Psychache Returns

I wanted to go out today but it didn’t happen. I didn’t sleep good last night and I was really tired. Plus a friend was coming over the house and I wanted to clean up a little bit. Another reason I didn’t want to go out is that my damn bowels were unpredictable today. I kept on getting cramps but nothing would happen. Nothing, not even a fart. And the cramps were bad. Pissed me off that I was held hostage in the house because of this. I couldn’t risk going out and have my bowels act up on me. I wouldn’t be able to hold it due to my nerve injury.

I had therapy today. My therapist wants me to write when I feel the “fuck its” come on and/or use the crisis response plan. I don’t know why she wants me to use the response plan. I am not in crisis when the fuck its hit. I just don’t want to do anything. I want to stop taking my meds. And just hide from the world and think about death. I really wanted to die last night. I don’t know why as I was having a relatively good day. But sometime after 1800, my mood went from being okay to being suicidal, just like that. I was listening to Taylor Swift so it wasn’t her music that was causing me to be depressed. Her music does the opposite. It was like the bottom fell out and I was back in the black hole of depression. It was so bad, I was paralyzed with my thoughts. I couldn’t even call out on Twitter or any social media platform. All I could say was that I was a shitty writer and that even though I sold three books the first of the month, I couldn’t feel any joy. Then I tried to think how many books I have sold and couldn’t remember how to run a report to figure it out. When I finally did, it turns out I am well below my goal of 100 books. I will need to sell 50 books between now and April 10th. I don’t think that is likely. I have decided to keep an excel file from now on.

I am back in the abyss of depression. I don’t want to do a damn thing. I have no motivation to finish typing my story. I keep looking at my bag that has the notebook in it. But I have yet to get up and get it, even though it is only a few feet away. I just keep procrastinating. I am glad I don’t have a deadline or anything. I would so be in trouble if I did. The pain in my chest is back, but it’s not the same kind that I felt the other day. This pain is constant and is psychache. It is making everything difficult. I can barely breathe at times. It just takes the wind right out of me. It drains me of energy. It makes me think of death and self-destruction. Lately, I have been wanting to write suicide notes and letters. I haven’t done it because I fear that if I do, I will end up killing myself. I still have to have someone I trust take care of my social media accounts, mostly just Facebook and Twitter. I don’t care about Google+, Linkin, or the others I have signed up for.

My thoughts are once again dark. I thought I was getting better. I don’t understand what happened. But these feelings always come back, harsher and more terrible as I get older. I often wonder if I am being undertreated for my condition but I know my psychiatrist has done the best she can for me, pharmacologically and supportive. She has always been the rock I depend on. I also know that I wouldn’t be here if my therapist wasn’t so damn stubborn. I just have treatment resistant depression. The only thing that has not been tried is ECT and TMS. I won’t have ECT because I am too afraid of the memory loss. If anything, I value my memory more than my life and without it, I might as well just be dead. TMS I don’t know why I haven’t been given this option. It is just magnetic stimulation and has had good results in some people. Course, I have been out of the research domain for a few years so I don’t know much more about it. I know they perform it at the hospital I was in as an outpatient.

I just feel really crummy, like my heart is falling out of my chest. The pain that I feel is tolerable right now. It’s nothing that I have not been through before. It is when it becomes intolerable I really am in danger. But my moods have been fluctuating lately. One moment they are deep, dark and then the next they are out of control and all I can think about is death to relieve myself of the misery I am feeling. Thinking about death has always been a solace for me. It is the constant reminder that I have the option of ending my life whenever I choose.

One thought on “Psychache Returns

  1. So I seriously didn’t want to “like” this post, but wanted to acknowledge that I “like” the fact that you are writing your darkness out, even if it’s not the story you want to be working on. Maybe this is just your minds way of telling you to write your personal narrative instead? Keep letting out and know that you are not alone. Hugs.


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