Tag: psychological pain

just cause more agony

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

I finally got out of the house today. I haven’t showered yet because I wasn’t sure what kind of day it was going to be bowel wise. I would hate to shower and then my bowels decide it was going to let loose on me, forcing me again to shower. So far, it doesn’t look like it is one of those types of days. This is what I have to live with every day. All due to nerve damage. All because a disc was ruptured and entered my cauda equina nerves.

As I was walking home, the Story of Us came on my mp3 player. It is a song by Taylor Swift and I think I am going to write out the lyrics and send them out to my therapist. We are again at an impasse. She still needs valium for her to calm herself when I start talking about suicide so I haven’t been talking about it the past few weeks. I have closed myself off from feeling it. I know that I shouldn’t but if I can’t talk about it without her going wonky, where does that leave me? Alone with my thoughts. Alone with harmful thoughts. And what is ok, is that I am ok with this. I have been alone with these thoughts before. It’s nothing new to me. People can’t deal with it and I am ok with it. The alternative is involuntary hospitalization and that will just cause more agony.

Part of the lyrics is “Now I’m standing alone in a crowded room and we’re not speaking,
And I’m dying to know is it killing you like it’s killing me, yeah?
I don’t know what to say, since the twist of fate when it all broke down,
And the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now”.

And “This is looking like a contest,
Of who can act like they care less,
But I liked it better when you were on my side. The battle’s in your hands now,
But I would lay my armor down
If you said you’d rather love than fight.
So many things that you wished I knew,
But the story of us might be ending soon.

I wish she would lay her armor down and we could talk things out. We have tried to work on this impasse but I think what she is asking me for (my promise that I won’t kill myself) is just too much for me to bare right not. I can’t promise something I know I can’t keep. I know the likelihood of me actually going through one of my hare brained plans is slim to none but she doesn’t know that. She should by now. She knows I am a planner and a date picker. But that is all that I am. I am tired of being those things but I don’t think I have the lethality in me to really act on my plans. But I know that if I don’t try, just one time, I will feel bad. I don’t want to see 2014. I don’t want to live to see another birthday. And it hurts because I know sadly that I will live to see both because I am a coward.

Today I asked for the 17th off for personal reasons and when she asked what those were, I said I couldn’t tell her. HAHA I couldn’t tell my therapist, who deals with personal stuff, what my personal reasons were for having the 17th off.

Am I a writer?

by Midnight Demon, posted in cauda equina syndrome, depression

I haven’t done much more than drink coffee and take a shower, which both seem to be an accomplishment given how I have been feeling lately. The weird mood has ceased and I am back to my depressed self. I am not thinking about harming myself but it is in the back of my mind. I am listening to the same country music songs over and over. It’s a compilation of artists that suit my fancy, from The Band Perry, Taylor Swift, Luke Bryan and Blake Shelton to Daughtry, Goyte, and Rob Thomas.

I should be working on my introduction but have decided today is my Sabbath and I am not going to work, other than write my daily blog. I thought about doing some editing but I am just not up for it. I should make a table of contents. I might do that later.

I just can’t seem to get motivated today. I woke up in pain. I don’t know if I was sleeping wrong or my foot just decided it was time to get up, but it has been throbbing since eight this morning. I guess the pain meds that I took before bed wore off. But the pain didn’t deter me from taking a shower. And I rested after I took a shower because I am not going out today.

Thanks to a fellow blog reader, she found me the blog that I was looking for yesterday. I added it to the grief section of my book. I still have to come up with another three thousand words or more now. Just 3,000. Oh boy. I don’t know if I can do it. I know the ending is partly done as I am going to stick in the future blog in it with what I got already. Now I just have to work on the introduction and call it a book. I started the intro yesterday but didn’t get too far. Words were coming out like I was pulling teeth. I only wrote a page and a half and that took quite a bit of effort. I don’t know why words come easily to me at times and other times it so painful. I know when I am feeling content, I don’t write at all. It’s only when I am darkly depressed or slightly depressed that I can express myself. Reading Touched With Fire again is confirming this. Though I don’t really consider myself a writer, if only because I have not published anything formally. I know my therapist will bring up the paper and poem I had published when I was a teen but I don’t really count that as writing. Well, maybe. If I could find the book I am sure I could tell.

Thing is, I never wanted to become a writer. Sure when I was reading Star Trek: TNG books, I thought I could write one but it always seemed out of reach for me. I wanted to study medicine, to help other people. But when that went up in smoke, I just quit. I suffered and I managed a job that at times I hated for fourteen years. I wasn’t making big bucks working at the hospital. Decent money sure with benefits and all, but it didn’t make me happy. I did the work of three people and still managed to do it accurately. It makes me sad that I can no longer work at that job, least not when my foot is still the way it is. And because of my mental illness, I am not sure I can really hold a job again. I probably could hold a part-time job, but even that will take some doing. I know that I can’t work as a barista at Starbucks because there is too much standing and lifting. But I might be able to get away with it for a couple of days a week. But I don’t know if I want to go back to retail. I swore after my days of Somerville Lumber, I would NEVER go back. I couldn’t stand the bitchy customers who would argue over a nickel or penny difference. I so wanted to reach in my pocket and give them a dime, just so they would leave!

But when the time comes for me to look for work again, I hope that I am well enough.

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.

to go on living a life you don’t want to live

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

It’s wicked cold out today. I was going to go to the store to buy some half and half but I think I will wait till tomorrow. I can get my coffee at Starbucks before I meet up with my cousin for lunch. But that means no coffee for today and I am kind of grumpy.

I wanted to work on my book today but I think I am vetoing that idea. I just don’t have the brain power to do it. I was also thinking of working on this paper I conjured up but even the ideas for that have slipped out of thin air. I just can’t get motivated today. I know it’s because I haven’t had coffee in two days. I should steal my sister’s car and go out to Starbucks. But that would involve getting dressed and such. I am rather comfy in my bed right now. I don’t want to leave comfy confines for a freezing, windy day. Amazing to think how much coffee controls our lives. I know some people can’t handle it because of its side effects. But to know the true joy of having that first sip of coffee…that is profoundly so good. Unless you don’t have it because you are too friggen lazy to get out of bed and get half and half. Grrrrr. I am denying myself joy because of laziness. And now I am cold and need my long sleeved shirt…

OK enough about coffee. I am not getting it today because I am lazy. Enough said. I am having an argument with myself on my own blog about coffee…jeez this is funny! Or boring.

I have a ton of books to read but have not picked one up since I ended Team of Rivals. I just have the indecision factor going on because I have so many books to read I can’t choose which one to read. Do I want something about Lincoln again, the revolutionary war, the battles of the civil war, or a book about madness and creativity? I actually did start reading the madness and creativity one. But I usually have two books going at the same time. I don’t know why that is. I also have a book on bipolar disorder that I haven’t read since it came out. It’s probably outdated by now as they have newer treatments available. The book was written around the time when only Lithium, tegretol, and Depakote were the standards of treatment. Now they have much more to help.

I have been thinking about what I want to do for the month of December. It is going to be weird because I had set a date in December to kill myself and now it doesn’t look like that is going to be the case. I didn’t plan on having another birthday. I didn’t plan on seeing another new year come in. This sucks. Now what do I do? I plan on being a scrooge for my birthday. No extended family members allowed. Just the parents, my sisters, and their kids. My birthday is close to Christmas and I usually get shafted with gifts anyways. I always get one for each. I hate this time of the year. When people started posting the dates of Christmas getting closer, I unfriended them. I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to have my wall filled up with the joy I never feel. I never feel happy at Christmas. I am always sad. I have thought of taking my life since I was nine around my birthday. Maybe one year I will succeed in doing it but not this year. And that to me hurts more than anything else, to go on living a life you don’t want to live.