Category: chronic physical pain

fridge fiasco averted

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

Fridge fiasco averted

My mother ordered another fridge and again the movers found excuses not to bring it up. My mother cried so they brought it up the back way. We finally have a new fridge and it is working.

I haven’t had much appetite today. I forced myself to eat ¾ of a Stouffer’s French bread pizza. I couldn’t finish it. My mother had a hypoglycemic reaction so I had to lug all of the freezer and fridge stuff into the new fridge. I am exhausted. I was already exhausted from the depression and having crapped my pants when I woke up this afternoon. I had to delay therapy so I could get cleaned up. I was so embarrassed and humiliated. I haven’t had a crap episode in a really long time. Just last week I was priding myself on making it to the bathroom on time with loose stool. Didn’t happen today with hard stool. I hate CES.

Therapist wanted to just talk about anger today. I was too depressed to talk about it. At one point I just let her talk and let her know it. I wasn’t listening to the bullshit. It’s the “I’m depressed because the anger I have for others is turned on me”. That is what I heard anyways. I was like is this my therapist?? There was more but I don’t remember it and I didn’t write it down after session because I was too fucking tired. She offered to call my psychiatrist to see up an appointment. I told her I am too frustrated to continue with the emails and such. She told me to put that in the email. I told her I couldn’t do it. I don’t want to piss her off. Besides, I have my blog to vent to about the aggravation. And occasionally, I will send it to my psychiatrist.

I’m supposed to babysit for an hour or so. I just want to go back to bed and lie down. Today is just a crap of a day. My mother had the audacity to tell me I haven’t done anything today so I can work. That really pissed me off and I said something to her. She didn’t respond. Probably because she didn’t hear me but still I said it.

I talked with my father. He has a 0900 appointment that he thinks is at 10. So what ever. He still isn’t talking to me. I could care less. I will then go over his house and fix his pills for the week. Might as well kill two birds with one stone.

I still feel kind of dizzy today, but that could be because I haven’t eaten much. I also haven’t had too many fluids. I just am in an I don’t care mood today. Even though I had pizza my stomach is hurting. But I have no desire for food. I need to take a shower today but don’t feel like it. I probably will before bed, if I have the energy. All the moving of the food back and forth to the fridge aggravated my foot so will have to see how it is later.

Depression and its lies

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

Last night I couldn’t sleep. Someone had mentioned how “useful” a screening questionnaire was for suicide assessment and all I could think was, seriously?? Where were you when Jobes mentioned it 20 years ago? It got me steamed. Then I thought of another more direct questionnaire that dealt with suicide and wonder why that wasn’t being utilized. My brain was going and going. I had to write down my notes on the subject because it was 0200 and if I started writing and reading, I had no hope of catching any sleep.

I had therapy. I cried at certain points. Emotions were hitting me like a wet rag. I tried to contain myself but couldn’t. We were talking about feeling like a burden, that she should leave me, and that she was better off without me. I really need to read the Interpersonal Theory a little better. Maybe when I start feeling these things, I can climb my way out of it. Depression lies. I still don’t have a full appetite but I am eating. The physical symptoms of depression are still present. And no amount of therapy can help with that.

I was feeling dizzy after therapy but I had to do an errand for my mother. I did it and my back went out. I had to sit for a long time before I could get up and walk again. I really had no interest in leaving the house but I really wanted a soy latte. I got dressed and waited at the bus stop. While at the bus stop, I was still feeling like crap and must of have thought a million times to go back home. The bus came and I got on it. I got my latte and then I wanted to leave. I forced myself to write for at least a half hour in my journal before catching the next bus home. I don’t remember what I wrote about. I emailed my psychiatrist again. I really didn’t want to. But my therapist was telling me that she wanted to see me because it’s been so long since we have talked. She is a good support for me so I should see her. The depression is telling me otherwise. It’s so hard fighting it. I haven’t heard back from her yet. I have a feeling I am not going to. I don’t know why I keep trying. I just feel like it’s hopeless.

I wrote down my thoughts of my therapy session after we ended. I wrote longer than I intended to but that is ok. No one is going to see it except me. I feel bad that this month I am not going to see my therapist. I will try and make up for it next month. I am ahead in my cell phone bill so I plan on saving that money. I need to start saving money if I can. I hate not having a dime to my name some months.

I haven’t emailed my psychiatrist about going back to sertraline. I feel that warrants an in person conversation. But if I can’t get an appointment with her, I don’t know what I am going to do. It’s not like I am not trying or am avoiding her. It’s just exhausting waiting for a response. I know she is busy. For all I know, she might not be in the clinic full time.

The temps are really messing with my lower back. Sciatica flared up earlier today and now my lower back is aching. I think the weight loss has something to do with it as well, but I could be wrong. I just know I am not eating anything else today. I am just not hungry. The latte killed whatever appetite that I had. All I had today was a handful of pretzel nuggets and a pop tart with some apple juice. This is the longest my appetite has been affected, going on a month and half now. I have lost 12 lbs. so far. I am being careful not to gain the weight back on, but with no appetite, it’s been easy to do. My therapist thinks my stomach has shrunk and that is why I am eating something small and getting full. Whatever works! If I can lose another eight pounds, I will be happy, weight wise, anyway. My jeans can fit me better.

SPSM and Prezi and being a suicide attempt survivor

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

SPSM and Prezi and being a suicide attempt survivor

For the first time in a long time, I felt I was useful to the #SPSMChat that goes on every Sunday at 10 pm EST on Twitter. I learned about Prezi, which I am not sure what it is yet. I thought it was a video thingy but I couldn’t figure it out and I am much to tired to try. I did make a couple of layouts but it crashed my Chrome and internet so I think I will stick with IE.

What I was talking about with Prezi was being a suicide attempt survivor. Twenty-five years ago today marks the actual day I got help, or tried to. It was a very confusing time and my mother had a hard time accepting me as being suicidal. She was worried about me, as is understandable. But I had my own world to contend to that she didn’t know about. I will write that in another blog, but for now, just know that I was living between two worlds, one that I created internally to cope with the external world.

It wasn’t easy the first few days after my attempt, if you want to call it that. My wrist hurt from cutting and then I found out that cutting really released emotion better than talking did. So I started having my cutting kit. I had to be very secretive but then, I sort of was as I was living in two worlds. I had two facades, the one that school saw and the one my home life saw. It wasn’t much different except at home I didn’t talk to anyone. I didn’t talk to my sisters and my father was not there after his violent outburst the day before. A week after all this suicide talk and me not getting any better, my sisters felt that he had to know. I had a large decorative knife outside my bedroom door. I swore he was going to tell me to kill myself by stabbing myself with it. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Instead, he told me to jump off the Tobin bridge. He was giving me permission to kill myself essentially. Nice guy, huh?

I was a straight A student at school. I also had perfect attendance until that night. I think I had to skip school one day to meet with a counselor so that ended my perfect attendance record for the year. It didn’t matter, I lost interest in school. Nothing mattered to me except for dying. I was 15 years old. The school nurse helped me a lot for the rest of my years in high school. I don’t think I would have graduated if it wasn’t for her. She gave me hope every time I saw her and I knew that I couldn’t let her down by being depressed. She wanted me better so I saw the school counselor instead of going to a private therapist. Unfortunately, when the school year ended, so did therapy. I was deeply depressed, more so than I already was. The nurse got me in touch with a social worker at the community school. I saw her for about ten months before she got married and left. I had a breakdown. I skipped school for a week and then in April of 1992, I tried to kill myself again. I threw up the pills and thus saved my life. I lost all hope that I ever was going to die. I felt like more of a failure than I ever was. That summer, I had my first hospitalization and thus started the cycle. I was hospitalized every three months because my suicidality reached its peak and I couldn’t cope with life anymore. The third time I went into the hospital, I came out as being gay. I had dissociated while cutting because I felt an attraction toward a woman on the T (public transportation). I thought I was going nuts until I met someone in the hospital who was also gay. I came out with my treatment team and felt a huge burden off my shoulders. It wasn’t until two decades later I would come out as being transgender.

My teenage years were filled with hospitalizations and cutting. It was a vicious cycle that continued into my twenties. After graduation from high school, I had my longest hospitalization because I overdosed again on the antidepressant I was taking at the time. I was determined to die and no one was going to stop me. Except, a Jewish doctor that felt I had some hope. She told me the only way out of the hospital was if I were to see her. The outside therapist I saw didn’t want to see me anymore. She couldn’t handle my suicidality. So I started seeing her but my suicidality increased. I was in and out of the hospital from August of 1994 to Jan 1995. I felt like no one could love me. Until I met a boy from Nebraska. He was gay and he loved me unconditionally. He didn’t care about my past. He wanted to help me. And he did. I felt that if I had him, I could heal. It took a while to trust him and I did. We had long conversations about school and life and being gay. We joined BAGLY and met others like ourselves. I still felt like an outsider because I really felt like I was a man. I was too scared to tell anyone this. So I was called a lesbian or gay woman instead. My self hatred rose to new levels. But I always held it in check.

Amazingly, I graduated a two year school for medical assisting. I was still cutting. I changed therapists, again. This time I was seeing a male therapist. It wasn’t too long before I fired him. I had obtained the medication to overdose again and when I told him, he asked if I was suicidal. It was the most stupidest question I was ever asked. Do people obtain large quantities of medication just for the hell of it? Granted I didn’t tell him I was suicidal, but getting asked point blank was kind of silly.

After this therapist, I really didn’t want to see anyone else again. It was really tough because either they left me or I fired them. Most of them couldn’t deal with my suicidality as an outpatient. They just thought the hospital was the way to go. By the time I was 25, I had about as many hospitalizations in ten years time. I just figured that was the way life was going to be. I was going to be in and out of hospitals for the rest of my life and I didn’t like that option.

It took years for suffering till I was an undergraduate at a university where I was taking psychology classes. My cutting had stopped, least for now. I had met my current therapist and she wanted to help me. I was taking a class for psychometrics testing. I researched stuff about suicide and couldn’t find a damn one that dealt with pain. There was an overview of assessments, twenty-five in all, and not a single one dealt with psychological pain. Then I came across the works of Dr. Edwin Shneidman. He lead me to David Jobes and the world of suicidology was open before me. I still felt like a hypocrite when I became a member in 2007 but I learned so much. My hospitalization started to decrease. I was using Jobes’ work in my therapy. I was also using Holden’s work as well. My pain finally had a name, psychache. And with it I could finally stop the bleeding. I couldn’t control the bleeding because I still bleed to this day, but it’s much less now that it’s acknowledge and talked about.

I still don’t have supportive parents. My sisters try to be supportive around my transgender issues but I can tell they would just like me to be my birth name and gender. They don’t know how much my suicidality surrounds me not being in the correct body. I hope in time they will.

Bad Pain Day

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

Bad Pain Day

My day has not gone off to a good start. I woke up early, around 0630, and my ankle was hurting so took some pain meds. I went back to sleep faster than I think the pain meds kicked in. When I woke up a few hours later, I thought I was ok. I wasn’t in pain. Then I got up and stood. My ankle was killing me with the pressure of standing. But I had to go pee so had to walk and go down stairs. I don’t remember if I had something to eat or not. I just wanted to get off my leg.

Some time during the night a good friend IM’d me. She needed my input on some gender “privilege” questions. I found the questions to be scary and some of them offensive at the same time. I couldn’t answer them because I didn’t know what to say. Some were yes or no answers, others required more thought. It was very difficult. There were questions about bathrooms and such. I never gave it a thought because I am still my “assigned” gender. Until I have surgery, I will use the designated bathroom for women. I can’t picture myself using a men’s bathroom with knockers on. That is just asking for trouble, in my opinion. And the doctor questions were really biased. A medical professional shouldn’t have to ask what gender you are to swab your throat because you are sick. Strep doesn’t discriminate. But if you are being swabbed because of an STD, I think you should see a different doc.

After I went through these questions, I decided to make some dinner. My ankle again didn’t like me walking on it. Course, my mother was ever so helpful in saying “maybe I twisted it”. Yea, I twisted it while I was sleeping all afternoon. It’s been almost four years that I have been out of work because of my ankle injury and she still doesn’t get it. This is why I hate bringing up my pain issues with her or telling her I am in pain because I get dumbass responses. She still thinks I need to find a doctor that will help me. I guess the 15 that I saw before I was deemed disabled weren’t good enough. If 15 doctors can’t figure out what is wrong with me, I give up, because doctor numbers 16 and 17 still don’t know what is wrong with me. I wish I could see the ankle doctor that I saw when I first hurt my ankle eight years ago. But he is no longer at the location down the street from me. He was a good doc, straight forward, no horse shitting around the bush. I think that is when my ankle started to go downhill, but I will never know. It was the other side of my ankle that I hurt, not the outer part. For the most part, I would say it has gotten better because I am not in as much pain as I was 3.5 years ago. Resting has done it’s job.

But why my ankle would bulge when I put weight on it today, I have no clue. Once I start walking it eases up but soon as I rest and start standing again, holy hell. I was going to take a shower today. It’s no longer in the works. I will try again tomorrow.

My mood kind of sucks right now, not to say it was good to begin with. I still have a heavy heart and black clouds following me. I am really tempted to restart the remeron just so I can have some relief from this darkness. But the risk of gaining weight outweighs the benefits right now. I really don’t want to regain the weight that I lost. Sertraline will be better, if I can get a hold of my pdoc. I’ll start on a baby dose and then if I tolerate it, move to 50 mg. Of course, there is no guarantee that even at 25 mg I will not become nauseated. And there is always the possibility that my pdoc will say no. It’s doubtful, but a possibility. I just priced a new SSRI called ViiBryd and it’s $50/month. If I go on sertraline, it’s, no kidding, $1.35/month, at the 25 mg dose. Sickening.

I have been sleeping most of the day because what else is there for me to do. I am very tired anyways. I wish my CBC showed that I was anemic of some kind that would explain the tiredness, but nope. All came back normal. I hate when there is nothing physically wrong with you when you feel so rotten. It’s just so annoying. Like my ankle pain. Every x-ray and MRI showed normal stuff except for some swelling in a place that wasn’t near my pain. I thought so many times of stabbing myself in my ankle to prove there was something wrong. Even if I damaged a tendon, that would at least be something rather than nothing. There is nothing I can do about the darkness that is surrounding me. There is no x-ray or MRI for that. And it sucks.