To understand suicide we must understand suffering and psychological pain and various thresholds for enduring it; to treat suicidal people (and prevent suicide) we must address and soften and reduce the psychache that drives it.
–Edwin Shneidman The Suicidal Mind
Category: suicide
Waking up Early and other things
Waking up Early and other things
I have been up since around 0630. I got about five hours of sleep as I went to bed around 0130. I emailed my neurologist last night because I am running low on my medication for nerve pain. I don’t take it often so the refills have expired. Just got a response from her. As I suspected, I need to see her to get the meds. UGH. I hate dealing with her office staff. I could try and get it from my PCP. I see the NP the 26th so I will wait until then. I have enough to keep me going until then. If she doesn’t give me it, I will make an appointment to see the neuro.
I plan on changing my sheets today. It’s something that needs to happen but it always is a pain in the ass to do because of my back issues. I always throw out the back of my hip when I change the sheets. But then, I can stand too long and it will go out on me, too. I still haven’t gotten it checked out. It has been a problem for me for the past year. I took it out last Thanksgiving when I sneezed. It got better but then I sneezed after Christmas and it went out again. I have been in pain ever since. This time I am going to try and not keep so much stuff in my “office” side of the bed. That will make it easier to change the sheets because then I don’t have to keep moving stuff around.
I also want to work on the story I wrote a few weeks ago. I am loaded with good coffee so I hope it makes me want to write. I am trying to avoid going back to sleep so I had coffee. I won’t be going to the Square because I need to pick up my niece later today. But I need to change the sheets first. That is a priority.
I got a lot of views on my paper on the analysis of the song “How to save a life”. And most of the viewing from countries today have been from Ireland. I like that my blog has international readers. It means a lot to me to have readers from other countries reading my blog. Granted the majority of my readers are from the US. But today, Ireland is the top country. It could change over the course of the day. I love watching my stats because it’s fun. I learn through the search engine what readers brought them to my blog and then I can have a post about the search so that other readers, usually those with Cauda Equina Syndrome, can find my blog easier. My all time most read blog is my Knackered post.
I have therapy again today. I texted her with some things that I thought about. I got interrupted so many times yesterday with family stuff that I wasn’t able to write about it. I had started a blog with ideas and rather than sending it to her, I just texted her because it was easier. It was only a few things and it fit on a text. I hope that we can continue the conversation. After 14 years, it will be very difficult not to be in contact with her if we end. Our 15th anniversary date is in January.
Because I am feeling very hopeless and my therapist asked me to, I have put off the date that I was going to end my life. I feel defeated because now I will have to continue to live when I don’t want to. And because of the holidays, I don’t want to end my life then, which means I will have to see my next birthday. It was something I have been trying to avoid this past year. I wanted to stay 39 forever. It shouldn’t be so complicated, but it is. I hate living. It is such a damn struggle all the time. And the thought that I keep having bowel accidents doesn’t appeal to me for living. I have tried to deal with this stuff the best I could but I am so tired. I get no relief from the daily physical pain I have. I am tired of people telling me I need to lose weight when I don’t have the motivation to or the mobility to do so. I wish I could walk like I used to but I can’t. If I could, I wouldn’t be disabled from work. I know my job was stressful and it caused me to be very suicidal at times, but least it gave me something to look forward to every day. It gave me some purpose. Now I have none of that. Sure, I write but other than this blog, I doubt people would buy my book. It’s really depressing and powerful writing that no one sees or understands. It’s not a hopeful book. How can I write about hope when I don’t have any? I just think my death is the only way out of this misery that I am in.
Last night I was writing in my new journal. I was describing what I am saying right now. I might have to go into the hospital because I feel like I am going to snap. One more trigger and I am afraid I might go into constriction and then I will attempt to take my life. But I really don’t want to go there. Just the thought of the bullshit and my meds being split up because they don’t have the right tablet dose keeps me away. I take 12 pills a night. Last time I was in the hospital I had to take almost 16 pills. It was the same medication, but they didn’t have my BP med in a 40 mg tablet so they split it in 10 mgs tablets. That is four pills I had to take. I don’t know if they will have my other BP med in the dose. I would hate to take fucking another 4 pills for that, too. But there is no treatment while you are in the hospital. You just go to groups that are for arts and crafts, mostly. There is no psychotherapy going on in any of these groups or even in the meetings with your case worker. It’s just an adult babysitting system. Someone checks on you every 15 minutes and you talk with staff, which turns out usually to be better than talking with your case worker and psychiatrist. If I go to the unit I was before, that is how it is. If I go to another unit, you just get 15 minutes with the “team” and that is all. Sometimes you meet with your staff person, sometimes you don’t. It sucks. I rather just stay outpatient and struggle than be inpatient. Least I can have my electronics and not be watched.
thoughts behind quotes of the day
I have been using Shneidman’s quotes for the Quote a Day thingy. I wanted to let the world know how much he means to me so each day, if I remember, I will quote something from his books. I don’t have his exhaustive library but I have some.
Shneidman was a great man. He called me out of the blue one day while I was at work. I didn’t recognize the number so I didn’t answer it. He left a voicemail saying to call him soon. But the trouble was I had an appointment with my therapist around the time he called. I called him later that evening and we had a chat. I talked with the father of suicidology. The man that created psychache. It was such an honor to me that he called me. He wanted to know more about the paper that I sent him. He also wanted to see the pain scale I was talking about. This guy didn’t have a computer so he couldn’t Google it. I still have no idea how he got my number. I know I didn’t give it to him when I sent him my paper. I will never know as he died a few months later. But I never will forget him calling me. I just wish I had contacted him sooner rather than later. Maybe we could have had a relationship. I will never know. He died a few days after his last birthday. Funny, I don’t remember when he called me and when I returned the phone call. I should have made note of it. I know I saved his voicemail. It’s on a little cassette tape along with my therapists messages that were important to me.
Having a Crappy Day, Literally
Having a Crappy Day, Literally
I woke up early this morning in pain. I took some pain meds and when I went downstairs to have my nutritious donuts, my brother in law came up with some dishes to be washed. He and my sister are renovating their kitchen and don’t have a sink to use right now. He told me my mother would be watching my niece as she didn’t have school today. Weird because they don’t have school on Monday either because of the holiday. So the kids have one long weekend. Anyways, my mother wasn’t up yet so I said I would watch her until her grandmother came and got her. While I got settled in the kitchen debating on making a burrito, my mother came downstairs and so freed me from having to babysit. HA! I knew I would be toast anyways as I took my pain meds and within an hour, I was. I didn’t sleep very good as I had weird dreams and then my mother screamed my name and scared me to death. Someone was at the door and she couldn’t go down because she hurt her other knee. So I get up and go down the two flights of stairs to someone that isn’t there. My niece had answered the door. Why the fuck she didn’t tell my mother she did is beyond me. I was so pissed I got up for nothing. So I go back up the two flights of stairs and my ankle decides it doesn’t like it so I am in pain again. I take another pain pill and go back to sleep.
I got up around noon or shortly there after. I had to go to the bathroom so I did. And then killed some time before getting dressed and catching the bus to the Square for coffee. I was planning to check out the price of chicken wings so I can make them tomorrow night or Sunday. I got to the Square and did my routine of having coffee and writing in my journal. I then went to the meat shop to check on the price of chicken wings. They only had small packages. I would need at least three or four to make the quantity I needed for the recipe and I didn’t want to spend that much on it so headed back to the bus stop to catch the bus. I then decided to go to Stop and Shop to pick up my prescription and get the rest of the ingredients needed for the recipe. Soon as I was approaching my stop to get off, it downpoured. So I didn’t want to walk in the rain as I didn’t have an umbrella. I knew it was going to rain today but thought I could beat it out. I was so close. So no chicken wings today. I will have to go tomorrow if the weather permits or if my sister or brother in law takes me. I would take either of their cars but I can’t drive them. They are big SUVs and I just don’t trust my peripheral vision to drive them.
So rather than wait in the rain for the next bus, I got off at the station to go home. I didn’t think anything was wrong. I got stuck in the down pour at the station and got pretty wet. Luckily, the bus came before I got soaked. And the bus had the AC on so it was pretty damn cold on the ride home. I just got to my house when it down poured again. I couldn’t win staying dry. Got in the house, changed and then felt like I had to go to the bathroom again. As I got up, I felt sticky and panicked. I didn’t pass any gas or anything while I was out so I was hoping it was something other than what I thought it was. I was wrong. I crapped my pants and didn’t realize it. That just made my day. On the anniversary of my CES diagnosis, I crap my pants. Just fucking wonderful. I really was pissed. I don’t know how long that crap was in my pants. I had no sensation of it until I came home. It’s possible I went while I was undressing. I don’t fucking know. I just know that it sucks. I feel ashamed of myself. I hate my therapist for keeping me here. I could die right now from embarrassment. Sure getting soaked by the rain is one thing but crapping your pants is another. I hate this condition. I should have killed myself 10 years ago so I wouldn’t have to be dealing with this today or any day.
midnightdemons7 
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