Sore As Hell

Sore as all hell

I woke up around 0630 this morning. I was still in pain so I took my meds and then played my game until I passed out again. I only slept for about two hours. When I got up, both my legs were sore from yesterday’s excursion. My calves feel so damn sore it is not funny and they are both tight. Stretching them just causes me pain. I have been do it little by little all day to try and get them to loosen up to no avail. I wish I had a bathtub. I think the hot water would help my legs so much. But I don’t. My ankle and foot are still swollen, though not as much as last night. They still hurt more than my calves. I am glad I decided not to go anywhere today. Only thing I planned on doing was calling a junk towing place to get my junk car but I didn’t even do that so FAIL.

Last night, I was going through my twitter feed and one of the anti-suicide organizations had a tweet that really pissed me off. The tweet said “suicide should never be an option”. BULLSHIT. You mean to tell me someone dying from the indignity of say Parkinson’s disease shouldn’t have the right to end their life when the time came? BULLSHIT. Or if they were dying from terminal cancer? Or ALS? I can go on, but I think you have my point. Sure, someone with depression *may* not have that as an option but in all humanity, it should remain as an option. I don’t want to live in a world where it isn’t. I know there is a 100% chance of me developing Alzheimer’s disease. I have the genes from BOTH sides of my family. If I become too much of a burden on my nieces and nephew, I want the option to kill myself. Or I will move to a state where assisted suicide is allowed by law. Course, that is if I don’t take my life before then.

I have many reasons for contemplating suicide. I live in chronic physical pain every day. I know suicide will be the cause of my death one day. I can’t picture myself living to “old” age, whatever that is now a days. I am 38 yet I feel like I am 90. I ache something fierce every single day. And if it is not one thing, it’s another.

Another thing that pisses me off about the anti-suicide campaigns is that they want zero (0) suicides. Again, they are living in a dream world. Sure, we can hope that the rate decreases, I am all for that, but to have zero suicide? That is just unrealistic to me. There is always going to be someone that ends up dying by suicide some where in the world. It’s just the way humans are.

Another Long Day

Another long day

So I dealt with my father this morning. Thankfully, the gods were with me, because the doctor, who normally runs at least a ½ hour late (or more), was on time. I learned a new route to get to my father’s house that is easier than taking the way that I knew home. I was grateful that my father had a friend that took us, but man, did he drive below the speed limit. We got there on time and everything, but still. Doing 20 in a 30 MPH zone? Come on buddy. I just wanted to go home but no, my father takes the opportunity to tell his DOCTOR that he can’t fill one of his medications. I spent almost a half hour with him and he didn’t say one word at ALL about this. So he is without meds until I call the pharmacy to find out why he couldn’t fill it. The guy thinks the world caters to him, I swear.

I just missed the noontime bus because of the medication issue. I didn’t care. I was away from him and his ornery ass and was glad to have a half hour to myself to listen to my Pearl Jam while waiting for the bus. I still had some time to kill before having to pick up my niece from school. She is in awe that I can type fast. She wants me to teach her. I told her it comes with practice and patience. She didn’t like those words, LOL

I am glad I am seeing my doc on Monday because I will be demanding an MRI on my ankle because I think I screwed it up while walking. The pain I have been experiencing is not my normal pain, well it is, but not in this intensity. I could barely get my sneakers on today and the shoe part that meets with the bone just about sent me fainting from the pain. It was awful. But even with the AFO, my ankle is hurting me in one part ALL the TIME. It is so intense that sometimes all I can do is swear (doesn’t help the pain but makes me feel better to express my frustration). Either that, or the doc that injected the numbing medication screwed up my ankle. Though that happened back in January of this year. I seriously doubt it would still be affecting me now. I think I might have twisted it when I went for my little 1.2 mile walk on Labor Day because that is when the pain intensified. It is so annoying when you can’t walk. And I don’t want to hear the story about how my weight is factored in. My weight has been stable the last couple of years, give or take a pound or two. Granted I just gained weight while in the hospital but I will lose it once I get myself ready to. It’s hard to commit to anything when you are in chronic pain. But I ate good today so hopefully, I won’t have the midnight hunger attacks.

I have been texting my therapist throughout the day. I think she read my blog I sent her last night. I won’t find out until Monday when I talk to her again. Next week is going to be long. I have my appointment with my PCP on Monday and then have therapy in the evening. Tues and Wed therapy at noon. Then Friday I have my pdoc appointment.

I saved a little bit of money today. I saw an ad on one of the games I play for Sprint (my mobile carrier) and it was cheaper with this plan. So I called and though I don’t have unlimited everything, I do save $15 USD a month with the new plan. Only thing is, I have to make sure I don’t go over 4GB of data with this new plan. I doubt I will go over as I usually use just a little over 2 GB every month. But I know there may be months where I do go over. I try not to use my phone as much but it is difficult as I have a lot of my game feed on my Facebook page using my laptop but I don’t have the same crap if I use my phone.

One more bitch paragraph and then I will stop…

My cousin comes over the house just to use the bathroom, tells a story about how a doctor dented her car with his arm, and then leaves. She is such a drama queen and needs attention just like my father. Then she had the audacity of telling me I walk like my mother. She then asks me “don’t people tell you that”? I am like no, only YOU (asshole, that I mutter under my breath). She pisses me off something fierce. I could say she has the ass of her mother but I don’t. I am not that type of person. I just think these things but never say them aloud because they are inappropriate, something she never learned.

ramble 628

I had therapy today. I have to say that this new development has my therapist’s curiosity piqued. We tried talking about it today but there was nothing new. Things have settled down some and I think I am back to being “me” again. She didn’t have a chance to read the letter I wrote her last night. I just told her the contents and thankfully, I didn’t have to read it to her.

Though it is still early for the poll to close, the majority of people that voted (9) wants me to continue this blog. So I will write every day, even if I don’t feel like. But there maybe some days that I am unable to write. Tomorrow is one of those days. I am hoping that the stress of the day won’t stir things up. I have my father’s appointment in the morning. I hope the doc is on time or close to it, as last time we were there almost all morning. Granted my father was late getting there so that didn’t help matters. If we manage to get out before 12 I will go to my second home (Starbucks) and also will be bringing my laptop so I can blog, possibly, or write in my journal. I have slightly given up on the short story collection book that I have been working on. I found out they don’t do well. I still haven’t heard from the agent. It has been a little more than a week now. I am half expecting an email saying “sorry not interested” or something to that effect. I have 3.5 weeks left to know of an interest.

Funny thing is, I don’t think I have told my therapist this bit of information, LOL. Since we have been dealing with the DID stuff, I really have time to tell her or mention it. I guess if something happens by chance and I do get an agent, then I will let her know.

I have to take a shower today. Thing is I don’t want to because my ankle is acting up. I took some pain meds so if it calms down enough and I have a window of no pain, I will try and take advantage and shower. That is how my life has become. Usually taking it in the morning is better than during the day or evening. But sometimes if I take a morning shower, it drains me and I won’t be able to do anything the rest of the day. And tomorrow I need all my spoons with me so no shower. It has to be tonight at the latest.

I was singing to one of the Luke Bryan songs on my MP3. I was just mouthing the words because I know my mother wouldn’t be able to hear me anyways. She now thinks I am “happy”. She also bitched that I don’t help her around the house. Well, I got a bad ankle so I can’t do much. She said she was “lazy” and doesn’t know why. I can tell her why but she wouldn’t like it. She is overweight and depressed. And for someone that has COPD, that isn’t good. But does she do anything about it? NOOOOO. She also is in chronic pain with her knees and back. Does she take something for it? Nope. Not even so much as an aspirin. Fucking kills me that she is so stubborn. There are medications out there to help her and she just doesn’t want to be on them. I can understand. I was there where she was. But I wouldn’t be able to function, at all, if I didn’t take the pills I take, including my psych meds. Sure, I have problems paying for my meds, everyone does, but she also has diabetes and her insulin is ridiculously expensive. It pisses me off that her test strips are free but her insulin costs an arm and a leg. She needs her insulin more than she needs the test strips!

Today is National World Suicide Prevention Day. One of my groups, the depression and chronic illness one, a woman was saying all she thought about was suicide 100%. I gave her the suicide number to call as well as the text number in case she felt more comfortable with that. I then find out through one of the admins that we lost two group members through suicide the past two weeks. You can lead a horse to water but you can’t force them to drink.

It is weird that a month ago, I was wallowing in the depths of suicidal depression and it wasn’t until I started back on an antidepressant that I started feeling better. I still was suicidal during the first few weeks, and especially after Robin Williams died. I remember writing to my writing partner, saying it was my turn now. I was in the hospital so there was no way I could try. And after I left, I found I didn’t want to try. I still had the ideas in my head, but the motive behind them were not as strong as they were the first couple of weeks in the hospital. So even though I didn’t get the support I wanted, the hospital did do something.

Games, mindwise and otherwise

Games, mindwise and otherwise

So, I joined a group for my Facebook game, Pioneer Trail, because some of the neighbors are no longer player out of my 125 people. I got new neighbors that play actively. But I still have not received my stuff that I need. I am behind in my missions because I was in the hospital. Still not up to speed with the current missions. And today I got really pissed off because I found out you needed to complete a mission inside a mission to get the stuff you need. I stopped playing and just collected rewards off other people. It was easier to do this than send out the stuff I needed in return.

I then had therapy in the afternoon. I would have preferred lunch with my aunt. My therapist read the blog I posted that had another “alter” and boy, did we talk about this for some time. She wanted me to read the paragraph to her and I wanted nothing more to do with the letter. I told her the handwriting didn’t change, but, it sort of did. I wrote a journal entry prior to writing the letter and the handwriting was different than that of the journal. The letter’s handwriting was more sloppy than that of the journal. AND the last thing I wrote was “good night” in Italian. I remember writing most of the letter except the last paragraph. That last paragraph has my mind going in directions I didn’t think were possible. My therapist thinks that it was a part of myself that is angry with her, and she is okay with it. But my “core self” is not okay with it. I hate losing control like I did. And then the fact I slept soundly afterwards is a little bizarre, to me anyways. My therapist thinks it was a way to access the different parts of me through my writing. I just think it is one big game. And at the end of it, my alter is going to succeed in killing me. I thought, up until now, I just had one, Mr. Hyde. Now that I have this unnamed alter inside and it is a he. There were crazy circumstances that allowed this to happen. One, I was on heavy pain medication. Two, I was exhausted from being up very early in the morning. Three, I had lack of sustenance for most of the day. (I didn’t eat anything after I had my mocha that morning.) So all of this seems to factor in. Today I didn’t eat much, except for dinner. I skipped lunch because I just wasn’t hungry. The 4th factor was that my annoyance level was high and I was angry because of dealing with my father that day that didn’t go the way I wanted it to. I had expected to spend no more than twenty minutes for his blood draw and it was almost an hour. That lead to my further blood sugar withdrawal. It was also hot that day, and I tend to be cranky in the heat. I just cannot tolerate it. Add all these factors in, no wonder I needed an escape of some sort and that alter wanted so badly to be let out. But I mistook it for Hyde. I even said in the letter, here is Hyde. But NONE of the writing was his. It was not a suicidal letter/paragraph. It was just someone screaming at my therapist that he was in charge and that you have to let her go, something to that effect. It also spoke of my transgender issues, stating that my therapist should give up the nonsense of calling me a him. Even as I am writing this, I am getting scared it might come out again. The rule that was drilled into me when I was younger was that what went on in the house, stayed in the house. I wasn’t to let anyone know of what was going on. I acted like the man of the house because I was the oldest, and I took this responsibility seriously. Unfortunately, my sisters were not the “good” ones like I was in school. They had their own agendas. They still do.

What troubles me is that I now have displayed a couple of alters while writing. It scares me that this is an outlet for them because it is possible for them to come out when I least expect it to. I think I have some control but what if I lose that control? I haven’t discussed this with my therapist but I think she can agree that my “core self” is in control the majority of the time. It is only when I “choose” to let loose the alter that it comes out. But then I worry about dissociating. That is a different set of rules. The only time I can clearly recall dissociating was last year when I “lost” a few hours and blogged something without my knowledge of it. I blamed Hyde because it was suicidal in nature. I call Hyde, Hyde because it is the “evil” side of me, the dark side that no one sees. It is a benign side, I know it won’t hurt me but it might if let loose for too long. Being suicidal is just too unpredictable. Words can take action very quickly.
My therapist wants me to “embrace” this other side of me. She is curious about it. I just wonder if we were meeting face to face if this person would come out more. It really is hard to predict. I didn’t know this one existed until last week. It was scary. I rather not have this side come out again. But only if I am writing. If it wants to write, I guess I could let it out and write. Just as long as I go to sleep afterwards.