Tag: chronic illness

Reflections of Yesterday’s therapy session

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

Reflections of yesterday’s therapy session

I woke up hangover after all the Neurontin I took last night. I wasn’t surprised as I knew I would be. I needed coffee but I just missed the bus and had to wait an hour for the next one. I goofed off on the laptop and got ready to go out.

The homeless guy I met last week was on the bus. He didn’t appear to acknowledge my presence so I just kept my distance. I got to Starbucks and ordered my espresso with a breakfast sandwich. I had been craving to have their sausage, egg, and cheese. I then played with my phone while I ate before writing in my journal.

I started writing in my journal about yesterday’s session. I’m not sure how our sessions are going to be now that she feels inadequate. The whole thing is making me feel like a jerk. If we do get an “adjunctive” therapist, how will our sessions be? I can’t imagine having two therapists where we talking about the same things in therapy. It’s just going to be draining on me and useless time for me. I don’t understand why she can’t be the “therapist” and work on my fucking issues. She did before. I don’t understand why things have changed. And it’s frustrating me because I have to wait till Tuesday to get these questions answered. Plus the holiday is coming up so I know there is going to be NO ONE to see me until after the holidays, if she is able to find someone.

The whole thing is freaking me out and thinking she doesn’t want to work with me anymore but still wants to be in contact with me no matter what. How is that going to fly? I know in the past while I was seeing a therapist in my hometown we still met with one another. But it was mostly to bitch about how the session went with the other therapist. I don’t want that to be the focus of each session. It will be ridiculous and a waste of my time. As it is, she still wants to know every fucking detail of what goes on with my psych appointments. If she wants to know that badly, maybe she should accompany me to them, for crying out loud. I think that is to waste time on her part so we don’t have to talk about other matters.

I remember a time when before my suicidality clouded everything we did, she used to be able to center me and give me real therapy. We had a good working relationship. And we still had it even though we talked over the phone the majority of the time. Then something happened and she blew of course. Symptoms of my PTSD were listened to but no advice given, same with the anxiety issues that popped up with the pain levels increasing. Seemed that we spent more time talking about my damn pain syndrome than about therapy itself and what would work for me. Each session, we just went with the flow while my suicidality flew out of control. She could barely contain it anymore and I was just going from one death date to another, searching for hope that just wasn’t there anymore. Her love and care for me were enough to save my ass from my self-destructiveness. This is something I have told her time and time again but again it fell on deaf ears. She felt it was enough because she was the therapist and I was the client and that meant we had the unbroken rule that I wasn’t to die by suicide by any means, no matter that my life turned into a whirlwind of pain and despair.

Sometime this year, when I became psychotic after my father’s death, I became disconnected from those around me. I still feel disconnected. It’s not that I don’t know I am loved or cared for. It’s just that I can’t feel these things, only sadness, depression, and misery. The physical pain takes care of the rest. I have tried to feel more connected but I just don’t feel it. It’s hard to empathize and sympathize with those around me. I feel like I am giving people the cold shoulder most of the time and I don’t mean to because that is just not who I am. I have bouts of crying that come out of the blue with no feelings attached to it. It’s strange to feel so much feeling and not know what the fuck they are but tears continue to roll down my face. I know part of it is the grief that I have not felt since my father’s passing. When he died, I shed not one tear for months now. I just am not in touch with my feelings anymore, hence this disconnection I feel.

My therapist thinks it’s because of the psychosis and anti-psychotic med that are causing this to be so. She called it the “negative symptoms of psychosis”. I still have no idea what the hell that means. I could look it up but I really don’t want to know. Funny, I used to know psychotic symptoms like the back of my hand but that was years ago and now I just have forgotten. I haven’t discussed the issue with my psychiatrist because I don’t think it’s worth the time to be discussed. I am not worried about it and frankly don’t care. I rather feel disconnected anyways. It’s safer than having feelings.

Incompetence and needs: A story of transference

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

Incompetence and needs: A story of transference

My therapist read my Thanksgiving Eve blog and was basically horrified to find that she is inadequate for my needs. She wanted me, again, to see another therapist that was local as seeing someone in person on a regular basis might be more helpful to me. I nixed the idea because I don’t want to start over with someone new. She said it would be more as an adjunctive way. I don’t give a fuck, I am not setting out to see a new therapist. Then she brought up the whole CBT therapist idea. Nixed that too.

It got me thinking about what I need from my therapist. Frankly I don’t know. We have been struggling with my suicidality for so long that it just goes on without a resolution. It got me thinking about the CAMS philosophy and frankly, even though my therapist has been collaborative, she really hasn’t been. She acts more like a friend than a therapist at times. It has been driving me crazy since she took up the majority of the session with her guilt talk, whether it was directed towards me or her, I am not sure. She feels like she is failing me. Hence her incompetence.

There is more to solving suicidality than filling out the SSF forms. Again she brought up if she only knew how to get me to “open up” and write the answers she needs on the stupid forms, she will feel better. But that is not how it works. The SSF just provides you with problems that need solving so that you don’t end your life. The therapist and client are to work together to solve these issues so that life becomes more tolerable rather than intolerable, a “life worth living”. I’m never going to reach that stage of treatment because maybe I am too stubborn to give up my suicidality long enough to find a life worth living. I just go about my daily business of drinking coffee, writing this blog, taking care of my family and then dealing with a stupid therapist twice a week that drives me absolutely fucking insane with her idiocy.

Maybe we have been together too long and can’t see the forest for the trees. We are wrapped up in something and our path has gone so far astray that we just can meet anymore eye to eye. Maybe we are too close because my heart was really breaking today while she was droning on and on about seeing another therapist and how she was basically failing me. Yes, she is a pain in the ass. She is an idiot, but who isn’t really? I texted her that tomorrow will be our last session. I seriously doubt she will take me seriously. I don’t even know what no therapy will look like. I don’t want to know but what else can I do? Go on with a therapist that hates me on some level for calling her out?

Usually you bring up stuff and it gets dealt with and then you move on from it somehow, someway. A few years ago, we were at this impasse. The same issues were covered today. They haven’t moved on because they haven’t been dealt with. I know what needs to be done but I am just too much of a chicken shit. And there we have the needs piece again. I could list them and they would have NOTHING to do with the list from Shneidman. But I feel insecure and my therapist, even though she won’t admit it, does too. That was evident today and it was killing me inside. It broke my heart.

I know I have called my therapist a lot of names in this blog today, but I still believe she is right for me because we have a connection. Granted right now, that connection is a little frail but we are still tethered. The last time we talk about this, we went over Shneidman’s needs. He had 20 of them and I think I boiled them down to less than 10 that affected me, because part of his theory was that frustrated needs causes suicidal thinking. A lot has happened to me this year, more than any other year to date. Problem is that we just talk about shit in circles and we just go around and around because we are just on this merry-go-round that doesn’t have a stop.

People go to therapy for different reasons. I have a whole slew of them that are basically being neglected and possibly fueling my suicidality. I could list them but if you read my blog or my tweets every day you can probably figure out what the major ones are. I know my therapist can’t do shit about my physical pain, neither can my psychiatrist. I have trauma history, a death in my family that still hasn’t been quite dealt with, PTSD that I don’t think is managed, etc. just to name a few. I read blogs from fellow friends that suffer the same kinds of things that I struggle with yet they are dealing with differently. One of my blog friends has severe PTSD and has anxiety that tears her apart at times. My anxiety, though not a principle symptom, has becoming more of a problem lately because of my damn pain syndrome. It drives me to suicidal thinking. And there is no cut off valve when that level has been reached. So far I have managed but I still plan and strategize my suicidal plan because it comforts me to know I have a way out. I still don’t know what is going to happen this week. I know I have put off my plan but it’s back on again because, why the hell not if my therapist is pulling away from me, even though she says she is not.

In my head, I think I have spoiled my therapist. I bring her treats and indulge in her fantasy that I won’t kill myself. Maybe we both are trapped in that fantasy because I am still here either way you look at it. I have tried to bring her the reality my death will bring and even tried to say if I die, here is the help you need to find. I once brought her an article about it that she refused to read. She doesn’t think I will kill myself. Maybe that is what is keeping me going but it is also draining me to keep up this front week after week. I want to die very badly, to get away from myself because there are so many things I can’t stand about me. Being in pain every single day and night is also taxing me. Knowing the fact that my pain syndrome has changed course on me hasn’t helped matters. All I can do is what the voices tell me to do at the end of the day. So far I have ignored them, but one of these days, I will give in and things will finally be at peace. For me anyways.

Shepard’s Pie and other things

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

Shepard’s pie and other things

I’ve had a long day, and it started early this morning. The bus was late so I didn’t get to the station until after 0730. I got my espresso but wasn’t in the mood for eating anything. I then high tailed to the trains because there were delays. The station platform was crowded. Wonderful. I pretty much stood the whole way to my stop.

I got to my appointment a few minutes early. I was the only person in the waiting room for this doctor so I thought I would be in and out. Wrong. The doc was 40 minutes late because she got stuck in traffic. I wanted to leave but I needed a refill for my script. We talked and went over the history. She said she sent it to Walgreens and I still don’t see it, hours later. So I am hoping the stupid system didn’t fail me yet again. I am waiting to see if she sent it to another pharmacy before I panic. I have used up my last row of hormone pills and if I don’t get the pills by Saturday, I am screwed. But I will worry about that tomorrow. I will have to hound the office until it gets called in.

I came home and had to get some lip balm because my lips were so dry they were cracking. The weather was very cold, which didn’t help. I had twenty minutes until the next bus so I had time to run to CVS for the balm. They didn’t have the one I preferred but I got the brand at least. I put it in my jacket so I would have it. I thought of going to Starbucks for a sandwich but there wasn’t time. I figure I would have a cup of tea and my cranberry cake for breakfast.

For lunch, I figure I would make the Shepard’s pie. I was starting to feel lazy while relaxing, drinking my tea. I wasn’t in pain, which I thought was odd. The train was still having delays so there were still no seats on the ride home. I had to stand until the train emptied out two stops before mine. Even while walking home, I wasn’t in pain. I thought I could make the pie without trouble. Yeah right. As I was waiting for the potatoes to brown in the oven, my toes exploded. I was sitting when this happened. I cursed and figured enough time had elapsed for the potatoes. They were crispy but not brown. But I had the same problem last time I used instant potatoes.

I ate a little of it as I had been eating the left over potatoes as the pie was supposed to be browning. I was full with the little piece that I had, which was good enough for me as I needed to rest my godforsaken foot. I cleaned up best I could and then scurried to my room to take more pain meds and rest my stupid foot. I am done for the fucking day. I am tired and in pain. My mother said she would try the pie so she has dinner. She will just have to heat it up. My niece will also have dinner so I am not expecting there to be much leftover for tomorrow. I only had about a pound of ground beef, which wasn’t much. But the craving is out of my system now.

After considering what a friend has commented on my blog the other day, I don’t think I will try and end my life this week. That doesn’t mean that I am any less suicidal. I still am. It’s just that short of jumping in front of a train or getting hit by a bus, I don’t see an alternative to ending my life. Sure there are other ways I could end it, but unless I can secure a hotel room, I doubt it will happen this month. The way that my foot is killing me right now doesn’t make me feel better about my decision. I would go to the hospital but I can’t trust them with my pain medication schedule, or even being able to take my strong pill should I need it. I will go insane if I am in serious pain and not being able to control it because some hot shot doctor thinks better than I do about what is right for me.

I don’t have to go out again until Friday, unless my prescription shows up at Walgreens before then. I know they are cutting paper waste by faxing electronically but I still wish for paper scripts. It just will make life easier sometimes than relying on a stupid new computer system that likes to fuck with everyone, indiscriminately. Until then, I can rest my damn foot.

Painsomnia Begins

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

Painsomnia begins

I haven’t tried going to sleep yet but my ankle is already flaring up so I doubt I will sleep in the next few hours anyway. My groceries came. They didn’t have all my powerade that I ordered. That was fine. I have enough to carry me through till the next month. It’s not summer anymore so I shouldn’t be going through it like I was. I finagled the fridge to accommodate the juice and my mother finagled the freezer to fit my tater tots. I had to make a few trips up and down the stairs because the guy forgot to deliver the water and for some reason, wouldn’t shut the doors. That part annoys me because the least they can do is shut them on their way out.

This cold is really kicking my ass, so you would think that I would be sleeping. I had to use some Flonase to keep my nasal passages open and to possibly help the running nose. I also took some Vitamin D to help my immunity with this respiratory virus. I really don’t want it in my lungs. Bronchitis sucks when you have a bad back.

My sister made a turkey soup with the left over turkey meat. It was really good. It was the only sustenance I have had all day, other than pudding pie. Tomorrow, I am going to work on the custard pie and eat my cranberry cake with coffee. Who needs real food with all these yummy desserts? I forgot to delete the cranberries from my grocery list so now I need a recipe for muffins or cake or something to do with them. I love my Nantucket cake but there is only so much love and I am the only one that eats it so I need to find something else to do with the cranberries. I put the bag in the freezer for now. I still have half a bag left from the cake I made. Too much cranberries.

I’ve had a mild headache for most of the day. I took some ibuprofen to quiet it down but it’s still there. I hope it’s not a prelude to a fever coming on. I really hate being sick with a virus that I just have to wait till it passes its course. It’s just so annoying because there is nothing to ease it really.

The pain in my foot and ankle is just gnawing at me. My defenses are down because of this cold and this pain is just pushing me to the limit of my patience. Not what I need when I am in a suicidal state of mind. This week is going to be hard. It will be the only week that I have to really end my life before the holidays. I will feel like a wimp if I don’t try. I am tired of fighting this battle day in and day out. It’s more than just fatigue and exhaustion. It’s downright depletion of everything that I have in me. Just a few more days to try my experiment and see if I can leave this world.