I got to a unit that has internet access. It is difficult writing on my tablet, but not impossible. I feel really paranoid with being here. No med changes have been made yet, though I think they are increasing my meds tonight. I feel safe but I don’t it’s hard to explain. I have a semi ok doc. and it remains to be seen about my case worker.
I will be typing up a longer post when I get out. But for those that follow regularly, I wanted to write a little something.
Feeling like I can’t sleep and hearing noises in my room. I know its just papers being rustled by the ceiling fan. I don’t know why I am still awake. I should have passef out hours ago. I just have this emptiness that won’t go away and gets worse when I lie down. Plus being in pain isn’t helping. I just took my 3rd pill of the night plus an extra ativan. I should be happy my baseball team won tonight but all I feel is darkness. I feel like the character in the tell tale heart from Edgar Allan Poe. There is this pounding in my chest and I fear it will wake up the household. But it is only me that hears it. Maybe it is guilt that I have not done anything to end my life. I just want to die. I can’t stop thinking about it. Today I had a new idea but am afraid of the consequences of being found by my nieces so it stops me.
I asked my therapist for another session today. I don’t know if it will be feasible. If not I asked for a check in. I really feel suicidal but I don’t want to talk about it. I never do. I can write about it, no problem. But to speak the words some how changes me because I realize either I am rational or irrational. Things make sense when I am suicidal. It makes me feel better knowing I have the one outlet no one can take away from me. But slowly, people have. They make me think of the survivors. As much as I am in pain, I don’t want to be the cause the pain of others. I don’t want to live yet there are voices that want me to die. I don’t like these voices and meds can’t get rid of them. They are the beatings of the tell tale heart. These are the true feelings I have. That is why my chest is so heavy. It is carrying the mother load of bad voices that are right. All I have to do is listen to them and know they are guiding me to freedom. But why can’t I follow them. The safety voices prevent this from happening. It is a struggle every night. I just want the psychache to stop. And the only way for it to stop is by killing myself.
I finally found the book I was looking for. I read some of the introduction, which clearly states the book is “for clinicians by clinicians”, then read the part about the Aeschi working group guidelines. If everyone is working toward stopping suicide, why can’t someone who is suicidal be a representative of the group? Who would really know what it is like to be suicidal better than someone who is ACTUALLY thinking about ending their life? The whole concept of the Aeschi is to bring clinicians to a patient orient model rather than a physician/clinician knows best model. I have read this book repeated and this is the first time that I got angry at it. I used to marvel at the insights these clinicians have. But now I am second guessing that they don’t know anything. Maybe it just is that I am in a pissy mood and feel like no one cares, that I have cried wolf too many times and that my despair just isn’t important anymore. I don’t know. I do believe that the attitudes need to be for the patient rather than the comfort of the clinician. That part I do believe in.
I was going through the book and I forgot that when I was at the last conference, I had the book chapter authors sign it. I got the John Hancock of my favorites. I kind of laugh because they don’t know that I am crazy and who would ask for an autograph at a professional conference? I even had my consultant sign his chapter. I talked with him after the conference. I don’t think he knew just how much it meant for me to have his autograph in my book. I now have two books signed by David Jobes. Not that it increases the value of the books to anyone but me.
I kind of am in a low mood. I am in mega pain and can’t fricken sleep. I haven’t gone over to the dark side but I know it’s coming soon as I get over tired enough. This really sucks. I am trying to listen to music to help drown out the emptiness of the room but it’s annoying me more than helping. I hope the demons don’t come out tonight. I already emailed my psychiatrist once tonight and I have a feeling I will write something more depressing if Mr. Hyde comes out.
In the book after the forward by Marsha Linehan, I wrote Styron’s cauldron piece. I can’t remember why I did that. But it just seemed fitting. There are a lot of notes in the book that I took. Some I can’t even read my own handwriting! I hate when that happens. I know I am not a suicidologist as much as my therapist thinks I am. I might know a lot about suicide but that doesn’t make me a suicidologist. I am just not quite there yet.
Thought this might help some of my viewers
midnightdemons7 
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