Depression sucks despite warm weather
I slept pretty good last night, waking up only once to use the bathroom and thankfully going back to sleep without major problems. My med alarm woke me up and I took my meds. I didn’t want to get up but knew if I didn’t, I would take them late again. I slept another two hours before my mother yelling at her sister woke me up. I looked at the time and it was about time to shower. I didn’t want to leave my bed and thought fleetingly of canceling my appointment. I just was so down. I was also irritable as the fricken TV was going through my fucking head. I have no idea why I am so sensitive to sounds lately. Just puts me in a wicked bad mood once my head starts hurting.
I took a shower and thankfully didn’t throw up as the post nasal drip was horrible. I took some Flonase when I got up to my room. With the warm weather, my sinuses were causing my head to hurt. I looked at the pressure and it was almost one point lower. Lovely. By the time I got to my appointment, I had a migraine. I had brought a migraine med with me, as I didn’t know if the headache would turn into one. My psych is a child psychiatrist so while waiting for her, a kid was playing some toy and she might as well have been hammering my head with whatever she was playing with.
I brought my barber his dinner. He was so happy. I was glad. I had one portion that I made for myself. I am glad I brought it as I was hungry. I had my coffee and a pop tart but was still hungry. I ate the cornbread around the meat. I wish there was a place I could have heated it up but I wasn’t going to walk to the café of the hospital to do it. My feet would hate me. When I did get to the hospital, I was an hour early so just sat in a coffee place area and journaled. While there, a lady came up to me saying I looked “official.” I laughed in my head as she explained she needed directions. She needed to go to a different building and wanted me to take her there. I wasn’t going to take her there as I was in the building I needed to be in. She got frazzled and I just pointed her to where she needed to go. I hardly looked “official” as I was wearing my Sox uniform top and sweatpants. I told my psych and she laughed.
I told my psych about how my living situation is changing. Though we talked about the therapist situation first. I really don’t know what I am going to do about it. At this point, it is easier to go there, if I can, for therapy. The social worker got back to me today and said I could see her to talk as she tries to look for something else. I didn’t tell my psych how suicidal I have been, though I had been emailing so I think she does know. I next meet her on the date I had planned. I didn’t want to do it and I still might not show up. Depends how I feel that week. I am still ambivalent about it so go back and forth with wanting to and not wanting to. Maybe I will just toss a fucking coin and decide.
If you are reading this day of posting (15 Mar), if you could please keep the firefighters of my hometown in your prayer, mojo, vibes, etc. I would appreciate it. They are currently battling a 9 alarm fire. People in the area are being evacuated as the fumes are really bad. I hope all stay safe.
Am I a hopeless case?
My med alarm woke me up. I reluctantly sat up to take them. I wanted to go back to sleep but my bladder said it had to go. It was really quiet in my house so I thought my mother was out. I went downstairs and peeked in the kitchen. My mother was there and the TV was on mute, hence why it was quiet. I did my business and brushed my teeth. I went upstairs wanting to go back to sleep but I needed to pick up my package at the FedEx office. I was debating on how to get there. Then I got a phone call that wrecked my day.
The phone call was the social service dept at the hospital where all my doctors are (except my neurologist who is at a different hospital). I could tell by her voice she wasn’t going to give me pleasant news. She was speaking slowly which was annoying. I let her say what she needed to. The whomever decided I needed “long term care” and they do not provide it. So she gave me some other places I could try. I got upset. One of the places she “recommended I try” was Psychology Today’s website and I told her the therapists there do what you are doing to me once they hear my history. She was taken aback by that. It is true, that is why I am stuck in therapist limbo because I have a history of suicide attempts AND could possibly be in crisis, which makes therapists uncomfortable. Rather than dealing with it, they just don’t see you or pass you on to someone else. So I got a few contacts, one was a social worker referral line. I am not going to call them. I sent a message to my PCP’s social worker to let her know I was upset they denied me services.
After the phone call, I just cried. I was so frustrated and angry and when I get like that, I just cry. I felt pretty hopeless. I feel like I am just this hopeless case no one wants to take on. I still have the other therapist I put on hold but I really don’t want to go back to see him when he really hasn’t helped me in the year I saw him. All I got from him was venting my frustrations on my medical care and other stresses, like my mother being an asshole. I wrote to my psychiatrist to let her know. She told me the hospital does not provide therapy (then why are they number 1 in psychiatry???) and we will talk about this more tomorrow. I didn’t respond to the email. I had started to cry again.
I feel utterly defeated, worse than I have ever felt about not having a therapist since 2016. I keep replaying the scenario in my mind when I asked my therapist if we should end, not expecting a yes but got a yes. I was shocked. Then I couldn’t get a hold of her as it was the holidays and I just thought when I spoke to her next things would be eased out and we go back the way it was before. Nope, she was going to terminate. In a month. With no appointments in between that January appointment and the February one. Since then I had to call like seven therapist before I landed the one I saw until my physical mobility was shot. I think I stopped seeing him in January. I wasn’t getting much from him anyways. More than a few times, he pissed me off so much I would cancel the next appointment. He never asked why, just did it and never talked about it. All my previous therapists always asked why I canceled and got the third degree when I did so. In a lot of ways he is different than all of the ones I saw before. But he was okay with me being suicidal. I could talk about it with him like I couldn’t with anyone else. But that is all it was, talking. No plans or structure or anything else to cope with how horrible I felt. So even though I had someone I could talk to, I often felt alone with what I talked about because there was a lack of care with the heaviness I spoke about. No idea if I am making sense. The last straw for me with him was when he told me to Google relaxation techniques after I told him my PTSD was keeping me from sleeping. He just said it was “anxiety” keeping me up. So now I will have Google as my therapist. No one else wants the job.
Weird few days
Met with my psych today. I told her I think I’ve been hypomanic as I’ve been spending like crazy and have become really impulsive. I crash at night per usual or the next day. It would explain why my sleep cycle has been so off the past 2 weeks since lowering my dose of trileptal. So I am going to take another mood stabilizer, lamictal, and hope it does something. I have been having more flare ups which I feared might happen as before my 2nd CES, I was only on the trileptal. I was barely taking pain meds and nerve pain was controlled so I didn’t need gaba..that all went to hell when ces hit me again and my ankle became CRPS. But since the pain med change I was fine. Now that I have had to lower the trileptal. Omg holy hell. Flares hurt more. Like 7 days. They are getting harder to control. I am having to do whatever it takes to stop hurting. I know it will bite me in the ass but until the mood thing straightens out, I don’t think anything else will be helpful. I didn’t want to play too much with Gaba during the day because I could literally walk into walls or worse fall down stairs. I have to be careful at night with dosing and how much I drink because if I have to pee, well I am dozy. I’ve also become suicidal again. I haven’t told my therapist yet. But my psych gets it. I was in a bad flare and if I could move, I wouldn’t be here. Luckily, I am not planning again during times I am not in pain so that is good, least for now.
My insurance for mental health benefits suck. My therapist says it is the worst ones out there and he will be leaving the provider network sometime this year. So it will just be Medicare I will be billed. I had this whole idea just to use this insurance but now doesn’t look like it.
I am fucked because like I said I spent money I shouldn’t have. I have some cash but had to mail some stuff out so that has dwindled. I don’t know what the cost is going to be for lamictal or pain meds yet. It will be Monday. And I hope the starter pack is covered. I just have to watch out for rash. Great. I think I was on it before but the doctor was increasing it monthly and wanted me up to 300 mg. After 2 months I said fuck it. It would take 6 months to get up to 300 and I was on at 75 mg at 2 months. It didn’t help my pain at all, but then dose was so low. The most expensive meds are my psych meds. Monday I find out what my pain med is going to cost. Pharmacy can’t run it through until processing it. So dumb.
I see my pcp this month. I got to ask him what to do about this heel pain. I don’t know if it is plantar fasciitis or not. The stretches haven’t been helpful but I am going to try them using a belt. It is really inflamed and when I was using a gel insert I felt my foot turn causing the side where I have torn tendons to hurt. Needless to say, I am hurting. I came home and my mother was in the living room. We were talking and I turned around, nearly lost my balance. So now I am using the walker until things calm down. I am in my room and going to blog soon. Was supposed to go to my niece’s party but I can’t do stairs. Plus I don’t want to be around anyone as I am really irritable with the pain and hypomania. I don’t want a fight. Almost happened NYE as my know it all cousin tries telling me diabetes doesn’t run in our family. Her uncle and my mother, her aunt have it, my other uncle was diagnosed, though I think he has type 2 not 1 that my mother has and a lot of cousins with it. But it doesn’t run in our family. I had to walk away. She is so dumb and believes “drugs” causes schizophrenia as well as the naval service. So infuriates me. I feel bad for her brothers as one does have schizophrenia and the other bipolar disorder. No support at all. I’ve decided after NYE, I am done with them. The whole time I was surrounded by my cousins, I felt like an outsider. It was so toxic to be around them so washing my hands of them. My sister wants the nuts at her house, fine. I won’t attend. I don’t care. I had the worse flare NYE after cooking and partying. I was in agony because my foot was so swollen (also manic but whatever). I couldn’t move my big toe. It was so big. Just not worth the aggravation.
So that is what is going on. Hopefully I don’t have to change therapists because I don’t know if I can afford him once he is off the insurance. 20% is a lot when you are broke. I just have to uninstall Amazon lol fucking thing makes buying shit so easy. Lol
About suicide hotlines: My thoughts
some hotlines: Crisis text line 741741, National Suicide hotline 1-800-273-8255, Trans Lifeline 877-565-8860, Trevor Project for LNGTQ 866-488-7386
After a 9 year old that came out as gay to his friend and then killed himself, there has been an increase in sending out the suicide hotline numbers. While I know that sending out and calling does help people, there are other that feel too hopeless and alone, maybe feeling ashamed, maybe feeling no one will understand, and therefore won’t reach out.
One thing that is often said in hindsight of a suicide is why? Why didn’t I see the signs? But knowing the signs are not enough. Often when confronted, people with suicidal thoughts or maybe even planning a suicide, will deny it. It is a sensitive issue. A private issue. I know when my best friend told me at the age of 11 to seek help, my response was “I am not crazy”. With stigma, it is hard to approach someone who is suicidal. Often, there is the thought, no way this person is thinking of suicide, not my child, friend, co-worker, etc. They may deny it and say they don’t because it is against their religion or maybe the person who asks, frightens their friend or family member for fear of being stopped or if they do say yes, the person who asks responds with “don’t do something stupid” or “I will kill you if you do this”, which further alienates the suffering person. I’ve had this experience from two different people. I’ve never understood this logic. I still don’t.
My point of all this is people who are depressed ad suicidal need to feel safe in order to talk openly about their feelings. Often calling a hotline takes a lot of effort to even pick up the phone or dial the number. It is so scary because they are afraid they will be turned away and that holds people back. Or maybe they have phone anxiety like me. The Crisis Text Line is super for those people. But it is still scary to admit they are having suicidal feelings. They don’t know what will happen when they call or text.
In this case of this little boy who apparently was bullied, I don’t know if he would have had access to a phone to reach out and seek help. We often think those under the age of 10 cannot think about suicide but the numbers are growing. I know when I was eight I started having suicidal thoughts and made my first attempt at age 10. I didn’t tell anyone about this besides my best friend. He was probably sick of me talking about it so told me to reach out and then I shut down. I stopped talking about it but the thoughts were still there. When I was 12 I did reach out to Samaritans. I talked to a nice British speaking lady. I was very scared to call. I never had another good experience calling a hotline again. I was often rushed off the phone once I mentioned that I was suicidal.
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