Tag: psychache

rambling 60

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

I really have no gas today, despite waking up at the god awful hour of five. I had no reason to be up at this hour, other than a slight pain on my pinky toe. I must have had a blister on it or something and it dissipated but I am left with pain. Thank you nerve pain. You cannot tell me that my foot isn’t messed up with mixed nerve signals anymore. There is just so many random things that happen with it. One minute (or more than a few) it is ice cold, then next burning red hot. Other times it is throbbing like I bang it or something. I gave up trying to figure out what I do to make it hurt the way it does. If I stand it doesn’t hurt too much but then I don’t feel the pain right away so who knows. If I walk too much, I won’t know until the next day if I did too much. I just never know what it is going to be. And then I will have a day or two of no pain. Of it acting like my right foot except for the constant tickle that I feel everyday, which is manageable, I hardly know my foot is there.

But I do have to be protective of it. I have to make sure I don’t expose it to extreme temperatures, too hot or too cold and I am going to hurt. I give up. Yet I suffer either way. It just feels so hopeless. And I have become helpless. All I can do is take my pain medication. It is the only thing that helps me. No other medication has helped and I have been on several.

It looks like I might be in the clear with the menses situation. I hope so. I am starting to feel a lift in my mood and that usually changes when things stop. I hope so because if I have another suicidal attack I think I will act on it this time. I just am so tired of fighting it all the time. I know that will push my book back further but what choice do I have? I also know that attempting might mean a hospitalization longer than two weeks and mean that I might spend the holidays inpatient. Oh well, not like that hasn’t happened before. It will be 18 years since my last serious suicide attempt. I still remember it as if it was yesterday. But things were different back then than they are now. Treatment in the hospital is like an inpatient office visit than an actual helpful place. Your “team” meets with you for fifteen minutes and that is supposed to help you? So if you start feeling better to the nursing staff, and they feel you are not a threat, you go home. That is how is works now. No doctors making real decisions, sure they cover it so that it looks that way but it really isn’t.

I am not sure I want to go in the hospital with an attempt. They watch you closer than they do when you go in without one. And you get out quicker. I have yet to see someone attempt and be out in three days time. I am sure it happens but not at the place that I go.

Regarding my book, for those following my blog: I did one paragraph today and organized my ending a little bit. I want to get it to be at least eight pages long so I have four pages to go before that happens. I will work on it tomorrow, I hope. If my motivation comes. I have to see my pdoc tomorrow so maybe I can do some writing before hand.

can’t sleep

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

I am writing this after being up for almost an hour now. I woke up from my “nap” at six in the evening and now I find that I can’t go back to sleep. I am tired so I know that I can but something is keeping me up so I thought I would write for a bit.

I got my new suicidology book, Treating Suicidal Behavior today. One of the reviews on Amazon said that it was wordy. Now I know that to be true but I wanted to read more about the commitment to living piece that I read in another article by the same writers. This little tidbit is not going in my book. It’s not that I don’t understand it, it is just that it goes against my grain to list it. And my book mostly deals with David Jobes. I like his work better. He doesn’t follow a specific discipline such as cognitive behavior therapy.

my therapist wants me to write up a CTS (commitment to treatment statement) but I am not up to it. Already I feel like I am pushing her in ways she doesn’t want to be pushed, that I again have to take charge of my treatment when this woman should already be doing that. It is exhausting. Taking charge of your own treatment is exhausting. Friday when I see my pdoc, I am going to tell her I want to be on Remeron again. if only for a few weeks. I need to sleep through the night and I am not. I just feel that maybe if I take a little antidepressant, it might work enough so I don’t kill myself this month. Though I really don’t want to live to see 2014. I really don’t. I am not prepared. I wasn’t expecting to live this long and I am. Can’t that be a statement? That if I don’t want to live anymore I have the right to end my life? I think it will be easier than trying to come up with a statement that is for living that I know is just going to sit on my therapist’s desk and not go anywhere. Yes we will sign it and all will be good for that session. Then the next session will go back to talking about stupid things and we will forget about our agreement that we made the session before. I could get crafty. But that will involve thinking more than I should. I just don’t want to be here anymore and if I don’t know why I don’t want to be here anymore, there is no point in going on. yes we can say that my childhood is the reason why I don’t want to be here. I was abused in more ways than one and thought about death all the time because I wanted to escape that living situation. I still want to escape. I want to escape from the pain and darkness that has invaded my soul.

I didn’t write this in a word document like I usually do. I am kind of anal about my blogs and how they are organized. but sometimes you just have to free write. 19 days.13 to end this. maybe my story about ending my life will become true.

dark clouds circling upon me

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, psychache, suicide

I just got finished reading some more of Touched with Fire. I keep reading this book and wondering, is this me? Because the descriptions of the melancholy and the mixed states could be more like me than I have been letting on. I am not saying I need to be on more medication or anything but wow, I never thought I was truly bipolar until I read this book again.

I came across my favorite quote from Tolstoy, “I myself did not know what I wanted. I was afraid of life, I struggled to get rid of it, and yet I hoped for something from it”. I think that is going to be the first line of my book, if I can get it approved. I don’t know how to do that but I will figure it out.

Funny how I wrote a hopeful blog about seeing my future and now all I see are dark clouds circling me. I am tired. I am in pain. My foot is hurting me as if there is no tomorrow. I have taken my meds but they have not kicked in quite yet. I want to end my life because I just cannot go on this way. This heaviness in my chest must cease if I am to survive. I am sure that if I see my doctor he will tell me that I must lose weight. But it is not a visible weight that you can see that is on me. It is to the left of my sternum, under my ribs that I feel this pressure just above my heart. It stifles my lungs. I have to force air in and out to keep myself breathing otherwise I fear I will stop and suffocation is no way to die. It is a painful way to die. I don’t know when the heaviness began. It seems to have reared its ugly head when I was reading about my melancholy and my mixed states. Now I am flooded with emotion that no one else can feel. It is a powerful feeling to write when you feel you are dying. Maybe I have another diagnosis called hypochondria. But this weight is too much to bear. It bored down on you like a heaviness you just cannot explain. Its tightness wraps around your heart and tries to squish it. My whole left side feels weak. I am too tired to fight it. If it is going to kill me, let it be quickly. But maybe the heaviness is trying to stifle the thousand wounds that have been inflicted upon my heart. Either way it is very unbearable and despairing and frightening. I know it is not a sign of a heart attack because I would not be so lucky to die of that. I am not sweaty. I am not short of breath. I just have a 100 pound weight on my chest that no one can see. And I am afraid should it be long continued it will kill me.

thinking of my future is so not me

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

You know, I never really thought ahead with time before. I found that if I did it overwhelmed me too much so I always stuck with today or the hour or sometimes the minute because I had to. But now with this book that is turning into my baby, I am finding myself looking forward to the future more. Totally a weird sensation. I am not saying this makes me less depressed. It makes me a little less suicidal or have suicidal thoughts that float more rather than linger.

Today I have been in a weird space. I had a good session with my therapist and for some reason it put me in a good mood. Now I am wondering if I am hypomanic because I am in a good mood and have been up since 5. Things with the hypomania can spiral out of control quickly so if I am not my usual pessimistic self I tend to worry.

My writing friend said that I should write about this weird sensation but I am finding it difficult to because it is so not like me to think about the future. Usually my future is pitch black. I don’t have one. I know everyone does, but for a LONG time I just didn’t. Thinking about the future brought worry and anxiety. I had to get through today first and that was always difficult enough so I stopped thinking about future things. I still think that I can get my degree and my doctorate and be the therapist that I want to be. I know that I don’t want to be old and gray though, too. I have Alzheimer’s on both sides of my family so I know there is a good chance that I might get it. I already am having trouble with memory. I often write things and I forget that I write them. I don’t know if it is the dark side or just another part of me that was in the moment and I had these ideas. I am sure when I look back on this post, I am going to be like WTF, I wrote this?? That is so unlike me! And it is and that is what is weird.

My friend also thought that I don’t reward myself because of my suicidality. I have been suicidal for so long that I don’t think I can look past a month at a time without fearing losing my life. It’s like I am a Klingon and wake up every morning asking is this the day I am going to die? People don’t understand this. I know my family would be watching me like a hawk if they had any clue just how suicidal I have been the past few months. And the past two days I have felt like I have been in an alternate reality or something because thinking of my future is so not me. But this book that I am writing and sort of slaving over has given me a different perspective. I want to see this book published. I want to see this book successful. If I sell 100 copies, I will be happy, least for a little while. But I didn’t go on disability to be a successful writer. The bad stuff is still under the surface. I was re-reading “Touched with Fire” and came across a quote from Hugo Wolf “I appear at times merry and in good heart, talk too, before others quite reasonably and it looks as if I felt, too. God knows how well within my skin, yet the soul maintains its deathly sleep and the heart bleeds from a thousand wounds”. This is so true of me. I appear to be merry, cheerful, happy to the outside world but inside I am tormented and my heart bleeds. Nothing can stop the bleeding. I thought that working on this book would help the ache, and it has to some degree but it is still there. I might not be feeling it 100% of the time, all the time, but it is still there. I can’t deny it anymore than I can deny my foot pain that also is my nemesis. I am my own worst enemy. But today I can say that I am more a friend.