Tag Archives: mental pain

What I started writing yesterday and stuff I did today

What I started writing yesterday and stuff I did today

So this is what I wrote yesterday:

I am so flipping enraged. Just came from seeing my pcp. He was interested in how I was doing with the med change. Jerk said he was extremely skeptical about opioids helping me at all. Well take this chickenshit, my pain is reduced 50% aside from flares, which nothing seems to help. He was glad he was wrong. But can you imagine the big “I told you so” if I got no relief? I can’t believe the ignorance. Totally dumbfounded and hurt I would left to deal with excruciating pain and nothing to treat it with when there is something to treat it. So anyone who says opioids don’t work for CRPS, THEY ARE FULL OF CRAP!! So I then tell him my back has been acting up due to weather changes. My lumbar spine and sacrum do not want to move. Asked if taking ibuprofen was ok and he says it has risks of heart problems and hypertension. But mostly stomach issues. I should use it sparingly. Why the fuck is this over the counter if it causes so many problems? And doctors prescribe it like candy or more potent NSAIDs like naproxen or diclofenac?? Idiot. I just rolled my eyes. I cannot believe this idiot is practicing medicine at a world class hospital.

Today I find out that he is worried about my sodium levels as they dropped again since the last time I had them checked. He is going to talk to my psychiatrist and has ordered blood and urine tests to rule out what is causing my blood sodium to drop other than medication. I wrote back to him and asked what the tests were (I am a lab geek, after all) and if the PCOS I have might be affecting my pituitary, thus messing up my blood levels. I don’t think I will get an answer tonight as I thought of this around 1900. He did tell me that if I felt ill to go to the urgent care.

I spent most of the day clearing off my bed so I can change my bed sheets. I had to do it in increments because my back kept flaring if I stood longer than 10-15 minutes. Then I couldn’t find my reacher on my bed so finally cleared off nearly everything except my office essentials like my journal, laptop, and book that I am reading. I made pancakes this morning and then had buffalo wings for dinner. I was so sleepy after dinner that I had to lay down. I was hoping to sleep but I couldn’t.

Tomorrow, I will be able to change my sheets. I plan on washing them and my blanket. I have another set of blankets that I will put on. They won’t be as warm as the Red Sox fleece I am using now. I think I am going to put the hospital blanket on and then the Red Sox. That should keep me warm and if I am too warm, I can always take it off. I have to keep my leg warm because the AC might make my foot cold. Plus I get cold and like to get cozy under the blankets at night.

I was feeling really down last night. Pain was elevated and so was my suicidality. I wrote a blog. When I finished it, I sent it off to a couple of suicidologists, including the president of the American Association of Suicidology because something she posted on Twitter bothered me and I had written about it. She tweeted me in the morning and we had a discussion but I could tell she wasn’t getting what I was trying to say. It amazes me that these people want to prevent suicide yet belittle the thoughts of those who actually live with chronic suicide ideation. She had written a study that had showed more than 132 people are affected per suicide. It was dispel the thoughts that Dr. Shneidman had that at least six people were affected. He said this but never studied it. No one knows where he got this number and he is deceased so we will never know. Her study was important. But what the bereaved suicide loss persons don’t realize is that saying loved ones will be hurt and others will be affected, some how guilt trips them into staying when they do not wish to live anymore. I was trying to explain this and we weren’t getting anywhere. Depression already caused excessive amounts of guilt. Add this information and it is overwhelming, which is what I was trying to get at but obviously wasn’t explaining right. She is a very intelligent person but I really think that lived experienced people and others who think of ending their lives might be too painful for her to deal with and so gets offended. I have seen it happen to me one too many times. Yes, it does make you stop and think of who you are hurting when you are thinking of taking your life. But then you (the suicidal person) have to wonder, is my suffering greater than those I love? And if this was a physical, terminal illness like cancer, would they still feel the same?

It just bothers me so much that people who are already suffering from huge amounts of pain, physically and mentally, still go on with their lives because they basically feel trapped. I know I do. I feel trapped by not want to cause pain to my family and friends with my death and the pain I already have that I was so desperately to end. It is tearing me apart some days, especially when the dawn approaches and I no longer have such intense feelings of ending my life. One of the suicidologists was glad I had made it through the night. She was the only one that said that. I am sure the others would have thrown my ass in the hospital if they could. I write a lot about my feelings because I don’t have a lot of support. It is also cathartic for me to write. If I lose this, for whatever reason, I know I will die. I think I even emailed my psychiatrist last night about why am I still around? Why am I still here. And will she let me go? I was half expecting a response or a phone call. I got neither. I see her next week so I know I will talk about it, least I hope to if I am not chickenshit. She sometimes scares me because she has this way about her that when she says something, I have to listen and “follow orders”. I have never not done what she said when she says it in that tone she has. She has known me for a long time. I respect her a lot and she respects me a lot. She looks up a lot to me because I have been through so much.

Next week is going to be difficult as I have a lot going on. But right now, all I care about is changing my sheets and reading Harry Potter as well as keeping track of the Sox. Oh, almost forgot, the blog that I wrote early this morning was chosen by some paper and published on their platform. Pretty cool!

suicidal turmoil

Suicidal turmoil

***note this is just talk. No action. Just expression of feelings of suicide. If this bothers you, do not read***

My mood has been all over the place today. Last night I was feeling really suicidal. I was exhausted after a chat and wanted to sleep but my thoughts wouldn’t let me rest peacefully. I wanted to email my psychiatrist but I couldn’t come up with the words as my exhaustion out ranked my thought process. Eventually, I did find sleep.

I woke up in the middle of the night because of pain. I took my pain meds, made note of the time, and then went back to sleep. I woke up before my med alarm as I had to use the bathroom. I decided to stay up because I knew that if I went back to sleep, I’d feel like shit.

I got hungry and so made breakfast. I then had time to catch the bus, even though it was an hour earlier than I wanted to go to the square. Oh well. I took my time getting dressed. It was cool out so I had to switch things to my jeans from my shorts. I decided to wear a long sleeve T shirt rather than a sweatshirt. I figure it would be light and if I got hot, I could take it off. It was a beautiful day out. My pain was there but it was manageable. I got to Starbucks and had my espresso. Then I got my journal out and started writing as I wanted to keep it updated with what happened with my appt with the pain doc.

As I was writing, my mind kept going to suicidal thoughts. I wanted to write some more about suicide but I didn’t know what to write. It kept forming in my head. I looked in my bag for a notebook or notepad and there wasn’t one. GAH! Seriously??? I had bought a million notebooks and notepads and this bag was “empty”??? Guess I was off to Bob Slate in Harvard Square to get my favorite kind. I wrote down some more things in my journal and then went to get my med scripts before going to Harvard.

I got to Harvard and the place had change. I don’t remember the last time I was there. The newspaper stand had closed and it kind of changed the whole place. There was a new CVS next to the bank, which was also new. It was a jewelry place before. Starbucks was besides it. There was still construction going on in front of the Au Bon Pain. I still have no clue what they are doing. The construction has been going on for a couple years now. I went to Bob’s and got two notebooks. I only needed one but the other one was a composition type and was for quick notes. I thought it was cool so I bought it. I stayed away from the pen aisle but talked with the guy at the pen desk about refills. There are a couple of pens where I want black ink as they have blue ink right now. The lady became insistent that I bring in the pen to make sure I buy the right one. I am not a naïve pen person but thought it a good idea to do so. I asked what the price range for them were and she said $5 and up. I said I would be back. I’ll probably go Friday before my psychiatrist’s appointment.

I started walking down Mass Ave, not sure if I wanted to catch the bus down to my therapist’s office or just walk there. I got to the corner where there were some benches and sat down for a bit to drink some water. My bladder was telling me it had to go so I waited a little more, just taking in the surroundings and nice weather. I miss being in that part of town so much. It was like going down memory lane. I just started walking toward my therapist’s office. It was farther than I thought it was. I kind of figured that as the numbers were higher at Harvard than the other train station I usually get off. That part of Mass Ave had changed a lot. There was an Indian buffet restaurant, a Domino’s, a Dunkin Donuts. It was amazing to see all these new businesses.

By the time I reached my therapist’s office, I had walked off my suicidal writing energy. I went up to the floor and used the bathroom, then sat in the waiting room for an hour. I played on my phone for a bit and then I took out my journal to write some more. I tried to remember what I wanted to write about but nothing was coming to me. The bug had worn off. I wish I could walk off those feeling whenever ever they occurred. It would be a huge help to me but I know that might not always work due to pain.

I told my therapist right away about my suicidality and how my week went. A lot of stuff was stirred up. I forgot how much my PTSD was flared because of what happened in PT and then with the pain that activated the Cauda Equina Syndrome memories and surgeries, relearning to walk, etc. We talked about it and he listened to my suicidal ramblings. He didn’t ask if I was safe, didn’t get me off topic with plans or crisis stuff. He just listened and inputted his thoughts when I had finished. He does want me to see him twice a week just to have someone to talk to. He thinks I am too isolated. I explored it a little bit and I told him that was scary to me. I don’t know why. He playfully said that he shaves down the horns. LOL I told him I would think about it and let him know next week. I told him I would be on the new pain medicine and hope that would calm down flares and help me regain some things that I have lost.

When I got home and was thinking over the session, I wanted to cry. I never had a therapist that listened to my suicidal thoughts, plans, and other stuff before, in detail. I felt good about it and it made me feel better knowing I had someone to talk to about this stuff, the hardest stuff I can possibly talk about. He told me he wouldn’t be able to stop me unless I was telling him right then and there I was going to end my life after I left his office. It is Massachusetts law to protect someone from themselves or others. He didn’t give me an ultimatum, a do this or else scenario. I was appreciative because I never had that before. I never talked about how much I was feeling about suicide because safety was always first and foremost. Then add in a therapist’s anxiety and the whole thoughts about why you are suicidal are lost, never to be spoken about. For 27 years, no one heard me out after I said the “S” word. It was like the why are you suicidal didn’t matter and containment was more important. By then, the session was over and you were more frustrated because you were in this bind where you promised if you were going to act on your feelings, this and that had to happen and if it didn’t, you were on your way to the hospital to be admitted for a few days or more.

This is where suicide prevention gets mucky. You have a suicidal person and instead of listening to what they are going through that is making them think about ending their lives, they need to “prove” they are safe when they walk out that door until the next session with the therapist or psychiatrist. The client/patient may get angry they are being put in a bind and not heard. This has happened my entire suicidal career. Now I have someone that cares about me, wants to listen to me, and knows that if I really want to end my life, there is nothing he can do to really stop me. He is the perfect therapist for me and it is scaring me because I am expecting metaphorical handcuffs on my thoughts but they aren’t coming. I am free to talk about suicide as long as I don’t act on these feelings. It is freeing. It is validating. It is helpful. And I am grateful that I have someone like this.

I don’t know if I can see him twice a week because financially, that will be double the copay a month. Not to say that I will be able to make every session because I can’t always do that. We talked about that too. He understands that I have a chronic health condition that makes going out impossible some days. But he still wants to help me. He isn’t going to slam the door or give me an ultimatum saying I need to see him every week or else, which was what I was fearful about. He is a laid back therapist and I like this. I have to admit that my suicidologist instincts about him not using CAMS or some other EBP was freaking me out. How could I talk to him if he wasn’t going to measure the level of suicidality on a piece of paper? But I realized today, you don’t need that stuff to make suicide prevention/intervention happen. You just *need to talk*.

jump then fall

Jump then fall

Honestly had no idea what to name today’s blog and I am listening to Taylor Swift’s song, Jump then Fall so just chose that as a title.

I read one LONG chapter of Brother’s Karamazov. It was typical Dostoevsky. The chapter had nothing to do with the story. It was about one of the character’s interacting with a hallucination due to his illness. I was just reading to get through it, so I don’t even remember what it was exactly about. I made myself a new goal for the week. That if I finish this book, I will then read the Harry Potter series, again. I can’t help it. I follow a couple of Harry Potter Twitter accounts and they always show quotes from the books/movies and I want to relive it again. I love it so much!

I actually bought another book on the recommendation of Wil Wheaton called All the Birds in The Sky. He said it was good so I will read that along with Harry, if I get that far. I have a lot of things to do this week and my fucking ankle flared up today. I was at my sister’s apartment getting ice. I turned around and almost lost my balance. I didn’t see where my bad foot landed. I went to pick it up to walk to my apartment and it hit the drill that was on the floor. OUCH!!! Instant flare. Fucker. Pain is currently a 12, which is better than it was four hours ago when it happened. I just took a strong pain pills and some dark chocolate to help me feel better. I was talking to my support group friends and told them the chocolate is my “extra strong pain pills.” They wanted to start a post about sweets but were reluctant so I did it. I am not shy, LOL.

My mother said she was going to make spaghetti with my gravy. I was like score! I went downstairs to my sister’s to empty my recycle bin. It was close to overflowing so needed to be emptied. The dinner was ready when I came back upstairs. It wasn’t spaghetti. It was shells. I said so to my mother and she was like, we haven’t had them in a while. UGH. I want spaghetti, not shells!! I ate it anyway. I finished off the last of the meatballs. My mother made the box of the pasta. She can eat it all week.

I filled my med box for the week. I need to take my meds soon. Last night I realized I didn’t take my meds Friday night. I was just so upset over the whole pain doc and pain meds that I just forgot. I thought I did take them but they were still in the box when I took my meds last night. No wonder I had trouble sleeping that night. But my writing bug has been activated. I have been wanting to write all day but kept getting distracted by the internet. Plus the ball game was on so it just didn’t happen. I want to write some more about suicide and getting help, in general. It is not easy seeking help and if you have a past like mine, it is extremely difficult to find another therapist that will take you on. But it is on the mental health professional, not you! If you have a problem with alcohol, it is best to find an addictions counselor rather than a general counselor or therapist. Support groups are invaluable. There are plenty online or even on Facebook. Depends on what you are looking for and how private you want them. Going to a group therapy takes some work. But the peer support work better. People that have alcoholic spouses or parents also can get groups for them that are free. Just need to put a little effort into finding something that works for you. There is a good likelihood that the first person you meet isn’t going to work out for you. It’s like any other relationship. Takes commitment and work. If they don’t work out after 2 or 3 sessions, find someone else or another group. I went through at least three CRPS groups before I found the one I am in. What a difference! The people are friendly and supportive to all members. I also run a support group for CES on Facebook and it is a good group. There are some people that come in with their own agenda, looking for money for themselves or their “cause”. You are going to find that anywhere though. I try not to let those people in because that is no really supportive nor do other members have the money to donate or feel pressure to donate because someone asks. Most are on a fixed budget like me so there might not be extra funds after all bills and meds are paid for the month. I’m fortunate to live with my mother to pay some bills that I couldn’t manage if I lived on my own.

in a hopeless state of mind

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.

random thoughts 07062018

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.