Tag: psychological pain

bubbles, torments, and suicide

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

Bubble, Torments, and Suicide

I don’t think I am going to get to sleep tonight. I am in severe pain again. I wish I could fall asleep like my body wants me to but my head and pain are keeping that from happening. I am not only in physical pain, but I am also in emotional pain. I have that darkness in my chest again and it’s weighing on me severely. It’s making things hard to see clearly. Everything is dark. I am again thinking of taking my life because of this darkness. I can see no other way through it, this time.
I have been taking my pain meds around the clock the last several days in an effort to control the physical pain. It works but soon as it wears off, I need to take another dose. Such it is with short acting medicines. I rather be on short acting ones than longer dose ones, though. I have been on long acting ones and frankly they messed me up more psychologically than my mental illness. I vowed never to go through that bullshit again. I will continue to take the short acting medicine because it is what I am used to and doesn’t hold that many side effects like it once did. I am used to it now.
Because it’s so late at night, the midnight demons have come out. I am again thinking of ending my life because that is what I think about at this hour. I can’t sleep because of pain, pain that the medicine can’t touch. The pain is called psychache, or emotional, psychological pain. There is no remedy for this pain. And it sucks. So, suicide becomes the method of choice to alleviate this pain. It doesn’t mean that I will act on it tonight. Far from it. Just thinking about ending my life and imagining about going through with it is enough to soothe the demons. You might think that is a crazy notion, but it’s true, least for me it is. I find that imagining my death is soothing. I don’t know why. I guess it is because it helps to control something I can’t control, like this pain in my chest that won’t go away.
The pain is stubborn. It resists all measures of relief. Love doesn’t help it, neither does someone caring for me. It’s a funny thing to be in this type of constriction when you want to end your life. All you can see is the end point and that is your death. You block out the people that care and love you. It’s like you just enter a world that is just filled with pain and no matter how many times someone says they love you, it just bounces off and you can’t feel it. It torments you because you know you are hurting that person by not reciprocating that love and care. But it’s too much pain you feel and you are locked in this bubble that no one can really touch. You are alone in this world, though people have constantly told you that you are not. It’s all a fallacy.
Psychache has other features that make it so that suicide is constantly on your mind. Perturbation is one. The need to constantly feel something and the need to do something to ease the psychache. And then you have Press. Press is something that is felt deep inside. It’s the inner workings similar to stress but takes on a different meaning. It is what drives the perturbation to new heights and carries the pain to new levels. All three when at a significant standing means suicide is imminent. Dr. Shneidman calls this the suicidal model of suicide. It’s a complicated but simple meaning of these three Ps. But that is for another discussion. I just know right now that my levels of these three Ps are varying like the weather. It is most difficult when my physical pain is increased. Unfortunately, when my physical pain is at it’s worse, I am immobile to do anything to cause my life to end. I keep telling myself, I will do it the following day when my pain is not at its worse. Fortunately, in the morning, I no longer feel that pressing need to end my life so I live to see another day.
Right now I am at that point where the three Ps are pressing on my heart very eagerly. I can hardly breathe, the weight is so strong. I don’t know what to do to make myself feel better. That is why I am writing this stupid blog. I hope that my thoughts get heard and someone can relate to them. I am not in danger, let me make myself clear on that. As much as I wish to die at this very moment, I don’t have a clear plan in doing so. It is the frustrating part of being suicidal. You want to end your life but you do not have the means to do so. It is sad. All I can do is wait until the meds kick in to ease my physical pain and then I will sleep for a few hours until they wear off and I need another dose of meds again. Such is the cycle.

Memes and other things

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

inspiration

My therapist friend sent me this meme today and it was what I really needed to help sort out my feelings for the day. It made me smile because he thinks of me in such a caring way. I hope you find it as uplifting as I did.

The temperature dropped severely and my back nearly went out on me. Because of this, I didn’t plan on going out. Then I found out today was National Guacamole Day and I needed a burrito, stat! I had planned on taking the 2 pm bus but I was able to finish my coffee in enough time to catch the one at 1 pm. Plus, my mother wasn’t home yet which possibly meant she was shopping and I didn’t want to be home to carry bags up the stairs. As it was fall like weather, I decided to wear jeans and was glad I did. After I had my burrito, I went to Starbucks for an iced tea. It was really cold there as they had the AC cranked. I had to put on my long sleeved T-shirt as I was cold. I felt like going outside to warm up.

I sat writing for an hour and a half. Today’s Daily Prompt word is Fragile. I kept thinking of something to write about it but I could only get one or two sentences going and that was it. I figure I would do better at home as the music at Starbucks was loud today and it was interfering with my music. Totally overloaded my brain trying to sort through the two different types of music playing. Once they started playing Spanish music, I decided to catch the bus home. I was out of there.

The bus was on time and the mentally disabled guy that I usually bump into on that bus ride wasn’t there today. He just makes me so damn nervous because his temper can go off at anything or he just wants a conversation where he just mumbles or asks you for money. I just find it unsettling.

On the walk home, I decided to go to Walgreens to get some Ben and Jerry’s chocolate brownie ice cream. They had every other flavor but that kind. I was tempted to get Haagan Daz Belgian chocolate as a substitute but I really wanted the Ben and Jerry’s kind. So I left the store, ice cream less.

Last night, much to my surprise, my therapist responded to a text I sent her about the pain I was in and how I was going to give up. She sent me a pic of her “hope drink” the snickers latte that I gave her the other day and a message of saying something like miracles do happen. I found it funny and responded back. I then watched the movie Liar Liar. I needed a comedy. Then I checked the Sox game and they were still losing by 3 runs. I took my meds and watched the final tweets as it was the bottom of the 9th inning and I didn’t think they would comeback but they were playing the Yanks so anything could happen. And they did! I was so fricken ecstatic! They won 7-5 with a walkoff homerun by Hanley Ramirez. It was the best comeback win of the season. That really made my night. Now we are in first place again.

Next week, I am going to try going to the MFA and see how I do. I am planning on going Tues afternoon after therapy. This is providing a whole slew of things going right for me, including my pain being in semi-control over the weekend and getting some decent sleep. I just hope that I don’t get lost in there again as I try and find my way out. That wouldn’t be good with my current mobility problems.

I kind of want to page my psychiatrist and let her know how I am doing. The last email I sent wasn’t terrific. I was really contemplating paging her last night when I was in dire straights. I kept on thinking to myself, what can I do differently because I had enough of just waiting for pain meds to kick in before I feel better. I was thinking of seeing a blasted CBT therapist for chronic pain but I have no idea if they exist in the Boston area. There is just one pain psychologist that I know of that works in the pain clinic at BWH. I don’t really have faith in him because according to his “assessments”, I am at risk for misusing my meds because I have a sexual trauma history. It’s a load of horseshit because if it was true, more than half of America would be hooked on drugs. Maybe I will email my psych and see if she knows someone that does CBT work in the area. There has to be someone in the greatest hospital that does some kind of CBT work.

As I was writing in Starbucks today, I realized it has been at least two weeks since I last read anything. I bought a copy of SE Hinton’s “That was then, This is now” book. I think I am going to read it over the weekend. It’s a short book and it will be fun as I enjoy her books. Eventually, I plan on getting the other two books that she has, Tex and Rumble Fish.

So Close

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

I was hoping to go to sleep before my foot or ankle decided to say hello to me tonight. Nope. Didn’t lie down quick enough. Actually, lying down is actually a kind of trigger. Seems my pain is worse when I lie down versus when I am sitting up. Now my foot is doing a curling thing so I had to take some Ativan to calm the fucker down.

I am tempted to text my therapist or email my psychiatrist to ask if I can have an amputation on my ankle if I can’t kill myself. It’s a long shot but I figure there is no harm asking. While I was lying down before the pain erupted, psychache hit me square in the chest. So now I have both types of pain going on and I am ready to jump off a bridge. It’s a good thing I don’t have a car to get to where I am going. There are no bridges in my area that are high enough to kill me, except the Tobin but it’s a bitch to get to and you do need a car.

I don’t know if I am going to get out of this episode that I am in. I feel like if I don’t go through with it, I am a loser. If I at least attempt it, that will be something. If I fail, at least I can say I tried and then deal with the consequences, horrible though they will be. If I succeed, well then this blog will be all that is left behind. None of this will happen in the next few days so if you are thinking of saving me, you are wasting your time. These are just my thoughts that are running through my head at this particular moment in time.

Pain is causing me so much grief. I feel like I am losing it, not that I actually had things to begin with. The black coat of depression is pressing on me very closely. I have been trying to master the lyrics to the song “Make you miss me” by Sam Hunt. I heard it twice today on the radio and messed up the lyrics. Pissed me off. I wanted to share the lyrics and song with my therapist but I was too afraid she would cry. I did share two songs with her today, Reckless by Martina McBride and Don’t think I don’t think about it by Darius Rucker. It helps me to share music with her. I have a knack for songs finding me when I am hurting or need to express myself.

My Sox lost and I think they are no longer in first place. I am upset. They should have had these games but their offense was dead. There are only 17 games left in the season or that count toward the pennant race. I am so nervous about these games. It’s not helping my mood any.

I seriously want to email my psychiatrist and ask her if she thinks I am going to escape this episode that I am in. I just don’t see a way out. I don’t want to go into the hospital. It won’t help me. I might be fine for a few days to a week but the suicidal stuff always comes back. It’s like a monkey on my back. And the longer I go without an attempt, the stronger it becomes. I haven’t made an attempt in years. I don’t know if I am hopeless. I don’t feel it. I feel nothing but blackness. I just don’t know what is going to keep me connected to this world. I hope the pain meds kick in soon so I can get at least my physical pain will be taken cared of.

The Emotional Therapist

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

The Emotional Therapist

I had therapy today. It didn’t go as I thought it would. Actually, I have no idea how it would go as our sessions are as varied as the day is long. She got my text about my plan and then proceeded to have a breakdown. She felt like I was leaving her, for good and she couldn’t bear the pain so I got to hear it in her voice. She struggled all session to keep composure. It was the most difficult session I have ever had. She kept saying that she wanted me to see her so I basically deposited money I was saving for the month in my account so I could get a zipcar for tomorrow.

So much went on in those fifty minutes today. I shut down as I didn’t know what to say or how to act to my therapist crying. She wanted to know what was really going on. But I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it. The thought of me not being there anymore was too much for her to think about. At one point, I tried to steer the conversation but it backfired on me. I told her to get the baseball on her desk, which is our code word when she is anxious and she said she wanted me to throw it at her. Not the response I was looking for.

I realized today that we don’t have a therapeutic relationship governed by the “rules” of therapy anymore. It’s more of a relationship of some sort and I really don’t know how to process this. I feel like I again blundered my own death by telling my therapist I was suicidal again. I just didn’t know it was going to be such an emotional session today. I feel really bad that I am affecting her this way and I just want to run away from her very badly now more than ever. Just cut the cord and see you but she is too possessive of me to let go. We have been together approximately 16 years. That is a long time and I had no idea how much I affect her. I had a glimpse of it more than 10 years ago. I was suicidal at the time and I was dead serious, like I am today, about ending my life. She cried then as well and we worked through that episode. That was before I found out about CAMS and psychache and the American Association of Suicidology.

Suicide talk still freaks the fuck out of my therapist. She did most of the talking today and I just let her ramble on, even though it probably should have been the reverse. I am just not emotional anymore. It takes a lot for me to cry and to feel hurt. Other than that I am just a pile of deadwood, not feeling much of a damn thing. I just know that ending my life is what needs to happen to stop the relentless agony I am in day after day after day after day and night after night. All I see in my future is pain and that is not a good feeling to have. It’s dread and it sucks.

I hope tomorrow isn’t a continuation of today. I won’t be able to handle it, not in person anyway. I tweeted to a therapist friend and he gave me at least 5 reasons why therapists are afraid of suicide, which coincided with my theories on the matter.