Tag: chronic pain

Editing Complete and other things

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

Editing Complete

I spent a couple hours inputting the edits/changes to my book. Now I just need to write seventy-five pages to complete the book. This is if I don’t kill myself between now and the next month. I planned another date but I have therapy tomorrow so it might be curtailed. Because the holidays are next month and my next paycheck will be after the holidays, I won’t be able to see my therapist like I had hoped. I might be able to see her the week of my birthday but that will be it. I just can’t afford gifts and Zipcars.

I had a cup of tea and I think it’s causing me to not be sleepy. I did take my pain meds a little while ago so I am hoping I will sleep soon. I really don’t want to talk to my therapist. I didn’t ask for this session so I think it’s unfair that she has set this upon me. I am going to really rip into her for doing this.

I feel like this book is my second memoir as it’s mostly about my psychotic experiences. I did have some really cool delusions. It was fun to write about them, but I am sure it wasn’t fun while I was going through them. It’s usually very scary and I distrust those closest to me until the meds kick in and then I am in my “right” mind again. It was strange as I had written about my traumatic experience that brought me into therapy while listening to a song written by Taylor Swift that I swear represents my father to a T. I had it on repeat and while going through this one story, I was remembering the feelings of that night that I had written about. I couldn’t believe just how threatening my father was that night. It was then that I realized he was just a man.

If there is a song that I really love, I usually send some lyrics to my therapist. I really love Sam Hunt’s song “make you miss me”, but I can’t send her the lyrics to that one because she will have the police at my door if she can’t get in touch with me. The lyrics are powerful and I love them. I have the song on repeat right now because I want to sing the damn song without messing up on certain parts. It’s always towards the end of the song, I screw up. I will get it one of these days.

Facebook had “suggested” a publishing page for a Neil Gaiman book. I have it on Kindle but this was a leather bound book and it looked really cool. I clicked on it to see how much it was and it was fucking $100! No thanks! I will stick to my Kindle version. It had an excerpt from the book and now I am kind of nervous to read it because it talked about monsters. I don’t like scary books. His American Gods book had me freaked out. Took at least a week for me to get the images out of my head when people in the book were gruesomely killed or something weird happened. He is a brilliant writer but on the very weird side. I wanted to get his new book Troll Bridge but it’s a graphic novel. I don’t know what that means but I am guessing it is not my cup of tea. I have yet to go to the bookstore to look at it. I think that is what I am going to do from now on with his books. Not buy them until I physically look at them. Then I can decide if I want them or not. He is coming out with a mythology book in Feb. That one I would love to have, if I make it that long.

I feel like being suicidal is like living with cancer or something terminal. You just never know when you are going to die by your own hands. It could be tomorrow or it could be next week. I guess it just depends on guts. But survivor guilt has been killing me from going through with it at times. I know it will break my mother’s heart and that of my family, especially my nieces and nephew. Then I got my stupid therapist’s guilt trip whenever I bring it up. She is just expressing her feelings on the matter, which I don’t always take into consideration. I try to block them out because it’s just easier that way but then I really think about what I am doing and it stops the suicide plan and gives me some time. I hate this because I just want to fucking die because I can’t stand being in physical pain anymore.

If you have been reading my blogs the last few months, you may know that I talk about my suicidality a lot. It’s such a hard decision that can’t be taken lightly. Ambivalence is always the deciding factor. I think the statistics for suicide would be a lot higher if people weren’t ambivalent about taking their lives, mine included. Sometimes suicide is a rash decision. But for those with chronic suicidality, it really is based on being ambivalent and hopeful or hopeless about things that either keep you alive or make you want to take your life. With me, appointments with my therapist, as much as she pisses me off, gives me a kind of hope to make it through the day or the week. My psychiatrist is the same because I know she cares about me deeply. We have been working together for more than 20 years so I hope she does care about me after all this time. Next year will be our 25th anniversary. Hard to believe. That is if I am able to make it through the next month or so. Things are not looking good so far. I know I have said this a few times over the last few months and I am still here. One day, I will make good on my promise to end my life, or at least try to. It’s a tricky business trying to kill a human being. I have learned my lesson over the years. You would think that would stop my suicidal tendencies but it hasn’t. I guess I am just destined to dream of killing myself and hope one day it comes true.

Case of the Mondays

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, mental disorders, mental illness, mood disorders, psychosis

I hardly slept last night, which is getting to be my routine. my mother woke me up when she got up and then my alarm went off. I didn’t want to get out of bed. I wanted to leave the house by 0830 but by the time the sheets and blankets stopped holding me hostage, it was 0835. crap. I quickly got dressed and ran to the bus stop. luckily I didn’t have to wait long.
The trains were severely delayed due to a medical emergency at one of the stops. I waited for 5 trains and they were all full. by the time the 5th train rolled into the station, I was supposed to be at my appointment. I said fuck this and took the bus to the Square. I had my espresso and breakfast. I was really tired but by the time I finished my sandwich, I missed the bus. Just my luck. I had to wait an hour for the next one. 

I decided to write in my journal but didn’t get too far. I guess CBT is not meant for me. I texted my therapist about the delays and missing my appointment. I also texted her that I was canceling our appointments this week. I haven’t heard back from her so I hope she isn’t avoiding me. she likes to play games with our times. drives me crazy.

I came home and my mother was watching TV really loud. I have been trying to sleep but my mother is making it impossible. She is baking and watching TV in the kitchen with the volume at full blast. I took some pain meds because the brace I had on made my ankle hurt and it still is smarting from last night, plus all the standing I did at the station didn’t help. 

I’ve been reading twitter since I came home. the delays from this morning are finally clear. Figures. I really want to nap. Meds are making me drowsy so maybe I will. I just need to block out the noise in the kitchen.Least there isn’t construction going on today. I would really lose it.

For the Love of Espresso

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

For the Love of Espresso

Yesterday, I made coffee at home and when I poured the half and half, there was shit on top. I asked my mother if it was fine and she said it was “cream”. Coffee tasted okay and I didn’t die as I am living to tell the story. Today, the curdling was worse and I wasted a cup of coffee. I was pissed because the half and half was a new quart that hadn’t been opened yet and had an expiration of Dec 21. I had a Neurontin hangover and I desperately needed coffee. But it was Sunday and there were no direct buses to the Square. I just missed the bus going near the Square, which pissed me off more. I had to wait an hour for the next one. I decided to sojourn in the opposite direction and take the trek to Station Landing, where there was a Starbucks.

I decided just to bring my book with me because I didn’t want to carry anything heavy as that would make the long walk more strenuous. I was feeling pretty good so it wasn’t much difficulty getting to my happy place. I stayed for an hour after having a sandwich and my much desired drink. I read to the point where Lincoln is elected president, South Carolina secedes from the Union and the Lincoln family enters the White House, along with Hay and Nicholay in tow.

It took me fifteen minutes to get back to the train station and to my stop. Not bad for someone who is disabled. Though by the time I was waiting for the bus home, my ankle was starting to throb and increased by the time I got home. I took a pain pill soon as I got into my room. My sister had invited us for dinner and I was just in time. I was kind of hungry from my travels so the timing was perfect. I had half a glass of wine before I realized I had just taken a pain pill. OOPS. I hope it doesn’t cause drowsiness because I don’t want to fall asleep this early. Last night I fought against the drowsiness and couldn’t sleep until nearly 0300. Anxiety from possible pain kept me awake. It was terrible.

I have my first session of CBT tomorrow. I am really nervous as I am more psychodynamic than a cognitive person. To me, this therapy is rigid and I don’t like rigid but, unfortunately, all the current research has lead to say this form of therapy helps those with chronic health conditions so I am giving it a shot against my better judgement. I hope the therapist is willing to work with me and not against me, with the “I know better” attitude. I will be out the door so fast if this is the case. I also hope that the therapist allows my therapist and I to work while doing this as an adjunctive thing. I have mixed feelings about this therapy and the process. I hope it will be a brief therapy, with kind of a relapse therapy sessions available if needed kind of thing. AND it MUST focus more on my pain issues than my depression as the pain is more debilitating me than the depression right now. I also hope the therapist isn’t going to freak out when she finds out about my suicidality. That is another element I am afraid of, being turned down because I am “too sick” for therapy. I don’t know if this therapist is on the up that CBT can actually help suicidal thinking as well. I really hope I don’t have to be the professor either. She is a resident, not a full fledged therapist so we’ll see. If I have to resort to being a suicidologist to her, I will. I have a full library on the subject so I think I know what the hell I am talking about. I just wish I had the time to read Craig Bryan’s book about CBT in suicidality. Damn depression. Maybe I will take it with me and show it to her so to give her background that this isn’t my first therapist and won’t be my last that I have to “train”.

I had to further aggravate my ankle/foot by going downstairs again because I had to use the bathroom. I don’t know who’s brilliant idea it was to have bedrooms upstairs without at least a half bath. Sure it would make the bedrooms smaller but it would be a life saver!

Editing nightmare, writing, and other things

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

Editing nightmare, writing, and other things

Earlier this week when I was editing, I noticed that one story had given each paragraph its own page. I fixed it and thought that would be it. Tonight, I went to the next story and there was a similar error. I went to the next and found the same error. I panicked. I knew what I had to do to fix it but it was a lengthy process and would take some time and effort to sort through. It was more than 50 pages of work to sort. I had nothing better to do so cut and pasted I did. I fixed the book and in doing so, “lost” 20 pages. I am up to 125, without edits as I still haven’t inputted them but at least there are no formatting errors, least none that I can see right now.

Because I thought I was up to at least 150 pages of work after putting in some dedication and acknowledgement pages, I figured I could publish the book. Now I can’t because it’s too short for my taste. I really would like to get it up to 200 pages, minimum. It’s probably going to take me another six months or so to get another 75 pages written. I am so disappointed. So close yet no cigar.

My mother annoyed me tonight. I told her I was in pain and she said “well you are going up and down the stairs alright”. WTF She doesn’t fucking get it. The other day when my sister was here she was telling her that I go down the stairs “carefully”. But she said it in a mocking voice. I just can’t win with her. Tomorrow she wants me to clean the stairs, both flights. I will clean the bottom stairs first as those haven’t been done in quite a while. Then we’ll see about the other flight.

I just took a strong pain pill because I couldn’t stand the throbbing in my ankle anymore and the regular pain pills aren’t working. I hope I am not up every fricken two hours. I am really tired. It’s funny, when I want to sleep I can’t and when I need sleep, I do. There is no medium. I know part of it is my fault because I am on my bed most of the time so when I feel the need to lie down, I do and usually sleep, no matter what time of day it is. A sleep doc would have a complete fit if he knew my sleeping habits or lack there of.

It’s extremely windy and it is shaking the house. It kind of scares me because I fear the house will fall in. I know it won’t, sort of, but it still scares me when the house shakes. I hope the wind dies down by the end of the night. I don’t need anxiety on top of pain to keep me up. That just isn’t a good combination.

I talked with my aunt tonight. It didn’t go well. She didn’t know who I was and then started crying. It broke my heart. She wanted me to visit her. I wish I had a car to see her but I don’t. I would have to go by public transportation and it’s a pain because I would have to take two trains and a bus to get to her house. It would be worth it to see her though. I miss her terribly. She is the last surviving sibling in the US on my father’s side. I have one uncle in France but he has dementia and is not doing too well. I don’t talk to him because of the language barrier. He doesn’t speak English and I don’t speak French or Italian.