Hurting Really Bad

Hurting really bad

I went out to have dinner with my friend. I am paying the price because I was standing/walking too long while waiting for him. I was early and I was hot as I got stuck on a warm train so I didn’t go into the restaurant to sit and wait for him. I was at my boiling point and really wanted to take off not only my jacket but also my sweater and be just in a t-shirt. I felt funny going to that level and didn’t go there. But the pain that I am feeling right now, I don’t want to go out the rest of the week. Unfortunately I have to and that is killing me. I don’t have to go out tomorrow so I am having a rest day. I am doing two, possibly three things tomorrow: having therapy, calling my father to remind him of his appointment, and possibly call the dentist if I remember. I need a cleaning as it’s been almost two years. I hate the dentist.

Like I thought, my therapy appointment went by so fast and we talked a lot about everything that went on between last Wednesday and today. She does think I had some kind of withdrawal thing going on, though it isn’t too clear because I also didn’t eat and it could have been hypoglycemia as well. We talked about the SSD review that I am under. If she doesn’t think I should add something more to what I already wrote, then I will mail it Thursday when I am out and about again. I am not looking forward to it. I hope that my father doesn’t need a damn wheelchair because I might just run him over with it. I also need to go to his house after his medical appointment to do his fucking meds. I had a hard time filling my meds this week. I just was too depressed to fill it for the week. So I played hodgepodge. I just took what I felt like taking but I filled it before I left the house to have dinner with my friend.

I had a nice time out. It’s a shame that it ended with my ankle flaring up. Right now the pain is at an 8/9 on a scale of 1-10, 10 being the worst pain. If it goes up a notch or two, I am going to have to take the strong pain pill again. If I do, I can kiss having a BM this week goodbye. I just will be too constipated. Hate this side effect of my pain meds. Having a BM is so painful, sometimes I just want to die because it hurts so bad. Add in being constipated and hard stools and I really want to kill myself.

Saturday Blog 37

Saturday Blog 37

I got my haircut today. It’s a little shorter than I usually get it but I like it. It’s totally a military cut. My mother is going to fucking flip when she see me. So far I haven’t seen her yet. I need to take a shower to get the excess hair off me before I start itching. I really don’t want to shower but I need to.

My night went okay. I slept pretty good, until about 0640. I woke up in pain so had to take some pain meds. When I woke up, I was still in pain. Found out it was raining so that is the reason for my pain. I hurt every time it rains. I checked the status of my pain meds and found it still wasn’t ready to be picked up. I thought that was kind of odd so called the pharmacy. The pharmacy changed their policy for long term opioid use and needs a damn diagnosis code from the doctor in order to process the order. It’s the damn weekend and they closed early yesterday so I am screwed till Monday. Just fucking great. I still have enough pills to get me through until Monday but still, the aggravation of not getting my pills on time kills me. I also had a bad dream where someone picked up my meds so I was screwed. The terror of this happening was so real it woke me up. I had a mini anxiety attack. But it didn’t happen. I know people where there does happen. And it’s totally the pharmacy’s fault for not giving it to the right person, in my opinion. Now I need to make sure my doc writes down the diagnosis code on my script when I get it filled. I am so angry that I have to wait because of a technicality.

I don’t know if I will be going to the party tonight. It’s at 1800. I hate late parties. If my ankle isn’t better, I am not going. I am not going to stay at a party and put on a “happy” face while I am in pain. Just walking to the barber shop and back hurt, and it was literally just a block and a half from my house. I hate not being able to walk this distance without pain.

My Amazon stuff that I ordered came in. I have my Combos snacks, a couple of movies, and a couple of books. One is the Outsiders which I haven’t read since I was a kid. I love the movie and the book. I love all of S.E. Hinton’s books. I follow her on Twitter, too. She is an amazing person. But before I can read this new book, I have to finish the other book I started on the Civil War.

I bought a book about suicide risk management. I bought it because it has the paper that I wanted by someone and now I can’t remember what the paper or the author was called. Looking through the chapters didn’t jog my memory. I will have to read the last paper I read and see if that stirs up the memory. I got it cheap, only $5 and it was the last copy on Amazon.

After the attack on that Planned Parenthood place, I really don’t think America has to worry about outside terrorists. They just have to worry about its own citizens causing the terror and shooting up places. And the more that nothing gets done about these attacks, the more it’s going to get the Americans jaded to it as it’s becoming more common than not. Aliens have nothing to do with the American people. They are just gun loving. They also don’t seek power like the aliens do. They just shoot up a place and then usually die by cop. I really think it’s going to take a senator or congressperson’s son or daughter to get killed in these attacks in order for change to occur. Until then, it’s going to happen randomly across America. I know I will stay home more because as much as I am suicidal, that is not how I want to go.

Pain in the thigh and other things

Pain in the thigh and other things

I still feel low and in the dumps. As expected, my therapist told me all the reasons why I should be living. She even wants me to publish the blog I wrote last night. I don’t know why. I don’t think it’s any good. But then, it has so many hits today that it must be good. People don’t read something bad. I just feel like I am wasting my time living and all I can do is express myself the best I know how.

I did the errand for my father. I was walking with a cane because my leg is not feeling so good. I had twitches last night and it left it sore as hell. I can barely walk. He laughed when he saw me with the cane. That is my father for you. He only cares about himself and that is all. I feel worse after my excursion to his house and back. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just know I really didn’t want to go to his place tomorrow so I did it today. Now I am hurting more and all I want to do is take my pain meds and go to sleep.

Groceries came today. Putting them away was the start of my agony. I was walking all over the house putting the groceries here and there where they belonged. The fridge was full so I had limited space to put my refrigerated items. I got “permission” to eat my pumpkin pie as my sister is making one. I think that will be my dinner. I was going to make my steak but I don’t feel like cooking. I haven’t eaten too much today. I had a yogurt, some cottage cheese, and a pop tart. Now I feel like puking. I don’t even think I am going to go over my sister’s for Thanksgiving tomorrow. I really don’t want to be around anyone. I am just feeling so miserable.

This thigh pain that I am feeling really scared me. It reminded me about the time nine years ago I had my surgery. It took months to get it back to functioning. My therapist called it PTSD as I had an anxiety attack about an hour and a half before our session. The pain was so bad that it just caused anxiety for me. I told her about my feelings last night where I wanted to drink alcohol after I took my night meds. I thought better of it as whiskey and baclofen probably would not be a good idea. I hadn’t taken any pain meds because I wasn’t in any pain. I just had this twitching going on. I emailed my psychiatrist but I haven’t heard back from her. I also emailed her my story. I did take some Ativan too to stop the damn twitching after it went on for about two and half hours. I am so sick of worrying whether I am going to get cauda equina syndrome again or not. Every time I have some weird pain in my leg, I freak out and panic. I have been on edge all day. But the pain isn’t radiating and it’s not affecting my bowels or bladder. I have to go through a checklist every single time I get pain in my leg or back. If I don’t have this then I don’t have that. It’s awful. That is why I can never recover from PTSD. I am always triggered.

My heaviness in my heart is still there. The fact that I have found a song that equates my feelings perfectly helps. Jennifer Nettles just came out with a new song called “unlove you”. It’s another good sad song. But it doesn’t touch me as much as “Mixed Drinks about Feelings”. My therapist today was quiet most of the time. She really wanted to listen to me today though she wanted to go off on me. I don’t think she can tolerate my sadness. It brings her to want to do something to help me but there is nothing that she can do. Listening to her when she did speak did help me. It gave me some hope that there might be a tomorrow. I can’t tolerate today. It’s too painful.

A childhood friend of mine posted a meme about transgender. It was something like we shouldn’t make processed foods so why should we have processed people, meaning transgenders. It was that most offensive thing I have ever seen. I stopped following him. He has been irritating me for a while now and now I have to unfollow him because of his ignorance. This is part of the reason why I don’t seek treatment. I am too afraid of the discrimination I will face.

Love of Cousins

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Love of cousins

Yesterday, I went over my cousins that I haven’t seen in a long time. Usually we see each other for special birthdays or some other special occasion. We don’t see each other often enough. One of my cousins gave me a special gift yesterday. I am now the owner of a replica World Series ring of the 2013 Boston Red Sox! I am wearing it as I type this. It is heavy. But I love it just the same. I nearly had a coronary in the car when my cousin gave me the ring. She knows I love the Red Sox very much. I have more Red Sox things than I have any other Boston sports team. I own just one Patriots hat. I lost interest in the Celtics when Larry Bird retired (more than twenty years ago) and I don’t care for hockey. All I know about the Bruins is what I read on Twitter or Facebook. But the Sox to me are special. I have been a fan since I was a little kid and that hasn’t changed. Even when they suck, I still love them. My cousin knows this. I will always treasure this gift. I might not wear it publicly, only because it is huge and heavy, but I will wear it in the house.

I slept late today, a rarity. I woke up around 0530 and miraculously, I was able to get back to sleep around 0600. Yesterday was a difficult for me, mostly last night. I feel like I am a failure in my mother’s eyes because I don’t do much around the house. I would try but I know that it hurts so I don’t. My mother telling my cousin that I was basically a lazy ass did not sit well with me. My cousin wasn’t judging me at all. She knows that I suffer from chronic pain and she knows a little something about it because she has fibro.

Last night I was in bad shape. My mother got me very upset. I think between the sleep deprivation and being up all day, I was more vulnerable to her attacks. Normally she doesn’t get under my skin. I really wanted to die last night. I even thought of going in the hospital just to get away from her. But I feel now that will be giving in to her suspicions that I am not well. And that will infuriate her. She doesn’t get my mental illness at all. She thinks I should just let things roll off my back or not think about things. Even more damaging, she thinks I should “talk” to her. I tried talking to her when I was 10 and suicidal. I got no response. So why should I try talking to her now? She doesn’t understand my pain, my depressions, my insomnia. None of it. Hell, she didn’t even want to read my book that I wrote. I don’t even know if she read the New York Times article I wrote. If that isn’t a shun, I don’t know what is.

I need to go to Walgreens to pick up my prescription today. I really don’t feel like leaving the house. It’s cold, damp, and raw outside. Of course, what do you expect in November? The days of it being warm are over. I am not in pain at the moment. But I am afraid that if I walk to and back might cause my ankle to hate me. I really need to get PJs that I can also wear outside. I have sweat pants but it’s the idea of getting dressed that stresses me out. I hate the indecision of picking something to wear, of which socks to wear. I am glad I only have one good pair of sneakers otherwise I doubt I would never leave the house. I would never decide which pair to choose from. Some days it’s easier to just throw something on and leave the house. But days like today, I am dreading it. I just want to listen to Adele and Eric Church and just stay under the covers.

My menses are slowing down. I am going to ask the pharmacist, if I do go to Walgreens, if I can restart the pack today. Course, that will mean I have four pills that I just am not using. I never should have stopped mid-week but I had no choice. I really didn’t want two weeks of bleeding. Just talking about this makes me feel so low. I feel so degraded. I know no woman looks forward to that time of the month but it’s different when you are transgender. I have put up with so much. I just wish I was dead so I don’t have to deal with this at all anymore. I feel so alone. Other than my blog, there is no one I can really “bitch” to about this. I know that this particular mense breakthrough has caused increased suicidality more so than at any other time. It’s just so difficult. Other than my sisters, I haven’t really told a “real” person about my TG. My therapist and my psychiatrist know but they are not people I see every day. But then, there are no people that I see everyday other than my family. I feel so isolated. I know part of it is my own doing. I don’t reach out to people. I could blame my paranoia, especially now as things have kicked up a notch since the Paris attacks. I just don’t feel safe anymore. And I don’t even think being on a locked ward of a hospital will help.