midnight ponderings

Midnight ponderings

Tuesday night was very difficult for me. I was in a lot of pain and processing stuff that went on in my appointment with the urologist. I was feeling pretty depressed that self-cath is now present in my life and will continue to be for some time. Then I got into an argument with my family that night and my mood went from sour to suicidal quick. I planned on taking my life after I saw my therapist today. I brought the stuff with me as well as getting some stuff ready in case it didn’t work and I was put in the hospital. I packed a light bag and left for the bus stop.

I am not a morning person. I just remember traveling on the bus and then picking up my coffee with a little time to kill before I had to board the train to get to the therapist’s office. I was not all present while meeting with the therapist. I kept zoning out, partly because I was so suicidal. She asked me if I was going to act on it and I must have indicated that I was. Then she asked, twice, if I had ginger on me. Things at that point became fuzzy. I know I went into my bag to get the ginger to give it to her and then everything else was sort of a blur. She said that I would have to be evaluated and be inpatient. She had to call security to take me to the ED as she didn’t think she could trust me. We talked about baseball while we waited. I have no idea why I told her I was going to end my life and that I had the stuff with me to do it. I honestly am so fucking mad at myself for doing something so stupid.

The ED didn’t think I had enough intent to be inpatient so they offered partial hospital which I am supposed to start in six hours. Guess what, it isn’t going to happen. I would have to leave my hour in about four hours to get to where I needed to be. I honestly have no idea how to get there by T. I am just going to skip the appointment and hope that police don’t show up at my door. Therapist will be mad but I don’t care. I left the ED after five hours. I hope to god it is my last visit there this year. I hate the ED.

Soon after I left, my psych emailed me asking if I was ok. I thought that was odd. I answered it right away without thinking. I never got a response. I just sent her an email a couple of hours ago telling her I have another bladder infection and this time I am not taking the antibiotics. I am already feeling crappy physically. I know it is only going to get worse. My blood count is up from the last time I had my CBC drawn. It is only going to be a matter of time before the infection hits my blood stream. I am banking on this and it causes me to die.

The NP psychopharm I see foolishly put that I have borderline personality disorder as my “issue”. I don’t meet the criteria so I have no idea what she is basing this on. If she is basing it on past history, I still have no idea how that is relevant today! Just pisses me off because once those things are there, they cannot be removed. Just like the “female to male transgender person” “issue”. I don’t have an issue being FTM and I honestly still have no idea why the fuck the computer system would put that on. It just makes me so damn mad.

When I came home, my ankle exploded. It kind of went off a little bit while in the ED but soon as my foot was resting, it exploded and I have been in pain since. I have tried different meds and now it is just a waiting game as to when exhaustion will hit and I will collapse. I took the “substitute” anxiety pill so I will be knocked out the next few days, just on one fucking pill. I take this med sparingly because I don’t like it at all. I meant to tell her today about it but I forgot. The NP came by the ED to talk to me. She thinks I am seeing her next week but it is the week after. I can’t see her next week and I sure as hell am not seeing the therapist. I am mad as hell at her for wasting my time in the ED.

I need to shower sometime later today. I sweat so much yesterday it wasn’t funny. I was drenched. It was fairly warm and I was over dressed. My hair feels so yucky and the NP that told me I had a bladder infection wants me to take a shower after every bowel movement. In a perfect world, that might be doable but for someone with chronic pain, it is very exhausting. I haven’t showered since the weekend, so almost a week now. I just can’t motivate myself enough to do it. The therapist changed my diagnosis to recurrent major depression with psychotic features. I was thinking it was treatment resistant depression. The psych NP has persistent depressive disorder, which I didn’t even know existed. Either case, I am depressed. I am not bipolar anymore or maybe I never was.

Over the weekend, I sent my psych a pic of me smirking because I felt “devilish”. I told her I had met my aunt and said how she was doing as she is not going to be around much longer. She stopped eating two weeks ago so her time here is coming to an end. I am sad about this. I also gave a description about how my care has been going in her (my psych’s) absence. My psych responded that I wrote elegant and eloquent. And this is why I miss her so much. She values my writing where the other two women in my team do not. They don’t even see my writing as a tool to help me get better. And you know why they don’t know of this? Because they don’t ask! Maybe I did tell them I am a blogger but they don’t want me to do solitary things. Writing is solitary; you can’t get it done otherwise. But it is meant to be shared. And that is what brings me joy, or used to anyways. I am fighting the urge not to write as I am typing this because I think my words have no meaning anymore. A few of my readers have “fact checked” that for me and it is false. I have to try and keep this voice going as much as it is paining me right now because if I don’t, I fear I will lose myself in a way that I am not sure I can ever come back from. I have comeback from so many things. I am not sure I can come back if I get away from my writing. It is so very important to me even if I story tell about my day and how it went down. I think it is boring but maybe someone else finds it interesting. I don’t know. I want to thank YOU my readers for not allowing me to stop my writing. I now right now it is infrequent but I am working on changing that Because of YOU. You mean a lot to me because without you, there would be no blog. So thank you. I hope you are sleeping as it is almost 0300 EST. Take care until we meet again.

frustrated on so many levels

Frustrated on so many levels

I saw the therapist today. I was really nervous about it because I didn’t have a voice. First part was of her reading all that transpired since I last saw her, which was last Monday. In there, I had mentioned I was suicidal and she asked if I was safe. I hate that fucking word when it comes with being suicidal. I never know if I am truly safe. If it was put in the how likely am I going to act or something, the answer might be a little different. Each time I get the urges, the situation is different so I have different levels of coping with it. It might be some grounding, music, distraction, going through social media and getting support there, or just maybe sitting with whatever I am feeling to get through the moment. I have recently just stared at a wall while letting the feelings hit me, one after the other and I try not to think in those moments, which is hard to do. Some times I can write but lately I seemed to have lost my words (mostly due to being reported on my feelings) that I cannot express myself, not even in my journal. The words are there, I just can’t seem to put them in cohesive sentences. This is the MOST frustrating thing because writing used to be my escape and because of vigilantes, my escape has been hindered.

I left aggravated and angry. I was looking for her to offer something to appease the suicidologist in me but nothing was forthcoming. I don’t know if she was looking for me to have some sort of plan (I have many, some good and some not so good) or what. Her biggest thing was for me to be “safe” whatever that meant. While I was home reflecting on this, I basically realized I have four choices: 1) go to ED of some sort; 2) call my psych, no matter what hour as I most likely will be in real danger at this point; 3) stew with the feelings as mentioned above; 4) act on my feelings/thoughts/urges. I have a straight forward plan so as long as I can walk (presuming physical pain isn’t the driver of the suicidal escape), the plan can be executed with no one much the wiser.

The ONE thing no one understands about suicidality is the need to escape from the pain (physical and mental or either/or in my case). It is also true that if I have an angry row with a family member that has me feeling unworthy, useless, lazy, etc., my thoughts of escape increase because I feelings of being trapped are heighted and I will think of suicide as my only choice in the matter. I honestly have no way of conveying this and having a “treatment” for it. Yes, I can bring up CAMS (my preferred way of dealing with my suicidal feelings) but my therapist doesn’t even know what the fuck it is, and from the sound of it, is not up to the latest suicide prevention stuff. Honestly, I don’t know who is as there is a LOT of information out there.

The therapist also wondering if being that the institution I was at was good for me as I have so much anger at it right now as it got rid of my psych. I think part of this is mostly likely the grief of her not being there and right now I am in the anger stage of that grief. The frustrating fucking thing right now is that because of my voice being fucked up, crying hurts so I am unable to process it with a good cry. Even as I am typing this and letting some tears out my throat is starting to hurt in a big way. I think once I have this cry, I can possibly moved on. My psych is still there for me; she hasn’t left. I just haven’t been able to see her as she doesn’t have a new home yet. I am still her patient because she has said so and I believe her. If anything, I think she fears me leaving her more than I fear her leaving me. If that makes sense.

I am utterly exhausted right now, mentally and physically. My throat is fatigues and hurts from the twenty minutes or so that I spent talking to the therapist. I honestly don’t want to talk to anyone, unless it is in written form, for the rest of the day. The only thing I have eaten today is a donut and a coffee cake. That seems to be the only thing I want today. I may have the last breakfast burrito (if there is one) that is in the freezer later but chances of that happening are low. I might have to make some more tomorrow after my groceries are delivered. It is nice to have some pre-made food that I like that I can zap in the microwave for a few minutes and have a meal.

I don’t have any plans for tonight. I might read Harry Potter or just be on social media. I would like a nap but that has yet to happen. I just seem to lay down and my pain decides to act up. My foot is already acting up with the ceiling fan going. Airwaves are annoying it. I really shouldn’t have listened to the meditation thing the therapist had me listen to. It started off by thinking of the feet and how they feel and such. Both feet were killing me so it was hard to “let go” of the feelings and shit. Then that was the only thing I could focus on. When they moved up to the abdomen I started feeling hypervigilant of someone barging through the door and had to stop it. At least we tried it. I knew it wasn’t going to work as I have done similar shit while inpatient and it is always a trigger for me.

I had written in the notes I wrote for the therapist to update her that I was thinking of getting ginger gummies and just sitting somewhere to eat them. By the time I came home, the plan was set. I figured out the location and all the how, what, when, where, and why. I have the four choices listed above on which one to choose when those urges arise. I will be left to my own devices and the choice really is mine to make. No one can stop me, no one needs to know, and no one will be there when the decision will be made. I am on a precipice. Question is, do I have a hand (figuratively) to hold me back…

I’ve decided that I won’t tell anyone about my suicidal thoughts. Might mention them here but just the thoughts. No one seems to want to hear them anyway.

Writing difficulties and dealing with shit

Writing difficulties and dealing with shit

***warning long read***

I have been having trouble writing my blogs. I have been going through some turmoil about my psych leaving. I have been in contact her with email but it isn’t the same. I feel like I lost a parent. Because of this, I have lost my words. Past few days, I have not been able to write because even though there is stuff to write about, I just can’t get it. It is really difficult. Before I left seeing my psych we talked about my writing and writing in general. I half want to send her a message telling her I have been having difficulty writing since she left but not sure that is appropriate as I don’t want to make it seem like her leaving is the reason I cannot write. I am so mad at the place she and I worked at because they forced out for obviously different reasons. I think this anger is what is getting in the way of my writing. She wants me to continue my care there. And frankly, I really don’t want to leave as I finally found a doctor that can work with me and has a good team that cares. That is rare to find these days.

Day before yesterday (the 2nd), I had my appointment with my TG doc (transgender). We discussed how things were going and I am pleased with the results. I sort of have a hair explosion which I knew was going to happen but damn, my legs are really hairy now. She told me that T can cause increase in sweating and OMG that hit me like a ton of bricks. I sweat really bad anyway because of my nerve injury and now it is worse. The weather has been really muggy and hot and because of the sweating, I had to go through like 3 shirts in one day over a couple of days. I couldn’t understand why I was so damn hot and now I realize it is because of hormones adding to my already messed up temperature settings. I asked her if she was going to increase the T dose and she said no because my testosterone blood level is in the “male” range. I had my blood drawn yesterday and I guess I made the cut off for running hormones as my T result came back. It was nearly double what it was in Jan. Holy crap. I looked up the normal range for males and I am close to being in the middle of it. So I will stay on the dose. My hematocrit has increased though my energy levels haven’t. Hematocrit levels shows if you are anemic or not. I was always in the 30s range. Now I am in the 40s. Thing is my numbers have steadily increased and she told me that she doesn’t want my blood to become viscous due to increase in blood production in the bone marrow. I am fine with the dose as it is. She also said that it is a time process so the longer I am taking the T, the more it will build up in my system. I felt good about that but also am a little impatient!

Before I started my blog, I had a chat with my nephew. I am so glad I can talk to him about men stuff. I had asked him about the facial hair and he said that shaving it will make it grow faster. I had wanted to hold off shaving the rest of the month to see what will grow as the fuzz around my face is becoming more noticeable but is not really dark enough yet. It is there but kind of faded. So when I take a shower today, I will shave. I might trim my sideburns a little bit. They are now past my earlobes so it will be only a matter of time before the rest fills in. One day I really want to go downstairs with facial hair just to freak my mother out. She has not been accepting of transgendered people. My brother in law’s nephew is trans and there was a period of time where we didn’t see him. When we did, he had almost a full beard and my mother exclaimed, “what the hell is on your face?!” I nearly died from embarrassment and also felt the sting of it because I knew then she would not accept me when I did grow a beard or when I came out to her. I was right about it and it still hurts. I have tried talking to her about it but she is adamant that she is “accepting.” When I was in the hospital, I had asked her during my last weekend there when is she going to accept me. Her response was in a strained voice as she said “she has accepted since I was born.” The other stuff we talked about I knew was making it uncomfortable for her. I can pick up things, I always have as I have been empathic and sensitive. We haven’t talked about it since, though she is trying to use my pronouns and name more, unlike my sister that moved in. She has yet to call me a him/he and will call me my birthname. I am glad my youngest sister is more accepting but if she messes up, she will correct herself. I am not sure if my brother in law knows I am or not. I haven’t told him and I am not sure my sister (youngest) has either. The kids (nieces and nephew) have been more accepting and I think knew before I came out to them. It has been a process for everyone. My online friends have been the most accepting and supportive. They really like the transition photos as they can see the changes. I had recently done a ten week transition post and even then you can see a change. I really don’t like my day 1 pic anymore. But I think that has more to do with me hating myself and being uncomfortable with myself for basically two reasons: I am not congruent to what I am and that my father called me ugly and fat my whole life. I do think I am ugly and obviously I am fat. The TG had the “weight talk” with me. Even though I had lost 12 pounds since I last saw her and I told her it was because of me not eating, she still wants me to lose more. I have no idea why doctors feel they have to say the obvious. I cannot stand it because it makes me feel more ashamed of myself.

I had appointments all week. Today and the rest of the week I am not doing anything. My legs are so sore from everything. Monday when I went to PT things looked good. I have two sessions left and then I will “graduate.” I have been going for nearly six months trying to get my right (good) ankle/foot stronger. I don’t think I can get the calf to loosen. It has been the most aggravating part over the course of treatment. Every time I try to stretch, I hurt the next day in a big way. I pretty much have given up on it. I have also given up on trying to get my balance better only because I need to be standing and my CRPS foot/ankle doesn’t like it. It can trigger a flare. Tues after I saw my TG doc, I had a flare and for the first time, a few hours later, I dissociated. I felt like I didn’t have a foot/ankle anymore and the pain was not there. It was very fucking weird. This lasted until this morning when I woke up at 2 am because of back and hip pain. I have gotten into this habit while sleeping to twist my upper body is one way and my pelvis/hip is the opposite. I had some pain that was about an 8 so I took my breakthrough meds and some Neurontin. When I was having difficulty going back to sleep, I took some melatonin. I now have a hangover from it but that is what coffee is for. I still don’t have mega pain and this worries me. I had emailed my psych about this but never got a response about it.

Yesterday I saw my eye doctor, which I am not going back to again. She didn’t really help me and I feel like she didn’t get what I was telling her as I really couldn’t see the letters out of my right eye clearly. No matter how I told her that, she just kept adjusting the lenses on the thing and nothing worked. Then she went to the other eye. After that she just said my prescription changed a little. I was like WTF. How the hell could it have changed a little when I cannot see out of my right eye from far away??? I had gone to see her not only for a regular eye exam but also due to my having double vision. I had told my psych as I thought it might be the Lamictal and she said it is. I needed to be under supervision to taper down the dose so she is trying to speed up seeing another psychiatrist. But after the exam, it turns out that my right eye is “lazy” meaning the muscles are weak and get worse when I am tired, hence the double vision. The problem is not problematic enough for me to have a prism in my eyeglasses, but if it gets worse, I will need it. I feel like I might need it now as I could not see just one frame the whole time she was trying to get me to see one. I kept on seeing two or the corner or half of the other frame. Again, she did not listen to me and just went on with her business. I will be seeing my mother’s eye doctor. He is an ophthalmologist which is what I sort of need. My mother confused me because she said a “nurse” did the eye exam and then he went over what they did to okay it. I tried to get more information out of her but she doesn’t know who the person is that is testing her vision. She never asks the questions just goes along with it. I am sure if the doctor said that if she jumped off a bridge would help her, she would. So now I got to get another eye exam, which needs to be on Medicare, not my eye insurance. I am not sure Medicare covers eye exams. I know the insurance that I have does but they will not cover it because I have Medicare. I am so annoyed at this. I won’t be getting new glasses until I get another eye exam. I want to make sure the prescription is right and won’t cause my eyes to strain or get tired while reading on my phone or while I am on the computer or even looking at something far away like a street sign or something. I have always known my right eye has been weak but hell, least listen to me when I say I cannot see the letters!

After the appointment, I sent an email to my psych telling her the double vision was likely not due to the Lamictal but having the lazy eye problem. I never got a response back. I then emailed her about still being in a dissociated state. I wish she would have responded but she didn’t. I miss her and it has only been a week since I last saw her.

I guess that is all. I might do a weekly blog if I don’t write every day or every other day, like I am doing now. I know it is long and I apologize. I just wanted to write how things are going for me. It has been a real struggle and my pain has not helped my suicidality. I still have my plan and I know one day I will go through with it. Just not now.

We don’t have to talk, I just want to hear your voice

We don’t have to talk, I just want to hear your voice

So I am going to try and crank this out as the Sox are playing and Luke Combs, Lady A, and Matt Snell continue to break my heart. This maybe long as there is a lot of stuff to talk about since I haven’t written in a week. So grab some coffee or something.

I’ve been battling a UTI (urinary tract infection) for the past week and a half. My pcp did not consult with me on antibiotics so the first course of treatment did not work. I finished on Sunday and Monday I had the foul smelly, cloudy urine again. I had called the pcp office but it was late in the day and no one got back to me. Tuesday I was able to get a hold of the idiot RN and told him my symptoms. I had an appointment with the new therapist and hoped he would get back to me as I was passing blood at this point. My results came back early afternoon but I got no call from my pcp or provider letter. So Wed I am hurting really bad. I am passing blood clots, blood, and mucus and it was extremely painful doing so. Bladder pain was terrible and I kept losing control of my urine as the urges to go were not to be messed with. At one point I waited a bit too long and thankfully had a diaper on because otherwise I would have had a puddle on my rug as I couldn’t even open the door before losing it. I was getting pissed (no pun intended). I called the office and the RN said that I did have infection (ya think) and my doc called in a prescription. Again my doc DID NOT CALL ME! I asked which one and I said I have no effect with that one I need to be on this one. Wed all I had to eat was some Ramen noodles. I didn’t want to eat or drink anything. Thursday I slept all day. I only ate when my protein bars came in. I had wanted to be up before my night meds but I wasn’t so the med alarm woke me from sleep. My mother too had called which annoyed me more than the phone alarm. I had flank pain but it was minor. I had 2 doses of antibiotics. I emailed my psych to ask her if I should go to the ER as I thought I was dehydrated. We fiddled with how much I was to drink but in the end my stomach only took 3 oz (90 mL). I then felt nauseous and I went to bed. My psych wanted me to get in touch with her today. I said ok.

5 am this morning, I woke up with worse flank pain and felt really lousy. It still hurt to pee but I wasn’t passing clots or mucus. I emailed my psych about this and went back to sleep after taking some Tylenol. I just figured it was nothing but maybe soreness from not eating and drinking anything. When I woke up to my morning meds, my psych had emailed back that I should contact my pcp as flank pain is not something you get with a UTI. Shit. I knew it wasn’t but I really didn’t want to go to the ER. I wanted to bake cookies. So I emailed her I would go to the ER as I wasn’t contacting my PCP again to talk with his idiot RN. I have no idea why good doctors have idiot staff. When I got to the hospital, I called his office just to let him know I was in the ED. Within fifteen minutes my PCP calls me and I tell him what was going on. He said that was the right thing and sent me on my way. ED ran tests but in the end it was to drink more (I laughed at this) and keep the course of antibiotics. OK. On the way home, I sent a message to PCP asking him to do some more urine tests to make sure the damn infection I have is fucking gone. I then sent one to my psych. She responded by asking what did they say. I told her and then asked if she wanted me to call her over the weekend. Our last weekend. I haven’t heard back, yet.

On Monday 17 June, I met with my psych. She told me some very bad, horrible news that has left me feeling numb but really angry at the institution we worked at. Her department wanted her to step down from whatever position and she said no. So they terminated her, June 30th is her last day. My last appointment with her is June 24, this coming Monday. I still have not processed it but I tried on Wed to write something. I knew it had been more than a few days since writing a blog. For the first time in almost 7 years, I lost my words. I couldn’t even begin to write about this and still am tearing up about it. I have been thinking about her and all we have went through. Wed night I wrote her something then couldn’t sleep. I didn’t go to bed till I don’t even remember the hour. Must have been late/early as I slept almost all of yesterday. There is no way in hell I could write what the last 26 years have been like in a paragraph or even in one long blog. I wrote two pages until my brain and emotions were fried. Then I kept fine tuning it. Adding stuff, fixing, punctuating, grammar, you name it. After the third go round I said fuck it and sent it to her with a PS saying that this might not be grammatically correct or something to that effect. In the email, I told her to open it at her leisure, maybe with a few tissues and I would bring a box on Monday.

She said I would be assigned another psychiatrist in the adult department, which so far I haven’t. She wants to have a Lamictal level drawn the next time I see my PCP so if he responds to the urine tests, I will ask him then. I have been preoccupied with her leaving and the UTI that I forgot. I tried not to break down though I did shed some tears. She asked if I could come in next week and I didn’t know what to say. She just shook her head yes and I said ok. The end of June is coming and it would be our last time together for a while. She said she is trying to find some other academic home and then when she gets sets up she plans on calling me. She said her email and phone number wouldn’t change (I am not 100% that is true. I know with me, I was cut off the day they let me go. They might have different stuff for MDs.) I thought of making her my marinara sauce, which I am still planning on doing on Sunday. I wanted to back cookies for her. I am hoping to do so tomorrow if I don’t have an all nightery with pain or emotions. Last night, I realized not only did I not have a copy of my second book on ANY of the 8 thumb drives I had, I also no longer have roots holding my tree up. It was a story I wrote that I don’t think I ever published on my blog. It was about my therapist and psychiatrist keeping me here. One of the roots said goodbye for reasons I still don’t know what they were. Now the other root is leaving me and I have nothing holding me up.

Tuesday was a bigger nightmare as I was supposed to meet with a new therapist. I was so fucking nervous because I knew if she didn’t want to take me on or I didn’t like her off the bat, I would have NO mental health services at all, none! So I went to the appointment and she asked me a shit ton of questions. I carefully worded and didn’t elaborate on anything that would lead to my suicidality. Least not until she said I was discharged from the psych unit and I immediately wanted to die. She asked if I was suicidal. I said no and then asked what would I end it when I leave here. I said no. Throughout, she kept on saying my psychiatrist terminated me and I must feel abandoned. When I asked where do we go from here, she asked what did I want to do, like she had no interest in seeing me ever again. That felt so welcoming. Mind you, when she went into the waiting room she called for someone with my birthname. So we didn’t exactly start off the right foot. I told her I had a three session rule and then I would decide if I would stay on or not. Though, if at three sessions I didn’t, there was no where else for me to go. She asked who I would call should I get suicidal and I said my psych and then it dawned on me, she wasn’t going to be there anymore and fuck, I damn near lost it.

I wrote to my psych and said the therapist said I feel abandoned and I said I didn’t. My psych responded saying I may feel that way. I wrote back I would if this was good bye and it is more of a see you later, or is it? She never responded back. Later that day, Luke Combs came out with the song, Even though I am leaving, and I just about lost it. It was perfect to all the stuff I feel about my psych. This cannot be goodbye.

If I don’t write next week, please know it is most likely due to emotional overload and cannot find the words to the hurt or whatever I feel. I see the therapist Thursday.