Category Archives: suicide

World Mental Health Day

This is going to be negative but I don’t care as it is my lived experience: I’ve been in therapy since I was 15 because I self-harmed. Seen a wide range of therapists from social workers to psychologists to psychiatrists. Most have ended treatment with me for various reasons. I am now on therapist number 14. First 6 months I didn’t think I was going to stay with him. He is a psychologist with supposed experience with trauma and suicidal ideation. He took me on knowing this. Now since the MeToo, I’ve been having intrusive memories. I tell him about it and he shrugs. Seriously? Why am I seeing you if you don’t know how to deal with trauma when you said you had training? I feel like the system has let me down, yet again.

Before I even saw him, I must have talked to at least 5 different therapists. None would take me on because of my suicidal history. I thought I could shove it aside and just have this guy because he returned my call and wanted to work with me. Now it is a year later and I am finding it so difficult to deal with him. I am once again looking for therapists and I am wondering why. I live in a large city. There shouldn’t be just 1 therapist in my 5 mile radius that deals with suicidal histories. Suicide is its own can of worms. I understand from a suicidologist standpoint. Not everyone is cut out to deal, it isn’t taught in school yada yada. I get it. But where is the compassion in therapy? Are too many good therapists burned out? Am I ever going to find someone to help me through suicidal crisis and chronic pain and all the other shit I deal with? Or is that too much because I don’t follow god or help myself?

Painful Saturday Blog 29 Sept 18

Painful Saturday blog 29 Sept 18

I woke up before 8 as bladder said so. I went and when I came back to my room and in my bed, my foot exploded. I took my morning pain meds. I waited a half hour and the pain didn’t calm down, I took a breakthrough med. There wasn’t a hell of a lot that I needed to do today but having pain that early in the morning was not good. The pharmacy wasn’t going to be open till 10. That gave it some time to settle down.

I made breakfast. I was going to make scrambled eggs and make it into a burrito. However, soon as I put the butter in the pan to melt, I forgot the scrambled part so had country style eggs. I put cheese in it and on the burrito tortilla. I barely finished it. It always makes me so full. I decided to make coffee. I ended up spilling it on myself. I went to take a sip and I tipped my cup before it reached my lips. Oops! So after I finished the coffee, I decided to shave and shower. My back didn’t like it. By the time I was finished shaving, I had to sit down. Whatever my brother in law did to the water control changed the hot/cold settings. I had it on half way and the water was warm so I moved it over a little bit more to get hotter water. I hate when it touches things because he always fucks things up.

Showering was fun as I had to sit down every 3 minutes or so. It wasn’t just my lower back that was hurting, my upper back was also cramping. I have no idea why this is happening. I hope when I go to the pain program they can figure out why this happens. I went upstairs and got dressed. I didn’t put my PJs on as it was after 10 and I needed to go to the pharmacy. I rested for a bit. Then I didn’t know what to wear, jeans or shorts. It was 65 degrees out so I opted for shorts. I was glad because I was halfway down the block before I realized I forgot my scripts at home. Do’h! I was sweating by the time I walked back to the pharmacy. I have no idea why I was sweating so much. It wasn’t really hot out or hot in the store. I guess the exertion of walking just makes me sweat, I don’t know. I had my cane with me because I didn’t want to wear my air cast for my sprain.

I came home and thought I would need another shower. I took off my shirt and it was soaked. I dried off and just rested. I wasn’t in too much pain. The pain meds were working. Around 1230, I got hungry again so made some bacon. I always use at least a quarter pound when I make my sandwich. I love bacon. And this time I didn’t get a pound of fat like I did last delivery. This was decent cut.

I came back to my room and my foot again flared up. It was about 4 hours after I took my meds. I waited to see if rest would calm it down. Twenty minutes later I was still hurting so I took another BT med. While I was waiting for it to work, I was reading Twitter. The game was on but it was on Fox and I hate that network. I didn’t feel like listening so just read Twitter. I read a thread about how an author who wrote about a princess hero keeps getting asked by educators, librarians, and parents when she will write a book about a boy hero. Her response is that there shouldn’t be a gender associated with a book and there are boys that like this book. But in the adult world, they hate to see that so make the assumption a boy hero is needed. It got me thinking about my books and why they are not selling well, if at all. I came up with this thread (a thread is a string of tweets that relate to what the Twitter writer strings together):

I was reading a thread about an author who wrote a princess hero and teachers/librarians/booksellers kept asking questions about when the author would write something for boys. The author said that the book was a book not a gender type thing. It got me thinking of my books. They haven’t been best sellers and I know part of it is that I need to promote them more. But family members have asked me to write happier books. I am not a happy person. I write the darkness that is inside of me. Some people can relate but most judge a book by its cover. It deals with #mentalillness, forget not touching it. It deals w #suicide not touching it. Why are things so scary for people to read? I share my pain so others can possibly understand and know they aren’t alone. I let the darkness out so it doesn’t stay inside to eat me up. Yes what I write can be scary to others. I guess I can relate to the author but on a different level.

About Therapists

About therapists

I have been thinking about writing this for a while, just an overview about the many therapists I have had from all different degrees and orientations. I started off seeing a school counselor. She was getting her degree in counseling, though I am not sure if it was as a school counselor or a social worker. We only saw each other for a few months and then when school started again, I started seeing a social worker that worked at another school. She was good. Had the idea that I shouldn’t use drugs or alcohol. We had a “safety contract”, which my first 10 or so did. It mostly said I wouldn’t kill myself until the next meeting and if I did feel like acting to go to the emergency room or call 911. I only saw her for about 10 months. She left and I saw someone new, a person who was also seeking their degree. I basically feel like she took advantage of me and was only interested in collecting my insurance. Nothing got worked on. I was hospitalized every three months, the last one was when I came out as “gay”. Transgender was never talked about with any therapist until the one I saw prior to my current therapist.

As I had state insurance, therapists were coming and going. By the 10th one, I was tired of them leaving so I left the system for private as I then had private insurance. Only problem was that this therapist didn’t take my insurance. When I switched in 2001, we saw each other for a month before my disc blew and then I didn’t see her again for another three months. We kept in touch by phone. It was a lot to go through. I didn’t talk about my psych issues as I just had my physical health jeopardized. We worked together for sixteen years. All throughout, I was suicidal. But I had the odd hospitalization because we worked on stabilizing using frequent contact. We saw each other sometimes three times a week when I was bad. Then we saw each other twice a week. She moved offices until she moved 30 miles away from Boston. It was tough because I didn’t have a car. I did but it broke down. We just had phone therapy. This went on for about five years. I would get a zipcar once a month to see her but that took some planning around my pain and weather.

The suicidal ideation I had made my therapist nervous. We tried different things, but she never consistently held me to them. I chided away from it because I knew what she was looking for or rather had an idea. I knew it wasn’t going to change. During the last year of therapy we had, we were constantly fighting over my suicidality. She just wasn’t listening to me anymore. I couldn’t explain why I was suicidal. I just mentioned it and she would “hog” the rest of the session with her endless talk, which I just took as her anxiety. It was interfering. I found out she was seeking consultation over me and I felt threatened by that. Eventually we just called it quits. I didn’t see anyone for few months. I had to collect myself. She gave me a few therapists but they weren’t taking on new clients.
Enter my current therapist. He had called back within a few hours of me leaving a message and we had set a time up with in a few days. He sent me his paperwork and other insurance stuff. All throughout seeing the previous therapist, we had tried different suicidal safety planning and scales and whatnots. This guy was not for it. I think the less paperwork, the better. And it bugs me! He just wants to talk things out. For the first six months I didn’t know if this was going to work out. But I had no where else to go. I was tired of searching for therapists only to be told no when I revealed I had a suicidal history. He wasn’t afraid of me talking about suicide and I ease up. Even when I told him I had a plan, he didn’t freak out on me. He understood why I felt that way and we talked it out. It decreased my feelings so I didn’t feel like no one was on my side. I often felt better after sessions but there were a few where I was more frustrated. I texted him a few times and got supportive responses, something my previous therapist did not do, at all. She only responded if we had to change appointment times.

I have been seeing this guy for 16 months. I still find it totally weird that we have an understanding of why I am suicidal yet there is no plan in place, so to speak. He is okay if I live and okay if I die, as long as I don’t do it in his office. He hasn’t taught me things I don’t already know. He would like me to be more social, but that is kind of hard with my physical pain. I like being alone anyway as noise can irritate me, like it is today. Hell, just being in Starbucks when their music is loud is enough to have me leave after I finish eating or when I am ready to write. He doesn’t try to pin things down and my biggest annoyance is when he says we will work on something but doesn’t go further than that. And then when I bring it up next session (I have to bring things up, he won’t), it still doesn’t go anywhere. But I have had that happen with the last therapist I saw, too. She would say we need to work on this and we never did.

I don’t mean to write this to defer you from seeking therapy, that isn’t my goal. I just wanted to write about my experiences with therapists and how they react to suicidal thoughts. Everyone is different. And maybe you started seeing a therapist and then the suicide thoughts started happening. The therapist freaks out and you are then forced to see someone else. Or you attempted and now the therapist doesn’t want to work with you anymore. That is sad and unfortunate but I know it does happen. Suicide is like an elephant (or hippo as someone called it that the other day) in the room that you both know is there but don’t want to face. Or maybe your therapist is trained and does work with you on the issues as long as there is a safety plan in place first with contact numbers and you collaborate on what will work and what will not work. The focus has to be on YOU not the therapist’s comfort level. While my therapist does that and gives me the time to try and work things out as well as support me in any way he can, I still sometimes feel like he just doesn’t get it or dropped the ball on an issue that is never going to see light of day again. I know they are busy people. They have lives outside the office. They see so many patients per day and then deal with the wonderful insurance that can or cannot accept their claims. I don’t know. I am not making excuses for them but if you have a therapist that cares about you and takes your suicidal thoughts seriously, works with you on keeping you safe, and the chronicity of the matter, great. I just am still trying to work with someone and cope with a therapist that says you can kill yourself as long as it isn’t in my office.

CRPS Unpredictability

About 45 minutes ago, I have no idea what I did. I was in my normal fetal position with my feet on top of one another. I moved my bad CRPS foot into the curve of my good ankle and it felt like I was trying to snap it in half. I cried. I screamed OW. No one would hear me. My mother was knocked out. I tried to remain still but that just made the pain worse. I had to sit up and take a BT med. Carefully I maneuvered my feet so I could turn to sit up. Pain was all over my ankle and foot. I didn’t want to live anymore. What would be the point? More pain?

I posted on social media that I wanted to blog but I couldn’t find the words. All I could think to say was I am in pain. I posted why can’t I end it? Why? A few friends responded. I got a phone call from my cousin in Texas. I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to talk. I can’t talk when I am like this. My mind is in the gutter and no one understands. No one gets this pain because they don’t feel it every day like I do.

I posted to my CRPS group. Some of them get it. Some have been where I am. Rain is the only thing stopping me from ending it right now. I don’t care. I am reserving some emergency cash for when I feel like this again and the weather is better. Maybe i won’t go through with it.

I got a lot going on the next few weeks. Don’t know how but I’ve booked an appt nearly every day the last week in August. That is going to kill me and I’ll have to cancel some of those appts.

The thing that bothers me is that aside from doing a few dishes and showering, that is all I did today. I’ve rested most of the day. So why the fuck am I in pain now?? I had put on a sock on the offending limb because it got cold. Now it is hot. I am scared that taking it off is going to cause me more pain. But the sock is irritating me so needs to come off. Fucker

Twitter Rant: Body Dysmorphia

Twitter Rant: Body Dysmorphia

I am having serious body dysmorphia because I am literally stuck in my female body and I want to be a male. but due to my pain condition, I can’t have T to move forward with my transition. I want top surgery but can’t have it because of $$$. I have had bought of severe suicidality today because I am in the wrong fucking body. then I found out someone reported a tweet to twitter because I was suicidal. twitter didn’t tell me what tweet it was so I don’t fucking care anymore. I am tired of people being “scared” of the word “suicide”. You know, people used to be afraid of the word cancer. they thought that saying the word would give them the disease. this was back in the 1800s and early 1940s or so (guessing here) but guess what, you cannot get cancer from talking about it the same fucking way that if you talk about suicide, it will NOT LEAD TO SUICIDE!!! Talking about suicide, least for me is to let off steam. I suffer from chronic suicidiality and need an outlet. Twitter is my outlet if suicide upsets you, maybe you should find another platform to use. or better yet, don’t follow me or even better, MUTE the word so it doesn’t pop up in your timeline. I am sick of being reported. I know what to do should I feel like ACTING on my thoughts/feelings I have the emergency numbers and I can call my psychaitrist 24/7 if I need to. and, get this, I know where there is an emergency room where I can be admitted if that feels like I should be right now. Suicide doesn’t mean end of life when talking/venting about it. so, yea, today has been a hard day because of my damn things on my chest. I wore a tank top in public for the first time and I will never wear one again because I felt too exposed. I didn’t feel manly. I felt like a fucking female. and it hurts. it fucking does and if you don’t understand it, get off my fucking timeline. I am not going to explain how I feel like an asshole because I am in the wrong body