Tag: chronic pain

About depression that I have to get off my chest

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

About depression that I have to get off my chest

There has been a LOT of talk lately about depression being treatable. Let me say first, that for some, it is. Therapy has been helpful to some in dealing with it. Medications and therapy still prove to be useful in treatment of depression or actually any mental illness. It was once thought that schizophrenia was a medication only illness. But I learned through one of my suicidologists that isn’t always true, as there was a paper written by him about he helped decrease an individual’s suicide risk by seeing him weekly or more if suicide was more present. It helped the patient feel cared for. If I find the article in my files, I will share it if you care to read it.

I am in no way saying you should NOT get help if you are feeling depressed. But my experiences (which are not the same to the whole depression population) beg to differ. I have yet to find anything that helps the mood shifts. Since my long time therapist stopped seeing me for reasons I have still yet to learn, I have been the most unstable and hopeless I have been in the 16 years I was in “treatment” with her. We had our disagreements about treatment. Transference and countertranferences were helpful at times but were no long lasting. She stuck with the way she was treating me and I stuck to being, well, depressed and suicidal.

What I have to get off my chest is that sometimes, depression is untreatable in a small percentage of people. There is such a thing as treatment resistant depression. Despite ECT (“shock” therapy), medication, and therapy, one can still feel depressed. There are a trillion reasons for this. Sometimes it has to do with the trauma one experienced. Some has to do with biology itself, that the genetic predisposition of a person makes them depressed. Other times it has nothing to do with a trauma or situation. It just happens that you start withdrawing from life, slowly at first and before you know it, you can’t go back to things you loved because, frankly, you are too depressed. Sometimes you maybe too depressed to seek help and a friend or family member needs to push you to get it. The thing is, depression still exists despite treatment. Some people have suffered depression for years and have never told a single soul. They are the small percentage that still go on with their episodes after they pass. They are less likely to die by suicide. Hell you don’t NEED depression to end your life. It has happened. Look at the Shawshank Redemption movie. The warden was “well” mentally and rather than be arrested and humiliated, he killed himself. Would anyone have thought he would do such a thing? No. And that is what my point is. Although we know what the risks are for suicide, depression and mental illness is only a small window into those risks. There are some people who die that have no history of mental illness yet die by suicide. I won’t go into more discussion about it because this is a loaded issue. I suggest reading the Myths and Facts of Suicide by Thomas Joiner. It is a really good book about what I am talking about.

I can only talk about my experience, no one else’s. I have been depressed since I was 8, maybe younger. I only know this because I started thinking suicide was a good idea at that age. I was 10 when I tried to end my life for the first time. I suffered from depression and after taking Prozac, became bipolar because the medication caused mania like symptoms. Not once during my years of being on medication AND therapy did my thoughts of suicide leave me fully. Neither did depression. There were brief times where I felt contentment. I honestly don’t believe in happiness. Like anger, it is a fleeting emotion and doesn’t last. But feeling contentment does happen for me and I sometimes feel comfortable in it. I know it isn’t going to last long. It never does. The depression always finds a way back, maybe not right away but it does come back. Despite some of my successes in life, graduating from high school, getting my Associate’s degree, publishing two books, I still was depressed. I was elated for a little while but it was fleeing. Just like when I wrote the article for the New York Times. I couldn’t believe and still don’t, that it happened. I still have the check that one day I will frame along with the article. But soon after all the paperwork was filed and I was waiting for it to be published, I was intensely depressed. The New York fucking Times was publishing something I wrote and instead of being happy as a pig in shit, I was depressed. I learned that no matter what my success in life was, no matter how much money I made, good job that I had, I was going to always be depressed. I could do one of two things. I could accept that this was the way it was always going to be or fight it. I chose to accept it.

I knew I had been fighting it since I was 16 that I would always have to take medication for my mental illness. It wasn’t easy but I knew if I was to avoid a lifetime of hospitalizations, I would need to take medicine to hold off the demons. Yet despite this theory, I was still hospitalized. Many times. Some times it was like a revolving door during my worst episodes. In 1994, I suffered a huge major depressive episode. I was hospitalized almost every two weeks and then for two months because I tried to end my life. It was one of the lowest periods of my life. I couldn’t bring myself to do anything. Showering didn’t matter. I gained a ton of weight from the meds I was put on. I started living an almost double life. The life the psychiatrists wanted to see and who I really was at home, when I was by myself. Hopelessness was rampant and totally lost on me. I can’t say that I got better. I just got better at hiding from myself, to keep the darkness at a minimum so I wouldn’t be committed at the age of 19 to a state hospital. Even then the façade I built was hard to put down. I just did what I was told to do and when I felt like acting on my feelings of suicide, I told my therapist or psychiatrist, which inevitably led to another hospitalization. But the hospitals in the 1990s were different than they are today. Today they are nothing but holding pens. Two maybe three days you are in and then you are out. If you need more help and have an outpatient therapist, you see them. You don’t need to be in. Maybe you stay for a week or two. But never more than that. Insurance won’t pay for it. And you don’t really get “treated”. You are watched 24/7 to make sure you don’t harm yourself. You might find a “treatment team” that listens but that is ALL THEY DO. They don’t help you in what you came in for. That is for you and your outpatient therapist to work out. If you don’t have one, you might get referred to someone. I’ve never been in that situation so not sure how that works.

I have lost faith that my illness is “treatable”. Seems no matter what I do, I end up depressed or just stay depressed. I am okay with that. I’ve known for a while that there is no longer an antidepressant out there for me. I am grateful my mood stabilizer still works. I just hope that it does fuck up my sodium levels and I need to some off it. Then I will be really screwed. In that sense, I still take my meds because they help. I no longer have commanding voices every day and the accompanying paranoia and delusions. I have to take a med for that every day. But therapy is still elusive. I honestly don’t know if it helps. Talking with someone honestly, like writing this blog, has been useful. Sometimes it feels good to talk to my therapist and leave knowing that someone understands, even if he thinks I am crazy. He said that he is “taking my lead”, which I am not sure about but it is a learning curve like anything else. And I will stress again, that if you aren’t comfortable with the person you are talking to, if they make you uncomfortable or just not getting it, find someone else. There are a lot of different therapists out there. A lot of different degrees as well (but all should be licensed by the state you are in, if they aren’t, I wouldn’t see them). It will take some time to know if they fit with you. The average is about 3 or 4 sessions. Any more than that might be a waste of time if there is no connection.

Twitter and another day of buses

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

Twitter and another day of buses

I had woken up a few times since 0630 due to pain. I had slept okay for the first time in a while. I took my meds when I woke up and then waited till after 7 so I could shut off my med alarm for my BP meds and try to sleep for a bit. I wanted to be out of the house by 9 but that didn’t happen. So I was pushing for either 10 or 1030 the latest. I had some breakfast. I didn’t feel like making an egg so I just made a peanut butter and fluff sandwich. It is called a fluffernutter. I had a recent follow on Twitter ask what is was. I have to laugh. We (Britain and US) have different ways of calling the same things or different things when it comes to food. Crisps are fries. Biscuits are cookies. But a flutternutter is unique to New England as the marshmallow fluff was created in Somerville Mass, then the patent sold and was then manufactured in Lynn, MA. There is a fluff day coming up soon to commemorate the invention of the sweet spread.

So after I ate, I left for my pharmacy. The stock had come in but due to some computer problem, they couldn’t fix it until tomorrow. I said I would like the copy of the script so I can have it filled at another pharmacy. I just got to the bus stop when the bus came. I would have been pissed if I missed it. I put my headphones on and traveled. I got to the pharmacy, which is way bigger than the one near me. I then waited nearly 45 minutes for it to be filled. I was not happy. I also paid more for Miralax at this store than my home one, which further annoyed me. I then walked to the bus stop but had just missed a bus going to a train station. According to my bus app, my bus wasn’t coming for another 12 minutes. Another bus going to the train station came a few minutes later and I took it as it looked like it was going to rain. My ankle was talking to me. I felt like I am being stabbed repeatedly in the same spot. I took the breakthrough med and hoped it wasn’t going to knock me out.

As I was going to the station, my legs felt like jelly. I had been doing some serious walking the past three days so they were understandably tired. I still wanted to make the zucchini pie when I got home. I was hungry as it was after lunch time when I got home and all I had was the sandwich. I had a pop tart as I started to prepare for cooking. It took me a little while to get things done. The stupid container that held the diced onions wouldn’t open. The butter would cut the way I wanted it to so made a mess. I was getting so annoyed as my legs were about to divorce me. I put everything together and then put it in the oven. I used two more eggs because there was a lot of vegetables and I wasn’t sure it would be covered with just four. I also used two bags of shredded cheese. I was only supposed to use 12 ounces but what is 4 ounces more??

I went upstairs to relax while it cooked in the oven. I checked Twitter and had been checking it on and off all day. It was making me so fucking sad because of what the dumbass in chief is doing to immigrant families. There was a tweet where a 4 month old was taken from the mother while she was breastfeeding!! What the fuck!!! The stories are horrendous and all my representative cares about is how people working minimum wage can’t afford housing. It is a total fucking mad house. I tried to just tweet and not read others tweets. One of the people that I follow follows some police feeds. All the retweets are missing kids. I can’t take it. Game started playing at 3 pm and I couldn’t get what was going on. All my feed was on the immigrant kids, Orange Buffoon’s foolish summit with NK, and the bullshit that is going on with the opioid epidemic. I think I need a Twitter break. It used to be a way for me to know what is going on and stay in the know but now I don’t want to know shit!! I am suicidal enough and politics and kids being ripped from their families are just adding to it. I don’t like what my country is becoming. And nobody in Congress is pushing forward to put a stop to it. What really gets me is a person in Congress will tweet, X should be done. Fucking do it!! What the hell are you waiting for?? Retweets aren’t going to make it fucking happen you nitwit!! Or the other thing is to call the representatives/senators. This has been going on since fucking January 20th, 2017!!! I am tired of it. I am tired of calling/tweeting. Nothing is happening because of these calls. Just feels like a huge hopeless situation.

random thoughts 07062018

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

I was up late last night. I was talking to a friend who was concerned about me. I didn’t tell her specifically what I was going through. But it was getting late and I let her know that I will talk to her sometime today. She said okay.

I then got a message from another Twitter buddy saying some friends have contacted him over their concern for me. I had told him months ago what I was planning so he knew. He said I was important to him. I told him he was important to me, too. I didn’t say more than that.

I went downstairs and made coffee. I couldn’t decide what I wanted to eat. I ended up making a peanut butter sandwich. Afterwards, I took out the recycle and trash. I was feeling okay but the bins were on the street so I had to do some walking back and forth. By the time I was done, my foot yelled at me. I limped upstairs. There was one more bag of recycle to take out. I wasn’t going to do it, least not then. I went up to my room and even though I checked off that I took my pain meds, I didn’t. I took them and tried to nap but my foot wasn’t having it.

I am hurting a great deal because of the trash. I had taken a shower so I am sure that just stressed me without realizing it. I am so tired of being in pain. I am trying not to freak out over tomorrow. Tomorrow I see the pain doc and I hope my pain meds will be changed. My PCP has written my current meds which I will pick up tomorrow before the appointment should the pain doc not prescribe or if there is a problem filling them at the pharmacy so I will have meds over the weekend. I am seeing the pain doc late so by the time I get home, and if there is a problem, I won’t be able to fix it until Monday, which will leave me with no meds.

I wanted to write a blog last night but nothing was coming to me. I had woken up around 1500 so there wasn’t much to talk about. I had written a blog around 0600. I don’t know why blogging is becoming so hard for me. I guess it is hard when there is no feedback and I feel like I am just throwing the words out but no one is reading. There may be a few who read the blog for the day but no comment or like. I don’t think I got a like on my blog since last week. This blog is just an outlet for me but lately, I just say the same things. Pain, routine, end of blog.

There was a wonderful facebook post about Kate Spade. She is the fashion bag designer that died by suicide the other day. The write wrote about how she knew this actor had cancer and the type it was and listed a few people with other chronic illnesses, but you don’t hear about people with depression or anxiety or schizophrenia. No one wants to hear that. Everyone seems to judge them on their character, saying if you are this then you can’t be depressed or anxious or have a serious mental illness. Stigma kills so many people who want to get help yet are afraid about how they will be perceived after they have or even to admit they have a mental illness.

My blog started off as a way to talk about suicide because no one was. It is a daily struggle for me but I have stopped because there are people out there who don’t understand or are fearful about it so they report me. I had it happen on Twitter the other day. Just because someone says they are thinking about ending their lives doesn’t mean they are going to right then and there. Talk to them about it. Be there for them. Don’t make them feel more crazy than they are already feeling. Be a support to them and if need be, go with them to get help. Admitting you have a problem is only half the battle. I know so many people who have serious issues and the one thing holding them back is fear of how they are going to be perceived by others. Fuck them. You need help, get it. Simple as that. If the first person you talk to you don’t like or doesn’t fit with you, try someone else. I went through so many therapists to find the right one. And even though the therapist I see now is not right for me, he is good enough. Yes, rejection hurts. I have been rejected by so many therapists because of my suicidal history it is not funny. But I didn’t let that stop me from finding the one I am with now. If the psychiatrist you are with doesn’t help you, there are others. Find them. I know it’s not easy and you think you are hopeless, but you are not. That is the depression lying to you. Too many families go through heartbreak because one member doesn’t seek help they need. Take the step. There are resources out there. Check out NAMI or Google a search for therapists in your area. Talk to your primary doctor about how you are feeling and that you need help. They can often refer you to someone. Or call your insurance and find out who is accepting new patients. Ask how recent the list is because most therapists (as I found out) are not always seeing new patients as the list is old and hasn’t been updated in years.

Anxiety, pain, and PTSD. What a mix

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, CES, chronic physical pain, CRPS, depression, mood disorders, painsomnia, PTSD

I am having moving pain, going up half way my leg and back down to the bones in my foot. I’m kind of freaking out because my nerve injury started that way. It is setting off PTSD for me. Have had nightmares all night so not sleeping well. Took some ativan, neurontin and fiber because my bowels are stuck again. I am fearful of what is going to happen when I change my meds. PT said take the laxatives before dose. Great. Also if pain doc for some reason doesn’t prescribe me my meds, I am screwed. I need a refill of meds this week and don’t see him till late Friday afternoon. Emailed my pcp this concern. I don’t want to be out of meds on a weekend. Just a little more anxiety this week.

I went to PT yesterday. She said I have one of two muscles pulled that affect the groin but not sure which one. The good news it is not coming from my back and I don’t have bursitis or arthritis in my hip. If I did, she would send me back to my doc.

It was good seeing her. She is still recovering from a little major surgery. A muscle in her thigh popped out. Yikes! Even while she was examining me, her leg started to fatigue. She had the surgery last month. I feel for her.

Because it was my groin, she started moving her hand feeling about and when she got to a certain point, I started to get uncomfortable because of my sexual abuse history. I felt uncomfortable telling her but she quickly stopped and I was grateful. That area has always made me tense, even with female doctors. I didn’t see my male pcp on this issue because I didn’t want him touching me there. I know they need to and they are professionals so aren’t going to hurt me but it still makes me uncomfortable and tense.

I didn’t write a blog yesterday because I couldn’t think of a title. That is usually the first order of business. Then I can write. I had stuff to talk about but without a title, I couldn’t write. I tried for 2 hours and then gave up.

Most of the night, I’ve been having nightmares. I don’t know why. I am not prone to them. Usually i just have weird or bad dreams but nothing that wakes me feeling scared and have to turn on the light to know it was a dream. Just felt like people we out to get me. I am sure the anxiety i am having this week hasn’t helped.

Not sure what I’ll be doing today. Probably sleeping but I’ve been up since 330 and despite taking my meds, I don’t feel tired 2 hours later. I had a fluffernutter. It is a sandwich made with peanut butter and Fluff, a marshmallow spread. It is a New England staple as Fluff was invented in a town nearby Boston. They recently celebrated the 100 year Anniversary of the patent being sold to a factory in Lynn, which is north of Boston.

My ankle bone is being hammered like it was when I woke up two hours ago. Guess I’ll have to add the strong pain pill to the mix. I hate bone pain more than any other CRPS pain.