From 11/22/2015

From 11/22/2015

Around this time, I was having trouble with my therapist. We were fighting over my suicidality. This is just one piece of the pie. Today 13/Feb/19, things haven’t changed. I still feel suicidal. I still want to write that note. I still want to drink that shot. I am seeking oblivion from feeling so empty and hurt. February since 2001 has been filled with anniversaries. The last one of ending both therapists, one temporarily. The other permanently. My heart is broken. I feel unloved. I feel uncared for. I feel like I don’t have anyone to turn to. I miss going to Starbucks and writing, even if it was in my journal only.
I just have physical therapy now. My schedule is an open book. Sure I see my psychiatrist every two weeks and will be seeing a new PCP. My life is surrounded my doctor appts.
My heart is aching so bad right now. I don’t think it will ever heal. I think dying is better.

Written 22/Nov/15

Regarding my suicidal career
I have been feeling like I should write a suicide note. I don’t know why this popped into my head tonight. I have been really struggling with suicide the past few days. I have a suicidogenic mother. She just brings it out in me. Tonight she called me “dear”. Last night she was calling me a lazy ass and tonight I am a dear? I know she was being sarcastic. She didn’t mean it. Neither parent ever means what they say so how am I supposed to believe them?
I sometimes don’t trust what my sister says either. I am not an emotional person. I just feel cut off from my feelings sometimes. Other times I am just so depressed I can’t do anything. I feel suicidal and that is all that I will feel. I don’t feel angry, I feel hurt most of the time.
I have been avoiding Twitter tonight because I am TiVo’g the American Music Awards and I don’t want to hear about it until I watch it. It’s so hard not being on Twitter. I would so love to tweet some more lyrics of Eric Church.
I am struggling with my suicidality. It would be so easy to die right now. And no one would know until the morning. But I don’t know how to kill myself. That is the whole fucking problem. I don’t have a gun or a high place. I don’t even have a beam to hang myself from. And you can’t die by wishing it. I tried that many a times and I am still here. I feel embarrassed that I told my cousins that I was poor. I don’t know why I told them that. It just came up and I blurted it out without thinking. Now they think whatever they think of me. They probably think I am a loser. That is bothering me, too. I feel like such a jerk. I really want to drink my problems away but I know that won’t help. Plus I just took my pain medication so that wouldn’t be a great idea. My therapist would have a cow if I drank and had my pain meds. She nearly had a coronary the last time I drank and took the meds. All it was, was two pain pills and a shot or two of gin. I didn’t even get drunk. I just slept really good. I don’t think I took my night meds. Tonight I took my night meds so no drinking. I hate that I am so strict with myself about alcohol. I don’t know if this is good or bad. I would love some honey whiskey. I have decided that for my birthday I am having 4 shots of whiskey, one for each decade I am alive, that is if I am still around. Tomorrow will mark one month till D-Day. I am so disgusted with myself for living this long. I never wanted to be an adult. I just really hate myself.
My cousin called me tonight. Left me a message saying where am I, how am I doing, the usual bullshit I hear from him when he doesn’t call me every night. He wants me to call him in the morning. HA, I had to laugh. He won’t be up. He is the one that is healthy but has bipolar disorder. He also is the one that calls me when my mother has groceries. I don’t like talking with him because he never understands the depth of my depressions. He doesn’t get suicidal with his depressions. He just barely functions (according to him) but he does the shopping with my mother and my aunt. He takes care of himself pretty good. Better than I do. I barely left the bed today. Only time I left my room today was to make something to eat or to have dinner with my mother. I didn’t even pee that much today because I haven’t been drinking any fluids. I know I am dehydrated because my pee is always orange. I have no thirst. I am past that. Sometimes I will get thirsty but it’s rare. I bought some orangata by San Pellangrino. I like it. Maybe it will help my dehydration. My grocery bill is over $200. I bought a lot of oatmeal and pancake stuff. I like getting the big stuff because I make a lot of oatmeal pancakes. I also like the simply orange juice and juice isn’t cheap anymore. My mother won’t buy it because it’s more than $3. I also bought a 9×13 pan that was on sale. But those pans are hard to find so I hope it doesn’t crack. It’s a pyrex dish with a cover. I bought it to make my brownies for my birthday. I figure I might as well have what I want for my birthday and this year I want a brownie cake with cool whip and cherries on top. All my mother has to do is mix it and put it in the pan. She also needs to buy the cool whip. I don’t know how long it stays so I figure when it gets closer to my day, she can get it. This is if I make it to my birthday

Ambling swears continue

am still around. Haven’t looked at saws on Amazon, yet. Foot is acting up and my mother is being noisy as hell. Fuck! Had a rough night sleeping. I am tired as fuck. Bowels are exploding. No idea why. Just took meds to sleep the day away. Don’t care because my alternative isn’t pretty. I am sick of being in pain 24/7. Just fucking shoot me now. I can’t go on like this and the weather is going to be painful as hell. So this is how my morning is going. Back in the gutter. Putting plan in motion when I wake up. So tired of insomnia, no pun intended. Ok enough rambling, for now

Lots of things and crashing after

Lots of things and crashing after

I woke up around 5 for some reason that I don’t remember now. I think I was in pain as I remember taking a pain med. I was hoping this was not going to cause me to be in bed all day as I really wanted to change my sheets. I fell back to sleep and hoped for the best.

I woke up with my med alarm blaring. I felt okay. I definitely needed coffee. I was hungry. That was the first time in three weeks I woke feeling hungry. Maybe my sodium was back up. I still feel better but kind of sluggish. I went downstairs after stripping the bed and then used the bathroom. I made breakfast and coffee. My mother wanted a cup so I made her one as well. I found this transgender article and was totally confused by it because it is not how I felt. But I decided to leave it where it was so I could read it later. After I ate, I put the throw in the dryer and then the blanket in the washer. I just had the sheets to do.

I went back upstairs to find my sheets. Before I put them on, I duct taped the corners of the top of my mattress so the damn foam topper wouldn’t go anywhere. I hoped anyway. My back was giving me grief. I had taken a shower before I got upstairs. I had shaved, too. I was sweating by the time I wrestled with the sheets. I was trying to even out the top sheet I didn’t bother to tuck it in. Then I got the comforter and the pillowcase. I put the comforter on and the pillowcase on the pillow. I couldn’t find the extra pillow case for the pillow that goes between my knees. I said fuck it. My back was killing me, I was wiped out, I felt like I was going to pass out and I did. I slept for three fricken hours. I guess the sodium isn’t as high as it should be. I know it is getting there as I am kind of feeling better. The big test is that I am getting my groceries tomorrow. If I survive that without sleeping for the day, I guess I am doing better. If I sleep all day, then I am still fatigued from the low sodium.

I read this article And it was a MTF. I honestly have not come across too many trans that feel this way. I certainly have never felt this way but I am not going to have phalloplasty. It is a complex surgery and I just do not want to go through with it. I just want to be flat chested and grow a beard. The things raised in this article scare me because I don’t ever want my hormones to be in jeopardy. I know that losing my breasts has to be dealt with. I have thought about it so many times. I mean, I am sort of attached to them. I wish they never were formed so I didn’t feel that way but now that they are sort of shrinking slowly, I am glad. It was a huge part of my dysphoria to have breasts when I didn’t want them. I know eventually, I will have to have top surgery and getting a good surgeon is key because I have heard horror surgeries where the surgeon doesn’t care and just does a bad job. Granted this was just in the UK, but I am hoping to find one in the Boston area that is considerate and doesn’t cause nerve damage or anything. That is further down the road as I am not there yet. I don’t know if I can talk about this with my therapist or not. He doesn’t seem to know a lot about transgender and I am kind of pissed because on the website I found him at, said that he did. I am not sure if I will have to find another therapist to deal with the dysphoria or not.

This female is having doubts about getting surgery to have a vagina implanted. I don’t understand why she would go through something like that if it is going to cause her more emotional pain than what she is already in. And I still cannot believe a surgeon would do it when there are doubts. I am not saying my transition has made me bone fide happy, but it has relieved a lot of the tension I was feeling not going through the transition and having to wait so much from the LGBT clinic and then I met my doctor and she is all like when do you want to start. Like seriously, in one visit, I am on hormones. I understand the LGBT taking things slow and working things out but I have known the last ten fricken years, maybe more than that, that I am NOT a fucking female. I am a fucking male. I hate getting misgendered! It really drives me crazy and Microsoft doesn’t recognize misgendered. How fucking lovely.

I have my shot this week. I am excited because I get to do the selfies and post a little bit about changes. Honestly, other than thicker leg hair, there hasn’t been much since last week. I keep getting complimented on the facial changes but I don’t see them week to week. Sure from day 1 to now I do but I think if I lose weight, it will be more prominent. I think I have lost some weight since I haven’t been eating regularly with the whole sodium thing. I really have just been sleeping a heck of a lot.

I see my psychiatrist this week. I am glad because I miss seeing her. I hate these monthly meetings but she is always a page or email away if I really need her. I don’t know what they are going to do about my mood stabilizer. I see my pcp Wed to get my blood redrawn to check levels. Then go from there. I really hate that I have to taper my drug but I don’t know if it is just to taper to a lower dose or off the medication entirely. And I am starting to feel that woozy feeling again, which means I am going to crash soon. I am over a 1,000 words. So I guess that is good for the day. God I can’t wait till this is resolved!

Painsomnia and Midnight Demon Friday 22 June 18

I had started a blog on my laptop to publish yesterday but my brain kept getting foggy and couldn’t focus. I knew if I forced myself to write, it would come out crappy.

Now it is after 2 am. I can’t sleep. Midnight Demon is out. Has been since 10 but had no writing urges. I’m just writing now because I felt like it. I feel suicidal. Been planning for months and now it is almost time. I’m wondering where the weeks went. I haven’t done much other than look over my will. My pension is still wherever it is with my employer. I have emailed my psych that my death is inevitable. I asked her to let me go.

Pain has been decreased by 50% since my new longer acting pain med was started last week. But it does nothing for flares. I am not in a flare. Just pain that is left over from the meds. It doesn’t take all the pain away. Nothing will do that. But this pain is what is keeping me up. That and the thoughts of ending my life. It is like a monkey on my back. It goes away for a while and then comes back full force.

It is a familiar feeling. A part of me knows it will pass. Another parts truly believes this will be the end. I am tired of fighting this. I had made my decision 3 months ago. Now the 3 months is almost up. I extended the date due to circumstances beyond my control. Next week I will check out the location. I hope it will be suitable. I am still afraid I won’t go through with it. My psych might intervene. I don’t know if I will end up back in the hospital. I told her it was useless.

My hope level has been fluctuating a lot. My friend reminded me I’ve been in rough patches before and got through them. I didn’t tell her this was it. I feel so stupid. One of the suicidologists I know that is the president of AAS did a study on the effects of a suicide. In the study she found that >132 people are affected. If that holds true, I will have ~400 or more. And that just includes my online/high school/ co workers friends. Doesn’t include my humungous family.

I feel guilty about this. Today she posted saying that it was a reminder to suicidal persons as they often feel no one care or that no one will miss them. Makes me mad. I don’t want to cause pain to others yet why should I go on in torment of my CRPS and depression? I feel it is a guilt trip. A huge one at that. I stuff those feelings when I am deeply suicidal. Then when it lowers or I look at the people I love, I wonder how could I do this to them? I am in agony over this. It is truly hurting me. Call it ambilvalence. Call it selfishness (please don’t as that is NOT what it is but i don’t know another word). I just am so conflicted as to what to do. I can’t stuff them. I want to die. I need to die. My time is coming. Question is, to be or not to be.