Category: suicide

NYT Article

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

Today, at this time, my article http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2015/09/08/love-hate-and-suicide/?_r=0
Was published a year ago, in the New York Times. It was a very proud moment for me. It still fills me with joy whenever I think about it. I wish I had written more stuff like this, but unfortunately, I don’t have control over my writing. Sometimes things come to me and it’s a hit. Sometimes it sucks but I write and publish it on my blog anyway because maybe someone can relate to it.

nyt_lovehatesuicide

In the picture, that is where it all started. On a notepad. I think I do most of my best writing when I handwrite. I just wrote something today and it was a little short of 850 words. I don’t know if it will ever be a prize like this New York Times article but it will be going in my book. I won’t be sharing it on my blog because there are somethings that I don’t want published. I have published so much of the book on my blog that it’s getting hard to write “original” stuff. Of course, I then edit the blogs so that they are formatted and not gibberish for the book. I am getting close to completing the book. I might be done by the end of this month if I really work on it.

Goofy Therapist

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

Goofy therapist

Today’s therapy session was the goofiest I have had in a long time. I started off by calling her goofy and that was it. She was in hysterics for whatever reason. I told her about the dream I had last night where I could “fly” down stairs and while walking. In the same dream, I was getting away from someone as things had gone bad where I was, hence the reason for my flying. I went to a Starbucks that apparently I frequented so much that they wanted to name a drink after me. I woke up before I learned the name of the drink. I had just gone in there with the intention of getting a chili mocha, which I did have today. It was ok except they must have used non-fat milk which I don’t like. It tasted like a water mocha. Gross.

She was telling me how the sauce that I gave her was now gone and we were talking about food for a while in the midst of her trying to analyze this dream. I guess in the entry I wrote about how I was going to make ham and cheddar biscuits and she said that she needs to eat before we talk because I was making her hungry. Goofball, I am telling you. I didn’t tell her what I had for breakfast because I didn’t want her to drool anymore than she already was.

Also in the session with my therapist, once I was able to get her away from my dream analysis, she kind of understood now why my moods change so rapidly when I am in pain. I had started off with a day letter and then I wrote again around 11 pm (2305 to be precise). I wrote how bad the pain was and how much I wanted to end my life. We briefly talked about how much I wanted to end my life but she didn’t want me to, obviously. I kind of got upset at this, but I didn’t let on about it. There was no point because I would be talking to a wall. She gets why I want to kill myself and can see how my mood can change to radically, but she doesn’t want me to end my life over it. Typical. I wanted to tell her that I already had plans to but I just couldn’t. I really want to see the Frida Kahlo exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts first.

After session, I returned my mother’s phone call. She always calls me during session. EVERY SINGLE TIME. Then she gets mad at me because god forbid I should have someone on the other line. She wanted to know if I was going out and I did tell her I planned to. She has been asking me every single day when am I going to the Square because the Family Dollar Store has soap on sale. I went today and there was no such sale. I bought two packages but didn’t tell my mother I paid the regular price. It was only 0.75 cents more.

While at Starbucks, I got two mochas, my chili mocha and a regular iced mocha. I got two in case I didn’t like the chili one. I didn’t like it so I am glad I had the other one to drink. I typed up my story from the other night. I couldn’t believe it was 21 words short of being 850 words! I was really mad at myself because I kind of left off at a cliffhanger. I couldn’t believe I left off at such an ending. I had wanted to write more but it was nearly 330 in the fucking morning so I went to sleep. I didn’t know I left off with such a dramatic stopping of words. I hate writing at night for this reason because once I lose my train of thought, it’s hard to get back into it. I did that with the “Roots” story I wrote. I had started that at the wee hours of the morning, too. So while I was thinking, I texted my therapist and read Twitter. I didn’t turn on the WiFi at Starbucks because it would be too much of a distraction to me. I could put my phone down, but wouldn’t be able to get off the browsers on my laptop. Then I knew I would get lazy and wouldn’t write anymore. After I bitched about being short on words, I went back to my document and wrote about 100 words. Final word count was 961. It’s still not finished yet so I am sure it will be around 1200 or more by the time I done with it. Using the font Comic Sans, I was able to get 2 and half pages of work done. Not bad. It kind of goes along with my other stories in the book so I hope it flows well.

With these 3 pages or so, I think that will bring my page count up to maybe 118 pages. I really want the book to have 200 pages, at least. This doesn’t include any introduction or preface or any other miscellaneous writing. I haven’t sorted out what that will look like yet, or if I really want to have that. In the memoir that I read last week, it had a page that stated this was a book based on her memories and experiences. I might follow that logic in my writing as I didn’t really take these writings from anywhere but my experiences. It’s sort of like a second memoir book that is just stories about my psychotic experiences and delusional thinking. It seems every psychotic/delusional episode I have is different and wild. Sometimes I write about them in my blog when they are over with. Unfortunately, the current delusion hasn’t passed entirely yet.

While I was taking out my laptop to return to my room, I came across a manila envelope that has my father’s health care proxy paperwork in it. I don’t think I need to be carrying that around anymore. Now it’s in my “office” on my bed. I don’t know what to do with it.

I need to get up early tomorrow to see my Neurologist. I need to take a shower tonight because I doubt there will be time in the morning as I am not a morning person. I basically won’t be watching the Sox game tonight as it’s on late. Game is on the west coast. Tomorrow also marks the anniversary of when I published for the New York Times. I just hope I wake up early enough to make coffee because I won’t be going to the Square until maybe the afternoon, after my appointment.

How Darkness Seeps In

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

I didn’t go to sleep till around 3 am. I had the itch to write but all that I wrote was “it’s late”. The rest of what I wrote was boring and I am going to toss it. I really wanted to write about the psychosis getting out of hand and switching antipsychotics but all I did was outline my thoughts. I guess it’s a start.

Around this time last year, I was signing and faxing papers for the New York Times as I wrote an article they would be publishing. It was exciting as I never dreamed of writing for the Times. It was an extremely high ego boost. But it didn’t last long as I crashed into a deep depression afterwards that stuck around and is still lurking around. I guess I have been depressed for almost a year now, my longest episode. The psychosis didn’t really affect me until November of last year. That was when the abilify stopped working for me and I just thought things were still going okay.

It wasn’t until my back went out and I got scared I would have to have surgery again that my depression really worsened, causing the psychosis to also worsen. Add in the stress of my father’s ill health and it was a perfect recipe for disaster. I started having the physical symptoms of depression and lost some weight because I wasn’t eating. It’s easy to reflect on this as time has passed but it wasn’t easy while I was going through it. The psychosis really got worse after the Orlando shooting. That is when I stopped taking the abilify because the voices told me to. I was under their command. I just thank my lucky stars that I didn’t call the FBI like I wanted to because I was so delusional. I wanted to let the FBI know that they should look for a parasite in the brain of the deceased gunman because that what was causing him to act the way he did. I truly believed there was aliens planted parasites in ISIS followers that was making them evil and do bad things. I still believe this.

The voices wanted me to take more medication than was necessary for a few weeks. It wasn’t until the paranoia got out of control that I decided to go to trilafon to help with all the craziness that was going on in my head. My therapist was fearful I was going to lose it or take my life. I also started emailing crazy stuff to my psychiatrist which she had to stop because it was not the run of the mill stuff I normally sent her. If I had to “talk” to her, I had to page her. I couldn’t understand but now I sort of do. What I was writing was a little concerning. But it was my new “normal”. It wasn’t until I was at an adequate dose of trilafon that I realized just how crazy I had been.

All throughout this psychotic phase I was going through, I didn’t think it was bad. I still don’t. I had become more distant from my feelings and empty. It was like I felt nothing. I was hollow. These feelings didn’t last long. They were then covered up with depressive feelings and sometimes suicidal stuff.

My chronic pain reached its breaking point. I had my last flare up and I was going to make sure that it was going to be my last. It hasn’t happened yet, but it will. I am tired of living from flare up to flare up and having little to no relief for days. The only way I can get relief is by taking pain medication around the clock, and sometimes I have to take the strong pain meds to break the cycle. I am hindered in my activities and it sucks. Even walking around my own house is troublesome during these flare ups. I can’t make myself something to eat, showering is next to impossible, even brushing my teeth is a chore.

Dealing with mental illness and chronic pain is very difficult. It requires a balance. I am grateful I am not working because I think I would be dead by now. The emotional toll it takes to work, I just don’t have anymore. It was difficult in the beginning to get used to all the free time in the world that I had. Going to Starbucks provided some routine for me but on days when the depression was bad or my pain levels were out of control, even that routine was soon broken. Now I go whenever I can just to get out of the house for an hour or so. It’s rare that I will be out for more than two hours. My anxiety and paranoia get too much and I have to return home.

I spend the majority of my time in my room. I write, read, and follow Twitter and Facebook all from the comfort of my bed. I have to keep my left ankle elevated to keep it happy. It’s not like it won’t flare up because it can and will. I still haven’t figured out what makes it happy and what makes it really angry. I thought walking and standing aggravate it but I can have hours where I am on the bed and the slightest movement can hurt me. It’s so aggravating and frustrating because what causes it to hurt today, won’t cause it to hurt tomorrow. It is very depressing, which only intensifies my suicidal tendencies.

Knockout

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

Knockout

I went to Harvard Square today with the hopes of meeting my Twitter buddy. I did a lot of walking for an hour but it was worth it. I must have spent at least a half hour walking around the bookstore, just looking at books. I came across one called “Knockout: Mental in Massachusetts”. Its author is B.C. Scott and it is just as anonymous as the author wanted it. It was a fantastic little book, just under 120 pages. It was written in the style that my second book is, roughly 850 words or so per chapter. It was a quick read and I loved it. The person has an eating disorder, bipolar I, BPD, and PTSD. Her life was interesting as she was untreated for her manic episodes for most of her life. She was rarely down and when she was down, thoughts of suicide went through her mind. She thought of it and if she attempted, she doesn’t say. I know a lot of Bipolar I’s that think of killing themselves but never attempt. I hope she is one of those.

I didn’t get to meet my Twitter buddy because he had to see a patient at the hour he was free. He felt bad but I understand. I am literally two stops away from him so I am sure I will see him in the future. Plus, I love the bookstore that is a little ways from his office. That is where I found Knockout in the psychology section. It wasn’t supposed to be there but I guess fate had it there for me. I wasn’t going to buy it at first. There was no price tag on it or even a UPC code as it was made “on demand by Paige”. It’s their version of Amazon on demand books, self publishing. It cost $20 so I know I am going to sell my second book for $25 as it will be close to 200 pages. I love how the author writes about writing in her book and where she goes to do her writing. She doesn’t sound that much different than me, except she has the support of her family with her illness behind her, mostly her parents. That is something that I will never have, but I have learned to live without.

On the way home, it started to rain. I was going to stop in Starbucks for a coffee and something to eat but my leg started hurting and there was a long line. I couldn’t bear it so I left. I wait for the bus in my Square but it never came and I was really hungry. I just had a bagel at like 10 and then a pumpkin scone at Starbucks while I was waiting for time to go by to go to Harvard. I hardly ate anything and my stomach was getting angry with me. I really wanted steak tips but the line at the restaurant I went to was again long because it was dinner hour. So I went to Chipotle for a steak burrito. It was very good, even though I got sour cream and guacamole on my face while eating it. My sister sent me pics of quiche so when I went home (an hour later because the bus was late), I had some of that.

I emailed my psychiatrist early this morning because I didn’t have my trilafon. I now know it isn’t her fault so I told her stupid Epic was the reason and could she please call it in. I provided the pharmacy’s number and within an hour, my script was ready. I picked it up on the way home. My allergies were bad so I also got some Benadryl. It’s make me drowsy as I type this because it’s the gel cap kind. I only took 25 mg because I knew it would make me sleepy. The other Benadryl that I have is expired so I am not sure it has been doing anything. It has helped me sleep but nothing for my allergies.

I had therapy this morning. We talked a lot about the concerned asshole. She is the one that gave me the idea of writing the letter to this jerk off. She doesn’t want me to give up my blog either. I was talking to another blog reader who went through the same experience I went through. She doesn’t want me to give up my blog because of this asshole. I am sure the jerk is probably saying “better to be angry at me than be dead”. FUCCK YOU I say. You only prolonged my death. There will be other episodes, except you aren’t going to know about them. It just won’t be this weekend, you fucker.

I bought a new album today to help my mood. It’s called “Fighter” by David Nail and this guy is unreal. I love his songs and one of them is a Lady Antebellum song on their 747 album, I think. He sings it so good. I love Lady A and I wish they would stop giving away their songs to other artists. It wracks my brain because I am singing the song with Lady A but it’s not Lady A so it’s driving me nuts!! Like Martina McBride has their song “It Ain’t Pretty”. Every time I hear it, I am wondering when Hilary Scott is going to come in (Lady A’s singer). I still can’t decide who sings it better. I love Martina McBride but her vocals just sounds strange after you hear Hilary Scott’s voice.

I want to thank my readers for being there (except the one that called the cops, you can go to hell). Your support makes this blog worthwhile and doesn’t feel like I am wasting my time with it.