Tag: mental pain

Sleepy Saturday

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, depression

Sleepy Saturday

I took my meds this morning and I guess the baclofen along with the trileptal kicked my ass. I was knocked out by 1330. I just woke up about a half hour ago. I had something to eat and then had one of my cookies. My mother made her chocolate chip cookies but they didn’t taste as good as mine.

I had a good nap but now I can’t go to the pharmacy to pick up my prescription as they are now closed. I hate that they close early on weekends. I will have to pick it up tomorrow. Tomorrow is my brother in law’s birthday party. I have no idea who is invited and who will show up. I will make an appearance and then quietly leave after the cake is served. I will be putting out my cookies. I am sure they will be gone in a flash. Despite them being a malt cookie, they don’t really taste like it. They are just really chocolaty. But then I had to use chocolate malt because it was the only kind of malt Stop and Shop had. I was really shocked they didn’t have any other kind other than Ovaltine. I am not sure if I will be using the rest of it. I never had Ovaltine before. I will try it and see if I like it. I really don’t want it to go to waste as it was $5 for the can. I might make the cookies again and, as my niece suggested, use parchment paper so the cookies don’t stick to the pan. I wonder if it will stick to the paper though? That will suck!

I really need to control my spending but I have no control. Yesterday was hypomanic for most of the day. I emailed my psychiatrist and she thinks it might be the abilify causing my mood to be elevated. I don’t care. I rather be up than down. But today I am kind of on the downside of things. I am not depressed, just a little sad. I found out my new favorite catcher is hurt and is out of the ballgame for a while. Now they have another no name catcher. I haven’t seen him play all spring so I don’t know if he is a good replacement or not. I feel bad for the hurt catcher because he is young (in his early 20s). I don’t know what is wrong with his elbow. He just had an MRI yesterday so results probably won’t be available until Monday or Tuesday. I just hope he doesn’t have to have surgery.

My spending is on take out food. I bought a steak and cheese sub and a half pizza today with fries. I was craving it so I ordered it. I have been feeling guilty since I bought it. I know I am going to regret it because I could have used the money to buy my fish and chips, which would have lasted longer than the take out food. I usually buy a big bag of Gordon’s breaded fish and then a bag of tater tots, hence, fish and chips. Now I am not sure I can get them. My gluttonous habits suck. Least the pizza will last a day or two. I love eating cold pizza.

I have been staring at an article about Edwin Shneidman the last few days. I have been meaning to read it but just haven’t had the motivation to do so. I am sure I will find something useful in the article relating to how to prevent suicide and make me feel better because reading about Shneidman always makes me feel better about my suicidal thoughts. He gets how suicidal people can become. And I actually met the author that wrote the article, Dr. Antoon Leenaars. He is a wonderful guy. I met him when he was in Boston for the 41st annual AAS conference.

to therapy or not?

by Midnight Demon, posted in mood disorders, psychology, psychosis

To therapy or not?

I spent most of the time while on the phone with my therapist today, trying to bring up therapy. What does it mean? Are we doing it “right”? Is she really helping me or am I just wasting my time? Then when I got home, I really thought about not having therapy anymore. I don’t see the point. I know that I am not in a too stable position to make a major decision like this. And I am not saying to stop therapy forever. But I think we have lost what “therapy” is. We talk for 50 minutes, usually I do most of the talking, but she has to talk sometimes, too. Sometimes it is helpful. Other times, or most times, I feel like she is regurgitating what I just said to her and putting it in her words. I feel lost. I have been reading about how psychotherapy is supposed to be helpful but I don’t find it helpful anymore. I feel like there is a war going on (inside me) that tries to stay the course, to please her, to have her hear my idiotic stories about my family.

She was on vacation last week and I had a couple of psychotic episodes. I was left to deal with it on my own. But then, I deal with everything on my own. I put myself on medicines that I think would be helpful. In the end, it is I who chooses to stop them because I no longer care. I don’t care if I kill myself. I don’t care who I hurt in the process. I just want to end my life and why is that so damn terrible?? People do it every day, every 15 minutes according to the statistics. I am just in a vulnerable state right now. My mind is playing tricks on me. The voices are either there or not there. I can’t fucking tell anymore. And when they are not there, I feel utterly alone and frightened. I don’t know why the voices have gone away. I haven’t taken that much medicine to make them go away. Something changed last night and I don’t know what it is. Maybe the mixed state fucked with the voices. I don’t know. I am too tired to listen for them. Usually they are loud when I am stressed. I have too much riding on my back. And I don’t think therapy is going to help me sort it all out. I am tired of dealing with me. And I think my therapist is too, she just won’t say it. I know I am a burden to her. I take up too much of her time.

I am supposed to take my abilify tonight, but I am not going to. I got to see if the voices come back. I need my reading voice to finish my books. Otherwise, they are just words on a page that has no meaning to me. Sure, I can “read” but it just won’t make any sense to me.

I am very tired, probably exhausted. I woke up early and did all the things that I needed to do today. The T gods were on my side. I had no troubles today. Only troubles that I have is in my heart and mind. I’d even take a commanding voice back if that meant I would be back in the psycho world. I feel really alone and I don’t like it. It’s lonely without my voices.

So I don’t think I should be in therapy, even though my therapist will argue for it. She is good at that. But what I need, she can’t give me. And I am very sad about that. I still wonder what my diagnosis is from her, not that it really matters. I often wonder if I still have borderline personality disorder or not. Or what personality disorder I do have. It’s been ages since psych 101 so I can’t even think what kinds of disorders are out there. But I don’t want to label myself. That is the worse thing you can do is to label yourself because that puts you in a box. And sometimes you are the round hole trying to put in a square peg that doesn’t fit.

A quote

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, chronic physical pain, depression, mental illness

“Never kill yourself while you are suicidal. You can, if you must, think about suicide as much as your wishes and let the thoughts of suicide –the possibility that you could do it- carry you through the dark night. Night after night. Day after day, until the thoughts of self-destruction runs its course and a fresh view of your own frustrated needs comes into clearer form in your mind and you can, at last, pursue the realistic aspects, however dire, of your natural life”. –Edwin Shneidman, Suicidal Mind, p166

I came across this passage on the last page of the book. I found it meaningful because I have spent night after night, day after day, thinking about ending my life. I have even thought about ending my life when I wasn’t so depressed and hopeless, but I never felt the urgency to end it when I wasn’t in horrendous emotional pain, or physical pain as it has been the last few years. I posted this, during a chat last night. I guess you can say that I interrupted the chat. It wasn’t my intention. I forgot the chat was taking place during that time. I tried to participate in the rest of the chat but as usual, I didn’t. Yet a few of us had a discussion on the side about how we let our providers know if we are suicidal or not. My experience with my PCP is not to let on that I am suicidal, unless he asks me directly. I cannot bullshit my way out of a paper bag so I will answer honestly when asked a question. Most times, I get the third degree about my suicidal tendencies and my narcotic medication. He wants to make sure I am “safe” with it. What he doesn’t know, even though I have told him a million times, is I am more afraid of the Tylenol content than I am of the narcotic content. But I still get the drill of asking if I am safe with the medication. I really want to say that I have other plans that are more lethal but I don’t for fear of getting tossed in the psych ER.

I am feeling like a caged rat these days. I haven’t been able to get my coffee/latte at Starbucks in weeks because of the severe snow we have been getting. I thought I would be able to go out today but the buses are on a reduced schedule because of the holiday and still trying to get dug out of the snow. Plus, it’s a measly 1 degree out. So I am just staying in my room, again. I am listening to the radio today. Unfortunately, my favorite DJ is off today. We sometimes chat on Twitter.

I found out that my book is being sold on Ebay in the UK. I think it’s funny, but whatever gets my book sold, I am for. I am supposed to send out my book to reviewers, but because of my depleted funds and mail being disrupted due to the snow, I think I will wait until the end of the month. Hope by then, the storms will have gone away. Tomorrow and Wednesday we are expected to get more snow. It’s terrible. I don’t remember a winter this harsh. I just fear flooding when it all melts.

I guess today would be a good day to work on my short story. I will try and work on it after I write this blog. The nice thing about this story is that it’s new. I haven’t posted it on my blog and I don’t think I am going to. Unlike my “Darkness will Win” post, that is going to be published. I am working on collecting a few blogs and short stories together to make my second book. I just hope that formatting goes easier the second go round. The first time it was a nightmare. I literally had to go through all 150 pages to make sure they were formatted correctly on each page. And for the life of me, I could not get the acknowledgements page to be on its own. Drove me crazy! The first copy of the Kindle was all messed up. Luckily, only a few people bought it. I fixed it best I could but I still think there is a blank page in there somewhere.

I haven’t had much appetite the last few days. I don’t know why this is. I am depressed but I am not “that” depressed. At least the day time sleepiness is gone. My therapist is on vacation this week. It sucks having her away. My psychiatrist is still out with her broken hip. I just communicate with her via email. I sent her a couple of emails and got no response as usual. I wish she would acknowledge the damn thing so 1) I know she got it and 2) I get a little feedback. I just feel like I am roughing it on my own these days. I stopped taking my antidepressant because it stopped working. I wasn’t going to increase it without her being in the office. Plus it was causing me to keep the weight on as it increased my appetite. I haven’t noticed a big change in my mood since stopping it. I really don’t miss taking it. One less pill to take at night.

Three feet from the bureau

by Midnight Demon, posted in Chronic pain, chronic physical pain, depression, suicide attempt

Three feet from the bureau

In October of 2012, I was caught in another flare up. It was night time, well past business hours of doctors and therapists. Normally I am good at reaching out. I text my therapist. I write in my journal or blog to get through the episode. But this night was different. I snapped. I couldn’t bear any weight on my foot that night and it really made me feel like I couldn’t go on. I was so tired of feeling like an invalid. I wanted to die in an awful way. Problem was that I couldn’t get to my bureau three feet away to get the meds I needed to do me in. Any time I tried to move, I was in agony with horrible foot pain. I could barely move my foot out of the covers of my bed let alone stand long enough to shuffle to the bureau. I cried as there was nothing I could do but take what I had at my bedside. It wasn’t much but it was enough to make me unconscious and away to dreamland I went.

When I awoke the next morning, I was in a dreadful mood. I wondered if I had really done what I thought I did. I checked my pill box and it was empty. I checked the contents of my pain meds and it was close to empty. I couldn’t believe what I had done. But I survived it and am living to tell about it. How I woke up I don’t know. I felt ashamed of myself, not in surviving but of making an attempt and not seeking help. I had promised my doctors that if I felt like I did that night, I would call them. But no phone calls were made. I had a confidential suicide hotline to call but I didn’t. I had made suicide prevention part of my treatment plan but yet the crisis response plan went out the window that night. I didn’t implement any of it. I just took pill after pill until I passed out.

This scared me. I was no longer in pain yet who is to say that if this happened again I wouldn’t try to end my life again? Dealing with chronic pain is a beast. And so many times it doesn’t get a flag for suicide risk assessment. My better judgment wasn’t in gear that night. I not only wanted to end the pain, I wanted to end everything. I spend the next few days in a haze, and not from medication. I was scared to let my practitioners know what I had done. I finally broke down and told my therapist. It was very difficult admitting my attempt. I then told my psychiatrist and she shocked me by saying that if I wasn’t in pain, I wouldn’t have done what I did. And it’s true. Chronic pain changes you, not only physically but mentally as well. It took me a while to write about what I had done on my blog. After all three feet was the only thing stopping me from ending my life or attempting to. I’m still fearful about making another attempt while in the throws of another flare up. I keep a small portion of my meds by my bedside so they are not lethal. I was lucky I didn’t need medical intervention the next day. I still am not quite sure how many pills I took that night. And that also scares me because who is to say that the next time I won’t count them out.

Chronic pain is not something to underestimate. Hundreds try to end their life year after year because of physical pain. Most people see their doctors before an attempt is made. The question remains whether an assessment is made for either depression or suicidal thinking. My primary tries to assess my mental health but mostly just asks when my next appointment with my psychiatrist will be. It might be followed up by will I call him if I feel like taking an overdose of my pain medication. Yet he knows he is not the first person I will call. In my order of people to call: my psychiatrist, therapist, primary, then ER if I can’t get a hold of one of them.

That night, I didn’t call anyone. All of my safety plans went out of the window. All because I was overwhelmed by excruciating physical pain. I think if I could go back in time, I would have taken the time to breathe. And think more of self-preservation rather than self-destruction. I am more aware now of what to do but it’s not that easy when you are in the heat of the moment. A month ago I was again in excruciating pain for three days yet suicide was the furthest thing from my mind. I knew what to do to cope with the physical pain. And luckily that didn’t involve a bottle of pills. I felt the attack come on so treated my pain much earlier than I did in October. This helped to keep the suicide demons at bay. I texted my therapist, I emailed my primary that I was in excruciating pain. I also got in touch with my psychiatrist who help me to see there was a tomorrow. Doing these things didn’t make my physical pain hurt less but made my psychological pain bearable. It helped me to cope through this rough patch.

Being mindful about pain is how I get through bad flare ups. I have no control over these pain attacks. But I do have control over what I do with it. I learned my lesson from that October night.