Tag: chronic pain

Cold Day, Visiting Friends

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

Cold day visiting friends

I went out today to visit some friends I hadn’t seen in a while. I thought the visit went well. We shared some laughs, some good food. But when I came home, my ankle was swollen then the pain started and I haven’t been able to hold it back. I just took my pain meds with my night meds so hopefully that will work. It is really cold in my room for some reason, but warm in the rest of the house. I don’t know why this is. It is about only twenty degrees out. I froze my butt off waiting for the bus ride home. I just put on a sweatshirt and flannel pajamas for warmth. I really want to go to bed but thought I would write a little bit before turning in.

Despite going to two places to try and write, I got nothing written. I am so disappointed. I have the ideas circling but they just won’t come out. It is so frustrating. I think I am putting pressure on myself in trying to write this “thing”, but I know once I start working on it, I will feel better. My brain feels cooped up and if I don’t let it out, I might go crazy. I’m going to try tomorrow to write in my comfort zone, my bed, and see how that goes. I don’t know what else to do. Every time I close my eyes, words are there waiting to get plucked out. But soon as I see a blank page of paper or screen, poof, they are gone! My writing partner would say work on something else and then it will come to me. But I have tried that and it hasn’t helped me. I am getting frustrated and wish my therapist was here so we can talk about it. More so, I wish my psychiatrist was back in the office so I can SEE her. I emailed her yesterday but have not heard back. I am so frustrated with her too but there is nothing I can do about it. She has a broken hip and broken bones take time to heal.

I don’t talk with my therapist until next week. She is on vacation. I hate it when therapists are on vacations! I just need someone to talk to about my writing. My psychiatrist was always good in listening to me when I was writing a paper. She is always interested in what I write.

oh what a day

by Midnight Demon, posted in bipolar, blogging, cauda equina syndrome, depression

Oh what a day

My PCP was 25 minutes late. That started my day just perfectly. When he came in, the appointment commenced just as I predicted. He poked and prodded my ankle and toes. Told me I needed to lose weight. Said that my back was muscular in nature and then handed my prescription for my pain meds for the month. He also tested my urine as I told him it smelled really bad. I don’t know why. I hope I don’t have a UTI.

Next appointment, I was a half hour early but I had forms to fill out so that is what I did. Fill out the same forms that I filled out at the other PT place. Wish they would get their shit together. Appointment lasted just about ½ hour. There was some confusion on what treatment to pursue. She said she would try the ultrasound but I still need to do the strengthening exercises, but we’ll start slow. I told her which ones made me hurt more and she seems like she is willing to work with me. Better than the other idiot. I then go for aqua therapy when the “dry” therapy is over in four weeks. We should know by then what is helpful and what is not. I am feeling hopeless about the whole thing. But at least it gets me out of the house a couple of hours. She doesn’t know if she will be the one leading the aqua therapy or if it will be someone else. After the appointment, I got really frustrated because she did nothing but evaluate me. I have to wait until next week to actually do something. My back was not happy with the evaluation. Anytime I had to move, I hurt. I just feel like giving up. I don’t know what the point of all this is. My ankle is not going to get better. But I will go through all the rig a ma role to see if it does decrease my pain some.

It’s going to be nasty out tomorrow. But I am driving the 30 miles to see my therapist. I just hope the car has gas or I won’t be going anywhere. And that will really suck.

My mood has been up and down all day. I was really hungry when I came home from my appointments and found I couldn’t cook anything because my mother was baking. I nearly had a fit. I hadn’t eaten anything all day because I woke up late. Well, really, I woke up very early (3 am) and then went back to sleep around 5ish. I just couldn’t sleep. So around 0430, I took some Ativan and hoped that I wouldn’t sleep through my alarm. I woke up about a half hour before it went off. I had to take a shower and get ready. I didn’t want to get out of bed because the pain was bad and I was groggy from the short nap. I knew that what was going to happen. I hope it doesn’t happen tonight. I need to be out of the house around 9ish so I can be at my sister’s work by 10. All of this is dependent that my pain isn’t through the roof and the roads aren’t icy like they say they are going to be. I am not driving 30 miles in slush!

I feel awful. I am tired and my stomach keeps giving me mixed messages about whether or not it is going to hurl, all because my throat is dry. I haven’t had anything to drink except for my latte and some water at the doc’s office. I didn’t drink anything with my supper because I just didn’t feel like making something or getting a bottle of water. I think I would feel sicker if I drank something. The cough is giving me dry heaves, which is why I don’t want to drink anything. I know that a little stuff will come up and I don’t want that. Fucking cough is so damn stupid. I didn’t cough once while I was at the docs then when coming home, I couldn’t stop coughing. So annoying!!

I’m the Problem

by Midnight Demon, posted in chronic physical pain, depression, suicidality, suicide, suicide attempt survivor

I’m the problem

A few days ago, I got a comment on one of my blogs saying that my therapist isn’t the problem, I am. I was bullshit because how could I be the problem when my therapist was the one freaking out over my suicidality. Then I read my blog that was commented on. The commenter missed the point I was trying to get across and was blaming me for my problems because I wasn’t seeing things “her” way. I was “choosing” to stay depressed and suicidal rather than getting my shit together and moving forward. If only it was that easy.

It got me pretty upset. I have been trying to get a hold of my therapist to get her input. I know she is NOT going to blame me for my problems. The whole point of this blog might be kind of stupid but I can’t sleep and it is on my mind. And I know that I won’t be able to sleep until I get the thoughts out.

The fact of the matter is that I have a therapist that freaks out whenever I bring up my suicidal tendencies or thoughts about death. I find it isolating because I can’t talk about these feelings with her. How can I when she becomes so tense and flips out? I feel that therapy should be a place that you can talk about anything in the world that is bothering you. But suicidal thoughts are so taboo that it is difficult to engage in that kind of talk. I have been through this with my therapist for the past 10 years and it is always the same. She starts talking about things that have nothing to do with my suicidality and I am left feeling alone and helpless. So how am I the problem when I can’t talk about how I feel when I know it will be falling on deaf ears?

This commenter also brought out that I am irresponsible, “choosing” to spend my money on coffee and music rather than my bills, which is totally untrue. I can’t make ends meet because I am on limited income and have more bills than I can pay. So some months I buy coffee and my country music because I think I earned that right. I don’t skip a bill payment because I pay for it. It just means that I can’t get to eat out or pay for groceries. I think I am responsible enough to know what to pay for and what is frivolous. I have 5 bills I am responsible for every month and I pay them even though it leaves me with little left over for things like coffee and music. And I shouldn’t have to explain to the internet what I spend my money on. This commenter just has an assumption that is wrong, all because she thinks she is an expert in financial matters.

I use my coffee spending as a reward and my one joy in life. If that is too much for you Ms. Expert, go suck an egg. I am not going to stop spending a miniscule amount of money for coffee just because you think I am being a big spender. I wish I had the money to be a big spender but I don’t. I am on a fixed income every month and have to make do with what I have. I don’t work anymore because I have chronic pain and mental illness that requires at least two hospitalizations a year. But then, if you think that this is all bullshit, try a day in my shoes. I am sure you will topple over the first hour.

My suicidality makes me a “difficult” patient. No therapist wants to see their client die by suicide. No therapist wants to see their client hurting so bad they want to hurt themselves. It is a challenge to the mental health field. I have worked hard on this blog to tell my story and hope that it helps someone. After your bogus comments, I was questioning whether to continue. But fuck you and the horse you rode in on. I am not going to stop blogging because of your ignorance and high almighty attitude. People need to know what it is like living like this, and living through it, though it is difficult, extremely difficult at times. If you can’t understand it, stop reading my blog and go bother someone else.

pissed off therapy session

by Midnight Demon, posted in bipolar, blogging, chronic physical pain, depression

Pissed off therapy session

I took a nap before my therapy session which probably wasn’t the brightest idea in the book but oh well. I usually wake up just before session but this time I overslept and woke up to the phone ringing. Rats! I really wasn’t looking forward to talking to her today, especially after what “didn’t” get talk about yesterday.

I told her I didn’t see the point in seeing her and she told me this was a “place to process things”. I laughed. Really? Because that hasn’t happened in ages!! She dropped the issue and I didn’t want to pursue it anymore as I could feel my anger rising. I seriously don’t think she has a fucking clue as to how I am doing anymore. We spent the majority of the conversation talking about how many spoons are going to be spent dealing with my father over the next few days. That is all she seems to want to talk about lately: Spoons. “Spoons” is another word for energy spent on stuff. I got it from a lady with Lupus and you can read the article here. I thought that paper she wrote was typical of all that I go through on a daily basis, from getting dressed, to taking a shower, to making breakfast, etc.

Lately my “spoon” supply has been low and I guess dealing with my therapist just drains it lately. By mid session, I am wanting out of talking with her. I can’t stand 50 minute sessions with her anymore. They are driving me crazy when I don’t feel like talking. And I don’t feel like talking not because there is nothing to talk about, but because I am tired of the way therapy is. I thought that after a while, I would find therapy helpful and insightful. That it would bring meaning to my life but those are just fantasies that never get fulfilled. Granted the last 10 years have been tough with my suicidality and such. But you would think by now she would be used to it and handle it better. She doesn’t and it just makes me shut down. I feel more alone with every passing session because the one person in the world that should know me, doesn’t. I kept thinking about the Mockingbid song my Rob Thomas. The lyrics are stunningly close to how I feel about therapy. The Chorus is right on target:

Everybody else is smiling
Man, their smiles don’t fade
You don’t even wonder why
You just don’t think that way

Maybe you and me got lost somewhere
We can’t move on and we can’t stay here
Maybe we’ve just had enough
Well, maybe we ain’t meant for this love

You and me tried everything
But still that mockingbird won’t sing
Man this life seems hard enough
Well, maybe we ain’t meant for this love

We have tried everything to keep this therapy going. Consults, different therapy avenues, etc. But they never seem to help. I might get a transference session in where I talk about what is wrong with everything but then the next session is like I didn’t speak at all. Things are back to status quo. It really pisses me off. Now I am just hounded by thoughts of whether I should be here or not and I am again alone in dealing with them because my bozo therapist is too anxious to hear what I have to say. She doesn’t listen and she just talks the talk in circles now. I am not asking her to cure me of my thoughts but not having a place for them is really hurting me. But I understand that therapists have their own shit to deal with. But I just once wish that my therapist of 14 years would take a Xanax and let me talk. Otherwise, I think I will just give up therapy once and for all as much as it pains to be even type these words. There is getting nothing out of it if you cannot share your inner most, darkest, thoughts.

I have been down this road with my therapist for some time. It is a well beaten path. I just wish she would restrain herself some and listen more to what I have to say than get all bent out of shape when I mention suicide, or being gone, or leaving therapy. A seasoned therapist should know how to do this by now and I shouldn’t have to write this blog to get the message across, yet again…