Tag: mental pain

heavy heart full of pain

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

Heavy heart full of pain

I have been in a funk the past few hours. I thought it was because I didn’t eat for several hours but I had dinner and my heart sunk lower than it did before eating. I feel really miserable. I just feel really depressed and I don’t know why. That is the hardest part of dealing with this illness. It just takes so much just to go from a to b. I did a lot today but I still feel like I am useless. I feel like I have no purpose. I texted my therapist to tell me it is worth one’s while to live, but I haven’t heard back. I honestly don’t expect a response. She probably will give me a response tomorrow.

I just feel like my heart can’t take any more pain that I am feeling. It is getting to be unbearable. You would think that I would be used to it by now but I am not. It just rips my heart to pieces when the pain is so heavy. It clouds your thinking, but you don’t see it. Everyone seems happy around you and you try to be but inside you are dying. You can’t help but think of death. Least that will stop the hurting. You think of drinking your sorrows away. You think of anything that will ease your hurt. But nothing helps this heavy heart. It weighs on you like a boulder.

No one notices your pain. There are no outward signs that you are in misery. You put on a brave face and no one is the wiser. It is exhausting. It is tiring. It drags you down so deep that you don’t ever think you will reach the surface again. You are just stuck in a tunnel that has no light at the end of it. Nothing brings you joy or pleasure. Not even that one cup of coffee you used to enjoy. It’s tasteless now. Everything tastes bland. What used to have flavor no longer does. It’s so hard to find something you enjoy only to have it taken from you. The anhedonia is so awful. It also makes death more welcoming.

Depression keeps taking and the more you fight it, the more you want to give up. It’s like trying to keep the waves at bay when you are facing a tsunami. The waves are crushing you bit by bit. And you keep wondering why this is happening to you, that you must be a bad person to feel this way. I just think I am a worthless person that everyone seems to think that I am worthwhile. They are sadly mistaken. There is nothing worse than false hope. Yet that is what keeps some days, like today, a little brighter: hope. I wish you can bottle it and take it as a pill sometimes when your heart is weighing you down, because then you are so out of it that nothing seems to matter. You are just thinking of ending your life and that is all that matters to you. No one understands the struggle. No one wants to bear your pain. You are alone though people often tell you are not.  They are not with you in the depths of your despair, when it’s 3 am and you are clinging on to the rafters because the waves are overwhelming you. No, death is much more pleasurable than living. Sleep offers no solace from the terrors you face. It is short, too short to offer any comfort anymore. It seems to happen in a blink of an eye. A constant state of sleep deprivation doesn’t help the depression or the aching soul.

Death must happen swiftly to ease the broken heart. It’s the only remedy this disease calls for. The pain is too much for the heart to take. The weight is too much to bear. It screams louder than the pain inside. It’s like a tea kettle without the whistle. The pressure building but no release valve in sight. One day the heart will beat no more and the misery will end.

Quote of the Day 23 Nov 2015

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, depression, mood disorders, Quotes

“If I can’t feel, if I can’t move, if I can’t think, and I can’t care, then what conceivable point is there in living?”

― Kay Redfield Jamison, An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness

Quote of the day 22 Nov 2015

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, depression, mental disorders, mental illness, mood disorders, psychache, Quotes, suicide

The main point of working with a lethally oriented person-in the give and take of talk, the advice, the interpretations, the listening-is to increase that individual’s psychological sense of possible choices and sense of being emotionally supported.-Edwin Shneidman, Suicide as Psychache

Tolerating depression and suicide

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

Been reading “Suicide as Psychache” by my buddy Edwin Shneidman. He is such a verbose writer. And he uses obscure words. Reading it is like swallowing a dictionary. I just read a section that deals with highly suicidal persons in psychotherapy. He describes how to lower the perturbation and lethality to keep the person alive. As I was reading this, I was thinking about the first responders and police officers who deal with suicidal situations all the time. Their judgement must be quick. They don’t have the time to pull out a piece a paper and write down the reasons of their perturbations. They just have to quiet down the person enough to take them to the hospital for possible treatment, assuming the suicide was in progress when they approached. It is different than what goes on in the private office of the therapist.

I also have been thinking about my own suicidality. It’s hard not to when you are reading a book about the subject. I know I want to die. But as Shneidman states, death is always inevitable, so why rush it? I feel like I don’t want to get older. My birthday is coming up and I just cannot bear it. It has never been a source of joy in my adult years. I always dread it. It will be taking place in a little over a month. My therapist keeps on harping on the frustrated needs that I have that are pushing me to my death. It isn’t all about my needs that are pushing me to my death. I feel like I am not making a difference anymore. I hardly have any friends that I talk to on a regular basis. People think of me and I think of them but no contact happens.

Today I will be visiting my cousin’s wife. She is the wife of my Godfather who I was thinking of last week as it was his birthday. I will be going with my other cousins that I am close to. One of them is sympathetic to my depressions and suicidal states. The other is not so sympathetic. We have about a 45 min to an hour drive to see my Godfather’s wife. The ride is going to be interesting. I am nervous about this. I am not in a suicidal state, so that is good. But I am depressed. I know that I will put on my “happy” face so that I don’t worry them as we take this long drive.

I wish my menses would stop but I am still in the middle of the cycle. I so want to go back to wearing boxers. My cousins don’t know that I am transgender. It’s just not something we talk about. But then there are a lot of things we don’t talk about. One of my cousins just became a grandmother so I guess we will be talking about that for most of the ride. I have yet to meet the grandbaby. I hope I do someday. I am not that close to my “little” cousins as I once was. It’s hard when you don’t have a car. But it’s also hard when you don’t get invited to events in their lives.

I still feel empty inside, like I got nothing inside me. My heart is heavy. Nothing tastes good. I found an article about an antidiabetic medication that helps with depression. I passed it along to my pdoc to see if this med might work for me. It’s supposedly good for those with insulin resistance and I also have that. I hope my pdoc considers it. I will take anything that will help me at this point. If it will help fill this void that is called my life, I will try it. I haven’t looked into the drug. I will when my pdoc gives the okay to take it. I will look at the side effects and such. All I have been doing lately is tolerating my depression and suicidality. It’s all I can do lately.