Tag: CRPS

therapy black out

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, Chronic pain, CRPS, depression, mood disorders

Therapy black out

Trigger warning sexual abuse talk

I had therapy today and in the middle of it, my power goes out. I had to use my hotspot to connect but because I was in the dark, I didn’t turn the camera on. UGH. We were talking about trauma and specifically my mother’s abuse towards me. She sexually abused me from the time I was young, like age 2 to 13. She always had to look at my genitals or breasts. Now that I have been cathing for a while, I still have flashbacks to when she touches me when I touch myself. In my pediatric records, the doctor notes that my “vagina was closing” according to my mother but I wonder if it was really my urethra as it is in my vaginal opening. I’ve had a few UTI’s growing up and I wonder if it is because my mother stuck things in there. I also had a trauma medical procedure done to me when I was five. I had to be restrained physically and chemically for the doctor to do the procedure. All I remember is that I was screaming for my mother to get me, to comfort me, and when she didn’t come, I felt abandoned. I hated my mother for not being there. It was then that I started hearing voices.

Today’s WordPrompt from WordPress is transition. I was talking about my transition today with my therapist as my mother misgendered me, again. It invalidates me and makes me think my transition is not worth it. As I will always be seen as a “daughter” to her rather than a son. She thinks she owns me. I haven’t told her that I will be having top surgery yet. I want to make sure the insurance is going to cover it. I don’t want to tell her and then it not happen. It is five months away anyways. I am hoping that I can have it sooner but I got to know insurance will cover it first.

I am going for blood work this week so asked my pcp if they also need a urine sample because my test strip for home testing tested positive for white cells. I don’t know if my bladder is still inflamed or what. It still hurts though and even though I am starting the estrogen cream tonight, it could be a month before it has an effect. I was going to start last night but I got too tired to put it on. I was going to put it on after my last cath for the night but I didn’t want to get out of bed. I was comfy.

I woke up a couple of time during the night to pee and I was on the same schedule as my mother as every time I had to go pee so did she. I might have to hide the benzoyl peroxide I bought as I found it on the sink rather than in the cabinet. The last tube I bought was used by family members. I never had a chance to use it because it was used up before I could or it went missing on me. I have a breakout of zits right now and need to use it. For fuck’s sake, I bought it with my money and the shit is not cheap. Pisses me off that someone keeps using my acne products.

I wanted to make a zucchini chicken stir fry for supper but my ankle and foot are hurting me too much. My mother is just going to make the chicken with salt and pepper for me. I just realized I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast this morning. I never made lunch like I had wanted to. Therapy just got me so upset.

Chronic illness and disability causes grief

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, Chronic pain, chronic physical pain, CRPS, depression, disability

This was posted in the CRPS and RSD group on FB.

CHRONIC ILLNESS and DISABILITY causes GRIEF: by: Angela Piccolotti

No one tells you that you will grieve when you become disabled and/or chronically ill. Grief is expected when a loved one dies but you don’t expect it when you experience a chronic illness or disability.

The process is the same. You go through all the stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. These stages are our attempts to process change and protect ourselves while we adapt to our new reality. The feelings are the same. The only difference is that instead of a loved one dying, it’s like you’ve died. Your life’s hopes, dreams, and plans are dead. Who you were and who you wanted to become are gone. Everything you used to be. All forever changed.

You break your own heart over and over again because you have hope of a restored body and life but no matter what you do you can’t achieve them.

It’s like you’ve died, but still you’re still breathing and you still have a pulse. You’re a ghost in your own life, a shell of your former self. You are haunted by your old self, your old life, your old hopes and dreams, your former health, all you used to be and all you used to be able to do. You remember everything you’ve lost. It’s heartbreaking!

You feel like you’re just taking up space. You feel so worthless. You can no longer DO. You can only sit by idle as life goes on without you being able to participate in it. It’s agonizingly painful!

feeling depressed and another shitty night sleeping

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

Feeling depressed and another shitty night sleeping

I had a shitty night sleeping. I woke up around 0130 and had to pee. I stayed up for about a half hour then went back to sleep after drinking a half a bottle of Gatorade. I shouldn’t have done it, I know, but I did and then I woke up two hours later to empty my bladder again. This time I was awake. I had a bad dream just before waking me up and I was still pissed off at the doc appointment yesterday. He asked why I was on Latuda because I don’t have a diagnosis of psychosis in my file. I said it is because I have depression with psychosis. I am trying to shake this guy off but he is in my headspace for the time being. I told my mother about the appointment and she said I was on too many meds. Fucking a. I really felt crummy after that.

I’m still waiting for my catheter company to tell me that my insurance will cover the new prescription order. I received an email from them this morning so I don’t know if it was one of the automatic ones or if the insurance has gone through and they need information from me. I then cringed and called the dentist to see what the next step is for my tooth. She said it was a two part procedure and it is expensive. I asked if we could do a partial or a bridge or something. She said she would ask the dentist and get back to me. So I am waiting.

I need to take a shower today. It has been more than a week since I last showered. I have been feeling some gender dysphoria lately so kind of why. I am not happy with my body at all, especially the hair growth on my upper body. I sent a message to my doc asking if she knew why the pattern was inconsistent. I seem to have more hair on my left side than I do my right. I also hate the hairy boobs I have. Just makes me depressed. I can’t believe July is almost here. I see the top surgery surgeon in a few weeks. I have been aware of how nipples are on men’s bodies and been taking screen shots of the ones I like that I want for myself. I don’t know if it will be a graft or just a resize of my current nipples that they will do. I really hope that my weight doesn’t get in the way of this. It will just crush me if it does.

I am waiting for the pharmacy to text me saying my meds are ready. They have been “in progress” for several hours now and it still isn’t done. Last time it wasn’t ready till after 1400. My ankle has been throbbing since early this morning when I was up. I last took my pain meds around 0400. I have one pill left. I don’t want to take it until I know the pharmacy is going to have my meds ready. I got to fucking call them. Every fucking month it is something and always with the same meds. Always. Such a pain in the fucking ass.

thirty years of therapy and what I have learned

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, Chronic pain, CRPS, depression, mood disorders, suicide

Thirty years of therapy and what I learned

I’ve been in therapy since I was 15. After 30 years and 15 therapists, I’ve called it quits. Not because I was cured because I couldn’t get the care I needed. Not all therapists are the same. And even if someone has the credentials I am looking for, doesn’t mean it will work out. I have seen social workers, psychologists (PhDs and PsyD), psychiatrists, and psych RN. The first 10 I saw within the first 10 years of starting therapy. Each therapist I saw didn’t last more than a year. One resident I saw lasted three years, till the end of her residency, but she moved on and I didn’t see her again. I tried DBT (Dialectical Behavioral Therapy), CBT (Cognitive Behavioral Therapy), and the various psychodynamic therapies out there.

My suicidal career took up talk for the last 10 years of therapy, maybe more as it got more serious and I didn’t want to live anymore. I started researching into the different treatment options and found very little to help myself. The therapist I was seeing at the time was stuck in her ways didn’t want to adapt to what I wanted her to do in therapy to help me. It was frustrating. Then I saw a PsyD with the credentials and I thought yes! This is going to work out finally. But it didn’t because she didn’t have empathy and couldn’t give me validation when I needed it the most.

What I learned from my research into suicidology is that the person needs to tell their story of why they are suicidal. It needs to be heard by an empathic person who validates why they are suicidal. They also should appear eager to listen and to know more about the person, their pain and suffering. To find out where it hurts and to try and heal it the best they can. I can go on about things like perturbation, lethality, constriction, and psychache but those are just words no one uses anymore.

Living with pain— physical or emotional— for years is a traumatic stressor. The experience of living with pain evokes many of the same responses that being subjected to abuse or neglect does. — Dr. Glenn Patrick Doyle

I came across this quote while scrolling through Twitter. Dammit this guy always posts something when I am in the feels. He is correct. Pain does have the same responses as being abused or neglected. I have suffered physical pain consistently 24/7/365 for the past twelve years. Each time my foot or ankle flared up, I had flashbacks of when my back gave out ten years prior. I had to go through a series of checklists to make sure it wasn’t happening again, each time, nearly every single day. Once I had a diagnosis for the pain the checklist checking stopped but the feelings of the trauma didn’t.

My therapist who I just stopped seeing, asked me what I was looking for in therapy. But I didn’t have the words. As I am reading the book Building a Therapeutic Alliance with the suicidal Patient, I am figuring out what I need in therapy. I knew she wasn’t able to give me what I need. I am not really sure what I need. I know I want someone to talk to tell my story to. For them to listen, empathically and compassionately to what I have to say about why I am suicidal and why it has become my only option left to me.