Can’t die without explanations

“One can’t die without explanations”. Fyodor Dostoevsky p 513, the Idiot

This statement struck me tonight, in more ways than one. I think, this is the purpose of Hyde, to explain my death to people so they know of my suffering. I am very tired at the moment. I just woke up from a short nap and now I am in pain because I almost fell while getting up off the toilet. I lost my balance and fortunately, sat back down, but harder than I would have liked. My left knee didn’t like it much. I woke up with it hurting me. But once I started moving, the pain went away. Mysteriously as it came. Until I nearly lost my balance. Weird.

My back is hurting and I don’t like it. I can barely sit up. I keep thinking about death. I don’t want to live anymore. I know I have said these things time and time again, but it’s true. I don’t know what I am going to do when my date comes in the next few weeks and I am left all alone with my thoughts. If I don’t kill myself, it will be a defeat. If I try, at least I can say I tried. I won’t know if I succeed if I don’t try.

The quote is from a character in the Idiot, Ippolit, who has consumption (TB or Tuberculosis) and is in the last stages of the disease before death. He has been given just three weeks to live and keeps on telling people that he must tell his “confessions” before he dies. I feel the same way, though I don’t feel there is anything to confess. I have not done anything wrong. I just feel like a lowly human being that deserves to die. I am tired of the mental anguish I suffer day in and day out. I am tired of my physical pain that prevents me from working and “having a life worth living”. Today I drove and it cost me pain in my ankle. I don’t know why. I always feel this pain while driving/sitting for too long. It is a pain that starts at my ankle bone and goes into my foot. The pain is like a wrap that no one can see but I feel. They say it’s the peroneous tendon that is inflamed causing this pain. If you look at the skeletal structure of this tendon, you can clearly see how it goes from the ankle to the three damn toes of the foot. That is where I have most of my pain. The last three metatarsals in my foot. It haunts me like it does now. And I am in severe pain.

Aside from my transgender issues which will never be resolved, I have body image issues that are distorted. I am ugly, yet people have told me I am handsome and sometimes, cute. I don’t feel this way. I feel like I am very ugly that I will break a camera or mirror if I look into it long enough. I have a negative self-image. I can’t stand the way I look or how my body feels. I have a self-loathing so deeply ingrained in me that I doubt my therapist can ever get to the bottom of it. Having breasts is just one of the reasons I self-loathe. I cannot stand myself. I really want to die. I don’t want to breathe anymore. It hurts to breathe. I tell my psychiatrist this and she doesn’t think too much of it, about the hurting to breathe. But then, there is nothing she can really do about it. I am not in distress. My skin color isn’t blue. I am oxygenating very well. There are no obvious signs that there is a weight on my chest, unless you count the things that are there (breast tissue). But every woman has them and they don’t cause interference with breathing. No, I am not saying there is something pathologically wrong with me. I know that this heaviness is this depression that I feel. It makes everything heavier than what it should be. Probably why my knee hurts. It can no longer carry the weight that I have put on since my last hospitalization. I have tried to lose this weight but it is difficult. I eat the wrong things. But I eat the things that make me happy, like cheeseburgers, bacon, and ring dings. Not all the time. Just once a month when I get paid and can afford these things.

These things taste good when I am feeling up to eating them. Lately, my taste buds have failed me and nothing tastes good. I eat only because I need to, though I don’t enjoy it like I once did. Nothing brings me joy or pleasure. Used to be that I have a mocha from Starbucks and that made me happy. Now it just tastes like sugar and I don’t even taste the espresso like I used to. I feel like I am wasting my money on this drink. Maybe it’s time to try espresso by itself, but I am a creature of habit. I order the same thing all the time. It’s hard to break from that.

Today I was thinking about my diagnosis. Used to be that I had recurrent major depression, with psychotic features, NOS. Now I am depressed but it’s not under the same classification. Not that I need to know what it is. I don’t really care, but I would like to know if it is a bipolar depression that I am suffering. I had highs a few months ago, back in February. Those were lovely, though a bit terrifying. I am not used to feeling up. I am used to feeling down all the time. And this time I have hit an all time low. I think about death constantly and when I am not, I am dreaming of funerals and wakes. I often wonder, if I do have a wake, who will show up. I doubt I will get the same sympathy as a friend of mine who died from diabetes. People who die by suicide don’t get the same sympathy as other who die by illnesses. But that is a debate for another day.

My explanation of my death is this, I am tired of hurting, both physically and mentally. Physically, my pain is well controlled, though I still hurt every day causing me to be on medication to control it. Mentally, there is no medication for me. Sure I take my mood stabilizer and anti-psychotic pill to ease those symptoms caused by the bipolar and psychosis that I have. But it doesn’t help the mental pain, the psychache, the deep down to the bone ache that no one can see or feel. I have been struggling with this ache since I was 8 years old. I am tired of fighting it every single day. 32 years is a long time to be fighting something that no one else can feel or see or measure even. There is no test that my pdoc can give to see where it lives, where it abides. Sure, I know there are measures out there but no one uses them. My therapist has stopped using the psychache scale. I have even stopped using the psychache scale, not because it wasn’t effective, but because it just was a number that couldn’t be brought down. It was up and it stayed up, until my crisis was over. This time, I don’t think my crisis is going to be over. Hell, I don’t think I am going to last that long period. What the hell am I waiting for?? Why can’t I go through with it tonight. Fear. And that I don’t want my family to find my body. It will be hard to be dead by suicide. Harder still and more traumatic to find my body. I don’t have a place I can go to end my life. And that is really sad. So I just sit here and complain about why I cannot go on living knowing I can’t take my life because I have no place to end it. And that is the funny thing about my therapist and psychiatrist. They have never asked me how I am going to do it, where, when. I just tell them I am suicidal and they just leave it at that. They never know what my plan truly is.

Posted in Bipolar Disorder, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders, psychache, suicidality, suicide | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Morning musings

I had a long morning. I kept on waking up from 0430 on till my alarm went off at 0630. I didn’t want to get up but I had to if I wanted coffee and breakfast before picking my father up. His appointment went well. I then scuttled off to my therapist’s office/town. It took me a good hour to get there as I hit every red light from one town to the next. I was traveling the back roads rather than the highway. Once I got to my Starbucks, I tried to edit but my brain was dead. I saw the words but it wasn’t holding my attention. I was too tired from the early morning awakenings and the drive out there. So I just pulled out my journal and wrote. I wrote about how I had to end a friendship because she kept on choosing bad habits and I was tired of seeing her hurt. She wanted someone else to save her but wouldn’t do anything to save herself. At least meet me half way but then she did what she intended to do that last night and I had to cut her off. She is just too toxic and I can’t be part of her injuring herself. I tried my best to help her but she is just too far away from me. I talked about it in therapy. I really didn’t want to, but it came up. My therapist is glad that made a “wise” decision but it still hurts me. I hate losing friends that are troubled. But I guess you can’t save them all if they can’t help themselves. I thought I could but I can’t. I just am not strong enough I guess.

We also talked about my upcoming date. She was pretty anxious about being here for a week and then leaving me to my own devices. With the stuff going on with my friend, I kind of forgot my own troubles for a bit. But leave it to my therapist to bring it up again. We talked about Hyde and how he comes about, or not. We haven’t pinned down exactly what triggers him. I could be writing something grand and then he will come in and write something awful. I have no way of knowing. It’s making me scared to write anything for fear of the white coats being called on me. My therapist asked if one of the journals I had bought was for Hyde. Hell no. He isn’t going to be in a nice journal. He will be in a composition notebook. But the things is, as well as that sounds, there is no guarantee he will use it. He might just use a word doc or email someone in the dead of night. I have warned people that if they should get a message from me late at night to just delete it or ignore it. Trouble is, they have not done so. The best I can describe when Hyde takes over is that I am in a dreamlike state. I am vaguely aware of what is going on. I have intense feelings of pain, anguish, and despair. And I have an agitation to write something, anything, to express these “bad” feelings. I don’t know where Hyde came from. He is a part of me, I know that. But just like cutting is to my friend, so is Hyde to my writing. I have just swapped out cutting for writing and it’s with poison ink! Some day I know I might be hospitalized again for my words. And I am going to have no recollection of this happening. It’s like I stepped out, Hyde takes over, and I write. I am not malicious, except to describe how terrible I feel. My psych wants code words and my therapist wants a notebook. How am I going to satisfy both when I have no idea what is happening until the next morning. Because soon after my/his words are exhausted, I fall into a restful slumber and wake up thinking it was a dream. I am safe as far as I know. Hyde has never taken lethal action against me. I think the writing wears him out and then he is too tired to act on the feelings he is writing about. Either that, or the cocktail of meds that I take finally give in and puts him/me out. But what brings on Hyde remains a mystery, least for now.

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Random 399

I didn’t sleep good last night again. Same old story these days, except I kept waking up in pain. Then my father’s stupid PCP’s office called to confirm the appointment for tomorrow morning. I was afraid they were going to reschedule it and I was not going to be happy if they did. But all is good and tomorrow is going to be a long day as I got to be up around 0630 so I can get dressed and get my coffee before picking my father up. Maybe get some breakfast, too. I talked to my sister and I can use her car for most of the day, which means I can see my therapist tomorrow. I just hope the PCP appointment doesn’t take forever. I would like to get to my therapist’s town and do some editing. Course it all depends on how much sleep I get tonight. Usually when I have to get up early in the morning, I don’t go to bed till 2. Not going to be good if I have to be up four hours later.

I am hoping for a session with my therapist tonight but it doesn’t look likely. I just feel stressed out about a situation with my editor and need to talk it out with someone. I know she isn’t going to understand the problem that I am facing, but I really need to figure this out before I continue with my book. Finding another editor is not easy or cheap. Sure, I can do my own editing, but sometimes it is best for another person’s eye to look at something.

I haven’t done anything today but I need to take a shower. I haven’t showered in days. And I really haven’t eaten much today. My sister made some lunch. I had a few pieces of buffalo chicken that made my stomach a wreck so I don’t think I will be eating anything else today. I really wanted to try the new hamburgers I bought but I just am not looking forward to them. I am not sure if I am going to like them because I didn’t realize they had onions in them. Maybe I will make a deep dish pizza tonight, instead. You can never go wrong with pizza!

I am getting to the end of the “Idiot” finally. I feel bad for Myshkin. He is being treated so poorly. Everyone is just talking to him cursedly and then wants to be his friend again. Or they make fun of him and then make up. Sadly, I don’t think he realizes he is being made fun of. I should finish the book off today, if not sometime tomorrow, if I feel up to it. I know I am going to be tired tomorrow so if I don’t finish it tonight, then maybe Wednesday.

Seems like every fricken week I have medication that needs to be refilled. Just when I think I am stocked on everything, I run out of one of my medications. It is so annoying. I just get annoyed because the pharmacy staff knows me so well. I am there almost every week with something. I am almost out of my baclofen and Ativan. I keep them in business. I have a few days before I can refill my Ativan so I will just wait. I have to wait till the 3rd to refill it. I just hope they have my baclofen in stock. Last time, I got a partial refill. Nitwits gave me just 15 pills of the 90 they were supposed to give me. I don’t know why they even bothered to fill it. It’s so stupid. But I think I better refill it now in case they have to order it as the holiday is this weekend.

I am still thinking about suicide, though the thoughts have been oscillating the past few days. Sometimes they are very intense and others they are barely audible. I still haven’t give in to the thoughts of coming out to my mother. Though I have no idea how I am going to do it without the support of my sisters. It’s really killing me inside to have to continue to live this way, in a family with no support, well, emotional support. I never ask for much and usually keep my problems to myself.

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Sunday Blog 4

Sunday Blog 4

I had a crappy night sleeping again. I woke up around midnight and didn’t go back to sleep till around 4. I hated it. Then my phone decided it was going to beep every few minutes after nine. It was stupid text messages from the T saying that this and that bus was running late. I don’t fucking care. I am not using the system today! But there is no way to stop the messages from coming in, unless you totally want to stop the service. And I don’t want that because I need to know if my bus or train is delayed when I need to use it.

Since getting up late, I have been doing nothing but eating. I had some pop tarts for breakfast and then I had a steak for lunch, two hours later. I haven’t eaten anything heavy, just some cookies and pasta salad but I feel empty. I don’t know if it’s emotional eating or what, but I hate it. The steak I had was a decent size piece. And I ate it all. It was very good. Now my brother in law is calling asking if I want some of his pork. I declined, politely.

I didn’t think I was going to blog today because I am so sleepy. Sundays are really my down days because I don’t usually have anything planned. I filled my med box for the week. I also got my Otterbox but can’t figure out how to get the sucker open to put my phone in it. It is really annoying me. I think I got the sucker on right. It is the right case and the buttons work so I am happy. Now I can relax on dropping my phone, accidently of course.

I realized last night that I never finished the review of the psychache scale that I started. I guess I really dropped the ball on it because I even forgot what the name of the document is called. I don’t know when I will get back to it.

Yesterday, I put up some lyrics about how I was feeling at the moment. The song was by Blake Shelton and the song was called “Don’t make me”. One of the lines was something like “If I am gone, I’m gone that’s that”. I normally write these on Twitter because I don’t get any back lash. Instead I wrote it on Facebook and OMG the responses were so serious. Fucking A. It was like I was writing a goodbye note or something. I hate it when people don’t get lyrics. Course, no one listens to the music I listen to, so it’s no wonder they are clueless. Just pisses me off when I have to explain things.

It’s like when my psychiatrist wanted me to write some code about my midnight writings to her. She felt that might help ease her anxiety about my darkness. But honestly, I am never aware of what I am writing in that state of mind. I am most of the time in a dissociated state. And really wonder if it really happened when I wake up the next day. There is no way I can put in a code word because I am not “with it” to do it. I know that she would like that but I am not there. And now I have to keep my phone on in case she does call me when she reads my writings. I hardly shut it off anyways, but it would be nice to shut it off once in a while. Like this morning so I wasn’t interrupted with text messages! There is a “blocking” feature on my phone but I am not sure how it works. I can set it up, in theory, to let only certain people call. I probably need a tutorial on it from the Sprint store so I don’t mess it up. It would suck if I blocked the wrong people, like my psychiatrist or therapist!

Ankle has been hurting today so I have not been in the best of moods. I am so tired of dealing with pain all the time. Normally, I can handle it. But when my sleep is off, I am more sensitive to it and it messes with my mood. It’s just another thing that I just can’t handle. It’s just an annoying kind of pain today, nothing that I haven’t experienced before. It is just annoying the crap out of me because I haven’t done anything to really warrant it hurting me. I have been sleeping most of the day so I don’t understand what its problem is.

My therapist still wants me to see her. I am going to try and take my sister’s car Tuesday after my father’s doc appointment and go to her office. It all depends on if my sister needs the car or not. I am hoping not.

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Saturday Blog 25

Saturday Blog 25

Today is my nephew’s birthday party. He will be 21. I don’t know how this happened. One day he was snuggling in my arms. The next, he is an adult. I had to leave the party because my aunts do nothing but yell and scream at each other. Mostly it’s about who is right and who is wrong.

I am very tired today, though I did sleep through the night. I think yesterday’s excursions really took a toll on me. I literally was out of the house of the house for at least 12 hours. I haven’t been out that much since my injury. It was good to be out, but tiring. My ankle wasn’t happy last night but that was to be expected. I am just grateful that pain didn’t keep me up all night. Just took my pain pills and I was out.

I got a mass tweet this morning. I hate those because the retweets blow up my phone. It was telling me some paper was out. I had a look and lo and behold, my love/hate blog was there! I was so excited. It was at the end of the “paper” but it was there. So far it hasn’t generated any new views on my blog. But then, I am not expecting it to. I have no idea who this person was that created this paper. I don’t even follow him/her. It was just strange.

My groceries came this morning and after my nap, I finally had my Ring Dings. It was so good. I really could just feast on the chocolate alone, forgetting about the cream. I realized some time last night that I forgot to order bacon. Now I am going to have to go to the store and buy it. I hope that it is on sale. I had bought my mother mushrooms as they were on sale. Then she tells me she gets them for $0.99. I can never win with her. I have my steak that I will cook tomorrow. Now I am stocked with groceries for at least a few weeks.

My mood hasn’t changed. I still feel depressed. I really want to go back to sleep, and I might. Screw the party. I hate parties anyways. But it is my nephew so I have to make an appearance or two. I just wish I didn’t feel so lousy. I emailed my doc about vit D and whether that would be a reason why my mood has taken a nose dive. I haven’t been keeping up with the supplements. I just forget to put them in the pill box. I also need to get some more as I am running low. I have deficiency, which is why I take the supplements.

Vitamin D is an important vitamin. I used to be able to get on my soapbox about it but it has been a long time since going over the specifics about why this vitamin is so important. Lately, the research hasn’t been so positive as it was, but deficiency is rampant in the US. My belief, is if you have a deficiency, you should always replenish it because you may not know what ailments it is causing. You might actually feel better. I know that since taking the vit D, I haven’t had any chest colds or bronchitis. Immunity is one property of D. I did research with this so I know. I won’t go into specifics because it is kind of complicated.

My doc just emailed me back. She says it couldn’t hurt to restart it. So I will start taking it tonight. It might take a while to get my levels up. D is a fat soluble vitamin so it takes time for the levels to build up, even if you take the prescription form of 50,000 IU. I don’t take that much. I take 2,000 IU/day. My last levels that I had done was quite awhile ago. It was in normal range but I like it to be close to 50, which is half way between low and toxic.

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Friday Musings

Friday Musings

I had my appointment with my pdoc today. She was very concerned about me and asked if she should put me in the hospital. I told her no. She then asked if there is a way for her to know that I am safe so that she doesn’t get concerned about Hyde’s writing, like using a code word or something. I told her probably not because most of the time, I am dissociating so am not aware of what I am writing. I brought everything out in the open, the date I planned on dying, etc. I was expecting her to call security but she didn’t. She is keeping a closer eye on me.

Here is my favorite actor talking about mental illness and depression and how he got through it. It made me cry.

Today, history was made with the legalization of gay marriage in ALL 50 states. I didn’t think it was going to go through. I seriously had my doubts. But the ruling stands and there is nothing anyone can do about it. So if people want to burn themselves, divorce, whatever, do through with it and see if I care! I can legally marry someone in my state (I could anyway but it wasn’t legal/recognized in others). I should be happy but the depression is making me sad. I have been sad all day, even upon hearing the news. I am still suicidal but I can’t kill myself. I am wicked frustrated over this. I don’t know what gets me through these episodes.

I saw some Twitter friends tonight. We talked for a few hours about lots of things, but especially about suicide as that is where we all met, the SPSM (Suicide Prevention SoMe) chat. It was nice sitting and talking about things.

I am beyond exhausted between leaving the house this morning to see my pdoc and then coming home, having lunch, then going back out again to meet up with my friends. Tomorrow I might be hurting big time but it was worth it.

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Hyde Musings

I was literally up all night. I went to pee around 0130 and that was it for me. I was up. I tried to go back to sleep but failed miserably. I didn’t go back to sleep till around 5ish. I am totally exhausted. Last thing that I wanted to do was have therapy but I really needed a session. My days are so messed up I was thinking tomorrow was Saturday. It’s not and I need to see my pdoc.

We talked about Hyde and how to deal with him. She wishes we were meeting in person so we could try and engage him more. Very doubtful as he only comes out at night. Very rarely or never have I “dissociated” during the day with him. It’s always at night, after 2100. I don’t know why he is coming out more. I told her about the email I sent to my pdoc that caused her to call me. I also told her that I am planning on killing myself during her vacation. She said I had to put it off. I don’t think it is going to be that easy. I told her to pick a date and she did. Oct 30th. She thinks that is my new date, but I don’t really know if it is or not. Only time will tell. We talked about the hospital but I am against it for many reasons. Yes it will keep me safe but I am not in danger. I am in more danger right now because I am vulnerable and I am wicked tired. Throw in some suicidal thoughts, and I am in. I told her my thoughts don’t mean actions. She suggested that I create a “Hyde” notebook to write in when I am in that bad agitated space. But Hyde doesn’t want to stay hidden. He writes with a purpose and to someone in particular. I guess you can say he is crying for attention, but the bad kind, or rather the severe kind. The kind that could get me sectioned. I see my pdoc tomorrow and I am going to try to stay out of the hospital. I know that if I don’t stop emailing my pdoc these horribly suicidally, depressing emails, I am going to end up there. It has happened before. That was why I created this blog, to write freely my suicidal thoughts so I don’t “bother” or burden my treaters with these thoughts. But lately, this blog just hasn’t been working the way that I was hoping. Maybe I should just be writing more blogs instead of letters/emails. I don’t know. My therapist knows that Hyde cannot be ignored. I wish I could say that he is harmless but the stuff that he writes makes me believe it. I am usually horrified the next morning. I just can’t believe something so dark comes from me.

I am going to give the notebook thing a try. There is no guarantee that it will work. It would be easier to just write a word doc and call it “Hyde musings” or something. This way I don’t have to a) read my handwriting and b) type up what I wrote for my therapist to analyze. Something needs to happen. If I dissociate while writing, god knows what I will do. Half the time, I am not even aware of what I am writing. Soon as it is written, it’s out of my memory banks. That is why I wrote the blog with my pdoc’s email. Maybe my pdoc has some ideas of what to do, but I know that medication is not the answer and neither is the hospital.

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Times Have Changed But My Suicidality Has Not

I woke up because of having to pee and now I can’t go back to sleep. My room was freezing so I turned off the AC but then I realized, if I went back to sleep, I would wake up hot. So I have the AC on energy saver and hope the turning off and on doesn’t disrupt my sleep too much.

I am kind of in a dark mood. I just bought three journals because I needed them. The ones that I have are half way filled and I know by the end of the year, I will need a new one. I like the ones I bought. I am glad Barnes and Noble has such large journals. I do a lot of writing, in case you haven’t noticed.

I read one of my journal blogs that I wrote back in 2014. It was an entry that said that I cut myself and I went on about how scared I was that my therapist was going to flip out. I also didn’t want my psychiatrist to know because I knew it would cause her concern. The weird thing is, I don’t remember the incident at all. I had cut because of my TG issues. Now I am just suicidal. I have been struggling with this for months and I can’t seem to walk away from it. Like I wrote to my psychiatrist, I think there is a chance that I will go through with ending my life in a couple of weeks. I want to try it anyways, even though I know I am not going to like doing it. Suffocating oneself is difficult to do. But it’s the only means I have available to me. Worst thing that can happen is that I will be found before I am dead. That is my fear. And if that happens, I could have brain damage from lack of oxygen. That fear of being brain damage really wants me to stay away from this method. But it’s not like you can just buy arsenic pills on the internet like you used to. Maybe you can. Google hasn’t been much help in this arena. Even buying hemlock juice has been tricky. So I have come to the simpler methods that I have on hand.

I want my pain to end, permanently. Funny how I am writing about buying journals to write with and yet I want to take my life. How will those journals be useful to me? Most likely they will just be donated or given to my niece after I am gone. I am not sure what will happen with my things. Trash most likely. I haven’t written a will. I still have time, though I am not looking forward to it.

Since writing to my psychiatrist, I am afraid to write to her anymore. I don’t want to get a phone call after an email because she is concerned about my safety. Literally, she sent the email and within ten minutes she called me, after I sent the email the night before. I am so tired of worrying her and my therapist. Both want me to live. A lot of people I know want me to live, but how can I do that when I want to die so badly? I have been following the zero suicide academy postings on Twitter the past 24 hours. Jobes was there giving a talk about evidence based treatment. DBT, CBT, CAMS, and non demand follow up were among those shown to help decrease suicide. It got me thinking that maybe I should try to see another therapist to help with my suicidal feelings. Only problem is, money. I no longer have the money for copayments and I am on Medicare which only covers 80% of the visit. I would be responsible for the 20%. I wrote to my consultant last night. I gave him a blog reading of the “Love/Hate” that I wrote. I know that he would be interested in reading it. He was always curious about the relationship factor between my therapist and I. Now he will know in greater detail.

I follow suicide prevention because I am hoping it provides me with something to help my own suicidality. I don’t feel hopelessness. I think my depression would be 10 times worse if I were hopeless. I just feel so down that I just want it to end. I really think that if I try and see someone new, maybe they will provide me with some insight that I am missing. But ultimately, the choice is mine. No one can stop me, though they can try. I don’t think going in the hospital would be in my best interest. All they do is babysit you for 24 hours every day and drug you up. No real treatment exists in the hospital anymore. It’s not like it was back in the old days, where treatment and care were more important than containment and safety. I literally had to beg to be kept in house because I told them I was going to kill myself when I got out. Their response, “You are putting us in a difficult position”. I kid you not! And this was at a world class hospital! I won’t go there again. I won’t be subjected to non-treatment. Besides, the only ones that really cared were the nursing staff members. They took the time to get to know you and try and help you deal with shit. More so than your “treatment team”. It has been almost 11 months since my last admission. I like to say I am doing well staying out, but am I? They call you “stable” if you are able to stay out of the hospital for at least a year. How stable can you be if you think about ending your life every day? I just am not impulsive to act on my feelings every time I have them. Some people have not learned that self-control. I learned the hard way. I learned to keep my feelings to myself or I would have ended up in a state ward. This was twenty years ago. And times have changed.

Posted in Bipolar Disorder, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders, psychache, suicidality | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Random 444

I had to resort to wearing my old bifocals because I was too lazy to go down the stairs and get my single lenses at the 1st floor. I am wicked hot and exhausted after I picked up my niece. I need to cool down some before I do anymore stairs. And besides, my ankle is not happy with me right now. I have been out of the house since a little past 8 in the morning because I wanted to get my haircut before my doctor’s appointment. I didn’t get the same stylist so I got a much different cut. I still like it but not as much as my last cut. This cut just looks like I have a whiffle.

I meant to call my father today so he could pick up his prescription but it got to be too late. I will just pick it up for him tomorrow when I see him. His asshole PCP’s RN never called me. I had to call the pharmacy to see if they called it in. I have only been waiting three days for a phone call that never came. Jerks.

Last night, I had a rough bit. I am only going on about 4 hours of sleep. I am so tired. I might have a nap now that I don’t have to do anything. Except go down the stairs and get my glasses. I can’t believe I left them down there. I have been texting my therapist my mood status updates. I told her to call me if she has a chance. I don’t think it is likely. We are talking tomorrow but I really want to talk to her today, if possible. I don’t know what she can do but at least it might calm me down some. My thoughts are all over the place. One minute I want to take my life, the next I don’t. It is getting tiring fighting these feeling all of a sudden.

I also been getting pissed at seeing an article on pain saying “instead of reaching for a pill, play your playlist”. Apparently there was a study, among children who required major surgery and they offered music as an alternative to pain medication. The results were positive. But these were children, not adults. I certainly will not benefit from listening to music rather than taking a pain pill. And if anyone suggests that to me, I am going to tell them to go fuck themselves. I have tried coping with the pain without pills and it gets me no where but stuck. I then have to take more medication to get it down to a tolerable level for me. And I do this while playing music. I don’t listen to with it with headphones. I am alone in my room and so I am not going to bother anybody. Besides I need to also listen to my mother in case she falls or something so headphones are out. I do notice that I am a lot more calmer when I am listening to music than if I am not. It doesn’t take all the anxiety away but just enough so it is tolerable.

I took a shower last night so I didn’t have to today but looks like I am going to because I am all sweaty from the fucking heat. Yes, I am complaining about the heat, shoot me dead. I don’t fucking care. I never complained about it being cold, except for when my room was forming icicles and I couldn’t get warm with added clothing AND being under two blankets.

I am going to get my new glasses done Friday. I would do it tomorrow but I have too much stuff to do. Just running around with my father and then picking up my niece is going to be enough. I just hope my ankle holds out. I bought my father his Father’s day present today. Hopefully, I remember to bring it tomorrow. As long as I am not rushed, I should be ok. I plan on going another way to my father’s so it should be ok. I am glad there are multiple ways of getting to my father’s house because taking one bus all the time can be boring and time delaying, like it was last week. I just barely made it home for my therapist to call me. I was half way home when she called. I don’t want a repeat of that again.

I want to get an estimate on how much these glasses are going to cost me. I will just be paying for the lenses, not the frames as I already have those. I just hope they are able to do the work or I will have to find another place. I am not paying for another set of frames when I have a perfectly good one that is less than a year old.

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Dark Moments

Dark Moments

My psychiatrist called me tonight after the email that I sent her. Here is what I wrote:
“things aren’t any better. I feel like all I am doing is going round and round on a guinea pig wheel. I am so tired that I can’t stop. Fatigue has hit me hard and fear the demons might come out tonight. I just wish this would all end. I’m tired of fighting the same battle with the same result. Bozo is going on vacation soon, for two weeks. I plan on taking my life the first of the two weeks. I just feel like a failure if I don’t try. Course I might be a failure if I do. I haven’t been too successful in either department. I still am getting heaviness in my chest. It’s like this invisible weight comes out of no where, pushing me down. Sometimes I can’t breathe. It’s not like a panic or anxiety attack. It’s just psychache that is very heavy. I don’t know if I am making sense”.

She wanted to know if I would still be seeing her on Friday. I said yes and I will be sporting a new haircut. This is how psycho I am. I am talking about taking my life and yet I want to get a buzz cut. I feel really anxious and I know it has to do with her call because I am so nervous. If she didn’t get in touch with me, I would be sectioned right now. She really was concerned. I told her something just gets a hold of me and I just write these things. To me, they are just words on a computer screen. They don’t mean anything to me, but when someone reads them, it is cause for concern. I don’t understand it. I know Hyde is responsible for some if it. I know he has been out more. Whenever I am dealing with TG stuff, he comes out more. I don’t know if I will be in the hospital or not. I am hoping not because Hyde won’t come out. I don’t think I am in danger. I just write my dangerousness out. I don’t think I will act on it, as much as I really want to.

These dark moments really get to me, after the fact. While I am writing them, they feel normal and translucent. It’s like I am not really writing them. I vaguely remember them in the morning. This is the second time that my psych has called me after sending her a terrible email of my dark thoughts. I try not to send them to her because I know they are cause for concern but I just can’t seem to hold back. She wants to know how I am doing so I tell her, honestly and truthfully. I know I probably should hold off sending them to her but I always hit send instead of save. I don’t know if I wrote on my laptop or if I sent it by my phone. The phone is easier to hit send than save.

I just feel like I am wasting her time in her trying to save me. I am just so miserable. There are no medications that she can give me to ease my pain, my psychological pain. There are times I just want to overdose on everything that I have to ease this pain, this psychache. But I don’t do it because I don’t want my mother to find me like that. I need to really do something about this. But I don’t know what to do. How do you cope with demons?? These are more than just dark moments. They are pure suicidal moments and they might just kill me.

I just filled in, the best I could via text message, to my therapist. I told her to call me today. I really need her assurance I am not losing my mind. Or if I am losing my mind, what we are going to do about it. I really don’t think going in the hospital is gong to help me. It never does. It sometimes makes things worse because I get frustrated. I just don’t know what to do. I wish there was an easy answer but there isn’t.

Posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, chronic physical pain, mood disorders, suicidality, suicide attempt | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment