A bad night followed by a tiring Sunday

A bad night followed by a tiring Sunday

I had a bad night of pain last night. I was beside myself. I felt like going to the emergency room but I didn’t know which one would be best for me. It was after 10 pm so it would be crazy hour with drunks coming in and such. Or maybe it would be too early for them. I don’t know. I never went. I just took a strong pain medication and tried my best to sleep.

I was in pain and wanted to kill myself and I wanted to kill myself because I was in horrible pain. I got away this night unscathed. But I am wicked tired today. It hurts to think. I woke up around 0630. I could make a pot if I really wanted to but I think I will pass. I have been trying distraction as best as I can but it’s not working for me anymore. I am listening to music but it doesn’t help my mood. Nothing is helping. I am hearing voices again. They started off as British but now they are just remnants of conversations I have had with my father. It is very disturbing. Hopefully a little perphenazine will work.

Even if I did know what to do last night, I doubt my needs would have been met. That is if I knew what they were. I felt like calling my psychiatrist and asking her what to do. I just was in a bad place and pain was the chief cause of it all. I felt like I needed to talk to someone, someone that knew what I was going through and would be an understanding ear. There are few of those around on a Saturday night. My one blogger friend has started dating so she wasn’t available. My therapist certainly wasn’t available. I wasn’t having a neurological emergency so my neurologist was out. It was a combination of it being a med/psych emergency. And who really deals with that?? I wasn’t staring down a bottle of pills. I wasn’t contemplating hanging myself. I just didn’t want to be anymore. The pain and the “demons’ had collided. Not even blogging was helping because I couldn’t think of what to write. I was in a tough spot and needed someone to talk to that knew about chronic physical pain and being suicidal.
Right now my ankle is killing me. I can barely move it without pain. And I haven’t done anything. I guess two days straight of activity is a no-no. I wanted to change my sheets today but that doesn’t seem to be in the works for today. My mother is hurting too. She wanted to clean the kitchen floor until her back went out on her. I swear it is the weather that is causing most of our pain. I suppose I should call my father and see how he is doing but I really don’t feel like it.

But I finally found something to control my appetite. Kellogg’s mini frosted shredded wheat. I love it. And it has fiber so I have been going a little more regularly without pills, which is a bonus. Any thing that gets my bowels moving without a pill is nice. Now if only I can psych myself up to take a shower, that would be nice. I have gone almost a week without taking one. I think Tuesday night was the last time I took one, but don’t quote me on that. This sucks. I just took a couple of pain pills so I can take a shower. This is what my life has become and no one gets it. It is so frustrating to try and explain what I am going through and be heard. Sure my therapist gets it, but there is more worry in her voice than understanding. She will just go off about how many spoons I don’t have when all I want her to do is listen to me, not tell me what I already know.

The temp dropped over night. There is a chill in the air that wasn’t there yesterday. My mother had the damn kitchen door open when I got up to have breakfast this morning. I was freezing and I am usually not one to complain about the cold. But I was grumpy because I was awake and I was hungry. It was bad enough that I had to wear my slippers to go down the stairs. I really need to take a shower today. I think it will help me feel a little bit better. But it might cause me more pain and that is what I am afraid of.