An Oxymoron

I had an interesting conversation with my psychiatrist tonight. She confirmed I am on the right meds and that comforted me. I told her I was a little hypo and she said to let her know how things go. She wasn’t going to make any changes and I wasn’t asking for one. These things need to ride themselves out, as I have learned over the years. Medication isn’t always the answer to every problem that you face.

My mood was all over the place today. I got really irritable and angry over someone’s comment that they left on my blog today. I don’t know why it bothered me so. I had a long conversation with the voices over this. It helped to air it out and once I did, I wasn’t as agitated. Then I got a stupid migraine and that made me scared. My face went numb within minutes and my eye felt like it was going to pop. I took my migraine pill and waited anxiously for the pain to subside. I had just started to read a research article when my eyes went blurry and the migraine started. I guess I will read that article tomorrow. I am not in the same mood I was in before the migraine hit. After the migraine subsided and I was feeling better, I read some more of Harry Potter. Hogwarts got me the escape I was looking for. Reading has been suggested by a doctor who does man therapy. If you look it up, it is pretty dumb. But men need something stupid to be able to laugh at themselves and break up their manliness. I know I do at times. I don’t know if his particular therapy has helped men but I took his suggestion of reading a book to escape to relax.

I also told my pdoc about my sleeping habits as of late. Three to four hours a night I have been getting, which doesn’t help someone with Bipolar illness. I am lucky I can sleep during the day to try and catch up but I don’t always. Sometimes napping causes more trouble. I never feel rested unless I have a six hour nap. I usually am able to get one over the weekends usually. I don’t know why that is. I tend to sleep better during day time hours than at night anyways. I am a night owl. The funny thing is, I was never really able to work a night shift. By 4 or 5, I was so tired that I needed sleep. And if I got it on my break, I usually slept for an hour, which was against the rules. One time I think I slept for two hours and my supervisor wasn’t happy. But I no longer work so I can stay up till whatever time and sleep all day if I want to.

Today is my therapist’s birthday so I will be texting her a lot. I will stop once she texts back a “thank you”. I can be a pain in the ass, too! She always makes a big deal out of my birthday so it’s payback.

My ankle is really hurting me for all the walking I did today. I have a bum ankle due to nerve damage that I got when a disc exploded in my back. The disc compressed the nerve that controls the muscles in my ankle and foot. I never was able to regain the strength in my foot after surgery. That was 14 years ago. If I didn’t get strength back in the first two years, I am certainly not going to now. What I am left with is pain due to a pain syndrome no one can identify. Some have called it complex regional pain syndrome, others have just called it tendonitis. But if it was tendonitis, rest and ice should have cured it by now and I have been resting it for three years. The pain has gotten a little better but on days like today where I was walking too much, it flares up and is hard to settle down without pain medication. I don’t know why they call it pain medication when the meds are supposed to relieve your pain, not cause it. Just an oxymoron, I suppose.

The article I was going to read before my migraine made it impossible was on the language of suicide. I am a suicidologist from the inside out. I love studying about suicide and read everything I can about the subject. I have the experience to go with it as I have attempted more than a few times. That is why I write this blog. It helps to write out my suicidal thoughts and feelings I am having in the moment. I know that if I don’t write about them, I am as good as dead. After I write my morose feelings, I usually send them to my pdoc and therapist, well sometimes just my therapist as I am afraid of sending them to my psychiatrist. I sent her a goodbye email once and that ended poorly. She sectioned me and I spent the next three weeks in the hospital. It wasn’t fun. The police came and when they couldn’t find me because the ambulance had already taken me to the hospital, they broke into my house by smashing a window. I was very upset. So I am hesitant to send my pdoc my suicidal writings.

It has been at least a month since my last writings. I haven’t really felt suicidal since I gave up the day I was going to kill myself. My therapist and psychiatrist were against the idea of me dying. Go figure. I still am angry with them for keeping me here. I had everything planned out, sort of. I knew how I was going to die, but I just didn’t know where. I didn’t want a family member to find me so that sort of kept me here. But the writing that I was doing before I gave up my date were my one outlet. Now they are gone and I don’t know if I will be that productive ever again.