Tag: mental pain

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.

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.

Agitated and Aggravated

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

Agitated and aggravated

I have not been able to settle down since coming home. I feel really agitated and things are unsettled. The voices are loud but they are mumbling so I can’t understand what they are saying so I am frustrated. I have tried listening to some music to calm me down but that hasn’t worked. It just gets me more agitated. I just took some Ativan and some trilafon to try and calm down because I really would like to sleep before my pain shoots off.

I am really annoyed at my therapist. I really didn’t want to have a session with her but she plays this game with me that if I can come up with a good reason, I can skip the session. I never can come up with a good reason as the reason is, I just don’t want to talk with her, which isn’t a good enough reason. I texted her that she might get my voicemail or I might block her call. I am so annoyed. In order to avoid the phone call, I am tempted to get another Zipcar and go out to see her again. Course, if I do have the phone call, I can just put her on mute. I don’t get why this fucking woman drives me insane.

Then the ballgame was a shit show. Price, who is getting paid $30 million, gags in big games so we lost tonight because he gave up the long ball one too many times. That didn’t help my agitation, at all.

Voices are commanding tonight. They want me to pick a bottle and take the whole thing. I hope the trilafon works soon. I hate this uneasiness I am feeling. It’s partly my fault the voices are out of control. I missed my afternoon dose of trilafon because I was driving today. I hate missing doses but it happens. I have to be better about taking the dose. I want to page my psychiatrist but it’s late. She will just tell me to go to the ER and I don’t want to. They will admit me and I don’t want to be admitted. This will pass. I can handle the voices by ignoring them even though I am agitated.

Well, too late to beat the pain in my ankle. It has just started. Fuck. I just took my pain meds so now I have to wait till they kick in. I hate this feeling. I am feeling out of control and yet I am in control. I had something to eat so that made me feel better as I haven’t eaten much all day. Sometimes not eating will cause me to become agitated, too. I know part of the reason I am aggravated is because I am overtired. I didn’t nap when I came home from therapy like I wanted to. Then my groceries came and I had to put them away. By the time that happened, I was so tired I didn’t know if I should eat or sleep. So I did neither.

I am so tired of fighting myself all the time. It’s really tiring. Actually, it’s exhausting, between the voices, the depression, the physical pain, the emotional pain, and then the emotions that go with it. I just want to die. I don’t know when this will happen. I hope that it will happen soon but I just don’t know. There are so many factors that go into it that I am just plain scared of it so I don’t do anything but think about it. I don’t tell anyone what I am thinking because I don’t want to be stopped. I pick dates. I plan a destination. But will I go through with it? I just don’t know.

Terrible Night

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

Terrible night

I just watched, via Twitter, the first presidential debate in my life and it was horrible. I am really afraid of what is going to happen when Trump is not president. I think a civil war might break out or something else. I am very scared of these times.

Pain has come back. My foot is throbbing and burning me. I can’t take another dose of pain meds for another half hour. I am really depressed. On Twitter there was other talk about suicide and talking out about it. It’s kind of bullshit because if you do talk about it on social media, you might get the police at your door the next day. I also found out through the State Police there was a jumper off the Tobin. He is alive and was taken to the hospital. I feel bad for him.

I haven’t heard from my psychiatrist. I guess she hasn’t read my blogs yet. It bothers me that she hasn’t read them. I don’t know why. They are old news now, sort of. I still can’t believe that she gave me a 4 week appointment. I might be gone by the next time I am supposed to see her.

There is so much I want to write about how I am feeling but I am scared someone is going to call the cops on me if I write it. I just feel so low and suicidal. I am tired of living with pain. I can’t go on with this bullshit anymore. Tomorrow I have to go up the hill to get the car. It’s going to be a hike. I don’t know if I will be able to do it but it’s too late now to cancel the reservation. My other car that I have been using isn’t available so I had to go up the street rather than down. I will be wearing my AFO so hopefully there won’t be any problems.

I am nervous about seeing my therapist tomorrow. I know we need to talk about my suicidal stuff but I really don’t want to because she doesn’t listen all the time. She tends to talk too much and then I just shut down. She does this every single time I get suicidal. Then I get mad and we fight. I just don’t know what to do anymore. I just want to die. And I don’t get why she wants me to live. She keeps saying that she can’t imagine a world without me in it. She doesn’t understand how tiring it is to live when you don’t want to. I’m not saying it’s easy to give up because I have tried to kill myself many times and failed. I just want to try one more time and if it doesn’t work, then I will stop trying. If I should succeed, then so be it. It was meant to be.

This talk is what is going on in my head. I know that it will hurt many people in my life. I am not stupid about the pain suicide causes. But living while being in pain is worse. It tears you up like you won’t believe. And there is no relieving this pain, this psychache. There was a time where I kept track of it. I had a scale that I used. But my physical pain overshadows my emotional pain so it’s become useless to me. There are other assessments used for the treatment of suicide but my therapist is a fink and won’t use them. She just want to know the “one thing” that will make me less suicidal and that is all she gets from the forms. Drives me crazy.