Category: suicide

a little bit about psych hospitalizations

by Midnight Demon, posted in depression, mental disorders, mood disorders, psychache, suicide

Had a frustrating session with my therapist today. She was all in my business on the transgender issues today for some reason. I don’t know why she brings it up and I just get really mad when she does because I feel like she is really getting into my personal business. I just feel like if I want to talk about it, I WILL bring it up, not her. She feels that I should be in a TG group, which I don’t want to be in. Right now I got so many different things going on in my head, the last thing on my mind is my TG. I am really struggling dealing with chronic pain all the time and wanting to escape from it but knowing there is no escape unless I am sleeping 24/7. Today I had a quick shower, less than fifteen minutes, and I still was in pain from standing that length of time. It sucks. I am supposed to have coffee with a friend of mine today. I am still waiting for his phone call to meet up.

The we talked a little about how yesterday fizzled me. I don’t know but I feel like I am going to explode soon with anger toward her. I know that part of the reason is that I brought up the roots of why I am suicidal, though it still isn’t quite clear. All I remember is that I wanted to die when I was eight years old. By the age of ten I was planning my death on my birthday because I didn’t want to make it to eleven. Greed spoiled that plan because I wanted to see what kind of gifts I got and I wasn’t going to kill myself on Christmas. That would be wrong as God would never have forgiven me (this was what I was thinking at the age of ten). I was depressed from then on but always kept it hidden from everyone. I tried to keep it hidden though some days I just didn’t want to be around anyone. I started moving away from my best friend in middle school. We were at different schools and different grade school levels. I didn’t want to burden him with my thoughts of death. He wanted me to see someone but I knew I wasn’t crazy so why talk to a counselor. I just thought that I would get in huge trouble if I spoke to some one outside of the family. Things that went on in the family, stayed in the family. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone what was going on. And it hurt because I was hurting. I don’t know why. My father was an asshole and still is. He cares more about himself than another person. He is part of the reason I turned out the way I did. My mother didn’t really do anything to stop my father from being abusive. She just let him have the run of the household like wives do. And my sisters dealt with it by turning to their friends. I didn’t have too many friends outside of school until high school. Then there was just this one friend but still I don’t think she knew just how great my suicidality was. We didn’t talk about it. We avoided feelings and just hung out and listened to music or do homework. We were the nerds in school. I didn’t mind it. Schoolwork kept my mind off things. Until everything fell apart during my freshman year. I can’t talk about the details because it will just trigger my PTSD. Even now I am getting anxious about it.

So with all this stuff that my therapist knows, why would my TG (transgender) stuff be at the highlight of my life right now? I know that she thinks that the reason why I planned a date is because if I don’t do something to change me, then I will die. But things have changed now. Yes I could move forward to my transition and be all good with that, but that still isn’t going to change the fact that I have chronic pain every day that isn’t helped with medication. Sometimes the medication does help. Sometimes the cream that my doctor prescribed helps. I didn’t plan or maybe I already knew that things are always going to be the same. I am always going to be in pain in some shape or another. And that is why I feel like I can’t go on anymore. It is my decision. No one has the right to stop me. They can try and prevent it by putting me in the hospital but that is no guarantee that when I get out, I won’t kill myself. More patient die on discharge than anything. And even the hospital knows this. They know that if you are chronically suicidal, they still let you out after a few days in. It’s like they are saying “well, we stopped the immediate threat of you killing yourself but we hope that by keeping you here we took that away. No, you are still suicidal? Well you can go home now”. I have had this happen to me time and time again. No I have not attempted while discharged but it left me feeling like no one cared or maybe they just didn’t believe that suicidality can lasts more than 3-14 days. And you know part of it is dictated by the insurance company that you have. It’s like the insurance company says when you are well and when you are not. Soon as you show some interest in groups and start participating in the hospital program, boom, ready for discharge, even if your life still sucks and you want to die. They don’t have time to deal with you wanting to die. Just want to know if today you are going to kill yourself. Because if you want to kill yourself next week or the day after that is fine. You can do that. And I love when they ask you will you come back if the suicidal feelings return. UM, hello, they never left!!

So in essence, you are better off not going in the hospital. The best course is to stay in outpatient treatment as long as possible. Because either way, you are still going to have the same therapist to deal with when you get out of the hospital unless you quit therapy. Then you truly are on your own.

a little bit about my psychosis

by Midnight Demon, posted in psychosis, suicide, writing

My foot is burning. I just came from doing a little food shopping. Now all I want to do is sleep. I have not decided if I am going to eat today. I just have no inclination to do so as my stomach has not been the greatest the past few days. I don’t feel hungry. I just want to sleep. Maybe if I take a nap I will get hungry. I bought some Chinese food that I have not had in a while. I could make that or go to my go to, cereal.

I still have to refill my prescription for my antipsychotic. I really don’t want to as it’s thirty bucks and I am running low on cash. I have thought of not taking it but that could prove to be disastrous. I would end up back in the hospital most definitely. The voices have been held back and I am afraid that if I stop taking the meds I will regress.

I am not having a good day. I had a difficult session with my therapist. We were talking about my roots of suicidality and I didn’t like going back there. It stirred up things I rather not deal with but now I have to deal with. It doesn’t feel cathartic. It just feels horrible. Remembering what I went through as a kid. It just sucks. People thought that because I was a good kid, I didn’t have problems. They couldn’t have been more wrong. I was dying inside. I just wanted to die and yet I couldn’t let anyone know or my ass would get whooped. I tried to play it off as a happy kid as much as I could but at night it was just me and the voices. We’d talk for hours until I fell asleep. I had different voices growing up, mostly female and a few male. I had to keep them a secret too. I couldn’t talk to them openly like I could while I was in my room. This went on from the age of five to now. I still talk to the voices, especially when I am stressed out. Sometimes they are my sounding board. Sometimes they are mean to me by criticizing everything I do. They would always do it in school while I was taking a test but I could never talk back to them. They were the adults and I was the kid so I had to be quiet. I could only talk to them when I was in my room. And still do. I rarely talk to them when I am with another person. When I read they are the voice that narrates the words for me. We have a symbiotic relationship. I can’t survive without them and they cannot survive without me. I take meds to control the voices and sometimes they are too quiet and I cannot function. There has to be a murmur of voices for me to function. It has always been this way. When there isn’t, I just shut down. I can’t think. I can’t write. I can’t read. I can’t do anything.

The medication that I am controls the bad voices so they don’t interfere with the good voices. I just realized that I skipped the last few days. Shit. I hope that I don’t have negative consequences because of this. It will really suck to have to go back to the hospital. I just emailed my pdoc so hopefully she will give me an answer soon. I am not having bad voices now but that doesn’t mean that I won’t. I am just having some weird movement symptoms, like my arms and legs feel like they are elastic bands and I have to keep moving them so they don’t snap. That is one of the side effects of this medication. I don’t like it but Ativan keeps it in check.

don’t failures always fail?

by Midnight Demon, posted in suicide, suicide attempt

Had a bad night. Right before going to bed I decided to write my therapist a letter. I don’t know what possessed me to write to her at such a late hour but I did. It started off ok but then the more I wrote, the more I got upset. I starting thinking about how my life would be better off if I wasn’t in it. Then I started off saying that there is no point in being in therapy anyways if I was just going to take my life. And what is the point of therapy, why do I continue to go on knowing that I am going to take my life anyways. This time there is no doubt about it. I plan on taking my life sometime this year because there is no way I am going to live another year of being in chronic physical and emotional pain. I just can’t do it. I know there are people out there that have the same condition as me, who have the same degree of depression, who have no reason to go on. They might be down on their luck and everything that goes with it but they will get better with time. I also know they endure because suicide, although appealing to them, just doesn’t seem to be the answer for them or maybe they have tried and realized they are better off suffering. I don’t know. I just know that I am done. I am done trying to sort out my life knowing that I am a failure in everything I do. I might fail on this last bid to exit this world but at least I can’t say that I didn’t try hard enough this time. I have been planning for years and if I don’t do it now, then I might as well just stop saying that I am going to kill myself when I know I’m not. I want to be dead, why is that hard for people to understand. I know there are people in my life that will have no clue why I’m suicidal, but I am hoping these blogs will help them understand that I am just a loser who fails at everything I do. I should be places right now, have my degree and be on my own, making the kind of money a degree brings. Instead my illness has robbed me of that and so much more. It has destroyed my credit history and I really don’t care much anymore because I will be dead. Least I hope I will be. I might fail because I am just a failure and don’t failures always fail?

Ramblings 37: intent to die

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

Been an early morning for me. I woke up at eight and my grocery delivery isn’t until eleven or so. I am hoping it is at eleven but they gave me a time frame of eleven to one. I saved a dollar by choosing this time.

I have been feeling pretty low the past few days. I don’t know why. I just have had a low mood of not wanting to do anything but have been forcing myself to do things. Today because I didn’t wake up with the horrible ankle pain, I am going to try and take a shower after the delivery and go out and get more coffee. I just had a cup but I know it’s not enough to keep me going. Besides I like to sit outside and read for a bit to make some headway on my book. The book is called “Team of Rivals” and it is about Lincoln’s political life and cabinet while in office. Right now I am reading the stuff that happened before he was chosen as the republican candidate for the 1860 election. I find it interesting that the author is talking in detail about the three other candidates, Seward, Bates, and Chase, men who later became members of his cabinet.

Other than reading, I plan on working on my book. I am hoping that if I read it through I can edit it and add stuff to it. Right now it just sounds like an essay of my life. I have not talked about the beginnings of my life. Just started at when I took my first serious overdose that landed me in the hospital. That is my starting point for me because it changed me profoundly. It didn’t help my suicidal feelings and I wanted to kill myself more than ever while I was in the hospital but it also changed my thinking so that I could deal with my suicidality and sort of live with it. There have been attempts after this, but they were not as serious as this one was. And there were plenty of hospitalizations after too. I was averaging at least two per year. Though there was a period where I did not go in the hospital, I have been hospitalized twice this past year and may need to go in again. I have been dreading it because they always mess up my meds. I like to take my meds in the evening, right before bed. But the stupid docs think that I take them in the morning and so they haul my ass out of bed while I am still asleep just for me to tell the Med Nurse to stuff it. It all gets sorted out the day I get discharged or the day before. Not much help there.

I am doing a back up recovery on my computer so I hope that I don’t lose this paper. I have not done this since I bought my laptop. And like I thought, when it finished it restarted the laptop. Glad I saved when I did. I get really mad when I lose a document.

My groceries have just been delivered and I should shower and get dressed but I just don’t feel like it right now. I feel like writing some more but not really sure where this rambling is leading to. Been thinking about what I said earlier about my serious suicide attempt versus my not so serious ones. What defines a serious one versus not? If you need medical attention and end up on a medical ward or the ICU, that is a serious attempt. If you just take a few pills and feel woozy, that is less serious or if you slice your wrist and need stitches but did not intend to die. The key word is intent to die. There are a lot of people who try to take their life without the intention of ending their life. They just wanted to end the pain and if it meant they died than so be it. But then there are people who do the same dangerous things with the intent to die. It’s a slippery slope.

There have been a few times I have been put in the hospital because I cut my wrist. I didn’t intend to die, I just cut a little deeper than I wanted and needed some stitches. Sometimes I have been able to talk my way out of getting hospitalized because when I cut, I do not intend to die. I just want to relieve the pressure of my feelings. Then there are times when I want to overdose on something and that will lead me to a hospitalization. A couple of times I have told the hospital staff that I wanted to jump in front of a train. But that seems to scary for me. I don’t know if I will be able to do it. I once rehearsed it, not really jumping in the tracks but jumping from a height that was similar to the tracks. I also timed where would be the train coming in the fastest. I rode the trains a long time to sort out things but I never tried jumping.

I hope that this is making sense. I know these are just thoughts that are just coming off the top of my head. But isn’t that how all writers write?