Monday, June 12, 2017

Return to Sender

I have 17 books 8006 entries here. Some people have asked, knowing that most of us keep some things private, so now you know. :)

I can’t believe it’s almost the middle of June yet it’s 68° inside the house right now. WTF is this state coming to?

Most of the weekend was positively shitty. I didn’t start feeling better until the end of my day yesterday, around the time we reapplied the Return to Sender spell. It really does seem to help. It doesn’t make things perfect and it doesn’t mean you won’t have some bad days, but you do have more good days with this spell. I looked in my journal and found that the last time we did the spell (it takes two people to perform it) was December 31 of 2015. Things were relatively good until June when they tried to statin me, then the shit hit the fan again in the fall when they attempted to raise my levothyroxine dose.

I almost hit my goal. *Almost*. It’s very frustrating and even a bit depressing to have come so close. Since early January I’ve had a handful of days where my anxiety was borderline, but nothing major until the first of this month. I was hoping to make it until the middle of the month because then I feel like I really would have been breaking records with that and therefore making progress. It’s even been 5 months since I saw Stacey.

But then the fatigue set in, another period came, and I’ve been anxious on and off for the last 12 days.

The last two nights I slept shitty after doing better with that for nearly a week. I’ve woken up with hot flashes, inward trembling, and feeling the pulse in my neck, which I sometimes feel. Had a series of weird dreams along the way, too. I could do a whole entry just on that.

So this morning I skipped my thyroid medication a second time (it took three skips to help back the anxiety off the last time) after waking up borderline anxious, went out walking in this endless winter, then traded anxiety in for lightheadedness. After I relaxed a few minutes and had something to eat I was fine. He left for work and I did some cleaning and hit the Bowflex.

That super loud car is on its way to work now. So glad they’re working so I don’t have to listen to them come and go 50 times a day, but I feel like that house is never going to sell. I think they need to drop it under 100K.

Anyway, we’re going to reschedule with my PCP for sure. The question is whether or not I want to see Stacey. I miss her and I usually feel better after talking with her, but I really don’t know that there’s anything more she can do for me. I’m either going to continue to suffer on and off for the rest of my life, or this shit is going to stop before I do something stupid. Gosh, I hope it doesn’t come down to that! But anxiety can morph into depression. While anxiety feels worse than depression, anxious people just want to calm down whereas depressed people can end up with their thoughts turning awfully dark… without the help of Prozac.

First you get anxious, then you get frustrated that you got anxious, then you get depressed because you felt both those things, and then you get pissed because you feel powerless to do shit about it. You think if there really was a God, He’s got to be one seriously heartless asshole to allow you to continue to suffer. You wonder what you did to deserve it, along with all the other countless innocent sufferers of various kinds out there in the world. The only good in it is that it makes the good times all the more special. You appreciate the beauty of nature more than you normally would, the sound of a lovely song, and the wonder of the universe itself, minus the pain, sorrow, violence, war, hate, craziness, death and destruction.

Back to Stacey. Yeah, I miss her at times. The sound of her voice, her warm brown eyes, her intelligence…

What’s frustrating and sometimes even scary about perimenopause is that the anxiety can come and go in a split second, as can other symptoms. Before I finish typing this sentence I could be anxious all over again. Or maybe I’ll be dizzy by the time I finished the entire entry. You just never know. You’re pretty much at its mercy. But everything I’ve taken for it has either quit working or backfired on me, so I’m trying to tough it out with natural remedies. Right now I feel okay and all I can do is hope that it’s for more than just a little while.

Okay, so let me get to the dreams, and yes, Stacey was in a few no doubt because she’s been on my mind. My old endo popped into my dreams too, LOL.

Doc O was in a small room (her office?) mumbling to herself that she was worried about being recognized somewhere.

Finding it hard to believe she would be the type to straighten her curly hair, and never having seen her with makeup I said, “So change your appearance.”

“In a half hour?” she asked doubtfully.

“Or less,” I said with a confident nod. Then I pulled my hair straightening brush from my handbag as well as a makeup palette, ready to give her a makeover.

Then I met Stacey somewhere in a long corridor. She was still short and skinny but her hair was a few inches below her shoulders.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked as I began to follow her.

“To the dance rehearsal for the dance contest,” she said.

So I followed her into this auditorium and watched a few dancers go through some dance routines.

Stacey then said, “I think you can win. Think you can do these moves?”

“I don’t know if I can win, and a couple of them seem a bit intricate, but yeah, I think I can do it with some practice.”

I watched them for a while so I would learn the routines, and then I was suddenly in bed with Stacey. No, not doing what you might think we were doing. The room was dark and she was sound asleep beside me.

Then I got up and watched a video I didn’t know someone had made of us sitting in a booth in a restaurant. My hair was only to my shoulders and I thought I looked both fat and old, but I didn’t care. Instead, I wondered who the hell made the video.

Then I was in a dark room sitting at a small rectangular table. The room was silent but I was aware that the person sitting across from me and next to me, whoever they were, was well aware of me. I pushed some papers around that sat on the table.

The rest of the dreams I remember are just fragments of things… lying on a bed with a backache in a dark room. Walking down a long corridor in a building and spotting a cat. Some apartment manager showing me wallpaper options for an apartment. People camping by a road. Someone telling me I looked sad. A girl running really fast to catch a bus.

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