Starbucks and Drink Made Wrong

Starbucks and Drink Made Wrong

After I had breakfast this morning, I really wanted to go back to sleep. But instead, I forced myself to catch the next bus and headed to my second home, Starbucks. I ordered my drink to the new guy, which was the same person I had yesterday, a Hazelnut latte with mocha drizzle. Instead I got a hazelnut mocha latte. I just shook my head and drank the drink, which was way too sweet for me. If I do order such a drink, I usually ask for 2 pumps of mocha and 2 of hazelnut to try and cut down on the sugar. I didn’t throw a tizzy like I wanted to. I was already in a sour mood because I read a comment on one of my friend’s posts about anxiety. According to my friend’s friend, “Jesus commands us not to worry or have anxiety”. As someone who suffers from occasional anxiety attacks, I found this preposterous. I was very upset about it and wanted to say something but just continued to scroll through my Facebook feed. I can’t believe such ignorance exists in this day and age.

So that put me in a bad mood already. Then my mother called asking if I had any money, which I guess she wanted me to buy her eggs or something on the way home. I told her I was el broko until next week. I came home and thankfully she didn’t ask me to go back out again. My ankle is hurting despite taking a pain med before leaving the house for my second home.

I wrote in my journal most of the time while at Starbucks. I still am irate at the care that I received at the hospital. I see my psychopharm tomorrow and I am kind of nervous about seeing her. It will be the first time seeing her in almost a month. I wish I could say that I am a changed person, but I still feel the same, minus the heavy depression and suicidality. My mood has lessened to the point where I can function again. I have my interests back. Though I am kind of pissed I have an extra page worth of missions in my game that I play on Facebook. In some respects, I am better, but I can’t say it was because of the care I received. I am not saying I was treated poorly. I just wish that some of my issues were dealt with rather than being put off till tomorrow and not talking about it. I pretty much felt that I was just being babysat and checked on every 15 minutes, 24/7 the whole time I was there. I got more help with the contact person than I did with my case manager and attending psychiatrist. I was lucky though. I was half expecting a psychotic break as what usually happens after a deep depression passes. But I guess the hypomania took care of that. I do take an antipsychotic, so I am guessing that prevented the break.

I didn’t make too many contacts with the other patients on the floor. I did connect with one patient and we text one another. I haven’t heard from her today but she is getting discharged today. I might text her later today to see how she is doing. But if the relationship doesn’t continue, I can understand. I have had many experiences with friendships that form in the unit that don’t continue past discharge.

Next week I will be sending off my books to the AAS for review. I am kind of nervous about it. My book is very personal and intimate and powerful. I wrote about my deep emotions and all that goes into being suicidal. The fear of this being criticize is what keeps holding me back from sending it. But I know that if I don’t send it, I will never know how a professional will view my book. It is important that I put my book out there to a professional organization yet I know the downfall of it. My biggest fear is that the books will be sent back with a rejection. But I never will know unless I try, right?

I still need to email the editor of the AAS blog and see when my piece is going to get posted. It has been months and I still have not seen it posted. I know there are many stories to be told, and the blog is only published weekly, but I still think my piece on chronic pain and suicidal thinking should be posted. It is an important topic that often gets ignored.

Voluntary admission

Voluntary admission

I had a meeting with my therapist and a few phone calls to my pdoc today. They were not amused with my blog from yesterday. I was kind of hoping my pdoc didn’t read it but she did, and now I am fucked. Tomorrow morning I have to leave the house early to go in the hospital because that is when a bed will be available. I would have gone in today but there are no beds. So I get to spend another night staring at all my bottles, wondering which will do me in and which will only knock me out. I just texted my therapist to call me as it’s urgent. I really don’t know if I can keep myself safe one more night. Then I will be babysat for I don’t know how many days until I get released. Fun! I packed my backpack and it is very full. It doesn’t have my journal in it so I will need to pack that before going to bed tonight. I could have packed another bag but I want something that will be not so noticeable. I plan on leaving the house before my mother gets up so I don’t have to deal with her. I have not told anyone except two friends (and no blog world) that I am going to the hospital. I keep waiting for myself to “snap out of it” but it hasn’t happened yet.

Therapy today was fun. We went over my crisis response and I am supposed to write down alternatives to my thoughts of suicide. I don’t see anything because the damn constriction is making it so I only see one option, and that is death. I would page my psychiatrist right now and be like I don’t need to go in but I think it is a lost cause. She might send me to the ER if I don’t and I don’t want to spend a night in the ER.

I took a test run today to see what bus I have to take to get to the hospital tomorrow morning. I hope the shuttle bus isn’t crowded. I hate crowded public transportation. It gives me anxiety. I just realized that I didn’t pack any socks that I washed yesterday. I am an idiot!

I am hoping to go to the same unit I was on before. I don’t be able to blog like I do as it will be on phone. If I do blog from my phone, please excuse typos and grammatical errors. I might not catch them. Last time, I wrote a really long blog that I typed up after I got discharged to talk about my experience. I might not do it this time because it was an ordeal. I had several pages to type up and handwriting to decipher. So if I go a day or two without blogging, know that I am in the hospital and can’t right now. I would love to take my laptop but I am too afraid of it getting stolen or worse, dropped. I still haven’t decided which pants to wear tomorrow. I hate deciding what clothes to wear and what is deemed safe.

I severely chopped my eyebrows off today. Yesterday there was one hair that was out of whack and instead of plucking it with tweezers, I decided to use my hair clipper. Bye-bye eyebrow. Today I decided to do the same to my other one. I don’t know which looks worse on me. But I kind of like them being this short. I have bushy hairbrows so the trim, although not even, is ideal.

I really hope that I can be safe tonight. My therapist hasn’t called me yet. I just want to say fuck it and do something. But I don’t think that will go over too well with anybody, including myself. I still am wondering how to play it out in the hospital. If I make myself too unsafe, I probably won’t get my cords to charge my phone and I NEED my phone. I will be there a minimum of 7 days. But I am really freaking out on my therapist being on vacation the following week and be being out in the world. It scares me. They could discharge me anyways, they don’t care if you are suicidal and have plans to end your life. I just am so tired of fighting all the time. I really don’t think me threatening to kill myself when I get discharged will be a good idea. That might keep me there longer, which I kind of am hoping for. I just hope that the fire alarms don’t go off while I’m there. It’s an old building and last time, just steam would set them off. It was horrible! Everything is just so sensitive when you are on a psych unit.

Diagnosis

Diagnosis

Today I finally learned my diagnosis because my pdoc ordered some blood work to make sure I didn’t mess up my kidneys or liver with the OD the other night. I am bipolar I, currently depressed, severe, without no mention of psychotic behavior. That is a mouthful.

My pdoc wanted very badly to hospitalize me today. She wanted me to “push” her to do it and it wouldn’t have taken much to do. But I told her I didn’t want to go to the hospital. I fought her on it and I am to keep in contact with her the next few days. She is on vacation next week and I don’t see her until the 22nd of Aug. My therapist is on vacation starting Aug 11th. I would most likely be admitted for the whole month of August and I don’t like that. I might go in after I get my narcs for the month from my PCP. I can’t miss that appointment or it screws up the schedule. And the last time I was admitted, he took it as I was going to overdose on my narcs and it just was a mess. I had to pay extra because he only gave me a two week supply. I don’t have the money to be paying double.

I half want to email my doc and tell her I still want to smash my head in with a 20lb hammer. But that might section me as I am already walking a fine line right now. She didn’t kill me like I thought she would but she is very concerned about my welfare. The most she could do was force me to get blood work and an EKG. I hated having both done. But it was better getting them done as an outpatient than as an ER visitor.

Right now I am so conflicted. I want to go in the hospital but I am fearful that the demons will come out like they did in this crazy dream I was having about the hospital. I kept telling them I was going to kill myself when I got out, just watch and because I didn’t have follow up care, they kept me. This went on for weeks, least it did in the dream. I know that if I let myself go, I will hold nothing back. It will actually be interesting to see if they discharge me when I tell them I am going to kill myself. But I don’t think I want to find out. I do know that if I don’t have follow up within a week of being out, they might not discharge me.

But the 20lb hammer thing, it is starting to become obsessive thoughts. I still haven’t figured out how to swing the rope so that it hit me just right. But I keep thinking about it. Or maybe get it square in the forehead and hope it does enough damage. Thing is, I don’t know if I will defend against it. My reflexes are good, I think, so if something is coming at me, I will duck out of the way, which will defeat the whole purpose.

My therapist doesn’t know about this idea either. We haven’t had time to talk about it because she keep doing the SSF (Suicide Status Form) on me to assess how I am doing. That was the other thing my pdoc was asking about, how to keep me safe and what plans are in place so that I don’t do what I did on Saturday again. She knows it will take very little for me to harm myself with the meds that I am on. But both my pdoc and therapist knows I am both careful and smart with my meds. But with my therapist tracking my suicidality, my pdoc felt a little better. Otherwise, I think I would be sitting in the ER waiting for a bed someplace.

I feel really shitty. My bowels are fucked up and I don’t think there is enough senna in the world right now to set them straight. I still feel sleepy most of the time. Exhaustion will just wash over me. I think I am still under the meds hangover. So I think I will skip tonight’s dose too. I will just take an Ativan plus my other meds to sleep. Hopefully, the stupid abilify doesn’t send me into hyper mode. It didn’t last night, I think because I was still harboring some of the mood stabilizer in my system. I slept pretty good, got at least six hours straight, which was better than the night I OD’d. I think my pain meds helped because I was really having zaps and exploding pain going through my foot last night. It literally felt like someone was trying to rip off my big toe and smash it with a hammer. Not a pleasant type of feeling.

I still haven’t gotten around to changing my sheets. I keep saying tomorrow and it never happens. I need to wash my comforter, too. I wish I had the energy to do it.

Agony

I got an email from my pdoc today. It was in response to the last email that I sent her, which seems like days ago now. I still am feeling crappy and I told her I was stuck in the black hole of depression. I left out the part of killing myself this weekend, which I might not go through with anyways. I got a lot of supportive comments last night and today with my last blog and that made me feel a little bit better. I was worried that someone was going to send cops after me, but they didn’t. I wrote a thank you comment and stated that my mood had shifted, which it has. My pdoc asked if I wanted to come in, which means in her terms go into the hospital but I told her I was seeing her tomorrow. I just hope that I remember to leave the house early.

It is going to suck tomorrow as I did too much today and my ankle is hurting me. I really need a rest day but I thought I could handle walking from my sister’s work and taking the bus home. I had the worst bus ride home. I thought I smelled because I forgot to wear deodorant, but it was nothing compared to this bus! I also was debating getting my haircut today so I can feel a little better about myself. I decided to get it, even though it meant walking a few more blocks home today. More pressure on my ankle than it wanted. And now I am paying for it.

I saw my godmother today. She is 89 and is not doing too well. For the first time since I have known her, she cried three times because she felt bad that she couldn’t do anything like she used to. She has to have someone with her all the time because the chance of her falling is great. I feel really bad. She got diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease a few weeks before her last birthday. She didn’t seem to be shaking as bad as the last time I saw her. But what got her upset was that she can no longer read the numbers to call people. I don’t know if it is because of her cataracts or just old vision. It was sad to see her sad.

I took my father for his doctor’s appointment. Three hours later, we leave. I was beyond pissed. No one was in the waiting room so I am not sure what the fuck the problem was. I hate my father’s doc with a passion now. He is always late, more than my own doctors, and he is just internal medicine! He isn’t a specialist! With specialists, you sort of expect that you are going to be waiting. It just really put me in a more cranky mood than I was in.

I am still struggling with typing today! I have misspelled so many words, it’s not funny! And it is pissing me off! But I am struggling with my suicidality still. I still want to come up with a will and write people letters on what to do with my demise. Problem with this, is that I don’t really know what to write. I keep procrastinating about it, so I guess that is a good thing because I can’t die if people don’t know what to do after I die. I am thinking of having my friend be the person to call my therapist and psychiatrist that I am gone. Thing that is killing me is that I know it will kill my therapist and psychiatrist to have me suicide. I have been with my therapist for more than 10 years and my psych 20. That is a long time to be with someone. And my psych deserves more than just a phone call. What exactly do you give someone when you are going to kill yourself? I don’t have a date set in my mind like I usually do. This time will just be random. And it’s not like I know what I am going to do to kill myself with. That is bugging me more than anything.