Tag: mental illness

bubbles, torments, and suicide

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

Bubble, Torments, and Suicide

I don’t think I am going to get to sleep tonight. I am in severe pain again. I wish I could fall asleep like my body wants me to but my head and pain are keeping that from happening. I am not only in physical pain, but I am also in emotional pain. I have that darkness in my chest again and it’s weighing on me severely. It’s making things hard to see clearly. Everything is dark. I am again thinking of taking my life because of this darkness. I can see no other way through it, this time.
I have been taking my pain meds around the clock the last several days in an effort to control the physical pain. It works but soon as it wears off, I need to take another dose. Such it is with short acting medicines. I rather be on short acting ones than longer dose ones, though. I have been on long acting ones and frankly they messed me up more psychologically than my mental illness. I vowed never to go through that bullshit again. I will continue to take the short acting medicine because it is what I am used to and doesn’t hold that many side effects like it once did. I am used to it now.
Because it’s so late at night, the midnight demons have come out. I am again thinking of ending my life because that is what I think about at this hour. I can’t sleep because of pain, pain that the medicine can’t touch. The pain is called psychache, or emotional, psychological pain. There is no remedy for this pain. And it sucks. So, suicide becomes the method of choice to alleviate this pain. It doesn’t mean that I will act on it tonight. Far from it. Just thinking about ending my life and imagining about going through with it is enough to soothe the demons. You might think that is a crazy notion, but it’s true, least for me it is. I find that imagining my death is soothing. I don’t know why. I guess it is because it helps to control something I can’t control, like this pain in my chest that won’t go away.
The pain is stubborn. It resists all measures of relief. Love doesn’t help it, neither does someone caring for me. It’s a funny thing to be in this type of constriction when you want to end your life. All you can see is the end point and that is your death. You block out the people that care and love you. It’s like you just enter a world that is just filled with pain and no matter how many times someone says they love you, it just bounces off and you can’t feel it. It torments you because you know you are hurting that person by not reciprocating that love and care. But it’s too much pain you feel and you are locked in this bubble that no one can really touch. You are alone in this world, though people have constantly told you that you are not. It’s all a fallacy.
Psychache has other features that make it so that suicide is constantly on your mind. Perturbation is one. The need to constantly feel something and the need to do something to ease the psychache. And then you have Press. Press is something that is felt deep inside. It’s the inner workings similar to stress but takes on a different meaning. It is what drives the perturbation to new heights and carries the pain to new levels. All three when at a significant standing means suicide is imminent. Dr. Shneidman calls this the suicidal model of suicide. It’s a complicated but simple meaning of these three Ps. But that is for another discussion. I just know right now that my levels of these three Ps are varying like the weather. It is most difficult when my physical pain is increased. Unfortunately, when my physical pain is at it’s worse, I am immobile to do anything to cause my life to end. I keep telling myself, I will do it the following day when my pain is not at its worse. Fortunately, in the morning, I no longer feel that pressing need to end my life so I live to see another day.
Right now I am at that point where the three Ps are pressing on my heart very eagerly. I can hardly breathe, the weight is so strong. I don’t know what to do to make myself feel better. That is why I am writing this stupid blog. I hope that my thoughts get heard and someone can relate to them. I am not in danger, let me make myself clear on that. As much as I wish to die at this very moment, I don’t have a clear plan in doing so. It is the frustrating part of being suicidal. You want to end your life but you do not have the means to do so. It is sad. All I can do is wait until the meds kick in to ease my physical pain and then I will sleep for a few hours until they wear off and I need another dose of meds again. Such is the cycle.

So Close

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

I was hoping to go to sleep before my foot or ankle decided to say hello to me tonight. Nope. Didn’t lie down quick enough. Actually, lying down is actually a kind of trigger. Seems my pain is worse when I lie down versus when I am sitting up. Now my foot is doing a curling thing so I had to take some Ativan to calm the fucker down.

I am tempted to text my therapist or email my psychiatrist to ask if I can have an amputation on my ankle if I can’t kill myself. It’s a long shot but I figure there is no harm asking. While I was lying down before the pain erupted, psychache hit me square in the chest. So now I have both types of pain going on and I am ready to jump off a bridge. It’s a good thing I don’t have a car to get to where I am going. There are no bridges in my area that are high enough to kill me, except the Tobin but it’s a bitch to get to and you do need a car.

I don’t know if I am going to get out of this episode that I am in. I feel like if I don’t go through with it, I am a loser. If I at least attempt it, that will be something. If I fail, at least I can say I tried and then deal with the consequences, horrible though they will be. If I succeed, well then this blog will be all that is left behind. None of this will happen in the next few days so if you are thinking of saving me, you are wasting your time. These are just my thoughts that are running through my head at this particular moment in time.

Pain is causing me so much grief. I feel like I am losing it, not that I actually had things to begin with. The black coat of depression is pressing on me very closely. I have been trying to master the lyrics to the song “Make you miss me” by Sam Hunt. I heard it twice today on the radio and messed up the lyrics. Pissed me off. I wanted to share the lyrics and song with my therapist but I was too afraid she would cry. I did share two songs with her today, Reckless by Martina McBride and Don’t think I don’t think about it by Darius Rucker. It helps me to share music with her. I have a knack for songs finding me when I am hurting or need to express myself.

My Sox lost and I think they are no longer in first place. I am upset. They should have had these games but their offense was dead. There are only 17 games left in the season or that count toward the pennant race. I am so nervous about these games. It’s not helping my mood any.

I seriously want to email my psychiatrist and ask her if she thinks I am going to escape this episode that I am in. I just don’t see a way out. I don’t want to go into the hospital. It won’t help me. I might be fine for a few days to a week but the suicidal stuff always comes back. It’s like a monkey on my back. And the longer I go without an attempt, the stronger it becomes. I haven’t made an attempt in years. I don’t know if I am hopeless. I don’t feel it. I feel nothing but blackness. I just don’t know what is going to keep me connected to this world. I hope the pain meds kick in soon so I can get at least my physical pain will be taken cared of.

Depressed Because Pain Sucks

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

Depressed because pain sucks

I thought I would escape the pain demons tonight but I was wrong. Zaps started a little while ago and now my foot is throbbing uncontrollably. I just took some pain meds, which I was hoping to avoid because most of my day has been pain free. I should have known that around 2300, my pain would increase.

I am deeply depressed. I am thinking of suicide again. It is the only thing that helps me to relax and gives me hope that my pain will end. I know that it will cause others pain by my death, but I just cannot go on living like this. I would say that I am too young to die, but there are kids dying every day because of cancer and other horrible diseases, or by stupid parents that leave them in hot cars.

No one knows what causes my pain. I am terrified of seeing another PCP because I am afraid he or she will not believe my pain because it very rarely happens during the day. I have most of my pain at night, when I don’t have an appointment with a doctor. Even then, I am sure they won’t be able to diagnose what is wrong. This has been going on for more than 4 years now. My quality of life sucks. I vacuumed the rug near my bed because I was tired of little shits of lint and other stuff getting on my bed because my feet track them there (I am barefoot most of the time). Most of it is lint or pebbles or paint chips from the stairs. Where the pebbles come from, I have yet to figure out. I found one on my near my “office”. How it got there is a mystery as I don’t have my feet anywhere near where I found it.

I am thinking of increasing the Zoloft but am afraid to ask my doc about increasing it, only because the stupid “wonderful” system that they have might screw up the dosage change again like it did before or totally delete it once it has been changed. It’s a very fucked up system. Even my pain meds have to be “added” though I have been taking it for years now when I go for a refill. So damn stupid. Yet the stupid system still has the abilify there even though it has been months now that I haven’t been taking it. Go figure that one out. Or rather don’t try. It will give you a brain cramp.

I have noticed the last few months how much my moods and suicidality have been surrounded by my pain. I think my therapist finally got it today after she read the letter that I wrote to her on Aug 24th. She saw how devastating my moods can be when my physical pain is at its highest level. I am in pain tonight but not at a suicidal level, thank goodness. The pain I feel now is just a mild, annoying throbbing due to the electric zaps that I had. These zaps are terrible and can go on forever or just a little while. I never really know but the longer they persist, the deeper the pain levels are once they stop. It’s worse than a severe cramp in my foot.

I should be sleeping now but pain is keeping me up. I have to get up in about 8 hours. I will be lucky to sleep at least 6. I am very tired. My head wants to rest. For the first time in weeks, I don’t have music drilling my head. It’s just playing softly, like background noise. I wonder if my neurologist can figure it out. It will make for an interesting story in my book. A nice short chapter. Most of my chapters in my book are short. I think the longest story is the first one and the rest are 1200 words or less. I am striving for at least 850 words per chapter. It is fun to write. I hope my readers will buy my book once it is published. If they don’t that is okay too. Most of the stories are on my blog anyways, with a few exceptions. So basically, the book is a blog production that is in paperback. It will also be on Kindle for those that have e-readers.

I didn’t think I would finish my book this year. I am getting closer to it. 80 pages shouldn’t take me long, if I keep at it for the rest of the month. Maybe the beginning of October I can start looking for an editor again. My last editor just flew the coop and I have no idea where she went. I have a Twitter buddy that has agreed to work with me. I have no idea how much she will ask but I will pay her around $300. My book isn’t that long (word wise) so it might work out. If she wants more than that, I will have to wait a while to raise the funds. Course that will mean no Amazon spending for the next few months. I miss shopping there and getting “presents” when the orders come in. But sacrifices need to be made. I do have to place one Amazon order my next paycheck as I need my senna and eye drops. Getting them at Walgreens or CVS is just way expensive.

Goofy Therapist

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

Goofy therapist

Today’s therapy session was the goofiest I have had in a long time. I started off by calling her goofy and that was it. She was in hysterics for whatever reason. I told her about the dream I had last night where I could “fly” down stairs and while walking. In the same dream, I was getting away from someone as things had gone bad where I was, hence the reason for my flying. I went to a Starbucks that apparently I frequented so much that they wanted to name a drink after me. I woke up before I learned the name of the drink. I had just gone in there with the intention of getting a chili mocha, which I did have today. It was ok except they must have used non-fat milk which I don’t like. It tasted like a water mocha. Gross.

She was telling me how the sauce that I gave her was now gone and we were talking about food for a while in the midst of her trying to analyze this dream. I guess in the entry I wrote about how I was going to make ham and cheddar biscuits and she said that she needs to eat before we talk because I was making her hungry. Goofball, I am telling you. I didn’t tell her what I had for breakfast because I didn’t want her to drool anymore than she already was.

Also in the session with my therapist, once I was able to get her away from my dream analysis, she kind of understood now why my moods change so rapidly when I am in pain. I had started off with a day letter and then I wrote again around 11 pm (2305 to be precise). I wrote how bad the pain was and how much I wanted to end my life. We briefly talked about how much I wanted to end my life but she didn’t want me to, obviously. I kind of got upset at this, but I didn’t let on about it. There was no point because I would be talking to a wall. She gets why I want to kill myself and can see how my mood can change to radically, but she doesn’t want me to end my life over it. Typical. I wanted to tell her that I already had plans to but I just couldn’t. I really want to see the Frida Kahlo exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts first.

After session, I returned my mother’s phone call. She always calls me during session. EVERY SINGLE TIME. Then she gets mad at me because god forbid I should have someone on the other line. She wanted to know if I was going out and I did tell her I planned to. She has been asking me every single day when am I going to the Square because the Family Dollar Store has soap on sale. I went today and there was no such sale. I bought two packages but didn’t tell my mother I paid the regular price. It was only 0.75 cents more.

While at Starbucks, I got two mochas, my chili mocha and a regular iced mocha. I got two in case I didn’t like the chili one. I didn’t like it so I am glad I had the other one to drink. I typed up my story from the other night. I couldn’t believe it was 21 words short of being 850 words! I was really mad at myself because I kind of left off at a cliffhanger. I couldn’t believe I left off at such an ending. I had wanted to write more but it was nearly 330 in the fucking morning so I went to sleep. I didn’t know I left off with such a dramatic stopping of words. I hate writing at night for this reason because once I lose my train of thought, it’s hard to get back into it. I did that with the “Roots” story I wrote. I had started that at the wee hours of the morning, too. So while I was thinking, I texted my therapist and read Twitter. I didn’t turn on the WiFi at Starbucks because it would be too much of a distraction to me. I could put my phone down, but wouldn’t be able to get off the browsers on my laptop. Then I knew I would get lazy and wouldn’t write anymore. After I bitched about being short on words, I went back to my document and wrote about 100 words. Final word count was 961. It’s still not finished yet so I am sure it will be around 1200 or more by the time I done with it. Using the font Comic Sans, I was able to get 2 and half pages of work done. Not bad. It kind of goes along with my other stories in the book so I hope it flows well.

With these 3 pages or so, I think that will bring my page count up to maybe 118 pages. I really want the book to have 200 pages, at least. This doesn’t include any introduction or preface or any other miscellaneous writing. I haven’t sorted out what that will look like yet, or if I really want to have that. In the memoir that I read last week, it had a page that stated this was a book based on her memories and experiences. I might follow that logic in my writing as I didn’t really take these writings from anywhere but my experiences. It’s sort of like a second memoir book that is just stories about my psychotic experiences and delusional thinking. It seems every psychotic/delusional episode I have is different and wild. Sometimes I write about them in my blog when they are over with. Unfortunately, the current delusion hasn’t passed entirely yet.

While I was taking out my laptop to return to my room, I came across a manila envelope that has my father’s health care proxy paperwork in it. I don’t think I need to be carrying that around anymore. Now it’s in my “office” on my bed. I don’t know what to do with it.

I need to get up early tomorrow to see my Neurologist. I need to take a shower tonight because I doubt there will be time in the morning as I am not a morning person. I basically won’t be watching the Sox game tonight as it’s on late. Game is on the west coast. Tomorrow also marks the anniversary of when I published for the New York Times. I just hope I wake up early enough to make coffee because I won’t be going to the Square until maybe the afternoon, after my appointment.