Tag: psychache

They say not to use the word “demons”

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

They say not to use the word “demons”

In recent news about suicide, attempt survivors are asking that the word “demons” not be used and that the real “thing” be used. I forgot the term as it was many days ago and I don’t have that much of an attention span that I used to have. It got me thinking about my blog as the word “demons” is used.

I don’t really care what these people say, I am still going to have my blog and though I don’t talk about the “demons” in my blog, I mostly talk about how I feel, which is often suicidal. These suicidal tendencies often come out in the middle of the night, when I can’t sleep, and when I am in pain. I would write some horrible stuff and get a lot of people concerned.

Tonight the “demons” are out. I am hating everyone that has kept me alive the past few weeks. Though I could kill myself now. It doesn’t make a difference with the time frame. I am in excruciating pain and just want to end things. I am so tired of fighting pain. It used to be just psychological that the fight was about. Now, it is both physical and psychological and I am sorry but I can’t keep fighting both. It is too hard. I know that I will feel better in the morning, when I get a few hours of sleep. But right now I could write an email to my psychiatrist and tell her how much I hate her for keeping me alive. I could text my therapist with the same hate. But instead of doing that, I am just going to blog until I fall asleep.

What makes my life so special that I can’t commit suicide? Robin Williams was special. He did the deed. So do a lot of people, every year. They say that 39,000 people will take their life in a year in the US. And the number of attempts are in the hundreds of thousands. Or maybe it is a hundred thousand. We just won’t know because it is so underreported. Many people survive their attempt and often don’t seek medical attention afterward. It is so hard to kill the human body. It boggles my mind when I hear of homicide, though. Seems like that should be higher than suicide but it is not (and please correct me if I am wrong).

But aside from the global effect of Williams’ death, I still feel like it is my turn to die. I really don’t want to live knowing I am going to be in pain the rest of my life. It’s too much of a burden to think about. But I am lucky that all I need are a few pain pills to ease my pain. It doesn’t get rid of the pain entirely, but just enough that it takes the suicidal feelings away. I just took these meds but it takes a half hour or more to work. Chronic pain is a big risk factor for suicide. I know because I live with it every day. My treaters know that. That is why I am hating them at this moment. My foot is throbbing up a storm. I don’t know if it has to do with the weather change. My body can’t tolerate huge gaps of temperature changes. But I have no control over that and I am not about to move to another state. Yes, moving to California might help my pain but it will be isolating because I have a few friends there and most of my family are here. Isolation and being suicidal do not mix. That is why I stay at home. It is a preventative factor for my suicidal brain.

I don’t know why I am up at 3 in the morning. I woke up in pain and still my pain meds have not kicked in. The “demons” are still around me, wanting me to try and take my life. But that will involve getting out of my cozy bed and I am too tired and in too much pain to do so. I guess you can say I am too lazy to take my life. So I write about it instead. I won’t write about the methods that have been swirling around my brain. But one of them include the method Williams chose. He is a brave person. It takes a lot to kill yourself. I am not giving him praise, the media has already done that. But I am happy for him. People in the hospital didn’t understand that. And maybe you might not either. I am happy for him because HE is no longer suffering. HE succeeded where I am a failure. His suffering has ended while mine is still going on.

He died as a complication of depression. I like that term. “Complications of depression” yes, I like that term very much. But I doubt it will be used for my death. The throbbing has escalated. My foot is now on fire. And there is no extinguisher in the world that can put out the fire. So I take another pill. I hope that I am sleeping soon.

Perfectly made coffee, AHHHH

by Midnight Demon, posted in depression, mood disorders

Perfectly made coffee

Today I am at Starbucks again. I am only out of the house because I have an appt with my pdoc. Tomorrow I get to rest, if I am able to. I just plan on staying in and playing my game, to try and catch up on the missions. This is the third day in a row that I have been out of the house. And I am glad because the new guy at Starbucks made my coffee perfectly. I am in coffee heaven. Today’s coffee is from Hawaii called Ka’u. It’s delicious. And reading the cup, I realized why I didn’t get a half cup of it. I goofed and ordered a tall instead of a grande. OOPS. I still was able to make it a venti by putting cream in it. And a lot of ice.

I have been taking my blood pressure since I am on a new medication for that. And I still have high blood pressure. I am not sure what my PCP is going to do other than tell me to restrict salt and lose weight. The weight part is a given and unfortunately, while I was in the hospital, I gained a few pounds. Boredom will do that to anyone, especially when there is food around. My favorite thing to make was graham cracker cereal. I just broke up some graham crackers and poured milk on them. It was good. I plan on buying some crackers next week and making it at home.

I am nervous about meeting him though. I know I will have to tell him I just got discharged from the hospital, hence why I was on the BP med. I am just afraid that he will be giving me a two week supply of my pain meds to “test” me. That is, making sure that I am not going to overdose on them. He still doesn’t get that I don’t want to go out that way. I have more creative ways to die. I doubt I will be able to lose the pounds I gained in a week, unless I starve myself, which I don’t think is a good idea. I can cut down on my eating but then I get really hungry and if I go to sleep, I dream about food. Trouble is my mother hasn’t gone shopping because one of the main chains we go to is on strike. It’s so stupid. Two brothers are battling over the store chain. One brother fired the other, the good one, and thus, the strike ensued. The other grocery stores are too expensive for my mother (me too, but I shop there for convenience).

I finally solved the mystery of how people have been getting my blog email. I have it in one of my blog comments. Doh. It was curious because I have not given out my blog email to ANYONE so when I started getting a few emails, I was suspicious. But I totally forgot I had left my email in one of my blog comments for attempt survivors to contact me if they needed to talk. Now I got to figure out which blog it is so I can edit it so I don’t get spam.

I haven’t told my writing partner that I am planning on writing a coping book for attempt survivors. I think it will be a good use of my time. Though I have no idea how to write this thing. I am going to have to ask her for some help. I will have to bullet point some of it and I am not sure how the format is going to be once I do. I had problems with this with italics for my book.

I also have begun the process of editing a few of my blogs for my next book. It is a laborious task. I just edited one blog and though I was expecting it to be longer, it only took me a few minutes. 700 words are not that difficult to edit. I don’t have my list with me to edit the others. But I know I have to make this blog longer. I might add the pink pill part 2 blog to it so that it is one blog, or at least one story. If I had a brain today, I would have brought with me the legal pad that has the “Brick Wall” that I wrote while I was in the hospital. I could have typed that up while I am waiting for time to pass. I am such a shithead. Oh well, something to do when I get home today. I am including that story in the new book.

I just finished reading another CES (cauda equina syndrome) story in my CESSG mail. It is so sad that doctors don’t recognize the symptoms of CES right away. This poor guy waited a month before being seen by a neuro surgeon. Now he has permanent nerve damage. I feel horrified every time I hear a story like this.

Meeting with my pdoc went well. I was also nervous about it, which I am sure didn’t help my blood pressure. We talked about all that went on in the hospital. Told her about the anxiety attack that lead to a new bp med. I just took my bp and it is still high. I am worrying about this and I know I shouldn’t because it doesn’t help but I am. I told her how the case manager wanted me to stop my suicide research and stuff and my psychiatrist just shook her head. She knows how much the research means to me. It doesn’t trigger me like the CM thinks. I just want to die to end my pain and suffering, something that no one seems to understand other than my therapist and psychiatrist. I was asked point blank why I wanted to kill myself by this moron (CM). She just couldn’t understand why I wanted to end my life and I just shook my head like really? The past few weeks you have no clue? Everything that could possibly happen to me, happened to me while I was in the hospital. If I wasn’t in the hospital when it happened, I know I would have tried to kill myself. It’s just stupid and the hardest part was that I couldn’t educate these people in treating suicidal patients. They had their own ideas on how best to go about it (all wrong in my opinion as the re-admits will show). I really hope that I don’t get admitted again there. I really hated it because nothing was done to address my issues. They just were put aside every day and nothing was really done to actually help me deal or cope. That was left to the group leader or to the staff. It’s just mind boggling to me. The one place that you are supposed to get help, you don’t get it. Or you just get spurts of it. Just ridiculous!

Do I

by Midnight Demon, posted in suicide attempt

Do I

“Do I” is a song by Luke Bryan, one of my favorite male artists. Every time I hear the song, I wonder if my therapist and I are still a good fit. I think we are as we have been together for so long, but I often wonder if I am too much for her to bear or that I am a burden to her.

I went to Starbucks for the first time in four weeks. All my baristas were gone from the Davis location. I was so bummed not to see familiar faces. I hope they were off that day or just on vacation. I will be super bummed if I have to deal with new people. I will go there tomorrow and see how they make a clover coffee. I won’t order their reserve, just the Pike. I seem to like that better than their regular iced coffee, probably because it is made fresh.

I am still feeling good. Today on Mental Health chat on Twitter, the discussion was bipolar disorder. I have been diagnosed with bipolar as I have had some hypomanic episodes. I have never been full blown manic. I had one episode while I was in the hospital. I was really jocular and upbeat. I was also really racy and despite taking Ativan regularly, it still didn’t alter my mood. This lasted until I took some pain meds and then I crashed, hard over this past weekend. It was fun while it lasted and I wish I still felt that great. I felt like nothing could touch me. Suicide was furthest from my mind and I felt like I was on top of the world, even though I was in a psych hospital. It was very strange. I was expecting to go down, but I wasn’t expecting to be “that” down. I was really tired and just needed to rest but I was too restless to actually sleep. I took a prn to calm down some and finally was able to get some rest. Everyone was telling me I looked tired and down. With my anticipated discharge on Monday, I was thinking that it was not going to happen. I really didn’t want to leave the hospital feeling the way I did this weekend. It was such a major depressive episode that I didn’t want to chance leaving the hospital and then acting on my thoughts. So I had to practically beg to stay one more day. My case manager asked me why I wanted to die. I told her to end the pain and the indignity that I was feeling with my disability. I really just wanted to say “are you fucking kidding me”? This hospitalization, I experienced everything I do when I am home. I crapped my pants, leaked urine, was suicidal more than a few times, and was overall, severely depressed. The hypomania was a godsend. I just wish it lasted longer than it did. But it never does and the longer it lasts, the worse my depression is. I think I had a total of 12 hours of it. Not long enough to do any financial damage or anything, but enough to let me know I was alive again, that something inside me wants to keep going no matter what the suicidal thoughts might be.

My writing partner has suggested that I write a book about coping as a suicide attempt survivor. I have been giving it some serious thought and I think I can write it. I don’t know if I am going to write it in blog form or book form yet. Depends on how much I can actually write. But a large part of what works for me is already out there but people don’t utilize it. For example, I gave the crisis response plan (see this blog about it) to one of the patients because it was less confusing than what the hospital was giving out about distress tolerance. The hospital uses DBT type of works, which is fine for some people but may not fit for everyone. And, who the fuck is going to look at a piece of paper when they are in crisis mode?? I know I am not. I have been there too many times. But I have found that the crisis response plan has been helpful to me since David Jobes uses it in his work with suicidal patients.

One of the mental health counselors was interested in my book and the SSF, Suicide Status Form (see my comparisons of psychological pain scales for more information). I wish I could publish it on my blog but it is not available in electronic form and I would be violating copyrights. I use this in my therapy when I am suicidal. It helps because it gives my therapists some way of knowing which areas are causing me to want to die. I think it would be wonderful to use in an inpatient stay but I don’t get to make those types of decisions. Anyway, this MHC and I were talking about it and it was so good to talk about clinical stuff with someone again rather than just stuff about me. It was like being back in academia again where exchanging ideas is so important for learning. I just wish my treatment team was on board with my ideas for my treatment than just saying that I have to stay away from suicide stuff. I told them that I can’t. It is apart of me like breathing. I am always thinking about what is best for me and I am always searching for an answer to end the suicidal thoughts. Just telling me to stop is not going to work. I read clinical stuff as well as blogs because I want to keep abreast of the latest research. Even though I am no longer a member of the AAS, I still keep up with the suicide research. I wish I could afford their membership but I am on such a fixed budget that I can’t. I also would love to have the archives of suicide research journal but again, I can’t afford membership. It totally sucks. I was hoping that the sales of my book would provide me with additional income but it hasn’t taken off the way that I wanted it to. I have not reached my goal of selling 100 books, though I am half way there. While I was in the hospital, I sold two books. Not my personal copies, just through Amazon. I did bring one with me to give away but I never did. I still have it. My book signing has not gone well. It brought extra income just to buy food and the essentials. The struggles of the writer. I just have to find the right audience to get my book sold.

I am planning on getting my book reviewed by the AAS (American Association of Suicidology). It will be sent out next week along with a book for my editor. I have been meaning to send it out but things always seemed to get in the way. I wasn’t planning on being in the hospital for so long. I really thought I was going to stay a few days and that would be it but they had other plans when I told them I was going to kill myself when I got out. Hospitals tend to frown upon that. I put them in a “bind”. Sorry, but that was how I was feeling. I really was in bad shape and all that I was feeling felt normal to me. Looking back, I see that I wasn’t as rational as I thought I was. I guess that small overdose was the wake up call for my outpatient treaters to put me in the hospital.

Runaway Train

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

“Can you help me remember how to smile
make it somehow all seem worthwhile
how on earth did I get so jaded
life’s mysteries seem so faded”

These are the lyrics to Soul Asylum’s Runaway Train. These lyrics have been resonating with me over the past few days. The meaning is quite clear. I feel I don’t remember how to smile. Life seems jaded, far away from me. Another line is “somehow I’m neither here nor there” I ave been struggling with my alter Mr. Hyde the past few days. Last night he really wanted to come out and play. So I let him write yesterday’s blog and the lyrics to this song for my therapist. He seemed satisfied.

Runaway Train has been my favorite song since it came out in the early 90’s. The lyrics touch me very deeply. It’s a song about abuse, neglect, and the need to escape these things. Yet not matter where we go, they always follow us. Like the lyrics state “Runaway train never going back, wrong way on a one way track, seems like I should be getting somewhere, somehow I’m neither here nor there”

Every time hear the song my heart aches because I can never escape the pain. One of the tracks is “bought a ticket for a runaway train, like a madman laughing at the rain, a little out of touch, little insane, Just easier than dealing with the pain.

I interpret the ticket with suicide and how pain is dealt with. Suicide, for me, has always been my ticket out of this world. I read about it to understand it better. I write about it to feel better. Yet I know one day I will lose the battle, like Robin Williams, and take my own life. There is no way I can educate my family for my loss. For they refuse to acknowledge that I have mental illness. According to my sister “there is no mental illness on her side of the family”. This was said three weeks after my last hospitalization for depression. It’s tough to deal with. Yet I have no strength to educate them after all these years. I am surprised my brother in law hasn’t called me. But then, he, too, is in denial about things.

The last line of the song always gets me. It says “I runaway but it always seems the same” And it’s true. No matter how many times I have a depressive episode, it’s like my first and aways feels like it’s never going to end. Then I remember, usually by the scars on my wrist, that things were worst. Things always seem the same with depression but they never really are. Each episode takes a piece of you that cannot be replaced or taken back. Each episode tears you apart ad brings you to the edge of suicide nearly every time. And it hurts in ways you cannot describe. So I am on the one way track, trying never to go back, but I’m neither here nor there.