A lot has happened this week. Tues I had therapy. I thought all that day that it was Monday, even though I knew I didn’t have an appointment that day. Because I didn’t have much of a voice, I had written out what had transpired since the last time I saw her. After she finished reading it, she wondered why she didn’t get notified that I was in the emergency room. I thought that was weird and said so. She said some providers get notified. Ok. Don’t know why a psychotherapist would get notified about an allergic reaction, but what do I know.
I didn’t talk for most of the session as she would ask a question and then I would either shake my head or nod. That only worked for so long. By the end of session, my throat hurt and I don’t think I could speak. We had talked about my being suicidal and she kept on asking me if I was safe. I didn’t know where she was going with this. I have no idea if she was using the “no harm” contract or what. I could have gone in so many directions with this but 1) I had no voice and 2) I am so damn tired of teaching or maybe informing is a better word, a therapist about how to deal a chronic suicidal person. I am still thinking of bringing in the suicide safety plan by Stanley and Brown but I am just not ready to do so, only because in my intense moments, I doubt I will do the stuff that I had agreed to do. I was supposed to call my psych and I don’t remember if I did or not. I know I emailed her and that is all I remember.
Wednesday I had groceries delivered. I put most of them away and then decided to get my haircut as I had to go to the bank for my mother. My barber said he would be unavailable between 2-3 so I went to Starbucks and just wrote in my journal. I don’t think I had anything caffeinated because I had coffee while waiting for my groceries. I might have ordered a tea and that was it. I got my haircut and hour later and then went home. I was tired and my ankle was hurting but then when isn’t it hurting?
Thursday I had an appointment with the new psychopharm. I was really nervous about it. Before the appointment I was almost in tears as I didn’t want to see this guy. I just wanted my psych and the realization that she was gone was causing intense grief. I had emailed my psych so we had a convo a little before the doc got me. I felt a little reassure she was okay with this and that she knew that she would always be my psychiatrist, no matter what. I went to the guy’s office and could only speak a little above a whisper. Some days I feel like my voice is better and other days I can hardly talk. That day was one where I could hardly talk. The doc wanted my psych history and what had lead me to see mental health services. He didn’t have me elaborate on why I was hoarse, why I was disabled, why I was wearing an AFO, nor did he inquire about my past medical history. I gave short answers as I was in a bad mood for most of the day and wasn’t very talkative. I told him I had Bopolar 2 and he gave me a skeptical look as my record said I had bipolar 1 (I have never experienced true mania before in my life). The appointment was supposed to be an hour long. It lasted like twenty minutes, tops. My throat was sore so I knew I wouldn’t be talking to my psych that day.
I felt like the whole conversation could have been done via email or something. He said he was just for meds and all he wanted to do was increase my antipsychotic, even though I told him my psych didn’t want to for fear of side effects. I must have told him no at least three times that I didn’t want an increase. Then he said he will see me in a month and if I needed refills before then or wanted to get in touch with him to do so via the patient web thing. That was it. That was the appointment. I was in a worse mood when I left.
Thursday I had left early because I couldn’t stay still after I woke up. I got to the “new” bus stop and waited. The bus just blew right by me. There were no fricken signs indicating it was a bus stop and the previous bus stop had no signs either. I had to walk uphill to the only stop that I knew had signs, which was a good 300 feet beyond where I was uphill. My legs were killing me from the walking. When I came home from the disaster of an appointment, my ankle flared up. It had been a 7 most of the day (never good when I wake up with a 7) and it immediately went up to a 12 when I was resting. Things just got worse from there. I must have sent three or four emails to my psych over the course of the evening/night. I was extremely suicidal and the sketchy plan I had in my head became more detail and specific. I had picked out a day and dammit I was going to go through with it. I didn’t go to sleep till maybe 3 or 4 am. I wanted to write a blog but just posting the word “suicidal” on facebook triggered a report. Whether someone did or some fricken algorithm, I am not sure. It happened pretty quick so I am thinking it was their stupid algorithm that sent me the “being reported” bullshit. I had become even more despondent over this. I felt shutdown even though I was ready to fucking explode. I couldn’t get my thoughts together to even write in my journal, where I knew it was safe.
I slept till around 2 yesterday and thought all day that it was Saturday. I wasn’t feeling so suicidal but the thoughts of the night before still were shocking to me. I still had the plan in my head. All day yesterday I was overwhelmed with my thoughts and by 4 or 5 I was totally consumed by them. I took an Ativan to try and calm down as my anxiety was so high. I also sent my psych an email asking her to call me whenever she got the chance. I was free the rest of the evening so it didn’t matter what time she called. She called me around 2 hours after the email. I asked her you could become insane by the intensity of being suicidal and she laughed. She said that wasn’t the definition of insanity. I felt reassured. She said she is trying to reach out to the new psychopharm but he hasn’t responded to any of her messages. I am not surprised as he seemed like an asshole. She also wants me to let her know how the laryngology appointment goes. I said I would. She said I should write but I couldn’t last night. I felt like if I spoke my mind, the police would be at my door the next day. I just wrote in a notebook and my journal. She asked what I was doing this weekend and I said I didn’t have plans. I still needed to do stuff around my room. She said to keep in touch. I said I would.
I had gone to the pharmacy yesterday to pick up my meds. My right leg felt so weak. Actually, both legs felt weak. I knew it was because of Thursday’s activities. I wanted to do stuff around my room but I knew if I tried, I would hurt so I didn’t. I didn’t even want to shower though I needed one. I just couldn’t chance another flare. It would have sent me more over the edge than I already was. I just read. A friend texted me so we chatted for a bit until he had to go out with his family for dinner. I was glad we talked for a bit. I tried texting to another friend but she said her phone was dying and would talk later. Yea, 3 am later. JFC seriously? I don’t get why people don’t know their battery is dying when you are talking with someone. Why even bother answering when another time would have been fine. I don’t get it. But texting at 3 am, unless it is an emergency, is not ok. Yes, sometimes I am so it doesn’t matter but usually at that time, I am trying to wind down not have a conversation for an hour or two.
I haven’t done much today but I did finally shave and shower. I didn’t take a chunk of my face off while shaving either so that was good. I haven’t really eaten much but then I am not that hungry. I had bought some buffalo wings with my grocery order and forgot they were in the fridge. I found them while looking for my coffee. Our fridge is full so I basically just put my coffee where ever there was room. I realized today that one of the bottles of coffee I ordered didn’t come. It is too late now to call and say it didn’t. I am bummed about this, but not really. I need to get ice cream so I might get it tomorrow if my nephew isn’t working. I will get that particular coffee then.