Tag: disability
Am I a hopeless case?
Am I a hopeless case?
My med alarm woke me up. I reluctantly sat up to take them. I wanted to go back to sleep but my bladder said it had to go. It was really quiet in my house so I thought my mother was out. I went downstairs and peeked in the kitchen. My mother was there and the TV was on mute, hence why it was quiet. I did my business and brushed my teeth. I went upstairs wanting to go back to sleep but I needed to pick up my package at the FedEx office. I was debating on how to get there. Then I got a phone call that wrecked my day.
The phone call was the social service dept at the hospital where all my doctors are (except my neurologist who is at a different hospital). I could tell by her voice she wasn’t going to give me pleasant news. She was speaking slowly which was annoying. I let her say what she needed to. The whomever decided I needed “long term care” and they do not provide it. So she gave me some other places I could try. I got upset. One of the places she “recommended I try” was Psychology Today’s website and I told her the therapists there do what you are doing to me once they hear my history. She was taken aback by that. It is true, that is why I am stuck in therapist limbo because I have a history of suicide attempts AND could possibly be in crisis, which makes therapists uncomfortable. Rather than dealing with it, they just don’t see you or pass you on to someone else. So I got a few contacts, one was a social worker referral line. I am not going to call them. I sent a message to my PCP’s social worker to let her know I was upset they denied me services.
After the phone call, I just cried. I was so frustrated and angry and when I get like that, I just cry. I felt pretty hopeless. I feel like I am just this hopeless case no one wants to take on. I still have the other therapist I put on hold but I really don’t want to go back to see him when he really hasn’t helped me in the year I saw him. All I got from him was venting my frustrations on my medical care and other stresses, like my mother being an asshole. I wrote to my psychiatrist to let her know. She told me the hospital does not provide therapy (then why are they number 1 in psychiatry???) and we will talk about this more tomorrow. I didn’t respond to the email. I had started to cry again.
I feel utterly defeated, worse than I have ever felt about not having a therapist since 2016. I keep replaying the scenario in my mind when I asked my therapist if we should end, not expecting a yes but got a yes. I was shocked. Then I couldn’t get a hold of her as it was the holidays and I just thought when I spoke to her next things would be eased out and we go back the way it was before. Nope, she was going to terminate. In a month. With no appointments in between that January appointment and the February one. Since then I had to call like seven therapist before I landed the one I saw until my physical mobility was shot. I think I stopped seeing him in January. I wasn’t getting much from him anyways. More than a few times, he pissed me off so much I would cancel the next appointment. He never asked why, just did it and never talked about it. All my previous therapists always asked why I canceled and got the third degree when I did so. In a lot of ways he is different than all of the ones I saw before. But he was okay with me being suicidal. I could talk about it with him like I couldn’t with anyone else. But that is all it was, talking. No plans or structure or anything else to cope with how horrible I felt. So even though I had someone I could talk to, I often felt alone with what I talked about because there was a lack of care with the heaviness I spoke about. No idea if I am making sense. The last straw for me with him was when he told me to Google relaxation techniques after I told him my PTSD was keeping me from sleeping. He just said it was “anxiety” keeping me up. So now I will have Google as my therapist. No one else wants the job.
Migraine because bright days suck
Migraine because bright days suck
Lately, I have been really photosensitive. I don’t know if it is because of the pain or that my migraine activity has been ramped up due to the pressure and weather changes we have been having the past couple of weeks. I reluctantly got up, took my meds, and then had to make something to eat because I was starving. I must have sat in the bright kitchen maybe twenty minutes when my head started to hurt. Then the noise from the TV in the living room was like a hammer to my head. I couldn’t stand to look out of the windows in the French doors. I took some ibuprofen and then retreated to my room.
I want to make the chili cornbread my barber likes. I forgot to take out the frozen corn so need to let it thaw a bit. I can’t stand being in the brightly lit kitchen anyways. I took my migraine meds and I am hoping that settles down the brain squishing in my head. I don’t know what I am going to do when it goes away and I have to be in the kitchen. Maybe I will wait till the sun goes down to make it. My mother won’t eat it so it will only be for me. I won’t eat the whole thing (I never do, which is why I give it away). I will be making a little thing for myself so I don’t have to take a slice. It is better this way as the cornbread mix is kind of too much for the pan and overflows while baking it. Last time I held some aside in its own dish it was perfect.
Facebook seems to be down right now. I don’t know when it will be back up. I had a funny story with my mother I wanted to post. I probably will later. I try to post these conversations so they give me a laugh later.
Alan Alda posted a thing on Twitter about his podcast. At the end of each podcast, he asks seven questions. He wanted his followers to answer them and possibly be picked for his show. I was stumped on two of the questions. One was “what do you wish people understood about you” and the other was “what is the strangest question anyone has asked you”. I had to really think about it and the strangest question was how did I know I was male? The other was probably to have people realize that there are relapses in dealing with my mental illness. People seem to think that when you are down and then come back up, you are okay from now on and that really isn’t always the case. Like my suicidality may go away for a bit when my depression lessens or I am really looking forward to something important. Eventually though, it comes back and festers. I am sort of lucky I haven’t made an attempt in a long time but I plan a lot of ways I should die. I sometimes will be okay for a few days when my pain is less (if that was the trigger that caused it).
Thank god. My computer restarted for windows update before I saved this document. I would have been pissed if it was lost. I just finished with making the chili cornbread casserole. It was really good. Unfortunately, I had only half of what I made for myself because I had chips waiting for it to be done. Oven took more than hour to cook. I had the infrared gun show it was 350 degrees (supposed to be 380). About forty-five minutes later, the temp dropped to 260. My mother is being so fucking picky over the colors of the stove. We have a white top and black oven. No one sells this anymore. It is all one color so doesn’t want it. I am ready to just take her card and order one and just be like too bad, you waited too long! Fuck. Been at least three months since she knew we needed another one. I am so hesitant to use it anymore because I can’t spend all day waiting for things to bake or cook. My fricken foot and ankle right now is a 10. I have no idea if the foot will swell or not. It still is swollen from Monday night. Stupid pressure went up so I hope it levels off, but I doubt it. Temps are going up tomorrow so I am going to take it easy the rest of the night. I need to go to the FedEx place to pick up my package. I will go to the Starbucks there, too. Because I had to finagle the bagel, I didn’t put too much funds on my Starbucks card. I am not going there regularly anyways.
My barber is working tomorrow but doesn’t know when he will be in the shop as he has something to do in the morning. I will be taking his food Friday, which is just as well as I finally got an appointment with my psychiatrist. It is late afternoon, which I don’t like but will take it as I need to see her. It probably is better that way as I have been having the hardest time getting up before noon.
Daylight saving time sucks!
Daylight saving time sucks!
Last night I was just reading. I finished Langford’s Leap by Ted Boone. It was such a good female hero book. I cannot wait for the second book to come out. After I finished that, I read this memoir that I started in December. I might have mentioned it before as a “sugar-coated” book. It is terribly written and I just couldn’t finish it. It was getting me so damn frustrated because of the drops and not explaining then going on to something else. It also used mental health and mental illness like it was interchangeable (sorry, it most definitely is not). The author never went into her symptoms so I find it hard to relate to something when this was similar to what I have been writing for a while now. It was like she was putting it out there and then just left it there. Like she would say she was suicidal or had a suicide attempt where she didn’t care if she did or didn’t die but no background to what lead up to that point, no talk of depression or despair or frustration, nothing. I especially didn’t like where she was talking about mass shootings and there was a KEY word missing in the sentence. I had read it three times and it was just bad. Terrible editing on whoever did it. I just decided to write a review and called it a day.
I then went to Harry Potter and got sucked into the wizard world. Around 0030, I finally put the book down and tried to sleep. It took a few tries to get comfortable and then out of nowhere, my damn right instep was killing me. I took some ibuprofen and Tylenol. I couldn’t figure out why it was hurting so bad. I had only got up once to stretch the whole time I read, and there were at least 3 or 4 hours where I was just on my bed. I finally decided to put some diclofenac gel on and then I realized why I was hurting. The golf ball size swelling had moved up my foot and was very inflamed. I don’t know if while lying down the weight of my other foot set it off or what. I had got up around 0130 and realized that in a half hour, it was going to be 3 am instead of 2 due to the time change. I wasn’t looking forward to that because it was going to throw me off. Next thing I know it is 4 am because I decided to read Harry again to wait for the meds to work their magic. I fell asleep somewhere around 0430.
I woke up a few hours later because my mother got up. She is not quiet and her breathing is very labored. As much as I hate the woman, I care for her wellbeing, though I try not to as she doesn’t listen to me anyway. Her breathing is like she is puffing the air out of her lungs. Her COPD is worse (though she will say her knees are causing it). She doesn’t use her inhalers at all. She had paid for a nebulizer and used it maybe a week or two. Now not using it all. Her breathing was slightly better than it was but now without the medication, she is back to her huffing and puffing. I have to listen to her as she climbs the stairs every night just to make sure she doesn’t collapse. I am hoping that when my sister lives with us, I don’t have to worry so much. I wish she would just move her bedroom into the dining room but nope, she doesn’t want to give it up despite her not using it for anything other than her gatsies (little trinkets and things just used for display). I understand her mother gave her those things, or rather were my grandmother’s things before she died but all it is doing is collecting dust. Today she refused to yield me any fucking space to put my mugs yet wanted them in my room. Fuck, seriously? Seriously. She wouldn’t allow me to keep things even though I would like space to. She is just so fucking selfish when it comes to the house, this is mine and that is mine so you can’t use it. Meanwhile she nearly burnt the crap out of my new kettle because she didn’t put enough water in it for making her coffee. She leaves water in it so the bottom of the thing is starting to rust. That is okay though…because she didn’t buy it. I am ready to buy an electric water kettle just so she doesn’t use mine and can do what ever she wants, which she does anyway. I just get so fucking frustrated because she tells me how to live my life, doesn’t use my changed name, doesn’t respect me in any way, shape, or form. Today she had the gall to say G or my birthname or what ever you are. I got mad and said what am I to you, two different people? Then she spewed that she has been calling me my birthname for 40 years so isn’t going to change. Fuck you too. I don’t know why the fuck I bother. I get so hurt and she doesn’t care. She is so transphobic.
I wanted to change my sheets today but my CRPS foot is giving me grief. It has been snowing and raining most of the day so that is probably why. I ordered take out for the first time in a few months. I wanted a burrito but the place didn’t have drivers so canceled my order. I was disappointed. I ordered a burger from another place. Now both feet are killing me just from going up and downstairs. I fucking hate being in pain all the fucking time. It is the biggest trigger of my suicidal thoughts. I am still thinking of my plan. I don’t know if I will go through with it but it is on the backburner. Tomorrow I am seeing my PCP’s social worker to work on some financial planning and things. I hope that she can maybe speed up the process for therapy as I am really needing to talk to someone about things. I know I have this blog but sometimes actually talking to someone helps unload things. I don’t want to call my friends because I don’t want them to worry or be mad at me. Just sucks that even though the majority of my friends accepts that I have depression, some are not so accepting that I have suicidal thoughts and plans, even if it is just to hear me out. I no longer bring it up with them. I guess it is a “don’t ask, don’t tell” situation, which really bugs me. As many times as I have had trouble with therapists, it is the same. No one wants to truly hear how dark my thoughts are. Makes me feel more alone with each passing day. I know there are people out there that say “you aren’t alone” but when you are chronically suicidal, you really are. I just wish I would go through with it so it will end.
midnightdemons7 
You must be logged in to post a comment.