Category: mental illness

this is just a blog

by Midnight Demon, posted in depression, mental disorders, mental illness, suicide, suicide attempt

This is just a blog as I finally have some idea of what to write. This blogging every day has not been easy for me so I have learned to blog every other day or so just to keep things fresh. Most of my blogs deal with my severe depression and negative thinking. I cannot help what pops into head and what I write. My writing is my release from the everyday misery most people call life but I call hell.

Past few days I have been getting the itch to do something, anything, to try and get my leg swelling down. I have been in bed most of the day today but still the swelling has not gone down so I went out to get some cookies and some oatmeal because we didn’t have any in the house. I ordered lunch from Redbones, a southern place that makes good ribs. One rib was really fatty and disgusting so I let it be and ate the other less fatty ones. Though I usually enjoy their ribs, I found that today’s selection was not so great. I tried their fried Okra for the first time and it was tasteless. Twenty bucks down the drain. I should have tried to make the trip to Boston to get my bottle of Chianti and Pad Thai from the King and I restaurant. They have the BEST Pad Thai in this area.

Pain is bad in my ankle so I didn’t end up going farther than a block from my house. I still want my bottle of wine and Pad thai, maybe tomorrow.

I have had some good ideas on what to write for future blogs but I just can’t seem to get more than the ideas out on paper. For instance, I started writing about myself as Michael and that is where I ended. I could go no further than that. I guess because Michael means so much to me that I have a hard time expressing him. It is really personal to talk as Michael. Michael is my transgendered persona. I am a transgendered individual and I have been struggling a lot with this the past few years. It is getting more and more real as I try to think of what I want to be named. I hate my birth name but then I hate everything about me. From my face to my breasts all I can see is ugliness. I am ugly and no one can really tell me different no matter what they say.

Since I was little, I always preferred to be called “Mike”. It just sounded like a cool name. I would play pretend with my best childhood buddy. He would change his name to John and I would be Mike. I longed for the day when I could really be a “Mike”. It has been difficult the past few years because frankly I just rather kill myself than change. I remember watching a “Bones” episode of a transgendered female and though he had hormonally been a female, his bones still showed her to be a male. I find this very depressing. That I can go through the hormonal change and all but still have the bone structure of a female is haunting me to no end. I cannot change that no matter how hard I try. It fills me with a sadness that can be palpable. 

I have not discussed this beyond my blog and therapy sessions. It is so hard to talk about. Why am I putting it out on the world wide web? Because I am hoping that someone will read this and think “yup that is me” and understand what I am going through. It can be anonymous, I will never meet this person but at least they will know that they are not alone with this. I am trying to come to terms with it and have difficulty and knowing that transgendered persons are more likely to kill themselves are a big concern of mine because I can also be so suicidal when my identity is attacked. I still am around and I am sure others are also. I am sure they have attempted to kill themselves because they are tired of living a lie like I am. I feel crazy and sometimes like a freak because I know that I am a female but my head keeps telling me I am not. I can’t explain it more than that.

seriously want to know…

by Midnight Demon, posted in depression, mental disorders, mental illness, suicide, suicide attempt

Seriously want to know why I take meds when it doesn’t seem to make a difference. I really believe suicidal thinking is more of a psychological think more than a biological thing, because shouldn’t I be better with meds than without? I have been on meds since I was sixteen. I have had many suicide attempts while on meds and while off meds, my most serious attempts being while ON. I am not saying that the medication that I take for my mood disorder made me suicidal. If that were the case, I think I would be dead by now. But seeing as I have been doing what the books tell you, to be in therapy and to have a medication regimen, shouldn’t I be LESS suicidal or at least a little bit more content with my life that I am not thinking of taking my life every day?

I have been on all the different psychotropic medications out there, from lithium to valproic acid, from Prozac to Zoloft, from remeron to cymbalta, all of the anti psychotics to deal with the nagging voices in my head that criticize me and tell me to kill myself. These voices sound like real voices to me and sometimes I have to be careful when others are around because they do think I am crazy when I have a conversation with myself. And I mean a full-fledged conversation with questions and answers. I don’t see my voices, just hear them. And a tiny pink pill called Abilify helps me to control them when they get too loud.  Nothing else works with less side effects. And side effects is what kept me going from med to med to what I take today which is a handful of pills a day. Not only do I take meds for my mental illness, I take it for my blood pressure, menstrual cycle, GERD, pain, spasms, anxiety/worry, and allergies. I long for the day when I was only taking one or two pills a day.

Life has become more complicated and so my has my suicidality. I thought that if I stayed in talk therapy, I would be better. I thought that if I took medication, my moods would be better and I would be able to function. But none of that is true for me. I have struggled with this illness for the past twenty years and no break has happened. I am constantly depressed, constantly suicidal. I just cannot be happy or if I am it is short lived. My one highlight of the day is my Starbucks trips. I get my latte or mocha and all is right with the world for a little while. I might write in my journal or just watch the traffic go by on the street or just take my coffee and head home, which is what I do most days. I just cannot be out for more than an hour. I become fatigued too quickly and then need to lie down. Plus if I stand long while waiting for the bus, my leg gets inflamed and then starts hurting me. I hate being in chronic physical pain almost as much as I hate being in chronic psychological pain.

Why do I still continue to take my meds despite not feeling 100% better? I know what my life is like while taking the meds versus when I don’t. it’s not pretty. I can barely get out of bed and do things on most days when I don’t take my meds. Taking my meds give me the hope I need to try and see the silver lining in some shape or form. If I didn’t believe that a tomorrow will be better than today, then I think I would have killed myself a long time ago and succeeded. I know I don’t have much to live for. I am hopeless most days. But I do the routine as frustrating as it can be some days. I know my psychiatrist has helped me more than anyone. She is my rock of hope when I no longer have one. When I went on a med hiatus, she is the one that got me back on the meds because my heart was so heavy I didn’t think I was going to make it.

There are some people in my life that I am still here for and I guess that is why I take my meds. I have to be here for my nieces and nephew. I don’t want to. I rather be six feet under pushing up daisies for an eternity. But not today. Today is a dreary day in Boston and I am just going to sit in bed and write this story about why I take my meds and maybe sleep some. I have nothing else to do today. It is my day to relax and put my feet up. I ran out of spoons on Tuesday and today is the day that I am trying to collect them back.

sense of humor keeping me alive?

by Midnight Demon, posted in depression, mental disorders, mental illness, suicide, suicide attempt, transgender

Sense of humor keeping me alive?

Been thinking about this today.. I was at an interview meeting for first year medical students and I remember joking a lot with the interviewer. I was talking about serious stuff, like my suicide and transgender issues and I kept thinking why is every one laughing. I was laughing at myself, but inside. The voices were watching me and I could tell they were not pleased. They always get nervous when I tell people my most personal thoughts. I guess they get jealous when I tell people outside because the voices are lonely and they need me to continue to talk to them to exist. I have not been faithful with my medication the past few days. I find that my mind is better for writing when I am not medicated than when I am. It truly sucks trying to write and you can’t because the thoughts just are not flowing.

I began reading a book on sibling suicide written by a friend of mine. I had no idea how suicide affected siblings. I never thought about how my sisters would react to my death if I died by my own hand. I was more afraid of their children’s grief than theirs. I guess you can say I am too old to kill myself but that does not mean I want to live. I am forced to live because of my responsibilities to others. That is why I am still here. I can joke about suicide and suicidal thinking, because it is who I am. Right now I am feeling like the biggest asshole on the planet and I am betting not a single person on facebook responds to it. I know I post a lot of statuses. It is because I am bored most of the time and have to tell people what I am doing like they really care. I find that less meaningful statuses draw more attention than serious ones. I don’t know why that seems important to me but I have noticed it. Very rarely do my family members respond. Usually my friends do. Even those that are across the pond will respond. I know that not everyone can respond to each of my twenty or more statuses but the ones that mean the most to me are the ones that I find the most painful. I complain a lot about being in chronic pain. I use my Facebook status to vent about how awful I feel, both physically and mentally. It is very rare that I will post I am having a good day. The days last week are gone and I doubt they will happen again. I feel like my air has been let out of the balloon and now I am back to my usual level of depression.

Today I had a migraine. It was really bright outside and I resented having to go out to this meeting but I agreed and I always hold up to my commitments no matter how bad I was feeling. In this meeting I divulged more than I should have and I think that is why I am feeling very terrible now. I can’t shut up the voices in my head. They have been chattering non-stop since I have come home. I have been trying to read to drown them out but it does no good. They keep telling me I am a loser and won’t amount to a thing. That the book deal with my friend will never happen, that it was a joke to start with and I am starting to believe them because why would someone want to hear my voice? What makes me so damn special that others want to know my struggles with depression and suicide and being a transgender or being homosexual? But am I really homosexual if I am a guy and like women? I am so confused!!! I just want to fricken die rather than deal with this stuff. I know that I must continue to live to make others happen but it’s killing me to struggle every damn day, whether I pee my pants, crap my pants, am in chronic pain with my stupid ankle or have the nerve pain from hell or just have the biggest psychache in the world for no reason other than I am not who I am. I am a guy trapped in a woman’s body and it is killing me to be this way.

a little of this, a little of that

by Midnight Demon, posted in depression, medical, mental illness, suicide, suicide attempt

To write or not to write, that is the question. Been trying the past few days to write something, anything and I came up with nothing. I had jotted down one of my statuses as a starter to write but it too has not gone anywhere. Right now as I am writing this I am becoming exhausted. I was hoping my therapist would call me tonight but it doesn’t look promising.

Been thinking the past few days about needs. Everyone has some need that is not being fulfilled at any given time. Shneidman, the father of suicidology thought there were 20 needs that lead to suicide. I talk about him a lot in my writing so people know this sweet man that called me out of the blue one day. I was actually shaken up by his phone call. To me, he was as famous as Richard Gere. I was so honored that I didn’t know what to say to him when I called. Time was of the essence because his health was frail and if he died before I called him, I would never had the courage to talk with him for a half hour that truly was the highlight of my life. Now if Dr. Jobes ever calls me, I will have a heart attack. He is another person I deeply respect because he writes about suicide and what it is like and not only this but developed an assessment that can be used to help save someone’s life. I will write about his works until my dying day because he has the knowhow of what it is to be suicidal. I am not saying that he is or ever has been suicidal, but he has lead the way in the collaboration of so many professionals for one goal, to end suicide. Granted not all suicidal people can be saved, but he is willing to try, which is more than what I can say for some of the top professionals in Boston. I had my doubts ever since I tried getting a new therapist and failed, ten times!! No one would take me on and then the one, the last one that did was afraid of me. I couldn’t be in that therapy if someone is afraid of me because I am high risk. Sure, statistically I should be dead. But by the grace of some higher power, I am not.

That brings me back to the needs. I have been thinking about what my needs are that are not being met that drive me suicidal. I know that I am not loved, I have a need to feel important because I think I am nothing, I have a drive to succeed but yet I know I will fail. That truly is my biggest thing. I failed at killing myself and feel terrible at that loss. It is a loss that I have yet to get over. I still truly believe that I am meant to die by my own hand though there still is a drive to keep me going. I was asked recently on what it is that keeps me here. To tell the truth I have no idea. Some part of it is faith and hope, others is a pesky therapist that will “die” if I die. The aftermath of a suicide is not pretty. I sometimes wish I could be a part of Jobes world for a little bit and see what he sees in a hopeless case like me. What he would say or do to try and ease my suffering and then I look at my therapist who is doing all she can to keep me sane and alive. There is nothing more that she can do that what she is doing. Suicidal thinking has become a part of me that I can’t let go. I read about it every day to try and ease my pain, I work with my therapist who is a pain in the ass sometimes and she is open to my ideas of what treatment is and does not have the “I know it all you know nothing” attitude. If she did, I doubt that I would have stayed with her for this long.

The twenty needs are abatement, achievement, affiliation, aggression, autonomy, counteraction, defendence, deference, dominance, exhibition, harm avoidance, inviolacy, nurturance, order, play, rejection, sentience, shame avoidance, succorance, and understanding. If I was to fill out the model of the needs, my highest would be affiliation, achievement, succorance, nurturance, and understanding. As I have written in a previous paper (https://midnightdemons7.wordpress.com/2012/09/03/is-suicide-caused-by-psychological-pain/),  the twenty needs are weighted on the sum of 100, though Dr. Shneidman does not say what the scale is for each of the 20, and as much as I have tried to ascertain this information through his research, I have not been able to find it. Everyone has these needs in some way shape or form. And when they become blocked or frustrated, suicidal thinking occurs. I know my need for affiliation is great at times that sometimes I get frustrated. I don’t necessarily become suicidal all the time because I have not been friends with someone but I’ll admit that it is lonely when you don’t have too many friends that call you anymore or that just keep in touch via email. I am a loner by nature but that doesn’t mean that I am friendless.  My online contacts mean more to me than my non-online friends. My family does not know too much about what I write, if they read my blogs at all. But this is my livelihood, writing about suicide because it means so much to me. It is the biggest demon I have had to face in my life and sometimes it gets the better part of me.

This past April I went to the annual conference of the American Association of Suicidology and found out some things I already knew. I met my favorite suicidologist and his trainees again. One of his trainees has become a good friend of mine. I also found out that I am a hopeless case that no one in their right mind would want. I am high risk, psychotic and delusional at times, and have multiple suicide attempts. I asked one of the guys from Mayo about this “case” I was working on and he wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole. Thanks dude, you really shown me how much hope I have for my future. It was an exhausting trip. Next one is in Texas and I am not sure if I am going to go. I have never been that far out west. I really don’t know anyone close by. I would have to stay at a hotel for the few days. But it might be fun to meet up with my co-author and discuss my book that she wants me to write. She is the biggest proponent in my writing right now. She had me publish my blog and it has done well so far. Since I started it in July, I have had almost a thousand views. I hope that I am able to meet up with her in Texas but I don’t think I will have the financial resources to pull it off.

I got notification this week that I am found to be disabled. My social security disability has gone through. I now can collect a check every month while I write and not have to worry about how I am going to pay for my Starbucks coffee habit. Starbucks is truly what keeps  me going some days. It is a chance for me to go out of the house, even if it exhausts me. To have that one cup of joy a day is usually all I can get out of my day. Instead of my mocha, lately I have been enjoying the Blue Java of Indonesia. It has a full bodied flavor that I like. I have tried the Panama but wasn’t too thrilled with it. It was a little too earthly flavored. I am going to try the blue mountain as it seems like I will like it. But none of this would be possible if I was not deemed disabled due to my mental illness. Since I found out I have been more depressed. I find it more exhausting to do tasks. Even my writing as dwindled to what it was. I try journaling to keep the ideas going and sometimes I will write something I think worthy of a blog but mostly I keep my personal thoughts personal. There was a time when I used to share my journal with my therapist as a sort of therapeutic processing, but seeing as I don’t see her physically anymore, I might end up sending her an email about my thoughts on certain things. Like my suicide attempt paper I wrote that was extremely difficult for me to write. It stirred up a lot of emotions, some of which I had no idea I was still carrying around.

The reasons I am still around are many but sometimes that is not so obvious in a crisis. It truly is up to the individual to make the choice and no one can take it away. But if they let a professional know they are hurting and thinking of taking their life, they might be able to get the help they need. I just hope that with that help the person finds someone who is understanding and asks, “where do you hurt”?  Because otherwise it is going to be a long road for that person to find the help they need. Not all professionals are alike. They have different disciplines and treatment plans. But if they are able to find a therapist who is willing to take them as they are, that therapist is worth their weight in gold.