Tag: chronic pain

A Harrowing Day

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

A Harrowing Day

Since early this morning, before I actually woke up, my phone was going off with text messages. Apparently, the bus that I take was having problems. It was late, real late. So instead of waiting till my appointed time that I was going to take the bus, I decided to catch an earlier one. Soon as I hit the square, there was traffic galore. No wonder the bus was late. I thought the problems cleared up by the time I finished with my appointment but it didn’t. It was ten minutes late and there was an elderly gentlemen with severe arthritis that couldn’t get off the bus at his stop without assistance. I have seen this gentleman before and it’s painful to hear him groan at every move. I feel for him as I know what that is like. This caused the bus to be further delayed while other passengers were helping the man off the bus. I don’t understand why he travels alone. He should have someone with him.

My appointment went well. I met with my psychiatrist and couldn’t help but cry a little. At one point, I thought I was surely going to breakdown but I didn’t. We were talking about how depressed I am about the TG stuff and how my writing is affected by the depression. I also told her my taste buds are off. She sympathized with me because I can’t drink my coffee without it tasting like crap. Everything tastes off. Even the Doritos I had with my lunch didn’t taste right, and they were the spicy kind. I am very depressed and get annoyed quickly.

I finally got in contact with the buyer of my Otterbox. She still has not received it so I told her it is at a post office in her area. I gave her the tracking number so she can track it. I should have used UPS or something and will next time. The Post office is just not reliable.

I woke up in pain again this morning. I thought I would have to walk with a cane today, the pain is that bad. I took a pain pill when I came home because while going to CVS, I misjudged a step and my foot came down hard on the street. That hurt! I still need to pick up my niece but not for another hour and a half from now. I hope the pain settles down some. It is the same type of pain that I have been having the last three days. My psychiatrist asked me about my physical pain and I told her it has been fine so far, not causing me psychological trouble like it usually does. But I fear that if this continues, it might cause me problems. I forgot to tell her I made an appointment with the physiatrist. I’ll be seeing her next week so I will tell her then. She said she wishes she had a magic wand to help me. I was comforted by that. It just kills me that my heart is being torn in two, one for good, the other for death. I told her that I am trying to stay away from plans and stuff but it’s difficult as I already picked out a date. I still want to try my idea, but I didn’t tell her that. She asked if I would be okay for me to walk out of her office. Took me a couple minutes to respond to that. I felt like telling her my idea, but I held back. I see Bozo next week so we will be talking. She also wants me to keep her in the loop more, not just for my writing. I told her ok. Now I know she is worried about me.

Last night I wrote something that I will be blogging soon. It is about the love/hate relationships of therapy. I would have finished it last night (I hand wrote it) but I got too sleepy. I was exhausted from dealing with my father yesterday. I slept pretty good, until my phone kept beeping. I should have shut the ringer off last night but I don’t think of it. Course, I wasn’t expecting 12 text messages from the T either (public transportation system).

Last night I was telling my therapist that I am going to nix the “Darkness” story. I don’t think I can publish it knowing it is so depressing. It’s one thing to publish it on my blog, but a book? Who would want to read it?? I don’t know what to do. My therapist says to leave it and I told her that I am sending her the link to the blog so she can judge it. And she has to judge it as unbiasly as possible. I can never get her to be critical of my work. Course, anyone that reads this book/blog never judges me critically. Maybe it’s me that is judging. I don’t know, it’s just frustrating that I am horrified by my own writing!

What A Day!

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

I woke up in pain, which is the first time in as many days. I haven’t been in pain in the morning in a long time. But it happened today and I could barely put weight on my foot while I was taking a shower and getting around the house to get ready for dealing with my father. I ended up taking a pain pill, something I usually don’t do when I have to go out, but the pain was so bad. I had to take something. I made myself some breakfast before leaving because I knew I would be at the hospital for most of the afternoon and will have a sugar crash around lunch time if I didn’t eat anything. That would be bad because I would become very cranky. I went to Starbucks and got my mocha, free as it was my reward. I had it loaded, with shots of caramel, hazelnut, and espresso (4). I needed the caffeine to get me through the day.

I spent most of the damn morning and afternoon dealing with my father. I had to endure his greedy stories about how bad my grandmother was to him and to her own family (not true by the way but he thinks it is). I couldn’t take the whole conversation, AGAIN. He has it in his mind that my mother’s family is living off the high horse (which they aren’t) and he has to scrape by, which he deserves because he is an asshole. I kept telling him I don’t care to listen to this bullshit (didn’t say that or I would not be living right now), but he kept talking away with such vengeance. I cannot stand him. I hate him. I really do. It stresses me out and all I wanted to do was get the fuck away from him. So much so that I nearly forgot to put one of his medications in his box, so I had to go back to his apartment after I left. He just gets me so riled up it’s not funny.

While I we were waiting for the doc, who of course was running late, my therapist texted me with a time she had available. I really didn’t want a session today but after the stories and lies my father was telling me, I think I need it. Did I mention how much I hate my father? The doc gave us a six month appointment follow up. My father is telling everyone he gave him, “6 months” because he is doing so well. I had enough of his exaggerations. And I still have to deal with him on Father’s day. I was going to get him a gift but I think I will wait until I have money this week. What difference does it make if it’s a few days late? We are taking him out for dinner. I don’t know what the name of the place is called but it’s in my hometown that I grew up in. I don’t consider where I am living now to be my hometown and never will. I hate it here, but I can’t afford to live on my own so I just suck it up.

It was cold when I left the house so I dressed appropriately. Then the heat turned up and I was dying. It got really warm by 1400. I am in my AC’d room cooling down. I don’t care that it isn’t a heat wave, I just need cold air. Because the pain in my foot is still acting up, I made an appointment with my physiatrist (muscle and bone doctor). I think something is going on with either the tendon or with my toes. Whatever it is, I am in serious pain. But I have no swelling, which is odd. Usually I only get foot pain if my foot swells, but it’s not swollen. Damn nerve damage has really fucked me over. I would see my PCP but I know he is just going to refer me to the physiatrist. It just sucks that I am having a hard time getting around today. I don’t have anything to do the rest of the afternoon so I am just putting my foot up on my bed and going to wait till the pain meds kick in. I have thought of moving it along faster by drinking alcohol but I don’t think my therapist or psychiatrist would approve. Honey whiskey from Jack Daniels will have to wait another day.

While I was at Starbucks this morning, I did some writing, but no editing. It was way too early and I didn’t have the brain power to do it. So I just wrote in my journal for an hour. I was tempted to get a breakfast sandwich but my funds are running low so I have to be skimpy. I have a 0930 appointment tomorrow with my psychiatrist so I need coffee more than a sandwich. I think I will have the same drink I had today. It was very good! I love my snickers latte.

I forgot to mail my therapist her letter, again. I totally forgot about it until I was at the bus stop. Figures. It’s just about the book review that I wrote, nothing else. WOW, I cannot believe the throbbing of my toes right now. It’s like someone is hammering each bone in my foot. I feel really nerve wracked about this. I hate being in pain and I have been most of the day. I had to walk to my father’s pharmacy to pick up his prescription and then walk to his apartment complex. The doctor just wrote for a week’s supply, which I am not happy about. I called and left a message as that is just not good practice. If it was his cholesterol pill, fine, but it’s his heart medication that controls his heart rhythm. My father has afib so kind of needs this medication. And I hate that I would have to call back next week for yet another refill because this asshole is an asshole. My father doesn’t have an appointment with him till the 30th. He could have written the script until that day, which is two weeks away. I just get frustrated with this doctor. He is always in a rush, writes shit while not talking to you, flips through papers while trying to talk to you, and I just get annoyed. He thinks I am going to jump ship to his system, he is crazy. All my father’s doctors are at the hospital I took him to today and that is where he is going to stay. I am not going to switch him to the worst hospital in Boston because that is where this jerk practices out of. Not while I have a say over my father’s medical care, and my sisters are behind me on this. It’s just sad that I can’t get a PCP at the hospital where I take him. If I worked there, I would know who to call but I don’t anymore.

What the fuck is it with my parents annoying me today?? I know I am in pain and that doesn’t help but fucking A. My mother just called about dinner and was being snotty about it because I didn’t want eggs. UGH! I need to get the fuck away from them, I really do!

More Suicidal Ramblings

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

Tonight I was going through my blogs and came across one called “Am I still a Midnight Demon”? I remember writing that one because at the time, I was writing during the day, not at my usual midnight hours. The time had shifted because I was sleeping regularly and wasn’t so suicidal.

Now my sleep is messed up and I am again thinking about taking my life. I have been thinking about this plan for a long time now. But as much as I want to go through with this date, this time, I just can’t. I cannot take my life because I am stuck here. I would hurt too many people, those around me, those far away from me, people I don’t even know that well. So I am writing because my heart is dark. I recently took a “Rorschach” type of test on the internet. It said that I was dark. My aunt had used that term after she read my book. We were supposed to get together for a chat but we never did. Typical of my family. They always make these plans on getting together but never follow through. No matter. The chat might have caused me to feel bad and I would have hated that. She would be one of the people that would have been hurt the most by my death.

I recently did a google search for a former therapist so I could send her my book and give her a little update on where I was. If she contacted me, and I was dead, that would so suck. I am not expecting her to contact me, but you never know. I hope she remembers who I am. I spent three years of therapy with her so I hope she does remember me.

I really feel at a loss. If I don’t go ahead with my plan, I will be forced to “live” and I don’t quite know what that means. I have been struggling with death for so long that I really don’t know any other way to live. My life, to me, feels worthless. I don’t have a future. Hell I can’t even imagine what will happen tomorrow and that will be happening in the next few hours. I know my sleeping problem is part of the reason I am depressed. I tried to convey this to my psychiatrist at my last meeting but I think I just made light of it and it wasn’t heard. I often say that I am depressed but really don’t tell her how bad things are. I still have appetite issues, even though I haven’t lost or gained any weight. I think my on/off appetite makes up for it. The caloric intake that I have equals itself out on my eating and not eating days, I guess. I feel useless, worthless, full of guilt at times. And you can’t forget about the psychache. Tonight I have had to take deep breaths trying to dislodge the heaviness in my chest. It’s like a heavy coat that I always carry but no one sees. I wish my psych had some magic pill I could take to make it go away but she doesn’t. Her hands are tied because I am such a fucking treatment resistant case. No pill has worked to alleviate my depression, successfully, for a long time. It was remeron that saved me last summer but I don’t think it is working anymore. Hell, I want to give up all my psych meds except my abilify and Ativan. But I know that if I do, I will just feel worse and might be impulsive enough to try and attempt suicide. I need to stay on the abilfy to keep the voices and other psychotic symptoms away. The Ativan I just need to take with the abilify to keep the side effects away. I also need the Ativan to keep the crazies away when I need sleep. It helps to shut my brain down enough so I can go to sleep when I am hyped up, for whatever reason. I don’t get hyped up too often at night but sometimes when it’s after 0200, I need the shut down. Otherwise, I might be up all night. The “crazies” are when the thoughts that are ruminating and I can’t turn them off. I often don’t know what to with myself.

I often think about what my death would bring. If people would be better off without me in this world. I sometimes feel like I am a burden to all that I touch. I hate living this life feeling this way. Nothing makes me happy or brings me joy. I always feel discontented all the time. The only thing that I value in my life is my writing, which sometimes I feel is useless ramblings. I got the brilliant idea of collecting these ramblings and making another book out of them. But then I thought, who wants to read about my suicidal feelings? It’s one thing to post this to the internet. It’s free. But having a book means someone has to pay to read it and not that many people would, I think. My words are meaningless.

I just started a book about shame and perfectionism. It’s a self-help book that deals with insights into what is causing shame. Author has ADHD. She talks in circles and it’s hard to follow her. I don’t know if I am going to get anything from this book but I have learned what has caused my anxiety with the few pages that I have read. I never had anxiety until I moved into the town I currently live in. And it’s because of change I get anxiety. Having a chronic pain illness changes you and I have anxiety because I never know when that pain is going to shoot up. The author doesn’t talk about suicide or suicidal thoughts. My guess is she veered away from that as much as possible. I seriously doubt that in the 20 years she has been practicing, no one has been suicidal at times. But then she doesn’t know me. She doesn’t know that part of the reason I want to end my life is because I cannot take the physical pain I feel nearly every day. Tonight the pain is way up there despite taking my pain medication. I might have to take the stronger pill to quiet it down. I just never know when and if the pain meds are going to work. The pain is from nerve damage that caused a pain syndrome. Most of the pain is physical because the pain meds usually do work but tonight I am feeling different kinds of pain all at once. And it is shooting up my heart rate causing me to feel panic. I think that I might get something known as Cauda Equina Syndrome again and it sets off my post traumatic stress disorder symptoms nearly every time. This change is what causes me to panic. I might not have a full blown anxiety attack but I feel really nerve racked. I try different things to get the pain under control besides medication. I write, I distract, I listen to music. I even talk to my “normal” voices. Sometimes that helps. Not every time, but it helps the anxiety more than the pain flare up. I don’t know if the anxiety that I feel jacks up my pain levels or vice versa. It’s hard to tell. I just know that since I developed this pain syndrome, my life has changed and it hasn’t been for the better. Another reason why I want to take my life. I just want the pain to end and if that means my life has to end, too, well so be it.

Another thing this author talks about is dignity. She states that it can never be taken away because no one can take it from you. How wrong she is. My dignity has hurt in so many ways from my pain illness it’s not funny. I have bladder and bowel accidents. Every time I crap my pants it hurts. My dignity takes a hit. It takes me days to recover from this. My bladder has leaked more over the last few months and I am so used to it that it doesn’t really bother me as much anymore. It’s still in the back of my mind, but it still reminds me that I am not a “whole” person anymore. Those days are gone, long, long gone. I have been dealing with this loss for nine years now. I wish I could say that it gets easier but it doesn’t. The smell always reminds you that you are not a fully functioning person anymore. I used to wear diapers when I went out for more than four hours. But now I don’t. It depresses me more when I take the diaper off and I have urine stains on the it. I don’t realize I leak because I can’t feel myself due to a nerve injury to my cauda equina nerves. They are the nerves in your back and control all the functions below the waist. I usually don’t drink enough fluids throughout the day because the more you drink, the more you got to pee. But some days I am just so thirsty that I need to drink, especially now that summer is approaching. It just sucks.

Writing Bug and Suicidal Risk

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

Writing bug and Suicide Risk

I have the insatiable need to write. I thought about journaling but I don’t feel like entering my thoughts in a private journal. What I have to say is too important. It is about my suicidal feelings. I am torn, really torn, about what to do with them. I am in no danger tonight. But I picked a date and that date is slowly approaching. I have been trying not to think about it but it’s in the back of my head. I keep thinking/telling myself I don’t have to go through with this. That I can make it through. A friend of mine would be crushed without my help. And would be devastated with my loss. I can’t help but feel trapped. Like I can’t take my life because people need me to be here and I don’t want to be here any more. It’s a struggle I have been dealing with for years. I am tired of fighting this. I just want to give in to my thoughts, to not exist anymore. It’s painful to breathe. I am tired of the heaviness on my chest and the accompanying chest pains that magically appear and disappear on their own. Sometimes an Ativan is needed to get rid of these pains. I know it’s my anxiety when the pain goes away and the heaviness lessens.

Right now I feel like I am a burden to myself. I almost told my therapist today that I don’t want to meet twice a week anymore. I know she wouldn’t approve. She knows I have a date but I have not given it to her. I just can’t because I know she will try and stop me. It’s not like she is going to be okay with me dying by suicide. No therapist will. Then I have the agony of sending a copy of my book to a former therapist. If I send it now and she tries to get in touch with me after I die, I know the book was written in vain. Some writer I am. I write how much this process has helped me, how CAMS has helped me and then I kill myself? Good going. It just doesn’t make sense. I am afraid. I am afraid of getting older and I don’t want to live because I never wanted to be an adult. But my support system kept on telling me I was worth it and I believed them. So I am still here today.

I know one day I will end my life by my own hand. It is written in the statistics of suicide research. I fit every model. I am high risk because I have attempted multiple times, I have an abuse history, I am transgender, and I am hopelessly depressed. All these factors are not good in assessing suicide risk. The only thing I have not done is give away my most prized possessions. Though I really don’t have any. I have my suicide library that I value dearly but it hasn’t helped me deal with my suicide thoughts. I have not been cured of them and as one person in my life has said, I never will. I will always have these thoughts of ending my life. But do I have to act on them? Should I just let them fester until they boil over? I don’t know. Right now I am calm. I am just going through the motions of life as if I were living without thinking of taking my life. No one knows except my therapist and psychiatrist. (And now the blogosphere.) I really want to end my life yet I still want something from it. What I want, I don’t know what that is. I would love to complete my degree but I don’t have the money for it. I don’t even know if the stress of school will activate my paranoia and psychosis again. I do want to write another book. But I have no ideas. They are few and far between. Then I think I should go back to the hospital where I will be safe and possibly be able to think of something to write. But why bother with that if I just want to end my life in a month and a half or so. I am so torn. Ambivalence is such a bitch. And it’s not like you can do a pro/con thing when contemplating ending your life. Every time I do it, I seem to have more pros than cons. There are reasons why I want to end my life. I don’t want to be in chronic physical pain anymore. I don’t want to have psychache. I don’t want to live because I just can’t tolerate my self hate. I can’t tolerate being a woman when my brain keeps telling me I am a man. And the only reason I have not gone through with transition is because my mother won’t accept me as a man. So I rather die as her daughter than her son. I have nothing else to live for. I am only alive to keep my therapist and family happy. They know my suffering. I guess they rather see me suffer than to be dead. I have been fighting this depression for a really long time. I have been suicidal since I was eight. I first attempted when I was ten. That was thirty years ago. I think that is a long time to suffer from a depression that defies treatment. No pill alleviates my suffering and I have been on many. I am just a hopeless case.

I thought about sending this to my therapist but I am not going to. It is written by me and not my alter, Hyde. I am very tired but I am not in pain, least not physically. My brain just wouldn’t shut off until I wrote this stuff out. Now I am feeling sleepy and I think I can call it a night. These suicidal thoughts that come out are my midnight demons. They come out after midnight and I am truly in their grip. My heart is heavy and there is nothing I can take to make it light. My world is dark and gray. It has been like this for a very long time.