slams. I had just gotten up and was like, you’re kidding me. It’s 5am and the traffic and door slamming has already begun? I first wondered if they were going on vacation, but realized they probably would have told us, as well as the fact that they usually go in the winter (except for last winter). At least one of them was home by 8 o’clock.

I was browsing some YouTube videos on EMDR therapy sessions, and wow. The brain really is a fascinating thing. We may not know everything there is to know about it, but what we do know is pretty amazing. The technique seems pretty straightforward. The client is told to focus on their most disturbing memory while they follow the therapist’s hand movements with their eyes, and the therapist may also tap alternately on each forearm. Our memories basically get filed into little folders, and sometimes a traumatic memory doesn’t quite get filed away in the proper folder and gets “stuck” on one side of the brain instead of on both sides where memories are supposed to be stored. You have your artistic side of the brain and your intelligent side of the brain, with memories being stored on both sides. This technique files the traumatic event on both sides thus disallowing the memory to have such an impact on a person so they can cope with things easier. So I guess that when “smile,” “think positive,” and “don’t dwell on old shit” doesn’t quite cut it, then it’s EMDR to the rescue.

Aly has been haunting my dreams lately. I don’t remember the particulars but there were two different dreams. In one she didn’t look like herself and was considerably bigger than me, even though I knew it was her.

In another dream, she commented and “liked” something of mine on some site (I don’t know which) and so did Kim. I was delighted that they had reached out to me in a kind way and I looked for something on their pages to “like” in return.

In real life, a part of me misses Aly. Why, though? Why? She was nothing but a phony liar. Yes, I was overly brash, blunt and brutally honest with her. Some people just don’t want to know what you’re thinking if it’s not something they’re going to like or agree with, and she was one of them. But that’s just the thing; I was honest with her while she bullshitted me left and right. Having learned my lesson on how forgiving people often backfires, I hope I will be smart enough to ignore her if she ever contacts me, and the same goes for Andy and anyone else in my past.

Now that I have this sculpting clay and all these tools here, I may as well go YouTube hunting for demonstrations on what the tools are best used for.

Later…

So I go through one of Kim’s fan sites out of curiosity (never contacting either one of them), and find Aly’s latest and obvious account. IDK, I guess the dream has caused her to be on my mind. Although I know it’s silly, pointless, stupid, immature and all things negative, I still miss the little liar at times and a part of me wishes she’d contact me, knowing I’d be dumb enough to accept her back into my life, if only with a lot more caution on my part (I doubt she’d ever contact me, though).

Yes, she’s clingy, she puts guilt trips on you if you don’t practically smother her, and yes, she’s a true liar at heart with poor taste in friends and no ability to handle the truth from others if it’s not what she likes/agrees with. But she was smart and we had some good talks.

I went through her 120 tweets, both to see what was up and to see if I was mentioned. Well, when I saw “Had a couple of strange dreams overnight. One that has me fearing for someone I shouldn’t be” posted on the 15th, I wondered if she was referring to me.

This tweet, however, was obvious. “Sometimes I think about a former friend. Wonder what she’s up to. But wondering is all I’ll do.”

So as cold as she was by dumping me, she’s thinking of me, too.

I KNOW her and I KNOW some of the tweets about being misunderstood and feeling ignored were aimed at Kim. She would always tell me how selfish Kim seemed and how much she lacked empathy. Part of me has been hoping Kim would dump her to give her a taste of her own medicine. Kim is the only “real” friend she has left. But Kim doesn’t tell her the truth, something Aly can’t deal with, so Aly wouldn’t dump her, though you never know with Kim. As soon as I called Kim out on the “anonymous” insults on Ask, I got dumped. If Aly ever gets fed up enough with the lies and phoniness, Kim will dump her too.

Then there’s the usual, “Don’t want to bring anyone down so I’ll suffer in silence” shit that really means she wants attention or else she wouldn’t have publicly tweeted such a statement.

Again, I still have mixed emotions concerning her as much as I wish I could say I was 100% totally over her. Someday, though. It’s only been a few months.

MONDAY, JUNE 20, 2016 Bombed the house on this hot, dry day and saw Stacey during the two hours we had to be out of the house. Well, we only saw her for an hour or so, but it took a half-hour to get to Rocklin, and then we stopped at a drive-thru.

Stacey’s going to be doing EMDR therapy on me beginning on July 7th, which can take up to 8 sessions. When today’s session started I updated her on what’s been going on since I last saw her in January. I told her about the heatstroke on vacation, the lightheadedness I’ve been experiencing since April, the attempt to go back on statins, plans for a retrial, the anxiety that’s returned, etc. I haven’t, however, had much anxiety for a few days now. It’s only when the lightheadedness gets real bad that I start getting anxious, and then eventually depressed.

I’m just panicking too often lately. All I do is worry. I suffer or I worry that I’m going to suffer, and this is no way to live. I’m just tired of feeling like a first-class “mental case,” as I told Tom. Tom, who seems totally unbreakable. He assures me, though, that anyone can be traumatized, even him. I hope to hell he never is, but if God forbid he ever is, I’m sure he’d handle it a lot better than I’ve handled my own trauma. I feel like a wimp, even though I know I shouldn’t.

So Stacey wants to see how I do with EMDR sessions; to help lessen the negative effects of two years ago. I still would’ve had the perimenopause symptoms, for example, but she suspects that because my brain may not have processed the event, it has led me to have more anxiety than I might have otherwise had over the last two years, making even ordinary things harder to cope with. I don’t know much about it yet. She said something about blinking and tapping to process the memory on both sides of the brain. You use one half of the brain for creativity and the other half for things like processing math problems and stuff like that. Memories, however, are typically processed on both sides of the brain. My memory of that traumatic day is apparently stuck on just one side. This is a technique that’s been used on those in combat as well as others suffering PTSD after experiencing something traumatic.

So telling myself to just “smile” and “think positive” isn’t always cutting it for me. Believe me, I’d love to be able to relax and do just that and live with less fear, worries and anxiety. But it hasn’t been that simple. EMDR will hopefully turn 7/9/14 into what it is… just a memory, instead of something that negatively impacts much of my life. Too bad brains don’t come with delete buttons! Life would be so much simpler that way.

As I told her, I don’t know what to think anymore. I don’t know what I believe. Is there something up there punishing me? Something about this house? Or is it just random? Tom and Stacey think it’s just random, and I guess they’re probably right. If we all lived the same lives with the same experiences, that would suggest some sense of order, but since some people have better lives than I’ve had while others have worse, it suggests randomness.

Jackie (across the street) moved today and my fingers are crossed that we’re in for people as quiet and as respectful as the women that recently moved in next to them. Really, REALLY hope they don’t have a motorcycle, are company junkies or are obsessed with doing all kinds of outdoor projects! Time will tell. I’m definitely not as worried as I would be if we weren’t in a retirement community. Fido isn’t going to be outdoors 24/7 and barking up a storm every time they go out so that much is good. Sure wish this could be my biggest concern right now. Yeah, some of my old problems, like worrying about neighbors, really seem like nothing nowadays.

For now… goodbye Jackie and good luck. We never met, but you were a good neighbor who was only “noisy” when you had workers clean up the water damage caused by your old hot water tank.

Was thinking of deactivating my Google+ account since I never use it, but haven’t decided. I just have no use for it and it’s a rather annoying and complicated thing to use anyway. My Blogger entries auto-post there, but that’s not necessary.

Ordered some stuff on Amazon, including toothpaste like Restore (which they no longer sell) that’s supposed to help close up cavities. Restore was great. I never should’ve stopped using it, but we were pretty broke back when I was first told about it. It was even better than what the dentist gives me and it’s a bit cheaper, too. It’s called Squigle Tooth Builder and it has great reviews.

I also decided to bring back a little of my old artistic side that went dormant the more technical I became over the years. I was into singing, musical instruments, dancing, painting, and drawing before I got hot and heavy into computers, writing and languages. I’ve always been into writing and languages; just not like I have been since the 90s. So I got some sculpting clay and tools.

Got a couple of cute pairs of leggings too, though I don’t know if they’ll fit. If they don’t, I can always return them. One is pink shiny “mermaid scales.” The other has jellybeans printed on them.

I also got a set of light blue Egyptian cotton sheets. I’ve heard good things about those types of sheets and always wanted to try them. So we’ll have that, plus the plum flannel sheets I just got. Anything but that thin crappy microfiber, and jersey material that shrinks like crazy.

Was thinking of going in for CampNano in July but I don’t know that I can focus on that right now. The book I’ve been working on since April probably would’ve been done by now if I didn’t have so much going on, so I don’t know that I’ll even finish that. It’s too bad too, because the story was coming along well.

The light on my toilet, even after changing the batteries, is staying on and we can’t figure out why. It still flushes, though. Tom emailed American Standard and asked why.

SUNDAY, JUNE 19, 2016 Starting this entry off with my glittery rainbow nails. This is by a brand called Diva and is also for little girls or those of us who are all grown up with little girlie-size nails. They were just as simple to stick on and they hold on well. This rainbow is in soft pastel shades of lime, lemon, pink and sky blue. I absolutely LOVE these things. I just have to remember not to rake my fingers through my hair or else the hairs will snag on the backs of the nails.

Went to Walgreens this morning and got the rainbow nails, along with another colorful set of theirs, plus a set from a brand called Impress. This set doesn’t all look the same. It has some plain turquoise nails, some white nails with zigzags of turquoise and gold glitter, and some with just gold glitter. Plus I still have the rainbow zebra set by Little Fingr’s.

I also grabbed a pair of black leggings that finally fit great and I love the super soft material. Gonna run out later while I’m still feeling good for a couple more pairs.

So glad I have been working out like I have as I have this little black spaghetti-strapped dress that was a bit snug in the waist. Well, not anymore, thanks to my dedicated efforts! Planking just 20 seconds a day really goes a long way. Plus I have my cardio and strength training. As for yoga… forget it. I tried and tried but just can’t get into it. It’s just not me.

Anyway, this is the best I’ve felt in a while as short-lived as I know it’s going to be. I felt like utter shit for most of yesterday and the morning started off shitty, too. So much so that I became depressed. They kinda go hand in hand, you know? If you feel like shit physically, you feel like shit mentally.

When I first woke up, I just did NOT want to get up and face the dizziness. But sure enough, not only were the dizzies on, but so was the headache. What is it with all these headaches lately? Tom asked if I was still taking my allergy spray. Yeah, I started back up on it cuz I was getting a little sneezy.

I moved slowly around Walgreens and noticed I began to feel better. Then when we got home, before the bastards could turn our water off again like they did yesterday, Tom dyed my hair. He did a great job. My hair looks the best it’s looked in ages. I’m a brunette again with a hint of deep red. It’s medium golden brown foaming dye by John Frieda.

Later…

Signing in again 98% dizzy-free! I love it! Sadly, though, I can’t believe I’ll stay this way for long. Not gonna work out till the end of my day in case that brings on the dizzies.

The only thing pointing away from our peri theory is how Charlotte said she went through the same thing for a year and never knew why. Well, she certainly wasn’t going through perimenopause. She’s only in her 20s.

Ran back out to Walgreens. By then there were more people, including the standard screaming brat. But I got a couple more pairs of those awesome leggings! They’re all size L-XXL and fit great. So now I have black, pinkish-orange, and mint green.

Last night I dreamed I was staying with Aly. Ugh. How many more years am I going to dream of that liar? The “friend” I could use through all this turmoil when Tom’s not around. She may’ve been clingy and she may’ve put guilt trips on me, but at least she never got fed up with my drama as Tammy seems to have despite rarely having any positive news of her own to report. But hey, that’s why I keep the blog she reads generic.

Anyway, in the dream, Aly was working graves. I sat on a chair in a small room waiting for her to return. I guess I couldn’t go to bed till she got in, or something. I had no lights on in the room and seemed to be the only one in the house. Moonlight or the streetlight shone through a glass door. Finally, I realized it was pointless to just sit there in the chair doing nothing, so I got up intending to color or do some word find puzzles.

I went into a bedroom (a guest room? Her room?) to get what I needed, but couldn’t find a light switch in the dark. My hand ran along the walls only to find no switches of any kind. Finally, I pulled a string in the center of the room with a red feather at the end of it, but that only turned on the ceiling fan. I figured that was ok since I tend to overheat in my sleep.

Then a large orange cat jumped up onto the bed and started swatting at the feather. I tried to discourage it, not wanting it to damage anything, but gave up after a few useless minutes of trying.

SATURDAY, JUNE 18, 2016 Up and ready for another day in dizzy mode, though I expect less anxiety since Tom will be home. No calls about the ultrasound. So everything’s ok? That would be my guess.

Anyway, I felt like such shit in the early morning hours yesterday that it was almost scary. I called Tom once. It eased up as the day progressed. Trying not to think of how many years this may go on and just learn to accept that I just have to live with it, just like I had to learn to live with regular ear pain.

Last night was the first night I slept without lorazepam so we’ll see how long I can go without it. I’ll probably take it the night before I see Stacey, though, so I have a better chance of being well-rested.

Twitter stopped playing their locking games once I got on them about it.

The dream about the old lady in Texas did mean something, as expected. She had an attack that screwed up her vision even more. She can’t even read. She has her daughter do it for her, but she’s out of the country right now, and some volunteer was helping her that got into her account and apparently did some things she wasn’t too thrilled with.

Decided to switch back to a non-electric toothbrush. I realized that the bulk of my cavity issues began when I went electric in the late 90s. Well, if I’ve got soft enamel, wouldn’t it make sense that electric toothbrushes would wear down the enamel easier? Guess we’ll find out soon enough. I know I’ve got something going on in front, though, near where my crown is.

I had a dream Tom and I were on a ship and he wanted to go watch a circus that was performing in the ship’s “auditorium.” Tired and not feeling well, I told him to go on ahead by himself and I went back to our stateroom.

But then it seemed like that room became where we lived. Nice soft recessed lighting was overhead, and I thought how most modern places had speakers in the ceilings as I listened to whatever was playing at the moment. I was also trying to fix something but I’m not sure what it was.

FRIDAY, JUNE 17, 2016 I feel like such shit that I have to do this entry from bed. The persistent dizziness is interfering more and more with my daily life and I can no longer enjoy the things I normally do nearly as much as I used to. I get up, I have a few good hours, and then I spend the rest of my day dizzy. I’m going to have to decide… do I want to live my life in a dizzy state, or do I want to just end it all? Honestly, I don’t think I can stand this much longer. I feel so sickly and unhealthy for someone who is supposedly not, and I really feel like never before that I’m never going to get better. First it was anxiety making me panic and feel like shit and now it’s the dizziness making me panic and feel like shit.

The tapping still helps but not as much as it used to. I feel just awful. I’m constantly dizzy, my legs feel weak, my hands feel jittery, I feel warm, I feel cold, I feel downright SHITTY. I can’t even finish my book, and I don’t know that I’ll be up for CampNano, even at just 10K words. It’s really affecting my ability to live my life and to do things. I want to take up sculpting and get some clay and supplies, but like I’d have the energy or feel well enough to concentrate on that?

The night before last I got up at around 11 p.m. and I felt like shit pretty much until after I met with the vas tech for my carotid ultrasound. I had quite a “bipolar” day. Crying one minute, perky the next. The good thing is that he did say that he didn’t see anything for my doctor to get too excited over, though he could not discuss the particulars with me. What I’m not sure is good is the fact that they called in the evening. I was already asleep.

I asked the guy if nothing bad turned up with the ultrasound, would that mean the dizziness was nothing dangerous. He said not necessarily, but that the ultrasound was a big thing.

I went to bed at around 2 p.m. and at 8 p.m. there was a power failure that lasted for about 20 minutes at which time I got up and took couple of ibuprofen for my ear, which isn’t aching today for the first time in days. I was really hoping that oiling it daily would reduce the dizziness, but we’re both still thinking it’s perimenopause-related. The question is how many months, or years, am I going to have to suffer??? And when this is finally resolved, what will my next problem be? I have done nothing but suffer for the last two years and I’m so sick of it that I’m thinking more and more of ending it all. I just want my life back, just like that woman said in her post, and if I can’t have it back then what’s the point of living? I can hardly do anything anymore. I can, but it’s a struggle and I have to take constant breaks and I have to improvise some things. It’s very frustrating and scary. Do other women really have it THIS bad? I wonder. Or could there be something up there punishing me for who knows what? Due to the fact that I have one long-term problem after another, I have always wondered and if I’m destined to always live like this; suffering one thing after another. One thing I have learned is that the medical stuff is always the worst. How I miss the days when achy teeth and ears were my worst problems along with restless/noisy neighbors.

Bob’s been working around his place the last couple of days, though he hasn’t been noisy. Still, it’s not fair! Here’s this 86-year-old guy with endless energy while I sit in here dizzy, fatigued, depressed, anxious, worried and feeling totally helpless and hopeless. It’s with envy that I saw someone jogging by. I want to go out walking. I want to Bowflex. I want to focus on my story, but it’s a struggle just to bitch and whine in my journal as it is. Tom says there’s nothing dangerous going on with me and that I’m going to get better, but when? When????

I also feel like I have to take a dump a lot when I don’t have to. I realize part of these symptoms is anxiety. Maybe that means the statins didn’t do anything to me after all, though that 135 beat down makes me wonder.

I really hope Stacy has more tricks up her sleeve, because I don’t know that Doc A is going to do much for me. It’s like she doesn’t believe me. I think she thinks all my anxiety is just my phobia of medication. In that case, I’m not going to get her to help me and I might have to see someone else. But will they believe me? Sometimes I wonder if anybody can help me.

When we returned yesterday I actually perked up and had more energy and felt better emotionally even though there was still an underlying sense of dizziness. It just wasn’t as intense. But now it sure is.

The weather has been unusually cold. Yesterday morning was the first time we had to run the heat in the month of June to take the chill out.

Anyway, the ultrasound didn’t take long. What I saw on the monitor made no sense to me, though after looking up a video on YouTube, I learned some things. It made these weird sounds at times like PSHOO! PSHOO! PSHOO!

After we left the building we went to Raley’s where we picked up some groceries and I also found these really cool stick-on designer nails for girls. Because I have small fingers they’re perfect. Grabbed some Always a Flirti nail polish by Nicole too, which is like a frosty red color.

Picked up some ginger ale hoping it would help with the dizziness, because various forms of ginger are recommended, from what I read online, but it hasn’t helped much if at all.

For now, I’m trying to do “easy” things and not worry about the tougher things like book writing that isn’t necessary. So I pulled out some of the old Word Search magazines I’d get in Phoenix and thought I’d do some of them before they disintegrate.

Now that it took me nearly an hour just to write this entry, I’m going to go relax.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 15, 2016 Happy 22nd anniversary to us! Now if only I felt better. Found a post in a forum describing similar symptoms as mine and they were saying how much they want their life back.

Yeah, I want mine back, too! This sucks. This totally sucks. I know the ultrasound is going to come back normal and I’ll probably be told that I’m anxious no matter how much I insist this is NOT normal for me. I’ve been this way since early April, from what I could tell looking back in this journal.

I felt like such shit yesterday morning that I almost had Tom come home from work. Every day is still a struggle and I have to do things in spurts.

They have three seasons of The Bates Motel on Netflix and I just started watching that. It’s really good so far.

My dark purple flannel sheets and new pillow arrived yesterday, though the pillow is exactly like the last one I got; it’s just a little longer.

We got Cappy a wheel but the bastard won’t use it.

Was thinking of going for CampNano in July where you set your own word count goal (I chose just 10K since I’m often lightheaded and lacking energy), but I don’t know if I can even finish Shane.

Soon I’ll get into bed and try, speaking into my phone into an email draft.

Had a dream I was talking to Andy. I don’t remember what was said; just that he was the one to contact me. Oh, I won’t talk to him if he does. Or to Alison. They blew it for good. Same for Nane and Maliheh, but they’d be the last ones I’d ever hear from.

Then I skipped something called “motto class,” and was given a pass called a “day or daymorrow” by a huge lady in a shiny pink dress. It was a weird one alright. It’s like I was living in some dormitory and I had all these classes. Only I was too beat to go to “motto” class so I skipped it.

TUESDAY, JUNE 14, 2016 Just had to chase two woodpeckers off that were beating on the patio roof. I hear squirrels running around out there now.

I am also feeling totally overwhelmed, totally helpless, and totally ready to give up on my health and my life completely. I fear I’m never going to get better. I don’t know if it’s perimenopause, anxiety, or something going on with my heart/arteries, but every single fucking day I’m lightheaded. I’m dealing with that and fatigue more than anxiety these days.

My ear was bugging me, then it got better, and now it’s bugging me again. Could that be connected to the lightheadedness? Tom doesn’t think so cuz ear-related things usually give you the sensation that the room is spinning and I don’t have that.

I’m just so frustrated I want to beat my head in the wall!

MONDAY, JUNE 13, 2016 Trying to do yoga just now is a sad reality as to just how fat and old and out of shape I’ve gotten. I’m still in shape for things like cardio and strength training, but my joints and flexibility have really gone to hell. I am really starting to feel the effects of my age, something I had hoped not to feel until I was over 65. Instead, I’m feeling old and even sickly. The anxiety has been minimal since I’ve been up, but I’ve had a lot of lightheadedness and some fatigue. I now try to get things done as early in the day as I can because I know I’m going to lose the energy to do much.

I’m sitting here in tears now totally fearing I will never get better no matter how sure Tom is that I will. A part of me wishes they would find something wrong with the ultrasound and tell me that that’s the cause of my lightheadedness and say they can fix it easily enough. But with what? More drugs that I’m going to have a bad reaction to? I feel like I’m stuck in a total no-win situation. I have to choose the lesser suffering. Do I choose to suffer from whatever ails me, or do I suffer the effects of the medication they give me to treat it?

I had the runs last night and I started to feel a spark of hope that it wasn’t the statins after all, but with the statins, I didn’t actually have the runs, I just had to go a lot. It was also for more than one day. The chicken I made smelled a little funny so maybe it was that. Either way, there’s still the beat down I had which is the biggest sign saying that a retrial of the statins won’t work. I really, really hope to hell it does work, but I have my doubts. That’s still almost a month away, however.

I just miss the old me. I miss not having the types of fears and concerns that I have now. The fact that I felt better for most of the night reflects on how much more I was able to get done. I wrote three pages of my story and did other things, but I’m still not right. The person who looked so forward to spending most of her time alone without fear is gone. And so is the person whose worst problem was usually hoping it wasn’t too noisy that day.

When I’m in a good mood and feeling well I tend to run around a lot, and sometimes my body sort of tenses and vibrates with positive energy if that makes any sense. I’ve felt this way less often lately. My mind hasn’t wandered to other subjects as much as it should and usually does. The more I think about anything other than my health concerns, the better I’m doing. But I dwell on my health and simply don’t have the pep I usually have.

The only thing I don’t have now on a regular basis that I had in the past is the beat downs (assuming the statins don’t bring those back), but when I was suffering hardcore anxiety, I didn’t have the fatigue and lightheadedness. The kick-ass anxiety was by far the worst symptom, but feeling like shit is still feeling like shit. The butterflies feel worse, but there are ways to kill them. I haven’t figured out what to do yet for the fatigue and lightheadedness. For now, I sit and wonder… can perimenopause really do ALL this for this long?

As tough as yoga is, I realize I really need to just do the best I can and move my hips, spine, neck and shoulders more often. Especially the hips. The fat will hinder some of my flexibility, but I think I can loosen things up a bit more if I add yoga to my exercise regimen. Different exercises do different things after all.

Later…

Ear got better but is acting up again, so I just oiled it.

Woke up the calmest I have in a week, but then felt faint underlying traces of butterflies. My first thought was that it was a good sign pointing away from the statins, but maybe this is WHY the statins made me feel as they did. I think that no matter what, Doc A is always going to blame 100% of my problems on my medication phobia when in fact that’s just a part of it.

Really hope to hell the retrial works out. Oh, how I want it to! But I honestly don’t see much indication to suggest it will, even with Tom home. Still gonna hope for the best, though.

Was sickened and saddened by the news of some psycho killing 50 people at a gay club in Orlando.

Just think… some hater could’ve come into the Pub or the Frontier in Springfield when Andy and I would go, and gun us all down with an assault rifle.

I don’t know why, but Sarah’s selfies, which are becoming more constant and similar in appearance, really annoy the hell outa me. So, so conceited. Is approval from others really that important to her?

Finished watching Psychic Detectives (wow, if it’s for real), couldn’t get into Aquarius, so I watched a documentary on the world’s most dangerous places. I need to find another series to watch; preferably that doesn’t have just one season.

I’m glad modern shows don’t focus so much on childbirth and child abuse, as that got really old and sad. Today it’s more about political correctness. Gee, what a surprise.

I guess my HR doesn’t have to be in the 60s for good sleep after all. I took a lorazepam after being up 17 hours, then I slept 7 hours without waking up much, yet my HR was in the 70s, 80s and even the 90s. Only once did it hit 69 and it wasn’t for long.

SUNDAY, JUNE 12, 2016 Fell asleep without lorazepam and again I couldn’t stay asleep. HR stayed in the 70s till I took a lorazepam a few hours later and could then get into a deep enough sleep in the 60s.

Although I managed a quick bike ride and a trip to the Walmart we used to go to when we lived in Auburn (ours isn’t open 24 hrs.), I felt like shit most of the day. Goes to prove that while Tom’s presence helps, especially if things turn scary like with killer racy HRs, he can’t make it all go away. I still have the butterflies, fatigue and lightheadedness.

I’m totally losing hope of ever getting better for good. Those pre-Citrus Heights days are gone forever. :( So, so depressing. Sometimes I wonder if I should just kill myself.

I just downed 1.5 chicken wings. Mood’s stable but not normal. What I mean by “normal” is the pre-park days. Lightheadedness and fatigue haven’t set in yet. That seems to happen later in my day. I swear I’d rather go back to being pissed at the whole world if I had to have any negative feelings at all! Worrying about an external source is always easier than when it’s internal and has no end in sight. I get breaks, but no permanent relief and I’m beginning to fear I never will. It’s been 2 long years now. When I said over a year ago, “This is the new me,” I think I was right. This is me now, and I either have to live with this internal torture or end it all completely and hope for the best as far as any possible afterlife goes.

Noisy neighbors, hoping traffic doesn’t wake me up, earaches, toothaches, allergies… how I wish to hell those were my worst concerns! But what if there is a God up there who hates me and plans to make life progressively worse and worse for me? What if my life “peaked” in the Oregon house, that was the best it was going to get, and from here on out it’s just going to get worse and worse? What if I do have a stroke and end up half-paralyzed like my grandmother was?

My moods simply don’t match my life. I have a beautiful house and everything I need and most of what I want. So then I fall apart? WTF? Being anxious doesn’t go with my life, and I wish I could be as sure as Tom is that this is just the perimenopause talking and that it’ll eventually back off for good, but there are no guarantees. The not knowing for sure compounds the misery.

I even had a headache yesterday that was hard to kill and that I rarely get, and my eyes are noticeably worse. I hope the pressure isn’t up! We plan to get eye exams and new glasses during his vacation.

Although it’s a ways off yet I really hope the statin retrial works. I really want it to, but again, there are things that suggest it will while there are things that suggest it won’t.

God damn, do I wish he could be home for 2.5 years like when the economy collapsed! I just don’t look forward to my alone time anymore; a great thing if he were retiring, but he’s still got many years to go and we don’t even know for sure that he’ll retire at 66. Might need to work till he’s 70. In that case, you’re talking over a decade.

He has to work on our anniversary but will be off the next day to cart me to the ultrasound.

I try to think positive thoughts and imagine there are a few people around, but my games don’t always cut it, cuz again, adults just can’t see pretend games through the more convincing and imaginative eyes of a child. I just want to be happy! Carefree. Full of energy. Able to enjoy my hobbies and what I’ve got going for me.

Instead, I know that any second, I will be too lightheaded or fatigued to do much of anything but lay around depressed about it. Better try to get some work done on my story, though, and see if I can finally focus on that before I lose the energy.

First, I dreamed of meeting with Becky from VH only she was skinny unlike in real life. She’s bigger than me.

Then I was sitting on a couch in our “home” with the laptop looking at some survey about food. A female voice listed off names of foods and I muted her. Then Tom appeared to step out from a room from a hallway that appeared both shorter and wider than ours. He cleared his throat and I glanced at him. He wore a strange black robe that was wide at the hem and at the end of the long sleeves. He asked if I was hungry.

Then there was some strange dream about a black woman raping me and later laying in bed looking up at a strange tube of dust and thinking how I should do some serious cleaning.

FRIDAY, JUNE 10, 2016 Woke up feeling the most refreshed and the least anxious in days. Just a touch of “butterflies” early on. Enjoying it while it lasts. Tom is 100% sure and guarantees this will end someday. It better! It’s the most horrible thing I ever endured physically and emotionally. Honestly, I don’t know how many more years of this shit I can take.

He got the days off he wanted, so he’ll be off from July 2-10 using only 4 of his days off. This means that if I can get past the second dose, I will take 5 doses during this time, probably on odd days.

Figuring it was the right thing to do, but knowing they wouldn’t actually call to cry about their “wonderful” daddy, I gave Sarah and Becky my number. As expected, I got a “thank you” from Becky and nothing from Sarah. If people don’t appreciate me in their lives, then why don’t they unfriend me? It could be her grieving and nothing personal, but really, if you don’t want to stay in touch, just dump me. I think I’m pretty used to it by now. I just hope she’s not staying connected out of a sense of duty or anything like that. But the best remedy for those you don’t hear from (unless you ask them a question or something) is for them not to hear from you.

Instead of a simple “thanks,” Sarah’s plastering more and more of the same selfies while her beloved daddy’s dying, and yes, I know this sounds wicked judgmental (that’s part of why I switched to private writing), but it’s a true sign of narcissism. It could also be a low self-image thing, from what I read, where she’s fishing for compliments. She does get them, though I’ve stopped the compliments only because they all look the same after a while and I’m not hearing much in return from her. I hate one-sided relationships of ANY kind.

I reconnected with my top PB besties but haven’t heard from the old lady. Funny too, since I recently had a bad dream about her. Either way, I didn’t feel right about abandoning them for no good reason.

The back light is out. I jumped and waved and it never saw me. Made my 2 rounds around the circle and did my 15 minutes of Bowflexing and 15 seconds of planking (any more hurts my back and abs).

You can’t leave the Bluetooth speaker on, so I learned. After a while, it beeps like a busy signal on a phone.

Later…

Sarah did “like” a post of mine after all where I claim to plan to be too busy to check in much this summer (made visible only to her), so please email or call if anyone needs me. Did she like the part about me not being around? Or the offer to email/call?

Decided I needed a new “game” of sorts to help distract me from my anxiety whenever I start to feel wound up or a little down. For the longest time, I’ve wished I could get into role-playing, but unless I were ever as crazy as Kim, I’m just too old to play pretend games. I’d love to be able to play “make-believe” in the way that I could as a child. As a child, we’re not only quicker to believe what others tell us, but what we tell ourselves as well. With age, however, we tend to lose that brainwashing power. It’s not that I ever believed my pretend games were real or that my imaginary friends weren’t just that… imaginary. But I saw my made-up fun in a whole different light than I could ever see it as an adult.

But interviews… interviews like what Andy would pretend to do as a famous rock star, and what I would sometimes do as well… is a different story. It’s a form of verbal journaling, be it my past, present or future that I may be discussing.

So I chose to do these things when I was lying in bed awaiting sleep. At these times one’s mind tends to wander a bit more and I’m more vulnerable to negative thoughts. Therefore, I pick a person I know or have seen, and pick a random topic to “discuss.” I could talk pet rats with Doc A or languages with Stacey.

As only Tom knows, my talking to pictures was NO pretend game. But it got me rethinking the afterlife again. The pics were the hosts to the entities that dwelled within. But WHO were they? Spirits of the dead? I guess I’ll never know.

I thought I had some dream about winning a vacuum, but I know it doesn’t mean anything.

I also dreamed of riding an electric bike. It went the same slow steady speed of about 5-6 MPH.

Then I felt a lump in my upper right boob in the next dream. I felt that area again a few minutes later and it was gone.

Then Tom and I were sitting in a room by a large window. Andy walked by and waved to us without turning his head. We just laughed at this 70’s hairstyle.

Then I was in our house, which didn’t look like our house as usual (we don’t have a slider), and saw Tom put some recyclables into the regular trash. I told him to stop putting recyclables in there. Then he went out a slider and into a dark chilly morning. A man stood across the street with his hands in his pockets and it seemed like we were in the mainstream.

Then I had some dream about a power outage while sleeping, and peeking into our neighbor’s place, which seemed to be just another room in our “house,” and it didn’t belong to Bob and Virginia. I guess they were about to move, but still had the place set up. Large pictures were on the walls and there was some furniture present, too. Tom told me I should return my barrette to them. I took it out of my hair and placed it on a table by their door.

Later…

Miss Nosy did some more digging into Dr. A. Let’s see… married, no kids (I think), 2.5 stars on Mercy, 3.5 on Yelp, loves to camp, travel, run and bike ride. They all love the same shit, only Dr. O added cooking and gardening, Dr. D playing with the kids.

Well, she’s going in my July CampNano story along with Stacey. Was thinking about the interview game thing and might do something along the lines of that. A wants to learn all she can about someone’s life, for example, cuz she’s involved in a secret medical experiment to see if memories can be altered/destroyed. Then Stacey can rescue her and try to help her figure out which memories are real vs. fake.

I’ve really got to get back on with Shane, though, once I catch up on journaling. Amazing how one who works at home, has no kids, and no real friends can often have so much to say.

Like the fact that I created a document to back up my tweets. I also back them up on my-diary and Prosebox.

Later…

Wanting to understand more of the “logic” American law is based on, I read around a bit. Well, the philosophy is this: Physical wounds heal, but emotional ones don’t. This is why violence isn’t taken nearly as seriously as non-violent crimes and rapists get less time than I got for saying shit no one wanted to hear. A woman can beat the shit out of her BF/husband for cheating and get just days, while thieves get months or even years.

Sorry, but their belief system makes no sense. If you beat someone up; sure their wounds are going to heal, but you mean to tell me they won’t have the memories and be emotionally damaged by the attack as well? If you called me names when I was a kid, of course that would have hurt. Today, I don’t give a shit if some stranger online or on the street calls me fat and ugly. But if they shoot, stab or beat me, that’s going to do a LOT more damage than any nasty words could ever do.

Sometimes I wonder if some of these crazy judges give crazy sentences just to get famous. Getting famous in a good way is like winning the lottery, but getting infamous only takes a second. Just threaten the wrong person online and you’ll be all over the news worldwide, for example. But what a great way for the cock to get famous while remaining within the “law,” huh?

Saw something about witches hexing that rapist who will be serving just 3 months (to lessen the impact on him, said the sick judge). What good will that do? And so what if the American Swimming Association or whatever the hell it’s called banned his membership for life? He can still swim elsewhere. I wish someone would kill him, but if no one killed Casey Anthony, why would anyone kill him? People can only wait till he rapes again and hope that the next time (since rapists can’t stop or be rehabilitated) he’s put away for years if not for good, and raped silly in prison before being killed, thus saving the taxpayers on his food.

Don’t know the details or even what the name is, but someone’s suing Ellen Degeneres for making fun of their name. Now THAT’S a case that may receive some punishment, even against a rich celeb. You know how it is, feelings matter more than the actual damage/crime.

Later…

So I ended up having anxiety when I first got up yesterday, then it backed off from 6-midnight, then returned for about 4 hours till Tom got up. This is the butterfly kind of anxiety. Not the booming heart or anxiety you feel welling up in your chest that’s more associated with when I was on too much levothyroxine.

I wanted to go to bed without lorazepam but felt too wound up and as I’d never get to sleep, so I took it and slept about 9 hours. Fitbit says 8 hours and 26 minutes to be exact.

Sure enough, about an hour after I got up, the butterflies flew outa my adrenaline gland to annoy the fuck out of me till I roasted chickened them away. Had a headache too, and took one ibuprofen. When that didn’t help I took another, even if it meant I might be drowsy.

The emotional tapping isn’t as effective as it was (all good things come to an end while so many bad things don’t), and so much for the power of prayer. There definitely either isn’t a God or it doesn’t give a shit about me. If it did it wouldn’t be letting me suffer so much for so long in the first place.

Again, gotta wonder what I did to deserve this. AND why it keeps coming back. AND when/if it’ll ever stop for good. The not knowing is what’s very hard on me, like when we didn’t know when he’d find work again. He’s totally sure it’s the peri and that it’ll be over someday, and while this makes sense to me (even if A might not believe it), how can I be sure? Yes, it’s hard to believe I’d become this whole different person for no reason just like I tried to explain to C, but what if I’m one of those flukes destined to be tormented till the day I die and no one can ever really help me?

Last night I dreamed I had a job (don’t know what) and I wondered if it would be as easy as I thought it would to just disappear once my schedule prevented me from working.

I also dreamed I was in some place with Andy and Jessie. I’m not sure how many rooms there were, but in the bedroom was one long bed, like a super huge king-size bed, and that’s where we were to sleep that night. The next morning we were to continue on with our travels, be it going home or to wherever we were going next.

The bedroom was off of a large room in which I started to stack a few chairs but then changed my mind. I shuffled some stuff around the bedroom, including a large wad of cash that might’ve been Jessie’s. While I did this I figured I’d have trouble sleeping and would be up listening to music long after they crashed.

THURSDAY, JUNE 9, 2016 Sometimes I wonder if I should drop ALL meds and ALL docs. They’ve made me worse, not better. But the suffering I’m once again doing (mostly anxiety in the solar plexus that I call butterflies, fatigue, dizziness and a few hot flashes) can’t have anything to do with the levothyroxine at this point. At least I don’t think I could have pocket flares that could bring my T4 high enough to make me anxious. Plus, this isn’t the kind of anxiety I’d have on the levothyroxine.

Headaches, toe pain, ear pain, anxiety, depression, beat downs, hot flashes, fatigue, lightheadedness… it never ends. Dark thoughts cloud my mind once again, and once again I wonder how much more I can take. Will I ever get better? I’ve been asking this on and off for nearly two years now.

I went from the freeloaders’ grasp to poverty to this. How sad. And yes, very negative. Sorry, sis, but it’s why I resorted to private blogging. I’m having more bad days than good lately. My bursts of wakefulness and energy are getting scarce. Believe me, I actually miss some of my old/lesser problems. I wish noisy neighbors and landscaping were my worst problems in life.

This definitely can’t be a lingering effect of statins either. I felt horrible yesterday till Tom got up, and borderline from when I got up till just a little while ago. I did sleep better last night too, so I took the opportunity to get some cleaning done and did a 10-minute walk by making two rounds around the circle. The weather was beautiful. When I did it a couple of evenings ago it was cool and windy.

I just miss the old me and I wonder if I’m ever going to have her back again for more than a few weeks or a few months if I’m really lucky. I don’t get it… my life gets better, but I fall apart? I’m tired of feeling as tired as an old lady and I’m sick of feeling like the unhealthy person I’m not.

Dr. A continues to frustrate me and said exactly what we expected her to say; that she thinks hot flashes could be responsible for perimenopause, but believes most of my anxiety is my medication phobia. Oh, come on! Anyone knows that my symptoms are very common for perimenopause, and what about my other phobias? I fear spiders and heights yet they never made me feel the way I felt when I was on higher doses of Levothyroxine and when I took the Statin. It’s just frustrating that no one seems to believe me because how can she really help me and work with me otherwise? I just can’t believe that not one single doctor I’ve seen has mentioned peri.

I can’t blame yesterday on the statins since I’m not on them now. Again, I’ve never been this way before two years ago and this is very uncharacteristic of me. No booming heart yesterday, though, and I still worry the statins may have caused that and the excessive bowel movements. It’s sometimes hard to tell exactly what’s causing what when so many things can mimic the same symptoms. But I know what’s normal for me and some things are just rather obvious. Tom and I both would be willing to bet just about anything that the vast majority of my symptoms are perimenopause and that certain medications can enhance those symptoms.

I can see waiting to test my thyroid and cholesterol in the fall, but why wait till then for the estrogen/hormone tests? I just don’t get that.

Another thing that frustrates me is all the fucking foreign doctors out there whose first language isn’t English. This calls for the patients to have a harder time understanding them due to their accents, and them possibly having a harder time understanding us as well. If I wanted an Ecuadorian doctor, I’d go to Ecuador.

Like Tom said, we’re not locked into these doctors or this Medical Group. Yeah, but like Charlotte said, would getting a different doctor or group really make any difference? I would still prefer older American doctors whose first language is English and who are more likely to understand perimenopause if they’ve gone through it themselves. No wonder someone’s review said Doc A doesn’t do well with older patients. 55-57 would be a good age group for doctors for me. Old enough to understand, but young enough to be my doctor as long as we’re here.

Again, I wonder if I should say “fuck A” and try the estrogen Tammy recommended, but you know me… always afraid to try anything.

Although I still think the statins are going to escalate my anxiety and give me the runs and a booming heart again, I’m willing to give it one final try, but as I told the doctor, this might not be until early July. Tom is going to try to get time off around the holiday, which would give him 9 days off counting weekends, and he would only be taking 4 of his vacation days off. I worry about hogging up too many of his days too fast with all the fucking appointments I’ve got. Or worse, he getting fired and then a low-paying job with an American company that doesn’t give as many days off per year. Sometimes I wonder if something up there led him to this job, knowing it was going to pick on me and that I’d need all kinds of doctors. I just want to be happy! I want the anxiety, fears and worries to just fucking stop! Stress is one thing, anxiety is another. I’d rather worry about things in my mind than feel the physical effects of the anxiety like the butterflies and racy heart.

Worst case scenario I tell the doc that Take-Two failed and ask if there are alternatives to statins. If she remains stubborn with a statin-or-nothing attitude and won’t help me find what’s right for me, then yes, I’ll be done with her. Meanwhile, I highly doubt I’ll die the next day or the day after. I couldn’t get that lucky.

She also recommended getting in to see Stacey and a new psychiatrist since Dr. L left. Even though I don’t see what good that’s going to do me, I made an appointment with the only doctor they had available. Sure enough, it’s male and foreign. Asian this time. I looked up Dr. Chiu to see what he looked like and confirmed my Asian suspicions. Can’t get in till December, though. Stacey, I’ll see in 10 days. Her I’m kind of looking forward to even if it’s more time and money that Tom says not to worry about because she really listens and has been the most helpful so far.

I don’t know what to do for now, though. Do I tap more often? Do I try giving prayer another shot? I hate to say it, but coincidence or not, prayer did seem to keep things going in the OR dump as well as after our motel crisis. Only problem is I don’t know if I believe in God, or that it’s a very good God with all the shit I see going on in this world, along with what I’m going through. It’s hard to believe it would care, but I guess it can’t hurt to try.

I looked in last year’s journal for when I did the Return to Sender spell. Did it on December 30th. Things got worse before they got better. The first week of January was bad, then it got better… until the statin. Can one tiny 10 mg pill really do all that? Probably not all of it, but I still think it did part of it.

Then there’s the rock. That possibly cursed quartzite rock from that possibly cursed land. It may seem silly as hell, but just in case unpacking it and handling had a hand in making me worse, it’s sitting out in the trash now.

I can’t help but ask… why is this happening to me so severely? Why do some women make the transition so easily while I get to sit and suffer big time? I feel so cursed, but then I think how lucky I am not to be blind or paralyzed or anything like that.

So much for hoping for a shorter, lighter period. It’s a little shorter, but definitely had more kick than the last one.

Tom said he wants to pull my medical records from the thyroid ultrasound done at Sutter cuz he swears there was something there about my arteries looking good. Well, the 16th will tell us if there’s likely to be any imminent danger, and again, I couldn’t get that lucky. Then again, while dying instantly may be “lucky,” I wouldn’t be so lucky if I ended up parlayed on one side like Nana Bella.

As I was telling Tom, as strange as it may seem, the two years we were in the OR dump may not have been perfect, and I hated the climate, but it’s the only place he and I ever lived where our lives weren’t predominately bad in some way.

Phoenix = money and freeloader issues. Maricopa = money and freeloader issues. Duplex = money and neighbor issues. Dump = winning and shopping. Trailer = money and mutt issues. Here = terror, terror, terror!

And the next state? Really, I hate to think that those two years could’ve been our “best” years despite not having shit. That place was a total dump and we had shit for furniture. I had yet to know what real insecurity was. I could read without prescription glasses. I wasn’t as fat. I had no concept of the true meaning of the word anxiety.

More to write about, but not enough energy. I’ll just end this entry by saying that I “did the right thing” by giving my nieces my number in case they ever want to call and chat. But I’m SO glad to know I’m the last person they’d call to cry about their wonderful little daddy! Again, I’m sorry for them. Being in your 20s is awfully young to lose a parent. But I hate the guy with just as much of a passion as I did in 2000.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 8, 2016 Heard from Tammy who’s in pain and expecting more surgery next Monday. So much for her own positive attitude, but there is some good news… the guy who helped cost me my freedom and us thousands of dollars is now in the hospice. Yay for us, boo for the girls. At least I would think Tammy’s “yaying” and Lisa’s not “booing.” IDK, though, cuz I once saw a pic of her and Bill, arm in arm at some kind of family function, smiling happily at each other, and did a real WTF? I would think Lisa’s more right in the head than she was in 2009 or 2010 or whenever it was that she went ballistic on me, but who knows? Many victims of abuse still worship their abusers, and I even wondered if Tammy was still in love with the bastard when the unwanted subject of him came up in Florida.

I told Tom I hoped to hell his theory of those in the afterlife not being able to affect the living is correct, cuz he’d shit on me every chance he got if he could. Tom doesn’t think he can do anything when you consider how many assholes out there have it well, and how many good people are suffering. This is part of what makes me unsure if there is a God. Besides, if they could influence us, wouldn’t my parents have seen to it that we won big bucks? Well, we didn’t win the smart home in NC or else they’d have ambushed us with the news by now.

So much more I want to write about, but I slept like shit and so I feel like shit. I only slept 6.5 hours and am VERY fatigued and dizzy. Got enough of a period to need to take something for the cramps too, but I’m hoping it will be shorter and lighter like the last one. Hopefully, I won’t have to spend nearly 3 weeks waterlogged before the next one either.

It’s just so fucking frustrating cuz it never ends. I have a few good days here and there and that’s it. I have shit for energy most days where I used to have an overabundance of it. It sucks. It really does. I want to write, I want to take my Italian lesson, I want to work on my story, I want to start some ideas I had, but I just don’t have the energy. Gotta go lay down now. Maybe later I can write more.

Later…

At the risk of sounding as negative as Tammy pointed out… I’m not only fatigued as hell and dizzy (my right ear rang for a minute and I had a huge head rush earlier in the shower) but depressed as well. I cried a bit and wished Tom were up, but was glad he wasn’t so I wouldn’t depress him, too.

I’m just sick of suffering most days and feeling like an unhealthy person who really isn’t. In the past when I’d be shorted on sleep and a bit tired, I’d still be able to get more done than I have today, and I’d even be pissed cuz I’d usually perk up at the end of my day. Only now I’m so fatigued that I feel drugged. I miss my energy! I’m still afraid I’m never going to get better. It’s like sinking into this quicksand you can’t pull yourself out of.

Tom was right… people are either overly sympathetic or they complain that you complain. That’s why I stopped public blogging. I don’t need either one of those things yet I got the same thing when I broke my arm; I either got smothered or turned against. Why is everyone so black and white? But society’s warped attitude isn’t my problem. I’m my problem. And I feel like I’m never going to be able to fix it.

I’m pissed that the doc has blown me off. I feel like she’s not being helpful enough, but when she does do something to help it backfires on me. :( Why can’t I just take whatever pills they recommend and be ok? I am so fucking frustrated that I wonder if I’m going to eventually lose my will to even live. I’m just not a strong person.

I fear that she’ll never believe me no matter how much I try to tell her that extreme anxiety is NOT normal for me and I don’t think it was all just me manifesting the side effects through my fears. I fear spiders and heights, yet still don’t react that way. In my most stressful times in life, I never reacted that way. So why now???

I still want the option of going back to visit Hawaii someday from here or to sail/fly to Jamaica from Florida if we move there, yet none of that will be possible if I feel this bad this often. I’m not having a few bad days anymore. I’m having a few good days. :(

I still like the idea (I think) of moving near family, but then again, what could they do if something went wrong? Tammy’s got her own problems, I don’t know that I trust Becky and Sarah, (especially Sarah), and Lisa wants nothing to do with me.

I think of some aspects of the past and miss them. I didn’t know as much then as I do now, but I also didn’t know what it was like to have scary beat downs and I miss those days. Those young, carefree, adventurous days where my worst crisis was usually a kick-ass sneezing fit. Ugh, gonna cry again. :( Maybe it’s time to tap for depression?

Later…

Well, I did perk up a bit after some tapping, coffee and food, but we’ll see how long it lasts.

I asked Tammy, but she doesn’t know how old Mom was when her periods stopped. This period is still lighter overall in that I haven’t needed a big pad, but who knows what tomorrow may bring? Hard to believe it’ll pick up at this point, though.

If there’s anything good to her marriage with the little weasel not working out (and I told her this) it’s that if it had, she would be about to become a widow and she’s not even 60.

I’d like to think Bill’s suffering, but what’s sad is that unlike what we’ll have, he has this really great support system. If I really did die before Tom, whom would he have? No one? A bunch of strangers who don’t feel anything for him?

Tom said that he sees things differently than I do, and it’s true. He does. He said that even if he got cancer right now, suffered and then died in 5 years, it’s still a small percentage of his life. I totally see his point, but that 5 years may seem like a lifetime. The more we suffer, the more time slows to a crawl. It sure does for me anyway.

I just wish I could stop worrying about an end that’s not here yet. Until something actually happens to one of us other than me feeling like shit, why worry? But I do. All the fucking time. What if, for example, we’re both “destined” to live to 85? Well, that would mean I’d still have 8 years to go after he died. No way. Just no fucking way. Not only would I not be able to fend for myself, but even if I could, I couldn’t live with the horrible, horrible depression of knowing I’d never see him again.

And then there’s the suicide issue. What if I don’t have the guts to go through with it or I fuck it up? If I’m afraid to take something I’m pretty sure won’t kill me, then how could I take/do something I was sure would kill me? So if I couldn’t kill myself, but I couldn’t live, where would that leave me? Forced to commit a crime so I could at least have a prison house/feed me? And maybe give me medication I needed that I could actually stand to take? I would have to do it right cuz I couldn’t stand the depression of not having Tom no matter where I lived.

Later…

Another lie. Yeah, I happened to glance at the list of new users on Prosebox and thought a certain one sounded like something she would pick. Does she want to be obvious? I clicked on the name, and sure enough, I was blocked. So much for “severing” those ties, huh? I knew damn well she/they’d be back sooner or later.

I asked Tom if he thought the constant creating and deleting of accounts meant they were up to no good. He said it could be the case, or they at least think they’re doing something wrong. Whatever the reason, I’m SICK to death of them playing victim over there. So not wanting to be public anymore anyway, I deleted that account and disappeared in the night. Now they can only play their blocking games on Google and Facebook. Pretty sure they don’t use LiveJournal, and my-diary has no blocking. Also, if they do block me on other sites, I won’t know it.

I created another account in a bogus name. I casually scanned the room and my eyes rested on a doll called Peyton. So Peyton I am, with a close-up of a golden retriever for a profile pic. No age, gender or bio info is visible on me, though the gender should be obvious. Most people who keep a journal/diary are female anyway.

What was surprising was that after resurrecting my old Twitter account long enough to mention SaltyAlty and call out an account of Kim’s, which I even tweeted to, she totally ignored me. I fully expected her to run and change the link, but nope. So now I’m back to using just my secret Twitter account to tweet whatever comes to mind, some of which I may not even bother to mention in my journal.

I copied all my Prosebox books to the new account but the journals. I have a plan for that which I’ll discuss in my next entry. I’m out of energy to write much more, and it looks like today’s Italian lesson and getting any work done on my story will be out of the question.

A couple of quick dreams: In one, I was being interviewed. The interviewer and I were outside a poor, rundown apartment complex with the neighborhood people watching.

“You recently moved from a posh neighborhood to this. How does it make you feel?” the interviewer asked me.

“Well,” I said, “the other place was more comfortable, but poor folks are more real.”

Then there were the pistol-packing ladies in pink gowns. I was talking with a woman about guns, and she pointed to a picture of some people at some social event. Her daughter wore a long hot pink gown, and she told me she had a gun on her. I thought she hid it very well as the woman went on to say that she’d had some weird boyfriends, so the protection was nice to have.

TUESDAY, JUNE 7, 2016 Period’s late again. I get watery and my boobs get sore, then it lessens. Then it creeps up on me again. But no period other than that spot from two nights ago.

Did a quick public entry on Blogger and then on Prosebox to let Karen know about the anxiety. Charlotte said it probably wouldn’t be helpful to get a new doctor since they can’t know about every single symptom but the important/common ones.

Then this came in:

Jodi, Dr A and I reviewed your message below and we understand your anxiety regarding taking medications. We are very concerned about your risk for cardiovascular disease including heart attack and stroke at a young age due to your very elevated cholesterol levels. You are likely having a surge of stress hormones related to your worries about medications–this leads to symptoms of elevated heart rate, shaking, diarrhea, sometimes even lightheadedness. We recommend a re-trial of the pravastatin at this very low dose. We could even arrange for you to take this in the clinic for the first and second doses so that you have medical attention for evaluation if needed. We really want to work with you to reduce risk and try to calm your fears related to these medications.

Please let me know how you want to proceed.

As I explained to them, the symptoms didn’t start as soon as I took the medication. I explained that I took it Thursday and Saturday night and that I awoke a few hours after the first dose with a sore throat, which Tom also had, and that went away in a day. The frequent bowel movements started right away, but the attack occurred about a day and a half after the last dose.

Again, having found it listed as a rare but possible side effect online, and not having this kind of anxiety before a couple of years ago, makes me think the peri is affecting how the meds affect me. I still don’t think it’s all just me worrying. I was actually beginning to relax and think I had it made after the second dose.

Although… I was first started on a higher dose of Simvastatin, so if it was really that that caused some anxiety, all the shitting I did, and the weight loss, why did it take half a year to do it?

So some things support their belief that it’s just my phobia making me anxious, while others suggest it’s the peri/meds.

Although it was rough, this time around was less hellish than when the levothyroxine got me last fall. This time I didn’t have the band of tightness around the chest or any funky emotions. I just felt wound up and then my heart took off booming. Not quite as fiercely as when I was on the levothyroxine, but fierce enough to make me very glad I wasn’t working out at the time.

Not sure what they mean by “clinic” either. I’m assuming this means that I would take the meds at their office and not a hospital? If I could have a doctor around 24-7 then I would consider a retrial, but I don’t think they’re going to put me in the hospital for this. Besides, even if they did, what’s to say I might not have problems later on down the road?

Then Tom had an idea. After I clarified things for them and told them I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do next, he said to wait till I heard back from them and think about him taking a week or so off from work. Aw, that’s so sweet of him. I feel so grateful yet so guilty at the same time. Not a great way to spend time off, though I’m sure he’d agree that anything is better than working. He gets 5-6 hours off for every 2 weeks of work.

Last night I had a dream I was talking to Linda Ronstadt, only she looked young and thin again. I told her I once had a crush on her and asked her what she thought of that idea. She smiled, laughed, and didn’t seem fazed or offended by the idea, but then she started talking about God, and I immediately regretted revealing my crush.

In another dream, I was in a beauty store of some kind where there were scattered sections of nail polish. I had most of them in my collection and was telling a mother and daughter about the ones I had.

The daughter commented on a bright glow-in-the-dark color and I told her I had that and that it was lighter than it appeared.

The mother then showed me her deep purple nails and I said, “That’s Twilight. I have that one, too.”

MONDAY, JUNE 6, 2016 Bad news. News I wouldn’t dare tell Tammy or anyone else.

The statins backfired on me. Just when I thought I had it made, too. I noticed I felt more on edge than usual last night. I wrote it off to just being nervous about it being the start of the workweek and him having to work every single day, even though it seemed a bit extreme since my anxiety has been mild since January.

I went to bed and told myself I’d feel better in the morning, especially since I wouldn’t be getting up too early, and therefore wouldn’t feel like I had as many hours to be alone. But I lied to myself as much as Dr. A apparently did when she told me it couldn’t cause anxiety. Well, it can. It’s rare, but according to what we found online, it very well can. Even the pharmacist was dishonest, in a sense, by saying it couldn’t kill me. You can actually have a life-threatening allergic reaction from it.

I felt an underlying sense of anxiety since getting up at 10:30, but managed to get through the day’s planned housekeeping. Then just after 2pm, my heart pounded into the 130s. Well, Fitbit showed it at 135, but online it was averaged out to 116. I don’t wear it round the clock, but mostly when I sleep instead. It was too fast and too hard. Let’s just put it that way. This isn’t my only symptom. I’ve also been shitting my ass off.

So Tammy and Karen in Texas were right… statins CAN cause anxiety. Why did Doc A lie to me? Now I’m wondering if I should get another doctor, though I hate to have to put myself out and start all over again with yet another doctor. She should’ve told me anxiety was unlikely but possible.

Because I panicked and called Tom, he suggested seeing Stacey again, and I might if it doesn’t ease up soon. I’m hoping it won’t take 3 months to recover since I didn’t take it for a month like I took the 88s for a month.

Although the attack didn’t last long, I had a horrible thought later on. It’s not likely, but what if I had a pocket flare and the anxiety is from my thyroid meds? God, I hope not! No tightness in the lungs, though, or funky emotions, so I’m still hoping it’ll dissipate soon… even though my problems are rarely short and sweet.

I’m 99% sure it is the statins, and this has taught me something, too. The weight I lost two summers ago was because of the statins, not the levothyroxine, which would explain why I didn’t lose weight last fall. The statins don’t just make me anxious; they lower my appetite and make me shit up a storm.

Another strange thing (though I don’t think this has to do with either drug) is that I can’t try to get myself off without my heart pounding like a motherfucker. In that case, there’s no anxiety involved; it just pounds like a possessed hammer.

I guess something up there doesn’t want me taking anything to keep me from a stroke or a heart attack, though Tom says there are alternatives to statins. Like what? And what’s to say they won’t cause the same problems? It seems I can’t take hardly anything without it fucking me up. I’m just tired of suffering! TIRED of it! We’ve almost been here 3 years and I’ve suffered about two-thirds of the time. As I told Tom, I worry I won’t make it to his retirement and to get out of here someday. He said I thought the same thing about the trailer. True, but you know what? I’d rather die of a sudden heart attack than live to suffer! You know that perfect vision I said I missed most from my youth? Not anymore! I miss not having anything worse than a bad case of stress. Never did I have anxiety like I’ve had the last two years.

I was hoping I’d feel calmer with age, but an article I read doesn’t suggest I will. It said that older people have more problems, so they worry more. Also, they take lots of medications, many of which can make them anxious. Not very promising, but I think I’ll feel better when Tom’s retired if I live that long. I miss the days of feeling smothered by his constant presence like when he was on unemployment. I used to love spending most of my time alone. Not anymore!

I was stunned when Tom read an article about a guy with arrhythmia whose heart was clocked at 310 BPM!

I’m not sure I can fully trust A. She’s going to leave me with sleeplessness and lightheaded issues (other than to do the carotid ultrasound) all summer long? And she’s going to tell me something can’t cause anxiety that can?

I messaged her, told her what happened, and that I was stopping the statins.

Tapping still helps, but it doesn’t get rid of the anxiety completely or keep it from returning when it does. Speaking of it, though, all of a sudden I feel fine again. breathes a huge sigh of relief I don’t know how long it’ll last but I’m THRILLED to say that I just noticed I suddenly went as calm as can be. No anxiety. It’s like it’s gone. Just gone. I’d be shouting for joy if Tom wasn’t asleep, but instead, I cry tears of relief after crying tears of frustration and depression. I hope the worst of it is over! Anxiety is THAT bad. I’d go blind and gain 100 pounds first. Still concerned with what the future may hold, but gonna enjoy this wave of calmness while it lasts.

Wonder if the Ylang Ylang helped at all. I just remembered that when the dentist and I were talking about oils, she mentioned lavender and Ylang Ylang having calming effects. I knew about the lavender, but not the Ylang Ylang, so I threw a few drops in the diffuser.

Managed to work out, though not as long as I wanted to. I was hot, flushed in the face, lightheaded, and my heart pounded.

Anyway, my carotid ultrasound has been rescheduled for 8am on the 16th. Just not sure what doctor I’m seeing at the sleep clinic. I was given one name over the phone, but another name has been checked on the pre-appointment questionnaire I received today.

As for my period… it’s getting stranger all the time. Had a spot last night, but absolutely nothing today. Still got sore boobs and lots of water on me, though.

I rearranged some areas of the laundry room, hallway, and bedroom. I’m a little tired and lightheaded to do much more than listen to my audiobook for the rest of the night, but anyway, I came across a couple of rocks, one of which I shouldn’t have saved.

The first one is a white rock I got in SoCal in the mid-90s. Hardly exciting anymore since I now live in the state.

But then there’s that quartzite rock from our Maricopa land. If the land was as cursed as it seemed to be, then was it wise to take the rock from it? My life may not have gotten nearly as terrifying there as it has here, but it was pretty damn shitty being a slave to the freeloaders and courts the way I was. They fucking owned me. I wasn’t me for most of the 5 years we were there. I was just a number.

In my dream notes, I wrote that I was bike riding at night and something about parked cars and Donna A, the old evil witch, but can’t remember any details. Oh well.

SUNDAY, JUNE 5, 2016 This is too funny. Tom went to the grocery store and said he decided to try Gelato instead of ice cream to see what the difference was. I burst out laughing and let him know that Gelato was simply the Italian word for ice cream. So he really wanted to see if there was a difference between ice cream and ice cream, LMAO!!!

We went to the pool and it was nice. Just slightly chilly, but nice. It’s in the mid-90s out there.

Met a woman named Mona who works full time (and of course she couldn’t be our neighbor) who was nice, but never shut up. I prefer those that talk here and there as opposed to non-stop where you just want to cork their mouths with your flip-flop.

Doing the emotional tapping and feeling more awake so far today. No pain, minimal dizziness.

The pill dreams are back, but the last one I had didn’t scare me at all, and probably wouldn’t have even if Tom hadn’t been home. I took a small cupful of 8 tiny pills in the dream but wasn’t trying to kill myself or even scared. They were pills I had to take for some reason. I dread the day I’m on that many pills!

Rode my bike alone in another dream and turned around somewhere at the bottom of the rollercoaster. I felt ok; I just needed to get back in a hurry for some reason, unless I was going somewhere else.

Had a dream that the old lady in Grande Prairie was frail and ill. I hugged her and told her she’d been like a grandmother to me.

Wondering if something was wrong with her in real life, I did a FO entry, but she did view it, so she’s alive.

SATURDAY, JUNE 4, 2016 OMG, Facebook really needs to stop shoving headlines in our faces! Argh! I’ve had it so much with them (and the lack of privacy issues) that I’ve removed Facebook from my toolbar so I don’t absent-mindedly click in. I’ll check it every other day by accessing it the old-fashioned way.

A fucking judge (it’s gotta be male) gave a rapist just 6 months instead of 6 years in jail to “lessen the impact” on him.

That’s what I got for a fucking letter! OMG, I wish I could strangle both the rapist and judge to death right now! Ugh! So mad now. So yeah, it’s best that I blog for myself. I don’t think my “negativity” has others concerned only for how it could affect me, but for how it could affect them as well to read it. And sometimes, like it or not, my “negativity” is just the truth. It’s a very negative article I’m talking about, but it happened. It’s real. And I’m through with the people-pleasing shit. Tammy may’ve really meant well, but how much of her “concerns” were that she was just tired of reading it? And then why did she continue to anyway?

I can’t fucking believe, though I can, that a rapist would get what I got for words on paper. And all because it was to a black person. Had the person been white I may’ve gotten 90 days if even that.

Thanks, God. You’re just so fucking wonderful.

Throat’s ok, slept ok, but after I ate the fatigue got me again, another thing Tammy wouldn’t be too thrilled to hear. “Perimenopause is rough,” she said. Yes, it is. And I have a right to say so in my journal, too. That’s what it’s FOR.

I complained to Twitter Support – yes, another negative thing – about the lockout issues, which I suspect, are glitches on their part, but they’ve ignored me. I wonder if Aly’s account wasn’t deactivated but locked. Maybe I’ll return to Histofme if it happens a 4th time.

Later…

Had so much fatigue today that I couldn’t finish writing. That’s the beauty of private writing; no deadlines to feel pressured into meeting. Throat’s ended up being sore on and off too, but Tom’s also had a scratchy feeling in his throat. Really hope it’s not my statins! Taking my second dose tonight, so we’ll see.

While I had a burst of energy I got a head start on the home reorganization project I’ve been planning for weeks. I’m looking forward to doing more of it as energy permits.

Tom replaced the broken stem in my shower and while it may not look the greatest, it’s much easier to turn on and off and doesn’t drip.

For last night’s dream, I got a call about a job, had ice cream late one night somewhere with Tom before we caught a bus, and played with an adorable brown rat Tammy might’ve caught from wherever. It was cute and playful. I kissed its back and Tammy shrieked, “Don’t touch him!” I asked why and she said, “Because we don’t know where he’s been.”

FRIDAY, JUNE 3, 2016 Happy 29th birthday to Becky, and thank you, Tammy, for clinching my decision to stop public journaling. Now I have the freedom to say what I want, whine all I want, be as negative as I want, be as controversial as I want, be as blunt as I want… all without censoring names or anything personal.

It's not that she said anything wrong and it isn't that she didn't have a point when we talked yesterday and she mentioned that my blog was very negative and that it was affecting my health and moods. Even so, to me, nobody should hold back in their journals, even if that means an over-expression of negative thoughts, experiences and feelings.

When she mentioned my fear of being left alone, she was under the impression that I felt this as of just last week instead of months ago, and I realized that she had no concept as to the depth of what I went through, saying I’ve got it made compared to her and others, I’d never make it in her shoes, etc. She’s probably right, but her suffering doesn’t devalue mine. Yet understandably, it's very hard to really relate when you haven't gone through something somebody else has. Without experiencing firsthand how the higher doses of Levothyroxine affected me both physically and emotionally, she's never going to get just how bad it was. It was a medical disorder making me have those fears, not a conscious choice. I didn't choose or decide to feel afraid. Still, I get her point. She may not get it like many don’t get my sleep disorder, but yeah, I can be harsh and negative all the way.

But the thing is that while I don’t want to worry others or bring them down in any way (is it really anyone’s business anyway?) I have a right to be me. I don’t feel ashamed or a shred of guilt for speaking my mind and I welcome back the days of writing for me and for me only. I miss being “selfish” with my writing. Unless it was a work of fiction I was being paid fairly for, I never wanted to write for an audience. Yes, public blogging was fun and maybe I’ll return to it someday, but people reading and commenting on my journals have lost its excitement, and visitor tracking is nothing new anymore either. So… time to write for me and be me. I’m not even going to worry so much about spelling and grammar. Just gonna pour it all out.

I’m nobody’s liar. I’m not going to sugarcoat a negative experience or omit it completely just to not come off as negative. I’m going to do what I’ve always done and simply write what comes to mind. Sometimes it will be negative. Sometimes it will be neutral. Other times it will be positive. But yes, I need to worry less and think more positively. It’s just hard to when you’re either worried or not feeling well.

I’m still going to use my blogs because the different platforms are fun and they make for a good backup. They just won’t be public. I know my 4 Prosebox besties are going to wonder where the hell I am, but I get a kick out of Andy and Aly wondering where the hell I am. I mean, sooner or later they’re going to check out my blog out of curiosity, I would think.

So I’m going to blog privately on Blogger and Prosebox and put a hold on my dream blogs for now. They really don’t serve much purpose anyway, and I can always gather future dreams to post later on if I want to.

Not gonna back these posts up to blogs every single day. More like every 10 days or so.

Might also drop the book list, too. It serves no real purpose either. I don’t need to remember what I’ve read cuz Amazon tells me if I accidentally go to order a book I’ve already got.

Since I only have one appointment between now and September, believe it or not, I think I might take a break from my allergy spray. It’s not the time of year for nasal allergies, but if I have an attack, at least I won’t have to worry about sneezing through appointments and can jump back on it if need be.

Finally slept better last night and therefore I’m in a better mood. Got the laundry done today, the grocery list, and completed a handful of other tasks. I found a good way to use up our remaining pods as we transition to liquid detergent, is to put it in the sock bag. That way it can’t get stuck in the seal again.

So while it was through teary eyes of fear that Tammy and most of the public wouldn’t get, I bravely swallowed my first half a Pravastatin last night. Woke up with a slightly sore throat, but then it diminished. Hopefully, it won’t become more of an issue the more I take. I would really like to safely reduce my risk of a heart attack or a stroke, something no one wants to believe can really happen to them.

I don’t fucking believe it. Twitter locked my account again. It’s GOT to be a glitch. Again, I verified my number, unlocked it, then deactivated it. I’m not going to play games with these assholes.

Last night I dreamed I was checking out pictures of Alyssa on my computer with Tom asleep in the adjacent room. As usual, the place didn’t look like ours. I heard a bump and assumed that Tom bumped his arm against the exterior wall above his bed.

Ah, it was nice to write like it was pre-June of 2008 again!

THURSDAY, JUNE 2, 2016 Today’s observation: Aly changed her Twitter handle, not surprisingly. Well, I actually noticed last night. I was surprised I never found the new one through a friend of hers. I would love to think she finally had enough of Kim’s shit and just dumped her and Twitter forever while she sits and regrets dumping her one sane friend that was honest with her, but I’m sure she just didn’t re-follow the friend, knowing anyone could look for her that way.

I’m so done with her, though, that I deleted her from my contacts on my phone. Under no circumstances will I ever again talk to her, Andy, Maliheh, Paula or Nane. It was her decision to throw me away and she’s going to have to live with it.

The only thing that confuses me (not that I’m complaining) is why I haven’t heard from Molly or her mother. Scared of me? Yeah, probably. They should be too, though any future contact would go ignored unless they wouldn’t let me ignore them. Like I should have taught the freeloaders, put your hand far enough into a lion’s den and you just might not be able to yank it back out so easily.

I expected to sleep better last night, even without lorazepam, but instead, I slept worse. Finally took a lorazepam 4 or 5 hours after waking up constantly and slept a little better from there on out. Like it or not, I’m going to have to take one before bed till I get through this so I can sleep shitty instead of super shitty.

Just wondering what it was I did to deserve this shit. It’s like I’m healthy but don’t feel healthy. Technically I’m healthy, but with so many issues to deal with, minor or not, and with so many appointments, I feel like I’m anything but healthy. Again, I wonder what I did to deserve it, but that’s just the thing. Just like so many people tell themselves there’s a good loving God up there, I tried to tell myself I must deserve to suffer for some reason, but you know what? I don’t. I don’t deserve to suffer. I may not be perfect, but I didn’t beat anyone up. I didn’t rip them off. I didn’t break into their house. And I don’t deserve to suffer.

I just feel overwhelmed right now. I’m starting the statins tonight so I’m anxious about that. I’m a bit down now, but mostly pissed, frustrated and feeling helpless. While it’s great that I’ll only have one appointment between now and September, I’m not going to the lab or the sleep doctor until then. So what do I do in the meantime as far as my sleep goes? Just continue to not sleep and to feel like shit most of the time? She was afraid to recommend anything OTC, saying she wouldn’t have any way to guarantee side effects as easily that way.

It really sucks because while I’m tired, I’m not tired enough to go back to bed for another hour or two and catch up on lost sleep. So I’m dragging all damn day with barely enough energy to do things. I do them, but I really have to push myself and take several breaks along the way where I just close my eyes and rest.

I don’t get it, though. My sleep HR did register low enough for better sleep, yet I kept waking up constantly. I even woke up warm once and my heart was about to take off racing. I pushed the covers off and let the air from the fan rush over me.

Anyway, I’m on for Dr. A, the sleep doctor, and my dentist in September. I scheduled the ultrasound for the 13th, but might have to reschedule because Tom doesn’t think my schedule will line up for that day. Me and my fucking math!

I’m going to hold off on bumping the dentist up sooner because I haven’t had much pain in that tooth. Fortunately, the sleep doctor seems to be an American guy. I just get sick of the funky accents, and getting American doctors these days is hit or miss. Trump wants to “make America great again?” Let’s try putting the American back in America.

Since nothing lasts forever and I assume that someday – someday – this shit will end which I still suspect is mostly perimenopause-related (possibly sleep apnea, too), it’ll just be on to something else. I seem to have one long-term problem after another. I still say it was a lot easier being broke.

At least it hasn’t been noisy today… yet. Yesterday it was landscaping, and the day before that it was 45 minutes of sawing trees, but that wasn’t in the park. That was just over the wall where the golf course is. The car stereos, also which might not be coming from in the park, are totally annoying at this time of year. Not even an hour passes that I don’t hear one thumping by. I STILL can’t believe the damn things are STILL legal. But don’t you dare hurt anybody’s poor precious, sensitive, eggshell feelings with your opinions and beliefs! rolls eyes

It’s been very hot and dry. It’s nice in the shade, but my God have I gotten sun-sensitive lately! Is it age? Cuz I’m fat? Something else? I just can’t handle being in direct sunlight for long when it’s over 80° unless I’ve got a pool nearby.

To finish up with yesterday… We went to Smog-n-Go for emissions testing which took no time at all since it’s a luxury car. Didn’t care for the little girl in the waiting room who just couldn’t shut the hell up. Not just that, but the damn brat was so LOUD. I could hear it all the way in the bathroom. After several minutes of waiting outside, its father led it to their car and it was still yacking non-stop. How do the parents deal with this shit on a regular basis and not want to tear their hair out, throw their hands up and scream, “Will you just shut up already!” My mother never would’ve let me go on at the mouth that loud or that consistently. It’s like, my God, make it come up for air at least while it’s around other people, will ya?

Went to Chili’s after the car was done and got beef quesadillas and French fries that weren’t very good. Our food only cost $3, though, since we used the GC he got from work.

Went treasure hunting at the GW after that and got a couple of sun catchers and a pair of pink scissors.

Last stop was to Walmart to pick up my statins. I’ll be anxiously starting that tonight. I just want to stop having so many damn problems! I miss those 15 years I didn’t go to doctors, though right now my biggest problem is sleeping. I just want a decent night’s sleep a little more often. Is that too much to ask for?

As for my weight… I’ve been in the low 150s lately and decided to compromise. Although I still don’t think I can do it, I’ll aim for 145 rather than 120. I shouldn’t have any issues at that weight. It’s only 6 pounds away, but to an older woman with Hashimoto’s, it may as well be 60.

Last night I dreamed we were still living with Jesse. He had one of his many projects lined up and I asked him when he planned to start working on whatever he was going to work on next. He said, “I don’t care about your schedule.”

I told him well, I did care and was asking so I could be up when he’d be working.

Then I was sitting by an indoor pool of his. A few others were swimming in it. At one point I patted some guy on the back and told them they were like a big brother to me. They didn’t seem too thrilled with that idea.

Then we were in a hotel. I was asleep when a few bumps and bangs woke me up from the next room. I got up, thinking it was daytime, but then when I looked out the window I could see it was still the middle of the night.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 1, 2016 Just noticed Maliheh’s got me blocked again, and no, I have no idea why any more than I can guess why Twitter locked my old account the last time they locked it. Could be the “I’d wish you a happy birthday if I gave a shit” photo card I sent her two weeks ago, but that was sent by email, not Facebook. I’ll check every month or so to see if she unblocks me again. As soon as she does, I’ll take the honor of blocking her… for good.

As for Kim, she’s definitely not reading my blog and I’m not going to bother with any further “tests” on her. I don’t care what else she sees/blocks. I just wanted to get away from her on Twitter where she has a million accounts to block me from and knows I can’t track her. She had to have been checking my tweets every few hours, though, based on how fast she’d change links after I’d mention them.

Woke up a million times throughout my sleep and slept worse than usual as Fitbit reflected. My HR only dropped to 73. It needs to be 68-71 to get me in a sound sleep. Tom noticed the same thing with him. After a good night’s sleep, he finds he drops to the high 40s, but only to the low 50s when he doesn’t sleep well. Now that my appointment is over and I have a better sense of what’s going on, I’ll probably sleep better tonight. Maybe even without the lorazepam. She’s ok with me taking it before bed if I need it, though.

Got up at 6am, took my thyroid meds, had coffee and a kiddy smoothie in a half-hour, then we were on the freeway just after 7:30.

Every year they give you a Depression Screening questionnaire, so I filled that out, confirmed my meds, then took Tom back in to see A with me so he could be an extra set of ears in case I forgot anything.

My BP was 150/90 but only cuz I was nervous. My pulse was 88, but it’s normal for me to be high.

While my lungs and heart sounded good, the doctor talked me into taking half a 10-mcg tablet of Pravastatin every other day. That’s a little less scary than daily Lipitor at 20 mg. She assured me it can’t kill me and to just stop it and let her know if I have any problems like muscle aches. For some reason, I was under the impression it could paralyze your muscles and then kill you cuz you couldn’t breathe. She said it wouldn’t make me anxious either. According to her, I should worry more if I didn’t take it than if I did as my numbers are high and so is the risk of stroke and heart attack.

While I agree that it was the wrong dose of levothyroxine that was causing my killer anxiety and not the 25 mg of Simvastatin I was on a couple of years ago, I still have a medication phobia in general, so starting the Pravastatin is going to be a little scary. I appreciate her patience and understanding, though. As she told me the first time I saw her a year and a half ago, it’s best to expose people to what they’re afraid of in small doses, pardon the pun.

She also wants to do an arterial ultrasound for what I believe is my carotid artery to make sure no blockage has been causing my dizziness. Dizziness has been better overall, though.

We discussed my perimenopause symptoms and the trouble I’ve been having sleeping, as well as my non-24 sleep disorder and suspicions of sleep apnea. She thought it would be best to go to the Sleep Disorder clinic and talk to their specialist before participating in a sleep apnea test, which will be VERY hard for me. Not just because of schedule issues but because I’m used to sleeping with a loud sound machine since everything wakes me up, and I mean everything. Forget the loud traffic and landscaping sounds; if Tom so much as sneezes or uses the microwave if I sleep with no fans or sound machines, I wake up instantly. So to fall asleep with no sound machine in a strange environment will be quite a challenge. Still not sure it’ll come to that, though. Also, she said there was a test that could be done from home, but it’s not as accurate.

Because lorazepam is a narcotic, I had to sign their yearly contract and take a random urine test. That was easy enough as often as I have to pee. At least I didn’t have to endure the humiliation of it being observed!

We explained how they wanted to charge us money we’ve never had to pay before at the lab and canceled the test after waiting for nearly an hour for nothing after having my thyroid tested 6 weeks ago. Apparently, they read the computer dates wrong. They need to stop doing that, too. That really bothers me when I end up put out due to their carelessness. What if it were something dangerous?

So as O and I agreed, my thyroid is just a hair above normal and I feel best with my T4 at 1.0 – 2.0. So I’m staying on 75 mcg.

In 3 months I’m to report back to her. The week before that I’m to go to the lab for the following list of tests.

Lipid Panel wRfx Direct LDL

CK Total

FSH Follicle Stimulating Hormone Level

Luteinizing Hormone LH

Estrogen Level Total

TSH Ultrasensitive (3rd Gen)

T4 Free

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