spoon shortage

Spoon shortage

Earlier this week, my mother asked me where our big spoons were. I said I didn’t know, maybe the dishwasher ate them. She wasn’t amused.

It got me thinking about how much I need spoons lately. Just for me to shower and go to the store took more spoons than I realized. Spoons, for those that don’t know or are new to my blog, is a metaphor for energy based on a blog I read years ago. I have posted it here so you can try and understand what I am talking about.

I am in a lot of pain right now. I think I am done for the day and that is too bad because I wanted to see my Australian friend today. He said we would meet up sometime in the afternoon but I still haven’t heard from him. Maybe he is out of spoons, too. He was in a car accident the other day and has whiplash. He was hurting pretty good. Whiplash sucks. I experienced it once and never want to again. Tonight is also my nephew’s birthday party. I don’t know if I will be making an appearance or not. Depends if I can get this pain that I am feeling under control or not.

It sucks being in chronic pain. I haven’t had a break all week. Today was going to be a rest day but I had to shower and then go to the pharmacy to pick up my prescription. I also wanted chocolate. So after my shower, I got dressed and went to the pharmacy. I also did some shopping as my mother wanted pudding. My protein bars were on sale so I grabbed some of those as well. I got home and my mother flipped out on the “junk” I bought. I didn’t say anything to her. I swear sometimes she thinks I uses HER money to buy MY stuff. I don’t. If I want to use my money to buy “junk”, then so be it. Least I didn’t order food like I wanted to. I have been craving Pad Thai but I am doing good and not buying it. I still have to go to the meat market and get my burgers. I also need to learn how to cut up an avocado so I can have it on my burger. I love avocados.

I was feeling some more of the self hate again today. I saw a shadow of me and one of things on my chest and I got really sad. I so want to be flat chested. It’s very distressing to me and I can’t talk to anyone about it. I don’t think I can even talk to my therapist about it because then she wants to “fix” the problem and have me see the people at the gay clinic. I just can’t be bothered with it. I just rather die than deal with it. Even if I could grow facial hair, I still will have breasts. And I doubt testosterone fixes that. It’s really hard for me to talk about. It’s just another thing about self-image that I cannot tolerate. My therapist says I don’t see myself, that the image is not what it is. She is right. I don’t see myself as a man and never will as long as things are the way they are. She just doesn’t get how much it hurts me to the point of wanting to take my life. And if I ever have the opportunity to take it, you know that damn well I will take it.

blog views and self hate

Blog views

Today I hit 25,000 views on this blog and I want to thank all that read it. Without your readership, it would not be successful as it is.

Last night, I was in a lot of pain. I couldn’t go down the stairs and I wanted a burger so I literally bumshuffled down the stairs to get to my delivery. It was a long wait and just as I was going to call, they called me and said my burger took a “field” trip. I don’t want to know what that means but the guy said he would make a fresh one and it would be on him. It was so good. I need to learn how to peel an avocado. I love them and especially like them in my burger.

I had a crappy sleep. I woke up at 0430 in pain. And it took almost three hours to go back to sleep. I slept for a few hours and then I had to get up. I had to run some errands before my father’s doctor appointment. I finally faxed my forbearance for my student loan so they can stop hounding me. Apparently being on disability is not a “hardship”. UGH. I just am glad they will leave me alone now, least for the next few months.

I really felt suicidal today for the first time in months. I am having severe body image issues. I keep bumping into things with the honkers on my chest and I hate the gap between my little stubble on my face. I really want to get it even so that there is no gap but no matter how much I shave in between, there is no hair growth. I hate it. I just want to be ten feet under. I haven’t thought of a plan to kill myself. I just want to die. No one understands and it hurts so bad to be in the body I am not in. I think if I were male, things would have been different. But no, I am transgender so my life has to be harder. I hate my life. I hate ME, period. I hate living life the way that I am because it is not me and if I am ME no one will accept it. No one will love me, not like many people love me now but still. I have no worth, no purpose. I hate the things on my chest. I wish I could cut them off for good. But I can’t afford it. If I had any brains I would save up for the operation but that is hard to do with disability. Plus, I am not sure I can find a good surgeon in the area that won’t leave me with an infection of some sort. Hospitals are breeding grounds for bugs these days. I am tired of fighting with my mind over this matter. It is time to put the matter to rest and the only way I know to do that is to plan my death. It is what I do best.

Self-Esteem Around Bodily Functions

I slept most of the day today. Which was kind of good as I no longer have the back pain I was experiencing. Today was the first time since Friday that I have no back pain. Maybe it was just a flare up with the temp and I am on the mend now. I am so relieved. But that still doesn’t explain the extra leak I had yesterday. I was hoping it was sweat but it didn’t smell like it. I hate when I pee my pants. But it’s a part of my life now. I really hate it but there is nothing I can do about it. I could wear diapers but that can be costly. I don’t leak that much, so I am grateful for that. But it still doesn’t help my self-esteem.

I had therapy today but I have no recollection of it. I really wasn’t paying attention to what she was saying. She was going off about how I should get one of my nieces or my nephew to help me move stuff so I can get my AC in my window. I had to call time out because I really had to go to the bathroom to do #2. She knows that when I have to go, I have to go. I felt really bad as we were in the middle of session but, I couldn’t hold it in anymore and I didn’t want to crap myself. I apologized and she said it was okay but I still felt bad. I really felt horrible at having to put a pause to our conversation, even if it was crappy, just so I can relieve my bowels. I mean, I felt better physically wise, with the relief, but I felt terrible psychological wise. And I don’t know why that is. When you have to go, you have to go. But with me it’s a little different. Most people can hold their bowels. I don’t know how because it has been so long for me. I just know that if I didn’t stop our conversation when I did, there would have been an accident in my bedroom floor. And I think that would have made me feel worse than stopping our conversation.

While I was doing my business, she read one of the blogs I sent her. I told her it was how I felt. If I were to die tomorrow, I would be happy. Weird that the last dream I had, had to do with being suicidal. I was getting my pills to do me in and for some reason they wouldn’t fill it and it made me panicky. I was like oh shit. It was a really strange dream because in it, I was hospitalized for being suicidal! I guess being in the hospital has been on my brain a little more than it should be. I would like to be in, just to get a little routine going and someone to make sure I take my meds at the right time and stuff. But it also means suicide is on my mind a little more than I thought it would be. Funny how your dreams always tell you how things are when you are not thinking of it.

My pain is still there in my ankle. That is one pain that never goes away. Even while I was going through back pain, I still had my ankle pain. I told my therapist today that I am tired of being in pain all the time. I don’t think that went through her head. I don’t think she is getting me. And that is pissing me off. I just feel like I am crying wolf again. I say that I am suicidal, and everyone hears me. Then when I am really suicidal and in pain, no one hears me. It’s like they get so used to me telling them I am suicidal they don’t want to hear it anymore. It’s like “okay, you are suicidal”, just like when I say “I am depressed”. I am not expecting people to jump. I just wish they would listen to me a little more is all.

It’s after 0230. I woke up several hours ago and can’t go back to sleep. I just took my meds and my pain pills so hopefully, I will fall back to sleep soon.

I really feel down. And I don’t know what to do about it. Therapy isn’t helping. Meds aren’t helping. Why should I go on? There is no purpose in my life. I thought my book would be a good seller and I would be able to live off it a little bit better than I am now, but that was not the case. I still have not sold one book in the month of June. And all I keep thinking about is the taxes that I owe. I still have not received my payment from Kindle. I am hoping that will be sometime this month.

I guess my aunt that desperately wanted to talk to me, doesn’t. I have messaged her a few times and gotten no response. I know she is on Facebook. Just pisses me off. She has my number so why doesn’t she call me if it was that important? Just the way my family is. Hurry up and wait. One of my other aunts thinks that I am going to write a book about her family. She is nuts if she thinks I am going to work with her. Oh and the other big thing is that she doesn’t expect any money, just a little. PPPFFFTTTT. Not going to happen. There is too much one sided thinking with her and the truth will not come out about how the family really is. She will write it like we are all good citizens and such when really they are nothing but greedy assholes. I can go into more detail but I won’t as I don’t know who reads my blog. But that is the gist of it. And I refuse to contribute to the lies.

I think the “high” or upbeat feeling that I was feeling with the Cymbalta is coming to an end. I am starting to feel really down. But the good news is that I am not seeing my therapist today. My first Tuesday off from her. I wish we could meet in the evenings where I am a little bit more coherent but whatever. It sucks meeting in the morning. My thoughts are really together sometimes and I don’t remember half of what we talk about. Sometimes I am in good space and I remember, but most times I don’t. Therapy is so hard.

I need to buy tank tops for the summer. I only have two kinds and though I am fond of one, I can’t go outside with the other. My fricken boobs hang out too much. So I just wear them around the house. If I do have to go out, I will wear a t-shirt. I don’t have a sports bra. I haven’t worn a bra in years. I don’t even know my size anymore. And it doesn’t matter because I won’t buy them. I just don’t care to.

a writing ramble

A fellow blogger wrote a blog today about “why write depression every day”. It got me thinking about why I blog every day. Most of my post have to do with depression or pain or some combo of the two. It’s very rare that I don’t write about my feelings of the day, unless I am on a specific topic.

I write every day because it makes me feel better. Blogging is the one tool that I use to express myself. Sometimes it is received favorably, other times, not so much. But I don’t care that much for the likes or comments anymore. I just write anyway. It takes me out of the dark hole that I am in and brings me closer to the light. Writing has helped me deal with the darkness more than therapy has in the last ten years. I like that I can write and express what I feel, no matter how dark, and I find that I am not the only one. Others have feelings like I do about being depressed and suicidal.

Last night, I was talking with some people on the SPSM chat on twitter. It was very interesting. I would love to have Jobes on twitter but I don’t think he will ever be for it. The talk was how to get more therapists in to social media. And that is a tough thing to do. Hell, I have a therapist that is against email so how am I going to get her to twitter? Probably not. There was no specific topic about suicide just about how to spread social media out to mental health professionals. It was an interesting discussion.

The one topic that I am hoping to get around to one of these days, is transgender and suicide. I think it is a hot topic that needs to be addressed by professionals and is just getting ignored. All my therapy always focused on my abuse history but if they saw me, they would have known that I am gay and that I was hurting because of it. Asking questions, in the right way, to a transgender person can be life saving. I wish someone had asked me rather than me coming to the realization 30 years later. I could have had treatment a lot sooner and I could have been happier. Now I am stuck in a body I hate and that I still want to kill. It just isn’t right. Even though my psychiatrist has known me since I was 17, she still thinks of me as a “her”. I almost died when she called me a “girl” at our last appointment. I don’t know if she is baiting me to correct her or she just is ignorant. I have been thinking of writing her an email about it but I don’t think that will solve the problem. I think I am always going to be a “female” in her eyes.