Tag: hopelessness

a little more about me

by Midnight Demon, posted in depression, mental disorders, mental illness, mood disorders, suicide, suicide attempt, transgender

I have been thinking about taking my life since I was eight years old. I was in a lot of pain for some reason or another and it never got taken cared of. Today I think that pain stems from the fact that I am really a male and not a female. I knew at a young age that I was different and back then, there was no expressing how I truly felt. I really think that if I got help sooner, this would have come to light sooner and I wouldn’t be in this pickle today about what to do with my transition.

I’ve know since I was in kindergarten that I was different than the other girls in my class because I wanted to play with “boy” toys rather than with dolls. I found playing dress up boring as all hell and mostly destroyed my dolls as my mother would tell you. I would always take my toys apart, wonder how they worked but could never put them back together again as I would end up destroying them.

I didn’t mind being different. This was a time where I still thought I was straight so I thought that if a boy liked me, he had to like me for who I was rather than what I am. I still feel this way today, though to a greater extent than a five year old’s thinking. I just know that I was a boy though I could not express what I was feeling. Everyone called me a girl and I just could not understand why. It wasn’t until I started my menarche that I inwardly defied being a “woman” and the feelings of wanting to die grew stronger. I knew there was no way in hell I could tell my parents I was a boy. My father downright refused to let me play sports because I was a “girl” and that hurt more than anything. I couldn’t play soccer but I could play basketball when I got to high school. I still don’t know why I had to go to the girls room and be on the girls team but I just figured I was following the rules of play and that was what I did. I hated starting arguments so I just played along. It wasn’t until I was in my early thirties that the realization of me growing into a boy was not going to happen. I think I am a boy for many reasons. I have hair in places most girls do not and I have facial hair. I love wearing men’s clothing, doing men things like watching sports, and my closest friends are men. I tend to think more of man things like how things work and other stuff that is being more than just being a tomboy. Terri Clark is a tomboy but she shows her feminine side at times. I don’t feel I have a feminine side and would hate it if I did. Things like make up and jewelry just don’t interest me. I think just having one pair of shoes is sufficient, I hate shopping, and I can’t stand hair products.

The depression gets bad and I am always hating myself. I hate my appearance. I hate my body. I hate me, I actually loath and despise myself. There is no other term I can describe how much I hate myself for not being who I really am. This constant pretending is killing me. But I don’t think about it often because it will just drive the suicidal self into action if I do. For years I have kept a lid on who I really was but I can’t do that anymore because it just hurts too much. I have to be who I am and if anyone can’t understand it, then they don’t need to be in my life. It hurts when the pronoun gets misused. I love it when I am called sir but then I kind of feel really bad when they correct it. Unfortunately, now that I am severely overweight, my figures are more defined so I am being called Ma’am more often and it hurts. Sometimes with baggy clothes or jacket I can still be called sir or mister but that is rare these days. I hardly go out anymore. I just can’t face the world. I have become reclusive to my own surroundings. I hate going out for anything even if it is for my one cup of Joe a day.

The sad truth about CES

by Midnight Demon, posted in cauda equina syndrome, CES, Chronic pain, depression, medical, mood disorders, suicide, suicide attempt

8-Dec-12

I’m faced with a dilemma. A friend of mine that I have known for the past year or so via email has just emailed saying that she is going to kill herself soon because she just can’t take it anymore. She feels no one will care and that Obamacare wants her to commit suicide anyway because she has a chronic illness and it will cost too much to keep her alive.

I feel I should let someone know but I don’t want to betray her confidence in me by telling people about her plan. She doesn’t want to be talked out of it. I understand where she is coming from and it troubles me that I can’t do anything to try and stop her. I know that if I do, she will probably not talk to me again and most likely be more determined than ever to try again or just attempt it without talking to me first about it. Her husband has neglected her emotionally. She has no one to talk to except via email. She has no close family members and is dependent solely on her husband for everything as she is in a poor state of health. I am mad at the husband for failing his wife. Maybe she is right and she will be better off dead. I often feel that way but I can feel the pain in what she writes and I know the agony and psychache she feels.

I just wrote her an email begging her not to go through with it and have me try and talk with her about things. To al least email me when she does so I can be with her so she isn’t alone when she dies. I don’t know what else to do or say to her. I know I could ask someone in the group to call her but like I said before I don’t want to betray her confidence. I know in suicide there is no confidences or promises but I hate just sitting here not knowing what to do. It really sucks to be in this type of position. Who am I to stop her? I know the pain she is going through. I know the misery it brings. I know the loss of dignity that this dreaded nerve condition brings. It’s awful that she has someone living with her that doesn’t care anymore. It makes me sad that she has to go through this alone. I hope that my email finds her and that she hasn’t done it yet. If I don’t get a response then I’ll know that I was too late in reaching out to a friend in need. I don’t even have her number to call her and check on her. I knew that she was suicidal in the past. We have talked about it many times before.I just didn’t know she would go through with it. Sometimes writing about what you are going to do puts you in a better frame of mind. It sometimes proves to be cathartic. I know that if I write the most horrible depressing, despairing letters I feel better afterwards. I don’t feel so suicidal afterwards. It sucks being in pain all the time and not having any relief. I get why she wants to do this and I respect her decision. All you can think about is death when you are in pain 24/7 because all you want is relief. Doesn’t matter how you achieve your death, you just know dying is better than living. It takes its toll on you that no one else can understand except for other who suffer with you. No one except someone with the same or similar condition can know the depths of despair, hopelessness, exhaustion, chronic pain, chronic worry that this condition brings. It’s an invisible illness as after surgery, you can’t really see the damage anymore on the MRI or x-ray but you can feel it. The constant burning, loss of sensation, loss of bowel/bladder, loss of sexual function all encompass this illness caused by stenosis, disc herniation, or trauma to the cauda equine nerves, the horse’s tail. It’s the bundle of nerves that begin where the spinal cord ends, usually at the L1/L2 vertebrae.

Saturday Nights

by Midnight Demon, posted in Chronic pain, depression, mental disorders, mental illness, mood disorders, suicide, suicide attempt

It’s another Saturday night. Of me not working the evening shift. Another Saturday of me not getting aggravated with the bozos of the day shift that have left work all up to the high heaven because they decided to leave it for evening shift. No longer am I burdened with the calls of the nurses and doctors who want their results from 2 pm because it is now 6 pm and why is it taking so long. Of having to explain to them I am just getting to their sample now because some lay brained idiot left it where it was hidden under a basket or transport missed it in the last pick up and it is now arriving now. No longer am I responsible for taking shit from these air brains and stuffing it all inside leading me to want to kill myself. Every Saturday night.

Every Saturday night for about the past year I had been thinking about taking my life after one of these horrendous shifts. It wasn’t something that came one day out of the blue. It had been brewing for sometime until I found the perfect place. What better way to say fuck you to an institution that you hate than to take your life in it. Least that is what I was thinking. Now we’ll never know if I will go ahead with my plans though I have gotten the means and left the means in one of my lockers.  It was a safe place to have these things in there and knowing I could act at any time. My therapist knew all the while I had the loaded gun so to speak and was ready to pull the trigger at any time. I just never got the courage to actually go through with it for fear of there being security cameras where I wanted to do it. I thought that if I went up there in the late hours of the morning and got caught on tape, my job would not only be over but I would be taking some quality time in some psych ward for some period of time. Psychiatrists don’t like to let someone loose when they know they have attempted or near attempted suicide.  I don’t miss the wondering and the planning. For months I had this plan and just when I couldn’t take things anymore, there I had my plan. All nice and detailed. All I had to do was learn to make knots. But I figured if I went that far, I would be in deeper trouble. The plan would go from thought to preparation and that was more serious. And dangerous. It was a step closer to ending my life.

explanation of myths of suicide

by Midnight Demon, posted in CES, Chronic pain, depression, medical, mental disorders, mental illness, suicide, suicide attempt

Today I did nothing but sleep. I have been in pain the last few nights and today was the first reprieve that I have had since then. I am not entirely pain free but I am feeling better than I was.

I wrote a crappy paper about holiday myths surrounding suicide. The myth is that there is more suicides around the holidays than any other time of year. That simply is not true as July gets as many as 111 suicides. For December, it is only 98. Still very close numbers but what kills me is that they argue that suicides are less but they don’t focus on the attempters. Those ATTEMPTERS may be the ones to complete a suicide during the holiday because they now know what steps to do so they can succeed. I maybe wrong. I had a friend that attempted the day after Christmas and this person is never going to do it again. This person states that she can never go back there again. I hope that is true. Not that I don’t believe her. Most people who attempt once will never try again. It is the chronicity of those that attempt multiple times that need the help the most. They are the ones that truly need the extra support during this time because they simply cannot cope with another holiday that is supposed to be joyous but they are not.

Holidays suck. People put on their happy faces to pretend when they do not care less about this holiday than any other. This day and age has stepped far away from tradition and more on materialistic styles of life. The iPad, iTouch, the cellphones, the big screen TVs. And then in January, they get the bills so no wonder by July people are ready to kill themselves because they can’t afford what they purchased and their six-month grace period is over. Am I being sarcastic? Hell yes. Is there truth to what I just said, maybe. I cannot prove it. I just recently paid off a credit card and find some freedom in that. Meanwhile I still owe Uncle Sam big bucks for my student loans. My credit sucks up the ying-yang. Do I want to kill myself to get out of debt, hell yea, but I don’t because the debt is going to be there regardless if I am alive or not. Granted I have no idea what happens to debt when someone dies. I know it won’t be in my will that so and so gets this portion and Uncle Harry gets this. I don’t even know if I will leave a will.

People talk about suicide notes all the time but the majority do not leave one. I know that I have been through many suicidal crises and have never really left a note. The past few years I have been writing them to save face for my nieces and nephew. So they know that I love them even though the pain I have caused them is meaningless. I hope they never think about taking their lives. It is a horrible place to be in when thinking about it. I shudder every time I think about where I was when I last tried. It wasn’t that long ago. I still remember the desperation I felt. I didn’t call anyone. I didn’t write to anyone. I just took pill after pill hoping to take my pain away.

There has been two holidays that I have tried to take my life. The first was in 1994 and the second was in 2005. I was hospitalized in 1994 for Christmas and New Years, hell Thanksgiving too. It was a bad time for me. I had severe depression and could not get a grip on things. I overdosed on some pills and the next thing I knew I was in the hospital for three months.

In 2005, it was different. I had planned to take my life Nov 5th of that year but my therapist begged me not to and some how we got through it. I vaguely remember it. I didn’t attempt anything but I did plan every single detail. I ended up in partial hospital as gone were the days of long admissions. I learned some things while in Partial but I still wanted to end my life. Thought about it everyday, just kept changing the date. That is how close I came. The following year I took a psychometric class and learned about psychache, perturbation, and press. Not in the class. The professor was an idiot when it came to these issues, but on my own learning. I am somewhat of an autodidact and pick up more on my own than in the classroom. But that semester I learned more than any other. And I was grateful for it because it gave me a chance to learn more about suicidality than I had previously. Finally someone understood my struggle. Finally someone understood my pain. Though I then became a member of the American Association of Suicidology, I still am today. I am a proud member and I get to go to their annual conference and learn more about the treatments are for people like me.