Category Archives: suicidality

One More Light

One More Light

****expressions of suicide in this blog are just that. I am blowing off steam, expressing myself because keeping it in hurts too much****

This song by Linkin Park recently won an award for something I cannot remember. I saw it a couple of days ago. I am not surprised as when I first heard it, I knew it would be the perfect song for suicide prevention. Yet somehow, with my upcoming demise, I cannot help but think of this song.

I was talking to a friend of mine who I told a few months ago that I had made the decision to end my life in a few months. I told her yesterday when I would do it. She asked if everything had been planned like we talked about. I realized I didn’t have all my ducks in a row. Hell, I still haven’t written my letters. I am finding it hard to say goodbye to those I love dearly. People always think that suicide is an impulsive act. That is kind of horseshit to those that suffer from it chronically. There is usually a lot of planning involved. Even Chester had a smile on his face and looked happy in the days before he ended his life. I nor anyone else will know what was going through his mind that lead him to this decision.

Pain o’clock started a little while ago. I am so fricken tired of hurting. I know that no medicine or treatment will bring me pain free. Even if I go through the pain program and their tasks, I will still have pain. I will just manage it better, which I guess it is better than what I am doing now. Even though I am on better pain meds to manage my pain, I am still having flares. I really think that if I was on a higher dose of meds, just 15 milligrams, I wouldn’t have so many flares per week. But according to my psychiatrist, they (pain docs) won’t do that. I have had enough. She saw me yesterday because she was worried about me after I sent her a few emails about how bad the pain was and how my suicidality was increased. I am tired of fighting the supposed experts. It is shit when they don’t fucking listen to the patient. Like what was the point of me seeing her if she wasn’t going to do anything? I am done, so fucking done.

I am sorry to my friend and family about ending my life in the next few weeks. I tried really hard to manage my pain better but they fucked me over. My light needs to be extinguished. I can’t go on like this anymore. I don’t have a fucking life. I can’t even fucking read a book for fun anymore or go to Starbucks to write in my journal about mundane things without pain. It is only going to therapy or medical appointments these days. Often I leave an hour or two early so I do have time to cope with travel and write because as you can see, there are more than a few days between entries. Even my night journal doesn’t have that many entries. I should be on my new journal by now as I am so close to the last few pages but I am not because I don’t fucking care. I plan my death. I rather do that. That gives me hope that I can escape from this hell.

I am so very sorry for hurting any and everyone involved in my life. I know there are many people that will be hurt that that I am gone. If I could put a band-aid on your hearts I would. I don’t blame anyone. This isn’t anyone’s fault. I have postponed this long enough. I was supposed to die in June and here it is July. I wish I had the time to analyze this song. It is such a beautiful song with so many meanings.

Bad flare ruined my day

I had another bad pain night. I had to leave the house early 1) to avoid the high heat and 2) to get my scripts. When my med alarm went off, I wanted to throw my phone. I honestly didn’t want to get up. I used the bathroom after taking my meds and brushed my teeth. I didn’t feel like shaving my head so went to the kitchen. I asked my mother if she needed anything mailed or bought while I was out. She said no.

I got dressed and then went back to the kitchen to grab my cup. Soon as I got to the stairs, my mother called me back asking me to mail something. Really?? By the time I got my bag squared and my sneakers on, I missed the fricken bus. It had pulled up when I was about 20 feet away. I wasn’t going to run. I knew another one was coming and it did.

I listened to my music. I got to Starbucks and ordered my espresso and a sandwich. I then wanted something sweet so got a cookie. Wrote in my journal for a bit and then went into town. The trains were running okay. I got my scripts and I checked it before leaving. I also got some water as I was really thirsty. The heat had climbed up.

I decided to get my tickets to see my friend south of Boston. So I went further into Boston. The machine I usually get my tickets wasn’t accepting cash so had to go to the desk. There wasn’t a line. I showed my disability pass and got the tickets. I had to show my pass in order to get the half fare.

Went back to the trains and was about to get on an elevator when an older woman stopped me. She wanted to know where the train to New York was. I told her not here and told her where to go. I don’t think she understood. The place is confusing with all the different turnstiles and entrances/exits. I got on the elevator and went on my way. By the time I got back to the Square, I didn’t have to wait long for the bus. I went to the pharmacy and filled my meds.

I got home and it was really hot in the house. I was hungry but too hot to eat anything right then. I went to my room to cool off. When I felt better, I went to the kitchen and finished off the Mexican food from yesterday. It was so good.

Went back to my room. I stayed on my bed trying to decide what to do. I was wicked tired and wanted a nap. I played with my phone and relaxed on my bed. Holy fucking hell. Next minute my ankle just explodes. I am crying with severe pain. I didn’t even move my foot/ankle!! That was the weird part!! I was half lying down so had to remain still before attempting to move. Pain wasn’t resolving so I risked moving to take a breakthrough med. I was paralyzed in pain. I really wanted to nap but had no idea how I was going to move my body to my right side to sleep. I moved my leg and turned my body without more pain. Then my mother called asking me if I wanted raviolis for dinner. Fucking A. Seriously?? My phone was blowing up but I didn’t check it. It was either the T or Twitter and I needed a nap. Thankfully I slept for about an hour and a half when my mother called again. I didn’t answer it. I couldn’t move. I was in pain all over. Just breathing hurt.

The pain continued and still hasn’t let up. It is around a 10. Tomorrow will have to be shit day as I haven’t shit in a few days. I’ll be taking laxatives and fiber pills until I go. Just hope it doesn’t cause colon blow. Hope I can sleep tonight. Sox won their 8th game in a row. It was a good distraction until I stood up to turn the radio off. Now I’m in hell.

Foot is driving me nutso!!

I’ve been trying to sleep since 2100. My mother wasn’t up in her room yet. I called to see if she was ok as with the AC on, I can’t hear things. She was okay. Her sugars had stabilized.

I got a blog that I read and wished I didn’t. It was about the lesbian protests or something like that in London during the Pride parade. What gets me is that anytime transgender is mentioned, it is almost always having to do with transwomen. I know I cannot be the only transman in the world. I know one came out in the Navy. I know there is another fellow in Oregon. We talk occasionally. We can’t be the only ones out there. So why isn’t it out there?? I just feel alone and invisible.

Then I started talking about suicide and someone tried guilt tripping me. I call it what it is and they say it is on me. Really? I will be fucking dead. How will I know what will happen to my family?? Am I supposed to be a ghost or something? Pissed me off.

My foot felt like it was in a pressure cooker. Then it felt like it was being crushed. Now my big toe is hurting big time. I call uncle, except I don’t think it works. I found my very last breakthrough med. Tomorrow I got to call and have them change the order and make sure the count is so I can take more than 1 a day. Otherwise the pharmacy won’t fill it and I’ll chop my fucking ankle off.

I will need a shower tomorrow. I hate showering. I need to shave my head to keep it bald. Also need to do a touch up of shaving because I missed some spots. My foot isn’t going to be happy. Then I got PT. Oh joy. Yes the curative physical therapy to increase mobility. This is interesting as I haven’t moved my damned ankle in 17 fucking years. It is a fucking joke. Oh and the damn pain clinic refuses to use CRPS. I have left ankle/foot pain. Can I bring a bat to my next appt and clobber them over the head?? Not to kill them, just to knock some sense in them or make them read my damn medical record that says why I need prescription pain medication. Fucking assholes.

I am done trying to say to them what I need. I have a better chance of winning the lottery. My foot is screaming. It is too late for gaba. I need to be up early enough to call the assholes and hope it doesn’t take a week to change the order. I can’t believe I was stupid and didn’t read it before I left. Ugh. Live and learn I guess.

Maybe 300 mg of gaba to calm some of it down. My PT is going to be unhappy with me. I’ve only done home exercises about 3 times. I couldn’t do it the 1st two days after our last session because my thigh hurt too much. Thursday I did it. Friday I was off to asshole’s office. Saturday I slept all day. Today I was in a fuck it mood.ok so what is that just one time? Oops I can’t count. We’ll just say 3 times. I probably am not going to see her anymore anyway. I really don’t want to. I think it is pointless to see her for my ankle/foot. I saw her before and I was in too much pain. And without breakthrough meds, forget it. I am tired of working through the pain.

I have no life. Just doc appts. I can’t remember a day I went to the Square just for fun, to have my espresso and write. Hasn’t happened in so long. Maybe February when I was trying to write the story in my head. It is gone now. Why bother writing it when I am going to die soon?

Part of me is trying to hang around. But with every painful flare, it gets less and less. Just do it runs through my head. Someday soon. I hope. Just do it…

When they say you aren’t alone but you really are…

Past few months I’ve planned my ending. Now the time has come and it all comes down to me as to whether I go through with it. Sure, I unexpectedly got my pain meds that I waited 9 months for. But I am still in pain. Meds aren’t touching flares or making them bearable.

My lower body hurts. Legs feel like cement some days and because my legs are usually bent on the bed, they don’t want to stretch when I stand. And it hurts so much trying to walk just to go downstairs to use the bathroom. Sometimes walking helps but I got to walk hunched over because being fully erect is too much pain. It just isn’t comfortable.

Foot is going berserk. So fucking tired of being on pain. Half my foot from third toe down my ankle joint outward is being ripped apart or cut open. It wants to be separated. I hate this feeling and nothing helps me. I am so fucking annoyed!! Flares have a mind of their own. This one started with my pinkie and got worse from there. Midnight has struck. I want to fucking sleep. Chloral hydrate?

I feel like I should email my dark thoughts to my psychiatrist to let her know what is going on. I don’t know if she will respond, if she will tell me to go to the hospital (not an option and I will fight it), or she will want to see me ASAP. My therapist is on vacation. He doesn’t have a clue.

See, here is the thing. I’ve been chronically suicidal for years. I spent the last few months of 1994 in the hospital. I had one attempt in the beginning of November and I didn’t get out until mid January. Basically, I had to cover up my feelings to get out. I was close to being committed to a state hospital at the age of 19. I didn’t care because my depression made me feel so worthless that nothing was going to keep me here. But eventually by stuffing the darkness, I was let out to go to college. I earned my degree, found a stable job that I didn’t go to school for. And then tried to back to earn my bachelor’s degree only to suffer a psychotic episode that I never recovered from until months later on the right meds.

All that time, my suicidality fluctuated. I had a serious depressive episode in 2005. Things sort of got better in 2006. Two years later was the psychotic episode and I had to quit college. 4 years later I had a condition known as complex regional pain syndrome and that threw me on the disability table. Now I feel my life is over and I have a plan on ending it soon. I planned it back in March. I really was going to end it June 30th. But things happen and I push it back. Then pushed it back again. Now I am on the cusp and I don’t know what to do.

People always say you aren’t alone, but the truth is, when you are an attempt survivor, you are. You know what to say to get in and out of hospitals and what to say to avoid them. But the thoughts remain. They still circle your brain. And when you are in severe pain, you want to end it now. But patience is needed. I can’t end it on my bed for a family member to find me. I have a location in mind. I am scared of myself and omg what if I do die. If I succeed. Failure has happened and prevented me from attempting again. Now I am wanting to try again. I have no idea if I will succeed.

No one wants to hear me out. Soon as I say I want to end my life, people panic. They get angry. They tell you stuff that makes you feel guilty. And then you think why bother. Just go on suffering for THEM. So they don’t feel the pain you go through every single day. I’ve been doing this for years. My previous therapist prevented so many dates that could have been attempts. Sometimes I was hospitalized. Sometimes I just had more contact with her and or my psychiatrist.

I wish I could say I gave a fuck. But I am tired of hurting so damn much in the midnight hours of hell. When the midnight demons come out in me. I am a dark person. I pretend to be happy, to get along with everyone. That is what is expected of me. It hurts me to see others hurt. I’ve always been an emotionally sensitive person.

I have no idea if what the hell I am writing makes sense. I had to get the thoughts out of my head. It is going to be a flip of the coin the day of my doom. Imagine that. A coin having the power to live or die. I am pathetic.

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.