Tag: physical pain

Twitter and another day of buses

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

Twitter and another day of buses

I had woken up a few times since 0630 due to pain. I had slept okay for the first time in a while. I took my meds when I woke up and then waited till after 7 so I could shut off my med alarm for my BP meds and try to sleep for a bit. I wanted to be out of the house by 9 but that didn’t happen. So I was pushing for either 10 or 1030 the latest. I had some breakfast. I didn’t feel like making an egg so I just made a peanut butter and fluff sandwich. It is called a fluffernutter. I had a recent follow on Twitter ask what is was. I have to laugh. We (Britain and US) have different ways of calling the same things or different things when it comes to food. Crisps are fries. Biscuits are cookies. But a flutternutter is unique to New England as the marshmallow fluff was created in Somerville Mass, then the patent sold and was then manufactured in Lynn, MA. There is a fluff day coming up soon to commemorate the invention of the sweet spread.

So after I ate, I left for my pharmacy. The stock had come in but due to some computer problem, they couldn’t fix it until tomorrow. I said I would like the copy of the script so I can have it filled at another pharmacy. I just got to the bus stop when the bus came. I would have been pissed if I missed it. I put my headphones on and traveled. I got to the pharmacy, which is way bigger than the one near me. I then waited nearly 45 minutes for it to be filled. I was not happy. I also paid more for Miralax at this store than my home one, which further annoyed me. I then walked to the bus stop but had just missed a bus going to a train station. According to my bus app, my bus wasn’t coming for another 12 minutes. Another bus going to the train station came a few minutes later and I took it as it looked like it was going to rain. My ankle was talking to me. I felt like I am being stabbed repeatedly in the same spot. I took the breakthrough med and hoped it wasn’t going to knock me out.

As I was going to the station, my legs felt like jelly. I had been doing some serious walking the past three days so they were understandably tired. I still wanted to make the zucchini pie when I got home. I was hungry as it was after lunch time when I got home and all I had was the sandwich. I had a pop tart as I started to prepare for cooking. It took me a little while to get things done. The stupid container that held the diced onions wouldn’t open. The butter would cut the way I wanted it to so made a mess. I was getting so annoyed as my legs were about to divorce me. I put everything together and then put it in the oven. I used two more eggs because there was a lot of vegetables and I wasn’t sure it would be covered with just four. I also used two bags of shredded cheese. I was only supposed to use 12 ounces but what is 4 ounces more??

I went upstairs to relax while it cooked in the oven. I checked Twitter and had been checking it on and off all day. It was making me so fucking sad because of what the dumbass in chief is doing to immigrant families. There was a tweet where a 4 month old was taken from the mother while she was breastfeeding!! What the fuck!!! The stories are horrendous and all my representative cares about is how people working minimum wage can’t afford housing. It is a total fucking mad house. I tried to just tweet and not read others tweets. One of the people that I follow follows some police feeds. All the retweets are missing kids. I can’t take it. Game started playing at 3 pm and I couldn’t get what was going on. All my feed was on the immigrant kids, Orange Buffoon’s foolish summit with NK, and the bullshit that is going on with the opioid epidemic. I think I need a Twitter break. It used to be a way for me to know what is going on and stay in the know but now I don’t want to know shit!! I am suicidal enough and politics and kids being ripped from their families are just adding to it. I don’t like what my country is becoming. And nobody in Congress is pushing forward to put a stop to it. What really gets me is a person in Congress will tweet, X should be done. Fucking do it!! What the hell are you waiting for?? Retweets aren’t going to make it fucking happen you nitwit!! Or the other thing is to call the representatives/senators. This has been going on since fucking January 20th, 2017!!! I am tired of it. I am tired of calling/tweeting. Nothing is happening because of these calls. Just feels like a huge hopeless situation.

Bigger

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

Bigger

This song is by Sugarland and I have to say, it speaks to me. Not in a psychotic way like some music can do, but the lyrics touch me because it is hopeful and I feel like Jennifer Nettles, who I adore, is speaking directly to me as she sings it. (I know that isn’t it but you kind of feel it with the tone of voice she uses.) It is a beautiful song and as my last few days have been rocky and filled with suicide, it is slowly sifting in my brain that maybe I can put off my plan a little longer.

I emailed my psychiatrist as I have had another day where my mood is a fricken rollercoaster. I have felt slightly above normal (not really euphoric) and then crash. Last night I swear I was having mixed states as the perturbation was so bad I couldn’t sleep. I was so on edge. But I woke up depressed but not so much that I stayed in bed like I wanted. I forced myself to catch the bus. I didn’t change out of my PJs. They could pass as sweatpants so I just went out with them. Fuck it, people go out in the PJs all the time, why should I be different? I did the few errands and had the intent of making zucchini pie today.

I was exhausted when I came home. The fluidity that I was able to walk with yesterday was gone. Every step was painful and slow as molasses. Not sure if that was due to pain or depression. I just felt like I was going uphill with every step I took, even on level ground. I saw my mother had taken out some meat for dinner. I was grateful I didn’t have to cook. I will make the zucchini pie tomorrow after I go to the pharmacy to get my breakthrough med as there doesn’t seem to be one close to me. I called the one I go to all the time and they are out of stock and think it might come in Friday. That is just unacceptable. I’d go tonight if I had a car, though I might get lost as I am not too sure of the way. I know the bus route so will take it tomorrow. I hate going there two days in a row but I need my meds and I really don’t want to wait till Thursday when I see my PT.

One of the suicidologists on Twitter liked my blog that I wrote yesterday or rather this morning. I was kind of in the mixed state so was hyper/depressed and needed to write. It was nearly 1700 words. She asked my permission to use a section of it for her class that she teaches. I said sure as long as you credit Midnight Demon. That was all I ask. Give credit where credit is due. I haven’t read what I wrote. I usually just write and then publish. Then someone comments and I wonder what the fuck did I write. Happens all the damn time, even in my journal writing. There was a time where I was in the hospital for a lengthy stay. I wrote in notebooks (didn’t have fancy journals like I do now) and I went back to read what I wrote. My handwriting changed so many times I thought it was a different person writing. The think that always struck me, even to this day, my feelings always stayed the same. It was just a different day. Talk about feeling hopeless. I literally had proof that I was a severely depressed hopeless person.

jump then fall

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

Jump then fall

Honestly had no idea what to name today’s blog and I am listening to Taylor Swift’s song, Jump then Fall so just chose that as a title.

I read one LONG chapter of Brother’s Karamazov. It was typical Dostoevsky. The chapter had nothing to do with the story. It was about one of the character’s interacting with a hallucination due to his illness. I was just reading to get through it, so I don’t even remember what it was exactly about. I made myself a new goal for the week. That if I finish this book, I will then read the Harry Potter series, again. I can’t help it. I follow a couple of Harry Potter Twitter accounts and they always show quotes from the books/movies and I want to relive it again. I love it so much!

I actually bought another book on the recommendation of Wil Wheaton called All the Birds in The Sky. He said it was good so I will read that along with Harry, if I get that far. I have a lot of things to do this week and my fucking ankle flared up today. I was at my sister’s apartment getting ice. I turned around and almost lost my balance. I didn’t see where my bad foot landed. I went to pick it up to walk to my apartment and it hit the drill that was on the floor. OUCH!!! Instant flare. Fucker. Pain is currently a 12, which is better than it was four hours ago when it happened. I just took a strong pain pills and some dark chocolate to help me feel better. I was talking to my support group friends and told them the chocolate is my “extra strong pain pills.” They wanted to start a post about sweets but were reluctant so I did it. I am not shy, LOL.

My mother said she was going to make spaghetti with my gravy. I was like score! I went downstairs to my sister’s to empty my recycle bin. It was close to overflowing so needed to be emptied. The dinner was ready when I came back upstairs. It wasn’t spaghetti. It was shells. I said so to my mother and she was like, we haven’t had them in a while. UGH. I want spaghetti, not shells!! I ate it anyway. I finished off the last of the meatballs. My mother made the box of the pasta. She can eat it all week.

I filled my med box for the week. I need to take my meds soon. Last night I realized I didn’t take my meds Friday night. I was just so upset over the whole pain doc and pain meds that I just forgot. I thought I did take them but they were still in the box when I took my meds last night. No wonder I had trouble sleeping that night. But my writing bug has been activated. I have been wanting to write all day but kept getting distracted by the internet. Plus the ball game was on so it just didn’t happen. I want to write some more about suicide and getting help, in general. It is not easy seeking help and if you have a past like mine, it is extremely difficult to find another therapist that will take you on. But it is on the mental health professional, not you! If you have a problem with alcohol, it is best to find an addictions counselor rather than a general counselor or therapist. Support groups are invaluable. There are plenty online or even on Facebook. Depends on what you are looking for and how private you want them. Going to a group therapy takes some work. But the peer support work better. People that have alcoholic spouses or parents also can get groups for them that are free. Just need to put a little effort into finding something that works for you. There is a good likelihood that the first person you meet isn’t going to work out for you. It’s like any other relationship. Takes commitment and work. If they don’t work out after 2 or 3 sessions, find someone else or another group. I went through at least three CRPS groups before I found the one I am in. What a difference! The people are friendly and supportive to all members. I also run a support group for CES on Facebook and it is a good group. There are some people that come in with their own agenda, looking for money for themselves or their “cause”. You are going to find that anywhere though. I try not to let those people in because that is no really supportive nor do other members have the money to donate or feel pressure to donate because someone asks. Most are on a fixed budget like me so there might not be extra funds after all bills and meds are paid for the month. I’m fortunate to live with my mother to pay some bills that I couldn’t manage if I lived on my own.

in a hopeless state of mind

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

In a hopeless state of mind

I can’t sleep because of pain and too much on my mind. I keep reading people’s messages about the two people that died by suicide this week and the CDC supposed data that suicide is increasing. I don’t trust the CDC anymore because it fudged data just to push an agenda that hurt people like me with chronic pain.

Some of the messages I read concerned helplines. Do people think that talking with someone for five minutes can help a lifetime of anguish? Probably not. Can it bring enough hope so that person can see to tomorrow? Maybe.

The past few months I have wrestled and anguished with my own thoughts of death. Hell, the beginning of the week, I was tormented with psychache, spoke about it on social media, and then was reported. In the email from Twitter, it said that I could speak to a hotline and there are resources. I deleted the email. What it comes down to, is whether I seek help or not. My choice, really. No one else’s to make. Just like you, reading this. You don’t have to read my blog. No one is holding a gun to head saying to read Midnight Demon. We all have battles that we face, some bigger than others but that doesn’t make them any less of a battle. It could be drugs, alcohol, depression, suicide, mania, voices, paranoia, etc. Some times someone feels too good to get help. Some times someone feels too bad to get help. Others may not think they are worthy or are too afraid what others might think of them if they seek help.

If you have a problem, whatever it is, someone else might have it too. You are not alone. There are people who have alcohol issues, mania issues, depression, trauma, sexual abuse, physical abuse, etc. and live to face another day though they may not want to. Some people, like me, think of suicide often. And that is really scary to some people, so much so they think by reporting them or calling the cops on them is the answer. But let me tell you what happens when you don’t face that person and ask, how can I help or if you need to talk I am here. It shuts them down. That was their one chance of opening up these vulnerable feelings and you just slammed the door, possibly forever, of them ever talking about their dark side ever again. Reporting does not help. I got an email with a hotline and a link to a resource. Did I use it? No, I deleted it. Someone once reported my online activities to the police. The local cops came and scared the crap out of my aunt and pissed me the fuck off. You think I am going to write in my blog the same way again? Fuck no. And why? Because of people like you who are too stupid to understand someone else’s pain and despair. To sit with it and deal with it rather than throwing it at someone else because you can’t be the better person.

I may end my life one day and sadly, even though I talk about it on my blog, you will never know about it because of this one person that sent cops to my door one morning a few years ago. It shuts people down. So I understand why Kate Spade didn’t seek help. She was afraid. I can’t say anything about the other guy. I never heard of him until he died a couple days after Kate. Would either of them have called a hotline? Would either of them have opened the link to the resources that were provided to them? Probably not. Their battle was theirs alone. Their decision was theirs to make. I understand it because I have lived it time and time again. In one of the legal pads I was trying to find to write this down on, I came across a story I wrote that I later published. It is also on my blog (I think). It was about a night where I was in so much pain, I wanted to end my life. And though I had promised my therapist and psychiatrist that I would call them should I feel like ending my life, I didn’t. I had hotlines to call. I had coping skills to use. Instead I wanted to end my life right there and then because of the agony of my foot and ankle but because I couldn’t walk three friggen feet to my bureau, 36 inches away from me to get more pills to take to end my life, it saved me. I woke up and wondered what I did. I will never forget that fear and the shame I felt. I was scared to tell my therapist and psychiatrist what I went through. Terrified that I would be once again be on the psych unit of some hospital never to breathe fresh air again.

Lately, I have been saying, Always be kind. You never know who might need it and is depending on it to survive another day. If you are still reading this and not dialing 911, reach out in other ways. Call that friend you haven’t spoke to in a while that seemed to have stopped posting on social media. Or that friend that was supposed to go to a cookout but didn’t show up. They just might need to know that someone other than the demons in their head care for them. And be kind and non-judgmental. Ask them if they need help with something that is important to them. They might not tell you everything or they might not even want to talk, just listen. Sit with their darkness. It will mean the world to them.