Month: February 2018

same shit, different day, again

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders

Same shit different day again

Today was the repeat of yesterday. I woke up in the middle of the night in pain, after sleeping for about 4 hours. The docs can shove this cream up their asses. It’s not helping me sleep in the least. It obviously isn’t helping my pain during the night. I am so fucking angry. I plan on writing them a note saying that this isn’t working. I just wish I could CC my PCP so he knows as well. I am also going to try and see this jerk (pain doc) sooner than 4 weeks as I can’t go on like this. I’ve waited four fucking months for this appointment and I’ll be damned to wait another month.

I’ve been eating since I woke up around 3. I had a pop tart, burger, and some fish. The fish was very good. It was my favorite kind, cod. My sister bought about 2 lbs and gave it to my mother to cook. She had paid like $14. The butcher shop that I went to wanted $12 for 1lb. I looked at it before getting my burgers. I did want to buy it but my mother said not to get it for that price. It was my money but my mother thinks everything should be less than 10 bucks or something. I don’t think she gets that things are no longer the price she grew up with. She was telling me when she was younger crabs, the whole thing, were a nickel. Now they are like $13/lb. Seafood has gone up because of overfishing. There are a lot less fishermen than it was back in her youth. Some of the fish isn’t even from the Atlantic but other places south or even in the Pacific, like Alaskan cod or salmon.

I really need to set some timer on my phone so I can use it less. I want to read more. This is the first week since Oct that I have no appointments. Hopefully, I can spend that time finishing Harry Potter. I think that will be my goal for the week. I am low on my Starbucks funds so I think I will go just one day this week. I have a reward for a free drink as well. When I finish reading Harry, I will try to do some writing with the story. It was weird that in the dream I had before I woke up this afternoon, it had my father in it and the people in it were reading my story. My father was in the emergency room for something and we were waiting to be seen. He was on a stretcher in the hallway. Then next to it was the kitchen of my house I grew up in. So weird. I always have these dreams that the doors to this house lead to my house or to some other place.

I bought the song Diane last night. I needed to listen to it on repeat. Cam’s voice is awesome. And every time I watch the video, I fall in love with her more. I started following her in Instagram and was sad to find out she is married. Not surprised as she is a knockout. All the good ones are either straight or taken. Oh well.

Fear of suicide (revision to blog of 6 Feb 2013)

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders, suicide

Fear of suicide.

This statement can be taken one of two ways. The first is that some people are afraid to talk about suicide for fear of sparking ideation or thinking about suicide. The second is that when
someone knows you are feeling low and have attempted before, they are afraid of losing that person and react in ways that may or may not help that person. Suicide attempters are at higher risk than non-attempters.

I’ll talk about the second interpretation first. I have a friend who is having me motivate her into
writing by having me contact her every day for six weeks. What sparked this was, she read my blog about my recent near-suicide attempt. Now her ulterior motive is to keep me alive the only way she can think of, by having me write to her every day. In return, she has to write at least two pages a day for her own well-being. She needs my help to pursue her writing, which is important to her more than anything. We are also guarding a human connection that is valuable to us. My writing keeps me alive, and because she doesn’t want to let me down, that helps her to write. She has this idea that people need human connection in order to stay connected to what they truly need to do, even if that connection is between polar opposites. She is bubbly and athletic, a motivational speaker, while I’m someone who is in chronic pain and disabled because of it.

I have to say that since I have been writing, I have been in better space. I would not say that I feel more connected, but I don’t want to let her down, so I try and write a little each day. Our rules are to email each other when we are done, and we are allowed our birthdays and Christmas off. For days where it is not possible for me to write because of whatever reason, we have given each other three passes on writing. Sometimes, because my pain or sleep deprivation is intolerable I find that it can help me be creative and write about things. I don’t have a censor when I write. Whatever I think at that moment, I write it out. Sometimes I find that writing it on paper helps more than writing in a word document.

I sometimes feel exposed because I am bearing my soul to this person I met through a friend on Facebook. We both belong to the same organization for suicide prevention. I am guessing that because she thinks of me as a sibling, and she did lose her sister to suicide many years ago, she does not want me to end up that way.

I write often because it is an outlet for me and my emotions. I am anonymous when it comes to my blog but not too much, as I pass these blogs on to my personal Facebook site, where my family members can have access to it if they were inclined to read it. Most often they do not because they are not online as much as my other friends are. I do not tell my family what I am doing. It would be heartbreaking and awkward for them to read what I write and then get asked at the dinner table what I meant by something I wrote. To be honest, half the stuff I write about, I forget. It’s an outlet like no other.

I am not going to lie and pretend that I don’t think about killing myself every day. It is a constant struggle, and I think that I worry a lot of my close friends who actually get to know me or who read my blogs about my struggles. But I think the reason why my blog has been so successful is because people can relate to what I write.

As far as the fear that talking about suicide can bring about a suicidal crisis, that is a common myth. Talking about suicide can actually prevent one, but some people are just not comfortable with the subject, and so they will say stuff that they think the person who is miserable wants to hear, like. “You have your life ahead of you,” “Don’t be so down, things could be worse,” or my favorite “You have so much to live for.”

People don’t understand the pain that is involved in depression or in thinking about suicide. I have problems. Quite a few. I have mental illness and chronic physical and mental pain. Both make me want to take my life. I have been thinking about taking my life since I was 8 years old. I was in a lot of pain for some reason or another, and it never got taken care of. Today, I think that pain stems from the fact that I am really a male and not a female. I knew at a young age that I was different, and back then, there was no expressing how I truly felt. I really think that if I had gotten help sooner, this would have come to light sooner, and I wouldn’t be in this pickle today about what to do with my transition.

I’ve started a new journal. And like every other journal before it, the first thing that goes into it is my crisis response plan which is the following (taken from the Air Force Guide to Managing Suicidal Behavior-Appendices)

When thinking about suicide, I agree to do the following:

Step 1: Try to identify my thoughts and specifically what’s upsetting me
Step 2: Write out and review more reasonable responses to my suicidal thoughts
Step 3: Do things that help me feel better for at least 30 minutes (examples can include trying to sleep, playing internet games, listening to music, etc.)
Step 4: Repeat all of the above
Step 5: If thoughts continue or get specific, and I find myself preparing to do something, I will call a suicide hotline or someone that I trust sometimes hotlines aren’t so helpful but calling a friend is
Step 6: If I cannot reach the above, I will call my therapist or psychiatrist
Step 7: If I am still feeling suicidal and I don’t feel like I can control my behavior, I will go to the ER or call 911

I have found having this useful when I have been hospitalized because it provides a plan of something that they need for discharge, and I always carry my journal.

painful and weary Saturday

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders

Painful and weary Saturday

I fell asleep around 0200 and then woke up around 4 in pain. I was feeling despair. Things just were so bleak. I was in so much pain and with the pain doc appointment flounder, I really was feeling like there was no point in going on. My friend in the UK was up as it was early morning for them. We talked for a couple of hours, until I made breakfast and then went back to sleep. I wanted to make a cheddar and American cheese egg burrito. It was really good and filling.

I fell back to sleep till around 11 or so. My mother was yelling and I couldn’t figure out if it was at someone in the room or on the phone. It was on the phone. She was talking to her sister and arguing over something. I woke up kind of hot so I took off my long sleeved shirt and then went downstairs to make a burger after I took my pain meds. My mother had come to the kitchen by then and told me what the argument was about. I really didn’t care but listened to her vent. I went upstairs after I ate. I got cold so put back on the long sleeved shirt. My foot was cold so I put it under the blankets and pain ensued. I decided to try the anti-inflammatory cream so put it on. My sisters came up to talk to my mother. I heard my sister say she was going to the grocery store and I went down to ask her if she could get some popcorn shrimp. She said she would. I went to the kitchen and made coffee. I had placed it on the table gently, next thing I know it’s tipped over and coffee spilled all over me, the table and floor. I was pissed. I had to ask my mother to help me as the glass had coffee underneath and I didn’t know how to lift it to wipe it off. Then I took a shower that I didn’t want to take. Needless to say, I washed away the cream. I went upstairs with my coffee and felt sleepy. I don’t know why coffee makes me sleepy but it does. I laid down for a bit after telling my mother I would make burgers for dinner.

I couldn’t get comfortable because my foot was hurting. I couldn’t take my pain meds because I had just taken them. I also didn’t know if I could put more cream on because it was on for about 20 minutes before I had to wash it off. I played with my phone and then got up to make some tater tots and burgers. I went downstairs and my mother said she was going to make muffin pizzas. She didn’t want a burger. I said fine. I made the burgers and tots. Then I watched a couple of episodes of MASH. I love the show. I have the DVDs but I haven’t watched them all. There are 11 seasons so there are a lot! It is funny and makes me laugh. I love Alan Alda, the lead actor. He currently is the only male actor to write, act, and direct a show for an Emmy.

I was feeling cold so went upstairs after the episode of MASH ended. My foot seized up when I was on the third or fourth step. Fuck. I am still hurting as I am writing this and I have been in my room for at least an hour. I took some more pain meds. A friend suggested a heating pad to warm my foot so I have that on right now. I hate when it is so damn cold, but it’s an internal cold, not necessarily external. It’s the stupid CRPS. I am so aggravated that all day I have been in pain. I hope I sleep tonight. I really don’t want another all nighter.

what a let down

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders

What a let down

So in case you are just tuning in, Monday I saw a pain psychologist who determined that I was not an abuser or misuser of medication as well as had the inclination to sell my drugs. It went fairly well and when I had an appt today, I was hopeful that the doc would prescribe me a longer acting pain med to help control my pain better. What a dud, total fallout. I met with a fellow who had an attitude from the get go. He went over the paperwork and even though I wrote in plain English I had two back surgeries due to cauda equina syndrome at different times, he still questioned what I wrote. It went downhill from there. Then the attending came in, told me a story of a woman he saw that was on crutches because of an injury to her big toe. He claimed she had CRPS but there was no clear presentation of it. Then he said I was the same as I had no clear physical presentation of the condition. I felt like he didn’t believe I was in pain, at all. He saw me all of 5 mins and then decided to prescribe me an anti-inflammatory cream, telling me to wrap my ankle and foot in a plastic bag after applying it to prevent it from drying. End of appointment. See you in four weeks. Meanwhile his fucking fellow says “doesn’t want to start me on opioids because they are hard to come off when started.” I was furious. I posted to my support group and then emailed my psychiatrist that I was once again let down by the medical profession. I think I was on this cream before, I can’t remember. So many docs have prescribed me different creams I can’t remember what worked. The lidocaine has helped and I am at a loss as to why I can’t continue to use it. Whatever. I am going to request my records of the pain psychologist and the doc I saw today to see what they wrote. Then when I see them, I will confront them with any discrepancies.

Before the appt, as I was walking to the building I had to be at, my ankle flared on me. I limped to the office. It didn’t get any better on the way home. I wanted to make burgers for dinner so went to the butcher shop. I wanted some fish but it was too expensive. My mother thinks I am the eggman, as she keeps wanting me to buy eggs every time I am out. They were expensive at the butcher shop and I wasn’t about to walk around the grocery store across the street. I wanted to get home.

The bus took forever. There was a crowd of people and it was causing me to panic. I don’t do well with crowds. Finally the bus came and I was on my way. I got off at my stop and went to Walgreens to pick up my prescription. I was just about to the door when my ankle flared again. I stopped, hoping it would pass. I limped down to the pharmacy and luckily there was no line. I would have died. I was walking toward the exit and again my ankle seized, this time was the final blow. I called my sister to see if she could pick me up. I knew I wasn’t going to make it the two blocks home. I still had no clue how I was going to make the burgers. I told my sister the dilemma and she said she had pizza. Problem solved. Burgers tomorrow. I had two slices. My ankle was throbbing the whole time I was eating. Because I was left in the cold exam room without my socks on, my foot is a block of ice. Going to take some time to warm up. I am not going to put the new cream on as that will not be a good idea.