Tag: psychache

Waking up Early and other things

I have been up since around 0630. I got about five hours of sleep as I went to bed around 0130. I emailed my neurologist last night because I am running low on my medication for nerve pain. I don’t take it often so the refills have expired. Just got a response from her. As I suspected, I need to see her to get the meds. UGH. I hate dealing with her office staff. I could try and get it from my PCP. I see the NP the 26th so I will wait until then. I have enough to keep me going until then. If she doesn’t give me it, I will make an appointment to see the neuro.

I plan on changing my sheets today. It’s something that needs to happen but it always is a pain in the ass to do because of my back issues. I always throw out the back of my hip when I change the sheets. But then, I can stand too long and it will go out on me, too. I still haven’t gotten it checked out. It has been a problem for me for the past year. I took it out last Thanksgiving when I sneezed. It got better but then I sneezed after Christmas and it went out again. I have been in pain ever since. This time I am going to try and not keep so much stuff in my “office” side of the bed. That will make it easier to change the sheets because then I don’t have to keep moving stuff around.

I also want to work on the story I wrote a few weeks ago. I am loaded with good coffee so I hope it makes me want to write. I am trying to avoid going back to sleep so I had coffee. I won’t be going to the Square because I need to pick up my niece later today. But I need to change the sheets first. That is a priority.

I got a lot of views on my paper on the analysis of the song “How to save a life”. And most of the viewing from countries today have been from Ireland. I like that my blog has international readers. It means a lot to me to have readers from other countries reading my blog. Granted the majority of my readers are from the US. But today, Ireland is the top country. It could change over the course of the day. I love watching my stats because it’s fun. I learn through the search engine what readers brought them to my blog and then I can have a post about the search so that other readers, usually those with Cauda Equina Syndrome, can find my blog easier. My all time most read blog is my Knackered post.

I have therapy again today. I texted her with some things that I thought about. I got interrupted so many times yesterday with family stuff that I wasn’t able to write about it. I had started a blog with ideas and rather than sending it to her, I just texted her because it was easier. It was only a few things and it fit on a text. I hope that we can continue the conversation. After 14 years, it will be very difficult not to be in contact with her if we end. Our 15th anniversary date is in January.

Because I am feeling very hopeless and my therapist asked me to, I have put off the date that I was going to end my life. I feel defeated because now I will have to continue to live when I don’t want to. And because of the holidays, I don’t want to end my life then, which means I will have to see my next birthday. It was something I have been trying to avoid this past year. I wanted to stay 39 forever. It shouldn’t be so complicated, but it is. I hate living. It is such a damn struggle all the time. And the thought that I keep having bowel accidents doesn’t appeal to me for living. I have tried to deal with this stuff the best I could but I am so tired. I get no relief from the daily physical pain I have. I am tired of people telling me I need to lose weight when I don’t have the motivation to or the mobility to do so. I wish I could walk like I used to but I can’t. If I could, I wouldn’t be disabled from work. I know my job was stressful and it caused me to be very suicidal at times, but least it gave me something to look forward to every day. It gave me some purpose. Now I have none of that. Sure, I write but other than this blog, I doubt people would buy my book. It’s really depressing and powerful writing that no one sees or understands. It’s not a hopeful book. How can I write about hope when I don’t have any? I just think my death is the only way out of this misery that I am in.

Last night I was writing in my new journal. I was describing what I am saying right now. I might have to go into the hospital because I feel like I am going to snap. One more trigger and I am afraid I might go into constriction and then I will attempt to take my life. But I really don’t want to go there. Just the thought of the bullshit and my meds being split up because they don’t have the right tablet dose keeps me away. I take 12 pills a night. Last time I was in the hospital I had to take almost 16 pills. It was the same medication, but they didn’t have my BP med in a 40 mg tablet so they split it in 10 mgs tablets. That is four pills I had to take. I don’t know if they will have my other BP med in the dose. I would hate to take fucking another 4 pills for that, too. But there is no treatment while you are in the hospital. You just go to groups that are for arts and crafts, mostly. There is no psychotherapy going on in any of these groups or even in the meetings with your case worker. It’s just an adult babysitting system. Someone checks on you every 15 minutes and you talk with staff, which turns out usually to be better than talking with your case worker and psychiatrist. If I go to the unit I was before, that is how it is. If I go to another unit, you just get 15 minutes with the “team” and that is all. Sometimes you meet with your staff person, sometimes you don’t. It sucks. I rather just stay outpatient and struggle than be inpatient. Least I can have my electronics and not be watched.