distress intolerance

Tolerating distress

I have been in a bad mood for the past hour. I have been in wicked bad pain and it has me thinking of ending my life once again. It is after midnight my time and there is no one that I can really call that will really understand what it is I am going through. I tried reaching out to a few people but as it is a late hour, I got no where.

Then I thought about all the DBT bullshit that I have been through and thought I am doing this wrong. What if I am supposed to be feeling the distress as much as it is intolerateable? I don’t know if that is a word but it is the closest thing that I can think of to describe what I am feeling. The thinking is that if you tolerate the feelings you are better off. I am not sure how. Feeling this way sucks and all I want to do is get rid of it. I mean I am feeling this way only because my foot is killing me and there is nothing I can do except wait for the pain medication to kick in and give me some relief. Listening to my favorite playlist is helping me. I listened to Laura Branigan and her voice always soothes me. I thought about writing in my journal but I am not up to putting pen to paper just yet.

My AAS blog was just published and it started off with today I am in distress because I wanted to kill myself. Why am I still alive when I want so badly to be dead. I just can’t go through with it and it is killing me, being alive, and suffering so much. I know that if I were a dog or cat, I would have been let down already. Funny how we are more humane to animals than we are to humans. The reasons are many and I won’t get into it because I am just not sure it will help me calm down. Anytime I talk about hurting myself I get riled up. And when you throw in that humans suffer because it is, well, expected, it just pisses me off. Would you expect a person dying of cancer to suffer?? Or Parkinson’s disease or any other terminal illness? That is what irks me so much, I have a non-terminal illness and am expected to suffer and go about my life like it is not weighing me down. I hate being like this. I cannot tolerate it. So the hell with the distress intolerance bullshit. It is not helping me just making me wish that I was dead all the more.

I am a survivor of suicide attempts

I wrote a quick blog yesterday about the stigma of suicide. I asked wouldn’t it be nice to say to people you survived suicide like you survived cancer? I listened to the WEEI radio to hear my Sox game and it amazes me how quick people are to say they survived cancer but hide in the dark when talking about taking their own life. Both people are fighting for their lives. Granted one is bodily and the other is mostly mental but it still begs to question why there is a different in the illness. Suicide is the result usually of untreated depression or other mental illness. Most people think that it is depression that causes people to think about suicide but it is not. You can be psychotic and think about killing yourself. I know. I have been through it with my psychosis. I have had voices tell me to kill myself, in fact in one of the delusion it was considered a command order. Psychotic disorders often get tossed by the way side when considering suicide but a recent article in JAMA showed that it can pave the way to catching suicide attempts if asked about. The study showed that teens with psychotic symptoms are more apt to attempt suicide than non-psychotic teens.

But you don’t need to be in a mental state to be in the suicidal mind. That is what is so devastating about suicide is that people before they commit suicide look and act “normal”. I know that people who are suffering from cancer can look anything but normal. They can be bald or look skeletons. They are really fighting to be alive while those that are thinking about suicide just want to die. People with cancer are the lucky ones. Their suffering will end. People know this. But those of us with mental illness we continue to suffer and when we decide to give up and end the fight, we are looked down upon and treated often inhumanely. We then feel ashamed of ourselves for trying to end the pain and failing at it. We end up in the hospital to “save ourselves from more destruction”. All we want is peace, same as the cancer patient that is terminally ill. We want the suffering to end.

To some people, they believe that suicide is preventable. To some people it is but you are not going to catch the majority of people most at risk. You cannot stop every suicide. People have the right to kill themselves if they so choose to do so. It is the ones that survive that have the right to speak about it. Because those that survive depending on their reaction to their own attempt might be clues to whether they survive or not. I have survived the past several years despite making elaborate plans on killing myself. I really want to die but my reasons for living keep me going. I don’t like it but I can’t picture my sister telling my eight year old niece that I have passed on. She is my baby and I don’t want to hurt her or my other nieces or my nephew. My nephew is what kept me going during a very difficult time in my life. I wish that I had succeeded but because I didn’t, I got to see him grow into a man and graduate from high school. I didn’t think that he would or that I would live to see the day he did.

It saddens me that I am still alive when all I want to be is dead. I don’t know why I preserve. Right now I am in a lot of pain and I don’t like it. I don’t know if I am going to get any sleep tonight because of it. Where is the training of medical doctors to handle chronic pain? There isn’t any. I don’t get asked what my mental status is during medical visits anymore. It is just assumed that I am ok because I have a smile on my face. Didn’t matter that the day before I was in so much pain that I was in bed all day, taking pain pills every four-six hours. Maybe I was happy because I could finally get out of the house and go to my doctor’s appointment and I wasn’t in pain. The siege was over with. But now it has returned and the meds have not kicked in yet to knock my big ass out. I am tired of living with chronic physical pain all the time. It sucks the life out of you, what ever life is. And if it doesn’t, your mental illness will surely do it for you. There is no reprieve. No relief in sight. And that is why suicide is what it is. For people that survive it, they should be able to say that they have. But no one does. There are a few people that have been coming out slowly through the AAS blog but I fear that the ones that don’t come out, are the ones that will try again and maybe succeed.

I am a failure of suicide attempts. And because it has been so long since my last one I am not going to try again any time soon. Least for now. So I am in pain and I have one option left to me…to suffer.

nobody knows

Nobody knows…

Nobody knows how bad I hurt

Nobody knows how late I stay up

Nobody knows the pain that I feel

Nobody knows the hours I sleep and don’t sleep. They think that because it is night time, I sleep but I don’t. I usually have the best sleep between 6 am and 10 am. That is all I need. A four hour nap. Because it is the only thing that makes me feel good for a few hours. It is the only thing that takes my pain away when I am in the deepness of the unconsciousness.

Nobody knows the struggle in my chest.

Nobody knows the pain that I feel

nobody knows how bad I want the struggle to end

nobody knows how bad I just want to end my life

bitchy blog

peroneous tendon

I feel wicked agitated and angry right now and I don’t know why. Nothing has specifically set me off other than the Sox losing but I don’t have control over that. I just want to start a fight with someone and I tried that with a friend and it didn’t work. She wanted to just hear my voice and I refused to call her or have her call me. I can’t stand it when she gets into one of those moods. Because whatever I say goes in one ear and out the other. I don’t get listened to.

I know I am partly enraged because I am in pain and I don’t have an outlet for it. Plus I still have my stupid fucking menses and the feminine product is irritating me. There is nothing I can do about that but I can’t not wear underwear while bleeding. My sheets will get messed up and so will possibly my mattress. UGH I am so aggravated!!! If I could cut I would. All I could do is just ride out the storm and this storm is big. I can’t even find the right music to calm me down so I am just listening to my mix of country tracks. I finally got Brantley Gilber’s More than miles song. I have been playing it non stop on Youtube the past few days. I love this song. Right now Luke Bryan is playing. I love him too. Not in any way of a sexual sense just voice wise.

I also feel frustrated because no one got back to me on my papers that I sent out today. I know that I shouldn’t expect a quick response for a three page paper but an acknowledgement would have been nice. I sometimes think I send out emails and it just lands in cyber no where land when I don’t get a response. I should probably take an Ativan to calm the hell down but that is going to do nothing for my pain. Pain has moved up to my leg because like a fucking dummy I had to stand on my leg while my foot was asleep. My peroneous tendon didn’t like that one but so the WHOLE fucking tendon is inflamed. I guess I won’t be getting my hair cut tomorrow like I wanted to. I know I won’t be able to walk the distance. Not after a painful night like tonight. I am so fucking angry. Angry that I can’t do anything about my pain, Angry that I can’t stand for more than a few minutes at a time. That I just can’t do what I used to do. And the surprising thing is that I am fucking hungry but I know I can’t make it down the stairs to get something to eat. All I had to eat today was a coffee and a cold cut sandwich. NOTHING else. I just wasn’t hungry today. But now I am and there isn’t anything I can do about it. I have to sleep with one ear open tonight because my mother had a hypoglycemic episode and she tried to keep it from me. I could tell because she was slurring her speech as she was telling me why she was eating cereal. WTF. I hope I don’t have to call an ambulance. I really don’t need to be going up and down the damn stairs to let emergency personnel into my house. But if I have to, I have to. I should go check on her but my leg is still tender. So much for the fucking pain meds working tonight. I should take two and see if that helps. I just been taking one hoping that would be enough. WRONG.

I know my friend is going to ask me about why I was in a nasty mood tonight and why she didn’t call me like she wanted to. I fucking hate when people don’t get that I just don’t want to talk. I gave her a choice. Either don’t call or just text me. That was the only way I was communicating. Take it or leave it so she left it, and I hope she leaves it at that.

I just checked on my mother and she is sprawled out on her bed. Doesn’t appear to be in distress so maybe I can sleep tonight. But I doubt it because I just acted up my leg again. God forbid I should walk. All because of a stupid disc material. I know it is because I have scar tissue on my nerve root. That is the fun part of having Cauda Equina Syndrome, the emergency ends but the pain doesn’t. You still have to live with the repercussions of the after effects of surgery. So frustrating to live like this.