Frustrated and worthless

I had therapy today. We talked about my suicidality and the whole burden of being in pain every single day. I told her I just feel frustrated and worthless. I also told her that the voices have been telling me to die. That lead to a conversation about how much trilafon am I taking and I told her I was rationing it because I will run out if I take more than two a day, least until my psychiatrist is back from vacation. She nearly had a stroke when I told her. I don’t really care. I told her she should just dump me and she said no. She wanted my assurance that I wouldn’t kill myself while she was away and I said “yea”. That was all I could muster.

The session took a lot out of me. I pretty much just took my pain meds and slept the rest of the afternoon. Seems to be my new normal now. It was raining fairly heavily for most of the day so I didn’t venture out. My ankle was killing me anyways. I just gave up and let the pain meds take me to Morpheus. I had a dream about my father. We were at the hospital and then he disappeared on me. When I found him, he was sitting next to my mother. Odd. I don’t remember her being at the hospital but anyways, I found him. I was really late for my appointment because of him going missing on me. Then he had to go to the bathroom so I took him. Then I woke up. This has to be the third or fourth dream I have had of my father since he died.

I still am feeling suicidal and my therapist brought up that I should probably go to the hospital if the voices are out of control. She didn’t get that I don’t fucking care anymore. I just want to die and have this so called life over with. I didn’t tell her my plans, though I stupidly admitted I had one. I am glad she is on vacation for the next two weeks. She does want me to write to her in some form while she is gone. Maybe send her a blog or two to read when she comes back. Yea, she will not read it so I am not going to send it. While I was cleaning out my “junk” hamper, I found a notebook that said “Bozo letters” and the date. I might write in that and then when I see her the end of the month, give it to her. I forgot I started it three years ago. I think the intention was to write in the notebook and then mail it to her as I wasn’t seeing her in person at the time. How I would get the notebook back, I never quite worked out.

Sometime this week I need to change my sheets again. And again I have a pile of shit on the corner of my bed. I don’t know how stuff accumulates there. It’s not office stuff. That stuff is near me at all times. It’s just a pile of prescription receipts that need to be shredded and other pieces of mail.

The PT place called this afternoon to remind me I have the appointment on Friday. I had every intention of calling back and canceling but my sleep overtook the afternoon. Now it’s too late and I need to call tomorrow morning. I just hope I am up in the morning. My track record for being up before 10 or 11 hasn’t been good lately. I didn’t even make coffee today, I was so tired. I didn’t go to sleep till around 0400. I just couldn’t sleep last night. Pain was just too bad.

About G. Collerone

suicide attempt survivor writing about the hopelessness that accompanies depression that no one likes to talk about
This entry was posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders, suicide and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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