broken sleep and pain

My manuscript was delivered earlier today, early enough that I could go out for my coffee. I had wanted to stay in today and just rest but I got restless. Now my ankle is screaming at me. I am stupid sometimes. I think I can just go through my routine of taking the bus and stuff when last night I woke up three thirty in the morning because of pain and then fell back to sleep at six. I woke up around ten-thirty. So I had broken sleep and pain to warn me not to go out today.

I didn’t know what to do with the manuscript so I just punched holes in it so I could place it in a binder. I took one look at it and got overwhelmed. But then I am getting overwhelmed with everything lately. I think I just got to stick with my blog as that is what makes me happy. I don’t know about this other project my friend has cooked up. I want to help her out and stuff but I think me working on my book and then her project is too much for me. And her piece is just as emotionally exhausting because it centers around my suicidality over the last few months.

I was in the middle of an email to her today as I was coming home when this guy who I can tell has mental issues just came up with me and started a conversation with me about clothing and buying t-shirts at Walgreens because they were cheaper than elsewhere. I was like ok. Then he kept on going on and on and I was like dude, I need to finish this. I had my headphones back in my ears, was looking down at my phone, and this guy was still trying to have a conversation with me. Shit. He was harmless and stuff but he kept on getting closer to me, invading my personal space with every new conversation so that is when I told him I had to finish the email…which by then I totally forgot what my train of thoughts were. That pissed me off. I hate it when someone interrupts me when I am writing. Even my phone decides to interrupt me soon as I open Word. It will be quiet the whole time I am on Facebook but soon as Word is open, texts and emails start coming in and I am like WTF. So now I just turn off the sound while I am working.

Speaking of working, my niece wanted to me to watch Cinderella with her but I had to get what I wrote up in Starbucks in a word document before I totally got exhausted and doped up on my pain meds. I knew the time it takes for the pain to get jacked up and I would have to take something is limited so wanted to get it done before I was in Dopey Land. When I told her I couldn’t because I had work to do, she yelled out, “you have a job”?? I told her yes, I do. I didn’t tell her what, as technically I don’t but I am sick of just saying that I am disabled. And I am a writer now so might as well use that title. But my mother was sitting right next to her and when my niece screamed out those words, my mother heard it, then asked me to clarify. I was like, oh shit! Now what do I say?? I can’t fib to my mother. So I just said that I had to type and made the typing motion with my fingers. No one knows what I do during the day. And it is not like I am getting paid to write my blog or my book or help my friend with her projects. They don’t know how many journals I have filled since being out of work. But my niece struck a cord with me, like I should be working but I am not. And it hurts. I still am dealing with the grief of not working and there goes my eight year old niece stating the obvious. I just feel like a loser.

I have to send my baby (laptop) back to Dell because of the high pitched noise. It is totally deafening my senses when it goes off and literally drives me berserk. It’s not too noticeable when I am playing music but when I am not, holy crap is it loud. And I can only hear it in my left ear because my right has high pitch deafness. The buzzing in my brain goes away when I block my left ear. I might have to use my older laptop until I send this one away but the thing weighs more than this one and gets hot after a while. I am just afraid that I might throw my back out while shuffling it around my bed.

I still have been under the blue moon. As I was walking home, I got struck with this heavy sadness that just froze my chest. It felt like this huge weight was on my chest and I couldn’t breathe. I swear the black clouds are still following me around and I am starting to feel hopeless that they will ever go away again. I know it is that time of the year that I always get more depressed than my usual. It always starts mid-September and won’t relent until sometime in February. I call it baseball depressive disorder because it always co-insides with the end of baseball season and doesn’t relent until spring training. I just hate feeling this way because even though I know it will pass, I just don’t think it will. I start getting wicked hopeless and as that deepens, my sadness just gets worse. Then the suicidal feelings increase and by December I am wondering why I am continue to live when I promised myself it was all going to be over with. I might do it, just because. I so just don’t want to live anymore. I hate feeling trapped into living because of others. It is no way to live. But yet I continue my existence because of others, because that is the type of person I am. And I hate myself for it. I really do.

depression and music

I finally finished my book. Right now it just seems like a hodgepodge of stuff but I don’t care. I will print it out one day next week so I can edit it with a red pen and make changes. I also signed up for Amazon’s self-publish and I think I am going to go with that. It was quick and easy to sign up for. I just don’t know how exactly it is going to work. I know that I will not lose any of my copyrights and will still own my work so I threw in my clinical paper on suicide as the final closing. It know it might be stupid to end the book that way but I really want to get this paper out there because I want people to read it. It has not done so well on my blog sight. I might also put in my most popular blog just as a chapter about CES. Thing is I don’t know how I am going to sell it. But I’ll worry about that when I get closer to publishing it, which I hope will be in a month or so. I have not told my writing partner this. I want to do it on my own first.

Now that I am done, I am sort of depressed. I was depressed most of the day but I think that is because of my stupid menses. Today was a heavy day and it is messing with me so bad. I wish I could just bleed to death and have it be over with it. I did take a shower today, I had to take a shower which meant I couldn’t do anything else today. My foot was too sore already from the last few days. Monday the swelling was so bad that when I took off my sock, I had deep imprints. It took forever for those marks to go away. I also took a lot of pain medication by the end of the night.

I know I should be happy but it’s like when you are reading a good book and you come to the end of it and you are sad…that is what I feel like. I guess it’s a sort of good depression rather than a bad one, if that makes sense. Only thing I am worried about is the editing. I tried it when I was at 50 pgs and failed. I just couldn’t get into it and I know I was skipping words and such, then realized I repeated some stuff and just gave up on the task because it just seemed impossible. I might have a friend that I know is good read it but I don’t know if she would be able to do the 150 pgs. I might have to buy her dinner or something nice as a kind of bribe.

I don’t know why but I asked for another session with my therapist today. This is the third week since she has been back from vacation that I have seen her three times a week. I just feel like I need the extra support right now for some reason. She got my letters about grief and I could tell she wants me to talk about it but she is not pushing me to talk about it. Today we were talking about my appearance as I just sent her a pic to remind her of what I look like. I told her I look disgusting and of course she disagreed. What else is she supposed to say? I know that I have issues with my appearance. I hate the way I look. People think I am attractive but if they only knew how bad I felt inside they wouldn’t think that I am attractive.

Never fails, I get half way through Taylor Swift’s sad beautiful tragic song when I want to change it. By then it’s almost over anyways. It’s probably the only song of hers that I dislike. Oh and speaking of music, I hear some new songs by Pearl Jam today that I really liked so I pre-ordered the new album. I saw a video of Eddie Vedder and man did he change in the last twenty years. He doesn’t look old but you can tell that time been good to him. He is sporting a goatie beard, which I think looks stupid on him and has cut his once beautiful hair. He still can sing though! I can’t wait for the CD to come out. I can’t remember the last time I bought a Pearl Jam cd. I think Vitology was the last album I got. Then it got too metally for my taste.

blah 3

Ever had one of those days where you just feel blank? Like nothing is going on inside your head, no thoughts, no feelings of any sort, just feeling blank? Or have those days where nothing tastes right? Yea, I am having one of those days. I tried to make it a good day but I just feel so blah, like everything is an effort.

I got my hair cut today and I thought I would feel better but I didn’t. I waited around for the bus to the Square to get my coffee and decided to get Mexican food instead of a pastrami sandwhich and it just didn’t taste right. I had half of it then threw it away. I then got my coffee, a pumpkin spice latte, iced and a pumpkin scone. The scone was edible. It was okay but the latte was terrible. I don’t know why but it just didn’t float my boat today. I drank half of it and tossed it. I just was not in the mood to finish it.

My therapist was able to fit me in her schedule today. I guess I should talk to her before the weekend. I hope that I can explain this blank feeling to her. She probably will just say ah ha. And that will be that. I hate it when she says that. I’m going to try and talk about the grief of not working. I think I am having a bout of it today. A friend of mine I used to work with is on twitter and still works in the lab. I miss working with her. She always made me happy when I was grumbling at work. It made the day go by faster because we would have a good laugh to ease to the tension of the work day. The job was stressful. We were responsible for people’s lives as we were the ones to order lab tests the doctors had ordered. If we ordered the wrong test, which happened occasionally, it would suck because it could delay treatment of the patient. I miss it, but I kind of don’t miss the stress of it, especially when it came to pediatric tests. I always felt bad when a little one was sick. Sometimes the nurses drew too much blood or not enough, mostly not enough, and expect us to perform miracles on a tiny drop of blood. I remember we had a newborn who needed a glucose and the nurse sent us the sample like three times and each time was the same amount of blood. She didn’t understand that we needed at least a half a tube of blood to get the test done. The worst part was that the parents were lawyers and were threatening to sue or cause something because she had to repeatedly stick the baby. I felt bad but we need more than a drop of blood to do our job.

We then had funny diagnoses from the ER. My favorite were the ones that came in because they were drunk and fell. Well no shit. Whoever drinks to the point of alcohol poisoning is going to tip over and get hurt. It really sucked when it was a young person. You just knew they could become alcoholics if they weren’t already there. But it was interesting working in the lab. Got to see some really cool specimens and others that were just beyond gross. We once had a sample that was supposed to be urine but because the patient was doubly incontinent, we got both stool and urine. And it stunk really bad. When I called to ask the nurse about it, she just said do the best we can. Yea, hold our breath as we analyzed it and hope we don’t pass out!

I wish I could remember the fun times in the lab. We used to have a lot of fun until a certain supervisor got jealous and made us stop. She really was a bitch though she would always play the injured party when caught. I always tried to keep my “good” side with her because she was such a backstabber, but toward the end of my days, it was getting harder and harder to do. She realized how much of an impact I had when I was there and soon laid off her phoniness with me. Not like that made things better, but it was a step up. I remember there was a time we played a joke on a friend. She had injured her foot in a car accident and took her sneaker off. Well, a coworker and I decided to hide it on her. When she came looking for it hours later, we made up some story that we used the pneumatic tube station and tubed it to blood gas. (it was still in the front office where we were but didn’t let her know that). She hobbled to blood gas looking for her sneaker while me and the other coworker who was in there just laughed our asses off. We actually forgot where we put it, until we went searching for it ourselves. The expression on her face was priceless. Those were the good days. We got the work done and still had a few laughs. Then the lab changed and so did the laughter. It was just work, work, work. Sure we would still have our breaks and such, but damn, it was hard keeping up with the patient’s samples coming in and not enough people to log them in. There were nights we had to leave the outpatient samples for night shift. We could only do so much in eight hours. And computer downtimes, scheduled or unscheduled were always a bitch. You always got that one not so understanding clinician who wanted his stuff above all the others just so his shift could come to a close. We would go out of the way to find it and then find out that there was another doctor covering him. So much for it being a priority!! I would get so pissed off.

There were days I would just get to work and be in a bad mood. Saturdays were the worst. If day shift left us outpatient bags, I was even in a worst mood. Plus they always seemed to wait for me to come in and hand off the problems that should have been dealt with hours ago. I had a rule of not talking to be until after six o’clock, because by then, things were caught up and day shift was really gone and all the problems have been dealt with. But never failed that a half hour or even fifteen minutes before my shift ended more problems would come in and I would have to stay on till exactly midnight or after to make sure they were dealt with and handled properly. I always made sure things were clearly documented so the supervisor would know what was going on. And in my line of work, you had to be clear otherwise mistakes would make the mistake worse.

I liked my job. It was routine. I was the one that was there the longest and knew the system better than anyone (other than the computer staff). I also helped where I was needed even if it wasn’t my “job” for the day. But things got more difficult the more my mobility slowed me down. When we had the big analyzer machine installed, I found I couldn’t run it and aliquot specimens in the same shift. I would be dead the next day and often it lead to me calling out on my next scheduled shift, which I rarely ever had to do. Once I stopped having a car, getting to work on Sunday was getting to be impossible. I was late and it took me over two hours to get to work, by public transportation. I just said the hell with it and worked during the week and Saturdays. Sometimes, I would work only half shifts and even those were painful. I sometimes had to leave my shift in a wheelchair or half way through, go down to the emergency room because the pain got to be so bad I could hardly stand. My leg would swell and hurt really bad. I never found out why it swelled and hurt so much. I just found that I needed a day in between working until finally I had to have restrictions in my day in order to work. Then lost my job because it couldn’t accommodate me. That was really painful, emotionally, because I worked my ass off even through the worst of my pain. I had no idea that it was so restrictive. But it was the only thing that I could think of so I wouldn’t have to take any more time off work and get off FMLA (family medical leave act). So I went from working two jobs to trying to work forty to none in four months. And it sucked! I really didn’t know what I was going to do. I tried to get another position in the hospital but little did I know the hospital had a hiring freeze on. I needed a job that I could work sedentary but couldn’t find one. Then when I lost access to my work email and such, I stopped looking and filed for disability. I already had two psych hospitalizations and was working on a third when I was out of work. I had to file for long term disability, which was a mountain of paperwork. I think it took more paper than social security! I got both within a month of each other. I was glad because finally I could pay off some bills that had piled up while I wasn’t collecting anything. But it still is tough living on a monthly check. I still have not learned the art of budget. I seem to pay the most important bills, my cell phone, Starbucks, health insurance, and cable bill. What I have left has to last me until the next month, which sometimes it doesn’t. I could have a dollar to my name until the next check. And I always make sure that I have transportation money or I am not going anywhere for the month. And that will suck!! I just got to figure out how to spread out at least two hundred dollars of spending money and make it last a month. And somewhere in there has to be food money. I can’t live on coffee alone.

my suicidal career (short version)

My suicidal career:

I write about this not in the sense that Ronald Maris created it as that would be a completed suicide and I am not dead. But my relationship with suicide is a long one, from the time I was eight up until now. It is a struggle I deal with on a constant basis. It along with my depression makes life very unlivable for me. I often think about death in so many ways. I plan my death in so many ways yet I am unable to act on it.

When I was younger, I had no problem acting on my impulses to kill myself. But then protective factors such as my niece and nephew entered my life and I couldn’t bring myself to go ahead and kill myself. The loss was too great for them. I couldn’t imagine what my sister would say to these young kids who adored me. They were my saving grace whenever I had a bad day and really wanted to end my life.

Then chronic pain entered my life and made the balance of protective factors seem out of reach. I felt that I had to ignore them in order to let myself get into the suicidal mind frame to end my life. And I got there several times in the last few years. I had one friend call me every single day for a week until the storm had passed. I had therapy with my therapist several times a week. Nothing stopped the pain and the hurting that I was feeling. And when the pain got worse, so did the suicidal feelings. The feelings turned into plans that never were executed. This is the story of how it evolved and how a few suicide attempts lead to more hospitalizations than I can count.

I first thought about killing myself at the age of eight. I don’t remember the particulars but I thought it would be a grand idea not to be alive anymore. This got worse when I was nine. I really thought that ending my life was the answer to my problems. I hated myself because I felt like I was a burden to my family. I felt I had let them down somehow. I started planning my death at my birthday that year because I couldn’t stand the pain of living anymore. But for some reason, the age ten had a significance for my family and my mother was throwing a big party. I don’t know why she was throwing the party and making a big deal out of it but I figured I might as well stick around and see what I got. I was disappointed that I didn’t get a tape recorder that I wanted. I didn’t try to kill myself that year. But I did try later that year when I had an argument with my mother that now I don’t even remember what we were fighting about. I just told her I wish I was dead and went to my room to try and kill myself. I placed a pillow case over my head and prayed for death to come take me away. It didn’t work. The pillow case was too breathable. I was left crying in my room what seemed like hours. I don’t recall if my mother ever checked on me. I hated my life from then on. Suicide was always on the back burner for me.

This is a book detailing my career in suicide and the journey I went on to deal with it. There have been a couple of close calls but nothing recent, though I still feel the need to kill myself at times. But I do not act on my thoughts. I have attempted suicide many times and according to all the statistics, I should be dead. The one study that I often am in awe at is the one where they found that suicide attempt reactions often predicted future suicide deaths. I am in that category of not wanting to live yet I am still here. I am the outlier. And I hate being the outlier.

This story is my life that centers around my suicidality and the works that helped me get through it. Without finding the American Association of Suicidology, the works of Edwin Shneidman and David Jobes, I doubt I would still be around to talk about my life in this way. There are concepts of these people that I hope to explain in layman’s terms so people know about them because they have had a deep impact on trying to keep me alive.

The first is Edwin Shneidman’s conception of the word psychache. It is a word used to describe psychological pain which is defined as the combination of hopelessness, despair, loneliness, guilt, worthlessness, unbearable anguish, intolerable pain, and helplessness one feels when in deep despair. It is the pain one feels that is deep within you when contemplating your life. His other concept, the twenty frustrated needs is another brilliant sign of what constitutes suicide. They are:
ABATEMENT The need to submit passively; to belittle oneself
ACHIEVEMENT To accomplish something difficult; to overcome
AFFILIATION To adhere to a friend or group; to affiliate
AGGRESSION To overcome opposition forcefully; fight, attack
AUTONOMY To be independent and free; to shake off restraint
COUNTERACTION To make up for loss by retrieving; get even
DEFENDANCE To vindicate the self against criticism or blame
DEFERENCE To admire and support, praise emulate a superior
DOMINANCE To control, influence, and direct others; dominate
EXHIBITION To excite, fascinate, amuse, entertain others
HARMAVOIDANCE To avoid pain, injury, illness, and death
INVIOLACY To protect the self and one’s psychological space
NURTURANCE To feed, help console, protect, nurture another
ORDER To achieve organization and order among things and ideas
PLAY To act for fun; to seek pleasure for its own sake
REJECTION To exclude, banish, jilt, or expel another person
SENTIENCE To seek sensuous, creature-comfort experience
SHAME-AVOIDANCE To avoid humiliation and embarrassment
SUCCORANCE To have one’s needs gratified; to be loved
UNDERSTANDING To know answers; to know the hows and whys

When you have frustrated needs your thoughts of suicide go up. One feels the need to be loved and nurtured and when that doesn’t happen a certain loneliness occurs and it is painful. According to Shneidman, one must rank these needs so the final sum of all is 100. I have never been able to rank them but I find that these needs are important in everyday life. He got them from another psychologist, Henry Murray in his famous book explorations in personality. The theory is that frustrated needs are a causal factor in suicide. Decrease the frustration and reduce the suicide. Then you have the ten commonalities of suicide (suicidal mind):
I. The common purpose of suicide is to seek a
solution.
II. The common goal of suicide is cessation of
consciousness.
III. The common stimulus in suicide is intolerable
psychological pain.
IV. The common stressor in suicide is frustrated
psychological needs.
V. The common emotion in suicide is
hopelessness-helplessness.
VI. The common cognitive state in suicide is
ambivalence.
VII. The common perceptual state in suicide is
constriction.
VIII. The common action in suicide is egression.
IX. The common interpersonal act in suicide is
communication of intention.
X. The common consistency in suicide is with
lifelong coping patterns.
Within suicide you have a vocabulary of suicidal terms. The list is exhaustive but I have a few favorites:

Hopelessness, psychache, lethality, perceived burdensomeness, thwarted belongingness, press, perturbation, fearlessness and competence.

Perceived burdensomeness, fearlessness, competence, and thwarted belongingness are not Shneidman’s term but of another suicidologist Tom Joiner. I read his book why people die by suicide and found it fascinating. It really is a good read and helped me to understand my suicidality a little better.

Hopelessness, the feeling of being lost in hope, that nothing is ever going to change, that things will always be the same no matter what.
Psychache is defined as despair, intolerable anguish, hopelessness, guilt, worthlessness, and unbearable psychological pain one feels. It is like pain in the heart that no one else can feel. Your heart feels heavy and you feel like a burden because of it. Nothing soothes this pain. No medication can touch it. And suicide seems like the only answer for this type of pain and anguish.
Lethality, the degree to which someone is at risk for suicide. Whether it be a loaded gun or a few bottle of pills or some cuts on the wrist. This is what determines how suicidal a person is and how they are going to act. If the risk is high and eminent, involuntary hospitalization is called for. If the risk is low, then more contact is need and assessment at every visit.
Perceived burdensomeness, the idea that you are a burden to those around you but in reality you are not,
Thwarted belongingness, the idea that you don’t belong anywhere and feel the need to belong somewhere. It is a very awkward and lonely place that hurts very badly. Everyone wants to feel like they belong somewhere or to something and when that need is not met, they feel detached and alone.
Press, similar to stress. It is as if the building of the press is similar to the pressure of a volcano ready to explode. It can lead to further perturbation and make things worse.
Perturbation, the need to feel or do something to ease the pressure and anguish and despair they are feeling and to feel better. It can lead to want to do something but the idea is that you need to do something to relieve the pressure of the feelings on your chest.
Fearlessness, the absence of fear. In this regard, it means that people may be fearless when trying to take their life, like a type of Russian roulette.
Competence, the meaning is the level of competence to carry out the means for their suicidal plan. Examples include rope for hanging, gun handling and shooting, knowledge of drugs, etc. High competency is a high risk factor.