Category: depression

Random 582

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

There is a new screening tool for suicide assessment risk that people in Australia created. I read the study to the point where they said that even though the SSF is “the gold standard” for clinical work, it is “inconvenient” as a research and screening tool because of the qualitative answers. Soon as I read that, I stopped reading. Then I skipped to the back where they had the questions and literally laughed out loud. It DIRECTLY asks if you are going to attempt suicide someday. All I could say was “duh”. Can’t get more direct than that! No wonder it is a “great” screening tool. But more astonishing than that, there were over 1000 people who volunteered for this study with “no funding as reported by the authors”. HUH?? How can you conduct a large research study and have no funds to do it? It just sounds suspicious to me. I do like the screening tool and think that it will be valuable, if people in the US actually fucking use it. I have place it here ABCs of suicide risk assessment so you can form your own opinions.

Tomorrow is approaching faster than I would like. In less than twenty-four hours, I see my pdoc to discuss how things are. I still feel dejected. I really don’t want to be here but what choice do I have. If I say that I am still going through with my plan, my pdoc will take measures to ensure my safety. And I really don’t want to go to the hospital. It’s a pain in the ass in all accounts you can possibly think of. Sure it will keep me from myself but I have been doing fine with that the past few weeks. If I was going to do something, I think I would have done something by now. I will just take some Neurontin and sleep. This is the only drug that works for me to zone me out. And it’s safe as it leaves your system in eight hours or so. Only thing that sucks is that it can give you a hangover. But that is why they make coffee. I will NOT go out to Starbucks like I did last Saturday. The days where I trust the T are over after I got stranded in the Square last weekend. I don’t know what I would have done if my sister wasn’t home that day.

I still need to write a letter to my therapist today. I probably will do that later tonight. I was in a “Hyde” mood last night that got broken up by a fellow blogger checking in with me. We chatted until I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore. It was late, past 0100 my time. She is on the west coast so it was “early” for her. I think there is a three hour difference in our zones. It was helpful to talk because we randomly talk about anything and everything. She was in a hypo state and I was trying to keep up with her typing but because I had already taken my meds, I was slow.

It’s finally a cool day. No humidity and medium temps. I like it when it’s in the late 60’s, early 70’s. It’s perfect walking weather. And I did some walking today that my ankle didn’t like. But oh well, I had to walk from A to B to get to where I was going. There was no other way to get there but my own two feet. And it was too short a distance for a cab. It would cost too much and besides, by the time the cab came, I would be at my father’s apartment. But the streets are level so my ankle didn’t like it. I had inclines and broken pavement to maneuver. I was supposed to go to the post office today to mail the first packet of letters for my therapist but I forgot the letters at home. I was mad at myself. I will have to do it tomorrow before my appointment with my pdoc. I will have plenty of time as I will be in the Square at least an hour before the appointment.

I am feeling really sad about not being able to kill myself. I am also feeling angry because I am being made to live a life I don’t want to. With all my pain that I experience, both physically and mentally, I just cannot take it anymore. I feel stupid for letting my treaters know of my plans. Maybe my ambivalence is what made me tell them. Or my fear that I wouldn’t succeed anyway. I am going to be grumpy the next few days. I already am grumpy and upset but even more so. I hope I don’t wake up tomorrow morning, that I die in my sleep. But that doesn’t happen in my family. They just die of old age. I don’t want to live to be old. I will die one day and it will be soon. I just don’t know when.

Left to my Own Devices

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

I am having a late coffee that I hope will keep me up the next few hours. I have been so tired all day that I have been sleeping it away, without medication of any sort! My pain has been minimal but it’s so hot in the house that I rarely leave my room except to eat and use the facilities. Even though I have had coffee, I feel like I can go back to sleep. I haven’t had dinner yet. The coffee is killing whatever hunger pains I may have. So it might be a late dinner tonight. I now have my undivided attention to this blog because I am not expecting my mother to call me. Unless Twitter distracts me…

I decided to type a letter to my therapist today rather than write it. I told her of my day, similar to the first paragraph and also about other things. I had a page written before I knew it. I wish I could write something for my book as fast. I have been going back and forth with editing for my book. I have to enter the edits into the word doc. It’s always a pain because I usually have to use the search button to find the place I am looking for. I have decided the last three blogs are not going into the book. It doesn’t fit with what I am writing, not unless I copy and paste things. I might do that. Then I can go back to writing, least that is what I am hoping. But it doesn’t happen on demand. I think I am better off writing at night because my mood is darker then than during the day. I have three nights before baseball returns. Sox will be on the west coast so the games won’t be until after 2200 east coast time. I hate the west coast games because it just further disrupts my sleeping. I usually can’t sleep right away after the game ends around 0100. And I am up till at least 0300. This is the first time that I am having coffee at like four in the afternoon so I might be up till three anyways.

I miss my therapist, even though it’s only been a week since we last talked. Another week and a half before I talk with her again. I don’t know if she will be in Hawaii the whole time or not. I do hope she has fun, even though she is dreading the trip. I am dreading seeing my pdoc on Friday. I don’t know what kind of mood I will be in. I know I won’t be catching the 10 o’clock bus again. That was too early. I was supposed to catch the 1053 bus but my brain was foggy when I woke up and thought it was the 953 bus I needed to get. There is no 953 bus! I really don’t want to see her. But I am afraid that if I don’t, she will be worried. Hardest thing about being suicidal is trusting a psychiatrist with your thoughts. You always have the fear of being hospitalized against your will once it has been done to you. I have had it happen more than once in my lifetime. I have had more hospitalizations than I can count. In fact, I have lost track of how many I have had. More than 30 by now, at least. It doesn’t make talking about suicide any easier. But my psychiatrist is and has been open to talking about it. She knows me better than anyone. We have worked together for more than twenty years. We have built up a trust that is hard to shake. Most people go through psychiatrists like they were going out of style. I just have had one my whole therapeutic life. Therapists are a different story. I have had more than I care to share. I never thought I would find someone stable in the therapy business. I was seeing on every year for the first 11 years. Now here it is 14 years later and I have the same one. Both of my treaters trust me more than anyone that deals with suicide. I don’t know if it is because they know I won’t go through with my plans or they seem to intervene before it gets too late. I still feel dejected and depressed that I didn’t go through with my plans. If you can’t keep a promise to yourself, what good is making promises? Yet I have also promised these people that if I were in dire straits, I would reach out to them. They also know that I bring myself in when I need to. That has changed because the hospital, for various reasons, is no longer my safe haven it once was. Don’t get me wrong, people need these places for safety. But I used to go there for care that I needed and I no longer get it. It’s just talk for a few minutes and then a few days later, you are out whether you like it or not. I had to fight to stay in last time and it was a real struggle. I also knew that if I was out when I heard about Robin Williams, I would not be talking to you right now. His loss was so devastating to me, as it was to millions of people. But I was in a dark place, darker than I had ever been and if I wasn’t in the hospital, I dread to think what might have happened. Both of my treaters were on vacation at the time so I would be left to my own devices.

I haven’t heard from my writing partner and I have a feeling that those emails are going to be far and in between. She has been posting on various social media so I know she is writing. She has a new book that she just finished before her wedding and is promoting it. I need ways to promote my book because I don’t think it is going to sell very well unless I come up with some good marketing strategies. Problem is, I am not a marketing person! I don’t have the first clue how to sell something. I just hope that Facebook and Twitter works their magic and my book sells. I do belong to some author groups on FB but they mostly advertise romance/erotic novels, which is not my genre. I actually have no idea what my genre is, other than fiction, maybe. But it’s based on my delusions, which is in real life so not sure what category to put my book in.

Fall Apart

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

Fall Apart

I printed off some stuff for my therapist. It’s only been a few days that she has been gone, but I already miss her. I am really bored and can’t sleep. I keep thinking about how she will be devastated if I were to harm myself while she is gone. It’s holding me back but I don’t know for how long. Things are really tough for me right now.

I feel like I am falling apart. It’s killing me knowing that I can’t end my life this week, or possibly, ever. I am too much of a coward. I spent the night following the All Star Game on Twitter. It didn’t ease my ache. It’s after midnight now and I can’t help thinking about taking my life. I know that I should just go to bed but the thoughts keep swirling like a hurricane. I had a bad headache earlier this evening, but it seems to have dissipated. I took some Advil and it went away. I wish it took the heartache away, too. AL won so they will have home field advantage.

I had posted something about “stopping the use of committed suicide” on my blog yesterday. It was a successful reblog. My cousin read the article and she was grateful as her brother died by suicide in 1998. I didn’t know this. I feel bad for her. I see her soon, I hope. She invited me to a party in August.

I am emerged in suicide tonight. I can’t help thinking about it. But it’s getting late and I should be sleeping instead of falling apart. I hate my life and what it has become. I am tired of being in pain all the time. I am tired of fighting my deepest, darkest wishes. I just wish to be gone. There is no hope for me here. I am a useless SOB.

I don’t know what to do with myself. I feel like I am going nuts. All I can think about is death and dying. I really want to die. I wouldn’t mind it if a bus ran me over right now. Though it will be strange for a bus to run me over while I am in my room. Maybe tomorrow it can happen. Or should I say, later today. I just know I don’t want to be here anymore. I am too tired to go on living this way. It’s horrible to be in pain like this and not have a remedy to ease the heartache. I don’t even know what is causing me this pain. It just came on so suddenly and took my breath away. I hate when this happens and there is nothing I can do but listen to music and take an Ativan and hope for sleep. I am so exhausted and I didn’t do anything today to make me exhausted like I am. It’s like I pulled hard labor but I didn’t. Most I did was walk a few blocks to pick up my niece. It was like walking one big block from home to school and back. I usually don’t walk that far because it hurts my ankle. But the weather was really warm and it wore me out walking. I am not even 40 yet and I get so tired so easily. It’s pathetic. I wish my plan were on for Friday. I would end my life then and it would finally be over with. I wouldn’t wake up anymore. I just pass out and die. I won’t say how I will die. I just hope that I do die soon. I pray for death just like those slaves on the plantations that were treated cruelly. But I doubt it. I have a long genes in my family. Hell, my father is 83 and his sister is 91. I don’t want to live that long. I think 39 is a ripe old age.

Suffering going on behind the scenes

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

I finished “Uncle Tom’s Cabin”. It ended sadly, as all slave books do. The hero Tom gets beaten to death by a master that has no regard for the black’s life, or any other life for that matter. The reason I read the book was to learn. I had no idea how cruel another human being was to another race than I did in this book. And it still goes on in other races. The human trafficking is just another example of slavery, though it is being brought to the TV shows, such as Law and Order: SVU and Criminal Minds, more than the news.

My sister just called to remind me that I am to pick up my niece around five. Not looking forward to going out. It is quite warm out. I hope the temp drops a little bit. It’s not humid just very hot. I got the AC on. I had turned it off because my room got chilly but now it’s back to being hot again.

I have yet to finish my editing. I want to get to it sometime this week. I think the reason I haven’t written anything new is because the editing is hanging over me. I wanted to write yesterday but soon as I opened the word doc, my mind blanked out like the page. I hate when that happens.

I’m feeling very angry that I am made to have to live when I don’t want to. It’s been troubling me that I don’t know why I am still here. I should have take my life ages ago, yet I am still here. Makes me think that maybe I am just not “suicidal” enough or something. Maybe I am a coward. Now that I have finished the “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” book earlier than I thought, I really don’t know what to do with myself for the rest of the week. Sure, I have other books to read. But I have no goals, nothing to really look forward to. I no longer work, so that is out. I can’t go for a walk because it will aggravate my foot/ankle. I just feel so melancholy all the time. Meds haven’t helped me, despite taking the vitamin D. I have a lot of time on my hands and it has contributed to me feeling sad and thinking about death. I am tired of being tired. As much as I try to convey this to my doctors and therapist, I don’t think they truly understand my suffering. I think if they did, maybe then they would allow me to die with dignity. I just don’t want to live anymore. Each day is the same. Nothing interests me, nothing brings me joy or happiness, whatever happiness is. I don’t think I have ever been happy. I don’t believe in it. It is too fleeting an emotion. I would like to feel content with my life, but how do you do that when you are in pain every day and think about taking your life because of it? It just makes no sense to me why I should be living this life this way. I didn’t do anything to deserve it, least I don’t think I did. I have not been mean to anyone on purpose, I haven’t killed anyone. The only person I want dead is me. My therapist wants me to live her sake, not mine. I hate her for that.

I have not heard anything back from the NY Times. I am not holding my breath because I know there is a one in a million chance of them reading my email. Or maybe they have and my story is just not good enough. I plan on emailing the AAS to see if they are going to review my book. It has been a month since I have heard from them and still no word. That might be enough to lighten my spirits for a little bit. It’s hard doing this back and forth living/dying thing. Yes, I want to die, but I don’t know how to really do it without hurting a lot of people. So I just continue to go on being. And it hurts so much because I would rather be dead than be in so much pain every day. Trouble is that no one knows the suffering going on behind the scenes.