A Pissy and Muggy Monday

A Pissy and Muggy Monday

I woke up at 0530 from a strange dream, which I do not recall presently. I had to use the bathroom and when I came back, my foot started hurting. I took a breakthrough med but didn’t want to go back to sleep as I knew I would wake up feeling like shit. I just laid down until my alarm went off. I didn’t get up. I just laid there until I had to get up. I took my morning meds then went downstairs to use the bathroom again and brush my teeth.

I checked my text messages when I got back to my room. I was hoping to have time to make coffee but the message said the bus I needed to take was delayed. Just lovely. I got dressed quickly. I decided to let the AC run to keep the room cool. I went downstairs and got a reusable cup and asked my mother if she needed anything while I was out. She didn’t and she didn’t call me back when I reached the stairs. I was barely awake and was putting stuff in my bag then taking them out only to put them back in. I have no idea what the hell I was doing. I finally got my shit together, put my sunglasses on, the Bluetooth on my phone, and left. Bus I was to take went by just as I was approaching the corner. If I “ran”, I would have caught it but then the light turned green and it took off. Oh well. Hope I didn’t have to wait long for the next one.

I got to my PT with a few minutes to spare, but not enough to grab a coffee. I graduated from PT for my groin pain. She was proud of me for sticking with the home exercises and making progress and actually doing more than I was doing. My thigh was not feeling good after she did the myofascial stuff she did but I fared okay. I left and waited for the bus. It was really hot and muggy. I was sweating and getting more pissy as I didn’t have a coffee. I decided I wasn’t going to go from the orange to the red line, but from the orange to green to red to go to my psych appt. I didn’t want to be walking around in circles at the orange line transfer like I did a few weeks ago. It worked as I was about 45 minutes early for my appt. I waited in the lobby and wrote in my journal. I had gotten coffee when the bus dropped me off at the station. Wasn’t the best but it worked.

I met with my psych and discussed the stuff I wrote in the emails, kind of. She wanted to know more about my mother. So I told her about the surgery tomorrow and my anxiety about everything. I also told her I was mad that the pain docs had once again dismissed what I wanted done. I told her I wanted the dose increased and she said they weren’t going to do that. So I am supposed to continue to plan my death and go through with it?? I didn’t tell her that cause that would have landed me in the emergency room. But I just feel like she is siding with them rather than me. I feel so angry. I am so fed up. The next time I see her is the day I planned my next death but I am not seeing her because I moved it up a week. Fuck it. I don’t care anymore. I am so done fighting all the fucking time and getting nowhere.

So next week when I get paid, I am scouting out the area where I wish to die and if it is feasible, find a good spot and return to it a few weeks later. I am done. I am not going to be around the rest of the summer. I don’t fucking care anymore. I will go through the motions like I am, live the double life and all. But other than that, I am going to write these damn letters and say goodbye to my friends and family. I guess that was why my psychiatrist’s letter was kind of easy to write. I no longer respect her as I once did. It hurts. But it taught me that you can’t trust anyone.