Tag: grief

Post 1765

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

Post 1765

I only got a few hours of sleep last night. PTSD symptoms were set off around 2300 and didn’t end till around 0230 when I finally fell asleep. I woke up just a couple of hours later and have been up since. I tried to get back to sleep and would have if my damn phone didn’t go off on me. I had successive text messages and they drove me from sleep. One of the psychologists I am friends with was replying to my blog via Twitter so I was getting his tweets. It was constructive and he gave me a name of someone at BWH. I will look him up and see what he can do for me. My friend didn’t say that he was a doc or a surgeon as he didn’t give me his credentials. But I trust my friend.

I was going to catch the 0950 bus but I was too lazy to get out of bed. I wanted some writing time at Starbucks but was denied, least at the one at the Square. I went to South station and tried to find a spot for my therapy session. Soon as I found a place outside, it started to drizzle. I knew there was a Starbucks across the street so I went there and found a quiet corner. I did some writing while waiting for time to pass. My therapist called at the appointed time and we began talking about guess who? I told her I had PTSD symptoms last night brought on inadvertently by just deleting my father’s contact information from my speed dial. I didn’t delete him from my phone, just the speed dial. It triggered memories to come flooding back, something I wasn’t expecting. I wrote a short blog about it on Tumblr and sent it to her. I am still paranoid my sisters are reading my blog so I am careful on what I post now.

We talked about the symptoms and how triggered I was. I told her I tried distraction and other forms of grounding but I might as well have been blowing bubbles in the air for all the good it did me. I was tempted to call my psychiatrist but it was after 0100 and I was not really in the mood to talk. I had been anxious all evening because my meds got messed up due to the computer system and I didn’t want to bring it up or make her think I was calling that late just to see if she called the pharmacy. I wouldn’t do that. I just needed reassurance I wasn’t going out of my tree. The memories were so real and so was the guilt that I felt. Maybe if I stayed with my father a little more after I gave him his medication he would have died with someone in the room. I know my sister said that he wanted it that way, for us to be eating and for him to die at peace in his bed, which he did. There was no struggle. He just let go. And I just am kicking myself because I didn’t see it coming. Yes, I knew he was going to die that day. And I am grateful it didn’t take all night for him to die. But I just feel like there should have been more for me to do for him and I can’t figure out for the life of me what that was or what it should be.

If my therapist and I talked about anything else, I don’t really remember it. I told her the fiasco with the computer system and how my psych has to now call the damn pharmacy because it’s a stupid piece of shit. She did everything right (as far as I know). The shit computer just didn’t accept the changes she made. What a retarded system. Now I know why she is so aggravated with it.

I think we briefly talked about seeing a grief counselor but I really don’t want to be double talking. I don’t want to talk about grief with my therapist and the counselor at the same time because then I am just wasting my breath twice. I still haven’t called the counselor. I think I might email her. I am good with that. But I think I can handle things with my therapist. I don’t want to be in a sticky situation with the counselor because I feel suicidal at times or because I have PTSD.

This afternoon, I went south of Boston to visit friends and to see my friend’s daughter in a concert. The noise was unreal from the kids, not from the concert. The concert was pretty good for a bunch of 6th graders. They weren’t as off key as I thought they would be, though they killed one of my favorite songs that the Money Pit plays. I forget the name of the concerto but the kids butchered it. I am going to have to find that piece of music or see Money Pit again to hear it played correctly. I love Money Pit. It always makes me laugh even though I’ve seen it a million times and know it word for word. I did have a good time even though I wasn’t feeling good. I kept thinking about my father. I guess I was feeling guilty about having fun while I am still supposed to be in “mourning”.

Tomorrow marks one month that my father has passed. I have groceries coming in the morning that should make me tired enough to go back to sleep. I set my alarm clock for 0645 as the delivery is between 0730 and 0930. I hope they come around first thing. I then have therapy, again. After that it’s burger time!

Dream

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

Dream

I had the weirdest of all dreams last night. I was dreaming I was in a hotel room with my sister and I was going to check out. I made sure I had all my personal belongings before the maid came in to clean the room and went to the check out counter. Instead of using a credit card, I used a comp card of some sort. The clerk took it and off I went to the Station as my friend and I were going to the south of Boston to meet up with my friend. As we were waiting for the train to come in, we were approached by people we didn’t know and were weird. Not that unusual in Boston, but still, it was creepy.

The time for our train had come and gone and it still wasn’t in the station. I began to panic and my friend was becoming anxious. We were on a tight schedule because we were to meet our friend and then go to a concert. A half hour had passed without any indication that the train was delayed or cancelled. It was nerve wracking to say the least. Just as the weird woman that kept talking to me pulled out a belt, I woke up. I have no idea the symbolism of the belt would mean. It reminded me of the belt that my father had used to hit us with.

The freaky thing is that tomorrow I will be going to the exact same Station waiting for the same number train at the same time in the dream. I think I am a little nervous about this trip only because last week the train broke down and caused severe delays on the line. It’s an old commuter rail train so they break down frequently. It is also weird that I saw the same friend in the dream by the station I use to go home. Talk about coincidences.

I hope my trip tomorrow goes well and I am not nervous about the train breaking down or having delays. It will suck to miss my friend’s daughter’s concert. I didn’t make it to the concert last week for her son. I really want to see them as I haven’t visited them since January. That seems like years ago now as that is when my depression got bad and then my father got his diagnosis that his cancer had returned. It was all downhill from there.

Four Weeks

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

Four Weeks

Today marks four weeks since the passing of my father. I have been tearful most of the day but have yet to cry. I saw my psychiatrist today and I said as long as you don’t jerk me, I shouldn’t cry. She agreed and said that wasn’t her job. I was thankful. I really didn’t want to cry because I am afraid once I start, I wouldn’t stop. I rather do it in the privacy of my room than public places. I have been trying to get used to the time I have on my hands now that he is gone. The worry is still there that he needs help with something or other, but I know it’s not really there. I don’t know if that makes sense or not. My schedule has suddenly been free of his doctor’s appointments, which I am glad because it took so much mental energy and physical to take him somewhere. Then of course, you had the wait and the longer you waited, the worse it was. Sometimes I wanted to take away his watch so he wouldn’t tell me the time, like I didn’t know it myself. Man, he drove me crazy.

It’s little things like that that I miss. For good or bad, he was still my father. I still remember the day he died like it was yesterday. The last image of him being alive is still with me because I stared at him for quite sometime before leaving the room. He died not too long after, maybe a half hour to forty-five minutes later. We’ll never really know the true time of death because although we were with him, we weren’t in the room when he took his last breath. The nurse that came an hour later listed the time of death as 1645 but I say it was an hour earlier. Course, I can’t pronounce people dead. But I did get to witness it. I hope I never do again.

My psych told me she is on vacation for a week but might not have access to email. If I needed someone, I am to page the covering doc. She is worried that the increase in sertraline is going to cause a hypomania episode. I doubt it will happen as it never has in the past when I was taking it. I still feel pretty low despite feeling okay at times. She asked how my sleep was and I told her I was getting 5-6 hours a night, which is my norm. She raised her eyebrows in concern. I told her I would be okay and will call if things escalated. I don’t think they will.

I got Pad Thai for lunch from my favorite restaurant. I haven’t had it in so long. It’s hard to get good Pad Thai outside of Boston. I live on the out skirts of Boston but it’s not that far away from me. I love the city with all my heart and soul more than the town that I live in. I hate the town I live in. It’s hard to get around because you need a damn bus to get you anywhere. And I can’t walk the mile to the station anymore. I wish I could but I would be paying for it and if I could, I wouldn’t be disabled anymore. I could go back to my job in the lab and deal with the fun of the labels being down every other day because of the new system. It sucks because although I saw my psych change the strength of the sertraline when she ordered my prescription, the system didn’t change it so I am still taking 4 fucking pills. She has to change it or send me another prescription for a higher quantity or I am going to be out of meds in less than a week. Fucking system sucks. Then she told me there was a front page article about it in the Globe. I am going to have to look it up and read it to see if it is positive or negative. I know it’s giving docs a hard time because it’s just so damn complicated. It really makes clinical work a bitch instead of making it easier. I have a feeling that is why my great PCP left the practice. It would mean more time on the damn computer than actual doctoring.

My psych wants me to send her my blogs. It’s been a while since I sent her one. Maybe if I write one later I will send it. It’s been a while since I wrote two blogs in a day. Maybe I will write up the story of my father’s last two hours. I might add to it if I write it out. I just don’t know if my movie will start being intrusive like it was a few weeks ago.

I think my psych now knows what I wish to be called. She thought it was Alex but it’s not because I changed it more than a year ago. I told her I would change it legally sometime this year because I really hate my birth name. I just need to get my birth certificate from the town I was born in as I have no clue where the one I had is. I told her how perplexing it was to be transgender at the hospital I was in. I had to play the “female” role for a while because I was in a double room. It was stupid. But that is because the hospital that admitted me doesn’t know I am transgender. My psych knows but that is the only clinician that does. My ex-PCP knew because I told him while I was in a hypomanic state during my last physical. I don’t know why it’s easier to come out during a hypomanic state than it is in a depressed state. I think it’s because you have a tighter grip of reality while depressed than when you are hypomanic. I got to get my haircut this week. Now that I finally figured out the way I like it cut, I think it will be styling.

Sunday Blog 12

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

I woke up later than my usual time, at 0700. I had to use the bathroom as I was dreaming about going pee. While I was up, I decided to have two Ensures. Bad idea. It made me sick. Luckily, I kept everything in my stomach and was able to get back to sleep. I just woke up a little while ago. I made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I put more jelly than peanut butter and I didn’t enjoy it as much.

I am listening to the ball game. I wanted to watch it but my mother is hogging the living room TV and I don’t like to watch it from the kitchen. I tend to get the munchies. This is the first time all season that I am listening to the radio. I wanted to see what the new guy sounds like. His name is Tim Neverett. The Sox are playing the Indians at Fenway.

My ankle is a little better today than it was yesterday. The temp is ten degrees cooler than yesterday. There is supposed to be rain over the next few days but so far it remains dry. I just hope it doesn’t rain Tuesday as I need to be out and about. I will be going south of Boston to meet up with some friends for a school concert and then dinner.

Tuesday needs to get here pretty quick. I am running up a grocery bill as I keep on adding stuff that I want. I was going to order ice cream but it’s not on sale and I am not spending $5 for a pint. I still am debating on getting chips. I think that is the only junk food I haven’t ordered.

I need to fill my pill box for the week. I hate doing it. But it’s better than being in the hospital because I have less pills in the box than what they were giving me. I think I counted at least 20 pills at night versus my home pills of 14. This is because nearly every drug had at least 2 pills to go with it. At home, I just take one pill, except for one of my blood pressure pills. I have to take 2 pills.

I have had the munchies since I woke up. Now I feel bloated. I mostly had fruit and vegetables so I don’t feel guilty about eating. I just had a lot in a short period and my stomach is not used to so much food at once.

I have been in a good mood today. It is strange because I also feel sad at the same time. Yesterday, I got a card from my father’s PCP’s office. The coag RN sent me her condolences of the loss of my father. I thought that was nice of her. I have been thinking of my father most of the day. He usually came over on Sundays for dinner. Tomorrow will mark four weeks that he has passed.