Tag: mental pain

therapy disaster

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

Therapy disaster

I had therapy this afternoon. I’m still quite upset about it. I wasn’t sure how it was going to go. I was hoping for the best but it didn’t work out. All I did was cry at the realization that we were going to at some point, terminate. She couldn’t say the word and I couldn’t think of it. She still wanted to be some kind of adjunctive therapy just so she could have her fix of me, to keep her in the loop of what is going on and such.

All the while I kept thinking, why is this happening? I asked her why we couldn’t do weekly sessions and she said she’d just go back to her “old ways”. I don’t care if it meant having someone to talk to regularly. Right now I have NO ONE! And it’s not a good place to be in.

Then I thought fuck it. I plan on ending my life soon and then who the fuck gives a shit about her. I have no crisis response plan in place because she isn’t my therapist anymore. I only have my psychiatrist. I had emailed her about what happened and she asked me if she plans on calling future therapists. I don’t care and went off a tirade of basically fuck this and that. I don’t fucking care anymore. It’s done. It’s over. I don’t want to see her anymore and I am not. I will have one last session with the bozo (therapist) and that will be that. Her schedule will be too damn packed to see me again so I don’t have to worry about another damn session.

I cried for about an hour after session and still the tears are flowing. I have been trying to control them but it makes me so damn sad. My therapist told me she still loves me and cares about me. I think that just made things worse. I know she was crying during the session, too. I was so choked with emotion, I could barely talk. And when I did talk, I was choking back tears trying to be heard. I kept on trying to think of what it was my psychiatrist wanted to ask her but my mind went blank. I did ask her about the blogs and she said it was important that I wrote and shared them. Yea, so important that it broke us up.

I don’t know where I am heading with this, if it’s going anywhere. I am really depressed. Nothing I wanted to do today got done. I was just a lazy bastard. If I take a shower tonight, that will be a miracle. If not, my psychiatrist will have to deal with my stink when I see her tomorrow. I am sure she smelled worse though.

Incompetence and needs: A story of transference

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

Incompetence and needs: A story of transference

My therapist read my Thanksgiving Eve blog and was basically horrified to find that she is inadequate for my needs. She wanted me, again, to see another therapist that was local as seeing someone in person on a regular basis might be more helpful to me. I nixed the idea because I don’t want to start over with someone new. She said it would be more as an adjunctive way. I don’t give a fuck, I am not setting out to see a new therapist. Then she brought up the whole CBT therapist idea. Nixed that too.

It got me thinking about what I need from my therapist. Frankly I don’t know. We have been struggling with my suicidality for so long that it just goes on without a resolution. It got me thinking about the CAMS philosophy and frankly, even though my therapist has been collaborative, she really hasn’t been. She acts more like a friend than a therapist at times. It has been driving me crazy since she took up the majority of the session with her guilt talk, whether it was directed towards me or her, I am not sure. She feels like she is failing me. Hence her incompetence.

There is more to solving suicidality than filling out the SSF forms. Again she brought up if she only knew how to get me to “open up” and write the answers she needs on the stupid forms, she will feel better. But that is not how it works. The SSF just provides you with problems that need solving so that you don’t end your life. The therapist and client are to work together to solve these issues so that life becomes more tolerable rather than intolerable, a “life worth living”. I’m never going to reach that stage of treatment because maybe I am too stubborn to give up my suicidality long enough to find a life worth living. I just go about my daily business of drinking coffee, writing this blog, taking care of my family and then dealing with a stupid therapist twice a week that drives me absolutely fucking insane with her idiocy.

Maybe we have been together too long and can’t see the forest for the trees. We are wrapped up in something and our path has gone so far astray that we just can meet anymore eye to eye. Maybe we are too close because my heart was really breaking today while she was droning on and on about seeing another therapist and how she was basically failing me. Yes, she is a pain in the ass. She is an idiot, but who isn’t really? I texted her that tomorrow will be our last session. I seriously doubt she will take me seriously. I don’t even know what no therapy will look like. I don’t want to know but what else can I do? Go on with a therapist that hates me on some level for calling her out?

Usually you bring up stuff and it gets dealt with and then you move on from it somehow, someway. A few years ago, we were at this impasse. The same issues were covered today. They haven’t moved on because they haven’t been dealt with. I know what needs to be done but I am just too much of a chicken shit. And there we have the needs piece again. I could list them and they would have NOTHING to do with the list from Shneidman. But I feel insecure and my therapist, even though she won’t admit it, does too. That was evident today and it was killing me inside. It broke my heart.

I know I have called my therapist a lot of names in this blog today, but I still believe she is right for me because we have a connection. Granted right now, that connection is a little frail but we are still tethered. The last time we talk about this, we went over Shneidman’s needs. He had 20 of them and I think I boiled them down to less than 10 that affected me, because part of his theory was that frustrated needs causes suicidal thinking. A lot has happened to me this year, more than any other year to date. Problem is that we just talk about shit in circles and we just go around and around because we are just on this merry-go-round that doesn’t have a stop.

People go to therapy for different reasons. I have a whole slew of them that are basically being neglected and possibly fueling my suicidality. I could list them but if you read my blog or my tweets every day you can probably figure out what the major ones are. I know my therapist can’t do shit about my physical pain, neither can my psychiatrist. I have trauma history, a death in my family that still hasn’t been quite dealt with, PTSD that I don’t think is managed, etc. just to name a few. I read blogs from fellow friends that suffer the same kinds of things that I struggle with yet they are dealing with differently. One of my blog friends has severe PTSD and has anxiety that tears her apart at times. My anxiety, though not a principle symptom, has becoming more of a problem lately because of my damn pain syndrome. It drives me to suicidal thinking. And there is no cut off valve when that level has been reached. So far I have managed but I still plan and strategize my suicidal plan because it comforts me to know I have a way out. I still don’t know what is going to happen this week. I know I have put off my plan but it’s back on again because, why the hell not if my therapist is pulling away from me, even though she says she is not.

In my head, I think I have spoiled my therapist. I bring her treats and indulge in her fantasy that I won’t kill myself. Maybe we both are trapped in that fantasy because I am still here either way you look at it. I have tried to bring her the reality my death will bring and even tried to say if I die, here is the help you need to find. I once brought her an article about it that she refused to read. She doesn’t think I will kill myself. Maybe that is what is keeping me going but it is also draining me to keep up this front week after week. I want to die very badly, to get away from myself because there are so many things I can’t stand about me. Being in pain every single day and night is also taxing me. Knowing the fact that my pain syndrome has changed course on me hasn’t helped matters. All I can do is what the voices tell me to do at the end of the day. So far I have ignored them, but one of these days, I will give in and things will finally be at peace. For me anyways.

Lost in the Echo

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

Lost in the Echo

Well, my pain has intensified. The pain meds have helped but the physical pain has been replaced by neuropathic pain. I can’t win today. It’s way too early to take my night meds. I can take my Neurontin and hope to stop the burning pain that I am feeling. I don’t care if it makes me dopey. I got no where I need to be tonight. I just need to be extra careful if I should go back downstairs to use the bathroom or to eat something, should I get hungry.

I emailed my psychiatrist because I was feeling horrible. I was going to page her but then I started crying and would be inaudible as I have this mother of a cold. I was feeling better with it until I started crying. Now my nose is clogged up. I really hate being sick, but fortunately, I know it will pass. Unlike my damn foot pain. I told my psych I wanted to remove the offending metatarsals. But they are the major structures in the foot and it would be severely hard to walk without them. At this point, I don’t really fucking care. I just want the pain to stop.

I texted my therapist on what my plan was. I didn’t tell her it was off the table because the way I feel right now, I could do it and hope to choke on the pills before they try to kill me. Terrible way to die but at least it would accomplish the goal. I am a miserable fuck right now so please don’t judge me on these wild ideas. I am trying to distract myself with music and writing this blog while I still can before I succumb to sleep. Least I hope I will. Sometimes my meds knock me out and other times they keep me up. I never know what it is going to be. And it sucks. Usually during the day my meds make me tired and during the evening, they make me hyper. No rhyme or reason for this. It is just the way it works. I really think PTSD keeps me from sleeping at night because I get so racked up in anxiety it prevents the meds from making me drowsy.

I would have my therapist call me but that sometimes proves difficult as she has a busy schedule. I talk with the idiot tomorrow anyways. I am sure it’s going to be “fun”. I don’t know if she read the last couple of blogs I sent her. I hope she did because I think they are important and she always wants to know what is up. If she hasn’t read them, I give up. I don’t know why I bother sometimes. Lately, my blogs haven’t been long, winded ones so I don’t understand why she can’t read it. Then she’ll want me to read it to her and I torture her by saying no. My revenge.

I thought of writing something for my book. The Daily Word Prompts have given me some starting points but unfortunately, I don’t have my writing pad on my bed. I have been meaning to get it but not today. And it’s not risk extra pain to get it. Writing on a notepad helps me better than writing on a word doc. I don’t know why that is. I think it’s because I don’t get annoyed if I spell something wrong and have a red line under it. It stops the word flow because I have to change/fix it. Least after I have written something on my pad and then I am typing it up (providing I can read my handwriting clearly) I can edit or make changes as I go. Usually in a word doc, I don’t do that until I read it months later. Drives me crazy.

I feel like I am being punished by being in chronic pain. For what exactly, I haven’t figured that out yet. It could be all my swearing, not going to church, despising my father on his death bed. You name it. Being transgender. I read today the horrors of how homosexuals have been treated in the past and continue to be in certain countries. It makes me so sad yet so suicidal. I feel like I can never be who I am meant to be because of fear of not only being discriminated against but also be tortured for it.

I had ordered a DVD and it was supposed to be delivered today but there is some kind of delay. It’s a bummer because I really wanted to watch it. Now I think I will watch “It’s a Wonderful Life” and break my tradition of just watching it near Christmas. There are a few movies that I have to watch around Christmas. The Grinch (cartoon version), A Christmas Carol, Home Alone, and It’s a Wonderful Life. I still would love to own the version of the Christmas Carol with Patrick Stewart. I haven’t been able to find it, yet. Not like I have looked really hard. Maybe I will get it as a birthday gift if I make it through the holidays without a hospitalization. I feel like going back to Netflix so I can watch some Friends shows. I canceled the subscription because I wasn’t on it all the time and I couldn’t justify one night a month watching it for the price. I rather read a book than watch a TV show or movie. Hence why I have so many damn books to read.

Which reminds me, I still have 7 books I need to read by the end of Dec. I’d read now but I am kind of dopey and my concentration is lax because of the medication. I really should try and sleep but I know if I do, I will be up all night and that won’t be good. Then I will be sleeping all day tomorrow. It won’t make for a good therapy session. I have 3 books I am actively reading. I just go from one to another each day, but I haven’t touched Dostoevsky since Sept I think. The book was annoying me because it just talks without going anywhere. I don’t know when I am going to finish it, but it certainly won’t be within the next month. There are too many chapters to read. The other books I am reading are interesting but my concentration varies. I try to read at least 2 chapters instead of one but it’s getting difficult with my pain being so damn painful. It makes me just want to hide under the covers and not do much else. Or just read Twitter or Facebook. Then I am really doing nothing. I feel bad about not reading because I have a shitload of time on my hands so it’s not like I don’t have time. It’s just getting to it that is the hard part.