just a ramble

About an hour ago, my foot exploded in pain after I took an NSAID and some Neurontin. Now the pain is a little bit more manageable. I keep thinking over today’s events with the AAS conference tweets. I like that my Twitter buddies went to difference speaking engagements so you got different things. I especially liked the Marsha Linehan talk. She is a great person, though I didn’t like her at first. That was many years ago and at a time when DBT was the “thing” to do for people like me.

Now I would love to see CAMS to be the “thing” to do. But I don’t think I will ever find or convince my therapist to take a workshop on CAMS. She thinks her way is the right way and there is no more “learning” to be done because I do it. I am the suicidologist, not her. I think her attitude reflects most therapists that have become set in their ways. She is collaborative, don’t get me wrong and I am grateful for that but when it comes to my suicidality, it increases her anxiety and so I get shafted. I have to “limit” what I tell her so she doesn’t freak out. She has become better since the letter that I sent her last September. She is more willing to do what needs to be done in therapy to help me rather than hinder me. I give her credit for that. I know it wasn’t easy to give up my sessions this week. Whereas before, she wouldn’t think twice about canceling. It would be a no and that would be all. I would have had therapy whether I liked it or not.

I think next month I need to spend more money on my laptop because the cooling fan is going. I saw how it was to be replaced and it’s too complicated for me. I am going to ship it back to Dell and use my old laptop. I should make sure that it works before I send this off. I changed the battery on it because it needed a new one. That was the easy part. I am just grateful I have a backup laptop that I can use for what I need. I know internet explorer is useless on it. There is a problem with the hard drive that makes it impossible to update windows. I never got a new hard drive because it’s a pain re-installing everything.

I emailed my psychiatrist and told her I wasn’t going to the hospital because there was zero data supporting that it would be helpful or useful for me. All it would do is babysit me and I don’t need to be babysat. The last time I was in the hospital, my psych thought it would be “helpful” for the team to know that my father was sick and that I was his “caretaker”. I went in there because I couldn’t handle being transgender, or being in chronic pain all the time. I went there for my needs not my father’s. I was pissed that she brought it up. And it’s not like they were doing psychotherapy with me, though I am sure they were billing my insurance company for it. It’s just stupid. I rather go to the city hospital and stay there for a few days. It will be worse as I won’t have any electronics to play with, including the use of my cell phone.

There are a lot of things that I need to talk to my therapist about and I hope that we don’t talk fifty minutes of my father’s ailments. I don’t mind talking to my psych about my father because we just briefly talk about him and then we talk about my symptoms and how I am doing with it. We don’t spend the whole time talking about my father’s problem. My therapist is the crazy one. We always talk about the same things with my father. It’s never different because his ailment doesn’t change. He is a sick man and will probably die within a year if he continues to deteriorate. I have come to terms with that. My therapist just doesn’t see it and wants to talk about it like it’s so very important, thus avoiding my other side, the depression and subsequent suicidality.

I feel like taking a handful of Neurontin tonight. I just want oblivion. Maybe I will take a high enough dose and see what happens. My luck, nothing will happen.

Soap Opera Season has Begun

Soap Opera Season Has Begun

It’s only day three of Spring training for the Red Sox and already it’s turning into a circus. Hanley can’t handle a throw from shortstop so gave Boegarts an error. I am lucky I didn’t see it because I would have been pissed. I am pissed just hearing about it. Then later this evening, a female Sox reporter resigns because her love life can’t include a member of the Sox. Supposedly she had relations with the skipper, Farrell. Whether these relations are continuing or have ended, hasn’t been publicly announced. I don’t understand what business it is for the press to be involved in such matters but they are just looking for a story. And it has begun. I am sure the drama at first base will continue as well as this developing story of the skipper’s love life. I wonder if baseball is going to get covered at all…

I texted my therapist several time today. I was giving her updates on the status of my appointment with my psychiatrist, which I still don’t have. My psych has not responded to the multiple emails I have sent her. I waited a good amount of time for a response. We’ll see if I get one on Monday. I am not going to bother emailing on the weekend, unless something comes up.

I also told my therapist that a slime ball inspirational speaker wants to meet my ex-therapist. I don’t know why I should care but I do. I wanted to respond with “yea, he is a great guy (therapist), but you are an asshole” but I didn’t. This guy, the speaker, pisses me off and I don’t know why. I am sure jealousy is an element on some level. He wrote a book about his experience with jumping off a bridge and surviving. When he was a teen. He is now an adult. I just find his story suspicious and every one is oooing and ahhhing over him. I understand how it is to go through a suicidal episode but you cannot tell me that he hasn’t once thought of ending his life since that day he was rescued. That he is “cured” of being suicidal. And I think that is what pisses me off about him, that he is selling something that isn’t true. I have never heard his story or read his book, so I really don’t know if there have been other suicidal episodes that he discloses. And yes I will admit to being jealous because I too wrote a book about my experience and got fucking no where with it. The only time I get an acknowledgement from the same people this clown hangs around with is when I write academic papers. Other than that, people don’t want to hear my daily struggle with suicide.

I am glad I have this blog because, honestly, I have met some pretty great people that are better than these professionals that I have met on Twitter. There is one clinician that will acknowledge me every now and then, but it’s mostly my physical pain that he responds to. I don’t know when I became a bitter person. Probably when the lab shafted me after 14 years of giving them 110% every time I worked no matter my mental or physical illness was doing to me. I was a body to them and a brain they needed to sort through the shit and foul ups of others. I’ll never forget when a resident came by the lab with four tubes of CSF and had no fucking clue what she wanted tested but expected us to know. Then when one of the tests were short, she didn’t know the difference between mad cow disease and Alzheimer’s. Really??? You are post medical school and studying neurology and you don’t know the fucking difference between these two diseases other than they affect the brain?? I memorized her name because I didn’t want to go near her. Course it has been some time now and I have forgotten it. My memory is not the same as it once was. I do know she became a pedi-neuro. Pretty scary that some parent is going to be trusting her with the life of the child.

Oh and before I forget, again, my oldest niece just published her first paper on E. Coli. I am so proud of her. It was a very HUGE accomplishment and there was a huge collaboration as the author lists just go on and on. She is listed as an acknowledgement but that is still pretty good.

I read the “do I need therapy” blog tonight because my therapist wanted me at my last session. I think it was a stupid blog because I repeated myself several times. I still don’t know what point I was trying to make. Maybe that I felt obligated to be in therapy because I feel like I owe my therapist that much. And I don’t mean monetarily wise. Like I told her in that session, I could owe her nothing yet I still would feel like I did.

My back is really hurting me. I need to lie down but if I go to sleep now, I know that I will wake up at three in the morning. I also want to keep checking my blog stats because I am 4 views away from 60,000. I haven’t taken any pain meds yet. I will once I feel a little more settled down. I got a lot on my brain.

I wonder if I should be in the hospital. I have been against it because there is no treatment there. You just get watched and drugged up and then sent home. Plus with my pain meds, they always fuck it up and I need to request it the way I take it at home rather than how it is written. I have been telling my PCP to change it even before he left but he still just left it at 1 pill every 6 hours. I usually take 2 pills twice a day, some times more, sometimes less. It all depends on what my level of pain is. He knows this and never changed it so I am screwed. Now he is gone and no one asks me if my meds are adequate. But the hospital won’t see it that way. I always get stigmatized about it. And don’t get me started on the pain scale I have to fill out at every single dose. That pisses me off more than the fuck up. Then I got to pack appropriately, write out my medication list, and be sure I can carry all the stuff on the public transportation. Last time I brought a backpack and a carry on. I was in an AFO at the time, so it took some maneuvering to carry everything. My bags were full because I had to carry at least a book or two in addition to my journal. I also carried a notepad with me just in case writing hit me. It’s been almost a year and a half since my last hospitalization but I remember it as if it were yesterday. I don’t really care what becomes of my father’s medication if I do go in. It’s not that hard, really. My sisters could do it if they chose to.

Random 234

Random 234

I haven’t been able to nap all day. It’s probably going to be a long day if I don’t get some sleep. My back has been bothering me most of the day more than my thigh or foot/ankle. I guess it didn’t like it when I emptied my trash can in my room. So my plans for going out today got smashed to smithereens. I think I am getting a cold anyways so resting is probably the best thing I can do for now. I also increased my vitamin D. I really don’t want to get a chest thing. I hate having a cold. It’s evil. And there is nothing you can do about it until it passes. But my sleep being off and not really drinking enough has really brought my defenses down. Maybe I will make some chamomile tea in a little bit.

I was reading Twitter and the Menninger Clinic published some data that proved some data decreased depression. I read the article and the inpatient length of stay was 45 days. I had to fricken laugh because you are lucky to be inpatient for at least 48 hours around here. If I was hospitalized for 45 days or so, I think my depression might decrease as well. Even if you have the best insurance, you are not going to be hospitalized or receive “treatment” on an inpatient unit for 45 days and you are definitely not going to get any follow up care. There just aren’t enough psych units or beds to hold someone for 45 days. There are enough backups in the psych ED and other hospital ERs that are looking for beds. There is a real crisis and I don’t think these outcomes this particular clinic has is representative of the system. And if they think they are, they are just fooling themselves.

I didn’t receive a call from my doctor’s office like I was supposed to. I didn’t call either. I will wait till I see my PCP on Wednesday. It’s going to be a lot to cram in as it’s my last visit with him. I might call on Monday and see what the hold up is. I knew getting seen within a week was a fallacy, especially when I didn’t see my doctor to begin with. I’m too depressed to care.

I’m tired of fighting pain all the time. I don’t know when my back pain is going to get resolved. I will have a conniption if I am sent back to physical therapy for it. I can do the exercises at home, I know them by heart. It won’t help at all and might even harm me. I think I just need a good massage, especially in the back of my hip.

I still want to go ahead with my plan to end my life. I just don’t see the point of going on when I am either facing increased pain and misery or going under the knife again and facing permanent disability again. I just can’t face it.

The Struggle is Real

The struggle is real

I got papers from the SSA today. I am under review to see if I am still disabled. I might have to see their doctors and the whole process has me very nervous. I am still under a deep depression and still want to kill myself. If that isn’t being disabled, I don’t know what is. I struggle to do most things lately. Just going to my doctor’s office today to get my prescription left me exhausted. I had to take a nap. Then I woke up and I was in more pain than I was in. I think the pain meds wore off. I hate that I have to take them sometimes around the clock to keep the pain in check. I don’t know how I can be seen as “fit to work”. I still have the delusions about the bad people in the Middle East. Just before going to sleep, I was thinking about it and what I would tell the doctor. I don’t think anyone believes my story. If I have to see a physical doctor, I think I would be screwed. I am in pain but not in enough pain during the day. I just hope my mental disability is enough to keep me on SSA.

I have been so depressed lately. I just stay in my PJs all day. I never really get dressed unless I have to go out. It takes me a long time to figure out what I am wearing, even though it’s pretty much the same clothes it was the last time I went out. The weather is somewhat warmer, which is weird for November. It reached 60 degrees F. today. It’s better than the cold weather we had last week.

My cousin has been trying to reach me. He is the one with bipolar disorder and physically healthy but makes me do the damn stairs when my mother goes shopping. He drives me nuts because every time I talk with him, it’s the same thing. He asks me several times how I am doing, then we talk about our money issues or lack there of. The struggle with depression. Then he hangs up. I don’t get it. He left me a message the other night like he hasn’t talked to me in years. It was very strange. I never called him back. I just don’t feel like talking to people. And tomorrow I am supposed to go to my little cousin’s birthday party. I really don’t feel like being around family, especially my mother’s side. If my ankle hurts at all, I am not going. I feel bad for not seeing my other cousin from Texas but I got to take my health in consideration. I have a lot of cousins on my mother’s side of the family. And the family still is growing. My cousin Jonny’s girlfriend is pregnant so there will be another little one around. They don’t stay little forever. I remember when Jonny was little. He is almost 30 now.

I wrote on my papers that I sleep a lot. I just don’t have the energy like I used to. I didn’t even write in my journal when I went out this morning. I brought it with me in case I did, but I didn’t. I always carry it with me because if I don’t, I will want to write. I did write in my “night” journal before I took a nap. I have to write something a little each day so that I am not far behind. Because I use my blog so much as my journal, I sometimes don’t actually write.

I have decided that after this month, I am not keeping up with the Quote of the Day blogs. I am having trouble finding quotes from Shneidman. I could use other authors but I really like Shneidman because it keeps with my blog, which centers around suicidality. I also wrote that on my SSA papers that I am suicidal a lot. I haven’t been in the hospital in a year but that doesn’t mean that I won’t in the future. In fact, I am thinking of going soon because I feel so lousy. But I need to go with my father for some medical appointments so it will need to go after that. My sister will have to do his meds. I don’t care which sister it is. He won’t care that I am in the hospital. As long as his needs are met, that is the important thing. He doesn’t care about me or my issues.

I really don’t want to go to the hospital, only because I take a lot of medication and I am afraid like last time, there will be more to take than what I am currently on. They always split up one of my blood pressure medicines so instead of taking one pill, I take 4. I might bring the bottle with me so that they can use it and I don’t have to take so many pills. I don’t really care that I will be babysat or that at night the idiot will shine a light in my eyes to see if I am alive. I hate that bitch, but whatever. Complaining never does anything. That is if I get on the unit I want. Last time I had to wait and actually go to the hospital to get a bed there. That meant hauling my stuff via the public transportation system. It was rough. I only had two bags but they were full. This time I might bring a suitcase so I just carry one bag. I hate packing for the hospital. But for whatever reason, it “knocks” me into staying longer. Only thing that will suck is that I can’t have sessions with my therapist because she is not a member of the hospital system. We can talk for a little bit but that is all. It’s just disruptive. I don’t do anything different than I do when I am inpatient. I might go to the groups if they interest me but mostly they don’t because they are DBT based or they are arts and crafts. I don’t do arts and crafts. I think it’s stupid. But most people like it for whatever reason. On weekends they have psychotherapy group. I wish they had that during the week. It would help so much. But I guess because the “team” caregivers aren’t around, they have the therapy group. I just feel mixed about going. My treaters don’t know that I am thinking about this. If they did, they would encourage me to go in. But I just feel like I can handle things on my own, even though I know I am going in a downward spiral. The pain is just not going away, the psychological pain. And it is the trigger for my suicidality. Pain, perturbation, and press. Those are the three things that Shneidman says are necessary for suicide, in addition to frustrated needs not being met. Right now I just know I am hurting and struggling to breathe. I feel like I am drowning and no one is watching me go down.