Tag: psychological pain

weepiness and not enough sleep

by Midnight Demon, posted in cauda equina syndrome, CES, Chronic pain, mental disorders, mental illness, suicide, suicide attempt

Have not been myself the past few days. I have been wicked emotional since my TG piece got posted. I had 19 people read it so far and only 1 comment. No likes but it still is early. My first piece didn’t get anything until weeks later and then it was on fire.

I think I put a lot of myself out there and that is why I am still in a weepy state today. I just am emotionally drained from writing it as well as what my therapist says, I hide myself pretty well. I haven’t left my house. I have not showered in a few days time. I don’t think I have had the energy or inclination to brush my teeth. My eyes have been blurry today and I don’t see the head honcho of the neuro-opt until next week. It’s driving me crazy that I can’t see, even with my glasses on. My left eye seems to the trouble today. I just can’t focus.

Tomorrow I am supposed to go see my dad but I think I won’t. I don’t need his antics when I haven’t been having a good few days. He always makes me feel like a shitbag. But that is just the way he is.

I think the whole mess of not being able to work anymore and collecting disability has finally sunk in and I just have been so weepy. It’s hard because I have always been a good worker and now that I can’t it harder because I don’t have something to look forward to every day. I have my writing and blog but I don’t have the outside contact of being with someone or people contact that I normally get. And just when I think I can go back to work, I stand for longer than I should and have a pain attack that night. It’s really depressing me not having something to do except writing. I could clean my room but I don’t have anything or anywhere to put all my clothes. I don’t have bookcases for my books and other office style stuff. I can clean my office but I get so overwhelmed that I just end up not doing anything at all. My office has become one side of my bed, which probably has contributed to my sleep problems. A sleep doctor would have a coronary if he ever evaluated me. But then I always have had trouble sleeping. I had trouble getting to sleep, staying asleep, and going back to sleep. I know it doesn’t help that I have my laptop next to me in bed or my books or my journal or the 3 notebook/pads I have for writing my ideas down.

What ever is causing this weepy business, I hope it stops and I hope my pdoc calls me back. I want to get started on a new/old medicine to try and help me sleep better and stabilize my mood.

a little more about me

by Midnight Demon, posted in depression, mental disorders, mental illness, mood disorders, suicide, suicide attempt, transgender

I have been thinking about taking my life since I was eight years old. I was in a lot of pain for some reason or another and it never got taken cared of. Today I think that pain stems from the fact that I am really a male and not a female. I knew at a young age that I was different and back then, there was no expressing how I truly felt. I really think that if I got help sooner, this would have come to light sooner and I wouldn’t be in this pickle today about what to do with my transition.

I’ve know since I was in kindergarten that I was different than the other girls in my class because I wanted to play with “boy” toys rather than with dolls. I found playing dress up boring as all hell and mostly destroyed my dolls as my mother would tell you. I would always take my toys apart, wonder how they worked but could never put them back together again as I would end up destroying them.

I didn’t mind being different. This was a time where I still thought I was straight so I thought that if a boy liked me, he had to like me for who I was rather than what I am. I still feel this way today, though to a greater extent than a five year old’s thinking. I just know that I was a boy though I could not express what I was feeling. Everyone called me a girl and I just could not understand why. It wasn’t until I started my menarche that I inwardly defied being a “woman” and the feelings of wanting to die grew stronger. I knew there was no way in hell I could tell my parents I was a boy. My father downright refused to let me play sports because I was a “girl” and that hurt more than anything. I couldn’t play soccer but I could play basketball when I got to high school. I still don’t know why I had to go to the girls room and be on the girls team but I just figured I was following the rules of play and that was what I did. I hated starting arguments so I just played along. It wasn’t until I was in my early thirties that the realization of me growing into a boy was not going to happen. I think I am a boy for many reasons. I have hair in places most girls do not and I have facial hair. I love wearing men’s clothing, doing men things like watching sports, and my closest friends are men. I tend to think more of man things like how things work and other stuff that is being more than just being a tomboy. Terri Clark is a tomboy but she shows her feminine side at times. I don’t feel I have a feminine side and would hate it if I did. Things like make up and jewelry just don’t interest me. I think just having one pair of shoes is sufficient, I hate shopping, and I can’t stand hair products.

The depression gets bad and I am always hating myself. I hate my appearance. I hate my body. I hate me, I actually loath and despise myself. There is no other term I can describe how much I hate myself for not being who I really am. This constant pretending is killing me. But I don’t think about it often because it will just drive the suicidal self into action if I do. For years I have kept a lid on who I really was but I can’t do that anymore because it just hurts too much. I have to be who I am and if anyone can’t understand it, then they don’t need to be in my life. It hurts when the pronoun gets misused. I love it when I am called sir but then I kind of feel really bad when they correct it. Unfortunately, now that I am severely overweight, my figures are more defined so I am being called Ma’am more often and it hurts. Sometimes with baggy clothes or jacket I can still be called sir or mister but that is rare these days. I hardly go out anymore. I just can’t face the world. I have become reclusive to my own surroundings. I hate going out for anything even if it is for my one cup of Joe a day.

A Day in the Life of Midnight Demon

by Midnight Demon, posted in baseball, cauda equina syndrome, CES, Chronic pain, mental disorders, mental illness, mood disorders, suicide, suicide attempt

Talking with Bozo, aka my therapist, 3x this week. Don’t know how that happened. I called her Thursday because I was in severe pain Wednesday night which seems like ages ago today. She asked if I wanted to meet Monday and like an idiot I said yes. We talked about M today as I am upset by the whole thing. People who are not in the situation are quick to judge about what to do. I had a response to M’s blog and one person said that I should do something as she obviously “wants help”,  as she opened up to me. Thing is she doesn’t know the battle it takes to deal with the effects of chronic illness day in and day out. No one knows how hard it is to deal with this unless they have been there like I have. I feel M’s pain as if it were my own because I have been where she is and I know what she is going through.

M is going to the doc today and I hope they do something for her but I doubt that she will open up to them about her plan or much less about what is really going on with her. She seems convinced to go through with whatever she is planning and it sounds like she has been poisoning herself slowly to die a slow death. It’s awful that she has to go through this alone. I feel so helpless. But I understand where she is coming from.

Now my Left foot is vibrating right now. It’s driving me nuts. And it’s not even night time. It’s weird that I would get nerve pain at 2 pm in the afternoon.

Today I also went to the bank and bakery for my mother. Also mailed her mail. Then came to Starbucks.

I’m getting a little bit tired like I can take a nap but I won’t. I got to stop taking naps even though it’s the only way I get the REM sleep. It really sucks to sleep during the day but I wake up sometimes restful, other times groggy. I really want another coffee, maybe a Blue Java from Indonesia! I really love that coffee. I had some yesterday. I love that I can make it whenever I want. But I’m at Starbucks so I can get another coffee if I want it dammit! And I did get it. Two cups of coffee in one day. I’m going to be up all night. Coffee is so much different than at home. But it still tastes as strong as home. I miss my Galapagos. That was the best mild full-bodied coffee. But the Pats game is on tonight so I will need all the caffeination I can get!!

I got to go home and find my Roxio cd so I can burn CDs again. I don’t know why I should be worrying about it. It’s not like the thing is going to work on my new laptop any ways.

If my father had a DVD player I could have made him a DVD of his pictures rather than his photo book that is crap. Jerk better like it or I will be wicked upset with him.

Saturday Nights

by Midnight Demon, posted in Chronic pain, depression, mental disorders, mental illness, mood disorders, suicide, suicide attempt

It’s another Saturday night. Of me not working the evening shift. Another Saturday of me not getting aggravated with the bozos of the day shift that have left work all up to the high heaven because they decided to leave it for evening shift. No longer am I burdened with the calls of the nurses and doctors who want their results from 2 pm because it is now 6 pm and why is it taking so long. Of having to explain to them I am just getting to their sample now because some lay brained idiot left it where it was hidden under a basket or transport missed it in the last pick up and it is now arriving now. No longer am I responsible for taking shit from these air brains and stuffing it all inside leading me to want to kill myself. Every Saturday night.

Every Saturday night for about the past year I had been thinking about taking my life after one of these horrendous shifts. It wasn’t something that came one day out of the blue. It had been brewing for sometime until I found the perfect place. What better way to say fuck you to an institution that you hate than to take your life in it. Least that is what I was thinking. Now we’ll never know if I will go ahead with my plans though I have gotten the means and left the means in one of my lockers.  It was a safe place to have these things in there and knowing I could act at any time. My therapist knew all the while I had the loaded gun so to speak and was ready to pull the trigger at any time. I just never got the courage to actually go through with it for fear of there being security cameras where I wanted to do it. I thought that if I went up there in the late hours of the morning and got caught on tape, my job would not only be over but I would be taking some quality time in some psych ward for some period of time. Psychiatrists don’t like to let someone loose when they know they have attempted or near attempted suicide.  I don’t miss the wondering and the planning. For months I had this plan and just when I couldn’t take things anymore, there I had my plan. All nice and detailed. All I had to do was learn to make knots. But I figured if I went that far, I would be in deeper trouble. The plan would go from thought to preparation and that was more serious. And dangerous. It was a step closer to ending my life.