Tag: mental pain

2019May09 Fearing the Worst

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

2019May09 fearing the worst

I have been having pain (yes, once again) and it has brought out the suicidal feelings once again. I had this insane idea to take a pic of the means I want to use and send it to my psychiatrist. Lately, (or maybe fortunately) I have been holding off on sending her an email unless I think it through. I thought of the consequences and it would be a huge deal and almost certainly, cause me to be in the hospital. I held off after talking with a friend on Twitter. We instead talked about other things while my heart was feeling like it was being stabbed a thousand times. She told me about her boyfriend wasn’t going to get back with her and I felt immensely sad for her. She and I had been hoping they would get back together again but I guess it isn’t meant to be.

I fell asleep for an hour and woke up with my elbow hurting. I somehow had fallen asleep in the nook of my arm and my elbow didn’t like it. My friend had sent me a message again and we talked. I felt so messed up still. Her meds kicked and she wished me good night. I was left with my thoughts. I again thought about sending her the pic of the means. Instead, I wrote to her about the struggle I am having and also sent her a pic of the cubic model of suicide. I told her where I was on the scale. I told her the father of suicidology, Dr. Edwin Shneidman, had never really written on chronic suicidality and what to do about it. He just wanted to decrease the psychache and you decrease the suicide. I told her this and also that there is no anodyne to help with the psychache. I have no idea if she will understand all this. I told her I probably need to go in the hospital but my sisters are going away for a few days and if I go in, my mother will be left alone, which would not be a good thing. My nephew will be here but he wouldn’t know what to do if her sugar went low. He has never seen her when her sugar is low and I am sort of protecting him from that. As much as I hate this woman right now, a low sugar and the other potential that could happen would make me so fricken guilty I wouldn’t be able to stand it. Yet here I am wanting to fucking die…jesus I am messed up.

In sort of closing I told her I wanted to push her away so she doesn’t see me like this. I hate having her see me like this. I don’t recall a time when I have been like this for so damn long, well sort of. I was like this 25 years ago, a few months after I graduated high school. Unfortunately then, she was on maternity leave and when she was back, I was in the hospital for a long stay. I fear that once she reads the email, I will be asked to go to the hospital anyways, even though I explained the situation with my sisters not being available. I told her I don’t know if I can hang on till then. I also fear that she won’t give a shit and just hospitalize me involuntarily if I don’t go in voluntarily. Either way I will be sectioned. If I do go in, I hope that it is on the unit I am familiar with. If I do end up there, I hope I don’t have the “team” I had a couple years ago. They are the worst team ever and don’t help you at all. They dance around like they are but once they ignore the can you help me with this and be told we will deal with it tomorrow but it never does; then they ask when would I like to be discharged and I say okay tomorrow. Fuck you too. Nothing gets done there but it will possibly give me some space away from home enough to gather myself up so I can bear living in this hell hole.

I checked my blocked text messages tonight and found that my ex texted me Apr 30 asking for me to send her my books. She was in the hospital after a suicide attempt for 3 weeks and someone stole them. Yeah, okay. Like she can’t go to Amazon and get them or a bookstore? I mean really! I know she just wants to get back in my life in some way shape or form but it isn’t happening this time. I am done with her. She broke my heart long ago and she can’t mend it. Part of me wants to respond but I know if I do, it would be a huge mistake.

I had emailed the social worker the beginning of the week to find out about therapy. I still haven’t heard from her. It would be nice to talk to someone as I feel like such a burden to my psych right now with my craziness. I hope to hear from her sometime today. It is 415 right now so I think I am going to try and go back to sleep.

2019May08

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

2019May08

I have been in a bad suicidal mood since last night. I honestly have no idea how I survived it. I asked my psych if I could call her today and she obliged. I wanted to tell her how things really were but I couldn’t bring myself to. I just sent her an email. I hope that she doesn’t call me. I don’t want to verbalize this because it will seem more real than it is right now.

I am listening to Peter Pan by Kelsea Ballerini. I figure I will take advantage of listening to music before I get sensory overload. I am in a lot of pain all because I took a shower. I woke up in pain and taking a shower just exasperated it. I am getting sleepy from meds so will write more tomorrow.

2019May06 Monday Blues

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

2019May06 Monday Blues

I didn’t sleep well last night. I fell asleep around 0330 and then woke up either every hour or every two. I finally gave up around noon, which by then I had pissed off two people. So ya, my day is going great and I feel frustrated and sad on top of my suicidal self. Now I just got two emails from my doctor’s office saying they approved and denied my medication request for renewal. I called the office and the new coordinator said she will have him get back to me.

Before I went to bed at 330, I emailed my psych saying that although I appreciate the close contact I have with her concerning my suicidality, I am okay and I don’t want to call her. She writes back that I “run the show!” Now sure what that is supposed to me. I don’t know if she is upset with me or not. I told her I will see her Friday and that I will call if something urgent comes up. I feel like an asshole and I don’t know why. I really am not okay and maybe she knows that but is going with it because I said so. I don’t know. I am still having suicidal thoughts that are overwhelming and the feelings that go with it are getting to be too much for me to handle. I am still contained, as the hospital would say.

I wanted to go out today but because I didn’t have a good sleep, I decided not to. I made coffee at home as I needed it. I just had one cup. My face is still feeling smooth so I didn’t shave. I just washed my face and brushed my teeth. I forgot to do it yesterday. Sometimes I can remember and sometimes I just don’t feel like it. It is hard doing ADLs some days.

It’s a nice day. While I was in the kitchen, I opened the back door to let some air in the house. I want to open my bedroom window but it will take some doing as I probably will cause an avalanche. I have no idea how I accumulated shit there. It was cleared off when my brother in law took out the window sometime in October. I am going to try and clean out my hamper that is just a holding bin right now. I got a set of fleece sheets in there. I think I will wash them so I can put them on my bed when I clear off my bed to change them. I can’t go overboard today because I have PT tomorrow. If I do too much today, I am going to have a flare Wednesday and that won’t be good. I really don’t want to have another suicidal flare. I think it will send me off the edge.

I got such a heavy heart today and I don’t know why. It has been this way past four days now. It is a mix of anguish and despair. I feel hopeless that things will get better. I feel like I am going to feel this way forever. Part of me knows this isn’t true but it has been going on for months now and seems to just be getting worse. I am seriously thinking of going back on an antidepressant but every time I think about it, I think of the side effects and I just don’t want to deal. The one my psych wants to put me on has nausea as the most prominent side effect. Nearly everyone I know that has been on it has gotten sick the first week of starting it. I am not sure I can last a week of feeling nauseous all the time. I do have Zofran to help with it, if need be but I don’t want to be taking a med to counteract the other med. I did that with the other antipsychotic I was on. I don’t want to do it again. It is a trial and error. It could not have any effect on me.

Since getting up, I have been thinking of going in the hospital. I have been ambivalent about going in. I am weighing the pros and cons, which right now, it is mostly cons, starting with at least a 12 hour stay in the emergency room waiting for a bed. I most like will have to change into their clothes, which is like scrubs. The hard part is trying to leave the house without someone noticing I am leaving with my backpack and duffle bag. Probably the only way is to leave the house really early in the morning before my sisters leave for work. I just have to remember to grab my journal in my every day backpack. I feel like I should bring my power cords just in case I don’t go to the hospital I prefer.

Doesn’t look like I will be doing anything today as I need to take a nap. Maybe later in the evening I will when I can’t sleep. God I feel so horrible. Maybe some sleep will make me feel better.

midnight demon writes again

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

Midnight demon writes again

It is about half past midnight. I just had something to eat. I tried making myself a deep dish pizza for dinner and burned it pretty bad that it was hard as a rock. I lost my appetite and so haven’t had much to eat today. I knew if I didn’t eat, I wouldn’t be able to sleep. But turns out, pain is keeping me up anyways.

The part of my leg that is swollen has gotten bigger. The day before it was the size of my palm. Now it is the size of my hand. It for some reason, became really painful after I had stood for a while to clear out one of the shelves of my bookcase. I went on my bed to relax my back as it had started to spasm. Next thing I know my lower leg down to my foot was in such intense pain, I couldn’t breathe. I started to have an anxiety attack. I couldn’t touch my leg where it was hurting and that was a bad sign to me that made me panic even more. I just lay there trying to collect myself and grab the pain bottle to take a pill. I think that was harder as I had to move to do so. Half hour later, pain was starting to subside enough I could touch my leg and that is when I notice the swelling had spread up my leg. If I was panicked then, I was more so now. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t stand and walk anywhere as the pain was so great. Even an hour later when I had to pee it was painful going down the stairs and using the bathroom. I had talked to my niece and lost my voice. I sounded like a goddamn squirrel. No idea why. No matter how many times I cleared my throat, it sounded off. Fucking puberty.

Anyway, I talked to a Twitter friend and she wanted me to go to the ER. I texted my sister, but she wasn’t home. Fuck. There goes my ride. I wasn’t about to take the T anywhere. I took an Ativan and once that kicked in to take my anxiety away, I calmed down a bit. I also emailed my psych to let her know what was going on. I decided to try some diclofenac gel to try and ease whatever inflammation there was and see if it helped the pain. As I was ready to apply it, my psych emailed me back to keep her posted and let her know if I go to the ER. I am hoping I don’t have to because it is Easter and I will have a super long wait for something that really isn’t an emergency. I don’t have redness or broken skin oozing fluid. I just have a painful lump on my leg. I see my PCP Tues and I hope I can hold off on ER visits until then. I started thinking about this. The pain was similar to what I was experiencing prior to my dismissal from work, basically telling me I was disabled and couldn’t work. The time off gave my leg some much needed rest time. I have been walking more than I have been the past few weeks, as well as standing longer than I usually do. I also have been trying to do some balance work my PT wants me to do, which means putting some weight on my left leg. I have no idea if that aggravated the tendon that gets inflamed when I walk too much because I am compensating. I knew if I went to the ER or even an urgent care center, odds were they would just refer me to my pcp for whatever. They might do x-rays and an ultrasound to rule out a blood clot in my leg (highly unlikely) but that would be it. And the ultrasound would be on my calf, not the area where the swelling is so not useful at all. I am sure my pcp is not going to be able to figure it out and I hope that the weight loss/loss of appetite and this swelling is not related.

So the leg pain finally subsided after the diclofenac but then my veins started popping and my foot felt like it was being crushed so I was, once again, in a flare. This is day 2. My thoughts immediately went to why the fuck am I still alive. Then I think of what my psych said and I fucking hate her. Hate her because she wants me to live and she is fond of me. I looked straight at her when she told me this so I know she wasn’t bullshitting me. She genuinely meant what she said. I don’t think that I am meant to do something great. Yes, I could write another book. But goddamn it, I am not a fucking writer. Yes, I write blogs. But that is what I do because it helps me and possibly others. I know I don’t get as much feedback as I once did but fuck, my stats tell me someone reads my blog every day, even if only 8 people do.

Pain has been my nemesis. It causes me to be suicidal in an instant. Then in the morning, I am usually okay and feel better and am no longer want to end my life. But I am not at that stage right now. I am in the suicidal moment where I want to do what I want to do to end things. Except I can’t. As much as I have this fucking deep surging urge to do it, I do not want a family member to find me in that state. It is the only fucking thing keeping me alive at this time. Sure my family pisses me the fuck off so I wouldn’t care if they found me. But something, and I don’t know what, keeps me from acting on my urges. I can think about them all I want, fantasize all I want but when it comes to times like this, I am so fucking on the edge of live/die that I just get so frustrated that I don’t do fucking shit. I just ponder some more. Fantasize some more. Then I am reading a book about wills and realize I didn’t sign and date it to make it official. FUCK! I don’t remember where I put the notepad I wrote the fucking thing on. This is pure agony. The mental agony of going through living vs dying and being in so much fucking pain you want to end your life. This is the life of the midnight demon. Always until the urge to act prevails.