Tag: chronic illness

Saturday Blog 21 July 2018

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

Saturday Blog 21 July 2018

Plain and simple, I didn’t do nothing today. Well, nothing exciting. I washed the dishes I didn’t do yesterday and then I emptied the dishwater. It took me about an hour to do the dishwasher because my back kept acting up from standing. I find it easier to put away the silverware and then do one row at a time. I didn’t put away the Tupperware because I hate doing so. I will try tomorrow.

I just ate the leftover food from last night’s meal. For some reason, my heartburn pill hasn’t been working this week. Last few days, I’ve had some serious heartburn and reflux. I didn’t take the pill last night to see how I did. Having a tomato sauce was probably not a good meal to have when you didn’t take heartburn meds. I just hope the reflux doesn’t happen. I took the pill tonight because I didn’t want to be burping up acid like I did last night. That was not fun.

I am not happy with my sister or brother in law as they put the bed together for my mother but didn’t take the plastic out to the garbage bin downstairs. They just stuffed it in my barrel for me to take out. WTF. My brother in law still didn’t level the step after the last step of the spiral staircase going out. I watched my step this time because I knew it wasn’t level. Asshole.

I had a weird dream about a baby needed to go potty even though they had a full diaper on. My sister had put on a little mermaid cover to the toilet so as I am trying to figure out how to take it off, the poor kid is peeing all over the place. I dream the weirdest stuff.

I talked to my mother today. I miss her. She was eating lunch so I didn’t talk with her long. She didn’t walk to far, just a few steps was all she could do. I hope she progresses. I am sure pain is the chief reason but she can’t tolerate anything stronger than Tylenol (paracetamol). I feel so bad for her. I probably am not going to be able to see her until Monday night or Tuesday. Depends on how I feel after therapy. I start seeing my therapist twice a week next week. It is going to be tough. It always wears me out. Hell, just washing dishes and putting away the stuff in the dishwasher wore me out. I needed a nap. I didn’t make coffee today. I just had tea.

It’s been a cool day. I think there are storms for tomorrow, which stink. I won’t be able to keep the back door open to let air in. Sox lost. I don’t know who was pitching. I didn’t listen to the game. For some reason, I wasn’t interested in it today. Maybe I will listen tomorrow. Sale is pitching. He has been pretty good but like anything, if he doesn’t get run support, it doesn’t matter how many strike outs he gets. He has a lot so far as he gets at least 10 per game.

I got an email from my Amazon publishing. I will be getting royalties next week. One I know I won’t get right away because it is the British pound. For some reason it takes a while to go through. The other is Kindle and they never say in the email how much I am getting. One time I got 7 cents. HAHA what am I going to do with that? I rather get something though. I worked hard on my books. I still got to promote my second one. I got the postcards staring at me. I just got to get the energy to go to the station and hand them out. I don’t know how else to do it. I haven’t sold too many to even have one review. Maybe one day.

What if I live?

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

What if I live?

Been thinking seriously of ending my life in a few weeks. I plan dates. It helps me cope knowing I have some date to look forward to so I know the misery will end. Usually this happens in a state of despair when my pain levels are high and all I can think about is death.

But the next morning, after a few hours or more of sleep, I feel differently. Some mornings I cannot believe I sunk so low. Yet usually there is some record of it—a blog or email or social media post. It brings me back, temporarily, to that place and I wonder what if I live rather than go through the plan to die?

I have few events coming up in the next few months. Something to look forward to, so to speak, yet on the nights of despair, they are far from reach, unable to be thought about. Someone said that I should write goodbye letters. I wrote one to my psychiatrist. The other 19 people on my list is a little harder. I don’t have all my ducks in a row, so to speak, to end my life like I had planned way back in March. I was supposed to die in June. It is now the middle of July and I am still here. I do’t feel that getting help would be helpful to me. I have been in therapy for 27 years, that is nearly half of my lifetime. Yet I still remain as suicidally trapped as I did when I was 15 years old and wanted to seriously end my life then.

What if I live?

I don’t know the answer to this question. I just keep going, hoping the day won’t come where I’ll say I’ve had enough and go through with my plan. I don’t want to live. I am in too much physical pain. CRPS has taken so much from me. Might as well take my life as well. I’m not worth living.

I feel like I am crying wolf too many times. I don’t think anyone believes just how serious I am this time. But even I am not 100% convinced I will end my life on the day I planned. What if I live? What if I die? What if I am rescued in time? No one knows my plan. Hell, I don’t even know it completely. I’ve been too afraid of putting it forward because that will make it more real. Do I have to end my life? I feel I have to. I feel no one cares how bad I hurt. And not one medical professional wants to see my suffering end. I’ve had enough of fighting for my care. I had to do this since I was 16. I can’t do it anymore. I’ve run out of gas. If I live, I’ll continue to suffer just so my family and friends aren’t in pain. What kind of life is that?

I’ve been pushing through trying to hang on. I know the demons will pass in the morning. Hence I live to see another day. Hence I live, least until despair grabs a hold of me once again.

What if I live?

just a similar day

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

Just a similar day

I saw my mother this morning. She was in pain but doing better than I expected. She will be in the hospital till Friday and then go to rehab. I think she is there just to keep an eye on her sugars and such. Last night I really missed her and told her because I was not used to the quiet and it freaked me out. I kept trying to hear her and when I didn’t, I would panic until I realized she wasn’t home. It is going to take some getting used to. House is so quiet without her, mostly because the TVs aren’t blasting. But it is better during the day than at night as everything seems more quiet at night.

My ankle was kind of hurting when I came home. I made my niece some eggs as she was hungry. I thought that would stop her from eating Cheez Its but nope. When I went down a little later to make another cup of coffee, the bag was almost gone. I asked her if the eggs filled her she said yes. She is a teen. Oh well.

I got another fricken Spanish promotion thing from Xfinity/Comcast so I am going old school and mailing them a letter asking them to stop. It is a waste as it just ends up in the recycle bin.

I got to take a shower tomorrow. I can’t today or maybe I will later tonight if my pain goes down. It got worse when I made coffee. I had to take a breakthrough med. I had been doing okay the past few days, least during the day time, anyway. Night time is a different story. I turn into the midnight demon and mood sucks as well as pain soars. I am hoping to make a chili lime chicken burger for dinner. I had to defrost two because they were very stuck together. They are good. Very filling. I didn’t make bacon for breakfast as I didn’t have time. I just made egg and toast. And coffee. I got to clean everything when I am done cooking later. I have been trying to do as much as I can so it doesn’t pile up and become overwhelming.

It is hot today but no where near humid, thank god. I can take dry heat but when it is sticky, I hate it. I hate being in the sun anyway. I feel so exhausted. I can only imagine how it is going to be when I start the pain program, if I do anyway. I am going to be more demanding when I see the pain doc next in increasing my pain med dose because if I am in this much pain now just from seeing my mother in the hospital for a few hours, how am I going to deal with being out with PT and OT appts?? I won’t be able to tolerate more than an hour or two out. What is that?? Bad enough therapy days tire me out and I need a rest day. Maybe I can send a message to my PCP to get through to my pain doc. My psych certainly isn’t going to vouch for me, despite the many emails I sent her.

I read a couple of chapters of the Poe book last night. I got kind of bored with it but got a good quote from it. I didn’t have the punctuation right, which annoyed me as to why it didn’t make sense. I tweeted it out because it fitted the idiot in chief and the whole Russia thing. I am not too shocked that the buffoons in Congress let this fly yet again, this time with the whole fucking world watching. Supposedly, there are going to be more marches. There should be standouts. Blocking DC traffic until he is arrested for treason. If I could stand for hours, I’d be there. All these marches do is just inflate his distorted ego. He likes the attention, no matter how negative it is. In his warped mind, it is a “positive”.

Okay, I got a burger to make. Until tomorrow

One More Light

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

One More Light

****expressions of suicide in this blog are just that. I am blowing off steam, expressing myself because keeping it in hurts too much****

This song by Linkin Park recently won an award for something I cannot remember. I saw it a couple of days ago. I am not surprised as when I first heard it, I knew it would be the perfect song for suicide prevention. Yet somehow, with my upcoming demise, I cannot help but think of this song.

I was talking to a friend of mine who I told a few months ago that I had made the decision to end my life in a few months. I told her yesterday when I would do it. She asked if everything had been planned like we talked about. I realized I didn’t have all my ducks in a row. Hell, I still haven’t written my letters. I am finding it hard to say goodbye to those I love dearly. People always think that suicide is an impulsive act. That is kind of horseshit to those that suffer from it chronically. There is usually a lot of planning involved. Even Chester had a smile on his face and looked happy in the days before he ended his life. I nor anyone else will know what was going through his mind that lead him to this decision.

Pain o’clock started a little while ago. I am so fricken tired of hurting. I know that no medicine or treatment will bring me pain free. Even if I go through the pain program and their tasks, I will still have pain. I will just manage it better, which I guess it is better than what I am doing now. Even though I am on better pain meds to manage my pain, I am still having flares. I really think that if I was on a higher dose of meds, just 15 milligrams, I wouldn’t have so many flares per week. But according to my psychiatrist, they (pain docs) won’t do that. I have had enough. She saw me yesterday because she was worried about me after I sent her a few emails about how bad the pain was and how my suicidality was increased. I am tired of fighting the supposed experts. It is shit when they don’t fucking listen to the patient. Like what was the point of me seeing her if she wasn’t going to do anything? I am done, so fucking done.

I am sorry to my friend and family about ending my life in the next few weeks. I tried really hard to manage my pain better but they fucked me over. My light needs to be extinguished. I can’t go on like this anymore. I don’t have a fucking life. I can’t even fucking read a book for fun anymore or go to Starbucks to write in my journal about mundane things without pain. It is only going to therapy or medical appointments these days. Often I leave an hour or two early so I do have time to cope with travel and write because as you can see, there are more than a few days between entries. Even my night journal doesn’t have that many entries. I should be on my new journal by now as I am so close to the last few pages but I am not because I don’t fucking care. I plan my death. I rather do that. That gives me hope that I can escape from this hell.

I am so very sorry for hurting any and everyone involved in my life. I know there are many people that will be hurt that that I am gone. If I could put a band-aid on your hearts I would. I don’t blame anyone. This isn’t anyone’s fault. I have postponed this long enough. I was supposed to die in June and here it is July. I wish I had the time to analyze this song. It is such a beautiful song with so many meanings.