Tag: mental pain

Morning musings

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

I had a long morning. I kept on waking up from 0430 on till my alarm went off at 0630. I didn’t want to get up but I had to if I wanted coffee and breakfast before picking my father up. His appointment went well. I then scuttled off to my therapist’s office/town. It took me a good hour to get there as I hit every red light from one town to the next. I was traveling the back roads rather than the highway. Once I got to my Starbucks, I tried to edit but my brain was dead. I saw the words but it wasn’t holding my attention. I was too tired from the early morning awakenings and the drive out there. So I just pulled out my journal and wrote. I wrote about how I had to end a friendship because she kept on choosing bad habits and I was tired of seeing her hurt. She wanted someone else to save her but wouldn’t do anything to save herself. At least meet me half way but then she did what she intended to do that last night and I had to cut her off. She is just too toxic and I can’t be part of her injuring herself. I tried my best to help her but she is just too far away from me. I talked about it in therapy. I really didn’t want to, but it came up. My therapist is glad that made a “wise” decision but it still hurts me. I hate losing friends that are troubled. But I guess you can’t save them all if they can’t help themselves. I thought I could but I can’t. I just am not strong enough I guess.

We also talked about my upcoming date. She was pretty anxious about being here for a week and then leaving me to my own devices. With the stuff going on with my friend, I kind of forgot my own troubles for a bit. But leave it to my therapist to bring it up again. We talked about Hyde and how he comes about, or not. We haven’t pinned down exactly what triggers him. I could be writing something grand and then he will come in and write something awful. I have no way of knowing. It’s making me scared to write anything for fear of the white coats being called on me. My therapist asked if one of the journals I had bought was for Hyde. Hell no. He isn’t going to be in a nice journal. He will be in a composition notebook. But the things is, as well as that sounds, there is no guarantee he will use it. He might just use a word doc or email someone in the dead of night. I have warned people that if they should get a message from me late at night to just delete it or ignore it. Trouble is, they have not done so. The best I can describe when Hyde takes over is that I am in a dreamlike state. I am vaguely aware of what is going on. I have intense feelings of pain, anguish, and despair. And I have an agitation to write something, anything, to express these “bad” feelings. I don’t know where Hyde came from. He is a part of me, I know that. But just like cutting is to my friend, so is Hyde to my writing. I have just swapped out cutting for writing and it’s with poison ink! Some day I know I might be hospitalized again for my words. And I am going to have no recollection of this happening. It’s like I stepped out, Hyde takes over, and I write. I am not malicious, except to describe how terrible I feel. My psych wants code words and my therapist wants a notebook. How am I going to satisfy both when I have no idea what is happening until the next morning. Because soon after my/his words are exhausted, I fall into a restful slumber and wake up thinking it was a dream. I am safe as far as I know. Hyde has never taken lethal action against me. I think the writing wears him out and then he is too tired to act on the feelings he is writing about. Either that, or the cocktail of meds that I take finally give in and puts him/me out. But what brings on Hyde remains a mystery, least for now.

Times Have Changed But My Suicidality Has Not

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders, psychache, suicidality

I woke up because of having to pee and now I can’t go back to sleep. My room was freezing so I turned off the AC but then I realized, if I went back to sleep, I would wake up hot. So I have the AC on energy saver and hope the turning off and on doesn’t disrupt my sleep too much.

I am kind of in a dark mood. I just bought three journals because I needed them. The ones that I have are half way filled and I know by the end of the year, I will need a new one. I like the ones I bought. I am glad Barnes and Noble has such large journals. I do a lot of writing, in case you haven’t noticed.

I read one of my journal blogs that I wrote back in 2014. It was an entry that said that I cut myself and I went on about how scared I was that my therapist was going to flip out. I also didn’t want my psychiatrist to know because I knew it would cause her concern. The weird thing is, I don’t remember the incident at all. I had cut because of my TG issues. Now I am just suicidal. I have been struggling with this for months and I can’t seem to walk away from it. Like I wrote to my psychiatrist, I think there is a chance that I will go through with ending my life in a couple of weeks. I want to try it anyways, even though I know I am not going to like doing it. Suffocating oneself is difficult to do. But it’s the only means I have available to me. Worst thing that can happen is that I will be found before I am dead. That is my fear. And if that happens, I could have brain damage from lack of oxygen. That fear of being brain damage really wants me to stay away from this method. But it’s not like you can just buy arsenic pills on the internet like you used to. Maybe you can. Google hasn’t been much help in this arena. Even buying hemlock juice has been tricky. So I have come to the simpler methods that I have on hand.

I want my pain to end, permanently. Funny how I am writing about buying journals to write with and yet I want to take my life. How will those journals be useful to me? Most likely they will just be donated or given to my niece after I am gone. I am not sure what will happen with my things. Trash most likely. I haven’t written a will. I still have time, though I am not looking forward to it.

Since writing to my psychiatrist, I am afraid to write to her anymore. I don’t want to get a phone call after an email because she is concerned about my safety. Literally, she sent the email and within ten minutes she called me, after I sent the email the night before. I am so tired of worrying her and my therapist. Both want me to live. A lot of people I know want me to live, but how can I do that when I want to die so badly? I have been following the zero suicide academy postings on Twitter the past 24 hours. Jobes was there giving a talk about evidence based treatment. DBT, CBT, CAMS, and non demand follow up were among those shown to help decrease suicide. It got me thinking that maybe I should try to see another therapist to help with my suicidal feelings. Only problem is, money. I no longer have the money for copayments and I am on Medicare which only covers 80% of the visit. I would be responsible for the 20%. I wrote to my consultant last night. I gave him a blog reading of the “Love/Hate” that I wrote. I know that he would be interested in reading it. He was always curious about the relationship factor between my therapist and I. Now he will know in greater detail.

I follow suicide prevention because I am hoping it provides me with something to help my own suicidality. I don’t feel hopelessness. I think my depression would be 10 times worse if I were hopeless. I just feel so down that I just want it to end. I really think that if I try and see someone new, maybe they will provide me with some insight that I am missing. But ultimately, the choice is mine. No one can stop me, though they can try. I don’t think going in the hospital would be in my best interest. All they do is babysit you for 24 hours every day and drug you up. No real treatment exists in the hospital anymore. It’s not like it was back in the old days, where treatment and care were more important than containment and safety. I literally had to beg to be kept in house because I told them I was going to kill myself when I got out. Their response, “You are putting us in a difficult position”. I kid you not! And this was at a world class hospital! I won’t go there again. I won’t be subjected to non-treatment. Besides, the only ones that really cared were the nursing staff members. They took the time to get to know you and try and help you deal with shit. More so than your “treatment team”. It has been almost 11 months since my last admission. I like to say I am doing well staying out, but am I? They call you “stable” if you are able to stay out of the hospital for at least a year. How stable can you be if you think about ending your life every day? I just am not impulsive to act on my feelings every time I have them. Some people have not learned that self-control. I learned the hard way. I learned to keep my feelings to myself or I would have ended up in a state ward. This was twenty years ago. And times have changed.

Dark Moments

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

Dark Moments

My psychiatrist called me tonight after the email that I sent her. Here is what I wrote:
“things aren’t any better. I feel like all I am doing is going round and round on a guinea pig wheel. I am so tired that I can’t stop. Fatigue has hit me hard and fear the demons might come out tonight. I just wish this would all end. I’m tired of fighting the same battle with the same result. Bozo is going on vacation soon, for two weeks. I plan on taking my life the first of the two weeks. I just feel like a failure if I don’t try. Course I might be a failure if I do. I haven’t been too successful in either department. I still am getting heaviness in my chest. It’s like this invisible weight comes out of no where, pushing me down. Sometimes I can’t breathe. It’s not like a panic or anxiety attack. It’s just psychache that is very heavy. I don’t know if I am making sense”.

She wanted to know if I would still be seeing her on Friday. I said yes and I will be sporting a new haircut. This is how psycho I am. I am talking about taking my life and yet I want to get a buzz cut. I feel really anxious and I know it has to do with her call because I am so nervous. If she didn’t get in touch with me, I would be sectioned right now. She really was concerned. I told her something just gets a hold of me and I just write these things. To me, they are just words on a computer screen. They don’t mean anything to me, but when someone reads them, it is cause for concern. I don’t understand it. I know Hyde is responsible for some if it. I know he has been out more. Whenever I am dealing with TG stuff, he comes out more. I don’t know if I will be in the hospital or not. I am hoping not because Hyde won’t come out. I don’t think I am in danger. I just write my dangerousness out. I don’t think I will act on it, as much as I really want to.

These dark moments really get to me, after the fact. While I am writing them, they feel normal and translucent. It’s like I am not really writing them. I vaguely remember them in the morning. This is the second time that my psych has called me after sending her a terrible email of my dark thoughts. I try not to send them to her because I know they are cause for concern but I just can’t seem to hold back. She wants to know how I am doing so I tell her, honestly and truthfully. I know I probably should hold off sending them to her but I always hit send instead of save. I don’t know if I wrote on my laptop or if I sent it by my phone. The phone is easier to hit send than save.

I just feel like I am wasting her time in her trying to save me. I am just so miserable. There are no medications that she can give me to ease my pain, my psychological pain. There are times I just want to overdose on everything that I have to ease this pain, this psychache. But I don’t do it because I don’t want my mother to find me like that. I need to really do something about this. But I don’t know what to do. How do you cope with demons?? These are more than just dark moments. They are pure suicidal moments and they might just kill me.

I just filled in, the best I could via text message, to my therapist. I told her to call me today. I really need her assurance I am not losing my mind. Or if I am losing my mind, what we are going to do about it. I really don’t think going in the hospital is gong to help me. It never does. It sometimes makes things worse because I get frustrated. I just don’t know what to do. I wish there was an easy answer but there isn’t.

Did it Again

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, suicide, transgender

Did it Again

Just got off the phone with a good friend of mine. We were talking and I came very close to telling him that I was trans but something stopped me. Then I go on Facebook and lo and behold I find out that Obama has appointed the first transgender woman to some position. I got thinking, where the hell are the trans men? Am I the only one coming out? Should I stay in the closet, so to speak? I am getting so fucking bullshit about this that the suicidal impulses are at an all time high right now. I still think killing myself is the way to go. I will die as a woman, which is what everyone thinks I am anyway so who is going to know?

I just feel like I am wasting my time thinking about ending my life. I know that I probably am not going to go through with it, but I just need it to be there. But here I go again, stuck in the pain and darkness at an hour that isn’t convenient to talk to anyone about how I am feeling so I am writing this stupid blog. Not that I would call anyone. I hate talking to people on the phone, except for my goofy therapist. I haven’t taken my meds yet for the night. I took some trilafon because my thoughts were getting out of hand. The cousin that I saw earlier today called while I was talking to my friend. Figures. I knew he was going to call me tonight. He wants me to call him but it’s too late and he just wants to talk bullshit things. I am tired of bullshit. I can never talk to him when I am like this. He just doesn’t understand or want to deal with the darkness I deal with. No one does.

I know things will be better in the morning, they usually are. But this agitation is unreal right now. I hate feeling this way. I know pain is going to hit sometime soon so I have taken my pain meds in anticipation. My foot is already swollen so its just a matter of fucking time. I was telling my friend about this and of course, all he said was wow. He got it though. He has a medical background. He couldn’t believe I was disabled but he understands. I don’t know why I am so aggravated. I hate being who I am right now. I realized tonight that if I didn’t have breasts, I would be called a man but people don’t look at your face anymore, they just look at your chest to determine gender. It’s sickening. I hate being this way. And if I have to live like this for much longer, I know I will end up in the grave. I was reading today somewhere that suicide isn’t a destiny. Apparently they don’t know me. They also said that people just want their pain to end. Yes, that would be nice but I still will have to deal with the depression, the physical pain, the mental pain, the disability, the you name its. Who wants to live that way? I don’t. I have had enough. So the plan that I put off is not back on the table. Maybe it will be off the table by morning but I doubt it. I want to be something I am not and it’s killing me slowly, every day.