Category: psychache

Dealing with Chronic Pain and Suicidality

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, Chronic pain, chronic physical pain, depression, grief, mental disorders, mental illness, mood disorders, psychache, psychosis, suicidality, suicide, suicide attempt

Dealing with Chronic Pain and Suicidality

Over the past few days, I have been in moderate to severe pain. I have a pain syndrome that flares up without warning, usually right before I am to go to sleep. I will lie down and my ankle and foot will flare up with pain. Normally, I will just take a couple of pain pills, wait for them to kick in and then go to sleep. The pills work because it’s physical pain. What is really troubling me, lately, is the persistent pain, night after night after night.

It doesn’t matter what I do during the day. I can go out, have my daily routine of going to Starbucks and writing for a bit before returning home. I might be out for an hour or two, depending on how much I feel like writing and if the coffee holds out. Lately, despite drinking coffee, I just want to sleep. I have been sleeping more the past week that I have the entire year. A dear friend says that it’s because I haven’t been sleeping and I should take advantage of it because it might not last. I agree with that. It’s unusual for me to sleep all day as I never usually do unless I am deeply depressed.

The other night, I snapped when the pain hit. I became really suicidal and seriously wanted to end my life that night. Trouble was that I was in no position to do it. I vowed never to kill myself in my home where my family members could find me. I have a place that I want to go but the heat has been the only thing holding me back, at the moment. I feel like I don’t have a life. That this battle between chronic pain and depression is just too much to bear. I am tired of fighting it night after night after night.

It’s a tiring battle. I think that is part of the reason I have been so tired lately. I am just mentally and physically exhausted from dealing with my mental illness and my physical illness. No one knows how hard it is unless you deal with one or the other. The past few hours, I have been dealing with a rebound of songs in my head that sound like they are playing but they are not. It’s part of the psychosis. And for the past year, I have been battling that aspect of my illness.

I have known since I was 16 that I needed to be on medication for the rest of my life for my mental illness. I knew there was no other way to deal with it. Through trial and error, I finally found the right combo of meds. Unfortunately, finding the right antipsychotic meds has been elusive. Medications that used to work, no longer do so. I have gone back to the older generation of meds because they work for me better than the second generation. It’s a little bit more riskier because of side effects but I am not on that high of a dose. I just hope that in a month or two I am still on the same medication and that I don’t need to change. That is my fear.

I have known for a very long time the odds of me taking my life is great. I am in the high risk category of risk because of my past history. I can write about this history but it’s not important and will take up too much of time. I just know that one day my life will end by my own hand. I know that this will happen because I feel it. I know that it will happen sometime this year. My biggest fear is that if there is a heaven or hell, I will spend eternity with my father and that is something that sometimes keeps me here. But I don’t believe in those things but who knows what truly happens when you die.

They say that most people who are suicidal just want to end their pain. That is true. I want to end my pain and my suffering because no one can help me with it. Yes, I take pain meds to deal with the physical aspect of my suffering and it does help. But it does nothing for my psychache, for my psychological pain that I feel. I still feel that I should die because I am so damn tired of living this so called life. I don’t have a reason for living. I don’t have a purpose. I have nothing keeping me here. Sure I have my family that are dear to me. But what good is it if I can’t enjoy their presence because of pain? That I can stay with them for a short while and then have to go back up to my room to put my foot up because otherwise I am in too much pain to be good to anyone? Sometimes, I really think that my family and the people in my life will be better off without me.

An Open Discussion About Suicidal Thoughts and Chronic Pain

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, Chronic pain, chronic physical pain, depression, mental disorders, mental illness, mood disorders, psychache, psychosis, suicidality, suicide, suicide attempt

An Open Discussion About Suicidal Thoughts and Chronic Pain

For the past twenty-four hours, I have been in a suicidal quandary. Last night I was in severe pain for the umpteenth time in a row. I had wanted to go to sleep but my ankle said, nope, not yet. I got really angry because I so wanted to sleep. It was past midnight. I had finished watching the ball game. I had winded down. I was ready for sleep. But pain said no and because it was the third or fourth night in a row that this happened, I was fed up. I wanted to kill myself. I felt there was no other way to escape.

My pain is well managed. All I had to do was take two pills to quiet the pain down and then drift off to sleep. I took the pills and waited for the throbbing to stop. Within an hour, it did but my brain didn’t. I was still pissed and suicidal that I just wanted to give up. I went over the plan I had been thinking about the past few months, wondering if it would work or not. A doctor friend told me it would be painful but I knew that. I also know that it would be at least 2-6 hours for the pills to work. That is a lot of time.

My friend understands about the chronic pain that I have because she also suffers from it as well. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have adequate pain meds like I do. I am not planning on ending my life with my pain meds. Far from it. If the area that I wanted to hang myself wasn’t fenced off, I would go there and do the deed. But it’s fenced off and I am not a good climber.

It doesn’t matter what kind of pain you are in, physical or mental. It still makes you want to end your life. Unfortunately, I have both so I am in a pickle. I have the raw end of the deal. I write about my suffering because I hope that it will help someone. I am not feeling hopeless. Just disgusted that I have to rely on pills every single day to give me relief from my pain, either it be my pain meds or my psych meds. Recently, I have been psychotic and that opened up a big kettle of worms. I thought I would have to go back to the hospital but my mother became sick and needed care so I couldn’t go. I had to be treated as an outpatient and take my care more seriously because my mother needed me.

I know the devastation I will bring to my family should I die, not only my family but to those around me. I talk about taking my life on this blog a lot because it helps to write about it. Doesn’t make me feel less suicidal but it helps with the feelings of not being able to do anything about it. Last night I was close to killing myself and if I had a clear plan, I probably wouldn’t be writing this right now. I don’t know if another hospitalization is in my future. I have grown hopeless about that kind of treatment because there is no treatment in the hospital anymore. The mental health professionals and insurance companies just think that a few days in a locked ward is enough to reset your thinking and make you think you have a life worth living. It’s a big crock. For some it is helpful but for those with chronic illness like me, unless you get treatment, actual therapy, it is just a waste of time.

I am not saying I have the answers to the mental health system because it is different in every state, and that is not the purpose of this blog post. But talking about suicide is similar to everyone who experiences it. People are literally dying because they don’t want to be in pain anymore. They don’t want the stigma that means having to take a pill to control that pain is causing them. Sometimes the stigma is greater than the treatment of the pain. Every day I wonder if I am an addict and will my meds be taken away from me because my pain is controlled with meds. I know that if any doctor takes these pain meds away from me, they might as well be signing my death certificate.

You can say that I can’t have it both ways but I am so tired of not having a life because of pain. I can’t walk like I used to. Just walking a few blocks brings me horrible pain. Last night I washed dishes and I think that is what set off my ankle pain. For the ten minutes it took me to wash four dishes and two cups. I can’t drive long distances because my ankle will act up on me. I never know what sets off my pain. And the docs aren’t sure what is causing my pain. Some kind of pain syndrome but they are not sure what. My quality of life sucks because I can’t go to family functions and things because my pain limits me. I test the boundaries every day and I am rewarded with pain. Then add mental illness on top of that and it’s not a pretty picture. Sure I was depressed and suicidal BEFORE I had chronic pain. But I also was able to hold down two jobs that I somewhat enjoyed.

I am not trying to boo-hoo my life. I just hate the way I live and I just don’t want to live anymore. It’s too painful, both physically and mentally.

Major shopping done and the suicidality from last night

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, Chronic pain, chronic physical pain, mental disorders, mental illness, mood disorders, physical pain, psychache, psychosis, suicidality, suicide

Major shopping done and the suicidality from last night

I got my monthly groceries today. I just finished putting everything away that needed to be put away. The breads I left out for my mother to deal with as the refrigerator needs some shuffling. I am not good at that. I am disappointed they didn’t have my hot dogs and one of the 12 pks I ordered, they decided to give me two 2L bottles. I rather they just give me a credit. I should have sent them back with the guy. But oh well. I have my diet soda that I drink. It’ll come in handy on these hot days.

I must have spent 15 minutes shopping at Walmart and walked out with $66 worth of clothes. It was all the shorts that I needed for the summer as I was wearing out the jean shorts I kept on wearing. I figure it will last me three years at least. That was the last time I went clothes shopping. I hate shopping for clothes. If something doesn’t catch my eye right away, I don’t get it. There were clothes I wanted to get but they didn’t have my size. I was disappointed.

After shopping at Walmart, I went to my therapy appointment. We talked about last night. I am glad that I didn’t email my psychiatrist at like 2 am. I know I would have received a phone call this morning if I did. I was not in good space. My ankle is starting to throb but it was nothing like last night. I still feel like I should be dead. I told my therapist I had every intention to cancel our appointments for next week but she wouldn’t have one word of it. I also told her I felt like texting her but I didn’t feel like it because I knew we would end up talking about it. She told me I could text her any time, day or night. That is good and all but it sucks when you don’t get a response back. I didn’t tell her this.

Our conversation was all over the place. Whenever there was a break, she brought us back to the suicidality. She wanted to know more about it. I really don’t remember much, though I still remember feeling suicidal. I think if I had a solid plan, I probably would have executed it today, regardless of the consequences. I woke up really groggy as I didn’t go to sleep till well after 0200. I did text my therapist around 0211 so I was still up at that time. I just said I was in a “dangerous mood”. I really didn’t want to get up but I couldn’t forfeit the Zipcar. It was well past the time I could cancel it so I forced myself up. I was so sleepy that I didn’t even get myself coffee before leaving Boston. I was half way to my therapist’s location when I realized I didn’t get coffee as I was getting sleepy on the road. I am so glad there is a Starbucks near her office that I always go to. I also got something to eat as I was getting hungry.

I should probably email my psychiatrist and let her know what happened last night and that I am still feeling suicidal. It was very difficult NOT to do something last night as I just was fed up with being in pain all the time, night after night after night. I wish it was close to 2000 so I could take my meds and go to bed. I am so fricken tired. I tried taking a nap before the groceries got here but some idiot from South Carolina called me and woke me up. It was a sign because it was close to when my delivery was scheduled to be delivered. So I never got my nap. I so could use a coffee but I don’t want to fuck up my sleep further.

There was hardly any traffic on the way home, thank goodness. I had enough time to make a run to my house to drop off my shopping bags and then return the car. I am glad I have a location near my house that is within walking distance. There is another location near me but it’s up a hill and I don’t do hills. If I could, I wouldn’t be disabled. My ankle already didn’t like the walk back home but I took my pain meds to quiet it down.

This is why I don’t understand why I got so suicidal last night. It’s not like I don’t have meds for my pain. I do and they work, though taking them before the pain is bad has always been a challenge. I could just take them and within minutes my pain can climb or it could be two hours after I take the meds and then my pain shoots up. There is no rhyme or reason to what brings me pain. The slightest movement seems to make it explode and for some reason, it hurts threefold when I lay down versus when I am sitting up. But I can’t sleep while sitting. It hurts my back and neck being in that position all the time. I have tried to use a pillow and sleep but I always turn over on my side and sleep, sometimes with the sitting pillow as a back support or it ends up on the floor.

I told my therapist about the anger that I was feeling last night when the pain happened to get out of control. I really wanted to punch a wall. I was so done. I have no idea what will happen tonight if my pain returns when I try and sleep. I know part of the reason is because I thought I took my pain meds but I didn’t. I usually take them either before my night meds or after but because I was watching the game last night, things kind of didn’t follow my routine. I also now realize that I was on my feet more because I washed dishes before going up to bed. That could have been why the pain was so intense last night. I did them because my mother would flip if I left them for her in the morning.

I feel really sad that I got so suicidal last night and didn’t act on my feelings even though they were really strong. I think if the voices were not controlled I probably wouldn’t have stayed safe. I don’t know what I would do as most of my medication is three feet from me and I don’t think my foot would have allowed the journey, no matter how suicidal I was. I knew things would be better in the morning (even though technically it was morning) but I couldn’t see it. I had to do something and ended up doing nothing. I feel like a failure.

SPSM and Prezi and being a suicide attempt survivor

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

SPSM and Prezi and being a suicide attempt survivor

For the first time in a long time, I felt I was useful to the #SPSMChat that goes on every Sunday at 10 pm EST on Twitter. I learned about Prezi, which I am not sure what it is yet. I thought it was a video thingy but I couldn’t figure it out and I am much to tired to try. I did make a couple of layouts but it crashed my Chrome and internet so I think I will stick with IE.

What I was talking about with Prezi was being a suicide attempt survivor. Twenty-five years ago today marks the actual day I got help, or tried to. It was a very confusing time and my mother had a hard time accepting me as being suicidal. She was worried about me, as is understandable. But I had my own world to contend to that she didn’t know about. I will write that in another blog, but for now, just know that I was living between two worlds, one that I created internally to cope with the external world.

It wasn’t easy the first few days after my attempt, if you want to call it that. My wrist hurt from cutting and then I found out that cutting really released emotion better than talking did. So I started having my cutting kit. I had to be very secretive but then, I sort of was as I was living in two worlds. I had two facades, the one that school saw and the one my home life saw. It wasn’t much different except at home I didn’t talk to anyone. I didn’t talk to my sisters and my father was not there after his violent outburst the day before. A week after all this suicide talk and me not getting any better, my sisters felt that he had to know. I had a large decorative knife outside my bedroom door. I swore he was going to tell me to kill myself by stabbing myself with it. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Instead, he told me to jump off the Tobin bridge. He was giving me permission to kill myself essentially. Nice guy, huh?

I was a straight A student at school. I also had perfect attendance until that night. I think I had to skip school one day to meet with a counselor so that ended my perfect attendance record for the year. It didn’t matter, I lost interest in school. Nothing mattered to me except for dying. I was 15 years old. The school nurse helped me a lot for the rest of my years in high school. I don’t think I would have graduated if it wasn’t for her. She gave me hope every time I saw her and I knew that I couldn’t let her down by being depressed. She wanted me better so I saw the school counselor instead of going to a private therapist. Unfortunately, when the school year ended, so did therapy. I was deeply depressed, more so than I already was. The nurse got me in touch with a social worker at the community school. I saw her for about ten months before she got married and left. I had a breakdown. I skipped school for a week and then in April of 1992, I tried to kill myself again. I threw up the pills and thus saved my life. I lost all hope that I ever was going to die. I felt like more of a failure than I ever was. That summer, I had my first hospitalization and thus started the cycle. I was hospitalized every three months because my suicidality reached its peak and I couldn’t cope with life anymore. The third time I went into the hospital, I came out as being gay. I had dissociated while cutting because I felt an attraction toward a woman on the T (public transportation). I thought I was going nuts until I met someone in the hospital who was also gay. I came out with my treatment team and felt a huge burden off my shoulders. It wasn’t until two decades later I would come out as being transgender.

My teenage years were filled with hospitalizations and cutting. It was a vicious cycle that continued into my twenties. After graduation from high school, I had my longest hospitalization because I overdosed again on the antidepressant I was taking at the time. I was determined to die and no one was going to stop me. Except, a Jewish doctor that felt I had some hope. She told me the only way out of the hospital was if I were to see her. The outside therapist I saw didn’t want to see me anymore. She couldn’t handle my suicidality. So I started seeing her but my suicidality increased. I was in and out of the hospital from August of 1994 to Jan 1995. I felt like no one could love me. Until I met a boy from Nebraska. He was gay and he loved me unconditionally. He didn’t care about my past. He wanted to help me. And he did. I felt that if I had him, I could heal. It took a while to trust him and I did. We had long conversations about school and life and being gay. We joined BAGLY and met others like ourselves. I still felt like an outsider because I really felt like I was a man. I was too scared to tell anyone this. So I was called a lesbian or gay woman instead. My self hatred rose to new levels. But I always held it in check.

Amazingly, I graduated a two year school for medical assisting. I was still cutting. I changed therapists, again. This time I was seeing a male therapist. It wasn’t too long before I fired him. I had obtained the medication to overdose again and when I told him, he asked if I was suicidal. It was the most stupidest question I was ever asked. Do people obtain large quantities of medication just for the hell of it? Granted I didn’t tell him I was suicidal, but getting asked point blank was kind of silly.

After this therapist, I really didn’t want to see anyone else again. It was really tough because either they left me or I fired them. Most of them couldn’t deal with my suicidality as an outpatient. They just thought the hospital was the way to go. By the time I was 25, I had about as many hospitalizations in ten years time. I just figured that was the way life was going to be. I was going to be in and out of hospitals for the rest of my life and I didn’t like that option.

It took years for suffering till I was an undergraduate at a university where I was taking psychology classes. My cutting had stopped, least for now. I had met my current therapist and she wanted to help me. I was taking a class for psychometrics testing. I researched stuff about suicide and couldn’t find a damn one that dealt with pain. There was an overview of assessments, twenty-five in all, and not a single one dealt with psychological pain. Then I came across the works of Dr. Edwin Shneidman. He lead me to David Jobes and the world of suicidology was open before me. I still felt like a hypocrite when I became a member in 2007 but I learned so much. My hospitalization started to decrease. I was using Jobes’ work in my therapy. I was also using Holden’s work as well. My pain finally had a name, psychache. And with it I could finally stop the bleeding. I couldn’t control the bleeding because I still bleed to this day, but it’s much less now that it’s acknowledge and talked about.

I still don’t have supportive parents. My sisters try to be supportive around my transgender issues but I can tell they would just like me to be my birth name and gender. They don’t know how much my suicidality surrounds me not being in the correct body. I hope in time they will.