Category: Bipolar Disorder

I didn’t kill my therapist

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

I didn’t kill my therapist

I had told my therapist to text me after she eats my cake but never got a text. I thought I killed her sweet tooth for good. That was until my pain shot up and I had real thoughts of ending things so I texted her our code for her to get back to me ASAP. She was at a professional engagement so couldn’t call me but we texted for a few minutes. She wanted me to go to the ER, which I declined because what were they supposed to do that my doctors couldn’t? And what ER would I go to, the medical side or the psych side? Either would be hours of waiting and I just am not up for waiting. I told my therapist I would take my meds early and hope for the best. I was crying at this point because I am so damn frustrated.

I didn’t really do anything but go up the damn stairs after going to the bathroom. Soon as I felt the pain, I snapped. I started crying and wonder what it would be like to go to my spot right now and take the pills with me. Kind of play with fire and see if I get burned. I didn’t care. Before I did get dressed and try and figure out how to even walk to my destination, I called my therapist. I am laid up but tomorrow is another day. Unfortunately, I have to talk to my therapist so I can’t be running off to my spot to end my life. Not that I could run, but you get my point.

It sucks that I didn’t talk with my therapist. I really could have used hearing her voice one more time today. Now I have to wait till tomorrow to hear it. I hate that I am crying like a baby with being in pain. I don’t know how much of it is because of sadness and how much of it is because of the frustration that I can’t do anything to help myself. I did take a sugar pill to see if it does anything. You know, in case this pain is truly in my head and not in my ankle. So far there has been no change in pain levels. But then I have taken a full dose of pain meds and Neurontin. I haven’t broken out the strong pain pill yet.

I was thinking of writing how traumatizing it is to be in pain all the time, every single day and not have a rhyme or reason. How many people go upstairs every day and not experience what I experience? I say that it is traumatizing because it makes me think of my bigger illness, cauda equina syndrome. When I was first diagnosed, I lost feeling in my lower extremity and my left leg/foot was in pain. So I associate that pain with getting CES. And since that day, because I am vulnerable to PTSD (I already was diagnosed), I keep having mini flashbacks of that terrifying time. No matter how many times I try to talk myself out of the feedback loop that this is happening again, it doesn’t seem to work until I take some Ativan to calm myself down. Then I can think a little clearer and see that it’s not happening. That I am just having a pain flare up and things are going to be okay even though I am in agony. I just need to wait till my pain meds kick in. I sometimes wish I had IV drugs to make it happen quicker because waiting up to 45 minutes is torture.

I really hate talking about trauma stuff because I am in denial that things happened the way they did. I was twenty-five when this happened to me so I really was naïve to the situation. I just thought that I needed some pain meds and some physical therapy and I would be good as new again. I had no idea how serious my condition was and it wasn’t like the doctors were all that helpful. Hell the surgeon told me I would be up in three days. Three days later, I still couldn’t move my feet or toes. It wasn’t until a week later I could move my big toe. Things came back so damn slowly. Then when I thought I was doing better I got hit with a staph infection that really knocked me off my feet again. But that is another story for another day.

When I finally saw my therapist three months later in person, she had said that I was traumatized by the surgery and what my body did to me. I didn’t want to believe her. That was 15 years ago. Now I get it. And it’s this trauma I keep experiencing every single night that is driving me whacky. I am sure my hormone levels are off kilter in some way shape or form from going through this every night. No wonder I can’t fucking sleep. I am too stressed from being stressed. I might not understand it physiologically but I know that eventually this shit is going to kill me if it’s not dealt with.

Ac in October, why not?

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

AC in October, why not?

I just came home from my therapy appointment. It warmed up considerably as I made my way back home. I am sweating so I turned on the AC soon as I got in my room. It was supposed to be in the 80s but it’s 10 degrees cooler. I don’t care as long as I have AC.

I woke up five minutes before my alarm was set to go off. I waited it out before I got up to take a shower. Then I killed time before I trekked to the car. It wasn’t bad as it was last time. I guess because I wasn’t in as much pain. Surprisingly, I didn’t have to put gas in the car as it had more than a half tank. I set off and got to my appointment a half hour early. I waited in the car listening to the radio and checking Twitter.

Therapy went okay. She wasn’t able to read the password protected blog I sent her because she was putting in the wrong password. She didn’t read the text completely so didn’t see what the password was. She isn’t that technological. I told her what the password was and what the blog was about. I also told her that I emailed my psychiatrist bluntly about what is going on. We talked about my pain most of the time and how yesterday was a really bad day for me. I never cry because of pain but yesterday between the sleep deprivation and the loss of my father hitting me hard, I was more vulnerable.

We talked about my suicidality but I didn’t give her my new date and she didn’t ask. She understands why I go there and how things get so bad so quickly. What I don’t think she is getting is how fucking close I am to attempting. I am beyond snapped. I just got to get the courage to go through with it and I hope to do it sometime soon. My biggest fear stopping me is being found before I am dead and then I survive. That is the problem with taking pills, they take a while to work before they finally kill you.

We did talk about my “lovely” father as his six month anniversary is coming up next Tuesday. I really can’t believe it has been six months already. It still feels like yesterday. It’s weird yet relieving that I don’t have to deal with his abuse anymore. The hard part is that I miss his banter, his stupid, demanding phone calls. I had a voicemail message come through last week. I missed his voice so I replayed one of his old voicemails. When I played the message thinking it was the new message I was shocked for a little bit. Then I realized I didn’t get out of the message. I miss that fucker.

My therapist hasn’t texted me about liking the cake I sent her. I hope the sweetness didn’t kill her. That would be the first. Death by pumpkin cake. My mother is making lasagna for dinner. I am going to be loaded with carbs tonight. Lasagna is not my favorite dish but I will eat it if I am hungry enough. After therapy when I came back to Boston, I went to Kelly’s for roast beef sandwich and onion rings. I ate the sandwich but couldn’t finish the rings. It’s the only thing that I have had today other than a latte.

My mood is still kind of sour and my ankle is throbbing. I took some pain meds when I came home and the voices started on me. They want to know why I just don’t take the bottle. I didn’t take the afternoon dose of trilafon because I was on the road. I took it with my pain meds to shut the voices up. They have been really ornery lately, especially when I am vulnerable with pain overload. I told my therapist that my PTSD is up because the pain is so awful. I really don’t know what is going to get me out from under this. It just seems so pointless and I just want to die so I don’t have to deal with it anymore. I told her I was just mentally and physically exhausted from dealing with it night after night. I am being conditioned to fall asleep around 0300 nearly every night. If I can’t break the cycle, I dread what will happen. I need two pain meds to get me through these horrible nights. I know part of it is the anxiety I have when the pain is peaking, making it hard to settle down. Then it’s pure exhaustion when I do finally sleep. It’s good that I don’t work because I would be sleep deprived nearly every work day.

It’s late again and I can’t fucking sleep

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

It’s late again and I can’t fucking sleep

My foot/ankle has been non-stop throbbing me for the last several hours. And now that I want to sleep, it’s saying “fuck you, too bad”. I have tried taking all the pills I can take, including the strong pain pill but still the throbbing has not gone away.

The voices have crept in. They want me to take a bottle of pills and it doesn’t matter which one I choose. I should page my psychiatrist but I don’t want to go to the ER. Besides, I think the meds are starting to take effect as I feel drowsy all of a sudden, even though the throbbing hasn’t decreased at all.

I was talking with a friend of mine who recommended my book to someone. She told me that there are sellers selling my book for $86! What??!! I immediately wrote an email to my publisher because it looks like they stole my book with a false ASIN number. I hope they respond soon and nobody buys this book at that outrageous price. I am selling my book for $15, legitimately.

I am so tired and wish I could just fall asleep. I’m tempted to take a 3rd Ativan but I have already taken enough medication tonight. I don’t want to go overboard because I need to be driving tomorrow, well, really today. I hate being up this late. It never bodes well.

I need to get some forks tomorrow. I am giving my therapist some cake and I don’t have any disposable forks at home so I need to get some. I would hate to give her the cake without anything to eat it with. Maybe I can get a fork from Starbucks when I get my espresso. I am glad I don’t have an espresso machine at home because I really would never leave the house. I can have my coffee and espresso whenever I wanted it. I would just have to buy the soy milk and I would be set. I do need to get more Pike coffee as I am down to a little bit. I don’t think I have enough for another cup of coffee. I have the house blend coffee but I don’t like it as much as the Pike.

I finished off the last piece of cake that I had made over the weekend. It was very good. Now I am looking forward to making another cake. I love having cake. It’s my favorite dessert. But I am out of cool whip.

a depressing blog

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

A depressing blog

***Warning may contain suicidal ideation so if you feel like you are a fucking hero, do not read. I am writing to vent my feelings not ACT on them.***

This morning when I woke up, my hip was in awful pain. I figured it was because of the way I slept and took a pain pill. Then I went back to sleep only to wake up a few hours later to my med alarm beeping. I had to take my blood pressure medication, which I didn’t take yesterday because I woke up too late. I couldn’t miss two days in a row so I got up gingerly. My hip and ankle fought me in protest. Happy Monday to me.

I have been in a dark mood. My mood is low, only made lower because a couple of friends of mine hit the guilt button today. I made a cake and they wanted some. Problem is they are on the Cape and I am not. How I was to get them my cake was the problem. So it got eaten and they got mad. I greedily had the cake for breakfast as I made my coffee. There is one slice left, which I will have for dessert or lunch. I haven’t decided. I don’t even care if I eat real food today. I am in a rotten mood.

One of my bloggers, who I love, commented on a password protected blog. I know she means well and all but it got me angry. I wasn’t angry at her, but myself. I have failed myself, some how some way and the only way to rectify this is to end my life. Then I was going through Twitter as I am sorting through this anger I am feeling, and lo and behold a psych article is published saying placebo pills help pain when the person knowingly knows this. WTF. You mean to tell me I need to take a sugar pill for my pain? Hold the phone. I will take the last week of my birth control pills (those are sugar pills) and see if they help the intractable pain that I feel every fucking night. Fucking idiots. I wish it was that fucking simple.

This study enraged me to no end. It’s just the fuel that the idiotic DEA and senators need to stop manufacturing life saving opioid medication to those in need. Here just take a sugar pill and you will be fine. I really don’t want to be around when that shit hits the fan. This further exasperates the idea that the pain is all in your head mentality. Even as we speak my ankle is throbbing pretty darn good. It must be in my head that is making it that way after all this time. After all, there is nothing structurally wrong with my ankle. It’s picture perfect, minus a little swelling here or there. And I need to live for this bullshit? For what? Why must I endure more pain and agony every day/night? I will try the sugar pill experiment and let you know how it goes, though.

My mother called a little while ago. She wanted to know if I was going out. No, I am not going out. Why she asked. I didn’t have the time or patience to tell her that I am in a rotten mood and that my colon might explode after all the stuff I had to take to go to the bathroom. That I felt like killing myself and that I just want to be left alone. That my ankle and hip were competing in pain and they haven’t decided which one was going to win today. So I just said because I am not going out in my irritated voice. She got off the phone.

And now the tears have started for whatever reason. I just feel so damn rotten. I know the grief of my father is in there somewhere. I woke up with him on my mind this morning. I still find it strange that I haven’t heard from him and then I realize why and it hurts. Doesn’t help that I painfully went through my April blogs documenting his death as well as my horrible depression that I am still in. I might not have the physical symptoms of depression anymore but I still have the mental. I don’t think I am ever going to recover from this episode. It has gone on for far too long. Just another nail in my coffin.

I had texted my therapist at noon asking for a session if it was possible. I got no response so I just texted her saying forget it, I will just deal with her tomorrow. I get to see her in person and give her my cake that I made over the weekend. I will be getting a Zipcar to see her. This will make the third week in a row that I have seen her on a Tuesday. I just hope my hip is better by tomorrow and I can walk without pain. It will suck if I have to cancel the reservation. I have decided to have her fill out the paperwork for my LTD as one of my diagnoses for disability is depression. It says physician to be filled out but she is one of my attending clinicians so if they don’t like it too damn bad. My physician doesn’t know me from Adam and I can’t let her fuck this up. It’s too important.

I really wish you could just end your life by wishing for death. It would be so much easier than having to plan your death out, make suicide notes to try and comfort those left behind. To answer the “why” you leave behind. I wish I didn’t cause people pain when I leave but I must leave. I can’t go on suffering mentally and physically anymore. It’s too exhausting. It’s not today or tomorrow. It will be within a month or so, unless the sugar pills help me.