Voluntary admission

Voluntary admission

I had a meeting with my therapist and a few phone calls to my pdoc today. They were not amused with my blog from yesterday. I was kind of hoping my pdoc didn’t read it but she did, and now I am fucked. Tomorrow morning I have to leave the house early to go in the hospital because that is when a bed will be available. I would have gone in today but there are no beds. So I get to spend another night staring at all my bottles, wondering which will do me in and which will only knock me out. I just texted my therapist to call me as it’s urgent. I really don’t know if I can keep myself safe one more night. Then I will be babysat for I don’t know how many days until I get released. Fun! I packed my backpack and it is very full. It doesn’t have my journal in it so I will need to pack that before going to bed tonight. I could have packed another bag but I want something that will be not so noticeable. I plan on leaving the house before my mother gets up so I don’t have to deal with her. I have not told anyone except two friends (and no blog world) that I am going to the hospital. I keep waiting for myself to “snap out of it” but it hasn’t happened yet.

Therapy today was fun. We went over my crisis response and I am supposed to write down alternatives to my thoughts of suicide. I don’t see anything because the damn constriction is making it so I only see one option, and that is death. I would page my psychiatrist right now and be like I don’t need to go in but I think it is a lost cause. She might send me to the ER if I don’t and I don’t want to spend a night in the ER.

I took a test run today to see what bus I have to take to get to the hospital tomorrow morning. I hope the shuttle bus isn’t crowded. I hate crowded public transportation. It gives me anxiety. I just realized that I didn’t pack any socks that I washed yesterday. I am an idiot!

I am hoping to go to the same unit I was on before. I don’t be able to blog like I do as it will be on phone. If I do blog from my phone, please excuse typos and grammatical errors. I might not catch them. Last time, I wrote a really long blog that I typed up after I got discharged to talk about my experience. I might not do it this time because it was an ordeal. I had several pages to type up and handwriting to decipher. So if I go a day or two without blogging, know that I am in the hospital and can’t right now. I would love to take my laptop but I am too afraid of it getting stolen or worse, dropped. I still haven’t decided which pants to wear tomorrow. I hate deciding what clothes to wear and what is deemed safe.

I severely chopped my eyebrows off today. Yesterday there was one hair that was out of whack and instead of plucking it with tweezers, I decided to use my hair clipper. Bye-bye eyebrow. Today I decided to do the same to my other one. I don’t know which looks worse on me. But I kind of like them being this short. I have bushy hairbrows so the trim, although not even, is ideal.

I really hope that I can be safe tonight. My therapist hasn’t called me yet. I just want to say fuck it and do something. But I don’t think that will go over too well with anybody, including myself. I still am wondering how to play it out in the hospital. If I make myself too unsafe, I probably won’t get my cords to charge my phone and I NEED my phone. I will be there a minimum of 7 days. But I am really freaking out on my therapist being on vacation the following week and be being out in the world. It scares me. They could discharge me anyways, they don’t care if you are suicidal and have plans to end your life. I just am so tired of fighting all the time. I really don’t think me threatening to kill myself when I get discharged will be a good idea. That might keep me there longer, which I kind of am hoping for. I just hope that the fire alarms don’t go off while I’m there. It’s an old building and last time, just steam would set them off. It was horrible! Everything is just so sensitive when you are on a psych unit.

Posted in chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders, suicide, suicide attempt | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Diagnosis

Diagnosis

Today I finally learned my diagnosis because my pdoc ordered some blood work to make sure I didn’t mess up my kidneys or liver with the OD the other night. I am bipolar I, currently depressed, severe, without no mention of psychotic behavior. That is a mouthful.

My pdoc wanted very badly to hospitalize me today. She wanted me to “push” her to do it and it wouldn’t have taken much to do. But I told her I didn’t want to go to the hospital. I fought her on it and I am to keep in contact with her the next few days. She is on vacation next week and I don’t see her until the 22nd of Aug. My therapist is on vacation starting Aug 11th. I would most likely be admitted for the whole month of August and I don’t like that. I might go in after I get my narcs for the month from my PCP. I can’t miss that appointment or it screws up the schedule. And the last time I was admitted, he took it as I was going to overdose on my narcs and it just was a mess. I had to pay extra because he only gave me a two week supply. I don’t have the money to be paying double.

I half want to email my doc and tell her I still want to smash my head in with a 20lb hammer. But that might section me as I am already walking a fine line right now. She didn’t kill me like I thought she would but she is very concerned about my welfare. The most she could do was force me to get blood work and an EKG. I hated having both done. But it was better getting them done as an outpatient than as an ER visitor.

Right now I am so conflicted. I want to go in the hospital but I am fearful that the demons will come out like they did in this crazy dream I was having about the hospital. I kept telling them I was going to kill myself when I got out, just watch and because I didn’t have follow up care, they kept me. This went on for weeks, least it did in the dream. I know that if I let myself go, I will hold nothing back. It will actually be interesting to see if they discharge me when I tell them I am going to kill myself. But I don’t think I want to find out. I do know that if I don’t have follow up within a week of being out, they might not discharge me.

But the 20lb hammer thing, it is starting to become obsessive thoughts. I still haven’t figured out how to swing the rope so that it hit me just right. But I keep thinking about it. Or maybe get it square in the forehead and hope it does enough damage. Thing is, I don’t know if I will defend against it. My reflexes are good, I think, so if something is coming at me, I will duck out of the way, which will defeat the whole purpose.

My therapist doesn’t know about this idea either. We haven’t had time to talk about it because she keep doing the SSF (Suicide Status Form) on me to assess how I am doing. That was the other thing my pdoc was asking about, how to keep me safe and what plans are in place so that I don’t do what I did on Saturday again. She knows it will take very little for me to harm myself with the meds that I am on. But both my pdoc and therapist knows I am both careful and smart with my meds. But with my therapist tracking my suicidality, my pdoc felt a little better. Otherwise, I think I would be sitting in the ER waiting for a bed someplace.

I feel really shitty. My bowels are fucked up and I don’t think there is enough senna in the world right now to set them straight. I still feel sleepy most of the time. Exhaustion will just wash over me. I think I am still under the meds hangover. So I think I will skip tonight’s dose too. I will just take an Ativan plus my other meds to sleep. Hopefully, the stupid abilify doesn’t send me into hyper mode. It didn’t last night, I think because I was still harboring some of the mood stabilizer in my system. I slept pretty good, got at least six hours straight, which was better than the night I OD’d. I think my pain meds helped because I was really having zaps and exploding pain going through my foot last night. It literally felt like someone was trying to rip off my big toe and smash it with a hammer. Not a pleasant type of feeling.

I still haven’t gotten around to changing my sheets. I keep saying tomorrow and it never happens. I need to wash my comforter, too. I wish I had the energy to do it.

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HOF and other stuff

HOF and other stuff

Today was the induction of several players into the Baseball Hall Of Fame (HOF). Greg Maddux and Joe Torre were among the men being honored. I totally respect Joe Torre because he always has class around baseball and totally respects the game. Although I am a Red Sox fan, I still respect the guy all the years he managed the Yankees. I hope that he becomes the next commissioner of baseball. That will really be good.

I overdosed last night. I kept taking my mood stabilizer until I felt it was enough. Today I am sick and have an awful headache. I researched what the symptoms were of an overdose before I did it and seeing as no one died from it, I figured being sleepy and feeling hungover were okay. My therapist and psychiatrist may not think so, but I am feeling better psychologically. I got the “fuck its” out of my system. Question now becomes do I tell my pdoc what I have done. I have texted my therapist all weekend so she knows what is going on. I am trying to get an appointment with her tomorrow to talk things over. But I don’t know if she still has the time open.

I have been sleeping most of the day and feel the need to lie down every so often. My eyes are kind of dilated so I have been staying in my room so no one notices. I made myself something to eat so my appetite has not been affected. I wish I could say the same for my bowels. They have been hurting me all day. I don’t know if that means that I have to go or not but it’s driving me crazy. I know I haven’t gone in the last few days so tonight I will take a laxative to try and get things moving. I hate feeling uncomfortable. Constipation is a side effect of the meds, not only of what I took, but with the other meds I take.

Despite taking large amounts of the meds, I didn’t sleep very well. Every three hours I was up. It made for a shitty night sleeping. I wasn’t sick when I woke up. I just took more meds to go back to sleep. I knew I wasn’t going to die from what I was taking. I just wanted an escape and it gave me that. It made me forget how I was feeling, least for a little while.

I still am thinking of going in the hospital tomorrow. But I don’t really think it is warranted as I am feeling better. But I will discuss this with my pdoc tomorrow when I contact her. I won’t be telling her what I did or I will be admitted, most likely involuntarily. Thing is I don’t know what to tell her. I sent her a message and I haven’t heard back from her but then she may not check her messages over the weekend. The midnight demons were out Friday night. I basically told her that if something were to happen to me, she wasn’t to blame and she wasn’t a failure. I just ended the message at that. This was before I OD’d.

I so need a cup of coffee. I think that will make my headache go away but it’s too late now for a cup as I will be up all night. I will make it tomorrow morning, that is, if I don’t go out first. I would like to go to Starbucks tomorrow and get a cup. I wish they had my Kati Kati brand. But they are out of it. I could order it, but I don’t have the funds to do so. And I really don’t need another coffee to keep me in the house. I bought their Breakfast blend coffee and when I make it, I don’t leave the house. I have been in the house all weekend. Doesn’t help me when I am so depressed. I am not saying that the overdose cured me of being suicidal but the thoughts have been less since doing it, least the impulsivity of acting on my thoughts. I still want to die but it is less intense than it was on Friday. I still wish I could figure out a gizmo that can swing a 20 lb hammer to smash my skull. My only fear is just knocking me out and surviving. Then I will be stuck with traumatic brain injury which won’t be fun.

I washed my socks today, in preparation for going in the hospital as I don’t have any clean pairs. I doubt I will wear more than one pair as I usually walk around the floor with my slipper socks or slippers. I don’t wear street clothes, though I think you are supposed to. I like wearing my PJs all day. I still am conflicted about going in or not. I know that if I say that I overdosed that will be an automatic admission. But the problem will be that they may take me off the drug and that will be disastrous to me. I don’t plan on overdosing on it but the idiot docs don’t want to take that chance again. I don’t know how I will overdose in the hospital as the nurse watches you take your meds and knows when you don’t take them. Plus the med is a horse pill so trying to sneak it off will be very difficult. It just will be easier if they don’t know what I did. Besides, saying that I will overdose on benedryl is always my back up.

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Frustrated beyond frustrated

I didn’t get much sleep last night. I was struggling with my suicidal thoughts and was having physical pain on top of it. I think I went to sleep somewhere around 4. But I had a crappy sleep as I was up almost every hour after that. I finally gave up around 10ish. I made myself some breakfast and then my niece came upstairs as she needed to be babysat. She was hungry and like what I made, hard boiled eggs, so I made her one.

Lately I have been thinking of smashing my skull in with a 20lb hammer. I haven’t worked out the logistics of doing so but it’s a thought. I just am so depressed that I just want to die. I thought about overdosing on my mood stabilizer today but the most it would do is make me sleep. I might take some tonight if I don’t fall asleep right away. I don’t care. I texted my therapist saying that I don’t want to talk with her on Tuesday and asked her to please don’t call me. I don’t know if she will honor the cancelation. I still have to talk to my pdoc on Monday. I am not looking forward to that. I sent her an email at like 330 in the morning saying that if something should happen to me, that it isn’t her fault. She is not to blame and she is definitely not a failure. I sent the same message to my therapist via text. I just feel like I have to prepare them for the worse that can happen to me. I know I probably am not in my “right” mind. I have been thinking about going to the ER most of the day but I haven’t packed a bag in case they admit me. And I hate weekend admissions so I think I will stay out of the ER for at least until Monday.

My writing partner emailed me. She wants to know what happened at my pdoc appt as she hasn’t heard from me. I don’t know what to tell her. I don’t think “I am suicidal and I avoided hospitalization” will go over too well. She said that she was going to text me yesterday but never got around to it. I would have been shocked to get a text message from her. We exchanged cell numbers when she came for a visit about a few weeks ago. It was good chatting with her after spending so much time emailing one another for two years now. I just don’t want her to worry. But if I don’t answer the email, she will worry. I will think of something to say. I always do.

I am very tired. I took my mood stabilizer early this afternoon to try and sleep and I was not too successful. I keep thinking about emptying the rest of the bottle. There are only a handful of pills in it. But there has been no documentation that this drug is lethal. You would need mega doses to kill yourself and I don’t have it. I just want to zone out for a few hours or a day or two. Maybe then, it will snap me out of this funk that I am in. Then on the other hand, I want to text my therapist and let her know what I am thinking. But if I do that, then the cancelation will be canceled and I will have therapy on Tuesday. Only way to get out of it will be to go into the hospital on Monday. If I get there early enough, I probably won’t spend all day there. But it all depends on if there is a bed available where I want to go. I just am frustrated by not knowing.

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profoundly depressed

Profoundly depressed

I met with my pdoc today. She didn’t talk me into the hospital. I argued against the reasons why I shouldn’t be in (no help basically and just being babysat). I told her about how horrible it was last night. Last night I had the thoughts of preparing and deciding how to kill myself. The thoughts were very intrusive and very hard to distract myself from. I told my pdoc that I thought of paging her but really what was she going to do beside tell me to go to the ER. I left the appointment a little better. I have to contact her on Monday or Tuesday to let her know how I am doing. She kept looking at me oddly when she said this. I don’t know if she was trying to detect my deceptiveness or if I wasn’t telling the truth but it was weird. I told her I had no plans for the weekend. I don’t think telling her “other than killing myself” would have flown very well. I told her I might get my coffee tomorrow to get out of the house and I was just planning on staying in on Sunday, like I usually do. If they had a bus going to my Starbucks, I might go out but they don’t. Sucks relying on public transportation on the weekends because the service is so different than during the week. She seemed ok with the answer but still gave me the odd look and kept saying she wants me to keep in touch with her.

I talked to one of my good friends last night and told him I was feeling like I might go into the hospital again because I just can’t stop thinking about killing myself. All week it has been like this but I have no energy, really, of going through with the thoughts. I just feel stuck. He was supportive and of course, doesn’t want me to die. The hard part is the family piece. I can’t just say bluntly either the hospital or a casket. My family just doesn’t understand when I have to go in the hospital, especially my mother. She thinks it is not an illness after my last hospitalization. She thinks that if I just talk to her, all my problems would be solved. Trouble is, she doesn’t understand any of my problems nor understand that this is a chronic illness I have nor that I don’t want to talk to her, at all. If I can come up with a creative response to why I am in the hospital, that might be good but I am not that creative. I can’t bullshit my way out of a paper bag.

The other problem I have is packing a bag for the hospital. I usually don’t know where I end up so I have to pack as if I am going to a maximum lock down unit. Nothing that I can use to kill myself, obviously, but would be considered a sharp. If I get admitted to the hospital I was at last time, I will be ok because I can have access to my phone and cords for charging. But there is no guarantee that I will end up there and it is a long process! Not only do you have to wait to be seen in the ER but waiting for admission is longer. Last time I was admitted, I was in the ER for almost 20 hours waiting for a bed. And then it was a 4 am admit. Not kidding.

I generally dislike going to the hospital because the beds suck. It more like a cot than a bed. And admission is not long like it was. You will be lucky if you stay more than a week. It really is just a containment and babysitting service. And I don’t think being babysat is not going to help with my self-destructive thoughts. It might help me feel safer because I don’t have access to all my stuff that I can possibly use to kill myself at home. If I do get admitted for possibly two weeks, I will be screwed on discharge because my therapist and psychiatrist are on vacation the following week. Which means I will not have follow up care for two weeks post discharge. Not a good thing when you get out of the hospital. And I don’t know if they will keep me longer because I won’t have follow up care post discharge. Some times, they will keep you longer because you don’t have a close enough follow up appointment. And seeing as I am chronically suicidal, they generally don’t like a far away follow up appointment.

I don’t know what to do. I think I should be in the hospital but the issues of getting there are always a pain in the ass. Maybe I will feel better by Monday and the depression will lift some. Doubt it but it could happen.

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Agony

I got an email from my pdoc today. It was in response to the last email that I sent her, which seems like days ago now. I still am feeling crappy and I told her I was stuck in the black hole of depression. I left out the part of killing myself this weekend, which I might not go through with anyways. I got a lot of supportive comments last night and today with my last blog and that made me feel a little bit better. I was worried that someone was going to send cops after me, but they didn’t. I wrote a thank you comment and stated that my mood had shifted, which it has. My pdoc asked if I wanted to come in, which means in her terms go into the hospital but I told her I was seeing her tomorrow. I just hope that I remember to leave the house early.

It is going to suck tomorrow as I did too much today and my ankle is hurting me. I really need a rest day but I thought I could handle walking from my sister’s work and taking the bus home. I had the worst bus ride home. I thought I smelled because I forgot to wear deodorant, but it was nothing compared to this bus! I also was debating getting my haircut today so I can feel a little better about myself. I decided to get it, even though it meant walking a few more blocks home today. More pressure on my ankle than it wanted. And now I am paying for it.

I saw my godmother today. She is 89 and is not doing too well. For the first time since I have known her, she cried three times because she felt bad that she couldn’t do anything like she used to. She has to have someone with her all the time because the chance of her falling is great. I feel really bad. She got diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease a few weeks before her last birthday. She didn’t seem to be shaking as bad as the last time I saw her. But what got her upset was that she can no longer read the numbers to call people. I don’t know if it is because of her cataracts or just old vision. It was sad to see her sad.

I took my father for his doctor’s appointment. Three hours later, we leave. I was beyond pissed. No one was in the waiting room so I am not sure what the fuck the problem was. I hate my father’s doc with a passion now. He is always late, more than my own doctors, and he is just internal medicine! He isn’t a specialist! With specialists, you sort of expect that you are going to be waiting. It just really put me in a more cranky mood than I was in.

I am still struggling with typing today! I have misspelled so many words, it’s not funny! And it is pissing me off! But I am struggling with my suicidality still. I still want to come up with a will and write people letters on what to do with my demise. Problem with this, is that I don’t really know what to write. I keep procrastinating about it, so I guess that is a good thing because I can’t die if people don’t know what to do after I die. I am thinking of having my friend be the person to call my therapist and psychiatrist that I am gone. Thing that is killing me is that I know it will kill my therapist and psychiatrist to have me suicide. I have been with my therapist for more than 10 years and my psych 20. That is a long time to be with someone. And my psych deserves more than just a phone call. What exactly do you give someone when you are going to kill yourself? I don’t have a date set in my mind like I usually do. This time will just be random. And it’s not like I know what I am going to do to kill myself with. That is bugging me more than anything.

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Suicide is painless

Suicide is painless

I wish that statement were true. It would make my suicide planning that much easier. I have decided to end things this weekend. I don’t know if I will go through with it or if my pesky therapist will intervene and have me hospitalized. She is going to call my pdoc and tell her I am suicidal. I have been upfront with my pdoc all week. She knows the ups and downs I have been having. But she doesn’t know that this weekend will hopefully be my last. I am tired of living in pain.

I am thinking of all that I have to do. I need to write letters and leave instructions. I hope to mail out the books for my review. Kind of sad that I wrote a book about being an attempt survivor and then I kill myself. But I can’t worry about that now. I have decided to let my friend be the person to do the informing. To call my therapist and let her know I am gone. I tried telling her that today but she was so stubborn she didn’t want to hear it. Idiot. I will leave notes for my family. I know it is going to be rough for them. But I am tired of suffering all the time. I am tired of being suicidal and not acting on it. I just hope I can fool my pdoc Friday enough to get by so that I can do the deed this weekend.

I am so in the pit of depression, the familiar abyss. I still haven’t decided on a method to end my life. That is one of the problems with depression, you can’t decide things easily when you are faced with many choices.

I hope to be cremated as that is the cheapest and I want my ashes spread over my childhood place where all my thoughts went by Chelsea Creek. I hope my family carries out my wishes.

My therapist and pdoc are not to blame for this. I am a hopeless case. I am worthless and meaningless. It bothers me that I have known these people for more than a decade and I still am suicidal. I haven’t changed, I guess. Once you are suicidal, you always will be suicidal.

A cousin of mine from Virginia sent me an email today. He said he couldn’t understand why I think about suicide. And in response to that, I can’t think of why he values life. I just don’t understand why people want to live. There were two suicides today. One on the East coast and one on the West coast. The east coast had a jumper from a bridge. The west coast had a person who jumped in front of a train. I am sure there were other suicides today but those are the ones I know I about. Two random people lost their lives today and I am happy for them because I know they are no longer suffering. And soon, I won’t be suffering neither.

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wondering if it was all a dream

wondering if it was all a dream

I took yesterday off from blogging. I was in too much emotional pain to get my thoughts together. I emailed my psychiatrist today to tell her how I was feeling. I see her Friday but my last message to her was about how suicidal I was. I wanted to tell her that has lifted a bit but I still have a profound depression that is rearing its ugly head. I also wanted to let her know I got my fucking menses again. For the past several weeks, I have been dealing with the self-hate of being TG. Now having my menses are just fucking with me and my self-worth. I came pretty close to doing something this time. I had the suicidal impulses and that to me was scary. I didn’t do anything, other than take an extra Ativan to calm down the perturbation/impulsivity. Most of the suicidal thoughts are gone since I started menstruating, which isn’t supposed to happen because I am on pills to stop the fucker. But I still am in tough depression.

So I emailed my psychiatrist and told her, plainly, what was going on. I bet she probably figured out before I did that my suicidal tendencies were due to hormonal shifts. I did tell her the next time it happens, I might not be so lucky. One would think that because I have no job, that writing has become more than a hobby for me, and that I keep myself occupied, I shouldn’t really be depressed. MYTH! I could be deeply depressed even if I was working a full-time job. I know, I have been deeply depressed for years when I was working full-time. Now my writing has taken a little more of a hobby capacity. It has become my livelihood. You could say that I am living because I blog. But after a while, I can’t think of something fresh to write about and the depression hinders my thinking. I panic when this happens. I never know when a depressive episode is going to land me in the hospital. I know my hospitalizations have decreased over the years but I still need one a year, lately. It is just a way for me to recharge my batteries. I hate going in because it sucks waiting in the ER for a long time. I get bored and have to try not to use all the battery on my phone because reception sucks and it drains it all. I usually bring myself to the hospital because I don’t want my family to know. Should I be in the hospital because of this last suicidal episode? I don’t know. I am not feeling like ending my life as much as I did this weekend. My therapist was confused about the texts I sent her. It wasn’t a clear SOS. But then, I always become deceptive when I am suicidal. You can’t kill yourself if a professional knows the 411. Course, if I sent the same message to my pdoc, it probably would have landed me in the hospital. My pdoc doesn’t mess around.

I still wonder why I am still here. I should be dead with how heavy the suicidal thoughts were a yesterday. Course yesterday feels like it was ages ago. I am not saying I lost time. I was fully present throughout the day but now that I have my stupid menses, those heavy thoughts are no longer there and I am wondering if it was all a dream. Every time I get those experiences, I often wonder afterwards, was it a dream. But I know from the texts and blogs I wrote it wasn’t.

My therapist read the therapy and coffee blog that I sent her. She is a little embarrassed about it because I make her sound like a nut job. That wasn’t my intention. I asked her if she wanted me to take it down. She said no because I am free to write whatever I feel like writing. But now I am wondering if I should write a blog about lyrics and therapy. I worked hard on the coffee blog. I would hate to take it down.

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Therapy and Coffee

18-July-14

Coffee and therapy

Last night I read blogs about how a therapist lost a patient to suicide and how he got through it, two years later. It started to get me thinking about my journey with my therapist. Though this isn’t a linear story and is not about what went on in therapy, it is a story about how coffee brought me closer to my therapist and formed a bond that we didn’t know about at the time.

I was not always a Starbucks coffee drinker. Like many Bostonians, Dunkin Donuts coffee was sufficient. But once you have experienced a full bodied coffee, you can never go back to their coffee. My therapist’s office had an Au Buon Pain French bakery across the street. They sell great coffee. After having their coffee, I really couldn’t go back to Dunkin. I started drinking their coffee and found that I like it much better than Dunkin, even if it cost a little more.

A funny story about the Au Buon Pain coffee. Usually by mid-session I would be finished with my coffee and I would play with the cup, mainly playing with the protective sleeve by picking at the corners. During one session, it was getting intense, and I was playing with the empty cup. Some how the lid flew off in the direction of my therapist sitting across from me. We both laughed at the symbolism and meaning of with this lid. But I guess the lid meant more to her as she kept the it after session that day. It was just a plastic coffee lid to me but she found a treasured object. When we started exchanging gifts sometimes after my 30th birthday (my birthday falls near Christmas), I received the lid back with a corny message. She had placed it in a picture frame and on the back was the message. I am unable to find this frame at this time and I don’t remember what the lid said. I just laughed.

I have a sensitive stomach so it wasn’t too long before my gastritis would act up over my one cup of coffee a day. I think it was around this time that I switched to Starbucks. I figured I couldn’t go wrong with espresso diluted with milk. At first, I couldn’t tolerate the switch as it has been forever since I had a glass of milk. But after a while I got used to it and I am now a full time Starbucks junkie.

It didn’t matter what office we were at, there was always a Starbucks I could find. I swear I have an internal GPS Starbucks locator in my brain. When she first moved to Framingham, 30 miles from her Cambridge location, she said there weren’t any Starbucks nearby. I found two within two miles of her office. I would always have my mocha during sessions. During one session, the lid came off again and this time I spilled my drink on her fancy rug. I felt so bad. Starbucks had changed their covers to flimsy plastic and it didn’t fit right on the cup. This time, my therapist didn’t keep the lid.

I think I have consumed more Starbucks coffee over the years than any other establishment in my area. I now make their coffee at home, which further debilitates my staying in the house. But then, I will only drink Starbucks coffee. Occasionally and in a pinch, I will have Dunkins or Au Buon Pain or even the local convenient store coffee. I still have remained a loyal customer even though the price of their coffee has gone up over the years. I used to solely drink their espresso drinks, but since they out with the Clover system, which makes one cup of coffee at a time, I have gone back to coffee. It is cheaper than the espresso drinks. I have yet to try espresso by itself, however.

Through all the coffee consumption, I still have the same therapist. She has been with me for the past 13+ years. Next month will be technically our 14th year. I say technically because I had my first session with her in 2000 but because she didn’t take my insurance at the time, I couldn’t see her. When I changed my insurance the following year, I called her up and was happy to find that she still was accepting new clients.

Her vacation this year will be welcome. I need a break from her. It’s not that she is doing anything wrong, it’s just that I need some space. I know that I’ll probably write her letters while she is gone. I have always written her letters to say what I cannot talk about. Mostly I write to vent and then I forget what I write. They (researchers) says it’s a cathartic response. And most of what I write is cathartic. Of the more than 700 blogs I have written over the last two years since starting my blog, the only ones I specifically remember are the papers I have posted. The rest I may remember from a tag or title but sometimes, I have found, the title isn’t what the blog is about.

My therapist started her practice at the middle of Mass Ave in Cambridge. She moved down the street several times until her final destination was 30 miles away. Each move, I went with her. She could have stopped seeing me at any point in the consolidation of her practices, as she called it. Course it was very difficult when her final destination was Framingham. I don’t have a car so we communicate mostly by phone. I try to get my sister’s car at least once a month to visit her but it sometimes doesn’t work out because of my pain levels. And usually, I will get a coffee before starting the trip. It’s anywhere from 45 mins to an hour and a half from where I live to her office. It all depends on the traffic. And which route I go. I mostly go one route that is through several towns rather than go the direct route, which is the highway. The highway would be faster but I have had one too many tire blow outs and I am just too afraid now to go that way. It has traumatized me to the point I will only go if I have a very reliable car. My last tire blow out, I thought I was going to get killed because I was stuck in the middle of the road and a semi was coming in hot after me. Since that day I only use that highway only if I absolutely have to.

As much as my therapist is a “PITA” (Pain In The Ass), she is also stubborn. We will butt heads frequently about sessions to my safety. Since she calls me a suicidologist, I have often brought in tools to help with the suicidal thoughts and ideation. Before then, we just used with the “no harm contracts” which suck. Now we use a Crisis response plan. See this blog to find out more about it. It’s good I see a stubborn therapist. The only thing I hate is that she NEVER allows me to cancel a session anymore. I used to be able to cancel whenever I didn’t feel like going in. Those days are long gone. If I cancel due to a legit reason, say my father’s doctor appointment, I need to reschedule. We always meet twice a week. Very rarely do I see her once a week, though when my suicidality, peaks it could be three time a week.

There was one session I really didn’t want to see her. She called me and asked where I was and I told her I was home. This is after I canceled our session. She bribed me with a mocha to come to her office. Who does that?

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psychological pain and goal setting

I was looking over the stats for today and noticed someone read my therapy and therapists blog. For some reason, I thought it was clear that it was for psychology but someone made a comment about physical therapy and I had to go back in and change the title to therapy and therapists (psychological). I still don’t know what made someone think that I was talking about physical therapy.

Been having another rough day with pain, both physical and psychological. It’s a good thing that my therapist is off because it is the weekend or I might have to go the ER, and not for the physical pain. My thoughts have been very dark. I can’t see a future. I feel really bad and I don’t know why. I still want to kill myself. Been thinking about writing a note and some instructions on what to do after my death. I just haven’t done it because I am afraid if I take that step forward there might not be any going back.

If I were to take a psychological pain scale assessment, I am sure I would score pretty high on it right now. Everything in my being hurts. It hurts to breathe. It hurts to write. I wrote a blog the other day on a notepad that is five pages long and I still haven’t typed it up. It is about my therapist and coffee. I typed up a page and a half and then had to stop. It got too tiring to continue. My psychache is unreal and is causing me to think slower than usual. Thing is, even if I were to devise a plan to kill myself, I doubt I would be able to execute it because I have no energy. I am not perturbed enough to go through with it. All I can do is write about how much I am in despair and hope that it will pass. But will it?

All month I have been meaning to change my bedding. So far, I have been successful in cleaning off the “office” side of my bed so I can change the sheets. I figure tomorrow I might be able to finish putting things aside and changing the sheets come Tuesday. That is, if I am not in too much pain. I woke up early this morning in physical pain and I have been miserable all day. I fell back to sleep and woke up really late. Too late to make coffee. I haven’t had a cup of coffee in days. I think Thursday was the last time I had a coffee drink. I am in withdrawal as I keep having a low level headache. I hate when I wake up late in the day. It throws everything off. I hope I can sleep most of the day tomorrow. I really don’t want to do a damn thing, except for maybe going out for coffee. I can make it at home, sure, but that involves work. Granted it would be faster making it at home but I really have to type of the blog and maybe I can do that at Starbucks. I have to set some goals during the day or otherwise I feel defeated and hopeless. But again, it all depends on what my pain levels are like and if I have the motivation to go through with those goals. Right now I am feeling good that I got some stuff off my bed. I just take a one thing off a day, so this way I am not overwhelmed by the entire task. Otherwise I would be stuck in the depression and not be able to do a damn thing. But I don’t feel like going out tomorrow. And I don’t feel like making coffee. So I will just sleep the day away, just take my meds and sleep. Maybe then the pain, both psychological and physical will go down enough for me to face Tuesday.

Posted in blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders, psychache, suicide | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment