Tag: dissociative identity disorder

Parts and Loss

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

Parts and Loss

I was remembering today how crazy I was to my work email. I had it on my phone and of course, my home computer. I had to always be ready to answer questions. Now when I get a notification from my personal email, I am thinking it’s from a friend or my psychiatrist when in actuality it’s the bank wanting an equity loan or some other “junk” mail. I am getting more and more junk mail than I get from actual people. It makes me feel less connected in the world and just fuels my suicidality.

I had my therapy session and she really annoyed me today. We were talking a little of everything, including my suicidality. In an effort to “know” where I was coming, she kept questioning where these “parts” were coming from. She kept on naming Hyde and Jack and then when I answered no, she asked if someone else was in there. I was so pissed off. I felt like I, the ME part, didn’t exist and she was just dividing me up. It was so frustrating. I threatened to hang up on her if she continued with this line of questioning and then I got the “sigh” and I was tempted to hang up right then.

I feel like she just can’t take my suicidality and has to put it on a “part” so that we can deal with it or not. We never, over the course of 15 years, did this before. It wasn’t until Hyde showed up and keeps showing up that she thinks this. I don’t think this. I am in control of my thoughts and selves, if you want to call it that. It just pisses me off when she thinks something more is going on and there isn’t. I don’t know how many “I want to die” statements came out during session today or some variation of it.

I told her what my plan was. I don’t know why I did. It’s not like she can stop me. She doesn’t know the date I picked out. It’s just a mystery to her for now. I need an escape and I am going to get it, dammit. I really just don’t want to live anymore. I am tired of being in pain, physically. Dealing with my father was just the icing on the damn cake. He always makes me feel so worthless. I am nothing to him. Just his “secretary” as he calls me. I was going to make another damn doc appointment for him, but fuck him. I’ll make it next week sometime.

I never usually threaten to hang up on my therapist. But today, she was just so annoying. Maybe I just wasn’t in the mood. I feel like she was playing games with me or something trying to figure out if there were other parts in play, I really do. Or just trying to piss me off so Jack would come out. And the fucking sigh afterwards when I told her I would hang up on her. I could almost see her face as she made it. I wanted time to be over, right then and there. Then the wise ass said I have the floor, meaning I could talk about whatever I wanted. Isn’t that what the hell therapy is about?? I talked more about wanting to die. I just feel like she just wasn’t hearing me today for some reason when I was telling her this. Like it was going in one ear and out the other. I just got no response whatsoever. I felt like my words were empty, which only made me feeling worthless more so.

We talked about my writing and how I wanted to read a psychology book to do research. I know I can go on the web, but I want old school. I need the book and the highlighters. There was a good psychology book that I had when I was studying psych 101 by Zimbardo. If I can’t find my copy (only God knows where it is), maybe I will buy another. I really don’t even remember the name other than having psychology in the title. I think it was co-authored with his wife, but I could be wrong. This is going back almost 20 years ago.

She asked about my writing and that is how the conversation went. I think I talked in greater detail about my ideas in the previous blog so I won’t repeat myself here. She always inquires about my writing. My psychiatrist too. Today I learned from this writing book that people will do that not to annoy the writer but to see where they are in the writing process. I always felt guilty because I feel other than writing this blog, I don’t write anything else, usually. I journal, sure, but that is the same as blogging with the exception of it being on paper rather than the web. They are my outlets. But I haven’t touched a story for my book in months. I might have played around with the technical stuff, like fonts and inserting number pages, but that is all. No writing. The book also says that you should read with a critical eye. I did that with a book I got off Facebook and found myself editing as I was reading it. I couldn’t finish the book or get past the first few pages! There was so much I could change with it, it wasn’t funny. But it wasn’t my book to be changed. It’s the first book that I ever gave up reading.

Monday Blues

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

Monday Blues

I took my father to his appointment. We got there early and they took him early, which was a shock as the last few appointments they were late. They had a piano playing so I couldn’t read. Live music tends to interfere with my reading voice. So I just played with my phone and texted my sister. My mother is not destined to have a new fridge. She ordered a new one but they had trouble getting it up the stairs. So again, no new fridge. My mother is very upset as am I. I wish she would just let me order from the Sears website but she doesn’t trust her information on the web. UGH. So annoying!

Things with my father went well until the last leg home. That is when he annoyed the hell out of me. My father isn’t happy until he pisses you off. And that he did. I am still fuming. I can’t fucking stand him. I try not to sit next to him on the train for this reason but there wasn’t another seat to be had.

Despite being mad, I am also feeling wicked sad. I keep thinking about Hyde and how sad he is, which makes me feel sad as well. I am the host. I feel what my parts feel. I just don’t know what to do. I do plan on doing something soon. I thought that would make him happy but it’s not. I think he is sad because he hasn’t been able to write dire things lately. I haven’t been able to let him “out” so to speak. I just haven’t been feeling that level of depression since I upped the trileptal or at least starting taking the full dose of it. I had to take it because I kept becoming hypomanic and the crashes were terrible. I could lower the dose again. Only problem is that I really don’t want the psychache to return.

I can’t live with both physical pain and psychological pain. Having both just makes me suicidal. I think that is what Hyde wants. He feeds off it. It is what fuels his writing. Sadly, it also fuels mine as well. Since being on the “right” dose of trileptal, I haven’t been able to write painful stuff. Actually, I haven’t been able to write anything for my book. I just don’t feel it. Writers have said that if you wait to feel it, you will never write. Well, that is my muse. High emotional stuff gives me things worth writing about.

I seem to write good blogs. My readership has gone up the last few weeks. I even have a consistent reader from Guam that is reading (hi!). I should feel proud of myself for be successful but I don’t feel anything. I feel like I should write more but sometimes I feel what I am writing is boring and mundane. My blog used to be about being suicidal. Now I don’t know what it’s about. My daily life and the struggle I have with chronic pain, either physical or psychological or both.

Speaking of chronic pain, last night Bill Maher made a comment that those that use opioids are “junkies” because of the stupid commercial they had during the Super Bowl about a medication for constipation. The asshole didn’t realized what the presence of the chronic pain community he pissed off, including myself. I didn’t participate in the hashing but I did call him a dick. That was all I could think of to say.

I just get frustrated every day because I feel like I write the same things only it’s a different day. I write because it makes me feel better. It’s like an itch that I have to scratch. If I don’t write everyday, I feel like I am missing something. There are some days when it’s hard to write more than 300 words and then there are days like today where I can write 600 or more. I keep track of my word counts because I am a number nerd, just like I keep track of my blog stats. It gives me something to focus on during the day.

Getting back to Hyde, I just don’t know what to do about him. I guess I should just try and let him out more if I am able. It’s just that there has to be circumstances to let him out and I am not always under those circumstances. He is a difficult part. And it hurts me knowing he is too.

Difficult therapy session

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

Difficult therapy session

I had sent my therapist the “Hyde here” blog that I wrote the other night. We ended up talking a lot about my “parts”, mainly Jack and Hyde. She wanted to know more about what brought Hyde out and I told her I was exhausted but felt the need to write. Hyde always comes out when I am in that state. Jack has been elusive. He only seems to come out if I am angry at my therapist or something she says triggers him. I don’t know too much about him but I think today I figured out that he has been a part of me longer than I thought. I think he has been a part of me since my teen years when I was cutting. There was a dissociative episode I had when I was 17. I had started cutting and spaced out. As I was telling her this, I could feel Jack saying it was him. It is possible. A lot of anger and pain was expressed in all the cuts I was doing over the years.

She was trying to engage the parts but I can’t call them up on command. She said that it was important to talk about this. I had texted her before our session I didn’t want to talk about my father at all. I felt like we had spent enough time talking about him on Tuesday. But she brought him up anyways. I was vulnerable and something triggered me crying. So I spent the last few minutes of session crying because I couldn’t stop. I had gotten angry at one point and that almost always leads to a crying spell. But I was crying tears of sadness because I know my father isn’t going to be around much longer, if things progress the way they do. I never had a good relationship with him because he is a liar and an abusive one at that.

We also talked about my suicidality a little bit. Hyde is tied to my suicidality. He wants to die and so do I. But I have been failing at it because of my therapist. She wanted to know when he was formed and I have no idea. He is a part of me that comes out when I am extremely exhausted, usually doped up on meds, and am fighting sleep yet have the urge to write. I also feel slightly suicidal when he makes an appearance. He has been quiet a lot lately because I haven’t been so suicidal for whatever reason. The psychache has been relieved. I don’t feel as much psychological pain lately as I did in the past. I think it’s due to increasing my mood stabilizer. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel sad and depressed at times.

My therapist stirred a bunch of stuff up for me today. I found it very exhausting. I am glad I don’t have to talk to her till Tuesday. I was thinking about writing my recovery from self harm but I don’t think I will do that today. It’s just too triggering for me and I don’t want Jack to come out. My therapist called him like a bodyguard. Maybe he is. I don’t know. He is elusive and only came out at least twice since “finding” him. My therapist brought up the woman I can’t stand as she had told her that my “parts” need a voice or they will kill me. As whacky as this woman is, I think she might be right about this one. It makes sense. But I won’t tell my therapist that.

Hyde here

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

Hyde here

I am feeling really suicidal. I am in pain and I just can’t take it anymore. I almost sat on my glasses and that set things off. Now Hyde is out and I can’t get him back in. He has been quiet for a long time but he wants to talk so I am going to let him. I am safe. This is just his words…

My heart is broken and I don’t know how to fix it. I have tried to with therapy and medication but it seems that no matter what I do, I can’t fix myself. So why can’t I just kill myself? I have no meaning here. I have no purpose. Sure I take care of my bastard father but he doesn’t care if I live or die. I don’t think many people will care if I die.

Tonight my feet were cold so I put on some thermal socks. They were on for a couple of hours and then my feet got really hot. I now have an indentation on my bad foot were the sock dug into me. My foot is still swollen from yesterday and it hurts really bad. I don’t know why I have to live like this. I thought I was a good person but I guess I am not.

I don’t want to be a writer like my psych team wants me to be. I can’t write for shit. Sure I can blog, but that isn’t the same as writing a book. I added owls to my story and it sucks. I don’t know what I was thinking. I am such a bad writer.

I am very tired of trying to stay alive. I should kill myself. It makes no sense to go on. My heart always hurts worse than my foot. Least my foot can get relief with medication. But nothing helps my heartache. I am trying to stay awake to write this. I haven’t been out in so long. I just want to die and push up daisies. Or not even that. Just spread my ashes behind the City Yards near the water. That is my favorite place in the world. I wish I could go there often but I don’t have a car anymore and it’s too far to walk. I didn’t want to live past 40 years. I had every intention to die but my stupid fucking loser of a therapist wanted me to live. She is such an idiot and Jack agrees with me. He hates her really bad. I don’t know why.

I got to go. Meds are knocking me out. Just know that I really want to kill the host and I hope I will succeed one day. Soon as I figure it out, I will do it.