Tag: CRPS

How Darkness Seeps In

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

I didn’t go to sleep till around 3 am. I had the itch to write but all that I wrote was “it’s late”. The rest of what I wrote was boring and I am going to toss it. I really wanted to write about the psychosis getting out of hand and switching antipsychotics but all I did was outline my thoughts. I guess it’s a start.

Around this time last year, I was signing and faxing papers for the New York Times as I wrote an article they would be publishing. It was exciting as I never dreamed of writing for the Times. It was an extremely high ego boost. But it didn’t last long as I crashed into a deep depression afterwards that stuck around and is still lurking around. I guess I have been depressed for almost a year now, my longest episode. The psychosis didn’t really affect me until November of last year. That was when the abilify stopped working for me and I just thought things were still going okay.

It wasn’t until my back went out and I got scared I would have to have surgery again that my depression really worsened, causing the psychosis to also worsen. Add in the stress of my father’s ill health and it was a perfect recipe for disaster. I started having the physical symptoms of depression and lost some weight because I wasn’t eating. It’s easy to reflect on this as time has passed but it wasn’t easy while I was going through it. The psychosis really got worse after the Orlando shooting. That is when I stopped taking the abilify because the voices told me to. I was under their command. I just thank my lucky stars that I didn’t call the FBI like I wanted to because I was so delusional. I wanted to let the FBI know that they should look for a parasite in the brain of the deceased gunman because that what was causing him to act the way he did. I truly believed there was aliens planted parasites in ISIS followers that was making them evil and do bad things. I still believe this.

The voices wanted me to take more medication than was necessary for a few weeks. It wasn’t until the paranoia got out of control that I decided to go to trilafon to help with all the craziness that was going on in my head. My therapist was fearful I was going to lose it or take my life. I also started emailing crazy stuff to my psychiatrist which she had to stop because it was not the run of the mill stuff I normally sent her. If I had to “talk” to her, I had to page her. I couldn’t understand but now I sort of do. What I was writing was a little concerning. But it was my new “normal”. It wasn’t until I was at an adequate dose of trilafon that I realized just how crazy I had been.

All throughout this psychotic phase I was going through, I didn’t think it was bad. I still don’t. I had become more distant from my feelings and empty. It was like I felt nothing. I was hollow. These feelings didn’t last long. They were then covered up with depressive feelings and sometimes suicidal stuff.

My chronic pain reached its breaking point. I had my last flare up and I was going to make sure that it was going to be my last. It hasn’t happened yet, but it will. I am tired of living from flare up to flare up and having little to no relief for days. The only way I can get relief is by taking pain medication around the clock, and sometimes I have to take the strong pain meds to break the cycle. I am hindered in my activities and it sucks. Even walking around my own house is troublesome during these flare ups. I can’t make myself something to eat, showering is next to impossible, even brushing my teeth is a chore.

Dealing with mental illness and chronic pain is very difficult. It requires a balance. I am grateful I am not working because I think I would be dead by now. The emotional toll it takes to work, I just don’t have anymore. It was difficult in the beginning to get used to all the free time in the world that I had. Going to Starbucks provided some routine for me but on days when the depression was bad or my pain levels were out of control, even that routine was soon broken. Now I go whenever I can just to get out of the house for an hour or so. It’s rare that I will be out for more than two hours. My anxiety and paranoia get too much and I have to return home.

I spend the majority of my time in my room. I write, read, and follow Twitter and Facebook all from the comfort of my bed. I have to keep my left ankle elevated to keep it happy. It’s not like it won’t flare up because it can and will. I still haven’t figured out what makes it happy and what makes it really angry. I thought walking and standing aggravate it but I can have hours where I am on the bed and the slightest movement can hurt me. It’s so aggravating and frustrating because what causes it to hurt today, won’t cause it to hurt tomorrow. It is very depressing, which only intensifies my suicidal tendencies.

Therapist is Back

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

Therapist is back

My therapist came back from vacation. She went to Ireland as she brought me back a spoon. It’s becoming our thing. We talked about a lot of things. I gave her my sauce and she wanted to eat it right then and there. She is too funny.

We didn’t talk about my suicidality, but we did talk about how my pain and the voices are contributing to it. I still need to page my psychiatrist so I can get some more trilafon. She encouraged me to page her though I am a little hesitant as it’s not an “emergency”. I just emailed her again. If I don’t get a response, I will page her tomorrow. I still have enough to last me the week.

My therapist doesn’t want me to kill myself in September because it’s a special month for her. I suppose I could wait till October. The weather is bound to be cooler then and maybe I can get some kind of suicide note out of the way. It will give me time to think of what I want to do with my stuff. I think it’s unfair that I am made to wait a month when I want to end my life so badly. She just doesn’t get how miserable I am.

I talked about the psychologist that was being a jerk to me yesterday. I explained what his thoughts were and she agreed with me that he was being an idiot. I don’t know why I follow him. Just for a laugh, I suppose.

We also talked about my other friend on Twitter. She asked if I met him yet. I told her no and I am not so sure I want to meet him because he is a therapist. He is a little looney but that is okay. I find him interesting and funny. I guess I don’t want to be disappointed with seeing him in real life versus what I imagine him to be like.

It’s funny that we kind of talked in circles all through out our session. Not really focusing on any issues. She did ask about my pain and I told her the situation with my pain meds. I have technically 9 days of meds and I don’t get a refill for 14. This is because I have had to increase the meds to get relief. I am no longer taking 1 pills at a time. I think I am taking around 6 pills a day when I am allotted only 4. That is when I am having a bad day. Lately, I haven’t had that much pain so I think it will even out. But I can’t control flare ups. I guess if I do have another flare, I will have to take the strong pills and risk my bowels being shut off for a few days, despite taking senna. It’s all the give and take of the pain syndrome. All the more reason why I rather kill myself now while I can possibly walk to my destination than not.

The drive there wasn’t too bad and I made it on time back. I didn’t hit traffic and listened to country tunes the whole way singing along. It was fun driving. I am glad I don’t have a car for daily use as traffic annoys me.

Just got a response from my psych about my meds: “yes”. I don’t know what that means. I hope it means she will call it in. Why do docs have to be so damn cryptic?

It’s late and I’m still up

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

It’s late and I’m still up

I had to go back downstairs because that is where the bathroom is. I am in so much pain that I decided to take the strong pain meds to see if that calms things down. I fricken wish my therapist wasn’t on vacation. I could really use a session right now as my sister still has me all torn up. I just feel that they are crowding into my space and that I don’t feel valued. It’s bad enough where I place my bags my sister wants to put a cabinet so I need to move my stuff out of there. My bro in law need to get his stuff out of there first. I just feel like I am being kicked out of my own home even though I pay my dues every fucking month. Half my SSD check is put towards the mortgage, and I do own, technically, a third of the house. I will inherit this place when my mother passes, which I hope is not any time soon.

Being in pain isn’t helping my mood. I am listening to music to try and calm down but it’s not working. I don’t feel like reading as I read quite a bit today. Tomorrow I need to answer the questions of the chapter and then turn it in. I did find one typo that needs mentioning as the sentence doesn’t make sense otherwise.

I feel like my previous blog was a bitch rant and I don’t care. It is how I felt at the time. I am not sorry for how I feel but it was pretty harsh words. Pain will do that to you. All I keep hearing my psych would say is “calm down”. But how can I when my things are going to be potentially moved? All my books are in my office. All the hard work that I used for my research is in my office. Granted I have moved some of the stuff to my room, but most of it is still in my office. I might not use it every day and it’s mostly a holding area for stuff, but I do use the room. I really don’t want my sister living with me again. It will be too much. And what will become of my niece and nephew? They are just going to live in the streets while my sister has a roof over her head? That is what is really burning me up. She calls them selfish but I think she is if she doesn’t provide for her kids, no matter that they are over 18. Just really pisses me off.

It’s not like my sister doesn’t have her own apartment. She does. She has lived there for a long time. It’s her home. I don’t understand why she would want to give it up to live in a shitty small room that can barely fit a twin size mattress. I just don’t get it.

One thing is for certain, I always make do with my thinking. Some time in September I will go through with my plan to end my life. Then I don’t care what the hell happens to my things. They can have a bonfire in the backyard with it. But I seriously need to write a will and testament before I do. It will be tough but it will happen. I got less than four weeks to do this. Some deadline…literally.

Fucking Ankle

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

Fucking ankle

I left the house today so that I could give my AC a rest from working. I finished the Adler chapter and then decided to write for a bit before catching the next bus home. Before going to the bus stop, I stopped at the meat market to get hamburgers for dinner. Everything was fine until about three stores down from the meat market. My ankle seized up and I couldn’t move it and it hurt like hell. I pretty much dragged it to the bus stop and waited for the bus. I was in such agony. I don’t understand how this could have happened as I haven’t done anything in three fucking days. The meat market wasn’t that far out of my way. It was just maybe half block away from Starbucks.

I made it home, almost in tears. It took forever for me to get up the stairs. I immediately took my pain meds soon as I got in my room before undressing and changing into my PJs. The damn coffee I drank affected my bowels soon after I tried to settle in so I had to go back down the stairs to go to the bathroom. It was torture going back up to my room. I had to stop a few times because I just couldn’t bear any weight on my foot. This is the worst it has been in a while. I had woke up in pain but thought I could work my way through it. Next time I will just stay home.

My mother cooked the hamburgers and I found that my middle sister was over the house. She was making herself a grilled cheese. We were all talking and stuff while I was in pain. The burgers were good. It was the only thing I had to eat all day. Then my sister said that she wanted to move into my office. I got pissed off. The only way she is moving into MY OFFICE is over my dead body. She will be abandoning her two kids so she could live at home. Fuck that. I am not going to be around for that shitshow. And who the hell does she think she is thinking she can just move MY STUFF so she can have a place to sleep? The nerve.

The pain meds made me kind of nauseous but now I have a migraine. Guess the meds didn’t make me sick to my stomach more than my idiotic sister did. I have to get up and get some migraine pills but I can barely stand. FUCK. I texted my therapist and told her I give her my word that if my sister does clear off my office, I will kill myself. I have never been so damn serious in my life about this. Sure, in a few weeks it won’t really matter because I will kill myself anyways but until then I still have a chance of reconsidering. Not so with this bullshit. Just put a nail in my coffin why don’t ya.