Category: chronic physical pain

suicidal turmoil

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

Suicidal turmoil

***note this is just talk. No action. Just expression of feelings of suicide. If this bothers you, do not read***

My mood has been all over the place today. Last night I was feeling really suicidal. I was exhausted after a chat and wanted to sleep but my thoughts wouldn’t let me rest peacefully. I wanted to email my psychiatrist but I couldn’t come up with the words as my exhaustion out ranked my thought process. Eventually, I did find sleep.

I woke up in the middle of the night because of pain. I took my pain meds, made note of the time, and then went back to sleep. I woke up before my med alarm as I had to use the bathroom. I decided to stay up because I knew that if I went back to sleep, I’d feel like shit.

I got hungry and so made breakfast. I then had time to catch the bus, even though it was an hour earlier than I wanted to go to the square. Oh well. I took my time getting dressed. It was cool out so I had to switch things to my jeans from my shorts. I decided to wear a long sleeve T shirt rather than a sweatshirt. I figure it would be light and if I got hot, I could take it off. It was a beautiful day out. My pain was there but it was manageable. I got to Starbucks and had my espresso. Then I got my journal out and started writing as I wanted to keep it updated with what happened with my appt with the pain doc.

As I was writing, my mind kept going to suicidal thoughts. I wanted to write some more about suicide but I didn’t know what to write. It kept forming in my head. I looked in my bag for a notebook or notepad and there wasn’t one. GAH! Seriously??? I had bought a million notebooks and notepads and this bag was “empty”??? Guess I was off to Bob Slate in Harvard Square to get my favorite kind. I wrote down some more things in my journal and then went to get my med scripts before going to Harvard.

I got to Harvard and the place had change. I don’t remember the last time I was there. The newspaper stand had closed and it kind of changed the whole place. There was a new CVS next to the bank, which was also new. It was a jewelry place before. Starbucks was besides it. There was still construction going on in front of the Au Bon Pain. I still have no clue what they are doing. The construction has been going on for a couple years now. I went to Bob’s and got two notebooks. I only needed one but the other one was a composition type and was for quick notes. I thought it was cool so I bought it. I stayed away from the pen aisle but talked with the guy at the pen desk about refills. There are a couple of pens where I want black ink as they have blue ink right now. The lady became insistent that I bring in the pen to make sure I buy the right one. I am not a naïve pen person but thought it a good idea to do so. I asked what the price range for them were and she said $5 and up. I said I would be back. I’ll probably go Friday before my psychiatrist’s appointment.

I started walking down Mass Ave, not sure if I wanted to catch the bus down to my therapist’s office or just walk there. I got to the corner where there were some benches and sat down for a bit to drink some water. My bladder was telling me it had to go so I waited a little more, just taking in the surroundings and nice weather. I miss being in that part of town so much. It was like going down memory lane. I just started walking toward my therapist’s office. It was farther than I thought it was. I kind of figured that as the numbers were higher at Harvard than the other train station I usually get off. That part of Mass Ave had changed a lot. There was an Indian buffet restaurant, a Domino’s, a Dunkin Donuts. It was amazing to see all these new businesses.

By the time I reached my therapist’s office, I had walked off my suicidal writing energy. I went up to the floor and used the bathroom, then sat in the waiting room for an hour. I played on my phone for a bit and then I took out my journal to write some more. I tried to remember what I wanted to write about but nothing was coming to me. The bug had worn off. I wish I could walk off those feeling whenever ever they occurred. It would be a huge help to me but I know that might not always work due to pain.

I told my therapist right away about my suicidality and how my week went. A lot of stuff was stirred up. I forgot how much my PTSD was flared because of what happened in PT and then with the pain that activated the Cauda Equina Syndrome memories and surgeries, relearning to walk, etc. We talked about it and he listened to my suicidal ramblings. He didn’t ask if I was safe, didn’t get me off topic with plans or crisis stuff. He just listened and inputted his thoughts when I had finished. He does want me to see him twice a week just to have someone to talk to. He thinks I am too isolated. I explored it a little bit and I told him that was scary to me. I don’t know why. He playfully said that he shaves down the horns. LOL I told him I would think about it and let him know next week. I told him I would be on the new pain medicine and hope that would calm down flares and help me regain some things that I have lost.

When I got home and was thinking over the session, I wanted to cry. I never had a therapist that listened to my suicidal thoughts, plans, and other stuff before, in detail. I felt good about it and it made me feel better knowing I had someone to talk to about this stuff, the hardest stuff I can possibly talk about. He told me he wouldn’t be able to stop me unless I was telling him right then and there I was going to end my life after I left his office. It is Massachusetts law to protect someone from themselves or others. He didn’t give me an ultimatum, a do this or else scenario. I was appreciative because I never had that before. I never talked about how much I was feeling about suicide because safety was always first and foremost. Then add in a therapist’s anxiety and the whole thoughts about why you are suicidal are lost, never to be spoken about. For 27 years, no one heard me out after I said the “S” word. It was like the why are you suicidal didn’t matter and containment was more important. By then, the session was over and you were more frustrated because you were in this bind where you promised if you were going to act on your feelings, this and that had to happen and if it didn’t, you were on your way to the hospital to be admitted for a few days or more.

This is where suicide prevention gets mucky. You have a suicidal person and instead of listening to what they are going through that is making them think about ending their lives, they need to “prove” they are safe when they walk out that door until the next session with the therapist or psychiatrist. The client/patient may get angry they are being put in a bind and not heard. This has happened my entire suicidal career. Now I have someone that cares about me, wants to listen to me, and knows that if I really want to end my life, there is nothing he can do to really stop me. He is the perfect therapist for me and it is scaring me because I am expecting metaphorical handcuffs on my thoughts but they aren’t coming. I am free to talk about suicide as long as I don’t act on these feelings. It is freeing. It is validating. It is helpful. And I am grateful that I have someone like this.

I don’t know if I can see him twice a week because financially, that will be double the copay a month. Not to say that I will be able to make every session because I can’t always do that. We talked about that too. He understands that I have a chronic health condition that makes going out impossible some days. But he still wants to help me. He isn’t going to slam the door or give me an ultimatum saying I need to see him every week or else, which was what I was fearful about. He is a laid back therapist and I like this. I have to admit that my suicidologist instincts about him not using CAMS or some other EBP was freaking me out. How could I talk to him if he wasn’t going to measure the level of suicidality on a piece of paper? But I realized today, you don’t need that stuff to make suicide prevention/intervention happen. You just *need to talk*.

jump then fall

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

Jump then fall

Honestly had no idea what to name today’s blog and I am listening to Taylor Swift’s song, Jump then Fall so just chose that as a title.

I read one LONG chapter of Brother’s Karamazov. It was typical Dostoevsky. The chapter had nothing to do with the story. It was about one of the character’s interacting with a hallucination due to his illness. I was just reading to get through it, so I don’t even remember what it was exactly about. I made myself a new goal for the week. That if I finish this book, I will then read the Harry Potter series, again. I can’t help it. I follow a couple of Harry Potter Twitter accounts and they always show quotes from the books/movies and I want to relive it again. I love it so much!

I actually bought another book on the recommendation of Wil Wheaton called All the Birds in The Sky. He said it was good so I will read that along with Harry, if I get that far. I have a lot of things to do this week and my fucking ankle flared up today. I was at my sister’s apartment getting ice. I turned around and almost lost my balance. I didn’t see where my bad foot landed. I went to pick it up to walk to my apartment and it hit the drill that was on the floor. OUCH!!! Instant flare. Fucker. Pain is currently a 12, which is better than it was four hours ago when it happened. I just took a strong pain pills and some dark chocolate to help me feel better. I was talking to my support group friends and told them the chocolate is my “extra strong pain pills.” They wanted to start a post about sweets but were reluctant so I did it. I am not shy, LOL.

My mother said she was going to make spaghetti with my gravy. I was like score! I went downstairs to my sister’s to empty my recycle bin. It was close to overflowing so needed to be emptied. The dinner was ready when I came back upstairs. It wasn’t spaghetti. It was shells. I said so to my mother and she was like, we haven’t had them in a while. UGH. I want spaghetti, not shells!! I ate it anyway. I finished off the last of the meatballs. My mother made the box of the pasta. She can eat it all week.

I filled my med box for the week. I need to take my meds soon. Last night I realized I didn’t take my meds Friday night. I was just so upset over the whole pain doc and pain meds that I just forgot. I thought I did take them but they were still in the box when I took my meds last night. No wonder I had trouble sleeping that night. But my writing bug has been activated. I have been wanting to write all day but kept getting distracted by the internet. Plus the ball game was on so it just didn’t happen. I want to write some more about suicide and getting help, in general. It is not easy seeking help and if you have a past like mine, it is extremely difficult to find another therapist that will take you on. But it is on the mental health professional, not you! If you have a problem with alcohol, it is best to find an addictions counselor rather than a general counselor or therapist. Support groups are invaluable. There are plenty online or even on Facebook. Depends on what you are looking for and how private you want them. Going to a group therapy takes some work. But the peer support work better. People that have alcoholic spouses or parents also can get groups for them that are free. Just need to put a little effort into finding something that works for you. There is a good likelihood that the first person you meet isn’t going to work out for you. It’s like any other relationship. Takes commitment and work. If they don’t work out after 2 or 3 sessions, find someone else or another group. I went through at least three CRPS groups before I found the one I am in. What a difference! The people are friendly and supportive to all members. I also run a support group for CES on Facebook and it is a good group. There are some people that come in with their own agenda, looking for money for themselves or their “cause”. You are going to find that anywhere though. I try not to let those people in because that is no really supportive nor do other members have the money to donate or feel pressure to donate because someone asks. Most are on a fixed budget like me so there might not be extra funds after all bills and meds are paid for the month. I’m fortunate to live with my mother to pay some bills that I couldn’t manage if I lived on my own.

in a hopeless state of mind

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

In a hopeless state of mind

I can’t sleep because of pain and too much on my mind. I keep reading people’s messages about the two people that died by suicide this week and the CDC supposed data that suicide is increasing. I don’t trust the CDC anymore because it fudged data just to push an agenda that hurt people like me with chronic pain.

Some of the messages I read concerned helplines. Do people think that talking with someone for five minutes can help a lifetime of anguish? Probably not. Can it bring enough hope so that person can see to tomorrow? Maybe.

The past few months I have wrestled and anguished with my own thoughts of death. Hell, the beginning of the week, I was tormented with psychache, spoke about it on social media, and then was reported. In the email from Twitter, it said that I could speak to a hotline and there are resources. I deleted the email. What it comes down to, is whether I seek help or not. My choice, really. No one else’s to make. Just like you, reading this. You don’t have to read my blog. No one is holding a gun to head saying to read Midnight Demon. We all have battles that we face, some bigger than others but that doesn’t make them any less of a battle. It could be drugs, alcohol, depression, suicide, mania, voices, paranoia, etc. Some times someone feels too good to get help. Some times someone feels too bad to get help. Others may not think they are worthy or are too afraid what others might think of them if they seek help.

If you have a problem, whatever it is, someone else might have it too. You are not alone. There are people who have alcohol issues, mania issues, depression, trauma, sexual abuse, physical abuse, etc. and live to face another day though they may not want to. Some people, like me, think of suicide often. And that is really scary to some people, so much so they think by reporting them or calling the cops on them is the answer. But let me tell you what happens when you don’t face that person and ask, how can I help or if you need to talk I am here. It shuts them down. That was their one chance of opening up these vulnerable feelings and you just slammed the door, possibly forever, of them ever talking about their dark side ever again. Reporting does not help. I got an email with a hotline and a link to a resource. Did I use it? No, I deleted it. Someone once reported my online activities to the police. The local cops came and scared the crap out of my aunt and pissed me the fuck off. You think I am going to write in my blog the same way again? Fuck no. And why? Because of people like you who are too stupid to understand someone else’s pain and despair. To sit with it and deal with it rather than throwing it at someone else because you can’t be the better person.

I may end my life one day and sadly, even though I talk about it on my blog, you will never know about it because of this one person that sent cops to my door one morning a few years ago. It shuts people down. So I understand why Kate Spade didn’t seek help. She was afraid. I can’t say anything about the other guy. I never heard of him until he died a couple days after Kate. Would either of them have called a hotline? Would either of them have opened the link to the resources that were provided to them? Probably not. Their battle was theirs alone. Their decision was theirs to make. I understand it because I have lived it time and time again. In one of the legal pads I was trying to find to write this down on, I came across a story I wrote that I later published. It is also on my blog (I think). It was about a night where I was in so much pain, I wanted to end my life. And though I had promised my therapist and psychiatrist that I would call them should I feel like ending my life, I didn’t. I had hotlines to call. I had coping skills to use. Instead I wanted to end my life right there and then because of the agony of my foot and ankle but because I couldn’t walk three friggen feet to my bureau, 36 inches away from me to get more pills to take to end my life, it saved me. I woke up and wondered what I did. I will never forget that fear and the shame I felt. I was scared to tell my therapist and psychiatrist what I went through. Terrified that I would be once again be on the psych unit of some hospital never to breathe fresh air again.

Lately, I have been saying, Always be kind. You never know who might need it and is depending on it to survive another day. If you are still reading this and not dialing 911, reach out in other ways. Call that friend you haven’t spoke to in a while that seemed to have stopped posting on social media. Or that friend that was supposed to go to a cookout but didn’t show up. They just might need to know that someone other than the demons in their head care for them. And be kind and non-judgmental. Ask them if they need help with something that is important to them. They might not tell you everything or they might not even want to talk, just listen. Sit with their darkness. It will mean the world to them.

ping pong Friday

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

Ping Pong Friday

I had a late appointment with my pain doc today so I did a few errands before it. I got my haircut, went to Starbucks to fuel up because I was starving, and then went into Boston to fix my glasses as the nosepad was broken. That took only a few minutes and I told her I was having trouble reading so I set up an appt with the eye doc for next week to check my eyes. I am still covered should there be a prescription change.

I then hung out in the lobby until it was time for my appt. I had to pick up my script for my pain meds so I did that and then wrote in my journal. I felt like I lost a best friend as I hadn’t had time to write in some time. It felt so good to write a couple of pages. I need to bring another journal as I have about 10 pages left. I have plenty so I don’t need to buy one.

I was extremely nervous for my appointment. A medical student came in and took a brief history as to why I was there. Then the doc came in and he said he didn’t know what to do for me. Excuse me? You need to write me a script for the medication you agreed to put me on. Then he said his clinic doesn’t do that. YOU ARE A FUCKING PAIN CLINIC, What the fuck do you mean you don’t do that!!??? He said he was just a consultant and that the primary would write it. Oh my fucking god. I have barely enough pain meds to last me the weekend as I can’t fill them till Sunday. He said he would email my PCP and HE would get back to me. Okay, asshole. I vowed never to go back there for anything. The whole place is a fucking joke.

I leaving fuming mad. I put Pearl Jam on as it is the only music to keep me from killing someone at that point. I look at the current pain meds and the bastard was right, I can’t fill it till Sunday. I think I will have enough until then as long as I don’t flare. I go on the train and no seats are available so I stand the whole way, barely listening to the music in my ears.

I get off at my stop, go across the street to get some slices of pizza and fries because that is what I wanted for dinner goddamn it. I placed my order and as I was waiting a restricted number calls my phone. I answer and it is the pain doc’s office. The asshole said he would prescribe as he talked with my PCP. I am to pick up the script on Monday. Wonderful but that doesn’t help me this weekend for pain meds!!! And that will mean going to the same hospital Monday for the script and then Tues to see my chickenshit PCP.

I am so fucking frustrated. I counted my meds and I barely have enough to get me through Monday. This is because I don’t have a 28 count of meds. I have a 21 day supply of meds even though I am supposed to have a 28 day. If I have a flare later or this weekend, I don’t know what I am going to do. I can’t go more than 8 hours without meds as I will go through withdrawal. Been there, done that, not fun. Even with the new medication, I have no idea if I will have withdrawal from what I am currently taken because I have never stopped it before for another med. I didn’t have a chance to ask about this because the asshole didn’t want to deal with me. I know technically, I should be okay because the same opiate receptors will be having the new med but I don’t know. How can you go from 12 years being on one drug to a new drug and still have the brain be happy??? We’re not talking ibuprofen for Tylenol here, same result, different pathways.

I have four appointments next week. I was really hoping to try this new med tonight to see if I could be functional come Monday. Now that is all fucking messed up. My PT won’t be happy if I cancel. I could possibly reschedule my chickenshit PCP appt. I really don’t know why I need to see him anyway other than to slap him silly for doing this to me. Only has taken NINE fucking months to get to where I am right now, and I still have to wait till Monday to have a change in meds. NINE FUCKING MONTHS of back and forth. Jumping through hoops left and right. All the while planning my suicide because I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t fathom going on in this amount of pain day after day on the meds I was taking that was only putting in a dent on the pain. It helped but I had to keep myself loaded every six fucking hours and then take a breakthrough med that lasted only four fucking hours. I only have enough to last me until Monday if I don’t flare. If I flare, Monday I will have zip. I am trying to figure out what kind of pain med schedule to be on until Monday. Severe pain doesn’t stop with one pill. Fuck if it did, I would only be taking one pill every couple of hours. But I need two and frankly, more than two doses aren’t going to last me. Panic is high, which I am trying to calm myself because that can send me into flare mode.

I am supposed to go to a cousin’s vending place tomorrow. I don’t know how much standing/walking will be had. I still don’t know if I will flare later tonight because of all that I did today. I am so mad that I left his office only for a half hour later for him to call me. Like what the fuck. I shouldn’t have left until he called right then and there. I emailed my psychiatrist about all this. She won’t get it until next week as she is on vacation. If she was around, I would call her. So between being pinged to my pain doc back to my pcp back to pain doc back to pcp, I am now back to pain doc to get my pain hopefully under some control. Who knows, maybe I can put my plan off if it works out.