Category: suicidality

So I left tonight’s chat…

by Midnight Demon, posted in bipolar, blogging, cauda equina syndrome, chronic physical pain, psychache, suicidality

So I left tonight’s chat

Don’t know if anyone that reads my blog knew, but a 29 year old woman with terminal cancer ended her life today, on her own terms. She basically committed suicide. It got me thinking about Robin Williams and why his death was not treated the same way. He was battling demons we knew nothing about and a medical illness that threw him off the ledge. I don’t blame him for killing himself. It makes me sad, but also makes me happy that he is in a better place than he was in. No one understands why I have such happiness for those who kill themselves. But for this woman, I am having a hard time feeling happiness for her. I am glad she chose the method of her death and she had free will and all. But a part of me doesn’t like that she was an advocate for choosing to end your life with dignity and she took it. So we lost an advocate and that bothers me.

Then I entered the SPSM chat that was discussing this. The current president of the AAS sends out a PDF of Shneidman’s 10 commonalities of a good death. That’s when my suicidality peaked for some reason. Then talking about how depression was a terminal illness just made me snap. I had to get out of the chat room. I could have just left without saying anything but I said something, that today’s topic is too triggering for me. I got some pleasant responses. Then I got a weird one that said that I should be kept abreast of the topic. I was like “Huh”?

I have no one I can talk to about this and so I just decided to write, like I always do when I am in distress or feeling intolerant of my feelings. It helps me to put perspective to my thoughts. I also have been terrified of crapping myself for the past few hours and it has taken it’s toll on me. I have decided that if I crap myself tonight, I am going to take all of my meds, every last pill that I have will be ingested. I have had enough of dealing with the indignity of crapping myself. I can’t live like this anymore. I am only 38 years old. I should be able to control myself but that control has been taken away from me. I am no longer an “anal” person, so to speak. It is draining me being this way. I could cry but why bother. Darkness envelops my soul. I feel like I should not live like this anymore. Isn’t it my right to die? I may not have “good” reasons. I just want to end my suffering, is that so bad? I have no purpose in my life. I have no responsibilities like I did before. The only responsibility I have is to clean my sheets or clean my room, which never gets done because I don’t have the motivation to clean. My mother takes care of the cooking and cleaning, though it kills her to do it. She cleaned the bathroom and it took her almost three days to do it. She did it a little at a time. And I have to do the same or my back goes out. But lately my ankle pain has been worse so I have been having a hard time standing for any length of time. I was given exercises to do to help do something but all they do is cause me pain. I stopped doing them because I hurt so much afterwards. I shouldn’t be in this much physical pain. I have tendonitis in all of my tendons on the outside part of my ankle starting from where the bone is to my feet. There is a tendon called the peroneous that wraps around the ankle and anchors into the foot. Aren’t I lucky that I have aggravated this tendon and the ones surrounding it. The docs don’t know why. But the usual course when they don’t know what to do with you is to send you to physical therapy, like that is the cure all. I am so sick of physical therapy and it hates me. My goofball swelling has returned and it is throbbing like no tomorrow. Yet despite this pain, I am not suicidal over it. I am more suicidal over the fact my bowels have taken a run for the hills and decided not to tell me when they are moving. Usually if I have gas, I know I will soon have a movement. But lately, the stools have been soft and when I fart, the stool comes with them. I have shit myself twice in the last two weeks, both times in bed. The first I was lucky that it didn’t leak onto my bed sheets as I was in bed at the laptop like I am now. The second time, I didn’t even feel myself shit. I just farted and thought that was that. Wrong. I got up and there was a yellow stain on my bed. Fuck. I was wearing black underwear so it didn’t show anything but my pajamas did. I feel like the biggest asshole on the planet. And if it happens again, I want to kill myself. I have stayed away from taking laxatives and fiber pills. Now I will have hard stools that will cause me to bleed but I don’t care. It might also flare up my nerve pain in my ass but I don’t care. That will be the least of my worries. I don’t want to shit the bed again, literally or have another accident. I am lucky I have my menses now so I am wearing a pad. But pads irritate my skin after a while. When I had my menses that lasted for more than six weeks, I thought I was going to go insane. And I was wicked irritated by my clothing (female underwear) and the pads. The elastic in the female underwear was digging into me after a while. I don’t know why. But even my boxer will irritate me after a while too, especially if I don’t shower on a regular basis. And I have been too depressed to keep up with hygiene. I just am a mess. But with my menses, I have been forced to shower nearly every day. But now they are showing signs of stopping so I might be back to my every two days routine.

I have been safe so far tonight with passing gas and not having friends with it but that could change at any moment. It scares me to think that I might shit myself again and not realize it. I bought diapers for when I go out. I refuse to wear them when I am in the house for fear of just wasting them. Thing is, I don’t trust myself anymore and that has been a hard thing to endure. I have gotten used to peeing myself more than crapping myself. No one understands this. No one really knows this, aside from my therapist. I haven’t seen my psychiatrist in more than a month because of my own mobility issues and now she is out of the office because she broke her hip. I miss her really bad. I also feel bad going through what she is going through. She said she needed surgery so that must have been a real bad break. We have been together for twenty years and this is the first time, other than her maternity leave, that we have been apart for an extended period of time. So I this weighing on me as well. I am set with my medications for at least a month. I hope she is back soon but I know that it takes at least 6-8 weeks for a bone to heal. She didn’t say how long she would be out for but my guess is that she will be back after the holidays. This so sucks. My demons are coming back and I don’t have her around to corral them back into outer space. My therapist can only do so much. And lately, we have been on the wrong page of things. I am getting frustrated with the whole talking on the phone all the time. She is ok with it, course she would love to see me in person but I don’t have transportation to go out to where her office is, which is 30 miles away. I am still trying to finagle getting my sister’s car one week and going out to see her but my sister has been so stressed lately that I don’t want to bother her with my needing her car.

Closing thoughts: I feel a little bit better since writing this out. I love having a blog that I can write my nonsensical thoughts out. I still feel ashamed about myself but I know it will go away in time. I hope it will anyways.

How Country Music Touches You

by Midnight Demon, posted in cauda equina syndrome, chronic physical pain, depression, suicidality, suicide

How Country Music Touches You

I have been listening to Pandora for most of the day. I have it on “Terri Clark” radio and I have been listening to all the “old” country that made me fall in love with country, not the rock/rap stuff they have today. A couple of songs in the morning really got to me. By the time my therapy appointment came around, I was very tearful. The songs they were playing was about relationships ending and I couldn’t feel like I was losing my therapist because of the current transportation issue. I was going to see my therapist today but my father interceded. Asshole had an urgent matter that had to be dealt with on his NOW terms. So my sister needed the car to take him where he needed to go. I was pissed that he didn’t call me, because what the hell do I take him to his medical appointments for?? He just is an ungrateful bastard.

So what would have been the last time I see my therapist turned into no trip out there after all. And the songs they were playing just had me thinking that maybe our relationship is over now. But then Faith Hill’s song, “You can’t lose me” came on. I cried harder and when I told my therapist, she said that is our song now. I was already bawling so cried some more. I swear I bawled the first 20 minutes or so of our session. I was just so weepy. I have been up since 0430 so already it has been a long day. I had coffee which gave me the ups but by 11, I calmed down and was just down. Then the songs played and I was weepy. And of course my therapist had to ask how I was doing. Doing awful. I told her the thoughts of suicide came into my head today, just out of the blue, like what if I killed myself. But the thoughts didn’t hang around. My mood just wasn’t “depressed enough”, I guess.

I don’t know what I am going to do about therapy. My therapist doesn’t know that I secretly want another therapist. I just don’t think she is good for me anymore and now that we are not going to be seeing each other face to face for a long time, I can’t help but wonder if the phone is really going to work. I so wanted to be in the same room with her just so she could possibly hold me while I was crying. Realizing that, just made me cry more. I have stuffed animals at her office, a 3 ft bear (Johnny) and two smaller bears (Bucky and Amelia). I miss seeing them, and obviously, my therapist. But finding a therapist, as I learned, is so difficult when you are chronically suicidal. It shouldn’t be like that, but sadly it is. I had called 10 therapists when she first moved to Framingham (the town she practices out of). I couldn’t find one to take me on. Then when I was in the hospital, they found me a center that I could go to. Well, the nitwit was downright scared of me. He was just so nervous. It didn’t work out and by session three, I said goodbye.

I am so drained. I could write about how it sucks not finding a therapist to expand their horizons and just take a chance but I am not in the damn mood. I am tired of trying to find someone that I can count on in the mental health field. Yet there is a therapist that piques my curiosity. Only trouble is, I love his tweets and if I become his patient, I lose him as my twitter buddy. His policy. And I like our relationship as it is right now, though he doesn’t know me from Adam. It’s just that I like his personality. And after reading his blogs, I think that he would be a good fit for me. But I don’t think I can ever cross that boundary. Besides, I am so terrified that he will find an excuse not to see me it prevents me from pursuing the matter. And all the while I was thinking this, I felt like I was cheating on my therapist.

I am at the stage where right now, I really can’t leave my therapist. We are in the middle of important work with dealing with my ex and all she put me through. We didn’t talk about it today. I was too emotional to get into it and she respected my space. Plus, I felt like I was crying over the grief of that relationship, which I never did before. I usually just drank her away, or tried to.

When I was in the kitchen, eating a brownie, I noticed my ankle and foot were swollen again. Pissed me off. My toes looked like Vienna sausages. So I just kept them up. Now they are hurting me. I hate being in pain every single day. Today I looked at a couple of doctors that specialized in the ankle. I couldn’t find a one that wasn’t a surgeon. And a surgeon just won’t deal with you if they can’t cut you. So I am back to square one. I am so frustrated having to find a therapist that is within a 5 mile radius of my house and a foot/ankle doctor that is the same. Why is it so hard when I live in the academic capital of the world??

I just don’t know anymore

by Midnight Demon, posted in cauda equina syndrome, chronic physical pain, depression, physical pain, suicidality

I just don’t know anymore

I have been in pain for more than 24 hrs now so if this is a little squirrely, that is why. I just cannot take the pain anymore. It is driving me absolutely insane. I spent the last hour or so writing in my journal things that shouldn’t be mentioned in the blog (stuff my therapist wanted me to write). I felt so ashamed afterwards. I was stuck with images in my head of the events that happened to me. I just want to be dead again. I know it has been at least a month since I last felt this way. Certainly was around the time of Robin Williams’s death. I felt like it was my turn. Well, dammit, why the hell not? I am so sick of being in pain.

I have tried to control my pain but my meds seem to be ineffective. I think I might have to take the stronger meds to break the cycle. But I don’t want to because the last time I took that drug, Jekyll appeared. I am wicked tired and all I want to do is sleep and I know that if I take this drug, chances are that Jekyll will come out. And god only knows what he will write. I find it odd that I have two “alters” and they are both male.

I didn’t take a shower today. I got a migraine and then things kind of went downhill after that. My pain worsened to what it is now. It is throbbing like a SOB and stabbing at the same time. It hurts right at the joint where my foot and ankle bone meet. That area is the most painful right now. I just want relief. I have contemplated taking the handful of pain pills that I have left. It will really suck if I take them because then I will have NOTHING. I know I am going to run out of my meds before the 28th of this month. My doc is supposed to write a 28 day supply but he wrote it for 30 days. Big help, not! I don’t know why I told him I needed less pills. But then, things were going well and I wasn’t in pain as much. The past few months have been awful and I keep meaning to tell him I need more pills because it just isn’t enough but I keep forgetting. Plus I am scared that he will say no. I doubt it, but you never know. I bet if my pain were under control, my blood pressure would be too.

I keep fighting sleep. I know that if I go to bed now, chances are good that I will wake up around midnight or 1 or 2 in the morning. I took my meds so I don’t have to get up again but I might have to go to the bathroom. I drank a lot of water at dinner because I am dehydrated. I didn’t eat too much, just had breaded cauliflower for dinner. I wasn’t that hungry. Which is good because I feel bloated.

My mother just struggled to get up the stairs. Her life would be so much better if she would take something consistently for her pain. But nope. Won’t even take a damn aspirin. Pisses me off because she always complains she is in pain. I refuse to give her sympathy because I know there are meds out there she can take but she won’t so there.

I have the ceiling fan on despite it being cool outside. I have been having hot flashes for most of the day. It is only about 70 degrees in my room so I don’t know why I have to put the fan on but I am hot and I hate being hot. I think it is because of the damn pain I am in. 24 hours. I didn’t even do too much yesterday so I don’t know why I am in so much damn pain. But I guess walking is my downfall. And my sister thinks I will be able to walk a dog. Please. I can barely get to where I need to go without hurting myself and you want me to take care of an animal?? NO. Not happening. Get a cat. I will clean the litter box twice a day. That I can do!

I don’t know why I am in so much damn pain. It’s not like I did anything today. I didn’t go up and down the stairs too much, but maybe I did. I never know what is minimal and what is a lot. My body doesn’t bother to tell me until it has surpassed its limit and then tells me the next day or later that night when I want to fucking sleep. It is terrible. Normal ankle movement should not bring you such pain!!!

The only thing keeping me sane right now is listening to music. I need that muse in my head because without it, I think I might do something drastic.

Mockingbird won’t sing

by Midnight Demon, posted in bipolar, blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders, suicidality, writing

Mockingbird won’t sing

I spoke to my therapist about my pw protected blog. It is about my coming out as a transgender. She liked it and recommended that I send it to my psychiatrist. I have no intention of doing so because I just think it will be a waste of my pdoc’s time. I know she enjoys my writing but sending her something she already knows seems redundant to me. We had already discussed this (TG issues) when I saw her last. I took down the blog but have it saved in my trash bin, should I decide to send it out again.

After my session, I was a little hyper. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I did some journaling and that seemed to calm me down some. I think I drank too much coffee. LOL It is weird that on days that I don’t have coffee I can function fairly well but am not as productive and on days that I do have coffee, I am more productive and can think a little more clearly.

I just had my lunch, a bowl of cereal. I really wanted a bacon sandwich but I am trying to lower my salt intake. Plus it was cinnamon toast crunch and I know cinnamon has some health value.

I seemed to have done something to my right hip between changing my sheets on Sunday and walking yesterday. I took a trip to the basement to freeze some bread as our freezer was full and by the time I got there, my hip and sciatica was acting up. I was having pains in the buttock going down my leg. Soon as I rested it went away. I want to do another walk tomorrow, the same distance I did yesterday. I need to try and do more exercise but I also don’t want to hurt myself in the process. I am going to try stretching those muscles to see if that eases the pain. It might just need a gentle stretch as I am out of shape. I haven’t walked long distances in over two years. I wish there was a Starbucks I could walk to but there isn’t. There is no way I can walk to my Starbucks place in the square. That will be my goal one day but not off the bat. It still depresses me that I can’t walk far without pain. I used to be able to walk anywhere I wanted to. Now I am so limited that even a walk more than a few blocks hurts me. But if I don’t test my limits and move past them, I am never going to know what I can and can’t do. I want to be more mobile but not to be in pain all the time. I am NOT willing for that to be the price I pay for increased mobility. And I know it will take time. Maybe walking halfway and back is what I need to do until I can do the 1.2 miles again.

I have titled this “Mockingbird won’t sing” because it was the song that I was listening to when I started my blog. It is a song by Rob Thomas. It reminded me of the time when my therapist and I were not on the same page. No matter what we tried, we just were batting heads. I wasn’t making much progress in what was being said. I felt like I was at a stand still and was doubting whether I should stay with my therapist. That was when we decided on consultation, and even then we had different opinions on what kind of consult we needed. She wanted me to see a DID (dissociative Identity Disorder) specialist and I wanted to see a suicidologist. We ended up seeing both, though not at the same time.

I got nothing but bullshit from the DID specialist. She denied my hallucinations, called them “parts of self”. If they were parts of me, why did they respond so well to medication?? I felt like I was back in the old ward of the Trauma unit of the hospital I was just discharged, where they wanted me to name my feelings and “talk with them”. This person had some pretty eclectic ideas about how trauma works. But I guess she got the idea from Europe and brought it over to the States, where it didn’t catch on. And the reason for that is because DBT (Dialectical Behavior Therapy) takes precedence. My therapist did like her style and I hated it. I still think it is a crock, though, I will admit, there are some merits to what she was saying. I don’t remember them now but I remember the specialist’s papers were interesting.

The suicidologist was more my type. He was analytical, complete with a couch in his office. We had a few sessions but I found that transference (my feelings toward him) was getting in the way of our therapy so I stopped going. He is still available to me should I need him again. Unfortunately, he doesn’t accept my insurance so it will be a hefty bill, if I do see him again.