Source: Mental health recovery a new support group to talk about treatment options and resources
Category: suicide attempt
Moods Have Changed
Moods have changed
I had a crappy sleep. I woke up like every two hours. I had to change position because I was in pain. It totally sucked. Around 0830, I thought I would shower but my mother was in the bathroom. So I decided to wait. Then I had to go and it wasn’t pleasant. I was still in pain every time I had a number 2. Seems like today is shit day because that is all I have been doing since 0900. I wanted to go out but that is not possible. I went to Walgreens okay but that is a short walk. I have two extremes, loose soft/diarrhea stools or hard as rocks stools. Even with the senna, I don’t have a medium. Only time I have one is when I have regular movements which seem far and in between. I am so damn miserable.
I had therapy today and we talked about all that has happened since we last talked. We talked about the insults my father gave me, the drinking, and, inevitably, my suicidality. I have picked a date and I am moving towards a plan. Fuck this pain shit. Fuck my father. I can’t stand either, one more than the other, you choose which. I don’t care anymore. She wanted me to come out to see her but I don’t have the funds to. I don’t get paid till my birthday. I will be dead by then, I hope.
We talked about my writing. She asked what will become of it once I am gone. I told her it will just stay on my laptop. No one will do anything with it. Right now, my “book” is barely fifty pages. No one knows the files. I am not that organized. And besides, some of the stuff is on my blog anyways so anyone could make a book out of it. I just don’t care anymore.
My therapist asked me what would be the one thing that wouldn’t make me so suicidal. I didn’t have an answer for her. She then asked what my reasons for living were. I told her none. I hate when she goes through these things. It always makes me feel a little guilty. And that is all that she was trying to do, was lay a guilt trip on me so I would continue to be. Why would I want to live when every time I have a damn bowel movement, I have pain as well, sometimes for hours? She brought up getting an MRI but I am too scared to know the results. I know there have been changes in my back. I can feel it. Whether or not it requires surgery, that is a different matter. And I am copping out before I know the truth. I see my PCP next week and we have a lot to discuss. I doubt MRI is going to be on the agenda. It’s going to be our last meeting as he is leaving. My thigh pain seemed to have settled down, which has settled down my PTSD symptoms. But I am tired of being in pain or wondering when I am going to get hit with CES x 3. I can’t go on like this. I feel like I am on a shaky rope and someone has finally cut the other end of it. I am dangling at the edge and no one sees it or can help me get up. So I am giving up. I will fall to my death.
Mensch
Mensch
My therapist and I were talking about my suicidality and she called me a mensch. At first, I thought she said wench and I was like wow, she is calling me a bad name for the first time. But when I asked her to repeat it, she said Mensch, with an “m”. She looked it up in her dictionary to find the meaning. I laughed because she had the book not an electronic one on her phone like most people now a days. I sometimes forget they still exist. Anyways, the word mensch means “person of integrity and honor”. I had to look up the spelling of the word (as I had no clue how to spell Jewish words. She said it was a Jewish word.) Leave it to her to call me that when I feel like crap. It does fit me, though I would always be expected to be called something other than that, given how I feel.
Time went slower today in session than it did yesterday. We were talking about how my father always gives me a hard time and just expects me to jump when he calls. He called today and wanted me to go over to his house for his meds as he was out. I couldn’t go because my ankle was a bitch. It was raining anyways, which didn’t help my pain levels at all. I asked my sister to go as she works down the street from him. I told her what he needed for tonight and I would fill the rest tomorrow. She texted back that he was running low on one of his meds. Great. I would either have to call the pharmacy or the doctor’s office tomorrow. I won’t know until I get there. He didn’t care that I was in pain. How typical. All this guy cares about is himself and his needs. Makes me sick.
So my therapist talked about this for a while. We also talked about me not wanting to be around for my birthday that is coming up in a couple weeks. She told me it is unlikely that I will be talking to her that day. Her daughter has a half day of school and she needs to be out of the office to pick her up. She has a short week that week so I don’t know if we can schedule another time. Not that it really matters. I really don’t want anyone making a fuss about it. My family included. They are planning this big party but they aren’t sure where they are going to have it. I don’t even know when or where it is going to be. I told them I would rather just have it with just my immediate family members (my nieces, nephew, mother, father, and sisters) than have it with extended family. But my sisters are not hearing me. It’s making me upset. I rather they do it at my youngest sister’s place when her kitchen is all finished. I’ll still be the same number so what is the big deal? And with me just not wanting to be here anyway, it’s just increasing my suicidality.
I finished off the SSD paperwork and will be mailing it in tomorrow. I wasn’t leaving the house today unless it was burning down. I just hurt too much. My therapist was happy with what I wrote. I just hope that the SSD people see that I am still disabled. I might not have been in the hospital for a year now, but that is the only improvement. I might have to be if this birthday thing gets worse. I was also telling my therapist that I don’t want to be here because of the increase in pain and would try something after I say goodbye to my PCP for the last time. He is leaving the practice and I will be seeing someone I don’t know. I just can’t deal with change and stress. My therapist pointed out that she is not going anywhere and that I can’t leave my pdoc hanging while she is recovering from surgery. Usually her saying these things makes me re-think things about my death but not this time. I think I am in deep constriction and I want a way out. Come to think of it, talking to her the same day as the day I see my PCP will be the last time I talk to her, too. Only thing is, I don’t really have a plan. Going to have to think of one between now and then.
After our session, I took some pain meds as my ankle was really hurting. I was waiting for the session to end to take them because I didn’t want to be loopy Lou while talking to her. I’m still feeling loopy Lou because I haven’t been able to sleep off the meds. I just can’t seem to fall asleep when I lie down. If I am sitting up, I am dozing off but soon as I lie down, forget it, I am awake. I have gotten so used to my pain waking me up and startling me that I think lying down just gives me flashbacks and I am unable to relax enough to sleep. That is why it takes me so damn long to actually fall asleep sometimes. Last night despite me telling Twitter world that I was passing out, it took me at least an hour to actually do so. It really sucks having PTSD.
Quote of the Day 29 Nov 2015
Suicide in theory should never come as a total surprise if one knew enough about the intimate inner life over the entire course of the individual’s psychological history.–Edwin Shneidman, Definition of Suicide
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