Well, once again, reality turned out to be less scary than anxiety had made it out to be.

I got the brakes fixed on my car today, after stressing over it for more than a week (my repair guy was on holiday).

And instead of the thousand-plus-dollar expense I was expecting, the actual price was $460.

It takes out the last of my reserve fund, but that's what that money was for, and now I can start slowly rebuilding it.

(Breathes a sigh of relief ….)

Its weird to have a revelation about yourself at 55.

But I did yesterday, as I finally realized I am super tactile.

I'm always stroking my blankets, or my stuffed toys, or just about anything I can reach.

Thing is, even now being able to acknowledge this, I still have no clue why I do this.

ah, well.

in case anybody isn't tired of me talking about my dreams, here is last night's:

I dreamed I was an assistant to a young man, who looked like an athlete. I was following him, taking notes on a notepad, and after entering a hotel room with 2 beautiful women on the bed, he announced he was going to take a bath.

Because he also wanted me to keep taking notes, he had me follow him, and in the swimming-pool sized tub were 3 more women who I ignored as I kept taking notes.

okay, its dream time again.

last night I dreamed I was working in a place that kind of reminded me of Black Mesa from the game Half Life. But unlike the game, we were not evacuating, but we were moving.

After helping a woman with some offices, I went to see if I could help anybody else, when one of the senior people there told me we had a spy somewhere in the facility, and asked me to do a search.

I'd like to take a moment and give a fellow author here a bit of a push.

I've been reading RobertaME's autobiographical work, "For God so loved the world", and while a lot of it is painful, it is ultimately a story of faith and survival.

If you're so inclined, she'd love feedback on the piece, which is found here:

https://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/90781/god-so-loved-world

spent some time with my friend Cheryl Teddy Thomas, and it was wonderful.

Her little dog fell asleep on my chest, and I confessed that my mom's paranoia is draining me of spoons, something I've avoided confronting.

I needed both.

okay so I finally, finally, finally took all the clothes that don't fit me to goodwill,

This has been hanging over my head for months, so to get it off my "to do" list feels like a super-human accomplishment.

well, I got some encouraging news during a doctor's visit today:

My blood pressure?

121/85

my weight?

308 pounds

pretty good, huh?

For anybody interested in seeing more of Portal Problems, I'm afraid I'm shelving it for now. After publishing the first chapter and seeing the responses, I took a look at the next few chapters, and realized the characters lacked . . . character. They do stuff, but the reader would learn nothing about them.

So unless I can fix that, the rest of the story will not be published.

Sorry for any inconvenience.

So I lost a friend yesterday.

To give you guys some context, a couple of years ago I joined a local writing group.

We would get together once a week and share pieces of our writing and provide feedback to each other.

We had to put things on hold during COVID, but the leader of the group and I kept in touch, and she was responsible for me getting my short story published.

Well, while we were talking on the phone, I apparently said something that hurt her feelings, and the next time we talked, I thought we had cleared the air and everything was okay again.

Just wanted to send out a big "thank you" to the people who took the time to give me some support during my last tussle with the black dog of depression.

You guys and gals rock.

well, I turned 55 today. going swimming, and my mom's taking me out for supper.

hugs to all

new bit of silliness is up!

https://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/90430/ballad-ted-bandpat

okay so last night my CPAP machine was going at such a pressure it actually caused the hose to separate from the mask.

I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that's not good.

Well, I had a scary moment today, thought they were going to take my CPAP machine away

apparently, its not helping enough, its on max pressure, and I'm still having apnea way too often.

But the problem was my sleep study apparently wouldn't qualify me for the more powerful Bipap machine, so I could have been stuck.

But for now they are giving me the nose mask instead of the full mask in the hops it will not leak as much, and they're having me come back in 2 weeks to see how that goes

so I had a pretty productive day.

Mike and I weeded the front lawn, then I trimmed the side, then I watched as my TV was removed (along some other trash), then I did a bottle run.

I know that doesn't sound like much, but I feel good about the day, and that doesn't happen all that often.

well, it turns out its possible that my sleep apnea isn't the only reason I thrash around in my sleep
.
Last night, I awoke to find I had tossed my pillows everywhere and pulled my CPAP machine off the nightstand.

But It had kept running and I never lost the connection between the mask and the machine, so I was getting air while this was happening.

Don't ask me what's going on, I really have no clue.

the magazine with my story is up!

https://www.lemonspouting.com/post/under-the-stars

I confirmed my worst fears.

I phoned the Calgary law library about what happened to my rapist, and there is no record of a conviction.

Now, it could be there was a publication ban to protect his victims, or a jury trial, in which case no written statement about the conviction would be on record

but he was able to testify in a civil suit in 1999, so unlikely he'd been charged before then.

and considering he was raping me from about 1973 to 1975, its unlikely my name would have been brought up in any case against him.

so today, I went and got x-rays on my knees, and the tech asked me if I still had my periods.

even after so long into my transition, I still appreciate moments of validation like this.

After decades of abuse and neglect, my body is finally getting back at me by falling apart.

Its somehow ironic that it turns out the abuser who has done the most damage to me -- was me, all along.

sighs . . .