air let out of a balloon

My blog views have gone through the roof. I currently am at 132 for today ALONE. I never had such interest before. I always felt that if I got at least 20 views a day, I was doing good. But never would I imagine that there would come a day that 100 people would read my blog or that a single person would read my entire blog. So I thank you because it means a lot to me.

I still feel like crap. I don’t know if I am getting better or worse. I just know that I am now taking pain killers for my throat pain as it keeps it away for a few hours until it wears off. I was taking two tablets but have now cut down to one and it seems to still do the trick. I would call for an appointment to my doctor but he doesn’t have any openings until next week. I see him anyway. I see him next Thursday. I just hope that I am better by then but I don’t think so as I am now coughing up yellow phlegm. Not a good sign that all is well. And noises are driving me beserk!! I cannot tolerate my mother listening to the TV anymore so I shut myself up in my room where it is quieter. She has to listen to it almost full blast because she is deaf and I just cannot tolerate it. My head still feels like it is underwater. I don’t think it is because of migraine activity because I don’t have a headache. I still am congested and I HATE it. I rather have the annoyances of a cough than have head congestion. Least with a cough you can take medicine for it but congestion, HA, I have tried everything and nothing works. The only thing that does that lasts but for a few hours is my nasal spray.

I talked with my therapist today. I told her I was still planning and scheming to end my life. She wanted details of my demise and I asked her why she wanted them. She gave me some bullshit about her just wanting to know. I was too sick to argue with her so I told her. I then told her about my conflict about my mother and my friend who is depending on me to be there to help her with her writing. I sometimes feel that I can put off killing myself because of these two people and then I get the fuck its and don’t really care. Plan back on. If it sounds like I am ambivalent, I guess I am. Planning your death is not easy. There are many variables you have to account for. And stupid me, I have let the one variable (therapist) in on it. Now my therapist wants me to tell my psychiatrist. I can’t tell her because I know I will be involuntarily hospitalized. If not now, then I know around the time I am to do the deed.

I was also telling my therapist today that I just feel this need to do this more than anything in the world. I don’t know why. I just know that I cannot go on like this. I am tired of always being in the dumps, being in pain, and not being able to walk more than a few blocks. I have tried to cope, to pretend that all is right and that I can make it but I am still struggling for air and I just feel my time has come to an end. I know I will leave a book unpublished but I have my blog. I hope it will be enough.

Since I have been sick, I have not had my coffee all week. Not that it matters anyways as it hurts to swallow. It seems to be all fine after I take my pain pill but sometimes it still hurts and it is so driving me crazy. I wish I had popsicles. I know those would soothe my throat. I have ice cream sandwiches but they aren’t the same.

My endo doc ordered blood work and when I brought it up to my psychiatrist, she wanted some things too. I wanted to get it done Tuesday but because I wasn’t feeling well, it slipped my mind. I am going to try and get it done tomorrow. I have to be fasting so that means I can’t have my coffee. Which is so going to suck! I can take it with me though. I think that is what I will do. Though I don’t see the point as who cares if my cholesterol is high when in less than two months, I plan on being in the ground.

a little bit about psych hospitalizations

Had a frustrating session with my therapist today. She was all in my business on the transgender issues today for some reason. I don’t know why she brings it up and I just get really mad when she does because I feel like she is really getting into my personal business. I just feel like if I want to talk about it, I WILL bring it up, not her. She feels that I should be in a TG group, which I don’t want to be in. Right now I got so many different things going on in my head, the last thing on my mind is my TG. I am really struggling dealing with chronic pain all the time and wanting to escape from it but knowing there is no escape unless I am sleeping 24/7. Today I had a quick shower, less than fifteen minutes, and I still was in pain from standing that length of time. It sucks. I am supposed to have coffee with a friend of mine today. I am still waiting for his phone call to meet up.

The we talked a little about how yesterday fizzled me. I don’t know but I feel like I am going to explode soon with anger toward her. I know that part of the reason is that I brought up the roots of why I am suicidal, though it still isn’t quite clear. All I remember is that I wanted to die when I was eight years old. By the age of ten I was planning my death on my birthday because I didn’t want to make it to eleven. Greed spoiled that plan because I wanted to see what kind of gifts I got and I wasn’t going to kill myself on Christmas. That would be wrong as God would never have forgiven me (this was what I was thinking at the age of ten). I was depressed from then on but always kept it hidden from everyone. I tried to keep it hidden though some days I just didn’t want to be around anyone. I started moving away from my best friend in middle school. We were at different schools and different grade school levels. I didn’t want to burden him with my thoughts of death. He wanted me to see someone but I knew I wasn’t crazy so why talk to a counselor. I just thought that I would get in huge trouble if I spoke to some one outside of the family. Things that went on in the family, stayed in the family. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone what was going on. And it hurt because I was hurting. I don’t know why. My father was an asshole and still is. He cares more about himself than another person. He is part of the reason I turned out the way I did. My mother didn’t really do anything to stop my father from being abusive. She just let him have the run of the household like wives do. And my sisters dealt with it by turning to their friends. I didn’t have too many friends outside of school until high school. Then there was just this one friend but still I don’t think she knew just how great my suicidality was. We didn’t talk about it. We avoided feelings and just hung out and listened to music or do homework. We were the nerds in school. I didn’t mind it. Schoolwork kept my mind off things. Until everything fell apart during my freshman year. I can’t talk about the details because it will just trigger my PTSD. Even now I am getting anxious about it.

So with all this stuff that my therapist knows, why would my TG (transgender) stuff be at the highlight of my life right now? I know that she thinks that the reason why I planned a date is because if I don’t do something to change me, then I will die. But things have changed now. Yes I could move forward to my transition and be all good with that, but that still isn’t going to change the fact that I have chronic pain every day that isn’t helped with medication. Sometimes the medication does help. Sometimes the cream that my doctor prescribed helps. I didn’t plan or maybe I already knew that things are always going to be the same. I am always going to be in pain in some shape or another. And that is why I feel like I can’t go on anymore. It is my decision. No one has the right to stop me. They can try and prevent it by putting me in the hospital but that is no guarantee that when I get out, I won’t kill myself. More patient die on discharge than anything. And even the hospital knows this. They know that if you are chronically suicidal, they still let you out after a few days in. It’s like they are saying “well, we stopped the immediate threat of you killing yourself but we hope that by keeping you here we took that away. No, you are still suicidal? Well you can go home now”. I have had this happen to me time and time again. No I have not attempted while discharged but it left me feeling like no one cared or maybe they just didn’t believe that suicidality can lasts more than 3-14 days. And you know part of it is dictated by the insurance company that you have. It’s like the insurance company says when you are well and when you are not. Soon as you show some interest in groups and start participating in the hospital program, boom, ready for discharge, even if your life still sucks and you want to die. They don’t have time to deal with you wanting to die. Just want to know if today you are going to kill yourself. Because if you want to kill yourself next week or the day after that is fine. You can do that. And I love when they ask you will you come back if the suicidal feelings return. UM, hello, they never left!!

So in essence, you are better off not going in the hospital. The best course is to stay in outpatient treatment as long as possible. Because either way, you are still going to have the same therapist to deal with when you get out of the hospital unless you quit therapy. Then you truly are on your own.

my thoughts for the day

Today was a snow day. I didn’t go out because it was plain yucky out with freezing sleet and rain at times. I have to go out tomorrow so that will be better. I plan on taking a shower tonight so I don’t have to take one in the morning. Sometimes a shower can exhaust me so it is kind of good that I take it at night.

I started writing another paper on suicide. I don’t know where it is going but I decided to define some terms that I think will be valuable and then take it from there. I have to remember to put in copyright at the end of the paper so no one steals my work. I know it could be “stolen” anyways or parts of it very easily with copy and paste, but at least with the copyright it might prevent that from happening.

I made some progress with one of my characters with my game that I play. I am glad I did cause I didn’t think I could as I don’t play it very often. I have three Facebook accounts for this game so I can get the stuff I need to play. Between the four accounts, I use it to advance in the game as best I can. Course I have other player that help out too, but not so much for my other accounts.

Because today was a snow day, I didn’t have therapy this afternoon. I am glad because I was already in a bad mood this morning. I really wanted to go out today but I couldn’t because of the snow. Hopefully tomorrow I will be able to get to McD’s and get a cheeseburger. I have been thinking of it every time it comes on the radio. I know they are bad for you and everything but they just taste so good.

I tried working on my book today but that didn’t happen. I need a break from it for a little while. It is stirring up too much stuff.

I don’t really want to go to group tomorrow. I just feel like I opened up tomorrow and I need more time to process what I said. I just feel really terrible that I talked about transgender and didn’t get a trip to the hospital. It was really weird. I thought I would go in the hospital because people don’t talk about it. My therapist was telling me that Kelly Curic had done a segment on kids that were transgender. That is all well and good but I didn’t have that growing up. I couldn’t express my feelings because it meant I would get smacked in the mouth. Nor did I have the words for what I was going through. I just knew that I was a guy at a young age but I was forced to conform to being the sex I was born with. I had to act like a girl. I couldn’t play sports I wanted to. I couldn’t wear the clothes I wanted to. I couldn’t even wear a baseball hat. My father threatened to cut them all up if he saw me wearing one. So I couldn’t be who I really am without having physical violence with my parents. It killed me whenever he threatened to destroy my property. I just wanted to die all the more. I figured what would be the point in living if I couldn’t be who I was. I envy the kids today that are getting the support and transitioning that they are doing. I wish I had that growing up.

Austin and coffee

Today was a difficult day. I had an appointment with my psychiatrist and then I had group therapy. I first stopped for coffee and had about a half hour to kill before leaving so had something to eat with my coffee. As I am sitting there checking twitter and eating, the guy in front of me sniffles. I then sniffle. We both started talking about sniffling. Well, that wasn’t the whole conversation but that is how it started. We talked a little bit about our lives and what we were up to. We became coffee buddies. I do hope I see him tomorrow, though he says that he gets there early and I am not an early riser. I was only there early because I had my appt with my psychiatrist. His name is Austin. He was telling me how people mess up spelling his name and I asked how. He said with a W. I thought, oh geez. As I left to go on my way, I asked him when he was there most days and he said that time (before 1000), which is way early for me. But who knows. Maybe he will be the reason I get up in the morning and get out of the house for my one cup of coffee.

My appt with my psych went well. This week was our twentieth anniversary. I can’t believe it. I met her when I was 17 yrs old. That was a long time ago. I never wanted to leave her and she never wanted to leave me. So the card I got her it says that we have a weird relationship. That is why we are together, or something like that. I didn’t write anything more profound. I just didn’t have the time but thought those words were enough. She was happy and said that I was the most thoughtful person she knew. I gave her 20 cake pops to represent our 20 years together. I didn’t think of anything else to get her that wasn’t too expensive and too much. I know I should have but sometimes giving gifts to a psychiatrist can be tricky.

I then went to group therapy and like last week, I had intense feelings of wanting to kill myself after the group. This time was because the walk was too much. I got within a block of the building when my foot decided it didn’t want to go any further. It was raining and cold. I pushed further to get to group. It was the same trouble getting back to the train station. I was within a block of the station when my foot got too tired so was doing whatever it walk. At one point I just stuck it out like a penguin’s foot and walk like that for a few steps. It didn’t help but it got me closer to the station. I know tomorrow I am going to be hurting. It is the price I pay for walking.

Group therapy went ok. But again I felt really bad afterwards and called my therapist because I was in crisis again. I promised myself I wouldn’t go ahead with my plans because of my psychiatrist. It is our twentieth anniversary and I just couldn’t give her a present and then kill myself that week. That would be awful of me to do to her. So again I put off death. But I didn’t put off my therapist. She wants to meet tomorrow. She is sick with a cold and I am secretly hoping she loses her voice so she can’t talk. But knowing her she will talk anyway or I will have to talk more. Either way I am stuck with this crazy person.

I wasn’t sure I would finish this paper today. I had a couple of bowel accidents thanks to what I hope to be overdoing it on fiber pills. I had the runs and crapped my pants. I just don’t have any control over loose stool because of my nerve condition CES. I lost control after my fourth surgery. It has been six years now and I don’t think I am going to regain those nerves. It really sucks. The worse part was that my mother had to clean it up. Talk about feeling like a baby. All she kept asking me was to take Imodium but that would cause more problems for me as then I would get too backed up. I hate talking about bowels on my blog but today there is no way around it. It is shitty talk but it brings out the worse suicidal rage in me. I had to email my psychiatrist and tell her I took an extra Ativan because I just couldn’t deal. It was either that or OD on Neurontin which would have just turned me into a Zombie tomorrow. But that is how I cope. I don’t really want to cut. I don’t have the urge but I do want to crawl under a rock and die. I am so embarrassed and humiliated. My dignity went out into the toilet. And I don’t think I can get it back.

What started off as a good day went to the crapper. All because I lost control of my sphincter. That is what it is like living with CES, Cauda Equina Syndrome