Tag: psychological pain

in a restless state of mind

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, Chronic pain, chronic physical pain, CRPS, depression, mood disorders

In a restless state of mind

I had my appointment with the therapist Tues. We discussed the abuse. She asked if I talked to anyone about it. I said no. I kind of did when I was a teen but that lead to bad consequences and I never spoke of it again. Then she asked about my suicidality. She said that she had to keep me safe and I felt like we were going along the path of the “no harm” safety contracts that I swear was not going to work with me at all. But, again, she didn’t get more specific about safety. Just decided to work on a DBT skill, which I don’t even remember what it is. I am supposed to be working on it but fuck, I am in no mood to. I told her I would write the responses in a notebook but I’ve tried to find ANY of the million and one comp notebooks I have and have failed. No idea where they all went. I recently bought two. One I know is in my everyday backpack. Where the other one went, no fucking clue. My room ate it. I know when I am looking for something, one of them will make an appearance.

When I came home from therapy, I got into a fucking flare. My foot went fucking ballistic and stayed that way for almost 36 hours. I woke up at 430 am yesterday and just said fuck it. I was thinking on acting. And yet I was hindered by my psych saying I should call her when I was thinking on acting on my urges. Well, it was 0430 in the morning so I wasn’t going to call her then. I sent her an email and tried to go back to sleep. My mother can always be counted on to disrupt my sleep as she called around 11 or so to see if the goddamn windows were closed as it looked like rain. Thunderstorms were supposed to happen through today. Around 2 I still hadn’t heard from my psych so asked her if calling her later was okay and she responded giving me a time. She called before I could call her at that time and we talked. She asked why my pain is always the cause of my suicidality. I told her it is just too much. I had foot swelling Tuesday night that continued until this morning and it was so fucking painful. I had three different types of pain going on that were so damn high it wasn’t even on a scale. So I just decided it was time to end it. She said no or she would send an ambulance for me. Shit. We are to talk again on Sat. I really don’t want to fucking talk anymore. I just want this fucking suffering to end. My plan is still on. She said she has the pipeline dream of me being better. I told her at least one of us has hope and she said she will hold on to that for both of us.

I got a response from my wonderful PT about what to do about the back situation. She said there are specific exercises to help stabilize the spine and can be done in like 7 sessions. I am not sure if I want to go back to PT as I just ended. I told her I had other fish to fry and when it is done, I will be in touch. I read the report as it came in last night. I have a new herniation at the beginning of my spine at T12-L1. It is minor. The worst one is at L3-L4, which is in the middle of where I had surgery. That is the disc that has gotten worse and is near my L3 nerve root which could be why my bladder is being so dysfunctional. I feel like I am a ticking time bomb. This level is unstable. If the disc goes or if I see a surgical consult, I most likely will need a fusion. I am not going to have a fusion because everyone that I know that has had one has had more pain. From what I read, fusions were only to be for the neck, not the lumbar part of the spine. I am wicked bad at remembering where I read stuff, so not sure if it was a journal or what. Don’t even remember the year but that is what sticks out in my mind. I could be wrong. But it would make sense as to why so many people with fusions have had them fail on them. Not saying everyone with a fusion hasn’t been helped. I just haven’t found those people.

Used to…

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, Chronic pain, chronic physical pain, CRPS, depression, mood disorders, suicide

Used to…

I used to write in my journals all the anxiety and fear and depression that swept through my heart. The pain of living night after night in despair so great I thought I would never see the light of day again. It was cathartic and once the words were on paper (or in a word doc like they are now), I didn’t have to deal with them. The feelings were out, I felt better. I didn’t have to remember anymore.

I used to write blogs that had some purpose, whether in my clinical papers I wrote or my daily struggles with suicide and depression and chronic pain. It opened a portal so I could share myself with others who were going through the same things. It was the last remaining joy in my life before pain took over. I have been struggling since. Where I would used to write sometimes twice a day and the odd three, I barely write twice a week, if that many. I’ve lost hope in things.

I used to go to therapy with the hope that things would get better. Despite going through 10 in a short period of time (8 years), I still held on that the “right” one was out there. Therapist number 12 I thought was that “right” person until 16 years later we ended, on our anniversary date. She no longer wanted to work with me anymore. I had been in a lot grief since that day. Took me two months to try and figure out if I needed therapy and why I needed therapy. So therapist number 14 came along (13 was the interim therapist I saw while 12 was on maternity leave). He was different from all my previous therapists. He frustrated me more than any of them put together. I skipped sessions because of the anger. Then there were sessions where I felt we were making progress but like the other therapists before him, didn’t go anywhere the following week. In Jan of this year (2019) I realized I couldn’t stay with him after he told me to Google some relaxation stuff for my PTSD. That was the last straw. I had sprained my ankle during this time and decided going to therapy and working on my ankle were going to tax me like it did before. I got physically better, telling him I would go back to him when I was done. I never did.

By March of this year, I was having serious mood shifts of suicidality. In Jan because pain had been really bad, I planned a date to end it. It was the end of March. I had some of my ducks in a row to end it. But the month came and I didn’t have so many ducks as I thought I did. I fell into despair. Pain was keeping me up. The insomnia that I had infrequently, started to become more chronic. I was spending more and more time awake than I was sleeping. Add in not having a therapeutic relationship and I was barely above water. I kept writing my psych of 26 years how bad I felt nearly every day. We were in frequent contact as she was the only person in my team. The day I was to end it, it was raining. I had wanted to end it outside in a desolate place. The rain spoiled it and I had an appointment with my psych that day. I saw my psych as I have never skipped an appointment with her and wasn’t going to start.

April was torturous. By the middle, my psych wanted me to go in the hospital and I said no. I asked her why she wanted me still alive because at that point, I felt so worthless, I had no idea why she wanted me alive other than she “had to.” She told me some good reasons that I still remember. I tried to hold on to those. I starting thinking about writing another book that would be so outside my realm of mental health but would take a lot of research to do it. It would be a challenge and I hoped I was up for it. That lasted a few days. Then I was back in the despair and this time, it wasn’t letting me go.

I used to think that the hospital was a safe haven, a place to recover and get well, learn new coping skills and then be able to face the challenges outside better. With insurances no longer covering long stays, this is nearly impossible. Some people are lucky to stay past three days. Others stay just 24 hours like that has any benefit. I was hesitant to go back in. I was just about as suicidal you could be without actually attempting and I was getting close. There were a few nights where I didn’t think I would make it through the night. I honestly have no clue what kept me here or how I did it. I stayed for three weeks and then my whole world went to smithereens.

I was supposed to see my psych the following week but she changed it to the following Monday. She said she had some news to tell me and I listened. The institution she had been apart of for 30 years was letting her go. She didn’t go into the reasons and I asked her if writing a letter would help and she said no. I have been seeing her for 26 years. My heart broke in a million pieces but I didn’t know it yet. I still had one week left of seeing her and it would be the last until she was some place else, though she didn’t know where yet. She wanted to stay in academia and Boston is the academia capital. All the while I was to see a new therapist, number 15. The first visit didn’t go well. She hammered me with questions, took my history (I tried to stay away from suicide as that freaks mental health professionals out), and who I was seeing for psych. She asked me about my hospital stay and I thought oh shit here we go. She asked what I was to do with crisis. I said call my psych. But according to her, my psych had “terminated” me. I couldn’t comprehend that. I knew my psych didn’t, she said so and she doesn’t lie. She still wanted to be in my care, to take care of me. I didn’t know if I would see this therapist again. She was nonchalant about setting up another appointment with me. I said I give new therapists at least three sessions before deciding if they would work. She agreed on that point.

I don’t know what will happen the next few weeks. I am back to being highly suicidal without a voice. My one or two places where I catharized my feelings are blank, and have been since the day my psych said she was temporarily leaving me. Wed I got a call to see a new psych and I nearly had a meltdown in the lobby of the building where I first started seeing my psych. But I had to see my pcp so had to keep things together. I have had some medical problems this past week that are still unresolved. I never thought my body would be broken down so much at 43, but then, I never thought I would live to see this age.

I used to believe I would always write in some way, shape, or form. I never thought my words would be hard to reach for. Between the physical and emotional pain, the medications I take, and the pressure of trying to stay some what alive for whatever reason when I just want to fucking die, I am at a loss of words. Some times they breakthrough the constriction I am in, the blinders that say that I should die and nothing else matters. My psych asked me if I would be alright for next week, and she said Monday. I told her I didn’t know. I still don’t know. I want to find that desolate place and end it so fucking much. The thought of dealing with CRPS (complex regional pain syndrome) without pain meds is freaking me out, especially as they don’t work as they once did. It is no fault of the medication, just the disease process. Eventually, there will be nothing that will work for it and I cannot cope with that. I cannot imagine spending my life in so much pain when I already spent 28+ years of it managing the mental illness part of me. I used to believe there was hope out there. Now I am not so sure anymore.

Back in the Abyss

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, Chronic pain, chronic physical pain, CRPS, depression, mood disorders, suicide

Back in the Abyss

I finished PT and had to get a coffee. It was decent. I then had to wait for the bus a good twenty minutes because I had just missed the one that would take me home. So I had to walk to a bus stop where buses were going by more frequently than where I was to the train station. I didn’t have to wait long for the bus home, thankfully. I was about ¾ of the way home when my ankle exploded in pain and I swore out loud. I then started to panic as I wasn’t sure if I would be able to walk home when my stop came up. The stabbing started and is still going on 5 hours later. It has been in the same fucking spot the past 3-4 weeks. I came home and then went up to my room where I basically have been the whole time, with the exception of going to the bathroom.

I took my meds. A thunderstorm has just started, which probably is why my pain has kicked off. I am so fucking depressed I don’t even care about baseball tonight. I have been on Twitter, though. There have been 3 homeruns, back to back to back. Last I looked at the score it was 8-0 Sox. Hopefully the bullpen doesn’t fuck it up. I have been listening to Luke Combs’s album, This one’s for you. It has tied Garth Brooks’s No Fences album in some record. I am so happy for this guy. I hope he sticks with the country genre and doesn’t move to the country pop shit.

While I was waiting for the bus, there was a guy talking to himself. Sadly, his conversation was similar to the kind I have with my voices all the time. I have been having this recurring fantasy where I am with my psych while I am in a room. She comes in while I am very agitate and just going off with the voices and it is quite clear I am having a conversation with someone. She is watching me while this conversation is going on as I did not notice her coming into the room. She calmly asks who I am talking to and I turn around to answer, thinking it is another voice joining the crowd, when I see her and immediately think “oh shit”. I was busted. I had this happen to me when my voices were out of control back in 2008. I was having a conversation with the voices when my research manager walked by me, mid conversation. God, these voices haven’t happened outside my place but they are with me all the time telling me how to do things or asking why I am going this particular way to a place I frequently go to. It gets annoying depending on my level of anxiety and agitation or if someone pissed me off and I am blowing off steam to them. To this day I am convinced that when my father called me a liar and I was very upset, if I had started engaging them in conversation, I probably would have schizophrenia instead of a mood disorder.

I wanted to order food. I still might as I am getting hungry. I haven’t eaten anything except a protein bar. I think I will be alright as the other day all I did was eat. I didn’t overeat but I just ate more than I have the past few months. I had wanted a beer so I went to my sister’s apartment. While drinking it, she had chips on the counter so I had some. Then I made a sandwich. Unfortunately, I had a reaction to the beer, which sucks because it was good tasting. I ended up having to take some Benadryl. With in an hour or so my tongue and roof of my mouth were feeling normal. I have no idea what kind of hops were used and if it had ginger in it. I doubt it was the citrusy stuff.

I emailed my psych about falling into the abyss as I am so far down a black hole right now. I haven’t showered since sometime last week. I hate that I haven’t washed my hair since getting it cut on Friday. My head is so itchy. I would tonight but my damn foot is hurting to much to risk it. Pain is usually better in the morning but the rain is suppose to continue till the afternoon, so we’ll see. Really hope I can because I feel like crud.

garbage in my head

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, cauda equina syndrome, Chronic pain, chronic physical pain, CRPS, depression, mood disorders

Garbage in my head

I’ve had a lot of stuff happen since Friday. I did way too much in all of the activities I did on Friday that Saturday I could hardly move. My back had started acting up Friday night and woke me up with severe pain early Saturday morning that I really couldn’t go back to sleep. I was having a lot of PTSD where intrusive memories would come in or a video of all the events leading to my first cauda equina syndrome would play in fast forward. I had emailed my psych around 10pm and got a response. She said she was sorry and hoped that tomorrow would be better. I didn’t respond because I was hurting and drugged up too much. I know I responded when I woke up around 0730 or so. If she could decipher what I was saying, all the more power to her because I had no idea what the hell I was trying to say. I haven’t emailed her since. I have been in too much pain. My scar hurt so bad I thought it was going to burst and there was like a two inch area from each side of it going in a square down my back that hurt so damn bad. I’ve had back pain before but never like this. And my lower back was all screwed up as well. I tried putting lidocaine patches on them and it didn’t last an hour. The adhesive was burning me. I had nerve pain in my thigh all weekend. I kept putting lidocaine patches on. It helped a little but sucked when I had to take the patch off. Yesterday was a little better but pretty much the same as Saturday. I also had accidently peed myself without realizing it. So had to wear a diaper. I think the overload of the nerves just had enough. That one day of activity has made the pain so much worse. My foot hasn’t stopped hurting me since Saturday morning. I don’t know when things will calm down again.

The sucky part is that when I cleared my bed off to change the bedding, I had my eyeglass case that held my prescription sunglasses in it. I have no idea where it went as the case is no longer in my backpack or any visible place in my room. I might have placed it in another part of my bag but we’ll see. I found another case with a pair of sunglasses in it. It is not prescription but I guess it will have to do until I find this case. It might have fallen behind something or I put it somewhere “safe.” I don’t know. I just need to find it. I don’t have the money right now to buy another pair of prescription sunglasses. I might have to buy the cheap clips you put on the glasses. Not ideal, but at least it will save my eyes from the sun’s glare. I know I will find them when I am not looking for them.

Tomorrow I have an appointment with the brace clinic at one of the rehab hospitals in Boston. I am hoping they can either give me a new AFO (ankle foot orthotic) or at least adjust mine so that it doesn’t keep sliding when I walk. I have lost weight and I think my calf has atrophied a bit since I got it almost eight years ago. When I was re-evaluated about three years ago, they didn’t want to do anything because the insurance wouldn’t pay, which is total bullshit as I wasn’t on the insurance I am on now. I really think the place was not the best to go to as the PT and orthotic guy just seemed like they didn’t know what they were doing. I went to the pharmacy today and as I was walking back home, my back started seizing up on me. I hope I can get to this appointment without it killing me. I have therapy the following day. Why I decided to pick Wed instead of Thurs, I have no idea. That is total stupidity on my part.

My foot pain just went back up to a fucking 12. And I don’t even want to take a breakthrough med for it. I should but I feel so hopeless I don’t see the fucking point. I don’t even know how many days in a row I have been in a level 12 or higher pain. I am instantly suicidal and thinking of the best way to end it. I won’t act on it but fuck I so want to. Like why do I have to go through all this pain? I am filled with anxiety right now. I know my night just turned to shit. Sox haven’t been providing too much distraction these days. They had a 5-0 lead and now they lead by one in the 3rd. So typical of them. Ugly Ricky is pitching. He hasn’t been pretty all season. Actually, the only pitcher that has been showing some improvement is Eduardo Rodriguez. He has the most wins, though his ERA is higher than OverPrice. I can’t listen to the game anymore because I never know if the sound waves are going to hurt me or not. I am listening to the radio on my phone that is away from my leg. But that doesn’t mean anything. The air waves can fricken bother me. I am not in sensory overload yet, but that can happen quickly. Part of the CRPS (Complex Regional Pain Syndrome).

Since the afternoon DJ on the country radio station I listen to left, the one that does the evening has I think moved to that spot because there is another guy filling in the evening. I have no idea who he is. I haven’t listened to the station in a long time. Mostly it is because the app is finnicky. A message or if I open another app, it will shut off or it will close on its own. It is annoying so I pretty much stopped listening to it or will listen to it for short periods.

I weighed myself this morning and I am 3 pounds heavier. I am okay with this, only because I am eating again so I knew I was going to gain some weight. Saturday as I couldn’t move and pretty much slept all day, I didn’t eat or drink anything the entire day. I think I was just drinking what ever I was taking with my meds. It was the roughest day for me as I was in so much pain.

Sox are now leading by 4 in the 3rd. Maybe they can break it open. But I won’t hold my hopes up, just yet… I have attached the chronic pain scale so you can have an idea of what kind of pain I deal with on a daily basis.