Tag: disability

Some Thoughts on a Saturday Evening

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

Some thoughts on a Saturday evening

I recently found out that a friend of mine on Twitter lost someone by suicide. She had interviewed this person two years ago for her photo thing called “Live Through This” (www.livethroughthis.org). I was sad to hear this because I thought people who were interviewed were somehow free of suicidal thoughts, that they had their life together after their attempt. I never was interviewed because I don’t want the exposure and I didn’t think I had anything positive to contribute because my moods were so bleak. I also was actively suicidal at times. I still think one day I will die by my own hand, that is if some alien parasite doesn’t take it first.

I have been reading over my blogs from 2-3 years ago. The blogs were all about the severe pain I was in with my ankle/foot and how suicidal it was making me. I also wasn’t getting any support from my PCP. He just wanted to “fix” me but really couldn’t. He also was very discriminating towards me because of my weight. There were blogs on the visits where he just wanted me to be more active. How was I going to be more active if I couldn’t walk without severe pain? Even on the last visit he wanted me to go to some program to learn to live with the pain and gain function. I know he doesn’t want me on my pain medication but I really don’t have a choice. It’s either be on this medication or end my life. That is how I see it.

This evening, I have been thinking about suicide. My foot has been aggravating me all day. It didn’t help that I kept on going up and down the stairs or that I fixed my lunch or put away all my groceries. I just don’t want to be in pain anymore. And I am tired of being in this depression that has been going on for months. Despite me being on medication for it, I don’t feel relief. It could be that the grief of my father has clouded my thinking. I just know that I can’t go on living like this. I have the means to end my life. I just don’t know if it will be enough. I don’t want to attempt and fail. That to me will be worse than dying.

I have been trying not to think about this plan that I cooked up months ago. I just am so sad. I have been reading today to distract myself. I was reading “Common Struggle” by PJ Kennedy. He was talking about his addiction to alcohol and pain meds. He was hooked on oxycontin. I was on that drug many years ago. It worked for me but then it made me kind of manic. I was glad to get off it. I am glad I am no longer taking it. It just did a number on me psychologically. My current pain meds don’t affect me that way. They help the pain and make me sleepy at times, but not all the time. If I am already exhausted, sure, I will get sleepy. But if I am already catching my second wind, they will not knock me out. I don’t know why sometimes it does and sometimes it doesn’t. It’s just weird. And it’s the same dose that I take so I really can’t understand it. But getting back to Kennedy, he made me appreciate that I do not have an addiction problem when I could very easily. Addiction runs in my family, but mostly for the illicit kind like cocaine and heroin. I have had one cousin die from a speedball (combo of coke and heroin). They ruled it an accidental death but I learned that a week before he died he was giving away possessions so I think it was more of a suicide.

I often wonder what it would be like to be dead. I just don’t want to be anymore. I am tired of living. In Kennedy’s book, he said that he didn’t have suicidal tendencies because if he did, he would probably be dead. Given the amount of alcohol he consumed and the pain meds, I would say he wouldn’t survive an attempt. I wonder why I am still alive. I know it has been a long while since I last attempted. But even though I have meticulously planned out a suicide plan, I have never gone through with it. My therapist or psychiatrist always seem to pull me away from going ahead with the plan, either with increased sessions or with them telling me how devastated they would be with my loss. I don’t get what they see in me.

I always feel they will be better off without me. They can’t stop me. No one can really. Sure they can hospitalize me but there is always discharge a few days later. And I know the system to get out and in. They know I know this. It’s just a matter of time before I act on my feelings. It may not be today or tomorrow but it will be soon.

Did too much and paying for it

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

Did too much and paying for it

Nearly every day this week, I have made a trip to Starbucks. And practically every night, I have been paying for it. I usually go every other day because I need a rest day in between. But I didn’t take a rest day because I felt “okay”. Now it’s the end of the week and I am hurting really bad. So bad, that it’s making depressed.

I wish I was seeing my psychiatrist earlier than next Friday. I feel like I am hanging by a thread today. The voices have been non stop since I let them in. They just won’t shut up. I don’t understand it because I haven’t been stressed and we were just having a normal conversation. Nothing stressful or triggering. Now my brain is just firing away and the voices are wicked loud. I am in serious pain and I just can’t quiet them down to think of what I can do to ease it. I have music playing to try and distract me.

I took some pain meds once I got a break. Then I was quizzed on how many I took and why I was taking them. They always want me to take more than what I need, like more is better. More isn’t better. It’s no more effective than taking a handful of Tylenol for a headache. They just want me to hurt myself. I will do it with other drugs but not my pain meds. I don’t want to die like my father, with liver problems due to the Tylenol that is in my pain meds. I am not stupid like the voices think I am.

I haven’t told my therapist about all this. Not much she can do about it anyways. Even if I text her to talk to her, the most she is going to say is for me to page my psych or go to the ER. If I go to the ER, chance are I will be admitted. I don’t want to be admitted so the ER is out. I can be admitted after the 17th when I see my psych and get my pain meds appointment. I really was hoping that I wouldn’t need another admission so soon after my last one. But then, I wasn’t expecting to become psychotic either.

Being in pain is not helping my thoughts. I feel really depressed and it’s feeding the suicide demons. For the first time in two months (?), I am thinking of taking my life again. It’s not serious. It is just in passing, like what if I would take my life? Then I think of the plan that I cooked up a few months ago. I can still go through with it. It could work this time. A more lethal medication. Only question is, do I actually have enough to kill myself. The LD is 10 mg and I am not sure I have it. I have to count the pills and I am scared to because it will just mean one more step closer to killing myself when I want to.

After my father died, I was thinking about getting a life insurance policy. I got a response from the one I applied for online. They want medical documentation for my illnesses. Nope. Not getting it. Chances are they will have this information just to deny me. I will find another policy holder. I thought it would be too easy to get on the first try. I never got life insurance through my work. I did have insurance in case something happened to me while I working. It was something like $100,000 coverage in case of injury or accidental death and it was for something ridiculously small amount of like $6/wk. There were higher amounts but that was the cheapest and in my line of work, the risk of me losing a limb was quite low.

I wanted to get the life insurance just in case something happened to me. Then my family wouldn’t have to scramble like we did for my father with arrangements and such. I do have a pension with my work but I don’t know what happens to it when I die. Maybe I should find out. It most likely will die with me.

Soon as the pain meds kick in, I will take my night meds. I was going to listen to the game but I don’t feel up to it. I will follow it on Twitter or the MLB website until I can’t fight sleep any longer. Or I might just read something so I can feel like I did something productive today. Today just feels wasted. Voices are loud now. They are pissed I am typing and ignoring them. Maybe I will take a trilafon, too.

Progress?

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

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Progress?

I finally cleared off my bed of most of the books and clothes that had accumulated on the corner of my bed. I also cleared my “office”. Now I just need the motivation and energy to change my damn sheets. I rewarded myself with clearing my bed by going to Starbucks and getting a cold brew vanilla sweet cream iced coffee. I was then rewarded with my bowels going haywire soon after reaching home. I seriously thought I sharted but it was just air, thank goodness. I am now exhausted and my ankle is giving me grief so no sheet changing. Least not for now. My back has been having cramps since I left Starbucks so I am just going to rest. I still have a little stuff on my bed that I need to clear off but the majority of my bed is clear.

Today’s word prompt is “Playful”. It’s funny how these words that don’t have any particular order have significance in my life. I was reminiscing with the voices the other day about how my father hated any type of play that my sisters and I did around him. During one of his angry rages, he broke a treasured chess set that I got for Christmas one year. I never forgave him for breaking it on me. Still haven’t. He never apologized for breaking it and he knew I was upset over it. I tried fixing this set but it was not really the same afterwards.

Another time, I was at my then little cousin’s house. We were playing and I came out of his room with one of his toys because they were really cool. I forget why I left the other kids, but my father flipped the fuck out, saying I was not a kid and shouldn’t be playing with toys. I was like 12? It really hurt me and I cried I was so upset. I think I went in the bathroom to cry. My cousin’s mother saw this and said it was okay for me to play.

Both times that I have recounted this story, it brought tears to my eyes. I think it was the kindness my cousin showed me that proved that not all parents are bad and mean like my father. I have other memories that are painful but I won’t rehash them today.

I got an email from TSPN (Tennessee Suicide Prevention Network). They apologized for taking my work without my permission. They said they would inform me in the future if they want to use my work for their newsletter. They also encouraged me to contribute more things to them, if I desired. I think I might write up something for them. If you are an attempt survivor and want to contribute your story, contact them through http://www.tspn.org. The name of the newsletter is called “can you hear me” (CYHM).

When I came home from Starbucks, or as I was on my way home, I became really paranoid. It was very scary. I thought people and objects were talking to me. As a bus drove by a van, I could have sworn it was talking to me. I couldn’t wait to get off the bus. I have never been psychotic like that before. I took a trilafon when I got home because I was so agitated. I am feeling a little bit better now. I wish my psych was available. I would page her to let her know this happened. I still feel kind of uneasy. But the trilafon is helping me so I don’t think I need anymore meds to feel calmer. The nice thing about this drug is that it lasts for at least eight hours so I should be covered until I take the abilify tonight.

Speaking of abilify, I was reading a blog today where the blogger was having bad side effects from the medication. She is experiencing agitation, more mental than physical and it’s making her feel suicidal. She carefully weighed this drug over many others before taking it. I guess the Seroquel she was taking was no longer working for her so she needed to switch meds. She is also experiencing insomnia. Not good for someone who has bipolar disorder. I hope her psychiatrist gets back to her about what to do and she seeks help before acting on her urges. I wanted to comment on her blog but I had no advice as abilify has worked well for me, aside from the extrapyramidal symptoms I experience every now and then. I take Ativan to counteract them. Otherwise, I would be so screwed. I have noticed that as I have gotten older, my psychotic symptoms have gotten worse. I used to be able to take an anti-psychotic just when I was having symptoms. But since 2008 when I had a psychotic break, I can’t stop my meds at all. Even missing a dose can send me into a psychotic delusion. I have been on many meds for psychosis but they have had serious side effects. I can make a list but there is no point. It’s an exhaustive list. You name it, I probably have been on it (unless it’s come out after 2009). The only class of drugs that I have NOT been on are the MAOIs. That is because I don’t like the diet restrictions these medications have. I am lucky that the current regimen that I take suits me.

Purpose

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

Purpose

Everyone needs a purpose in life. It is what drives us. But sometimes when we are very depressed and feeling worthless, our purpose might not be so clear cut. We often think while depressed, that people will be better off without us, that we don’t matter. This may lead us to become suicidal. And then our true purpose is lost to us. All we think about is death because we have no purpose to go on living. It’s especially precarious after we lost the ones we love due to illness, divorce or if we lost our job. What does it mean to go on after so much loss?

In therapy, therapists often try to give us a life worth living. But what does that mean if we have no purpose for being? It often hurts too much to go on living. Sometimes there are protective factors that keep us here, like family, friends, or children we love and wouldn’t want to hurt with our death. It’s difficult to balance this when you feel so damn low and want to end the pain so badly. It tears at you night and day to go on living in this pain.

My sense of purpose is construed. Others can see that I have one but most times, I don’t see it in myself. It’s hard going on without something to keep me going. I often wonder why I am here. I should be dead three times over, yet I still exist. I am tired of just existing. There is so much I want to do yet I am hindered due to my disabilities. I am often frustrated and suicidal, not a good combo. My depressions are severe and debilitating. My chronic physical pain is as well. I can’t work anymore. I don’t have any friends that are close by that I talk to on a regular basis. I have my online friends, without whom, I think I would feel totally alone, trapped in my room. My therapist and psychiatrist think I am a writer. But since my father’s illness and subsequent death, I have not written much. I had this blog to keep me going, as a challenge to myself to write something every day. Sometimes, I would write two to three times a day. But it’s hard work. Some days it is easier to write than others.

My blog gives me a purpose you can say. I write and get feedback. Most times I don’t but I know the readership is there because I am a stats freak. I watch my numbers go up every day. Sometimes it’s the same blog that gets read several times, and that is ok. My purpose has been fulfilled if it helps someone to understand what it is like living with chronic depression, suicidality, and physical pain.