Tag: depression

maybe I won’t feel so bad

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

Maybe I won’t feel so bad

I took my pain pills. Then I made something to eat that woke me up. Now I had some gin. Just two shots of Beefeater. Believe me when I say I wanted to finish the bottle but the shit is tearing up my guts big time. You don’t realize the restraint. But after the day I had, I deserve a drink or two.

Foot is acting up big time. I had to put on thermal socks because my feet got cold. They are warm but not toasty yet. Soon as they do, I will take them off. I hate sleeping with socks on. I think the alcohol has been absorbed through my stomach lining. I feel great. I really want to finish the bottle. But that is playing with fire.

I have never mixed alcohol with opioids before. But I needed a drink and the gin was handy. Much closer than my honey whiskey. I did that on purpose. I was tired of staring at it on my desk so I moved it closer to the bedside. It has been there for months judging by the level of dust on the bottle. I am not a drinker, per se. But I do binge drink when I am in the mood. I am not in the mood tonight. I might have one or two more shots of gin before bed. I hope it will make me sleep. Least it will do is make me toss and turn. I keep thinking of the song by Eric Church, “Mixed drinks about feelings”. Cause “my figured out has never been more confused”. I can tell by the heavy in my heart that I’m going down soon.

The lyrics are so damn powerful. I had four shots of gin. That is all I am going to have tonight. HAHA I just realized I also had benzos with my alcohol. Man, I wonder if I will wake up tomorrow. This wasn’t planned. And I don’t think I will tell my therapist about this information. She will freak the fuck out. I also won’t tell my psych. She will freak out. Might even section me. Or force me to get blood work. I had a bad outing with my father. It’s his fault. Bastard doesn’t know what he does to me.

Whiskey soothes but I toss and turn. I’ll find sleep till dreams relent, wake up tired and try again.

No use fighting the fight its not contest tonight my figured out has never been more confused

Love this song so much. I have tweeted Eric the song many times but have not got a tweet back. I keep trying through.

National Pi Day

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

National Pi Day

I didn’t have pie though I probably could have if I really wanted it. I was in no mood because I spent 12 fricken hours with my asshole father. I threatened I would hang up on my therapist tomorrow if she brings him up. I am so disgusted with him that I really can’t say anymore other than my day was wasted. I got nothing done that I wanted to get done today. I didn’t go to Starbucks this morning to write. I didn’t make phone calls I was supposed to make. Nor did I drop off paperwork to my PCP’s office because of this jerk.

I didn’t eat anything today except a cheese Danish. I did go to Starbucks, though not the one I wanted to sit and write at. I just had my soy latte while my sister dealt with dear old dad while I vegged out some. I am hungry but I also have a splitting headache and feel nauseous. So after this blog, I am shutting the lights and going to sleep.

I also haven’t taken one pain pill all day. Probably why I feel sick to my stomach. I wasn’t planning on being with my father 12 hours. It just happened to be that way because he is a fuck. I just hope my psychiatrist doesn’t get mad at me when I sent her the email I did. It was a vent of the blog post that is private. Only select bloggers have access to it. I am too paranoid that my sisters might get hold of it so I keep the key locked.

I really didn’t want to eat today. I probably would have if my day went as planned. I probably would have had my double smoked bacon egg sandwich at Starbucks before I started to write. But that didn’t happen. I am so damn angry it’s not funny. Bastard is going to drown in his own fluids and he doesn’t want medical treatment so fuck him. He thinks his doc is going to save him and only this doc. I have to laugh. My father has it in his tiny brain that he is immortal. Oh and there is nothing wrong with him at all. He just takes medication for his heart for nothing. Just a jest. To humor me and his doctors I guess. Bastard he is.

I told my therapist that she is not to bring him up at all or I will hang up on her. I am not wasting any time talking about today with her at all. We can talk about it on Wednesday when I am in a less private space to talk. I actually have no idea where I will be to talk to my therapist on Wednesday as I will be at the hospital for all three of my appointments. I wish I still had an office I could go to. If the weather is nice, I will be outside. Otherwise I will be scrambling for a space in a public area.

I need to take a shower tomorrow or at least cut my finger nails. I don’t know why they grow so damn fast. I hate cutting them but I must because I hate long fingernails more than ¼ of an inch. It’s probably smaller than that but that is my estimate.

Afraid to Write

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

Afraid to Write

I was talking with a friend of mine tonight. Somehow we got to talking about this month being an anniversary month. She wanted to know more and it brought up some painful feelings. I told her briefly what went on and that was it, my PTSD symptoms were activated. She wanted me to write or to talk about what happened. I told her I did. But now I am afraid to write because of my fears.

My sister brought up the night about my father and my cousin a couple of days ago. It hasn’t left my mind. They were there when my father flipped out and took out his gun. Though I don’t know where they were in the house. I was in the living room trying to watch TV and failing. I don’t even remember the show that was on. I was too into what was going on around me and frighten about what would happen. Never in a million years would I think my father would become so violent as to pull a gun on someone. Never. Sure he made threats to kill someone every now and then but I never thought he would go through with it. He was an angry man and still is.

I texted my therapist that I keep having flashbacks/intrusive memories. I know she is going to want to talk about what happened. I don’t know if I ever told the story in detail and I have had so many therapists that I thought I would be over this shit by now. Why is it affected more this year than any other year? Last year it didn’t bother me, not like this. I am afraid to write about it for fear of being pulled back and not being able to get out of 1991. I was 15 then and that was a long time ago.

Pain is keeping me from sleeping. Every time I lie down, my pain increases. If I sit up, it decreases. I wish I could sleep sitting up but I can’t. My back starts to ache and I need to lie down to relieve the pressure of sitting. I just need to wait till the pain meds start to kick in and make me drowsy enough so I can sleep. I am already tired so it shouldn’t be long. But then I never know when the meds will take effect. But if I my anxiety is up, forget it, like it is now. I have no chance of falling asleep.

I haven’t written in my journal for over a week now. I don’t know why that is. I keep staring at it and it stares back. I am afraid to write because I am not sure what feelings are going to get stirred up. If I describe my flashbacks, it will be too scary and I know I will not sleep. Best to avoid that kind of shit this late at night anyways. But my night time writing has always been my solace. It helps me to sleep. I just can’t trust it tonight, not when I have to be functional tomorrow to deal with angry father. Oh and if you are reading this, he is NOT my dad. Never was and never will be. He is my father and that is how he is to be named. Though lately, I prefer to call him fuckface, but that is my calling him that. No one else can.

Jack, my angry alter, came out the other night. I don’t know what triggered him but boy was he angry. I didn’t think he was ever going to settle down. He usually is mad at my therapist but I have had contact with her since Thursday. He thinks she is tired of me. He doesn’t trust her. I don’t blame him. He has been let down by so many therapists. He wanted to talk and they just shut him down.

For good measure, I took some Ativan. That ought to hold off the intrusive stuff. I really don’t want to talk about it with my therapist. It’s too scary.

Sunday Blog 10

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

Last night I was a little bit anxious to sleep. I had a lot of thoughts running through my head. I didn’t know what to do first. The more I thought about things, the more energy I got. It was at least 0300 before I settled down for bed. I signed up for Netflix but didn’t have the patience to wait for the show to download. I think I am going to try again tonight and if the same thing happens, I am just going to cancel my membership before I get charged.

My mother called “looking” for me. I told her I was in my room and then she asked how my leg was. I told her it still hurt. Then she asked if the pills work. I didn’t tell her I didn’t take any. I just wanted her off the damn phone. She then tells me to tell the doc the pills aren’t working. Yea, okay. I asked her what she wanted and she said well, if you don’t want my advice…WTF Did I ask for it?? Seriously can’t stand her.

I watched half an inning of the Sox game. They were already losing 13-5 in the 8th inning. Pitiful. I heard from the group that I belong to that the starting pitcher didn’t care. No shit. He never does. I can’t stand him and we have him for another two years.

Last night in my anxiety ridden condition, I started taking notes on one of the books that I am reading so I can write a review. Frankly, the book is a piece of shit and is very misleading. This is without me even reading a single chapter. But I am going to read it to prove it’s a piece of shit.

Tomorrow I have the appointment with my father. All week I have appointments. Wednesday is the jackpot. I have three appointments that day. I am going to be so tuckered out it’s not funny. I will have a break in between appointments so I will go to Starbucks to keep myself fueled. I hope it’s a nice a day out and not snowy. I haven’t seen the weekly report yet. It was warm today but tomorrow is supposed to snow. Figures. My father is not going to like that. I got to call him and tell him where to meet him.

I really just want to go back to sleep. My mother is making a pot pie. I do but don’t want to eat. I had a bowl of cereal this morning and it’s all I had all day. Seems my appetite has gone back to one day I have it, the next I don’t. I’m still feeling depressed. And the guilts have crept in. I don’t know why I feel so guilty and I don’t know what for but I do. I also feel worthless, but that goes without saying. I emailed my psychiatrist to let her know these things. Mostly I do so I don’t forget to tell her.