Tag: CRPS (formerly RSD)

Thanksgiving Eve 2016

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

Thanksgiving Eve 2016

I didn’t sleep well again, last night. I woke up before 0330. My check had come in so I bought my groceries and paid some bills. I had to get the groceries before 0400. That is when the computer system is shutdown for 4 hours and I wanted to get a Friday slot. If it wasn’t so early in the morning, I might have baked. I decided to wait until my mother left the house later in the morning. I went back to sleep around 0500 or so. I slept till 0800 and made coffee and breakfast.

While drinking coffee, I waited till my mother left the house before going back to the kitchen. After she left, I made the cake and cleaned up afterwards. My ankle was sore but I didn’t care. I knew I would rest a few hours as I had therapy and then I could go out to get my haircut and espresso.

Therapy was fun. We had transference and counter-transference going on throughout the session. I told her about the blog I wrote yesterday and she wanted to read it. I tried to get out of next week and that wasn’t going to happen. She wanted to do the SSF and I was against it. I told her the only way I would allow it is if she got trained, which she refuses to do. So fuck you to it. She has a brilliant suicide prevention tool at her fingertips that is so damn easy to use and yet refuses to learn how to. I don’t have the patience to teach her. She only cares about two points of the assessment and the rest is laid to waste. No, sorry, I can’t and won’t fill out the damn forms if you aren’t going to use the tool correctly. It’s a waste of paper. I won’t even give her the new forms because it’s just going to sit in a file to collect dust.

It really pisses me off that I go about finding this stuff to help ME out of the darkness and yet it’s all for nothing. I give up trying to bring in new material to her because she is so stubborn in her damn ways to see another avenue that might help not only me, but her other clients as well. I can’t be the only person in her practice who has thought of suicide. Maybe it will take my death for her to learn these things. I don’t know. I’m out of straws and I didn’t draw the short one or the long one.

I really wanted to tell her that I am struggling with my plan and that the bottle of pills I plan on using is getting dangerously close to me using whenever the fuckits hit. I keep picturing myself taking the bottle, not caring that tomorrow is a holiday. I keep telling myself just a few more days but then I think of my psychiatrist and the trust she has in me. It wouldn’t be right to end it and not call her first. But then if I call her, I am scared she will say hospital, whether I want to go or not. I had ample time to tell my therapist these things but I just felt it wasn’t worth talking about because of HER anxiety issues. I swear she needs some Xanax or Ativan but it’s hard to slip her one through the phone. It’s even harder to have these conversations when she just becomes a rambling lunatic after I say the words suicidal plan. So once again, I am left to deal with this shit on my own, like I always have for the past 30 some odd years. I have to laugh when they say “you’re not alone” with depression or when you are suicidal. But the fact of the matter is you truly are, in the heat of the moment, no matter where you are or what time it hits you.

After therapy, I struggled with the damn cover to cover my cake. I bought a disposable pan with a lid. I thought the lid would fit, isn’t that why they sent the damn lid? I tried this way and that and it wouldn’t fucking fit. My mother finally was able to get it to go on. By the time I was finished finagling the sucker, it was time to get dressed and catch the bus. I decided to get my haircut first. There was one person ahead of me so I had to wait. I didn’t mind waiting. This was a good barber that I feel comfortable with. We were talking while he was cutting and next thing I know it’s close to 1600. I was there for more than an hour and I still didn’t get my espresso. I had some time before the next bus so decided to get it. There was hardly any seats so I just got my drink and left to wait for the next bus. I was waiting for my mother to call me any minute asking what was for dinner but she didn’t call until I was close to home. She didn’t say anything about dinner and just asked if I could help her clean the kitchen. I knew I should have gone to the pizza place for two slices. Now I had to order food.

I ordered a burrito and something else. What that something was I have no idea. It was a fried chicken finger in a fried something and didn’t taste good. The burrito was good except it didn’t have sour cream and guacamole like I ordered. After I ate, I helped my mother with the kitchen. I washed stuff and dried them. Then my ankle was really starting to act up so I took a shower before it exploded. I didn’t finish washing the pans. I need to take another pain pill and relax a bit before doing that. By the sounds of the kitchen, it looks like my mother is doing the last three pans I left. So I can just relax now while my ankle explodes.

random shit to say when you are in pain

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

Random shit to say when you are in pain

I really wanted to make my Nantucket cranberry cake today but my ankle is just not cooperating and neither is my energy level. I am so tired from pain meds to keep the pain from spiraling out of control, which doesn’t help the energy or motivation to bake anything. I wanted to get it done today because my mother will be making pies tomorrow and it’s just a disaster in the kitchen when she bakes. There is not enough room for two cooks. Plus, we will need the same bowls and stuff so I should be able to make my cake some time tonight I hope.

I hate saying I am giving up because that to me sounds so final. I usually call Uncle and see if the mercy gods will oblige. But I called UNCLE and gave in to taking two pain meds, which most likely will knock me out before I take my night meds. If my mother goes to my aunt’s house in the morning, it will be the only opportunity I have to bake my cake. Part of me doesn’t want to do it but I bought the ingredients for it and if I don’t use them, it will go to waste. I called my mother and she has a few errands tomorrow to make so I will have the kitchen to myself for a little while. I just hope I don’t wake up too groggy.

Today didn’t start out to well. I woke up at 0530 to pee and then when I returned to my room, my ankle acted up. By the time I fell back to sleep it was around 7ish. And I have been sleeping on and off for most of the day. Only time I forced myself awake was when I had therapy this afternoon. It didn’t go well. She was in an anxious talkative mood and I just wanted silence. I really didn’t want the session to begin with but she refused to cancel, even though I tried early enough, before her blessed 24 hour rule. Tomorrow I am supposed to talk to her at the same time and I just don’t want to. I just don’t find therapy useful for me anymore. It’s been that way for a while now. No matter how many times I bring it up, she still insists on meeting. We don’t really “meet”, just talk on the phone, which used to be great but now I hate it. I do try and meet in person at least a few times a month if I am able to get a Zipcar.

I really hate being in pain. I need to take my night meds so I can go to sleep, though for some reason, instead of making me sleepy, they keep me awake. Sometimes I am able to be asleep by 2300. And other times I am not and I am up past midnight. It sucks because then I can get overtired. Then painsomnia keeps me up more. If the pain is really bad, I am usually then hit with suicidal thoughts and wanting to end my life very badly. But I am unable to do anything right then and there because I can’t walk. Being on my foot hurts so all I can do is stay in bed, in agony. Like today. For most of the day, I just been off my feet, sleeping, but the pain still persists. I hate it. I hate my life. I hate me.

Throbbing pain and suicidal thinking

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

Throbbing pains and suicidal thinking

I knew I was going to be in severe pain tonight. What I wasn’t expecting was the stupid pain to change course on me. I usually have three metatarsals (bones in the foot) that hurt me every night. Now there are six of them. If I didn’t just have foot X-rays, I would probably get them again. Of course, there is nothing wrong with my bones. They just throb and throb every single night. Then I have my ankle deciding to join in the fun and it keeps me awake when I want to sleep.

I knew I should have tried to take a nap earlier this evening. Around 1730 or so, I was really tired from the migraine I had and everything was bothering me, lights and sounds mostly. Then my face went numb so I took my migraine meds. I should have taken a nap but it was too early to sleep and I knew I would be up if I did. Now I am shooting myself in the foot, so to speak.

I have my phone on vibrate because I can’t stand noises, even though the migraine has gone away now. I need to change the ringtone for my text messages. But there really isn’t any good ringtones on my phone that I like. I would love to get the Star Trek Next Gen communicator ringtone but I haven’t been able to find an app that has it. I think by now they have come out with the real comm badge that is a Bluetooth communicator. I would get one but it’s $80. Way out of my budget. If I strike it rich on my birthday, I will consider getting it. That is if I don’t go through with my plan.

I know I have been talking a lot about my plan and yet I am still here. Honestly don’t know why I am still here, but I am. Guilt is one reason. My fucking idiotic therapist is another. And of course my psychiatrist, who I value her trust in me more than anything. I can’t whole heartedly go ahead with my plan knowing that a) it might not work the way I want it to (meaning I will survive) and b) if I do die, the pain I will cause those left behind. It’s a burden on me knowing that I will cause suffering to those I love more than anything.

I was reading a blog today from a friend I know in Ireland. She has DID and was in emotional turmoil. She needed to hear from her therapist to calm her down. I remember the days when I needed the same thing from my therapist or psychiatrist. But since the psychosis that has happened this year and the medication I take for it, I no longer feel that connection. I feel disconnected from my feelings, all together and it worries me because other than feeling really suicidal or depressed, I really don’t feel much else. Maybe anger occasionally and grief, but no sense of connection to the people I care about. There used to this connection but I no longer feel it. I have been cut off from it. I guess it started when I realized my father wasn’t going to make it earlier this year. I remember being in the hospital room with the PA while she was telling us the oncologist was not going to pursue anymore treatment options for my father and that it was only a matter of time that he was going to die. My father was wrapped up in the blankets in his hospital bed, trying to sleep. I have no idea if he was hearing the conversation or not. That is when we started looking for nursing homes for him. It was a hard decision and it was difficult to bear. I don’t think the month of April is ever going to be the same for us again.

While my father was dying from his disease, my depression was out of control. Then I became psychotic after his death, even while taking the meds for it. The voices told me to stop taking it so I did. I got worse. Then I went on another medication because I had to take something for it. The voices were commanding me to take bottles of my pills and telling me everyone was going to kill me, including my lovely psychiatrist. Now that I am back in control again, I feel different. I feel shielded, like I have emotion but I don’t. They are useless to me. My doc wants me to take a lower dose of this medication but I have tried to and it just doesn’t help me to be on a low dose. I need to take two doses a day to feel stable. It might be causing me to feel like a robot at times but it’s keeping the delusions, paranoia, and voices under control. It’s been five months now that I have been feeling disconnected but I really don’t want to be plugged in. It’s better this way. The only time I feel out of sorts is when my pain is out of control and the anxiety takes over. That is when I feel most dysregulated and suicidal. It is at these times that I come up with plans to kill myself because I want to end it all. Sadly, the way I feel right now, I could just toss a coin and see if I should die or live. Heads I live, tails I die. I don’t care anymore. If my favorite holiday wasn’t coming in the next few days, I might toss that coin. Until then, I will wait till next week and then toss that coin.

A Trip to the Museum

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

Trip to the Museum

I planned on going to the Museum of Fine Arts today if the weather permitted. Snow was in the forecast and I wasn’t sure what it was going to be like. I woke up early enough and when I saw outside, it had stopped snowing. There wasn’t that much on the ground so I decided to get going. I took a shower and made coffee. My mother can always be counted upon to make snide remarks. She was washing clothes so I took off my shirt. I didn’t think it was a big deal. She has seen me naked before. But she had to say that it was shameful. I tried not to let it bother me but it did. She can be such a bitch.

As I wasn’t heading to the Square, I took my time in getting ready. I went to Walgreens to fill my prescription and then went to the bus stop. Luckily I didn’t have to wait too long as it was cold out. I did have to wait a bit for the train. I don’t know why people talk to me when I have my headphones on. There was a guy that got on the elevator with me to go to the platform. At the platform he starts a conversation with me, telling me how his girlfriend kicked him out and he is now homeless. I could give two shits about his problems. He just went on and on and I was praying for the train to hurry up. Luckily when it did come, he got on another car and I did too. I only had two stops to go to catch another train.

I got off at the museum stop and walked to the entrance. I am glad it was at the front of the building. I haven’t been to the museum in years and the last I went, it was through some door around the corner. It wasn’t there this time, just in the front of the building with stairs. Great! I didn’t see a ramp I could walk up so I did the stairs. Thankfully, they were wide enough apart and not that many. I didn’t have any problems with my membership card and walked through the museum. I had to ask where the Frida Kahlo exhibit was. It was on the 3rd floor of the place. I asked if there was an elevator and there was. I had to walk through a fancy dining hall to get to where I was going.

I got to the 3rd floor and looked for the exhibit. I was excited that I was finally going to see her art. Or thought I was. There were photos of Frida and then photos that she took, about 9 or so. I was so disappointed. My calf was starting to hurt from the brace. I walked around to see the other exhibits on the floor then made my way back to the exit, feeling downhearted. I had waited all year for this exhibited to be shown and for it to not be what I was expecting was just upsetting. When I came down the first floor, I saw the Egyptian exhibit and would have seen that but my calf was fricken barking at me. I left and then sat down in front of the museum to post online about my disappointment. I rested a few minutes as I just missed the train and would have to wait at least 10 mins for the next one.

I made my way across the street and waited. There wasn’t any seating so I had to stand. My calf was really bothering me and I don’t know why. I still had to go to Stop and Shop to see if I could get a disposable 10 inch pie plate. By the time I made it back, the temperature dropped and the wind was bitter cold. I didn’t have to wait too long for the bus to the store. I found a 9×9 square pan that I can use. Then I walked back to the bus stop. As I was walking, I saw a bus roll by. I knew I would have to wait. I still needed to get to the pharmacy to pick up my prescription. The next bus came about five minutes later. I was really cold. My calf decided it was going to hurt me even if I was sitting down. I couldn’t understand it as this device is made for fucking walking so it shouldn’t be bothering me. I guess I did too much.

I was starving by the time I came home as I didn’t eat lunch or really have breakfast. I made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. My mother had been baking and used my damn walnuts for her banana bread. Now I need to buy them because I don’t have enough for my cake. I am so fucking pissed. She was arguing with me about how much was left. I need a half cup and there is maybe a fourth of a cup left. Then we were talking about the oven use. She plans on making pies Wednesday. I don’t have money until then to get the fucking walnuts so she will have to wait to make her pies. I should have bought them when I bought the cranberries but I didn’t think my mother was going to use my ingredients for her stuff. Damn bitch. She didn’t even ask if she could have them. I am so damn annoyed. Then she wants me to make dinner because she needs to “rest”. Are you fucking kidding me?? She is making cookies as I am writing this. I think she can make dinner while she is at it. Think I need an Ativan before I explode.