Tag: psychological pain

King of Pain

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

King of Pain

I was listening to my MP3 player and this song came on. I thought it was perfect for today. I have had it on repeat because I like the melody and lyrics. It describes how I feel today. The song is by the Police. It is one of my favorite songs on their album Synchronicity.

I woke up early and was fidgety. I went to the Square to get my coffee and do a couple of errands. Now my bowels seem to have woken up since I came home. This sucks but I am glad that I am home and not out and about. The cramps are what is killing me. I don’t know if it’s air or crap. With CES, you never know so it’s always best to be on a toilet when you let loose. Otherwise, you might be sorry.

I might go out again after my therapy appointment. I won’t get another coffee, but I might get an iced tea. I really would like to read the psych book that I bought and have been neglecting to take with me. The only reason I don’t usually take it with me is because I don’t have my journal in the bag. But the thing is, I will either write or read. I usually won’t do both. We’ll see how therapy goes. If it’s favorable, I will go out. My psych got back to me. She wants me to page her this evening. I am glad I got a response from her.

I didn’t take my abilify last night and the voices are rampant. I don’t care. I trust them more than real people right now. I should have trusted them all along but the “real” people persuaded me otherwise. I can’t believe how stupid I have been. I texted Bozo telling her I am no longer taking the abilify and I am canceling next week’s sessions. I really don’t want to talk to her anymore. There is no point. She hurt me and I don’t think there is any reconciliation. Besides, I have the voices to talk to, who needs therapy. They understand me better than anyone. They can read my thoughts where as no one else can. Sometimes I don’t even have to talk to answer their questions.

I wanted to get my haircut today but I forgot the money to get it. Maybe I will get it before going to Starbucks to read, if I go back out. My foot is acting up so I am not sure if I will go out. I kind of had to put pressure on it today while on the bus so I didn’t go flying off my seat. I was on the new bus and it’s not made for short people. My feet dangle off the seat so I have to stretch to stay on the seat.

I hope three is the charm. My rear is killing me from going to the bathroom so many times. It’s not just irritation, but also nerve pain that I feel. It really sucks to have a bowel movement when you have cauda equina syndrome.

If I don’t make it back out today, I will read some Dostoevsky. I charged up my tablet last night. I found that the battery does last longer if you don’t have notifications going off. I disabled most of them. There really is no need as I have my phone and laptop and I hardly will use my tablet for messaging or sending email. I primarily use it only for the Kindle app. As long as the tablet doesn’t die on me or run out of memory for the books I buy, I will keep it. No point in getting another one. If it ain’t broke why fix it?

Five fucking hours

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, depression, mood disorders

Five fucking hours

I am so fucking glad these Oxygen people came for their equipment. I waited five fucking hours in my dead father’s apartment for them. They called me around 1445 to tell me they are lost. I was so pissed. The other guys knew where the apartment was. So annoying.

I got some stuff that I wanted from my father. Then when I was on my way home, my sister called and wanted me to bring home the eggs in the fridge. Really? You couldn’t tell me that when I was on the phone with you three hours ago?? I am so aggravated. Then on the bus this disabled lady comes on, and immediately spills her coffee at the front of the bus. The whole bus ride smelled like French vanilla. I got off three stops before my usual one to walk off the steam. I was so annoyed.

My mother called to ask if I ate. I haven’t had anything since I got to my father’s apartment at around 1000. I am not hungry because I am so aggravated. Maybe if I calm down, I will have something. I feel like ordering Chinese food but am afraid of spending $30 on food and not being able to eat it. I finally found a good restaurant that delivers, though you have to spend a minimum of $25 and they charge a delivery fee. So worth it though to have decent Chinese food.

I didn’t do anything but listen to music while at my father’s and go through some of his things. I took stuff off his wall that he had pinned up. He won’t be needing his reminders of doctors appointments anymore. I got a shaving kit that he never used. It must have been in his apartment for a while because there was at least an inch of dust on it. I also took the rest of his Ensure and his soap that wasn’t opened. My sister had bought him Dove because he got really dry skin and was scratching himself though he blamed it on bugs biting him. We had I don’t know how many exterminators come to his apartment and they never saw these bugs. After my father got some steroid cream, the bug bites stopped and we didn’t hear anything more of it. Though he kept spraying himself with alcohol to prevent bug biting him. He was a character.

I played the Powerball tonight because it’s $314 million. I played two quick pics. The first one has my father’s month and year of birth. The second has my Godfather’s birthday. Fucking weird. Hope it comes out.

sleeplessness, suicide, and other things

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

I took my night meds because I was feeling sleepy. Then I experienced some side effects. I think it was most likely withdrawal as I haven’t taken a pain med since last night. So I took one pill and now I am awake. I am listening to music and it’s keeping me awake. I know I should shut it off and try and get some sleep but I am not tired anymore. I hate when I wake up. It’s after midnight.

I started writing a blog/essay about my experience with dealing with the suicidality of the night before. I got to less than 200 words and gave up. I should have hand wrote it. Now the thoughts have escaped me. I hate when that happens. I really wanted to include it in my book.

The American Association of Suicidology will be having their annual conference in a couple days time. People are already meeting up and the conference doesn’t officially start until Thursday. I just care about what Jobes says. I hope he doesn’t have a pre conference workshop. I won’t be by my laptop Wednesday because I have an appointment with my psych. I also emailed her about my “episode”.

What strikes me about this episode is that there was no trigger other than intense psychache. My heart was being torn apart in a million pieces and I just wanted to die. I had the means to die. I just had to act but I didn’t. No one would know why I attempted to kill myself. I am not so sure either. I know I didn’t want to die in my room, not where someone close to me would find me. I never would be trusted again with my pills. And I am 40 years old to be treated like a child would be such an insult.

I honestly don’t know what would happen if I attempted and didn’t succeed in my house. That is something that I really don’t want to find out. I didn’t do anything to harm myself last night, as intense as the feelings were. And it seemed like they only lasted about ten minutes before they dissipated as fast as they appeared. I held out, again. My only question is, what about next time? Will I be so lucky, if that is the word to use?

In twelve hours I will find out if my therapist will honor my cancellation of our appointment. There has been no indication from her whether she will call me or not. So I am left wondering. I gave her plenty of time to cancel, more than 24 hours. But I don’t know if the blog that I sent her will void the cancellation. She will do that sometimes. I guess that is part of the reason why I can’t sleep. I am too worried about the what ifs. If she doesn’t call, I can leave my house earlier and get my Starbucks. I can also get my letter from my new PCP for my loan documentation that I need.

I continued the rant on Twitter about how the NP dismissed my depression as “stress”. I have never felt so offended before in my life. Stress is not something that causes depression or make you lose weight, your appetite, lose sleep, and feel worthless. I had all the physical symptoms of depression and she dismissed them. I can’t trust her anymore, not with my depression anyways. I have to keep the elephant in the room quiet now. I miss my old PCP. He understood. He was one of a kind. And the institution where he worked lost a great physician.