Tag: mental pain

Anorexia and being a nitwit

by Midnight Demon, posted in depression

Anorexia, another component of depression

Most people think that anorexia is an eating disorder, which it truly is. But I am using it in the context of no appetite. This is the third or forth day that I have eaten barely nothing. I had some cake and two hot dogs for the entire day. I just am not hungry like I used to be. Even eating the last hot dog was a challenge.

I slept all day, or tried to. I really didn’t leave my room except to use the bathroom and eat a little bit of cake. I only had two slices and that was it for the day. I only forced myself to eat the hot dogs because I needed something in stomach. It is so hard to eat when you don’t feel like eating.

Last night, I had the worst side effects of the abilify I had in a really long time. My hand cramped up and I could not get it to open. My arm just felt like a rubber ball being stretched to the match while my hand was tightly enclosed. It scared me. And I had to wait what felt like hours for the Ativan to work (it worked in like a half hour or less). Today my arm still felt weird so I took another Ativan to make it better. It worked. It also make me sleepy and I just now woke up enough to write this blog. I didn’t write one yesterday, or if I did, I don’t remember what I wrote about. Things seem all blurred this week because all I have been doing is sleeping.

I got an email from Amazon. My first paycheck from them is on the way! It will take about 5 days to process, so by Tuesday I should have money in my account, which will be good because I need some meds. Instead of buying a filet mignon, I am just going to go to a pub and get a cheeseburger BLT, when my appetite has returned. No point in getting it now as I probably will just take a bite and be full. In a way I am happy I have no appetite because that means I could potentially lose the weight that I has been stuck on me the past year. I really want to be below 200 and I know once it comes off there is a good chance it will stay off. I just got to watch what I eat. I am not doing this on purpose. I really have no appetite. But you do need some caloric intake to survive.

I have been ruminating today that I am a nitwit. I told my therapist that and she flipped out on me, but in a good way. She couldn’t understand why I felt like that. I still don’t. I guess I just feel really down that I just feel so stupid and like a nitwit. I don’t know where the feelings came from. I just know that it how I feel. I asked her if she was proud of me and instead of answering, she listed all my accomplishments over the past year. Sometimes, the reminder is all that you need. I was hoping that hearing these things would help my mood some but it didn’t. I still feel like a nitwit.

Suicidal thinking

by Midnight Demon, posted in chronic physical pain, depression, suicidality

It’s finally a nice day, at least seventy degrees out. It is making it warm in the house. I am watching the Sox game. I had spent the afternoon with my sisters for Mother’s day and then retreated back upstairs. I am still feeling really tired, even though I had a good sleep last night.

I had a rough night. I was in severe pain. It was not unbearable but it was more annoying me than anything because it was the third night in the row that I have had to deal with this pain. I texted my therapist because I was feeling really suicidal about it. I just didn’t want to deal with the pain at all but what choice did I have? I couldn’t chop my foot off as much as I would have liked or downed my pain medication like I was thinking about. I guess I am lucky that my pain medication has Tylenol in it because if it didn’t, I probably wouldn’t care. But I don’t want to lose my liver and die that way. Plus I probably would never be on any pain medication ever again if I did OD on my meds. That is something that I take more serious and I don’t want to lose that ability.

Dealing with my menses have just made dealing with pain that much more intolerable. I just am very grumpy and the slightest thing annoys me. I just can’t seem to tolerate things I used to tolerate, my annoying pain included.

Little things such as my pain can set off suicidal thinking. It is extremely hard to pull back when you are annoyed. I am trying to better identify this and to seek help so that I won’t make an attempt on my life again. In the ideal world, most therapists would like clients to call someone when they are on the brink. But rarely does this happen because of hopelessness. You just think that no one would understand what you are going through. I once texted a crisis line that I was thinking of overdosing on my medication. Instead of dealing with the idea of overdosing, they decided that I should talk to a nurse to see if it was safe to take another dose. HUH??? I have all but given up on calling for help when I need it.

A review and a Rant

by Midnight Demon, posted in cauda equina syndrome, chronic physical pain, depression

This morning I woke up to two comments, one was on my blog and the second was about my book. The one about my book was from a fellow CESer (Cauda Equina Syndrome sufferer) who loved my book so far and had to tell me about it. I felt good that she took the time to write such a lengthy comment, but well worded. She said I was an inspiration and that she would be sharing my book with friends and relatives. She is British, so used the word brilliant a few times. I didn’t mind. It was the kindest review I have gotten in a while.

The second comment left me perplexed. Either the writer had no clue what my blog was about or was trying to talk ragtime. Either way, I deleted the comment because if I couldn’t make sense of it, neither could anyone else.

To my new followers, thank you for following me. My readership has exploded the last few days and I thank you for it. I hope you find this blog informative and relative to what you are experiencing, or at least helps you to understand what it means to be suicidal a little better.

I did not succeed in canceling my appointments with my therapist this week. I texted her my swollen ankle and some how that was reason to uncancel my cancellation. UGH. Won’t do that next time! Course, the reason why a swollen ankle would not cancel a psychotherapy session is beyond me. She still wants a signed copy of my book. She desperately wants me to come out there. I am still trying to figure it out but I haven’t been feeling well all week. Today, my allergies have been making me sick with gagging episodes. I really hate post nasal drip and it doesn’t help that my area has trees that are in bloom, that I am allergic to. And it’s chilly. Temperature has gone back down to freezing. I can’t believe it’s almost May and we still have the heat on. There have only been one or two days that have been above 50 degrees in the past two weeks. My back and foot hate the cold. I used to not mind it but when it causes me pain, I have to pay attention to it. I also have been in a lot of pain the past few days. And of course, all I want to do is sleep because that is what my depression wants. I forced myself out today, gagging and all, to get my prescription and a mocha. I am praying the mocha stays in my stomach. I just figured maybe, if I got some coffee, I would feel better. I am a little bit more awake but I definitely feel like I need a nap.

My cousin invited me over for dinner tonight. He is also going to cut my hair. The barber didn’t do a good job so it’s longer in some places and shorter in others. I know I should go back but I think my cousin can fix it. Besides, it has been a few weeks since my last haircut. I usually like it buzzed on the sides and back and then short on top. My cousin will likely blend it in with scissors as his regular stuff is at his shop. I told him I was looking forward to dinner but really, all I want to do is sleep. Screw the haircut and dinner. I don’t care. But I told him I would go so it is too late now to cancel on him. He is making me cheeseburgers.

My therapist was annoying today. She will ask a question, say how am I doing and then when I ask to clarify, she replies with three questions. WTF. I hate that! It gets me all jumbled up. So I just answer one of them. We were also talking about how there is a suicidologist that seems to be making headway with his Interpersonal theory on suicide. His name is Tom Joiner. I read his book, Why People die by Suicide? And it was good. His theory is valid, as I have been there but the one element he is missing is psychological pain. I have noticed since Shneidman’s death, no one talks about psychological pain anymore. I find it sad, really sad. But even with knowing about the perceived burdensomeness and thwarted belongingness, how do you go about “treating” suicidal patients? That is the one thing that I believe is lacking in his theory. There is no treatment for it, and that is where Jobes’s CAMS model and SSF (suicide status form) comes in. Using this is the best defense in preventing suicide. That is my belief. If I didn’t feel so strongly about it, I wouldn’t be writing about it. Because it helped to save my life and I know it has helped others. It is also a reason why I talk about it in my book.

Don’t Feel Like Talking

by Midnight Demon, posted in depression, suicide attempt

Don’t feel like Talking

I have been reviewing in my mind the last few suicide “mini” attempts that I took over the past several months. I am wondering why I never called for help or called a friend. It wasn’t like I didn’t have a number for a friend I couldn’t call or a helpline or a chat person. I just was constricted into one way of thinking. I needed to escape and that was going to happen. It was my “only” way out. I think I slipped into Mr. Hyde and ran away from help. I couldn’t possibly think that someone would understand the amount of pain that I was in or understand that ending my life was the only way out of the mess that I was in. And it wasn’t truly a “mess”. I just wanted an out that I could count on.

My last attempt was last week. I wrote a blog about it and then fell asleep. While I slept off my drugs, at least three bloggers tried to get in touch with me through various ways. One of them found my personal email, which I am still wondering how in the world they got. I am glad I don’t have my cell phone listed anywhere or it probably would have been traced back to me. But since that happened, I have been scared to write. Scared because I don’t want the police showing up at my door. I have had that happen before and it wasn’t a pretty picture. It was terrible because even though I was in “protective custody” through EMS (the paramedics had already showed up and taken me to the hospital), the police and fire department didn’t know that so broke a window to get into my house. I was freaked out when I heard about this. My family was wicked worried about me. And that was all because I wrote an email to my psychiatrist. My writing has gotten me into trouble. So now I am scared that it will again. I have dissociative episodes. I barely remember sending the blog that night. I don’t even remember what I said, other than taking pills.

I don’t want to stop blogging. It has been a lifeline for me. But I also realize that I need to be more aware of my thoughts and feelings to stop the hurt before I take something lethal. Luckily, I only took a few pills. I didn’t take a bottle. But the question remains, why didn’t I feel like talking to someone before I took them??

I know of suicide prevention. I know of suicide assessments. So why didn’t I use them? I am not beating myself up here. I am just trying to understand what went on inside my head so that I can do something the next time this happens. All that I come up with is that I didn’t want to go to the hospital again. If I paged my psych and told her I wanted to take my life, I don’t think she would let me off the phone unless I had a plan with her to go to the ER. So that option is out. Luckily, through this recent episode, I found a fellow survivor that I can email. I hope that I can email her and talk freely about what I am feeling and what I want to do. That is if I feel like talking. That is the key…talking. To know one’s story. I feel like such a hypocrite because I wrote a book, published it, and then tried to take my life afterwards. Some survivor I am. I am totally unstable and I don’t think I will ever be stable. I told my therapist today, that if I had the chance, I would try again. I am just tired of living. SO DAMNED TIRED. I have nothing keeping me here. My protective factors are minimal. I don’t even know if they exist anymore. I mean, I love my family a little bit but I don’t feel connected to them in anyway. I just feel like I am this stranger that comes out of my room and says hi every now and then. I hardly go out anymore. My life is meaningless.

My therapist is so excited about my book that she doesn’t even want to read my blog anymore. Though my blog readership has hit an all time high lately. I should be proud of that. But I don’t feel it. I don’t feel anything. I am not interested in anything. I got my journal of Suicide and Life threatening behavior today and it didn’t even excite me. One of my favorite suicidologists wrote a paper in it. I should have been all over it but I wasn’t. I had no interest in what the article was about. I am too depressed to care about anything. And I don’t even talk to my therapist anymore. All she wants to talk about it my fricken book. I am done talking about my book. It just depresses me. And I don’t know why. I should be on cloud nine right now but I am not. Maybe I should go back on an anti-depressant. But I am so sensitive to them, they just make me sick. I hate this anhedonia I have been feeling. I hate that worse than the psychache that I have been feeling. I mean, how many times can your heart break and nobody know? Because depression is an invisible illness. No one sees it. No one else feels it. It’s all inside you. And no one feels like talking about it.