constant physical pain makes me depressed

I am up early yet again. I just can’t sleep more than eight hours anymore. I sleep six hours and then I am up. My foot is hurting so I guess I should take something for it before it gets worse. I already went downstairs twice for bathroom reasons. My ankle didn’t appreciate that at all. I don’t know why it is so stiff today. But then today is going to snow so that might have something to do with it. Seems every week there is some snow going on. I can’t wait for it to stop. It makes walking very difficult, especially when people don’t shovel their walk. Drives me crazy. Then you have to walk in the street and the cars get mad at you.

I am thinking of changing my “about me” blog to just living in chronic pain and having suicidal urges. I realize that is all I write about. Sure there might be a few blogs just about my depression but most of it starts with me being in physical pain. I am in constant physical pain and it makes me depressed and often times suicidal more so than my depression alone. But now that I have the pain managed to a good degree, I am less depressed about it. But I still think that I should maybe add that I also suffer from chronic physical pain.

Yesterday when I went to pick up my prescription, I was asked for the first time what my diagnosis was. I had heard people tell me that pharmacists now need a diagnosis in order to process but it never happened to me before now. Funny on my main pain medication they didn’t ask me for a diagnosis but the one I take for break through pain they did. Very weird.

It’s Sunday and I hope there is a televised spring training game for the Sox playing today. I miss baseball so much. It is the one thing that I can watch without getting bored.

It’s almost seven in the morning. I have no idea what I am going to do today. It’s cold out and is supposed to snow so I guess I will just stay inside. Monday I have my appointment with my pdoc so I will be out of the house. I don’t think I will be getting a latte anymore as the last two that I have had, has given me the jitters. This sucks. I guess I am back to drinking coffee. Sad thing is that there is no new Clover coffees that I like or are interested in. I still want to try the Mexican coffee. Maybe I will tomorrow. Their sun-dried Ethiopian coffee I didn’t like. It had a very weird aftertaste. I don’t like it when coffee has an aftertaste.

I still have depression, though it seems to be lessening as I can now type without it bothering me cognitively. I hope this continues because I would like to work on my short story this week and maybe my blurb for my book.

relentless

Not having a good day. I had an extremely long day and all I want to sleep but I am afraid of having these weird dreams I have been having. Some of them I remember, others I don’t. Like there was one where I was back in my hometown and there was an aquarium where my old hangout was. It was more like the petting pool that is at the aquarium where you can touch the fishes and turtles and stuff. All the while I was there, I was supposed to catch a boat but this aquarium was in the way of the gangway. Really weird.

Then today I find out it’s Jason Aldean’s birthday, which is really cool but weird that he is a year younger than I am. The closest cut, which is a song that is a favorite of the artist of the day or a greatest hit by someone years ago, played his song Relentless. I bleared it on the speakers and immediately thought of my therapist and how she is never going to listen to this song because we don’t meet in person, though I am planning on seeing her Tuesday, if conditions are right. Conditions are I wake up early, I feel like going to the next town to get my sister’s car, and also feel like driving 30 miles with no precipitation on the road. I don’t know if I am going to be able to go because Monday is supposed to be a snow storm and the roads might not be clear enough come Tuesday. It usually takes a day after a storm for the roads to be clear. Also, one time when I saw her I went into a snow bank while making a turn. So that is why I hesitate. I was ok and so was the car but it was just scary losing control of the car and having no where to go but a bank of snow. So I will see what the weather will be like and then make my decision. This winter has been really brutal so I am expecting a very hot summer, which I hate more than the cold, frigid temperatures. Heat and I do not get along. I rather be in -10 degrees than 90+ any day.

The most I can do to get my therapist to get this song is to send her the lyrics. Then she will have some idea of what I am talking about. Course the song is mostly about her. I just associate the song with her.

a starbucks day

Sitting at Starbucks and pondering what to do today. I got chicken in the fridge that I need to prepare for dinner tonight but don’t feel like doing it. I am just so tired of life that everything is a hassle. You would think that my getting up early in the morning, before seven, I would have energy. But all I have is dread and worry. I really cannot wait until the editor can take me and I hope it is soon because the longer I wait, the longer I am just going bonkers with doubts. I know I have had two good reviews and I am grateful for that. And I know the editor will like what I write. I just have my doubts about things some times that makes me wonder if it is worth it all. I mean, I am putting myself out there in a huge way. Talking about my nerve condition, my depression, my suicide attempts, my psychosis, and most of all, being transgendered. Only a few people close to me know about this. And now I will be telling the world. But maybe I don’t need to get my story out there. I have this blog for that, but this blog is just my daily struggles. It doesn’t deal with my past events, specifically. I mean if I wrote about my past every day, I doubt I would get new readers and possibly the ones that I have now will lose interest and leave.

I was in a bad spot yesterday and the day before that. Today is too soon to know if I will be in that same bad spot. And my bad spot, I mean thinking about death and suicide. Course right now I wish I was dead just so I didn’t have to deal with my sperm donor (my father). So I texted my therapist about feeling poorly and she writes back “you deserve to live, you are worthy”. I am like WTF is that supposed to mean? I mean I get the words, but they just don’t sink in. I kind of am mad because she is going on the whole “loyalty to my father” bullshit. I don’t know what she means by “loyalty” and when I asked her about it, she said maybe that is not the right term. Ya think?? No wonder I call her a Bozo! And a Fink. But mostly Bozo.

I just sent her off a package of letters that I wrote while she was on vacation. It’s the thing I do when I am stressed and need to vent when she is not around. She is looking forward to these letters. What a weirdo. I don’t even remember half of what I wrote, which is usually the case when I write. It goes on paper or the computer screen and is promptly forgotten about. I usually have a good memory but when it comes to my writing, forget about it. It’s like I have a writing alter or something and once it gets written, that part of me is closed off to it. And when I read what I wrote, I am like WTF, I wrote this?? It’s in my handwriting as bad as it is, so I know it is me. That is why my journals are so important to me. Granted lately I haven’t been so good in writing in them. But what fascinates me is that whatever I write, doesn’t change over the years. I keep writing about my pain and all that changes is the date. SOSDD—Same old shit different day.

I think because my mood has shifted from not being suicidal every day, is why I don’t write as often as I used to. Plus with me blogging, writing is just another chore to me. It’s been ages since I last had the writing bug, in which I would have to write something all the time. It is called Hypergraphia. I learned this term from the book Midnight Disease. It was written by a neurologist at Mass General Hosp. I forget her name, I want to say Anne Flaherty, but don’t quote me on that, I am too lazy to switch screens to Google it. It was a good book and I related a lot to what she was talking about. It gave me the hope that I could still become an MD or PhD with my illness, though right now my biggest goal that I want to do is get my Bachelors degree. Then I will decide whether to pursue graduate level courses. I do want to be a therapist one day and focus in the field of suicidology. Unfortunately, there is only one program in the country that focuses on suicide and that is in either Mississippi or South Carolina. I just know it’s down south and I hate the heat and humidity so not sure I can move down there. Course, that is if I get accepted to their program.

still wicked depressed

Not too sure I want to go out today for my latte. It’s really cold out, but we didn’t get any snow last night, least none that I have heard about.

I finally typed up my darkness pages that I wrote out the other night. It wasn’t as bad as I was imagining but it left me in a sad mood, almost suicidal but not really. I just feel like a lowlife.

I ordered my favorite food today but it didn’t taste good. Nothing tastes good anymore. I don’t know why that is. My taste buds seem to work only when they want to. It is frustrating because when I want something and it doesn’t taste good, it just spoils my appetite. Lately, all that I do want to eat is cereal or an egg. But I had an egg for the first time in a week and it didn’t taste good. I mean it wasn’t bad or anything like that, it just didn’t satisfy me. Tomorrow I am going to be making Hawaiian chicken in the crock pot for the first time. I hope that it is good. But the depression is making it so that I don’t want to make it. I have to cut up the chicken and then mix the ingredients. It should be good for a small crock pot. It sounds like work and it is overwhelming me. I hope the feeling is gone by tomorrow.

I have to pick up my niece today so I am not sure if I want to go out. Right now, I just want to take a nap. I haven’t done anything today except for typing up my story. I really don’t need a latte. I can make a cup of coffee and call it a day. Thing is, I don’t know if my sister still has my cream. I keep it at her house so I don’t have to keep taking it up and down the stairs with me. But her family uses it so sometimes I don’t have it. And it is not like I can put a sign on it saying don’t use in my sister’s house. She will just say to bring it upstairs.

I still am having trouble with concentrating. That has to be the most frustrating symptom of depression. It is because you can’t do anything about it and you can’t do anything without it. It’s taken me forever to write this blog because I keep getting distracted. Between the TV going downstairs and my phone’s text messages, I just can’t concentrate on what I want to write.

I haven’t heard anything from my friend’s people who are reading my book, or should be. I just had two people read it and they both liked it. But these people know what Cauda Equina Syndrome is. They live with it every day so they know what I am talking about. I don’t know how that is going to be with someone “normal”. I have about three weeks before my editor takes the book from me. I like to have at least two more feedbacks before she grabs it. I am wicked nervous about it. On days like today, my book sucks and no one can tell me different. Then I think about Jobes and his endorsement of my book and realize it is not so crappy.

What is surprising me throughout this whole depression is that I am not planning my own death. Usually I will and that will give me a sort of release. But this time it is taking too long for me to even think of death. It’s like it is too far from my reach so why bother. Sure I have plenty of pills I can overdose on. But why get sick on that. Then I will lose the trust of my doctors and I can’t go through with it. Their trust means so much to me. I feel like I should call my psychiatrist but what is there to say? I am depressed, again for the umpteenth time? Sometimes I just don’t think she understands just how painful these depressions can be and what cost it takes on my heart. I don’t think any one cares about that cost.