Tag: mental illness

Sunday Blog 11

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

Sunday Blog 11

I finished off the left over Chinese food for dinner. I am still hungry though. I might make a tuna sandwich later if I am really hungry. I haven’t had it in a while. I am trying not to have an Ensure and eat real food. It’s hard though because the Ensure will fill me up and is around 350 calories. I haven’t been eating more than 1000 calories a day lately which is why I have been continuing to lose weight.

I talked with my psychiatrist. She continued to assure me that what I am feeling and experiencing is normal. She hopes that the “movies” about my father’s death will fade with time. I keep reliving the last two hours of his life. Being in my father’s apartment yesterday for five hours didn’t help me.

While I was describing what was happening to my psychiatrist, I got sad and started to cry a little. I was just overwhelmed with sadness. She wants me to continue to write about my experiences. She said that it was amazing that I could articulate what I was feeling. That made me feel a little better.

My middle sister keeps posting pictures of my father when he was younger. It is kind of bothering me but I understand she wants to express her grief at losing him. She misses him. I don’t. I am still expecting him to call any minute saying he has some type of pain and needs to be taken to the hospital. Or asking me when I will be over his house to do his meds. It was weird filling my pill box this afternoon knowing I won’t be doing my father’s anymore. It is hard. I can’t wrap my head around it. I guess that is why I am still numb at times.

I never wrote the blog for the Daily Post. I started it but my mind kept blanking out. Then the song that has been in my head all day came on my music player and thought some more of what I should write but nothing came of it. I started a letter to my therapist thinking it might get me going. Nope, nothing. I wrote a small paragraph and blanked out on what I wanted to say. Fuck.

I went to Walgreens and got some mailers so I can mail my book to my cousin that wants a signed copy. I also got a thank you card for my father’s PCP. I will mail it when I have the energy to fill it out. Just like I will mail my cousin’s book basically when I am up to it. I am still playing catch up with the blur that was last week. I need a few days of doing nothing. I just want to stay at home. I don’t even want to go to Starbucks. I still have no interest in the Red Sox. I know when they are playing and I follow the tweets on Twitter, but I could care less. I have no idea what place they are in, who is doing well, who is sucking, nothing.

My pain levels are up. My foot has been cramping most of the day and now my ankle is painful. It’s been raining off and on all day so I think that is why. I took some pain meds but I think I need to take Neurontin because my foot is on fire. I think 1200 mg will be a good dose. 900 wasn’t giving me long enough relief.

One day I will write about the events that happened last Monday. I think writing about it will help ease the “movie” that keeps running rampant in my brain. I still feel like I should have done more for him. I know I couldn’t call 911 or something to help him but there had to be something I could have done so that he would be okay. Maybe I just didn’t want him to die. As much as I planned on it and expected it, I still didn’t want to lose my father, even if he was a bastard.

sleeplessness, suicide, and other things

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

I took my night meds because I was feeling sleepy. Then I experienced some side effects. I think it was most likely withdrawal as I haven’t taken a pain med since last night. So I took one pill and now I am awake. I am listening to music and it’s keeping me awake. I know I should shut it off and try and get some sleep but I am not tired anymore. I hate when I wake up. It’s after midnight.

I started writing a blog/essay about my experience with dealing with the suicidality of the night before. I got to less than 200 words and gave up. I should have hand wrote it. Now the thoughts have escaped me. I hate when that happens. I really wanted to include it in my book.

The American Association of Suicidology will be having their annual conference in a couple days time. People are already meeting up and the conference doesn’t officially start until Thursday. I just care about what Jobes says. I hope he doesn’t have a pre conference workshop. I won’t be by my laptop Wednesday because I have an appointment with my psych. I also emailed her about my “episode”.

What strikes me about this episode is that there was no trigger other than intense psychache. My heart was being torn apart in a million pieces and I just wanted to die. I had the means to die. I just had to act but I didn’t. No one would know why I attempted to kill myself. I am not so sure either. I know I didn’t want to die in my room, not where someone close to me would find me. I never would be trusted again with my pills. And I am 40 years old to be treated like a child would be such an insult.

I honestly don’t know what would happen if I attempted and didn’t succeed in my house. That is something that I really don’t want to find out. I didn’t do anything to harm myself last night, as intense as the feelings were. And it seemed like they only lasted about ten minutes before they dissipated as fast as they appeared. I held out, again. My only question is, what about next time? Will I be so lucky, if that is the word to use?

In twelve hours I will find out if my therapist will honor my cancellation of our appointment. There has been no indication from her whether she will call me or not. So I am left wondering. I gave her plenty of time to cancel, more than 24 hours. But I don’t know if the blog that I sent her will void the cancellation. She will do that sometimes. I guess that is part of the reason why I can’t sleep. I am too worried about the what ifs. If she doesn’t call, I can leave my house earlier and get my Starbucks. I can also get my letter from my new PCP for my loan documentation that I need.

I continued the rant on Twitter about how the NP dismissed my depression as “stress”. I have never felt so offended before in my life. Stress is not something that causes depression or make you lose weight, your appetite, lose sleep, and feel worthless. I had all the physical symptoms of depression and she dismissed them. I can’t trust her anymore, not with my depression anyways. I have to keep the elephant in the room quiet now. I miss my old PCP. He understood. He was one of a kind. And the institution where he worked lost a great physician.

walking in mud continues

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

Walking in Mud Continues

My father’s prescription was ready so I had to go to his house to settle his meds for the week. I took the bus there and then had to walk from the pharmacy to his house. I took me more than a half hour to walk because my feet felt like lead. I couldn’t walk fast to save my life. It was horrible. I was so exhausted by the time I got to his place. I hadn’t had anything to eat before I went to his apartment. After I missed the bus, I decided to go to dunkin and get a coffee and some donuts. I must have spilled more coffee on me than I actually drank. The lid wasn’t too secure. I now smell like French vanilla. I was going to make coffee at home but I was too sleepy to get out of bed early enough to make it.

My ankle is hurting from the walk. I got it propped up on my bed to try and relieve some of the swelling. I also have taken some pain meds to help deal with the stupid pain. Soon as it calms down some I plan on making something to eat. I think a black bean burger on sourdough bread is on the menu.

I am exhausted and need sleep. Think I will nap and then make the burger. This depression is so hard. I can’t write even 500 word blogs anymore. I am sorry for my new readers. I am not normally like this. I hope it passes quickly because I am not sure how much more I can take. I hate when my writing is affected. It’s my sole means of expressing myself when I am down, other than listening to music or watching a baseball game. But even baseball, my favorite sport of all time, I have no interest in. I try to keep up with the scores and stuff but I just can’t. It’s too much for me right now.

I feel like I am drowning and no one is seeing me. My family hasn’t made any comments about my weight so I doubt they have noticed. But then, they have been preoccupied with Easter and my father all week.

A friend that I met at my last hospitalization is in the ER right now waiting for a bed. Pisses me off that there are no mental health beds available like there are medical beds. She has been in the ER since Thursday. That is just wrong.

heart doesn’t know to stop beating

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

Visited my father. It’s been one thing after another today. He was not in a talkative mood when we came by to see him. I think it was because he was hungry. He had half of the chicken they served for lunch and then he was full. He didn’t drink too much while we were there. My sister tried to get him to drink water but nope. He needs to undergo more testing and then he might be home Monday.

I am hurting. I am starting to think that going out today was probably not a good idea. I did a lot of walking. My ankle and foot are screaming at me. I had gone to the Square to get my Starbucks. I had a soy latte and did some writing in my journal. Then went to see my father. I was falling asleep on the train. I wanted to continue the train ride to the end of the stop rather than getting off, but I had to see my father and get a better understanding of what the plan was.

I have been feeling really depressed the past few days, more so than usual. I keep thinking of the loss of my father but I really can’t imagine it happening anytime soon. I was talking to a friend and she says I got to deal with it. I can’t right now. I haven’t thought about suicide or anything. I still don’t want to be here but killing myself is too much trouble. Soon as I can make it easy I will try though. I’m starting to feel hopeless that I am going to get better. I mean, how many depressive episodes am I to endure? My psychiatrist doesn’t think it’s a disability but I can’t work, I don’t have energy for self-care. I barely shower when I have these episodes or brush my teeth. I feel like death except I am alive. My heart just doesn’t know to stop beating. I am in chronic pain all the time, which doesn’t help the depressions because they feed off each other. I don’t know how to live anymore. I don’t want to live anymore.

I don’t think I will be visiting my father tomorrow unless my sister gives me a ride in. Taking public transportation has just been too much. I am in so much pain. I am exhausted from waiting around and then dealing with the stress of my father’s temperament. You never know if he is going to explode or not. And he wants everything done quickly. I really want my depression to be gone as quickly as it came but I have a feeling it’s going to be sticking around for sometime. I am not hopeful that the sertraline is going to help. I am still at a baby dose. I don’t increase it till Monday. Waiting is something I should be used to with this thing but I am just like my father in that I want to be better now, not later. Unfortunately, that’s not how mental illness works. With my father, he isn’t going to get better. He is going to get worse and then die. I wish I had that luxury, too.