Tag: mental illness

Daily Word Prompt-Tiny

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

Daily Word Prompt-Tiny

Today’s Daily Word Prompt is Tiny. I have been thinking of what to write for this. This is a side of me that I am embarrassed to share so please bare with me.

For the longest time, I felt like I was a tiny person. I know my outward appearance is nothing but tiny, especially since I have gained significant weight over the last twenty years. But inside, I felt small, like I didn’t matter because I was so tiny. I don’t know when this happened and I certainly don’t know when that has changed.

I remember when I was in therapy in the early years with my current therapist, I wanted to explain to her how small I felt inside, that I didn’t matter because I wasn’t big enough to handle things. We never did talk about it because I was afraid she would laugh at me or give me some other condescending talk. I never felt valued, that I was disposable. I still sort of feel this way at times, especially when my family wants to just dispose of my things that I cherish because they think it is “junk”. My middle sister often calls me a hoarder, though I am not. I just have clothes and papers everywhere because I have no place to put them or I am too lazy to actually put them somewhere other than the floor of my room.

If anything, I am a hoarder of books and research articles/journals. But being called that makes me shrink. It makes me feel alone and not being able to talk to my family about what is troubling me. Hell, my youngest sister thinks all I need is a clean rug to make me feel better. WTF. I do have a collection of boxes from Amazon. I don’t know how it accumulated. I have been lazy to put them in the recycle bin. Even though they are near my door, I never grab them as I am leaving to throw them away. It’s like I have just one thing on my mind and that is to leave to where I am going, which is usually to catch the bus. Therefore, I can’t be bothered to dump things in the recycle bin. When I do, it’s usually when the bin has been cleared by the recycling people that come and empty it.

It gives me a certain comfort to be surrounded by my things. It might make me feel insignificant, but I feel a kind of comfort in that place. It still makes me feel small, though. It’s like I have these huge piles of things surrounding me and I am in the middle of it. Sometimes it is suffocating because I have so much space to get around but it’s not enough to get by. I feel miniscule when that suffocation hits. It doesn’t happen all the time but it does happen.

The person that most made me feel tiny was my father. He would say things that would make me shrink away. There was no way to stop his abusive ways. For years he would make me feel insignificant and small. Like I was a tiny bug that should be stepped on. That is when he would feel his best and I would feel the worst. When I was older, I realized that whenever I would climb the ladder to get out of the pit I was in, he would take the ladder away and I would fall back into the pit. There was no way out. I guess that is why my suicidality is so strong. I still feel like whenever I am in that pit, I feel hopeless about getting out because someone is going to take away that ladder. It never fails. And you can only fall so many times before you realize why bother getting up one more time. You are after all a tiny thing that doesn’t deserve it.

a depressing blog

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

A depressing blog

***Warning may contain suicidal ideation so if you feel like you are a fucking hero, do not read. I am writing to vent my feelings not ACT on them.***

This morning when I woke up, my hip was in awful pain. I figured it was because of the way I slept and took a pain pill. Then I went back to sleep only to wake up a few hours later to my med alarm beeping. I had to take my blood pressure medication, which I didn’t take yesterday because I woke up too late. I couldn’t miss two days in a row so I got up gingerly. My hip and ankle fought me in protest. Happy Monday to me.

I have been in a dark mood. My mood is low, only made lower because a couple of friends of mine hit the guilt button today. I made a cake and they wanted some. Problem is they are on the Cape and I am not. How I was to get them my cake was the problem. So it got eaten and they got mad. I greedily had the cake for breakfast as I made my coffee. There is one slice left, which I will have for dessert or lunch. I haven’t decided. I don’t even care if I eat real food today. I am in a rotten mood.

One of my bloggers, who I love, commented on a password protected blog. I know she means well and all but it got me angry. I wasn’t angry at her, but myself. I have failed myself, some how some way and the only way to rectify this is to end my life. Then I was going through Twitter as I am sorting through this anger I am feeling, and lo and behold a psych article is published saying placebo pills help pain when the person knowingly knows this. WTF. You mean to tell me I need to take a sugar pill for my pain? Hold the phone. I will take the last week of my birth control pills (those are sugar pills) and see if they help the intractable pain that I feel every fucking night. Fucking idiots. I wish it was that fucking simple.

This study enraged me to no end. It’s just the fuel that the idiotic DEA and senators need to stop manufacturing life saving opioid medication to those in need. Here just take a sugar pill and you will be fine. I really don’t want to be around when that shit hits the fan. This further exasperates the idea that the pain is all in your head mentality. Even as we speak my ankle is throbbing pretty darn good. It must be in my head that is making it that way after all this time. After all, there is nothing structurally wrong with my ankle. It’s picture perfect, minus a little swelling here or there. And I need to live for this bullshit? For what? Why must I endure more pain and agony every day/night? I will try the sugar pill experiment and let you know how it goes, though.

My mother called a little while ago. She wanted to know if I was going out. No, I am not going out. Why she asked. I didn’t have the time or patience to tell her that I am in a rotten mood and that my colon might explode after all the stuff I had to take to go to the bathroom. That I felt like killing myself and that I just want to be left alone. That my ankle and hip were competing in pain and they haven’t decided which one was going to win today. So I just said because I am not going out in my irritated voice. She got off the phone.

And now the tears have started for whatever reason. I just feel so damn rotten. I know the grief of my father is in there somewhere. I woke up with him on my mind this morning. I still find it strange that I haven’t heard from him and then I realize why and it hurts. Doesn’t help that I painfully went through my April blogs documenting his death as well as my horrible depression that I am still in. I might not have the physical symptoms of depression anymore but I still have the mental. I don’t think I am ever going to recover from this episode. It has gone on for far too long. Just another nail in my coffin.

I had texted my therapist at noon asking for a session if it was possible. I got no response so I just texted her saying forget it, I will just deal with her tomorrow. I get to see her in person and give her my cake that I made over the weekend. I will be getting a Zipcar to see her. This will make the third week in a row that I have seen her on a Tuesday. I just hope my hip is better by tomorrow and I can walk without pain. It will suck if I have to cancel the reservation. I have decided to have her fill out the paperwork for my LTD as one of my diagnoses for disability is depression. It says physician to be filled out but she is one of my attending clinicians so if they don’t like it too damn bad. My physician doesn’t know me from Adam and I can’t let her fuck this up. It’s too important.

I really wish you could just end your life by wishing for death. It would be so much easier than having to plan your death out, make suicide notes to try and comfort those left behind. To answer the “why” you leave behind. I wish I didn’t cause people pain when I leave but I must leave. I can’t go on suffering mentally and physically anymore. It’s too exhausting. It’s not today or tomorrow. It will be within a month or so, unless the sugar pills help me.

An Hour of Energy

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

An Hour of Energy

I woke up and was feeling good. I made breakfast and coffee and then had some really good energy so I decided to run the errand I wanted to do. That proved harder than I thought because half way to the store, my back acted up, making it hard to walk. It wiped out my energy levels pretty fast. By the time I finished what I had to do in the store, I was wiped out. All of this took less than hour to do. I feel so rotten.

I came home and put my stuff away. I then made it to my bedroom and got undressed. My back and ankle started acting up. Pain med time! I was hoping, as foolishly as that may be, that I would have the energy to bake after my errand. No can do. I will do it on Sunday like I planned. I just hope there is room in the refrigerator for the pan.

I got the letter from the CBT place saying where to go and what floor they were on. I was thinking about this when I go a trial run and then it hit me that I could go to my favorite restaurant at Government Center. They have the Asgard burger that is wicked good. It’s an Irish place and I have been there a few times. I really like going there, when I am in the area. I also will be taking pics of the new station so I can show you. It’s really cool.

I just bought a book about managing chronic pain through CBT. I wanted to know what I was getting into before I go to this appointment. I flipped through the book, which isn’t that thick, and I am cringing on the exercises. One of them asks what increases/decreases your pain. That is a hard one because I sometimes don’t know what increases or decreases my pain because it is all over the place. What makes it hurt today, won’t make it hurt tomorrow and vice versa. It’s really challenging because even on days I don’t do anything but sleep, I will have severe pain at night. Or I could be walking all over the place, feeling good, no pain and have a good night of no pain. Then the next day I am in agony for the next few days. The worse is when I wake up in pain. That blows the day and it’s hard to get moving. Other times, I could be having no pain and all of a sudden my ankle decides not to work anymore and gives me severe pain if I do try and use it. So it’s not a clear cut answer. And even if I rest and take meds, that is mostly all I can do for my pain. Nothing else helps decrease it. But in the meantime, I am withering in agony until the pain meds kick in.

Then they had a section where you wrote down automatic thoughts. My automatic thoughts when I am withering in agony is to kill myself. Some of the thoughts they had in the book was “the pain will kill me”. I had to say yes, but I will help it do so. Just give it a nudge with some bottle of pills and hope it’s enough to do the job.

Seeing as I am cooped up for the rest of the day, I will start reading it today and see how it goes. I have never been a fan of CBT but I am willing to try and put aside my pessimism and sarcasm to see if this will help me. It is my last hope before I finally throw in the towel. I have exhausted other treatments and nothing has seemed to help. I know there are other pain meds I could try but I really don’t want to be playing with narcotics when there are opioid nuts fighting against ALL of them being “bad” for everyone, including chronic pain patients. Hell, with every script that I get with my pain meds, I get a handout of what to do if I am misusing my meds. It’s a joke. I know the addiction problem is real. But without these meds, you might as well sign my death certificate.

I am really depressed my little errand took out most of my energy and now I am cooped up. I was feeling really good while I was making breakfast. I don’t know what happened. Granted, I didn’t make anything extravagant. Just bacon, toast, and coffee. How hard is that?

Psychache Unreal

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

Psychache unreal

I was listening to a few of my favorite songs and then psychache hit. Psychache is the emotional pain that you feel when basically every thing sucks. I was thinking about my father, the Sox, and other stuff and the psychache just became unbearable. I feel like I should take something for it but there is nothing for me to take. Pain meds, even Tylenol, are useless. Doesn’t help that my ankle is throbbing. Nothing like it was last night but I just noticed that it’s swollen and painful. Not a good sign.

I hate when my heart feels like it is being torn apart. It’s the worse feeling in the world. I had a temporary break when some things on Twitter and Facebook made me laugh. One was about a great dane that was trying to escape his house through his skylight. The picture was really funny. The second one was about Pavlov. It was a psych joke that really had me busting out laughing. I don’t remember how the joke went. I am never good at remembering jokes. I usually tell them in the wrong order.

I don’t really know why I am hurting so badly. Sure the sox season is over and I am still grieving for my father. I just feel like that has been old news for a while and why should it be bothering me tonight? I have been thinking of suicide again. While I was typing up my previous blog, I read about the treatment for BDD (body dysmorphic disorder). The article said that CBT is effective in treatment in most patients. Great. Another thing for me to have CBT. There is a book on it but I don’t plan on getting it because I just ordered one for managing chronic pain. I will have three books on CBT, all on various conditions. I don’t really believe I have BDD. Maybe some symptoms of it but not the full disorder. One of the examples they gave was about a person who felt there nose was crooked and people were staring at them. I don’t feel that way. I just think I am ugly and every body knows this. They know I am fat because I am definitely not skinny by any means.

Growing up, I was always compared to my cousins who were thin. They always said to me, why don’t you be like so and so. I couldn’t because my father kept calling me fat so I felt like I had a reputation and permission to be fat. I couldn’t let him down. And because he called me ugly all the time, I just assumed every body else thought so too because he was my world.

I had a surprise when I came home today. I found out I had leaked urine in my pants. I stunk really bad. I was so embarrassed. I changed and felt immediately down. I guess my mood has been sinking since then. It’s so tough because I never know when I am full and lately between all the meds I have been taking, it’s been hard to pee some times or know when I am full. Plus I haven’t been drinking too much so that just makes things harder and stinkyer. It’s because of my nerve injury that I don’t have a sense of my bladder like I used to. I lost it back when I got it the second time around 10 years ago. I always feel a loss of dignity when this happens. You would think that after 10 years I would be used to it by now but I am not. It still hurts my pride. It makes me feel ashamed. It really sucks.