Tag: psychache

Just Depressed

by Midnight Demon, posted in cauda equina syndrome, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders, psychache

Just depressed

For some reason the cough that I thought had gone away has returned with a vengeance. It is not helping my back pain at all. I feel horribly depressed that I can’t move without pain. To make matters worse, I don’t think I will be seeing my therapist on my birthday because there is a storm on its way to Boston and it will hit then. Just great. Mother nature hates me.

I really am dreading my birthday this year. I really just want to take my sister’s car and just leave town for the day. But I know my sister will need her car back. I probably would have left months ago if I had a car.

I keep thinking I don’t have anything to do tomorrow but I have two appointments. I have my dreaded PCP appointment and then I have PT. I am dreading the PCP appointment because I know he is going to say something about my weight. I plan on wearing light pants so I can weight less on his stupid scale. Maybe then he will be happy. Last time I didn’t care and wore heavy jeans and kept things in my pocket. I weighed 8 pounds heavier than my last appointment. He flipped out on me. But this time I will be seeing him not only for my med refill, but also because I have this cough and back pain. My prediction is that he not only is going to tell me to lose weight, but also that I have a viral infection. He’ll give me a script for my pain meds and then its see you next month.

I hope the bastard is on time because my appointment with PT is two hours from his and I need to catch a shuttle bus to get there. I was looking forward to this appointment but now I just don’t care. After the possible poking and prodding of my PCP, I know the PT is going to do the same thing, if not more prodding to assess my ankle. I will be lucky to walk out of there. I won’t be wearing my AFO. I have given up on wearing it. At this point (2 years later), I don’t think it is doing me any favors.

I just am really down today. I watch the Pats game and that made me feel worse. They played like shit but somehow got the win. It was a very ugly game. Brady (quarterback) got sacked like 4 times. I think if he had better protection, the game would have been different.

I really am not looking forward to my birthday in a few days. I wish it was today just to get it over with. I just want the hoo-hah to be done with. I am not looking forward to having my family give me gifts when I didn’t get them anything for their birthday. And I know my cousins and aunts are just going to give me the “this is your birthday and Christmas gift” like they do every year. I always get stiffed. When I was a kid, I always got birthday AND Christmas presents. But I don’t give a fuck this year. Let them say this and I will just be thankful to have something. It’s better than nothing, right?

pissed off therapy session

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

Pissed off therapy session

I took a nap before my therapy session which probably wasn’t the brightest idea in the book but oh well. I usually wake up just before session but this time I overslept and woke up to the phone ringing. Rats! I really wasn’t looking forward to talking to her today, especially after what “didn’t” get talk about yesterday.

I told her I didn’t see the point in seeing her and she told me this was a “place to process things”. I laughed. Really? Because that hasn’t happened in ages!! She dropped the issue and I didn’t want to pursue it anymore as I could feel my anger rising. I seriously don’t think she has a fucking clue as to how I am doing anymore. We spent the majority of the conversation talking about how many spoons are going to be spent dealing with my father over the next few days. That is all she seems to want to talk about lately: Spoons. “Spoons” is another word for energy spent on stuff. I got it from a lady with Lupus and you can read the article here. I thought that paper she wrote was typical of all that I go through on a daily basis, from getting dressed, to taking a shower, to making breakfast, etc.

Lately my “spoon” supply has been low and I guess dealing with my therapist just drains it lately. By mid session, I am wanting out of talking with her. I can’t stand 50 minute sessions with her anymore. They are driving me crazy when I don’t feel like talking. And I don’t feel like talking not because there is nothing to talk about, but because I am tired of the way therapy is. I thought that after a while, I would find therapy helpful and insightful. That it would bring meaning to my life but those are just fantasies that never get fulfilled. Granted the last 10 years have been tough with my suicidality and such. But you would think by now she would be used to it and handle it better. She doesn’t and it just makes me shut down. I feel more alone with every passing session because the one person in the world that should know me, doesn’t. I kept thinking about the Mockingbid song my Rob Thomas. The lyrics are stunningly close to how I feel about therapy. The Chorus is right on target:

Everybody else is smiling
Man, their smiles don’t fade
You don’t even wonder why
You just don’t think that way

Maybe you and me got lost somewhere
We can’t move on and we can’t stay here
Maybe we’ve just had enough
Well, maybe we ain’t meant for this love

You and me tried everything
But still that mockingbird won’t sing
Man this life seems hard enough
Well, maybe we ain’t meant for this love

We have tried everything to keep this therapy going. Consults, different therapy avenues, etc. But they never seem to help. I might get a transference session in where I talk about what is wrong with everything but then the next session is like I didn’t speak at all. Things are back to status quo. It really pisses me off. Now I am just hounded by thoughts of whether I should be here or not and I am again alone in dealing with them because my bozo therapist is too anxious to hear what I have to say. She doesn’t listen and she just talks the talk in circles now. I am not asking her to cure me of my thoughts but not having a place for them is really hurting me. But I understand that therapists have their own shit to deal with. But I just once wish that my therapist of 14 years would take a Xanax and let me talk. Otherwise, I think I will just give up therapy once and for all as much as it pains to be even type these words. There is getting nothing out of it if you cannot share your inner most, darkest, thoughts.

I have been down this road with my therapist for some time. It is a well beaten path. I just wish she would restrain herself some and listen more to what I have to say than get all bent out of shape when I mention suicide, or being gone, or leaving therapy. A seasoned therapist should know how to do this by now and I shouldn’t have to write this blog to get the message across, yet again…

Serious Pain

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

Serious pain

Yesterday, I sneezed and threw out my back. Today my back is still out and I am unable to stand straight without severe pain. Having this bloody cold is not helping my case. I only get relief from pain if I am lying down or sitting without moving any lower extremity muscles. I have taken my pain killers and muscle relaxants but they have not provided me with any real relief. And I am worried that I won’t be able to make my doctor’s appointment tomorrow with the dumb NP. I need to make this appointment because I need to get a refill on my pain meds. I am trying not to worry about it, thinking tomorrow is another day and I might be able to move better than I can right now. I hope so anyway. I haven’t been in this much pain since before my last surgery. It sucks not being able to move. I have tried to do the normal back exercises to ease some of the tension but they just cause me more pain. I really hope I didn’t move a disc out of whack. Last night, I got really paranoid that I was getting CES again because my left leg kept going numb on me. It is okay now and the pain is lessening, but I just need a few more days of rest before going out again. I don’t think I have that much time as I have just about 16 hours before my appointment. I don’t know what this dumb NP is going to do when I tell her I am in pain because I pulled my back out. I hope she doesn’t do the leg lifts because that will just aggravate my nerves like it always does. I am always paranoid when I hurt my back and they want to raise my legs. It aggravates my sciatic nerve and then I really won’t be able to walk out of the office. For now I am just going to relax the rest of the night and hope my bladder doesn’t get too full again that I need to use the bathroom. I just want to rest for a couple of hours straight and hope it helps me.

I missed the BPD chat tonight. I really wanted to attend but this damn pain is limiting my sitting time. Plus my dinner was ready around half way through the chat anyways. It took me a long time to get down the stairs and to eat. I didn’t even finish it all because I just wasn’t that hungry. My appetite with this cold and pain has limited my eating. I had to force myself to finish the scrambled eggs I made for lunch.

I wish I had a ride to the hospital tomorrow. That would help me greatly but I don’t. (My outpatient appointment is at the local hospital.) And I don’t have money for a cab. This just sucks. I hope I am better tomorrow. I hate being in this much pain.

Last night I came across something I wrote a while ago. I don’t know when I wrote it as I didn’t put a date on it. I hate when I don’t do that. But the content was something Hyde might have written. I got one comment on it, it said that I should “live”. Obviously, this person doesn’t know that I struggle with wanting to die on a consistent basis. The blog was called “don’t call me daughter”. I felt that was fitting as I know my mother is never going to call me her son. And that hurts me to no end. It just makes me want to die all the more because I know I will never be seen as a boy to her. She will never understand me. It hurts knowing this. She can tolerate my tomboyish features but won’t tolerate my facial hair or short boy hair cuts. My cousin has stopped cutting my hair because he doesn’t want to deal with the backlash from my mother. He still styles my hair in a “female” fashion and won’t go below a 2 on the clippers. Drives me nuts.

What drives my suicidality up lately has been pain and no sleep. I think taking the baclofen has helped my sleep. I just wish it helped my pain as well. Once my pain is under control, my suicidality decreases. But right now, with my back being out of sorts, I am kind of wishing I was dead. I hate being in this much pain and nothing helping me. It is making me feel hopeless. And feeling hopeless and suicidal is not a good mix. I hope that I can go to my appointment tomorrow and not be in horrific pain like I am in now. It will really suck because the office is a ways from the T stop.

Just found out one of my high school friends lost her mother last night. She had been battling cancer for sometime now and I guess her time was up. I feel bad for her. My friend is my sister’s age. I can’t imagine losing my mother, even though I can’t stand her at times. Sending out good thoughts and prayers to her family tonight.

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.