Category: depression

Love/Hate Relationship with Therapy

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, depression, mood disorders, suicidality, suicide

Love/Hate Relationship with Therapy

There are times when I like my therapist. When she is supportive and understanding, it’s easy to like her. Sometimes the like turns to love because she means so much to me. It is at these times when I value our relationship the most. My therapist is very dear to me but then, like tonight, she will say something that makes me hate her. Mostly, this is around her not wanting me to kill myself. I feel trapped by this, and so the love I feel turns to hate. It is not a quick thing to happen. I don’t have oscillating feelings toward my therapist. It is only when I am suicidal and she wants me to live that I really hate her.

It wasn’t always this way. I never really knew how she felt about me till we were four years into our relationship. I call it a relationship for lack of a better word. In 2005, I was severely depressed and snapped. I wanted to die very badly and was planning on ending my life sometime that November. It was one of the lowest points in my life. When I finally confided in her what I was planning, which was not easy to do, she got really upset. I couldn’t bare to see her that upset. In fact, no one till that point in my life was ever upset with me for being suicidal. Her fear of losing me made her cry and I just could not tolerate it. I still cannot tolerate it. It messes with my head. Since then, the love/hate began. The love is just the kind that people have with one another. I told her I hated her tonight and she welcomed it. She said that I could hate her till eternity if it meant keeping me alive. But I don’t like hating someone that I really care for. It hurts me. It causes me mental anguish that drives me crazy. I can’t stay hateful for long. I’m not that type of person. And I do love her more than I hate her. She brings me joy and a little bit of hope every time we talk. I need these things or I will attempt to take my life.

I feel trapped by her love. To her, I can do no wrong. I am not a bad person in her eyes. I told her to read a blog that I wrote that I think is triggering to people. She doesn’t know where I came from, that I always think of others before myself. I write horribly dark, depressing things. But this piece of work is really troubling me. It’s extremely profound in darkness and depression. I want her to read it with a professional’s eye. I want her opinion from her psychologist’s mind, not her love for me. Yes, she loves me, too. It makes me uncomfortable at times. But it also makes me kind of feel unsafe. Because if I love her back and she loves me, that just opens a can of worms I don’t want to open. I don’t want to get hurt again by a therapist. I have been hurt ten times by former therapists and she is my last straw. I know that if we break up, it will kill me. After fourteen years together, it will be extremely hard to start over with someone new.

My suicidality has always been a gatekeeper. She feels that I should have more sessions because I am suicidal. More is sometimes not better. But she wants to know what is happening in my life all the time.

My psychiatrist I have known for more than twenty years. I feel closer to her than I do my therapist because of our long standing relationship. I sometimes think of my pdoc as a mother figure in my life. She is proud of me and my accomplishments, even though I never went to med school like we hoped. That is another story for another blog.

My pdoc is the best. She really gets me, sometimes better than my therapist. I don’t know if she loves me. I know she cares deeply about me. We have been through some tough times together. She is my rock. I know I do love her, but in a way a son love their mothers.

My therapist and I love each other as people do. We truly care for one another. I guess the same can be said about my pdoc, thought we have never discussed our feelings for one another. She is strictly professional in this regard, not to say my goofy therapist isn’t. There are boundaries. I respect both of my treaters. I don’t think I have ever hated my pdoc. The only time that I might have was when she sectioned me a few years ago after I sent her a dark email and she couldn’t get in touch with me. I knew it was out of concern for my safety but that doesn’t mean I had to like it.

My therapist has never sectioned me or made me go to the ER. My pdoc doc knows that I will usually take myself to the ER when I am in a dark place. My therapist will just tack on another session. My pdoc would do the same when I am at my worst points. Sometimes, I would see my pdoc weekly rather than biweekly because she was concerned about my safety. Both of these professionals know me pretty well. I have known them a long time and I am grateful they include me in their treatment plan rather than saying this is how it is going to be. That doesn’t work for me and they know it. I have to be in control of my treatment in order for it to work. And if this helps save a life, then so be it.

A Harrowing Day

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

A Harrowing Day

Since early this morning, before I actually woke up, my phone was going off with text messages. Apparently, the bus that I take was having problems. It was late, real late. So instead of waiting till my appointed time that I was going to take the bus, I decided to catch an earlier one. Soon as I hit the square, there was traffic galore. No wonder the bus was late. I thought the problems cleared up by the time I finished with my appointment but it didn’t. It was ten minutes late and there was an elderly gentlemen with severe arthritis that couldn’t get off the bus at his stop without assistance. I have seen this gentleman before and it’s painful to hear him groan at every move. I feel for him as I know what that is like. This caused the bus to be further delayed while other passengers were helping the man off the bus. I don’t understand why he travels alone. He should have someone with him.

My appointment went well. I met with my psychiatrist and couldn’t help but cry a little. At one point, I thought I was surely going to breakdown but I didn’t. We were talking about how depressed I am about the TG stuff and how my writing is affected by the depression. I also told her my taste buds are off. She sympathized with me because I can’t drink my coffee without it tasting like crap. Everything tastes off. Even the Doritos I had with my lunch didn’t taste right, and they were the spicy kind. I am very depressed and get annoyed quickly.

I finally got in contact with the buyer of my Otterbox. She still has not received it so I told her it is at a post office in her area. I gave her the tracking number so she can track it. I should have used UPS or something and will next time. The Post office is just not reliable.

I woke up in pain again this morning. I thought I would have to walk with a cane today, the pain is that bad. I took a pain pill when I came home because while going to CVS, I misjudged a step and my foot came down hard on the street. That hurt! I still need to pick up my niece but not for another hour and a half from now. I hope the pain settles down some. It is the same type of pain that I have been having the last three days. My psychiatrist asked me about my physical pain and I told her it has been fine so far, not causing me psychological trouble like it usually does. But I fear that if this continues, it might cause me problems. I forgot to tell her I made an appointment with the physiatrist. I’ll be seeing her next week so I will tell her then. She said she wishes she had a magic wand to help me. I was comforted by that. It just kills me that my heart is being torn in two, one for good, the other for death. I told her that I am trying to stay away from plans and stuff but it’s difficult as I already picked out a date. I still want to try my idea, but I didn’t tell her that. She asked if I would be okay for me to walk out of her office. Took me a couple minutes to respond to that. I felt like telling her my idea, but I held back. I see Bozo next week so we will be talking. She also wants me to keep her in the loop more, not just for my writing. I told her ok. Now I know she is worried about me.

Last night I wrote something that I will be blogging soon. It is about the love/hate relationships of therapy. I would have finished it last night (I hand wrote it) but I got too sleepy. I was exhausted from dealing with my father yesterday. I slept pretty good, until my phone kept beeping. I should have shut the ringer off last night but I don’t think of it. Course, I wasn’t expecting 12 text messages from the T either (public transportation system).

Last night I was telling my therapist that I am going to nix the “Darkness” story. I don’t think I can publish it knowing it is so depressing. It’s one thing to publish it on my blog, but a book? Who would want to read it?? I don’t know what to do. My therapist says to leave it and I told her that I am sending her the link to the blog so she can judge it. And she has to judge it as unbiasly as possible. I can never get her to be critical of my work. Course, anyone that reads this book/blog never judges me critically. Maybe it’s me that is judging. I don’t know, it’s just frustrating that I am horrified by my own writing!

What A Day!

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

I woke up in pain, which is the first time in as many days. I haven’t been in pain in the morning in a long time. But it happened today and I could barely put weight on my foot while I was taking a shower and getting around the house to get ready for dealing with my father. I ended up taking a pain pill, something I usually don’t do when I have to go out, but the pain was so bad. I had to take something. I made myself some breakfast before leaving because I knew I would be at the hospital for most of the afternoon and will have a sugar crash around lunch time if I didn’t eat anything. That would be bad because I would become very cranky. I went to Starbucks and got my mocha, free as it was my reward. I had it loaded, with shots of caramel, hazelnut, and espresso (4). I needed the caffeine to get me through the day.

I spent most of the damn morning and afternoon dealing with my father. I had to endure his greedy stories about how bad my grandmother was to him and to her own family (not true by the way but he thinks it is). I couldn’t take the whole conversation, AGAIN. He has it in his mind that my mother’s family is living off the high horse (which they aren’t) and he has to scrape by, which he deserves because he is an asshole. I kept telling him I don’t care to listen to this bullshit (didn’t say that or I would not be living right now), but he kept talking away with such vengeance. I cannot stand him. I hate him. I really do. It stresses me out and all I wanted to do was get the fuck away from him. So much so that I nearly forgot to put one of his medications in his box, so I had to go back to his apartment after I left. He just gets me so riled up it’s not funny.

While I we were waiting for the doc, who of course was running late, my therapist texted me with a time she had available. I really didn’t want a session today but after the stories and lies my father was telling me, I think I need it. Did I mention how much I hate my father? The doc gave us a six month appointment follow up. My father is telling everyone he gave him, “6 months” because he is doing so well. I had enough of his exaggerations. And I still have to deal with him on Father’s day. I was going to get him a gift but I think I will wait until I have money this week. What difference does it make if it’s a few days late? We are taking him out for dinner. I don’t know what the name of the place is called but it’s in my hometown that I grew up in. I don’t consider where I am living now to be my hometown and never will. I hate it here, but I can’t afford to live on my own so I just suck it up.

It was cold when I left the house so I dressed appropriately. Then the heat turned up and I was dying. It got really warm by 1400. I am in my AC’d room cooling down. I don’t care that it isn’t a heat wave, I just need cold air. Because the pain in my foot is still acting up, I made an appointment with my physiatrist (muscle and bone doctor). I think something is going on with either the tendon or with my toes. Whatever it is, I am in serious pain. But I have no swelling, which is odd. Usually I only get foot pain if my foot swells, but it’s not swollen. Damn nerve damage has really fucked me over. I would see my PCP but I know he is just going to refer me to the physiatrist. It just sucks that I am having a hard time getting around today. I don’t have anything to do the rest of the afternoon so I am just putting my foot up on my bed and going to wait till the pain meds kick in. I have thought of moving it along faster by drinking alcohol but I don’t think my therapist or psychiatrist would approve. Honey whiskey from Jack Daniels will have to wait another day.

While I was at Starbucks this morning, I did some writing, but no editing. It was way too early and I didn’t have the brain power to do it. So I just wrote in my journal for an hour. I was tempted to get a breakfast sandwich but my funds are running low so I have to be skimpy. I have a 0930 appointment tomorrow with my psychiatrist so I need coffee more than a sandwich. I think I will have the same drink I had today. It was very good! I love my snickers latte.

I forgot to mail my therapist her letter, again. I totally forgot about it until I was at the bus stop. Figures. It’s just about the book review that I wrote, nothing else. WOW, I cannot believe the throbbing of my toes right now. It’s like someone is hammering each bone in my foot. I feel really nerve wracked about this. I hate being in pain and I have been most of the day. I had to walk to my father’s pharmacy to pick up his prescription and then walk to his apartment complex. The doctor just wrote for a week’s supply, which I am not happy about. I called and left a message as that is just not good practice. If it was his cholesterol pill, fine, but it’s his heart medication that controls his heart rhythm. My father has afib so kind of needs this medication. And I hate that I would have to call back next week for yet another refill because this asshole is an asshole. My father doesn’t have an appointment with him till the 30th. He could have written the script until that day, which is two weeks away. I just get frustrated with this doctor. He is always in a rush, writes shit while not talking to you, flips through papers while trying to talk to you, and I just get annoyed. He thinks I am going to jump ship to his system, he is crazy. All my father’s doctors are at the hospital I took him to today and that is where he is going to stay. I am not going to switch him to the worst hospital in Boston because that is where this jerk practices out of. Not while I have a say over my father’s medical care, and my sisters are behind me on this. It’s just sad that I can’t get a PCP at the hospital where I take him. If I worked there, I would know who to call but I don’t anymore.

What the fuck is it with my parents annoying me today?? I know I am in pain and that doesn’t help but fucking A. My mother just called about dinner and was being snotty about it because I didn’t want eggs. UGH! I need to get the fuck away from them, I really do!

My Saving Grace

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, depression, mood disorders, suicide

Figured I would start writing and see where it leads me. My mood is still awful, though not really suicidally awful. It has tampered down from the other night. I am in pain tonight, which is clouding my judgment on things. I want to attempt but I am afraid that I will bail. I see my psychiatrist in two days, well, one day now that it is almost Thursday. My therapist is full so I won’t be talking to her, unless she has a cancelation. I don’t know why I am having these thoughts and they always seem to happen at this hour. It is so peculiar. During the day, I have fleeting thoughts of self-destruction but at night, the feelings intensify. I know I am tired and most likely vulnerable, but I also want to sleep and cannot.

I just finished a chapter in the “Idiot” and am so confused. I know someone is going to die soon. I just don’t know who it is going to be. I also know that the main character Myshkin is going to have another fit. I just don’t remember when it will be.

I am listening to Taylor Swift. I find that listening to her when I am in this kind of mood temporarily lifts my spirits. Her music is my saving grace. I started off the playlist with “Love Story”, which is my #1 favorite song of hers. I don’t know why her music lifts me up. Most of her song are definitely upbeat, especially her latest album, 1989. But I love her as a person. I can’t love her more than that because, well, it would be weird with the age difference and all. I am more than a decade older than her. And she is straight, so it wouldn’t work even if it could.

I know since she has left country and went pop, there seems to be less woman on country radio. There is a huge populace of male artists/groups. Where are the women of country?? Sara Evans, Jo Dee Messina, Mary Chapin Carpenter (long gone I know), even Carrie Underwood. For every male song out there, there seems to be less female songs. It’s just sad that the men have overtaken the radio waves.

I still have been thinking about sending my sister a message about the TG stuff. I just need to get out of this funk of depression. Otherwise, I might try to take my life before anyone knows what for. I just really am vulnerable right now. The slightest thing that goes wrong, I fear I might do what I have been thinking about. I don’t need to be in the hospital. It would be pointless and besides, I would get discharged without any treatment. The most they would do is drug me up and then send me home. That is not what I need. I tried to extend my stay the last time I was in, and it was not a good experience. I really don’t want to repeat it. It has been almost a year since I have been in the hospital. And besides, with me having to pick up my niece the next week and half, I really can’t be in the hospital. I hate being in the hospital because it always messes up my med schedule. You have to take them when THEY say you do, not when I want to take them. So it I take my meds at 2100, I can’t take them at that time. It has to be before that time. Or if I want to take them at 1900, I can’t take them until 2000. It just sucks. And the amount of pills they give you is way more than what I take I home. For example, they break up my BP meds so I am taking four pills instead of one. It drives me nuts!! I am at the med counter for at least twenty minutes because I am throwing back like 20 pills when I take half that at home. That is one of the reasons I don’t want to go back to the hospital.

I read an interesting blog today. It was a letter to a “friend” and it was signed “nervous wreck”. Here is the blog: https://talkingthisandthat.wordpress.com/2015/06/02/a-letter-of-regret-from-your-anxious-and-depressed-friend/ . it is an interesting letter and I like it a lot. It is kind of like the spoons blog but this is for mentally disabled people.

I am sort of glad I have an appointment with a NP next week. I think I have a lump under my armpit. I don’t know what that means. But I know it can’t be good. I probably won’t do anything about it if it is a lump. Free cancer, I will take it if it gets me to the grave faster.