Category: suicide

The things I find out through my blog and other thoughts

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

The things I find out through my blog and other thoughts

I know the internet has free content, for the most part. Any one can take anything from it. Pictures, articles, blogs, and the like. Today I found out that my New York Times article was republished through a suicide prevention network. http://tspn.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/CYHM-17.pdf. I am no longer anonymous in my writing like I thought I was. I wrote to the network to tell them although I am flattered by being on their cover of this issue, I am also dismayed they did so without my knowledge, consent, or permission. I mean, they could have sent me a tweet or tried to contact me through my blog or something. I shouldn’t have had to find out through my own blog that this was published. It just pisses me off.

I am feeling better after I had my nap but now I can’t sleep because I napped. My stomach is still kind of queasy. I was kind of looking for a snack so I had three Oreos thins. I wanted more but didn’t want to push my luck. I feel ok but I am still kind of hungry. I am not going to eat because I don’t know what will happen. I didn’t take my night time dose of Zoloft because I want to see how I fair. If I don’t get sick after I eat an evening meal, then I know it’s the Zoloft making me sick again. I am going to take it easy tomorrow and try not to eat so much at once, even though I really didn’t. I just had a sub and some fries. I shouldn’t have eaten it because I wasn’t hungry to begin with. But I hadn’t eaten anything since 0900 so I had to eat something. I am going to eat the same things I had today tomorrow and see if I get sick. If I don’t, then I know it’s the Zoloft. If I do, then I know it’s what I am eating.

I got my pens today. For some reason, I was very excited about receiving them. I guess I am happy that I have them because one of my pens ran out of ink the other night. I had to replace the ink with the pen I just bought because I didn’t have refills. I plan on buying them on my next Amazon order. I should be banned from ordering on Amazon. You can get pretty much anything and everything. I just got like 6 items and it’s almost 100 bucks. Granted one of the items is a $50 book, but still. I can really go to town when I am on the website and I am bored. I usually save the items for later. I hope that my food processor and new watch isn’t caught in the storms that are affecting the Midwest. I am supposed to get them on Monday and I hope that I do.

Mohammad Ali passed away tonight. Seems 2016 is taking a lot of good people. I am glad that my father, though he wasn’t the best of people, is not alone. I never wrote up the story. Maybe I will after I finish this blog. I am wide awake anyways. It will give me something to do. I just hope that it doesn’t cause me to have PTSD symptoms.

Purpose

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

Purpose

Everyone needs a purpose in life. It is what drives us. But sometimes when we are very depressed and feeling worthless, our purpose might not be so clear cut. We often think while depressed, that people will be better off without us, that we don’t matter. This may lead us to become suicidal. And then our true purpose is lost to us. All we think about is death because we have no purpose to go on living. It’s especially precarious after we lost the ones we love due to illness, divorce or if we lost our job. What does it mean to go on after so much loss?

In therapy, therapists often try to give us a life worth living. But what does that mean if we have no purpose for being? It often hurts too much to go on living. Sometimes there are protective factors that keep us here, like family, friends, or children we love and wouldn’t want to hurt with our death. It’s difficult to balance this when you feel so damn low and want to end the pain so badly. It tears at you night and day to go on living in this pain.

My sense of purpose is construed. Others can see that I have one but most times, I don’t see it in myself. It’s hard going on without something to keep me going. I often wonder why I am here. I should be dead three times over, yet I still exist. I am tired of just existing. There is so much I want to do yet I am hindered due to my disabilities. I am often frustrated and suicidal, not a good combo. My depressions are severe and debilitating. My chronic physical pain is as well. I can’t work anymore. I don’t have any friends that are close by that I talk to on a regular basis. I have my online friends, without whom, I think I would feel totally alone, trapped in my room. My therapist and psychiatrist think I am a writer. But since my father’s illness and subsequent death, I have not written much. I had this blog to keep me going, as a challenge to myself to write something every day. Sometimes, I would write two to three times a day. But it’s hard work. Some days it is easier to write than others.

My blog gives me a purpose you can say. I write and get feedback. Most times I don’t but I know the readership is there because I am a stats freak. I watch my numbers go up every day. Sometimes it’s the same blog that gets read several times, and that is ok. My purpose has been fulfilled if it helps someone to understand what it is like living with chronic depression, suicidality, and physical pain.

TG Issues 7: Name Change

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

TG Issues 7: Name Change

I have been struggling with my identity for the past two months because I had to play “daughter” while my father was sick and dying. Now that he is gone, I am still struggling because I keep receiving mail addressed to my birth name as well as on Facebook. Despite me kindly telling my close friends that I no longer want to be called my birth name, people forget and so call me what they always call me. They don’t know that it is hurtful. Even today while I was at my psychiatrist’s office it was apparent she didn’t know what to call me. She thought I was still changing my name to Alex when I made the decision to be called GC or G two years ago. I have never signed an email to her with that name so I am not sure where she got it from. I did go by Alex for a while when I was playing around with names. In my memoir, I think I said my name is Mike. I thought about Mike for a long time because it’s something that I always liked to be called. But I am so used to people calling me G that I think Mike would be a bigger transition. I do go by Mike on this blog. I might use it as my middle name as I don’t have one.

A fellow blogger wrote about her identity issues and that got me thinking of my own. For some reason, today my breasts feel so heavy and disproportionate to my body it’s not funny. They just seem bigger than they normally are and it’s driving me crazy because I just want them removed. And that is where the self-loathing comes in. I hate who I am. I hate having to play a female and now that my father is gone, I know I don’t have to but yet I still do because I haven’t made steps to be a male. I am kind of scared of going that step. I know that if I don’t, I will just kill myself, eventually. It’s bad enough that I am dying every day pretending to be someone I am not. I am not an uncle to my kids or a brother to my sisters. I am not even a son to my mother. Course she doesn’t know and I don’t think I am going to tell her. I have thought about it a thousand times but she thinks one way and I know she will think that someone is “influencing” me to be male. Just like they were influencing me to be homosexual. I love women. I have no idea how I am to have a relationship with one once I transition but hopefully it will work out. And if it doesn’t, I am fine being single.

I just feel really out of sorts right now. While I was in the hospital, there was confusion over my sex because one institution had me as a female and the psych hospital had me as a male since my last admission. It was so stupid and then the admitting psychiatrist asked me if I could be a female just for one night. Why not, I have been acting it all my life. Just shrink my heart a little more than it already is shrunk. Eventually I will have nothing left and hopefully I will die a heartless human being that is a female. It kills me to play a female part because I am not “out”. Like tomorrow when I am out with friends and with my friend’s kids. I will be called “aunty” because that is what I have always been called. I will be called my birth name because that is what is what they know by. It’s like I have to hide myself every time I am with someone that doesn’t know I am a male.

I am really confused by my identity issues. I know I am a male. I feel male in every aspect of my life. I wear male clothing year round except for that time of year when I have break through bleeding due to my biological cycle. I no longer have control over that but it doesn’t make me pure suicidal when it happens like it used to. I know that I have to have menses at least once a year or there will be problems. I just wish the problem, the uterus, can be taken out as it’s useless to me. I hear there are now transplants of uteruses. They can take mine for free if they want it that bad. It’s hasn’t been used at all for female things so I am sure it is viable! And if it’s not, just toss it in the pathological fireplace. I do not need it. I never wanted kids and still do not want kids. Men do not have kids.

Then I think this is all in my head and that I need conversion therapy or something but my therapist always reassures me that what I feel is what I feel. She gets me and calls me a guy, her buddy. We don’t hang out or anything (that would be too weird and awkward), but she accepts me. I just have a hard time accepting me sometimes. I hate myself because I am not who my mind thinks I am. And it hurts something awful. It hurts so much that I want to kill myself at times. I never put two and two together until I realized my menses were a huge part of the suicidal urges. Yea, PMDD had nothing on my suicidality. I had come so close to killing myself just before I would start bleeding it’s really a miracle I am still alive. The intensity of being suicidal was immense. And it was because I felt and feel like a man yet I was bleeding like a woman. How fucking confusing is that? Even when I got my menses so many years ago, I felt hatred because everyone was calling me a woman and I was like I am still a boy. It hurt so much and I am not talking about the physical aspects of the menstrual cycle. I wanted to die since I was eight years old. By the time I got my menses, that intensity increase triple fold. I so wanted a penis like my friend Tony. He is the male friend that I grew up with. I had hid myself and played the part of female for so long. Now it’s time to be a male and I am not sure how to come out. I am disgusted with myself. I hate my breasts. I hate myself period. I hate that I have to take meds to stop my menses but if I don’t it just kills me or will kill me.

The first thing that I am going to do is change my name. after that, I think I will be more comfortable going to the LGBT center to get testosterone treatments to become a male. I need to or I might as well join my father in hell or where ever you go when you die.

done nothing I wanted to do

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

Done nothing I wanted to do

After I wrote my previous blog, I played with my bibliography program, entering the book that I was going to start reading as well as exporting the citation of the article that I want to get when I become a member of AAS again. I let my membership lapse because it was and is expensive. I mostly was a member so I could get the journal and still be somewhat connected with the field. After I entered all this information, it kind of made me tired. Data entry is not my strong point. I know people that love inputting stuff in worksheets but it has never been my thing. I should have taken a nap but I wasn’t really tired like I am now. Then I tried reading the chapter I wanted to read and I couldn’t even open the book. My mind kept on fixating on other things. I also could not get into a reading mood, which didn’t help.

Then I thought of typing up the stuff I wrote while in the hospital just to get it out of the way. I became paralyzed. I just couldn’t get off my bed to get to my backpack to retrieve the notepad. I didn’t want to read what I wrote. I didn’t want the “movie” to start over again. So I did nothing. I watched a couple of Friends episodes. They weren’t really funny but I laughed at some parts.

I have been fighting cramps in my side the past few hours. I took an Ativan and you would think that would cause me to nap and settle down, but nope. It took care of the cramps but nothing else. I did start to get tired around 1800 but that is my normal sleepy period. Every day I fight the tireds at that particular hour. I don’t know why. But I know that if I fall asleep, I am up all night. So I fight it at least until I take my night meds. Then I can go to bed. I think I am going to take my night meds early tonight because I feel like a piece of shit. I have done nothing, nothing at all, and it is bothering me. It is making me feel suicidal that is how bad I feel. I texted my therapist. I didn’t get a response back. I really wasn’t expecting one back. I wish she would acknowledge some of my texts so I know that she read them. But nope. I don’t have that kind of text relationship with her.

I also have been so lazy, I haven’t looked for the grief counselor’s card. I found my father’s GI doc’s card. I tossed that out. I won’t be needing her services again. I think I still have the note that the lab my father had his blood drawn in on my bureau. I have been meaning to toss it but I haven’t for whatever reason.

I bought a bunch of Ensure before I went into the hospital. Now that I have my appetite back, I am wondering if I should return them. I kind of don’t because they will be handy when I want to have something to “eat” but don’t feel like making myself something. Or on days when I don’t eat as much. Only time will tell if my appetite is here to stay or not. I could go on a liquid diet for a while to lose some more weight but that will be tricky. I would have to do math and I really am not up to it. I know if I drink at least 4 bottles, that is around 1400 calories, which is ideal for weight loss. I would just have to spread them out so I am not starving myself. I will run this idea by my psychiatrist and see what she thinks. She probably will not like it much but I really want to lose another fifteen pounds. I am so close to my target.

I am going to try the lidocaine cream on my Achilles lump just to see if it helps with the pain. It’s supposed to be odorless so I hope it doesn’t smell. My left ankle/foot is bothering me so I will be taking pain meds for it. I wish it helped with the lump pain but it doesn’t. I am guessing it’s because the pain is so acute and severe it just won’t touch it. Hopefully the lidocaine will.