Tag: CRPS

exhausted from being tired

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

exhausted from being tired

It’s another night of pain so of course I am up. I am so tired and exhausted from fighting pain all the damn time. You think I would be able to sleep. Lately, I have been taking my pain meds with coffee to fight off the drowsiness effect of the pills. I do this to avoid sleeping all day but then I have nights, like tonight, where I can’t sleep.

I have been thinking more about my plan. I have been crying most of the night because I know I will be hurting everyone around me and then some. I keep having this argument in my head of what my therapy session will be like tomorrow. I told my therapist in a text I was done. That things were over. I was half expecting a response but I didn’t get one. Then I texted her that I would have cancelled session but it was too late to do so. I told her I might not be in the mood to talk, pretty much like I was today.

I don’t really know when I will go through with my plan. I know it’s not going to be this week because it’s too damn hot. I want the weather to be cooler as the place that I have chosen is outdoors. I thought about writing a will tonight but I was too tearful. All day I have been tearful, which is weird because it takes so much for me to cry. I guess the pain has finally broken me down.

My sister texted me earlier about a party they are having for my uncle. I guess she was inviting me to go. But I hate going over there because that means an all day affair and I really don’t want to spend more than a couple of hours at my cousins. I will just be bored. I can be bored at home. Besides, more than a few hours sitting or standing for any length of time always brings me more pain in my leg. Sorry Uncle Bob but I can’t see you because my pain is too great. Just another reason for me to off myself.

I kind of feel like I should hang around till after the election to find out who will win. Trump made a huge blunder today and his supporters are all covering for him saying “he didn’t mean it that way”. Like hell he didn’t. Then he tweeted saying “what he meant to say”, which made no fucking sense. It was an outright lie. Yet he has the audacity to call Clinton a liar. My vote won’t count because I’ll be fucking dead. I know I definitely don’t want to be around for the shitshow when the baby loses nor be around should he win. The country will be going to hell and war. Such a sad state of affairs and then they wonder why the suicide rate is so high. I think there was another suicide tonight on the red line. There was a medical emergency that called for shuttle bus services so I can only guess there was a jumper.

It’s a strange feeling when you have the power to end your life whenever you want to. I know that I could go to the hospital but for what exactly? Hospitals haven’t exactly proven to save lives, not when it comes to suicide anyway. They usually precipitate a suicide. The only regret that I have is that I won’t be finishing my reading challenge for the year. I was so looking forward to reading at least 40 books this year and unless I spend every waking moment reading in the next few weeks, I just don’t see it happening. I have 25 books to go. I have no idea what will become of the books I do have. Some of them are brand spanking new. I suppose they can be donated to the library. I know that my suicide books I want donated to my therapist. She should have a suicide library. It won’t be doing me any good anymore.

I keep thinking about how to tell my psychiatrist goodbye. That is going to be tough and tricky. I have known her longer than I have known my therapist. I have written her multiple goodbye letters over the course of my suicidality. I never once gave her any of them. The last email that I sent her that was sort of a goodbye she sectioned me so I have been cautious about giving her letters such as these. I give too soon and I could be found and hospitalized against my will.

I have noticed a pattern over the years. Every year between August through October I become wicked suicidal, more so than at any other time of year. It has been going on since I was a teenager. Back then, you could expect to be admitted for months. Now you are lucky to be admitted for more than a week. This time, I am not going to be admitted, I am just going to follow through with my ideas. I am tired of living. I am tired of being in severe physical pain. I am too complex to be taken seriously by my practitioners. My therapist said with bated breath today that she loved me. I could tell it wasn’t really true because she really hesitated before saying it. It was like she had to prepare herself to say it quickly so to get it out of the way. I will miss her. I know my death will destroy her but I can’t help that. I tried to get her to get rid of me years ago but she still held on. It’s her fault it will hurt. I told her she could leave at any stage of the game. Now the game is over, I’m afraid. Stalemate.

Writing Itch 2

by Midnight Demon, posted in baseball, Bipolar Disorder, blogging, cauda equina syndrome, chronic physical pain, depression, mental disorders, mental illness, mood disorders, Paranoia, psychache, psychosis

Writing Itch 2

I have been trying all sorts of things to get my mind of the writing itch, I even tried writing in my journal but nothing has scratch it so it calms down.

I am listening to the ball game because it usually calms me down, even though I get excited while listening. They have a new player on the team and I am excited to hear how he pans out.

I have been trying hard on what to write and I still got nothing so this might just be a rant of sorts or just a random thoughts put on a computer screen. Today I read about how my favorite actor, Wil Wheaton was having trouble finding work as an on-screen actor. He really misses being an actor. I miss seeing him on the screen. I wish they would give him a chance because I really think he is a good actor. But I guess as young actors age, they don’t find work so easily. He is busy writing, which has kept him busy. I guess it’s better than doing nothing. And I know how hard it is to write. But he is more creative than I am. I write every day but I don’t think it’s substantial. I have questioned whether what I write really helps people because I don’t get many likes like I used to and my comments are down.

I don’t know if people reading this right now have read my previous blog of the day. I am reading a chapter on the psychologist/psychiatrist Adler. He has a unique perspective of how to treat diagnosis by treating the whole person rather than the diagnosis. It’s kind of what my therapist has been doing, treating me as a person rather than a diagnosis. My psychiatrist also does the same thing. She has been the most liberal psych that I ever had, but the she has been the ONLY outpatient psychiatrist I ever had. I say liberal because she is not a drug pusher like some psychiatrists are. She rather you take less medication than more. That is why I was kind of shocked that when we restarted the Zoloft, I thought she wanted me on 50 mg and instead she wanted me on 100 mg. That is the only time that we kind of disagreed but I am glad I am on 100 mg because it is helping me cope better. It hasn’t really “cured” me of my depression, like most medications, but it does relief some of the symptoms.

I was reading an old notebook that had some journal entries about therapy way back in 2001. It talked about my therapy sessions and what was going on then. I found that despite the years, I am no better. Even though I was reading some blogs from last year, things are the same as far as being depressed and suicidal. I want to “fix” myself but have not been able to find the right treatment even though I have been in treatment. Medication and talk therapy only goes so far. I think that if I wasn’t in chronic pain all the time, I would most likely be better off. I guess you really have to be careful what you wish for because there were times before Cauda Equina Syndrome entered my life that I sometimes wish I was in physical pain than in emotional pain. I had no idea how debilitating physical pain could be. I thought it would be “easier” because there are medications for physical pain. But the daily pain that I have is so exhausting. Even with me trying to take a shower this afternoon was tiring and painful. I could barely stand for 10 minutes to shower. I had to sit for a little bit before I could shut the water off and dry myself. It was terrible. I don’t wish this on my worst enemies. I knew back then in 2000 that I had a bad back. I never should have gone to a chiropractor but I did because it was some relief. I should have stopped going when I was better but they just suck you in for more adjustments because it’s “better for your health”. Yea, right. I wouldn’t recommend them for shit now and especially if you have herniated discs in your back or neck. That is just causing trouble.

This month marks sixteen years that I have known my therapist. We met for the first time but unfortunately, I couldn’t see her right away because of insurance issues. I was so thankful that in January she was still accepting patients. I really don’t know what I would do without her. She has been my voice of reason at times, even though she can be a real pain in the ass as well. She has saved my life numerous times, by telling me she cares for me and sometimes she loves me. I know it’s a kind of love that two people have because I love her, too, though I don’t show it often. I was pretty much in love with her the day I met her. I remember a session where I finally admitted my feelings for her and the next day I saw her, she wore a mini skirt and her legs were and are gorgeous. She doesn’t wear skirts anymore, least not short ones since she is married but good god almighty, I could hardly speak that day. And I was totally like, you got to be kidding me. I got her a birthday present that I will give her at the end of the month when I see her again. Her birthday is this weekend. Got to love Google for helping me find these things about her.

There is a LOT of stuff that I have given her over the years. She must have a file cabinet just for my letters alone. I used to write to her all the time when we were seeing each other. That was when I had a car and she was local, not out in the boonies like she is today. I do miss seeing her but talking on the phone is fine. I think it’s better because I have more face to face contact with her when I see her than I did before. I still might look at the floor than talking with her but there is definitely more face contact. Before I would just spend the entire session looking at a chair or the floor or something on her rug. Anything but her face. It was too scary because I didn’t want the connection. Now that we have the connection, I can look at her without worry, though it still is scary at times.

I sent her the link to my blog again about Chronic pain and suicidality. I want her to read it before our next session because I think it’s important for her to know. She didn’t have time to read it on Monday or before today’s session. If she doesn’t read it, I feel like why bother sending her stuff. Same with the letters. That is why I don’t write them anymore because she doesn’t read them or it takes her a long time to get to them. I know she only has a few minutes between sessions but I just feel like she is missing out on my work if she doesn’t read what I send her. I rather her be late to session than her not reading my blog or letter. If I am putting effort into this thing, the least she can do is try to read it.

I counted my antipsychotic pills (trilafon) and found that I will run out before I see my psychiatrist again. I will have to email her to send another script sometime next week. I thought I wouldn’t run out but if I am taking 2 a day, I will run out. I need to take 2 to keep the paranoia and voices down. I find that it works best if I take it twice a day than once a day. I know my psych just wants me to take it once a day but it doesn’t cover me the whole day. I have tried to just take it at night because that is when the voices are at the worst. It just doesn’t seem to hold me and then a few hours later I will need another dose because I am still up battling the voices so I can sleep. I don’t want to bother her as she is on vacation. She did ask me if I was set on meds and I thought I would be okay with the trilafon but I miscalculated. 30 pills only gets you so far in two weeks. Some days I need 12 mg because the voices are so damn bad. I have been getting musical hallucinations lately that have been god awful. I hear a song over and over like it is playing but it’s not. And it plays the entire song over and over. I have tried listening to music to stop it from playing but it doesn’t help. Then there are a battle between what is in my head and what is actually playing on my MP3 player. It sucks. Least the lyrics haven’t changed so that is good. Sometimes the lyrics will tell me to do things, even if I have heard the same song a million times. It’s just odd. But it’s just part of the psychosis. And it’s worse at night than during the day. Everything is worse at night. My pain, physically and mentally, the voices, the songs, the paranoia, the delusions. Everything.

Harry Potter and other things

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

Harry Potter and other things

I made my monthly trip to Harvard Square to pick up my copy of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child. Just as I thought, it was a script of the London Play that opened up July 30th. It will be interesting to read as I never read a script before. It’s in my pile of “to read” books.

While I was waiting for a friend to get back to me on whether or not we could meet up, there were a ton of police cars racing toward the train station. I have no idea what transpired in the minutes it took for me to walk to the bookstore. I saw that they arrested someone and was being attended to by EMT personnel. Maybe a fight broke out or something. It didn’t affect train traffic, thank goodness. It was all outside the station.

My friend just got back to me. He is booked till late tonight. That’s too bad. I am sure I will be back in the square one of these days so our schedules will match up to meet.

I got really tired as the humidity was bad. It was my first day out in a few days as I have been sleeping almost non stop since Thursday. I had therapy in the afternoon and was pretty alert during session. We talked a little bit about how much the pain is draining me and that I don’t get that much support around my medication issues. My family thinks I shouldn’t be taking anything for my pain or that there should be some magical cure for it. That would be nice but unfortunately, the damage has been done and there is no undoing it.

I did tell my therapist about my sleeping and she said that it could just be that I am exhausted both mentally and physically from dealing with it. I told her the most I have done is taken a shower during the day or afternoon. I took one today and it wasn’t too bad. It woke me up some more. I really wanted to go to Harvard today even though by the time I got to my Square to get coffee, I just wanted to go back home. The bus was there as if taunting me. I walked by and proceeded to Harvard. Also while waiting for my friend to tweet me back, I went to Starbucks and got something to eat. I was kind of hungry as I didn’t eat anything all day. Then when I came home, my mother had a chicken salad. It was good and light. Prevented me from having to cook. I might make something later as those were the only things that I ate.

My therapist didn’t read the blog I sent her so I had to look up what blog I sent her as I didn’t remember. I also don’t remember writing the blog as it was late at night. I was sort of reading it while on the phone with her but it wasn’t registering in my brain. I still have no idea what I wrote. It was about dealing with chronic pain and suicidality. I told my therapist about how I felt about my medication and how it’s really fucking with me right now. I hate being on it but what choice do I have? I hate being on all the meds I am on but again, what choice do I have? And the voices don’t help because they want me to either not take anything or take everything. This is poison, this is okay to take, that isn’t, this is. It’s always a constant battle going on in my head. Most of the times I win, but sometimes I lose. Then it’s more medication to control what I have lost. Sucks. Sure the pressure would be easier if I was in the hospital. They would be controlling my meds but they don’t know how I take my pain meds at home because it’s not written the way I take it. I have tried to get them to change it but it’s no use. I never run out because I still use the same amount of pills a day. I just take two pills instead of 1 twice a day. Sometimes it is more than that but it’s rare. My ex-PCP knows this because I always was straight with him about how I take my meds. But the NP doesn’t ask and I just don’t offer. Then there are days when I am only taking two pills a day. It all depends on my pain level for any given day. But the chronicity of it is what is getting me down.

You would think that after dealing with it for so long (4+ years), I would be used to it by now. I’m not because I could be having low pain like right now and then my pain jumps to 10 in an instant. I could be resting for hours, lie down and wham, pain out of the woodworks. This is why I try to take my pain meds either before my night meds or after because I never know what level pain I am going to be in. That is also hard for me to be in the hospital because I could have no pain, high pain, or low pain. It’s difficult to gauge. And then they are only give me one damn pill and that just pisses me off. I also need to time it right so I can get it on the same shift as day or evening. Only exception is if I wake up in the middle of the night in pain. Then I got night shift to give me my meds. It just sucks.

Dealing with Chronic Pain and Suicidality

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, Chronic pain, chronic physical pain, depression, grief, mental disorders, mental illness, mood disorders, psychache, psychosis, suicidality, suicide, suicide attempt

Dealing with Chronic Pain and Suicidality

Over the past few days, I have been in moderate to severe pain. I have a pain syndrome that flares up without warning, usually right before I am to go to sleep. I will lie down and my ankle and foot will flare up with pain. Normally, I will just take a couple of pain pills, wait for them to kick in and then go to sleep. The pills work because it’s physical pain. What is really troubling me, lately, is the persistent pain, night after night after night.

It doesn’t matter what I do during the day. I can go out, have my daily routine of going to Starbucks and writing for a bit before returning home. I might be out for an hour or two, depending on how much I feel like writing and if the coffee holds out. Lately, despite drinking coffee, I just want to sleep. I have been sleeping more the past week that I have the entire year. A dear friend says that it’s because I haven’t been sleeping and I should take advantage of it because it might not last. I agree with that. It’s unusual for me to sleep all day as I never usually do unless I am deeply depressed.

The other night, I snapped when the pain hit. I became really suicidal and seriously wanted to end my life that night. Trouble was that I was in no position to do it. I vowed never to kill myself in my home where my family members could find me. I have a place that I want to go but the heat has been the only thing holding me back, at the moment. I feel like I don’t have a life. That this battle between chronic pain and depression is just too much to bear. I am tired of fighting it night after night after night.

It’s a tiring battle. I think that is part of the reason I have been so tired lately. I am just mentally and physically exhausted from dealing with my mental illness and my physical illness. No one knows how hard it is unless you deal with one or the other. The past few hours, I have been dealing with a rebound of songs in my head that sound like they are playing but they are not. It’s part of the psychosis. And for the past year, I have been battling that aspect of my illness.

I have known since I was 16 that I needed to be on medication for the rest of my life for my mental illness. I knew there was no other way to deal with it. Through trial and error, I finally found the right combo of meds. Unfortunately, finding the right antipsychotic meds has been elusive. Medications that used to work, no longer do so. I have gone back to the older generation of meds because they work for me better than the second generation. It’s a little bit more riskier because of side effects but I am not on that high of a dose. I just hope that in a month or two I am still on the same medication and that I don’t need to change. That is my fear.

I have known for a very long time the odds of me taking my life is great. I am in the high risk category of risk because of my past history. I can write about this history but it’s not important and will take up too much of time. I just know that one day my life will end by my own hand. I know that this will happen because I feel it. I know that it will happen sometime this year. My biggest fear is that if there is a heaven or hell, I will spend eternity with my father and that is something that sometimes keeps me here. But I don’t believe in those things but who knows what truly happens when you die.

They say that most people who are suicidal just want to end their pain. That is true. I want to end my pain and my suffering because no one can help me with it. Yes, I take pain meds to deal with the physical aspect of my suffering and it does help. But it does nothing for my psychache, for my psychological pain that I feel. I still feel that I should die because I am so damn tired of living this so called life. I don’t have a reason for living. I don’t have a purpose. I have nothing keeping me here. Sure I have my family that are dear to me. But what good is it if I can’t enjoy their presence because of pain? That I can stay with them for a short while and then have to go back up to my room to put my foot up because otherwise I am in too much pain to be good to anyone? Sometimes, I really think that my family and the people in my life will be better off without me.