Category Archives: Bipolar Disorder

What if I live?

What if I live?

Been thinking seriously of ending my life in a few weeks. I plan dates. It helps me cope knowing I have some date to look forward to so I know the misery will end. Usually this happens in a state of despair when my pain levels are high and all I can think about is death.

But the next morning, after a few hours or more of sleep, I feel differently. Some mornings I cannot believe I sunk so low. Yet usually there is some record of it—a blog or email or social media post. It brings me back, temporarily, to that place and I wonder what if I live rather than go through the plan to die?

I have few events coming up in the next few months. Something to look forward to, so to speak, yet on the nights of despair, they are far from reach, unable to be thought about. Someone said that I should write goodbye letters. I wrote one to my psychiatrist. The other 19 people on my list is a little harder. I don’t have all my ducks in a row, so to speak, to end my life like I had planned way back in March. I was supposed to die in June. It is now the middle of July and I am still here. I do’t feel that getting help would be helpful to me. I have been in therapy for 27 years, that is nearly half of my lifetime. Yet I still remain as suicidally trapped as I did when I was 15 years old and wanted to seriously end my life then.

What if I live?

I don’t know the answer to this question. I just keep going, hoping the day won’t come where I’ll say I’ve had enough and go through with my plan. I don’t want to live. I am in too much physical pain. CRPS has taken so much from me. Might as well take my life as well. I’m not worth living.

I feel like I am crying wolf too many times. I don’t think anyone believes just how serious I am this time. But even I am not 100% convinced I will end my life on the day I planned. What if I live? What if I die? What if I am rescued in time? No one knows my plan. Hell, I don’t even know it completely. I’ve been too afraid of putting it forward because that will make it more real. Do I have to end my life? I feel I have to. I feel no one cares how bad I hurt. And not one medical professional wants to see my suffering end. I’ve had enough of fighting for my care. I had to do this since I was 16. I can’t do it anymore. I’ve run out of gas. If I live, I’ll continue to suffer just so my family and friends aren’t in pain. What kind of life is that?

I’ve been pushing through trying to hang on. I know the demons will pass in the morning. Hence I live to see another day. Hence I live, least until despair grabs a hold of me once again.

What if I live?

just a similar day

Just a similar day

I saw my mother this morning. She was in pain but doing better than I expected. She will be in the hospital till Friday and then go to rehab. I think she is there just to keep an eye on her sugars and such. Last night I really missed her and told her because I was not used to the quiet and it freaked me out. I kept trying to hear her and when I didn’t, I would panic until I realized she wasn’t home. It is going to take some getting used to. House is so quiet without her, mostly because the TVs aren’t blasting. But it is better during the day than at night as everything seems more quiet at night.

My ankle was kind of hurting when I came home. I made my niece some eggs as she was hungry. I thought that would stop her from eating Cheez Its but nope. When I went down a little later to make another cup of coffee, the bag was almost gone. I asked her if the eggs filled her she said yes. She is a teen. Oh well.

I got another fricken Spanish promotion thing from Xfinity/Comcast so I am going old school and mailing them a letter asking them to stop. It is a waste as it just ends up in the recycle bin.

I got to take a shower tomorrow. I can’t today or maybe I will later tonight if my pain goes down. It got worse when I made coffee. I had to take a breakthrough med. I had been doing okay the past few days, least during the day time, anyway. Night time is a different story. I turn into the midnight demon and mood sucks as well as pain soars. I am hoping to make a chili lime chicken burger for dinner. I had to defrost two because they were very stuck together. They are good. Very filling. I didn’t make bacon for breakfast as I didn’t have time. I just made egg and toast. And coffee. I got to clean everything when I am done cooking later. I have been trying to do as much as I can so it doesn’t pile up and become overwhelming.

It is hot today but no where near humid, thank god. I can take dry heat but when it is sticky, I hate it. I hate being in the sun anyway. I feel so exhausted. I can only imagine how it is going to be when I start the pain program, if I do anyway. I am going to be more demanding when I see the pain doc next in increasing my pain med dose because if I am in this much pain now just from seeing my mother in the hospital for a few hours, how am I going to deal with being out with PT and OT appts?? I won’t be able to tolerate more than an hour or two out. What is that?? Bad enough therapy days tire me out and I need a rest day. Maybe I can send a message to my PCP to get through to my pain doc. My psych certainly isn’t going to vouch for me, despite the many emails I sent her.

I read a couple of chapters of the Poe book last night. I got kind of bored with it but got a good quote from it. I didn’t have the punctuation right, which annoyed me as to why it didn’t make sense. I tweeted it out because it fitted the idiot in chief and the whole Russia thing. I am not too shocked that the buffoons in Congress let this fly yet again, this time with the whole fucking world watching. Supposedly, there are going to be more marches. There should be standouts. Blocking DC traffic until he is arrested for treason. If I could stand for hours, I’d be there. All these marches do is just inflate his distorted ego. He likes the attention, no matter how negative it is. In his warped mind, it is a “positive”.

Okay, I got a burger to make. Until tomorrow

One More Light

One More Light

****expressions of suicide in this blog are just that. I am blowing off steam, expressing myself because keeping it in hurts too much****

This song by Linkin Park recently won an award for something I cannot remember. I saw it a couple of days ago. I am not surprised as when I first heard it, I knew it would be the perfect song for suicide prevention. Yet somehow, with my upcoming demise, I cannot help but think of this song.

I was talking to a friend of mine who I told a few months ago that I had made the decision to end my life in a few months. I told her yesterday when I would do it. She asked if everything had been planned like we talked about. I realized I didn’t have all my ducks in a row. Hell, I still haven’t written my letters. I am finding it hard to say goodbye to those I love dearly. People always think that suicide is an impulsive act. That is kind of horseshit to those that suffer from it chronically. There is usually a lot of planning involved. Even Chester had a smile on his face and looked happy in the days before he ended his life. I nor anyone else will know what was going through his mind that lead him to this decision.

Pain o’clock started a little while ago. I am so fricken tired of hurting. I know that no medicine or treatment will bring me pain free. Even if I go through the pain program and their tasks, I will still have pain. I will just manage it better, which I guess it is better than what I am doing now. Even though I am on better pain meds to manage my pain, I am still having flares. I really think that if I was on a higher dose of meds, just 15 milligrams, I wouldn’t have so many flares per week. But according to my psychiatrist, they (pain docs) won’t do that. I have had enough. She saw me yesterday because she was worried about me after I sent her a few emails about how bad the pain was and how my suicidality was increased. I am tired of fighting the supposed experts. It is shit when they don’t fucking listen to the patient. Like what was the point of me seeing her if she wasn’t going to do anything? I am done, so fucking done.

I am sorry to my friend and family about ending my life in the next few weeks. I tried really hard to manage my pain better but they fucked me over. My light needs to be extinguished. I can’t go on like this anymore. I don’t have a fucking life. I can’t even fucking read a book for fun anymore or go to Starbucks to write in my journal about mundane things without pain. It is only going to therapy or medical appointments these days. Often I leave an hour or two early so I do have time to cope with travel and write because as you can see, there are more than a few days between entries. Even my night journal doesn’t have that many entries. I should be on my new journal by now as I am so close to the last few pages but I am not because I don’t fucking care. I plan my death. I rather do that. That gives me hope that I can escape from this hell.

I am so very sorry for hurting any and everyone involved in my life. I know there are many people that will be hurt that that I am gone. If I could put a band-aid on your hearts I would. I don’t blame anyone. This isn’t anyone’s fault. I have postponed this long enough. I was supposed to die in June and here it is July. I wish I had the time to analyze this song. It is such a beautiful song with so many meanings.

hot day turns into T-storms

Hot day turns into T-Storms

I woke up around 10. My mother was already at the hospital. I had a bad night of sleeping and pain. I had already told her if I slept and didn’t have pain, I would go. She understood as there was little for me to do at the hospital anyways.

I made breakfast but not until I shut the kitchen door and let it cool down some. It was a sauna as all the mugginess was in the kitchen. I am glad I was home because the thunderstorms we had would have flooded the kitchen. I made bacon and eggs. It was good. I then had coffee and as usual, felt sleepy so napped. My sister called me when my mother was still in surgery. I was half asleep. I told her I didn’t feel good. My ankle acted up while I was cooking. I spent the afternoon in bed and having a weird dream that I was admitted to a really bad rehab hospital. It was almost like a nightmare. The rain must have been getting in my dream because there was water everywhere.

After I woke from my nap, I called my sister to see how my mother was doing. She was in recovery and soon headed to her room. Surgery went well and she was a little nauseous. My sister texted me her room number. I tried calling a few times but no answer. I’ll call tomorrow to see how she is.

I haven’t done anything other than what I just described. It was very stormy out and I was afraid we would lose power. The temp dropped but the humidity didn’t. I hate that. What is the purpose of rain if it doesn’t get cooler. The All Star game is on but I don’t feel like watching it. They had a delay due to rain. I hope the AL wins, but then I always do. Think I am going to read a couple of chapters of The Poe Shadow. I’m not really interested in it but I started it so I need to finish. It is a fairly easy book to read, not as complicated as Dostoevsky. I’ll take my night meds soon and hopefully have an easy night. I’m not in super pain, which is surprising as the barometric pressure has been all over the place. I somewhat feel a migraine coming on as I have a pain right above my right eye. Allergies have been awful today. I don’t know if it is a migraine or sinus stuff because I am congested. I hate allergies. Stupid pollen! Course being in the kitchen doesn’t help because the windows are covered in pollen. Least I will have the door closed so no more gets in the house. Supposed to be 70 tomorrow. I don’t know what the humidity will be. It was 88% last I check an hour or so ago. YUCK!

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.