Tag: psych hospital

One Great Mystery

by Midnight Demon, posted in chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders, suicide

One Great Mystery

“One Great Mystery” is a new song off Lady Antebellum’s new album, 747. It’s lyrics has struck a cord with me as I don’t know what I did to make my therapist “fall for me”. Tonight I am reminded of the time, many years ago, that I first encountered her stubbornness. I was in another suicidal depression and I so wanted to get rid of her. I felt like therapy was worthless because I was feeling such things. I was so into my suicidal mind that I was planning for my death and yet I wanted to make sure she was taken cared of. So the journal that I subscribed to had an article in it on therapists survivor group. She wouldn’t even accept the paper I was handing her, she couldn’t accept my eminent death, much less going to see a therapist for her grief. She really didn’t want me to die. Yet with every fiber of my being, I wanted to. I just couldn’t face life. It hurt too much. I was tired, extremely tired of fighting the battle of depression month after month, day in and day out. It is exhausting just putting a smile on your face when all you want to do is hide from the world. Yet somehow, some way, she got me through that episode. It was difficult work. I was almost as stubborn as she is. I had to consistently keep in contact with her via text message about how I was doing. I would write her the most awful of text messages. But it was a way to let her know I was still around. Long as I sent her a text, it meant I was still fighting this battle I so wanted to end.

During one horrific suicidal place that lasted for about three long weeks, I asked her if she would tell me that she loved me. I needed to hear that if I was to survive. So toward the end of session she would say it, and it would always surprise me. I was taken aback that she complied. Who does that?? And I could tell in her voice she was sincere. I knew that I had to keep on doing this thing called living. It’s like the song by Garth Brooks, “learning to live again”. One of the lines is “learning to live again is killing me”. And it was. I can’t describe the battle of death vs life that was going inside of me. I so wanted to die but I had my goofy therapist wanting me to live. My “kids” that needed me for their various things. And my sisters who need a person to vent to. When I was working, it was always responsibility to my job, though I planned on killing myself at work because I hated the place. Even though they tried to promote they were for taking care of your pain, they really didn’t. If I didn’t have a caring PCP, I would be screwed. I know that I would have ended my life years ago had my PCP turn me down for opioid therapy.

My therapist knew this. She and my psychiatrist know that my physical pain drives my suicidal tendencies to the limit. And when I don’t have a break, I get into a very depressive state that is hard to get out. Luckily, with my last hospitalization I was put on an antidepressant. If I wasn’t on it, I doubt it would have lifted my depression and suicidal thoughts.

But my therapist is great, as much as I call her a bozo and a PITA (pain in the ass). I know I wouldn’t be here without her persistent nature.

don’t call me daughter

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, psychache, suicidality, suicide attempt, transgender

Don’t call me daughter

Just recently, I was discharged from the hospital because of a suicide attempt. The self hate of being in the wrong body grew to unbelievable proportions. I hated my body, myself, my breasts, and my menstrual cycle. I just couldn’t take it anymore. The self-loathing I felt was unimaginable. I don’t know what set me off. That was one of the first questions I was asked when I was in the hospital but it was a cascade of everything in my life from being disabled to being transgender. I didn’t care anymore. I still don’t. I don’t want to live my life in a hole anymore. Sure, I talk about being transgender on my blog but my mother doesn’t know. She will NEVER accept me for being her son. And that hurt is what drives me to suicide. I’d rather die as her daughter than as her son.

missed meds

by Midnight Demon, posted in depression, mood disorders, suicide attempt

here is a blog that i think all of us can relate to:

http://www.mentalparent.com/mental-illness/missed-meds#.VBigf44pDFp

ramble 628

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

I had therapy today. I have to say that this new development has my therapist’s curiosity piqued. We tried talking about it today but there was nothing new. Things have settled down some and I think I am back to being “me” again. She didn’t have a chance to read the letter I wrote her last night. I just told her the contents and thankfully, I didn’t have to read it to her.

Though it is still early for the poll to close, the majority of people that voted (9) wants me to continue this blog. So I will write every day, even if I don’t feel like. But there maybe some days that I am unable to write. Tomorrow is one of those days. I am hoping that the stress of the day won’t stir things up. I have my father’s appointment in the morning. I hope the doc is on time or close to it, as last time we were there almost all morning. Granted my father was late getting there so that didn’t help matters. If we manage to get out before 12 I will go to my second home (Starbucks) and also will be bringing my laptop so I can blog, possibly, or write in my journal. I have slightly given up on the short story collection book that I have been working on. I found out they don’t do well. I still haven’t heard from the agent. It has been a little more than a week now. I am half expecting an email saying “sorry not interested” or something to that effect. I have 3.5 weeks left to know of an interest.

Funny thing is, I don’t think I have told my therapist this bit of information, LOL. Since we have been dealing with the DID stuff, I really have time to tell her or mention it. I guess if something happens by chance and I do get an agent, then I will let her know.

I have to take a shower today. Thing is I don’t want to because my ankle is acting up. I took some pain meds so if it calms down enough and I have a window of no pain, I will try and take advantage and shower. That is how my life has become. Usually taking it in the morning is better than during the day or evening. But sometimes if I take a morning shower, it drains me and I won’t be able to do anything the rest of the day. And tomorrow I need all my spoons with me so no shower. It has to be tonight at the latest.

I was singing to one of the Luke Bryan songs on my MP3. I was just mouthing the words because I know my mother wouldn’t be able to hear me anyways. She now thinks I am “happy”. She also bitched that I don’t help her around the house. Well, I got a bad ankle so I can’t do much. She said she was “lazy” and doesn’t know why. I can tell her why but she wouldn’t like it. She is overweight and depressed. And for someone that has COPD, that isn’t good. But does she do anything about it? NOOOOO. She also is in chronic pain with her knees and back. Does she take something for it? Nope. Not even so much as an aspirin. Fucking kills me that she is so stubborn. There are medications out there to help her and she just doesn’t want to be on them. I can understand. I was there where she was. But I wouldn’t be able to function, at all, if I didn’t take the pills I take, including my psych meds. Sure, I have problems paying for my meds, everyone does, but she also has diabetes and her insulin is ridiculously expensive. It pisses me off that her test strips are free but her insulin costs an arm and a leg. She needs her insulin more than she needs the test strips!

Today is National World Suicide Prevention Day. One of my groups, the depression and chronic illness one, a woman was saying all she thought about was suicide 100%. I gave her the suicide number to call as well as the text number in case she felt more comfortable with that. I then find out through one of the admins that we lost two group members through suicide the past two weeks. You can lead a horse to water but you can’t force them to drink.

It is weird that a month ago, I was wallowing in the depths of suicidal depression and it wasn’t until I started back on an antidepressant that I started feeling better. I still was suicidal during the first few weeks, and especially after Robin Williams died. I remember writing to my writing partner, saying it was my turn now. I was in the hospital so there was no way I could try. And after I left, I found I didn’t want to try. I still had the ideas in my head, but the motive behind them were not as strong as they were the first couple of weeks in the hospital. So even though I didn’t get the support I wanted, the hospital did do something.