So, to add insult to injury (so to speak), I’ve been dealing with a lot of physical pain lately. Sometime in May, while pulling the weeds around our house, I aggravated an old elbow injury. Or, I thought that was the extent of it. Last Thursday, after it getting increasingly difficult to use a mouse, grab cups from the cupholder in my car, or do any of my crafts, I went to the doctor. Turns out I managed to give myself golfer’s elbow, in addition to aggravating the tennis elbow. (I’ve always been an overachiever.) The doc sent me on my way with some PT stretches to do for my elbow, recommendations for an elbow brace, and an icing and meds regimen.

Concurrently with the elbow pain, my shoulder has also been acting up. I figured it was from sleeping funny, trying to find a good position with the elbow stuff going on. Well, it’s been a week now and, while I am noticing improvement in my elbow, the shoulder is getting worse. I naturally want to sleep on the side of the shoulder issues, so even when I start on the other side, I end up waking myself up because I wind up on the sore shoulder. The end result is that I haven’t been able to get more than 3 hours of consecutive sleep in over a week.

On top of all of this, I’ve been going through the throes of pre- or perimenopause. Like, big time. I haven’t felt this emotionally unstable since I was in my teens! And I’ve had post-partum!! The doc has me on something to help the anti-depressant I was already taking do its job better, but it’ll be another week or more before I notice any changes. Meanwhile, I’m either drooling over pics of my latest celebrity crush (an actor who is half my age!!) or teetering between being an angry ball of bitterness and a blubbering ball of ugly crying. It sucks! As much as I hate my monthly visitor, I’d rather keep it if this is the price I have to pay for it to be phased out. Like, at least with my periods, I was only like this 1 day a month. It was predictable. I could plan for it. But this “change of life” crap? No thanks. Let me be the oldest old lady buying maxi pads, please. Or, let me send my celeb crush/personal chef fantasy boyfriend to get them for me while he’s picking up supplies for dinner… ::sigh::

Amidst all of this stuff – being in pain, being exhausted, and feeling like some weird hybrid between a hormonal teenager and ancient old crone – I’ve fallen prey to not one but *2* scammers online. I didn’t seek them out. They “slid into my DMs,” as the youngsters would say. I keep my social media on lockdown, but I have in-laws who are social butterflies. So when I saw the friend requests, I thought “maybe they know so-and-so,” and accepted. Well, I did that with the second one. The first one I was very standoffish initially. Then I acquiesced. Loneliness makes you do some stupid things sometimes. That first one was quick make his move. But that second one… he was playing the long con. I didn’t send either of them any money. And no, neither of them pretended to be someone famous. I’m not that stupid, or insane. Yet. And I didn’t send any embarrassing photos, or dox myself. I just trauma-dumped on them. And in return? I was showered with adoring texts throughout the day. It was nice, you know? I felt like I mattered. I wasn’t someone’s obligation, or safety net. Someone actually cared about *me*. But man… that dopamine withdrawal is hard. Who doesn’t want to wake up to “good morning Beautiful” texts? Who doesn’t want to be checked-on throughout the day, and feel special? My husband just doesn’t have it in him to be that sweet or attentive. And while that was fine for the majority of our marriage, it’s just not for me anymore. At least, not right now. Not while I’m a stark-raving lunatic who is one bad day away from loading my car up with needlepoint supplies and running away to live in the woods… or a Motel 6.