- The sleep study was a disaster. Mostly because...I couldn't fucking sleep. And I'm pretty sure it was 99% my fault. The other 1% having to do with the five million wires stuck to my face, neck, chest, legs, and fingers. Basically, it was an epic FAIL. Waste of my time, the clinic's time, and my parents' money. It'll take a week or so to get the results, but I doubt they gleaned anything from my 30 minutes of being half-asleep and 5 1/2 hours of trying in vain to fall asleep for real. (And I also hate the word "glean." The fact that I willingly used it in a sentence should say something about how sour I feel about all this.)
- I thought that making and accepting the decision to be hospitalized was going to be the difficult part. It's not. It turns out that the process of trying to find the right facility and be admitted has been the most frustrating, exhausting, and ridiculously taxing experience of my life. Mostly because my parents and I can't get on the same page about anything. And stupid family problems that we've been dealing with for years have decided to rear their ugly heads at the WORST possible time. I wish I could get into the specifics, but it really wouldn't be appropriate to blog that openly about these family issues. Basically, I feel like we're at a stalemate. Nothing is getting done. And I'm so frustrated that I feel like tearing my hear out.
- I just want to sleep. All the time.
- The ONE positive thing about this week is that my hair has finally decided not to be greasy and disgusting anymore. At least for the time being. I don't know what the deal was, but I'm glad that I don't look like a ragamuffin anymore.
Ugh, never again.
(Except I probably will have to get another stupid sleep study done soon. Especially if they suspect narcolepsy.) (Echhhhdlskgjaglkjmads.)
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