Tag: mental illness

in a hopeless state of mind

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

In a hopeless state of mind

I can’t sleep because of pain and too much on my mind. I keep reading people’s messages about the two people that died by suicide this week and the CDC supposed data that suicide is increasing. I don’t trust the CDC anymore because it fudged data just to push an agenda that hurt people like me with chronic pain.

Some of the messages I read concerned helplines. Do people think that talking with someone for five minutes can help a lifetime of anguish? Probably not. Can it bring enough hope so that person can see to tomorrow? Maybe.

The past few months I have wrestled and anguished with my own thoughts of death. Hell, the beginning of the week, I was tormented with psychache, spoke about it on social media, and then was reported. In the email from Twitter, it said that I could speak to a hotline and there are resources. I deleted the email. What it comes down to, is whether I seek help or not. My choice, really. No one else’s to make. Just like you, reading this. You don’t have to read my blog. No one is holding a gun to head saying to read Midnight Demon. We all have battles that we face, some bigger than others but that doesn’t make them any less of a battle. It could be drugs, alcohol, depression, suicide, mania, voices, paranoia, etc. Some times someone feels too good to get help. Some times someone feels too bad to get help. Others may not think they are worthy or are too afraid what others might think of them if they seek help.

If you have a problem, whatever it is, someone else might have it too. You are not alone. There are people who have alcohol issues, mania issues, depression, trauma, sexual abuse, physical abuse, etc. and live to face another day though they may not want to. Some people, like me, think of suicide often. And that is really scary to some people, so much so they think by reporting them or calling the cops on them is the answer. But let me tell you what happens when you don’t face that person and ask, how can I help or if you need to talk I am here. It shuts them down. That was their one chance of opening up these vulnerable feelings and you just slammed the door, possibly forever, of them ever talking about their dark side ever again. Reporting does not help. I got an email with a hotline and a link to a resource. Did I use it? No, I deleted it. Someone once reported my online activities to the police. The local cops came and scared the crap out of my aunt and pissed me the fuck off. You think I am going to write in my blog the same way again? Fuck no. And why? Because of people like you who are too stupid to understand someone else’s pain and despair. To sit with it and deal with it rather than throwing it at someone else because you can’t be the better person.

I may end my life one day and sadly, even though I talk about it on my blog, you will never know about it because of this one person that sent cops to my door one morning a few years ago. It shuts people down. So I understand why Kate Spade didn’t seek help. She was afraid. I can’t say anything about the other guy. I never heard of him until he died a couple days after Kate. Would either of them have called a hotline? Would either of them have opened the link to the resources that were provided to them? Probably not. Their battle was theirs alone. Their decision was theirs to make. I understand it because I have lived it time and time again. In one of the legal pads I was trying to find to write this down on, I came across a story I wrote that I later published. It is also on my blog (I think). It was about a night where I was in so much pain, I wanted to end my life. And though I had promised my therapist and psychiatrist that I would call them should I feel like ending my life, I didn’t. I had hotlines to call. I had coping skills to use. Instead I wanted to end my life right there and then because of the agony of my foot and ankle but because I couldn’t walk three friggen feet to my bureau, 36 inches away from me to get more pills to take to end my life, it saved me. I woke up and wondered what I did. I will never forget that fear and the shame I felt. I was scared to tell my therapist and psychiatrist what I went through. Terrified that I would be once again be on the psych unit of some hospital never to breathe fresh air again.

Lately, I have been saying, Always be kind. You never know who might need it and is depending on it to survive another day. If you are still reading this and not dialing 911, reach out in other ways. Call that friend you haven’t spoke to in a while that seemed to have stopped posting on social media. Or that friend that was supposed to go to a cookout but didn’t show up. They just might need to know that someone other than the demons in their head care for them. And be kind and non-judgmental. Ask them if they need help with something that is important to them. They might not tell you everything or they might not even want to talk, just listen. Sit with their darkness. It will mean the world to them.

ping pong Friday

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

Ping Pong Friday

I had a late appointment with my pain doc today so I did a few errands before it. I got my haircut, went to Starbucks to fuel up because I was starving, and then went into Boston to fix my glasses as the nosepad was broken. That took only a few minutes and I told her I was having trouble reading so I set up an appt with the eye doc for next week to check my eyes. I am still covered should there be a prescription change.

I then hung out in the lobby until it was time for my appt. I had to pick up my script for my pain meds so I did that and then wrote in my journal. I felt like I lost a best friend as I hadn’t had time to write in some time. It felt so good to write a couple of pages. I need to bring another journal as I have about 10 pages left. I have plenty so I don’t need to buy one.

I was extremely nervous for my appointment. A medical student came in and took a brief history as to why I was there. Then the doc came in and he said he didn’t know what to do for me. Excuse me? You need to write me a script for the medication you agreed to put me on. Then he said his clinic doesn’t do that. YOU ARE A FUCKING PAIN CLINIC, What the fuck do you mean you don’t do that!!??? He said he was just a consultant and that the primary would write it. Oh my fucking god. I have barely enough pain meds to last me the weekend as I can’t fill them till Sunday. He said he would email my PCP and HE would get back to me. Okay, asshole. I vowed never to go back there for anything. The whole place is a fucking joke.

I leaving fuming mad. I put Pearl Jam on as it is the only music to keep me from killing someone at that point. I look at the current pain meds and the bastard was right, I can’t fill it till Sunday. I think I will have enough until then as long as I don’t flare. I go on the train and no seats are available so I stand the whole way, barely listening to the music in my ears.

I get off at my stop, go across the street to get some slices of pizza and fries because that is what I wanted for dinner goddamn it. I placed my order and as I was waiting a restricted number calls my phone. I answer and it is the pain doc’s office. The asshole said he would prescribe as he talked with my PCP. I am to pick up the script on Monday. Wonderful but that doesn’t help me this weekend for pain meds!!! And that will mean going to the same hospital Monday for the script and then Tues to see my chickenshit PCP.

I am so fucking frustrated. I counted my meds and I barely have enough to get me through Monday. This is because I don’t have a 28 count of meds. I have a 21 day supply of meds even though I am supposed to have a 28 day. If I have a flare later or this weekend, I don’t know what I am going to do. I can’t go more than 8 hours without meds as I will go through withdrawal. Been there, done that, not fun. Even with the new medication, I have no idea if I will have withdrawal from what I am currently taken because I have never stopped it before for another med. I didn’t have a chance to ask about this because the asshole didn’t want to deal with me. I know technically, I should be okay because the same opiate receptors will be having the new med but I don’t know. How can you go from 12 years being on one drug to a new drug and still have the brain be happy??? We’re not talking ibuprofen for Tylenol here, same result, different pathways.

I have four appointments next week. I was really hoping to try this new med tonight to see if I could be functional come Monday. Now that is all fucking messed up. My PT won’t be happy if I cancel. I could possibly reschedule my chickenshit PCP appt. I really don’t know why I need to see him anyway other than to slap him silly for doing this to me. Only has taken NINE fucking months to get to where I am right now, and I still have to wait till Monday to have a change in meds. NINE FUCKING MONTHS of back and forth. Jumping through hoops left and right. All the while planning my suicide because I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t fathom going on in this amount of pain day after day on the meds I was taking that was only putting in a dent on the pain. It helped but I had to keep myself loaded every six fucking hours and then take a breakthrough med that lasted only four fucking hours. I only have enough to last me until Monday if I don’t flare. If I flare, Monday I will have zip. I am trying to figure out what kind of pain med schedule to be on until Monday. Severe pain doesn’t stop with one pill. Fuck if it did, I would only be taking one pill every couple of hours. But I need two and frankly, more than two doses aren’t going to last me. Panic is high, which I am trying to calm myself because that can send me into flare mode.

I am supposed to go to a cousin’s vending place tomorrow. I don’t know how much standing/walking will be had. I still don’t know if I will flare later tonight because of all that I did today. I am so mad that I left his office only for a half hour later for him to call me. Like what the fuck. I shouldn’t have left until he called right then and there. I emailed my psychiatrist about all this. She won’t get it until next week as she is on vacation. If she was around, I would call her. So between being pinged to my pain doc back to my pcp back to pain doc back to pcp, I am now back to pain doc to get my pain hopefully under some control. Who knows, maybe I can put my plan off if it works out.

random thoughts 07062018

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

I was up late last night. I was talking to a friend who was concerned about me. I didn’t tell her specifically what I was going through. But it was getting late and I let her know that I will talk to her sometime today. She said okay.

I then got a message from another Twitter buddy saying some friends have contacted him over their concern for me. I had told him months ago what I was planning so he knew. He said I was important to him. I told him he was important to me, too. I didn’t say more than that.

I went downstairs and made coffee. I couldn’t decide what I wanted to eat. I ended up making a peanut butter sandwich. Afterwards, I took out the recycle and trash. I was feeling okay but the bins were on the street so I had to do some walking back and forth. By the time I was done, my foot yelled at me. I limped upstairs. There was one more bag of recycle to take out. I wasn’t going to do it, least not then. I went up to my room and even though I checked off that I took my pain meds, I didn’t. I took them and tried to nap but my foot wasn’t having it.

I am hurting a great deal because of the trash. I had taken a shower so I am sure that just stressed me without realizing it. I am so tired of being in pain. I am trying not to freak out over tomorrow. Tomorrow I see the pain doc and I hope my pain meds will be changed. My PCP has written my current meds which I will pick up tomorrow before the appointment should the pain doc not prescribe or if there is a problem filling them at the pharmacy so I will have meds over the weekend. I am seeing the pain doc late so by the time I get home, and if there is a problem, I won’t be able to fix it until Monday, which will leave me with no meds.

I wanted to write a blog last night but nothing was coming to me. I had woken up around 1500 so there wasn’t much to talk about. I had written a blog around 0600. I don’t know why blogging is becoming so hard for me. I guess it is hard when there is no feedback and I feel like I am just throwing the words out but no one is reading. There may be a few who read the blog for the day but no comment or like. I don’t think I got a like on my blog since last week. This blog is just an outlet for me but lately, I just say the same things. Pain, routine, end of blog.

There was a wonderful facebook post about Kate Spade. She is the fashion bag designer that died by suicide the other day. The write wrote about how she knew this actor had cancer and the type it was and listed a few people with other chronic illnesses, but you don’t hear about people with depression or anxiety or schizophrenia. No one wants to hear that. Everyone seems to judge them on their character, saying if you are this then you can’t be depressed or anxious or have a serious mental illness. Stigma kills so many people who want to get help yet are afraid about how they will be perceived after they have or even to admit they have a mental illness.

My blog started off as a way to talk about suicide because no one was. It is a daily struggle for me but I have stopped because there are people out there who don’t understand or are fearful about it so they report me. I had it happen on Twitter the other day. Just because someone says they are thinking about ending their lives doesn’t mean they are going to right then and there. Talk to them about it. Be there for them. Don’t make them feel more crazy than they are already feeling. Be a support to them and if need be, go with them to get help. Admitting you have a problem is only half the battle. I know so many people who have serious issues and the one thing holding them back is fear of how they are going to be perceived by others. Fuck them. You need help, get it. Simple as that. If the first person you talk to you don’t like or doesn’t fit with you, try someone else. I went through so many therapists to find the right one. And even though the therapist I see now is not right for me, he is good enough. Yes, rejection hurts. I have been rejected by so many therapists because of my suicidal history it is not funny. But I didn’t let that stop me from finding the one I am with now. If the psychiatrist you are with doesn’t help you, there are others. Find them. I know it’s not easy and you think you are hopeless, but you are not. That is the depression lying to you. Too many families go through heartbreak because one member doesn’t seek help they need. Take the step. There are resources out there. Check out NAMI or Google a search for therapists in your area. Talk to your primary doctor about how you are feeling and that you need help. They can often refer you to someone. Or call your insurance and find out who is accepting new patients. Ask how recent the list is because most therapists (as I found out) are not always seeing new patients as the list is old and hasn’t been updated in years.

Cry Pretty

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

Cry Pretty

Carrie Underwood has a new song out called Cry Pretty and I fricken love it. It is spot on for those that struggle with the “mask” or façade of living, either with mental or chronic illness. I have been listening to it nearly non-stop since buying it. The video just came out last night on American Idol. She has such a tremendous voice. Better than the bitch Miranda Lambert. She blows her in the dust with her vocals alone!

My day has sucked. I woke up at 5 because I was cold. The temp dropped and the ceiling fan finally cooled my room a little too much. I couldn’t go back to sleep so I did some retail shopping online and then had something to eat. By then I was tired enough to sleep a few hours before I had to be up.

When my alarm went off, I didn’t want to get up. I stayed in bed for another 15 minutes or so and then took a shower. The shower just exhausted me. I really didn’t want to go to therapy or leave the house. I rested for a little bit and let my Bluetooth headset charge for a while. Then I got ready to leave. I totally forgot about the pumpkin cake to bring to my barbers and therapist. I will have to do that tomorrow. I also forgot to pack my pain meds so that wasn’t at all good.

While I was at Starbucks, my chickenshit PCP emailed me back saying he wanted the pain doc to prescribe me the new med. Rather than wait till the clinic called me, I called them and found out he isn’t here for the next two weeks and his next available isn’t until June. I said I had to see him sooner and what was going to do about my meds. She transferred me to the nurse but they didn’t pick up and they didn’t have a voicemail. I called back but was put on hold. I got pissed and hung up. Then I emailed my PCP again telling him this and what should I do. I didn’t hear back. I emailed my psych and she understood that I am frustrated but I need to wait as it was “the right thing for my PCP to be doing”. Whatever. I seriously doubt my PCP will EVER prescribe these meds to me now that I am being seen by the pain clinic. So I started crying in Starbucks because I was just so frustrated. Then I put on Pearl Jam and that made me feel better to rock out to their music. Pearl Jam always helps when I am frustrated.

I went to therapy and didn’t bawl as much as I thought I would. We talked and he could tell I was tired and frustrated. After therapy, I was starting to feel sick. Withdrawal from missing my pain med dose at noon was kicking around and I chose to wait for the bus. I waited nearly a half hour for the damn bus. I missed the bus at the Square home so had to catch another bus to take me to the other bus home. Then my bladder was telling me it had to be emptied. I swear I was getting hit from all sides. The bus was fricken late. I had to stop in Walgreens for my mother. Of course there was a line. I was not fucking happy. I was tempted to just leave and tell my mother I would pick it up tomorrow but I didn’t want to hear her.

I came home and I am ready to fricken pass out. My ankle is telling me to fuck off. I go up to my room and quickly take some pain meds. Then I change to my PJs and go back downstairs to use the bathroom, except my mother is in there. Fuck. I waited and then went to the bathroom. Too late. I waited too long. My boxers were fricken wet. I put them in the hamper and then went back upstairs to change into clean boxers. I like my black ones and couldn’t find one. I couldn’t find a damn one of the million I have. Like what the fuck?? I grabbed a gray one and then went to my room to lie down. Except I couldn’t because I was in so much fucking pain. My mother was making dinner. She called saying it was ready. I hadn’t had anything since the Danish at Starbucks so I was starving as well as in withdrawal. I felt really weak. I went back downstairs and told my mother if I pass out, I pass out (after telling her why, which she didn’t hear me because she never does so I had to tell her again).

I was more exhausted after I ate. I tried to nap but damn ankle/foot was not having it. I am so done with today. My suicidal planning has been in high gear today. I figure I could go to a hotel and be dead. Probably be better than the outdoors where a kid could find me. Thing that sucks is that I don’t think I can get my pension like I was hoping. That is my only snag. I am so pissed at this.

My mother told me my pedophile cousin is coming over the house tomorrow morning so I will be leaving and be out of the house for most of the day as I don’t want ANY interaction with him at all. Maybe it will give me the push I need to write some. Just hope my pain isn’t horrible that I can’t leave the house. Even if it is, I don’t fricken care. I can’t be in the same house as him. He makes me sick. And the protection he has from my family and others is pathetic.