Category: suicide

ramble 628

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, suicide

I had therapy today. I have to say that this new development has my therapist’s curiosity piqued. We tried talking about it today but there was nothing new. Things have settled down some and I think I am back to being “me” again. She didn’t have a chance to read the letter I wrote her last night. I just told her the contents and thankfully, I didn’t have to read it to her.

Though it is still early for the poll to close, the majority of people that voted (9) wants me to continue this blog. So I will write every day, even if I don’t feel like. But there maybe some days that I am unable to write. Tomorrow is one of those days. I am hoping that the stress of the day won’t stir things up. I have my father’s appointment in the morning. I hope the doc is on time or close to it, as last time we were there almost all morning. Granted my father was late getting there so that didn’t help matters. If we manage to get out before 12 I will go to my second home (Starbucks) and also will be bringing my laptop so I can blog, possibly, or write in my journal. I have slightly given up on the short story collection book that I have been working on. I found out they don’t do well. I still haven’t heard from the agent. It has been a little more than a week now. I am half expecting an email saying “sorry not interested” or something to that effect. I have 3.5 weeks left to know of an interest.

Funny thing is, I don’t think I have told my therapist this bit of information, LOL. Since we have been dealing with the DID stuff, I really have time to tell her or mention it. I guess if something happens by chance and I do get an agent, then I will let her know.

I have to take a shower today. Thing is I don’t want to because my ankle is acting up. I took some pain meds so if it calms down enough and I have a window of no pain, I will try and take advantage and shower. That is how my life has become. Usually taking it in the morning is better than during the day or evening. But sometimes if I take a morning shower, it drains me and I won’t be able to do anything the rest of the day. And tomorrow I need all my spoons with me so no shower. It has to be tonight at the latest.

I was singing to one of the Luke Bryan songs on my MP3. I was just mouthing the words because I know my mother wouldn’t be able to hear me anyways. She now thinks I am “happy”. She also bitched that I don’t help her around the house. Well, I got a bad ankle so I can’t do much. She said she was “lazy” and doesn’t know why. I can tell her why but she wouldn’t like it. She is overweight and depressed. And for someone that has COPD, that isn’t good. But does she do anything about it? NOOOOO. She also is in chronic pain with her knees and back. Does she take something for it? Nope. Not even so much as an aspirin. Fucking kills me that she is so stubborn. There are medications out there to help her and she just doesn’t want to be on them. I can understand. I was there where she was. But I wouldn’t be able to function, at all, if I didn’t take the pills I take, including my psych meds. Sure, I have problems paying for my meds, everyone does, but she also has diabetes and her insulin is ridiculously expensive. It pisses me off that her test strips are free but her insulin costs an arm and a leg. She needs her insulin more than she needs the test strips!

Today is National World Suicide Prevention Day. One of my groups, the depression and chronic illness one, a woman was saying all she thought about was suicide 100%. I gave her the suicide number to call as well as the text number in case she felt more comfortable with that. I then find out through one of the admins that we lost two group members through suicide the past two weeks. You can lead a horse to water but you can’t force them to drink.

It is weird that a month ago, I was wallowing in the depths of suicidal depression and it wasn’t until I started back on an antidepressant that I started feeling better. I still was suicidal during the first few weeks, and especially after Robin Williams died. I remember writing to my writing partner, saying it was my turn now. I was in the hospital so there was no way I could try. And after I left, I found I didn’t want to try. I still had the ideas in my head, but the motive behind them were not as strong as they were the first couple of weeks in the hospital. So even though I didn’t get the support I wanted, the hospital did do something.

Games, mindwise and otherwise

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, suicide, writing

Games, mindwise and otherwise

So, I joined a group for my Facebook game, Pioneer Trail, because some of the neighbors are no longer player out of my 125 people. I got new neighbors that play actively. But I still have not received my stuff that I need. I am behind in my missions because I was in the hospital. Still not up to speed with the current missions. And today I got really pissed off because I found out you needed to complete a mission inside a mission to get the stuff you need. I stopped playing and just collected rewards off other people. It was easier to do this than send out the stuff I needed in return.

I then had therapy in the afternoon. I would have preferred lunch with my aunt. My therapist read the blog I posted that had another “alter” and boy, did we talk about this for some time. She wanted me to read the paragraph to her and I wanted nothing more to do with the letter. I told her the handwriting didn’t change, but, it sort of did. I wrote a journal entry prior to writing the letter and the handwriting was different than that of the journal. The letter’s handwriting was more sloppy than that of the journal. AND the last thing I wrote was “good night” in Italian. I remember writing most of the letter except the last paragraph. That last paragraph has my mind going in directions I didn’t think were possible. My therapist thinks that it was a part of myself that is angry with her, and she is okay with it. But my “core self” is not okay with it. I hate losing control like I did. And then the fact I slept soundly afterwards is a little bizarre, to me anyways. My therapist thinks it was a way to access the different parts of me through my writing. I just think it is one big game. And at the end of it, my alter is going to succeed in killing me. I thought, up until now, I just had one, Mr. Hyde. Now that I have this unnamed alter inside and it is a he. There were crazy circumstances that allowed this to happen. One, I was on heavy pain medication. Two, I was exhausted from being up very early in the morning. Three, I had lack of sustenance for most of the day. (I didn’t eat anything after I had my mocha that morning.) So all of this seems to factor in. Today I didn’t eat much, except for dinner. I skipped lunch because I just wasn’t hungry. The 4th factor was that my annoyance level was high and I was angry because of dealing with my father that day that didn’t go the way I wanted it to. I had expected to spend no more than twenty minutes for his blood draw and it was almost an hour. That lead to my further blood sugar withdrawal. It was also hot that day, and I tend to be cranky in the heat. I just cannot tolerate it. Add all these factors in, no wonder I needed an escape of some sort and that alter wanted so badly to be let out. But I mistook it for Hyde. I even said in the letter, here is Hyde. But NONE of the writing was his. It was not a suicidal letter/paragraph. It was just someone screaming at my therapist that he was in charge and that you have to let her go, something to that effect. It also spoke of my transgender issues, stating that my therapist should give up the nonsense of calling me a him. Even as I am writing this, I am getting scared it might come out again. The rule that was drilled into me when I was younger was that what went on in the house, stayed in the house. I wasn’t to let anyone know of what was going on. I acted like the man of the house because I was the oldest, and I took this responsibility seriously. Unfortunately, my sisters were not the “good” ones like I was in school. They had their own agendas. They still do.

What troubles me is that I now have displayed a couple of alters while writing. It scares me that this is an outlet for them because it is possible for them to come out when I least expect it to. I think I have some control but what if I lose that control? I haven’t discussed this with my therapist but I think she can agree that my “core self” is in control the majority of the time. It is only when I “choose” to let loose the alter that it comes out. But then I worry about dissociating. That is a different set of rules. The only time I can clearly recall dissociating was last year when I “lost” a few hours and blogged something without my knowledge of it. I blamed Hyde because it was suicidal in nature. I call Hyde, Hyde because it is the “evil” side of me, the dark side that no one sees. It is a benign side, I know it won’t hurt me but it might if let loose for too long. Being suicidal is just too unpredictable. Words can take action very quickly.
My therapist wants me to “embrace” this other side of me. She is curious about it. I just wonder if we were meeting face to face if this person would come out more. It really is hard to predict. I didn’t know this one existed until last week. It was scary. I rather not have this side come out again. But only if I am writing. If it wants to write, I guess I could let it out and write. Just as long as I go to sleep afterwards.

ramble 072

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders, suicide, transgender

Ramble 072

I had my therapy session today. She was overwhelmed with the amount of letters I had written to her while I was in the hospital. We talked a lot about what transpired in the hospital while she was on vacation. I don’t remember if the letters contain what my stay was about, chances are they will give more detail than I can remember.

After my appointment, like my routine goes, I went to Starbucks and actually did write up the short story I wrote while in the hospital. I was hoping to add to it while typing it out but no such luck. I just have a little over 500 words. I don’t even think you can call it an essay.

I forgot how I wrote the short story piece. It was very personal and yet depressing, leaving me feeling like I was boxing myself in on purpose. But it wasn’t clear why I was doing so. Sure, I gave a few reasons but it still wasn’t clear what it was that was causing the pressure to build up, fueling the suicidal feelings and depression that went with it. I know that if I answer this question, I might be able to write a longer piece to place it in my short story book. I am not going to publish it as a blog because I want some part of my book not to be blog entries. Right now, ALL of my second book are blog entries. I know, real original.

I didn’t walk too much today than my normal route to and from Starbucks. I did have to stand a bit while waiting for the bus that was late. It didn’t come till almost 20 minutes later. That is a long time for me to be standing. Luckily, I bumped into a former co-worker and we chatted while we waited for our respective buses. But I guess standing for that length of time, my leg is hurting me. And I still had the block and half walk home from the bus stop. My foot and ankle are swollen like I have been on them all day and they hurt. I just hope it doesn’t keep me up at night like last night and the night before last. I have been waking up in the wee hours of the morning in pain. Last night I waited out my night time meds and I was still up till three in the morning. Luckily, my niece came to my room around 9 to say her good-bye to me. She is leaving for college today and will be now spending time in her dorm. She is not far, she still will be in Boston just not at home so often. I still haven’t wrapped my head around it. I miss her terribly already and she has only been gone since this morning.

I am feeling depressed today but I have forced myself out of the house today and I felt a little better. I was able to get a seat at Starbucks, one with a table for two rather than the large common table to write. I was sitting on the bench side but had to move to the chair because the cushion was like a water bed. Every time someone moved, you moved with it. It was making me seasick. I am glad I forced myself to get out of the house. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to do it after my therapy appointment because I was down and tired afterwards. Therapy can be draining at times. Though today it wasn’t that bad because I was just getting caught up of what was going on while I was in the hospital. She too frowned at the thought of the case manager (CM) trying to stop me from being a suicidologist. In fact, with me writing another blog for the AAS, I am sure she (the CM) would be having a fit right now. But I am free from her clutches. She just doesn’t understand suicide the way I do. She thinks it is triggering. But really it is not, if you see things in a clinical type of way. And I mostly read professional articles on suicide, not so much people’s blogs about how they attempted to kill themselves or that they are going to kill themselves. I know my blog is about that. But it is my blog and I will write what I WANT. No one is going to tell me what I can or can’t write when it comes to my personal experiences on suicide. I struggle too much with the thoughts to give a damn what people think and if it is too much for them, then go find another blog to read. There are many out there that has nothing to do with suicidal thinking or chronic pain or struggles with being a transgendered person.

In fact, I am struggling right now with the TG issue because I had to stop my birth control pill to have a mense. I was getting too many days of discharge and it had to be done. Supposedly, I am only supposed to go three months on and one week off then continue. I can go for up to four or five months without having to have a break. And I am hating it because I have to wear female clothing and feminine products. Not to mention the bleeding that messes with your mind. But no one understands this except another FTM (female to male) person. I really need to find another transgendered person to talk to about this because it really does a number on me mentally. I know they exist somewhere. So if another blogger knows of one, please comment so I can get to know you, if you are comfortable doing so.

Runaway Train

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, depression, mood disorders, suicide

“Can you help me remember how to smile
make it somehow all seem worthwhile
how on earth did I get so jaded
life’s mysteries seem so faded”

These are the lyrics to Soul Asylum’s Runaway Train. These lyrics have been resonating with me over the past few days. The meaning is quite clear. I feel I don’t remember how to smile. Life seems jaded, far away from me. Another line is “somehow I’m neither here nor there” I ave been struggling with my alter Mr. Hyde the past few days. Last night he really wanted to come out and play. So I let him write yesterday’s blog and the lyrics to this song for my therapist. He seemed satisfied.

Runaway Train has been my favorite song since it came out in the early 90’s. The lyrics touch me very deeply. It’s a song about abuse, neglect, and the need to escape these things. Yet not matter where we go, they always follow us. Like the lyrics state “Runaway train never going back, wrong way on a one way track, seems like I should be getting somewhere, somehow I’m neither here nor there”

Every time hear the song my heart aches because I can never escape the pain. One of the tracks is “bought a ticket for a runaway train, like a madman laughing at the rain, a little out of touch, little insane, Just easier than dealing with the pain.

I interpret the ticket with suicide and how pain is dealt with. Suicide, for me, has always been my ticket out of this world. I read about it to understand it better. I write about it to feel better. Yet I know one day I will lose the battle, like Robin Williams, and take my own life. There is no way I can educate my family for my loss. For they refuse to acknowledge that I have mental illness. According to my sister “there is no mental illness on her side of the family”. This was said three weeks after my last hospitalization for depression. It’s tough to deal with. Yet I have no strength to educate them after all these years. I am surprised my brother in law hasn’t called me. But then, he, too, is in denial about things.

The last line of the song always gets me. It says “I runaway but it always seems the same” And it’s true. No matter how many times I have a depressive episode, it’s like my first and aways feels like it’s never going to end. Then I remember, usually by the scars on my wrist, that things were worst. Things always seem the same with depression but they never really are. Each episode takes a piece of you that cannot be replaced or taken back. Each episode tears you apart ad brings you to the edge of suicide nearly every time. And it hurts in ways you cannot describe. So I am on the one way track, trying never to go back, but I’m neither here nor there.