It’s Friday, not Saturday

It’s Friday, not Saturday

After my third nap today, I could have sworn it was Saturday. I had to look at my phone to see what day it is. It was Friday. And it was well after 1700 so I didn’t want to page my psychiatrist. She is going on vacation next two weeks. I am to email her with any problems as her pager is being signed out to another clinician.

I realized now that I am awake that I missed taking my afternoon dose of trilafon. I took it now as I am a little on edge with the voices being rowdy. I did take a shower tonight and brushed my teeth. I have been bad about doing both on a regular basis. I usually do try to remember to brush after my morning pee but sometimes it just doesn’t happen.

Because I have been sleeping so much the past few days, I am a little disoriented as to what the hell day it is. Pain flare ups always do this to me. It didn’t help that I was in the middle of a dream when my fucking crazy cousin called me for the third time today. I just don’t feel like talking to him so I let the phone go to voicemail. He really disrupted my sleeping today because he kept calling. Totally pissed me off.

I finally read a couple of chapters of Cuckoo’s Calling. I really want to get through this book by the weekend so I can start another book. I haven’t gone back to Dostoevsky in a while. I should read some more of that book. I really wanted to finish it by summer’s end and it’s almost August. Monday I will be going to Harvard Square to get another book. It’s Harry Potter and the Cursed Child. It’s basically the script of the play they had in London. I am a HUGE Harry Potter fan so I have to have this book for my collection.

Tomorrow, if I am not in pain and if I wake up early, I plan on going to the Square to read a chapter I promised someone that I would read. It’s 62 pages and I need to have it read and critiqued it by Aug 22nd. I thought I had till October but I read the email wrong. It’s a chapter on the Alderian theory. I have no clue about it, which is why I picked it. I hope to learn from it.

My pain levels have been up and down the past couple of hours. It’s tolerable but I still don’t like it. It’s still making me very uneasy. And I still want to take my life because of it. I just honestly, don’t give a shit anymore. I still wonder if I would be able to take my pills and end my life. It will be a long period to wait till the pills work. And the place that I have picked out wouldn’t be a comfortable place to lay back and wait. I just hope there isn’t people around me when this is happening as it will be a public place. I just don’t want to fail again. That would be worse than dying. Other than my blog, there really isn’t anyone I can talk to about this kind of agony. If I talk to my psychiatrist, I might get hospitalized. If I talk to my therapist, it will just be analyzed and stored but not discussed openly. I can’t talk to a family member because they just want to “cure” me of my ailment, that I should see another doctor that might help me. Or go back to the one I see for more treatment, like they have to have some magical cure.

Don’t get me wrong, the meds that I take for my pain are adequate. They work as long as I take them. But it’s the taking them night after night after night that is what’s bothering me. The pain is relentless. It doesn’t matter what I do or don’t do anymore, I just hurt. And I am tired of hurting for no reason.

Bad day of pain

Bad day of pain

I woke up this morning in pain so I pretty much took some pain meds and rolled over to go back to sleep. I was disgusted. My therapist thought she would have time for me today but she didn’t. She had to reschedule our appointment for Tuesday so I am talking with her Monday instead.

While I was sleeping, my psychiatrist emailed me back. I sent her the latest blog post about my near suicidal episode the other night. She thanked me for letting her know. I feel like calling her now because I am so agitated because all I did was make myself something to eat (I haven’t eaten anything all day) and now I am in serious pain. It’s like I have been on my feet all day when in truth, I just been in bed. I am so fed up.

My tolerance to pain has been running thin lately and I don’t know why. It’s the same pain that I deal with constantly. It’s not worse. It’s not that severe. I just have this throbbing in my ankle that just won’t go away and I just can’t stand it any longer. I really just want to die because it’s just ridiculous that all I did was make myself some ribs and my ankle didn’t like it. All I did was put them in the oven. Granted the kitchen was really hot even before I turned the oven on. I think the heat might be affecting my mood by now as it’s been 90 or higher nearly every day the past week.

I feel like I have been trapped in my room because of the heat. I try to do things that don’t involve me standing or sitting too long. When I am in my room, I have my leg propped up so it’s not hanging down all the time. But I don’t know what to do anymore. I am going insane. I just want to cry and last night when I was writing the blog about my suicidality and chronic pain, I was crying a little bit. I was just so frustrated. My room is the only place in the house that has AC other than my sister’s apartment. But that would mean going down the stairs and I don’t think my ankle will like that much. It’s bad enough I went up and down to cool off while the ribs were cooking. I still need to marinate my steak so I can grill it. I bought two nice pieces of steak, one is a filet mignon. It doesn’t really look like it but it says that it is so I am going with it. My mother is arguing with me about the price of the pork chops. She doesn’t want me to buy meat from Peapod anymore. She thinks I paid too much for it per pound. I paid $7 for about 6-8 pieces of pork chops. It was supposed to be $1.99/lb. I don’t know. I won’t buy her stuff anymore. If she knew what I paid for the ribs she would kill me.

I think I am going to page my psychiatrist to talk with her tonight. I am feeling out of sorts and I just want a check in with her. I just need someone to talk to about my pain that will understand and not give me a lecture about what I should or shouldn’t be doing. I have been so tearful lately that it’s been so difficult to keep my emotions in check. I am not a cryer by any means. It takes a hell of a lot for me to cry. But I am at my wits end right now with all this pain. The meds help, they really do but usually I have a break for at least 24 hours and I just haven’t had that break. I have been in pain all week and most of the time my pain is at night. I just can’t stand it anymore, hence why I have been thinking of killing myself, again.

Meds are kicking in so I will stop here for now. Thanks for reading.

An Open Discussion About Suicidal Thoughts and Chronic Pain

An Open Discussion About Suicidal Thoughts and Chronic Pain

For the past twenty-four hours, I have been in a suicidal quandary. Last night I was in severe pain for the umpteenth time in a row. I had wanted to go to sleep but my ankle said, nope, not yet. I got really angry because I so wanted to sleep. It was past midnight. I had finished watching the ball game. I had winded down. I was ready for sleep. But pain said no and because it was the third or fourth night in a row that this happened, I was fed up. I wanted to kill myself. I felt there was no other way to escape.

My pain is well managed. All I had to do was take two pills to quiet the pain down and then drift off to sleep. I took the pills and waited for the throbbing to stop. Within an hour, it did but my brain didn’t. I was still pissed and suicidal that I just wanted to give up. I went over the plan I had been thinking about the past few months, wondering if it would work or not. A doctor friend told me it would be painful but I knew that. I also know that it would be at least 2-6 hours for the pills to work. That is a lot of time.

My friend understands about the chronic pain that I have because she also suffers from it as well. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have adequate pain meds like I do. I am not planning on ending my life with my pain meds. Far from it. If the area that I wanted to hang myself wasn’t fenced off, I would go there and do the deed. But it’s fenced off and I am not a good climber.

It doesn’t matter what kind of pain you are in, physical or mental. It still makes you want to end your life. Unfortunately, I have both so I am in a pickle. I have the raw end of the deal. I write about my suffering because I hope that it will help someone. I am not feeling hopeless. Just disgusted that I have to rely on pills every single day to give me relief from my pain, either it be my pain meds or my psych meds. Recently, I have been psychotic and that opened up a big kettle of worms. I thought I would have to go back to the hospital but my mother became sick and needed care so I couldn’t go. I had to be treated as an outpatient and take my care more seriously because my mother needed me.

I know the devastation I will bring to my family should I die, not only my family but to those around me. I talk about taking my life on this blog a lot because it helps to write about it. Doesn’t make me feel less suicidal but it helps with the feelings of not being able to do anything about it. Last night I was close to killing myself and if I had a clear plan, I probably wouldn’t be writing this right now. I don’t know if another hospitalization is in my future. I have grown hopeless about that kind of treatment because there is no treatment in the hospital anymore. The mental health professionals and insurance companies just think that a few days in a locked ward is enough to reset your thinking and make you think you have a life worth living. It’s a big crock. For some it is helpful but for those with chronic illness like me, unless you get treatment, actual therapy, it is just a waste of time.

I am not saying I have the answers to the mental health system because it is different in every state, and that is not the purpose of this blog post. But talking about suicide is similar to everyone who experiences it. People are literally dying because they don’t want to be in pain anymore. They don’t want the stigma that means having to take a pill to control that pain is causing them. Sometimes the stigma is greater than the treatment of the pain. Every day I wonder if I am an addict and will my meds be taken away from me because my pain is controlled with meds. I know that if any doctor takes these pain meds away from me, they might as well be signing my death certificate.

You can say that I can’t have it both ways but I am so tired of not having a life because of pain. I can’t walk like I used to. Just walking a few blocks brings me horrible pain. Last night I washed dishes and I think that is what set off my ankle pain. For the ten minutes it took me to wash four dishes and two cups. I can’t drive long distances because my ankle will act up on me. I never know what sets off my pain. And the docs aren’t sure what is causing my pain. Some kind of pain syndrome but they are not sure what. My quality of life sucks because I can’t go to family functions and things because my pain limits me. I test the boundaries every day and I am rewarded with pain. Then add mental illness on top of that and it’s not a pretty picture. Sure I was depressed and suicidal BEFORE I had chronic pain. But I also was able to hold down two jobs that I somewhat enjoyed.

I am not trying to boo-hoo my life. I just hate the way I live and I just don’t want to live anymore. It’s too painful, both physically and mentally.

Throb Throb Throb goes my ankle

Throb throb throb goes my ankle

My night would not be complete unless my ankle and foot are throbbing like there isn’t going to be a tomorrow. And right on cue, I can not sleep because of the throbbing. My day was going just fine. I was settling into my bed. Closed the light. Was nice and comfy when the throbbing came out of no where and boom my foot explodes in pain. I go through this rigmarole every goddamned night.

Tonight I got really angry, like punch a wall angry. I didn’t have a pleasant evening. A friend came over my house to watch the game. Least that is what I was intending to do. He didn’t shut up the entire 8 innings he watched. And he wasn’t talking about the game. He kept on saying shit pickle, in a joking voice because the announcer was saying something about being in a pickle. It was hard trying to pay attention to the game and listen to my friend ramble on and on. It didn’t help that my team was losing, came ahead, lost the lead and then finally gave up. I really couldn’t wait for the game to end because I wanted to shower really bad. I was sweating up a storm as the house was so hot.

Now I am freezing my assets off and loving it. My stomach didn’t like the food I was eating but then it didn’t really start bothering me until after I took my night meds, which is like eating a meal in and of itself. I feel so bloated, which also isn’t helping me go to sleep along with the throbbing of my ankle and foot. I wasn’t angry that my friend talked a lot during the game. I am angry because I am in fucking pain, yet again, for the umpteenth night in a row. I can’t take it anymore.

I seriously want to end my life. And if I had a car, I would do it, right now. I would drive to where I want to end it. Take the pills and hope it’s enough to kill me. Is it bad that I dream of that day when I do do this? Even if I don’t have a car, I can walk to my destination. I don’t know if it will kill me but then once I get there, I will be dead. There won’t be any going back. And the throb throb throb of my ankle will be but a memory.

I know there will be people that will miss me and I am sorry to hurt you all but I can’t live like this anymore. My life is nothing but pain and anguish and tonight it’s killing me to breathe. I have a weight on my chest that no one can see or feel or touch. It’s called psychache and it hurts really bad, more than the throbbing in my ankle sometimes.

I got so angry tonight that I wanted to cry. I don’t think I have ever felt so bullshit angry before because I am in pain. I have taken my pills. I honestly couldn’t remember if I took them or not. Then I remembered that it was hours ago that I took them, which is why I am in pain now. I hate when I don’t get ahead of the pain. I think that I can last a few hours without taking a pill. Sometimes, I really think I can just stand the pain. Not tonight though. Tonight it’s just awful like it’s every night at this time. Just before bed it’s just at it’s worse and no one can tell me why that is. It doesn’t bother me during the day. Only before bed, right when I want to sleep the devil comes out and my ankle and foot explodes in agony. This is why I have every right to die. Doesn’t matter that I have pills to take the pain away. That isn’t the point. The point is that I shouldn’t be in pain, period. But I am. And I just can’t accept that is the way my life is anymore. It’s too great a burden to bear.