a lot has happened this week

A lot has happened this week. Tues I had therapy. I thought all that day that it was Monday, even though I knew I didn’t have an appointment that day. Because I didn’t have much of a voice, I had written out what had transpired since the last time I saw her. After she finished reading it, she wondered why she didn’t get notified that I was in the emergency room. I thought that was weird and said so. She said some providers get notified. Ok. Don’t know why a psychotherapist would get notified about an allergic reaction, but what do I know.

I didn’t talk for most of the session as she would ask a question and then I would either shake my head or nod. That only worked for so long. By the end of session, my throat hurt and I don’t think I could speak. We had talked about my being suicidal and she kept on asking me if I was safe. I didn’t know where she was going with this. I have no idea if she was using the “no harm” contract or what. I could have gone in so many directions with this but 1) I had no voice and 2) I am so damn tired of teaching or maybe informing is a better word, a therapist about how to deal a chronic suicidal person. I am still thinking of bringing in the suicide safety plan by Stanley and Brown but I am just not ready to do so, only because in my intense moments, I doubt I will do the stuff that I had agreed to do. I was supposed to call my psych and I don’t remember if I did or not. I know I emailed her and that is all I remember.

Wednesday I had groceries delivered. I put most of them away and then decided to get my haircut as I had to go to the bank for my mother. My barber said he would be unavailable between 2-3 so I went to Starbucks and just wrote in my journal. I don’t think I had anything caffeinated because I had coffee while waiting for my groceries. I might have ordered a tea and that was it. I got my haircut and hour later and then went home. I was tired and my ankle was hurting but then when isn’t it hurting?

Thursday I had an appointment with the new psychopharm. I was really nervous about it. Before the appointment I was almost in tears as I didn’t want to see this guy. I just wanted my psych and the realization that she was gone was causing intense grief. I had emailed my psych so we had a convo a little before the doc got me. I felt a little reassure she was okay with this and that she knew that she would always be my psychiatrist, no matter what. I went to the guy’s office and could only speak a little above a whisper. Some days I feel like my voice is better and other days I can hardly talk. That day was one where I could hardly talk. The doc wanted my psych history and what had lead me to see mental health services. He didn’t have me elaborate on why I was hoarse, why I was disabled, why I was wearing an AFO, nor did he inquire about my past medical history. I gave short answers as I was in a bad mood for most of the day and wasn’t very talkative. I told him I had Bopolar 2 and he gave me a skeptical look as my record said I had bipolar 1 (I have never experienced true mania before in my life). The appointment was supposed to be an hour long. It lasted like twenty minutes, tops. My throat was sore so I knew I wouldn’t be talking to my psych that day.

I felt like the whole conversation could have been done via email or something. He said he was just for meds and all he wanted to do was increase my antipsychotic, even though I told him my psych didn’t want to for fear of side effects. I must have told him no at least three times that I didn’t want an increase. Then he said he will see me in a month and if I needed refills before then or wanted to get in touch with him to do so via the patient web thing. That was it. That was the appointment. I was in a worse mood when I left.

Thursday I had left early because I couldn’t stay still after I woke up. I got to the “new” bus stop and waited. The bus just blew right by me. There were no fricken signs indicating it was a bus stop and the previous bus stop had no signs either. I had to walk uphill to the only stop that I knew had signs, which was a good 300 feet beyond where I was uphill. My legs were killing me from the walking. When I came home from the disaster of an appointment, my ankle flared up. It had been a 7 most of the day (never good when I wake up with a 7) and it immediately went up to a 12 when I was resting. Things just got worse from there. I must have sent three or four emails to my psych over the course of the evening/night. I was extremely suicidal and the sketchy plan I had in my head became more detail and specific. I had picked out a day and dammit I was going to go through with it. I didn’t go to sleep till maybe 3 or 4 am. I wanted to write a blog but just posting the word “suicidal” on facebook triggered a report. Whether someone did or some fricken algorithm, I am not sure. It happened pretty quick so I am thinking it was their stupid algorithm that sent me the “being reported” bullshit. I had become even more despondent over this. I felt shutdown even though I was ready to fucking explode. I couldn’t get my thoughts together to even write in my journal, where I knew it was safe.

I slept till around 2 yesterday and thought all day that it was Saturday. I wasn’t feeling so suicidal but the thoughts of the night before still were shocking to me. I still had the plan in my head. All day yesterday I was overwhelmed with my thoughts and by 4 or 5 I was totally consumed by them. I took an Ativan to try and calm down as my anxiety was so high. I also sent my psych an email asking her to call me whenever she got the chance. I was free the rest of the evening so it didn’t matter what time she called. She called me around 2 hours after the email. I asked her you could become insane by the intensity of being suicidal and she laughed. She said that wasn’t the definition of insanity. I felt reassured. She said she is trying to reach out to the new psychopharm but he hasn’t responded to any of her messages. I am not surprised as he seemed like an asshole. She also wants me to let her know how the laryngology appointment goes. I said I would. She said I should write but I couldn’t last night. I felt like if I spoke my mind, the police would be at my door the next day. I just wrote in a notebook and my journal. She asked what I was doing this weekend and I said I didn’t have plans. I still needed to do stuff around my room. She said to keep in touch. I said I would.

I had gone to the pharmacy yesterday to pick up my meds. My right leg felt so weak. Actually, both legs felt weak. I knew it was because of Thursday’s activities. I wanted to do stuff around my room but I knew if I tried, I would hurt so I didn’t. I didn’t even want to shower though I needed one. I just couldn’t chance another flare. It would have sent me more over the edge than I already was. I just read. A friend texted me so we chatted for a bit until he had to go out with his family for dinner. I was glad we talked for a bit. I tried texting to another friend but she said her phone was dying and would talk later. Yea, 3 am later. JFC seriously? I don’t get why people don’t know their battery is dying when you are talking with someone. Why even bother answering when another time would have been fine. I don’t get it. But texting at 3 am, unless it is an emergency, is not ok. Yes, sometimes I am so it doesn’t matter but usually at that time, I am trying to wind down not have a conversation for an hour or two.

I haven’t done much today but I did finally shave and shower. I didn’t take a chunk of my face off while shaving either so that was good. I haven’t really eaten much but then I am not that hungry. I had bought some buffalo wings with my grocery order and forgot they were in the fridge. I found them while looking for my coffee. Our fridge is full so I basically just put my coffee where ever there was room. I realized today that one of the bottles of coffee I ordered didn’t come. It is too late now to call and say it didn’t. I am bummed about this, but not really. I need to get ice cream so I might get it tomorrow if my nephew isn’t working. I will get that particular coffee then.

frustrated on so many levels

Frustrated on so many levels

I saw the therapist today. I was really nervous about it because I didn’t have a voice. First part was of her reading all that transpired since I last saw her, which was last Monday. In there, I had mentioned I was suicidal and she asked if I was safe. I hate that fucking word when it comes with being suicidal. I never know if I am truly safe. If it was put in the how likely am I going to act or something, the answer might be a little different. Each time I get the urges, the situation is different so I have different levels of coping with it. It might be some grounding, music, distraction, going through social media and getting support there, or just maybe sitting with whatever I am feeling to get through the moment. I have recently just stared at a wall while letting the feelings hit me, one after the other and I try not to think in those moments, which is hard to do. Some times I can write but lately I seemed to have lost my words (mostly due to being reported on my feelings) that I cannot express myself, not even in my journal. The words are there, I just can’t seem to put them in cohesive sentences. This is the MOST frustrating thing because writing used to be my escape and because of vigilantes, my escape has been hindered.

I left aggravated and angry. I was looking for her to offer something to appease the suicidologist in me but nothing was forthcoming. I don’t know if she was looking for me to have some sort of plan (I have many, some good and some not so good) or what. Her biggest thing was for me to be “safe” whatever that meant. While I was home reflecting on this, I basically realized I have four choices: 1) go to ED of some sort; 2) call my psych, no matter what hour as I most likely will be in real danger at this point; 3) stew with the feelings as mentioned above; 4) act on my feelings/thoughts/urges. I have a straight forward plan so as long as I can walk (presuming physical pain isn’t the driver of the suicidal escape), the plan can be executed with no one much the wiser.

The ONE thing no one understands about suicidality is the need to escape from the pain (physical and mental or either/or in my case). It is also true that if I have an angry row with a family member that has me feeling unworthy, useless, lazy, etc., my thoughts of escape increase because I feelings of being trapped are heighted and I will think of suicide as my only choice in the matter. I honestly have no way of conveying this and having a “treatment” for it. Yes, I can bring up CAMS (my preferred way of dealing with my suicidal feelings) but my therapist doesn’t even know what the fuck it is, and from the sound of it, is not up to the latest suicide prevention stuff. Honestly, I don’t know who is as there is a LOT of information out there.

The therapist also wondering if being that the institution I was at was good for me as I have so much anger at it right now as it got rid of my psych. I think part of this is mostly likely the grief of her not being there and right now I am in the anger stage of that grief. The frustrating fucking thing right now is that because of my voice being fucked up, crying hurts so I am unable to process it with a good cry. Even as I am typing this and letting some tears out my throat is starting to hurt in a big way. I think once I have this cry, I can possibly moved on. My psych is still there for me; she hasn’t left. I just haven’t been able to see her as she doesn’t have a new home yet. I am still her patient because she has said so and I believe her. If anything, I think she fears me leaving her more than I fear her leaving me. If that makes sense.

I am utterly exhausted right now, mentally and physically. My throat is fatigues and hurts from the twenty minutes or so that I spent talking to the therapist. I honestly don’t want to talk to anyone, unless it is in written form, for the rest of the day. The only thing I have eaten today is a donut and a coffee cake. That seems to be the only thing I want today. I may have the last breakfast burrito (if there is one) that is in the freezer later but chances of that happening are low. I might have to make some more tomorrow after my groceries are delivered. It is nice to have some pre-made food that I like that I can zap in the microwave for a few minutes and have a meal.

I don’t have any plans for tonight. I might read Harry Potter or just be on social media. I would like a nap but that has yet to happen. I just seem to lay down and my pain decides to act up. My foot is already acting up with the ceiling fan going. Airwaves are annoying it. I really shouldn’t have listened to the meditation thing the therapist had me listen to. It started off by thinking of the feet and how they feel and such. Both feet were killing me so it was hard to “let go” of the feelings and shit. Then that was the only thing I could focus on. When they moved up to the abdomen I started feeling hypervigilant of someone barging through the door and had to stop it. At least we tried it. I knew it wasn’t going to work as I have done similar shit while inpatient and it is always a trigger for me.

I had written in the notes I wrote for the therapist to update her that I was thinking of getting ginger gummies and just sitting somewhere to eat them. By the time I came home, the plan was set. I figured out the location and all the how, what, when, where, and why. I have the four choices listed above on which one to choose when those urges arise. I will be left to my own devices and the choice really is mine to make. No one can stop me, no one needs to know, and no one will be there when the decision will be made. I am on a precipice. Question is, do I have a hand (figuratively) to hold me back…

I’ve decided that I won’t tell anyone about my suicidal thoughts. Might mention them here but just the thoughts. No one seems to want to hear them anyway.

can’t cope

Can’t cope

I am really struggling right now. It’s 0400 and I still have not slept. I am going on 4 hours sleep after being up for 24 hours. I am hearing voices and there are four of them instead of 1 that I usually hear. There were three last night and now there are four and I feel like I am being ganged up on. I have sent emails to my psych but I don’t think she checks her email on Sundays. I told her I took an extra Invega to try and calm them down. It seems to have worked as right now I am just hearing my regular voice. She is the nice one and doesn’t tell me to kill myself or take a bottle of pills for the fun of it.

I was reading an email my psych had sent to me on Friday after I told her I couldn’t cope with everything. We talked yesterday. I often had to repeat what I said because she couldn’t hear and then my voice would be a little bit better and then go back to a whisper. I sent a text message to the therapist telling her I cannot speak. I told her it was not illness related and I would bring a notepad to communicate. If this was a problem, I told her to let me know or call me. I don’t want to skip another session. I feel like I need to talk to her. It is just that my voice keeps going in and out on me and I can only speak for so long before I get tired and cannot speak at all. Going for 45-50 minutes is going to be a test. Then I have a 60 minute appointment with the psychopharm. That is going to be fun, not! I think I am going to try and write things down on index cards so I can use my voice less. Fuck this sucks!

Tomorrow I need to get a hold of a human in the laryngologist department. I had left a message and I think that I am going to leave a message on the last two numbers to try and make a damn appointment. I don’t care who I see as long as they can give some answers and order speech therapy or whatever they need to do. I really don’t want another camera up my nose but if that has to happen so be it. I have no idea if the ED did record the showing of my throat. The PA had her camera video recording it. They didn’t tell me if this was going to be uploaded to my record or not.

I am so tired and want to sleep. My head just keeps buzzing. I think the extra meds have sort of made the voices quieter but they are still there. I know they have popped up because of all the stress I am under with my health issues. I just want to fucking cry and my throat won’t let me. I feel really shitty and downhearted. I just can’t cope with it. My ankle has been a fuck all day. I haven’t really taken anything for it because I don’t know what to do with it. How do you deal with the feelings like your foot is ready to fold on you. It feels like it is some kind of card or paper ready to be folded in half. And it hurts so much. It stresses me out.

I have decided to try and keep a notepad on me so I can talk with my mother when I go downstairs. In one of the boxes that has my stuff in it, I found some notepads. I think it will be easier than trying to talk only to repeat myself three times or more.

I am proud of myself today. I finished two books, Harry Potter and OOTP and White Fragility. I have eight books left in my challenge for the year. I have the Harry Potter and half blood prince to read and then Deadly Hollows. I thinking of reading a book my friend gave me. It’s about a water sprite. He said that it is cute. He had given me a book that I can’t think of the name right now but it was really good. I really enjoyed it. It was about a bee. I also started to read Neil Gaiman’s Fragile Things which has the short story “How to talk to girls at parties”. It’s supposed to be good as I think they made a play or something based on that story. I have so many books to choose that I am overwhelmed and don’t know which ones to read. There are quite a few books that came out in the last year and this year that I bought, all hardcover. Alex Spiere just came out with a book on the Red Sox. He is a Red Sox reporter. Jerry Remy also came out with a book. I forget the name. I am not sure I want to get it. I am still thinking about it. There is also a book on Luis Tianti (?sp) that came out. He was a great pitcher for the Sox in the 70s. He is still in the organization. He mumbles when he speaks so I have no idea what he is saying. I also went on a Kindle spending spree and got some books on Lincoln’s speeches and writings.

I got a dentist appointment in about six hours. I am not sure if I am going to be able to go. I had wanted to and then get my haircut or if the barber shop is closed, go to Starbucks and maybe write for a bit. I bought a backpack that can hold my laptop. I just won’t connect to wifi (I hope!) I shaved a couple days ago with a single edge razor and somehow took a chunk of skin off my face. I am glad I have the nix stick as it was bleeding pretty good. I have been putting Neosporin on it to try and make it heal faster. I cannot put a bandage on it as I don’t have one small enough for it. Plus, who wants to put a bandage on their face!

I still have not received my medical records from the children’s hospital where I had the traumatic medical procedure done. Been thinking a lot about the abuse at the hand of the abuser when I was little that continued through my teenage years. I think I am going to write about it and then give it the therapist. I think it probably would be good now as I cannot speak it due to my voice being fucked up. I think I will type it up so she doesn’t have to try and read my scribble.

Feeling frustrated not being able to speak

Feeling frustrated not being able to speak

“Running on empty. There was nothing left but doubt. I picked up my pen and wrote my way out.” Lin-Manuel Miranda

Someone on Twitter had this as their tweet and I had to keep it. It really is fitting as right now, I really need to write how I feel as things are becoming so overwhelming. All week I’ve thought about nothing but suicide. I was sending my psych emails and she would call me out of concern. After one of the calls, I sent her an email explaining how things get for me and I think she understood. I never got a response so I can’t say how she took it.

All week my voice has not been above a whisper. There are a few times where my voice seems to be there but only for a few seconds and then it is gone again. I have been in contact all week with my pcp about this. He was reluctant to prescribe a steroid only for fear of side effects. By Thursday I was not doing any better and I was feeling pretty damn frustrated. My pcp was away so I had to wait 24 hours for a response because no one was covering him apparently. I saw his nurse again and I stressed to him that I wanted to be on steroids to see if they would help. Instead I got a message asking me if I wanted to proceed with being prescribed Friday. I was so fucking pissed off I swore and told the nurse off. I told him that if I wasn’t going to be prescribed anything today (meaning yesterday), I was going to go to an emergency for the throat. He said the message would be part of my medical record and he didn’t like my tone. I didn’t give two fucks. I was aggravated and frustrated that all week I’ve had to rely on email messages to figure out what the fuck to do about my voice. I emailed my psych, who was really worried as she kept harping on it, which forced me to do something about it. I went to the emergency department at another hospital.

I couldn’t talk so I wrote things out that they would need on index cards. I was seen my a physician assistant rather than a doctor. I had to explain what had happened, that an allergic reaction from one week ago caused me to lose my voice. She said that I would need to have a camera put down my throat to see what was going on and she would have to get a doctor to do this. I had to wait some more while she was getting someone. I was more annoyed at this. So this doctor comes in and I have to tell my story, again! He said he would put a camera up my nose to see my vocal cords. Great, another invasive procedure. There was some pain despite the lidocaine as they couldn’t really thread the camera down my nose because of my septum. I don’t know if it was swollen or deviated or what. He might have said but I don’t remember. First he said that things were swollen and I would need steroids. Then he left as he said he wanted a laryngologist to see the video and go from there. He comes back and said that I would need speech therapy as the muscles around my larynx aren’t moving like they should. For Fucks Sake!!! He said just to take an NSAID and make an appointment soon. The PA comes back with the discharge paperwork and some names of some doctors that I can try calling for an appointment over the next few days, which means Monday as it is now the weekend. I am glad I don’t have to be on steroids but I am not happy this isn’t a quick fix. I am to avoid speaking for long periods. I emailed my psych to let her know what was going on.

I came home and was basically crushed. I was overwhelmed that I didn’t kill myself like I wanted to. I was depressed that I had yet another invasive procedure and would probably need another one with a better camera for them to know what was going on. I further did not know how I was to have psychotherapy on Tuesday or see the new psychopharm on Thursday as both require me to speak for at least an hour. All I kept thinking about was just killing myself and now that I know that ginger is lethal for me, I was thinking of getting some gummies or something and that would be that. I emailed my psych telling her I was overwhelmed with everything. She asked if I wanted to talk and I replied you mean whisper. I told her to call me whenever as I had no plans for today.

I told her I wanted to cry but it hurt to have an ugly cry. She said crying would be good. I just can’t seem to be able to do it as my throat hurts so I have to stop. She wants me to follow up and if I can’t get a hold of someone, she will do it for me. Now I know she is really, really worried. She has never heard of this happening. I had sent a message to my urologist last night asking her if the new medicine she has me on can affect other muscles. It is the only thing new and I am not sure this is just a medication issue. She responded that she doesn’t think so but I should ask my pharmacist.

I cannot believe what has transpired in just ten days. I have been trying to write all this since Wed but every time I tried, I would start to cry and my throat would hurt so I would have to stop writing. I couldn’t even talk to some one about it as I have no fucking voice! All I could do was type, which is not the same fucking thing as I found out. Communicating with my mother is the hard part. I need to write down what I need to say to her because otherwise I would have to repeat myself three or four times and that just hurts too much when you have no voice. I had wanted to do some stuff around my room today but my psych said I need to rest as much as possible because of everything. I took a shower and now I am going to try and finish Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. I have four chapters left in the book. Unfortunately, the chapter I am on is when Sirius dies. I hope I don’t cry.