Tonight I was going through my blogs and came across one called “Am I still a Midnight Demon”? I remember writing that one because at the time, I was writing during the day, not at my usual midnight hours. The time had shifted because I was sleeping regularly and wasn’t so suicidal.
Now my sleep is messed up and I am again thinking about taking my life. I have been thinking about this plan for a long time now. But as much as I want to go through with this date, this time, I just can’t. I cannot take my life because I am stuck here. I would hurt too many people, those around me, those far away from me, people I don’t even know that well. So I am writing because my heart is dark. I recently took a “Rorschach” type of test on the internet. It said that I was dark. My aunt had used that term after she read my book. We were supposed to get together for a chat but we never did. Typical of my family. They always make these plans on getting together but never follow through. No matter. The chat might have caused me to feel bad and I would have hated that. She would be one of the people that would have been hurt the most by my death.
I recently did a google search for a former therapist so I could send her my book and give her a little update on where I was. If she contacted me, and I was dead, that would so suck. I am not expecting her to contact me, but you never know. I hope she remembers who I am. I spent three years of therapy with her so I hope she does remember me.
I really feel at a loss. If I don’t go ahead with my plan, I will be forced to “live” and I don’t quite know what that means. I have been struggling with death for so long that I really don’t know any other way to live. My life, to me, feels worthless. I don’t have a future. Hell I can’t even imagine what will happen tomorrow and that will be happening in the next few hours. I know my sleeping problem is part of the reason I am depressed. I tried to convey this to my psychiatrist at my last meeting but I think I just made light of it and it wasn’t heard. I often say that I am depressed but really don’t tell her how bad things are. I still have appetite issues, even though I haven’t lost or gained any weight. I think my on/off appetite makes up for it. The caloric intake that I have equals itself out on my eating and not eating days, I guess. I feel useless, worthless, full of guilt at times. And you can’t forget about the psychache. Tonight I have had to take deep breaths trying to dislodge the heaviness in my chest. It’s like a heavy coat that I always carry but no one sees. I wish my psych had some magic pill I could take to make it go away but she doesn’t. Her hands are tied because I am such a fucking treatment resistant case. No pill has worked to alleviate my depression, successfully, for a long time. It was remeron that saved me last summer but I don’t think it is working anymore. Hell, I want to give up all my psych meds except my abilify and Ativan. But I know that if I do, I will just feel worse and might be impulsive enough to try and attempt suicide. I need to stay on the abilfy to keep the voices and other psychotic symptoms away. The Ativan I just need to take with the abilify to keep the side effects away. I also need the Ativan to keep the crazies away when I need sleep. It helps to shut my brain down enough so I can go to sleep when I am hyped up, for whatever reason. I don’t get hyped up too often at night but sometimes when it’s after 0200, I need the shut down. Otherwise, I might be up all night. The “crazies” are when the thoughts that are ruminating and I can’t turn them off. I often don’t know what to with myself.
I often think about what my death would bring. If people would be better off without me in this world. I sometimes feel like I am a burden to all that I touch. I hate living this life feeling this way. Nothing makes me happy or brings me joy. I always feel discontented all the time. The only thing that I value in my life is my writing, which sometimes I feel is useless ramblings. I got the brilliant idea of collecting these ramblings and making another book out of them. But then I thought, who wants to read about my suicidal feelings? It’s one thing to post this to the internet. It’s free. But having a book means someone has to pay to read it and not that many people would, I think. My words are meaningless.
I just started a book about shame and perfectionism. It’s a self-help book that deals with insights into what is causing shame. Author has ADHD. She talks in circles and it’s hard to follow her. I don’t know if I am going to get anything from this book but I have learned what has caused my anxiety with the few pages that I have read. I never had anxiety until I moved into the town I currently live in. And it’s because of change I get anxiety. Having a chronic pain illness changes you and I have anxiety because I never know when that pain is going to shoot up. The author doesn’t talk about suicide or suicidal thoughts. My guess is she veered away from that as much as possible. I seriously doubt that in the 20 years she has been practicing, no one has been suicidal at times. But then she doesn’t know me. She doesn’t know that part of the reason I want to end my life is because I cannot take the physical pain I feel nearly every day. Tonight the pain is way up there despite taking my pain medication. I might have to take the stronger pill to quiet it down. I just never know when and if the pain meds are going to work. The pain is from nerve damage that caused a pain syndrome. Most of the pain is physical because the pain meds usually do work but tonight I am feeling different kinds of pain all at once. And it is shooting up my heart rate causing me to feel panic. I think that I might get something known as Cauda Equina Syndrome again and it sets off my post traumatic stress disorder symptoms nearly every time. This change is what causes me to panic. I might not have a full blown anxiety attack but I feel really nerve racked. I try different things to get the pain under control besides medication. I write, I distract, I listen to music. I even talk to my “normal” voices. Sometimes that helps. Not every time, but it helps the anxiety more than the pain flare up. I don’t know if the anxiety that I feel jacks up my pain levels or vice versa. It’s hard to tell. I just know that since I developed this pain syndrome, my life has changed and it hasn’t been for the better. Another reason why I want to take my life. I just want the pain to end and if that means my life has to end, too, well so be it.
Another thing this author talks about is dignity. She states that it can never be taken away because no one can take it from you. How wrong she is. My dignity has hurt in so many ways from my pain illness it’s not funny. I have bladder and bowel accidents. Every time I crap my pants it hurts. My dignity takes a hit. It takes me days to recover from this. My bladder has leaked more over the last few months and I am so used to it that it doesn’t really bother me as much anymore. It’s still in the back of my mind, but it still reminds me that I am not a “whole” person anymore. Those days are gone, long, long gone. I have been dealing with this loss for nine years now. I wish I could say that it gets easier but it doesn’t. The smell always reminds you that you are not a fully functioning person anymore. I used to wear diapers when I went out for more than four hours. But now I don’t. It depresses me more when I take the diaper off and I have urine stains on the it. I don’t realize I leak because I can’t feel myself due to a nerve injury to my cauda equina nerves. They are the nerves in your back and control all the functions below the waist. I usually don’t drink enough fluids throughout the day because the more you drink, the more you got to pee. But some days I am just so thirsty that I need to drink, especially now that summer is approaching. It just sucks.