Crying because of despair
My ankle flared up earlier. Then my foot got cold. I was in a rotten mood because I couldn’t get food and because I am in pain. So I was sulking. But I had to take care of my frozen feet before they became more troublesome. I grabbed the thermal socks with grabber thingy and put my sock on my right foot first. Then I just casually hit my ankle with my knee to put the sock on the damaged fucking foot and holy fucking pain. I couldn’t believe I did something so damn stupid. I want to kill myself right then and there because there was no surviving this pain, not tonight, not any night. I just sat there stunned and it was the final blow to my moral.
I started crying. I just couldn’t help myself. I thought about calling my psychiatrist but I had already seen her and I didn’t want to bother her between sobs. I wasn’t in the mood for talking anyways. I was in the mood for death to strangle me and take me out of my damn misery. That didn’t happen. I am proof of this because I am writing this blog. I posted to Facebook I was crying and one of my friends was like so cry you’ll smile later. FUCK YOU. Smile? Really? That is a joke when you are suicidal right? Just snap out of it and you will. PLEASE. If it only worked that way, psychiatry would be out of business.
After a small while, my sister called me. She needed feminine products for her daughter. She didn’t catch the emotion in my voice and I was grateful for that. So I bundle wrapped a few and threw them down the stairs. My right ankle protested more than my left. WHAT THE FUCK. Now both ankles are hurting me. Score for me. Glad I told my psychiatrist I was safe to be home because oh yeah, I was going to kill myself today. Meanwhile I am thinking of ways of killing myself. I am overwhelmed with emotion, despair, fucking out of my mind. I take an Ativan because what else was I going to do. There isn’t a tree I can hang from. Besides, there would be a shit storm of snow to get by to reach the damn tree. And more snow is coming this weekend. Lovely.
I emailed my psychiatrist that I wasn’t going into the hospital Monday because it was going to snow Sunday and I wasn’t walking in the mess that I walked through today. It’s a miracle I didn’t twist an ankle. So Tuesday I will be admitted before my next meltdown really has me doing something I might regret. My only sadness is that I won’t have pain control like I have at home. I won’t have my strong pain pill to take while inpatient. I will have to make sure they give me my fucking regular pain pills on a schedule as a standing fucking dose because I will scream bloody murder if I miss a dose. And it better be two fucking pills, not one, two. Otherwise, I will fucking manage my way out of the hospital and kill myself by running in front of a bus or train or something. A semi might do too but they are infrequent around here.
My psych sent a response that it was okay with her for me to go in. She is also sorry she didn’t try my cake as she left it in the office. She said she will get it tomorrow so I hope to hear her review then. If my damn ankles weren’t hurting me, I would have a slice myself. It might help my mood. But unless my bladder is ready to explode or the house is on fire, I am not leaving my bed.