Dyadic suicides are those in which death relates primarily to the deep unfulfilled needs and wishes pertaining to the significant other-the partner in the important current dyad in the victim’s life. These suicides are primarily social in their nature.-Edwin Shneidman, Definition of Suicide
Tag: psychological pain
Pain in the thigh and other things
Pain in the thigh and other things
I still feel low and in the dumps. As expected, my therapist told me all the reasons why I should be living. She even wants me to publish the blog I wrote last night. I don’t know why. I don’t think it’s any good. But then, it has so many hits today that it must be good. People don’t read something bad. I just feel like I am wasting my time living and all I can do is express myself the best I know how.
I did the errand for my father. I was walking with a cane because my leg is not feeling so good. I had twitches last night and it left it sore as hell. I can barely walk. He laughed when he saw me with the cane. That is my father for you. He only cares about himself and that is all. I feel worse after my excursion to his house and back. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just know I really didn’t want to go to his place tomorrow so I did it today. Now I am hurting more and all I want to do is take my pain meds and go to sleep.
Groceries came today. Putting them away was the start of my agony. I was walking all over the house putting the groceries here and there where they belonged. The fridge was full so I had limited space to put my refrigerated items. I got “permission” to eat my pumpkin pie as my sister is making one. I think that will be my dinner. I was going to make my steak but I don’t feel like cooking. I haven’t eaten too much today. I had a yogurt, some cottage cheese, and a pop tart. Now I feel like puking. I don’t even think I am going to go over my sister’s for Thanksgiving tomorrow. I really don’t want to be around anyone. I am just feeling so miserable.
This thigh pain that I am feeling really scared me. It reminded me about the time nine years ago I had my surgery. It took months to get it back to functioning. My therapist called it PTSD as I had an anxiety attack about an hour and a half before our session. The pain was so bad that it just caused anxiety for me. I told her about my feelings last night where I wanted to drink alcohol after I took my night meds. I thought better of it as whiskey and baclofen probably would not be a good idea. I hadn’t taken any pain meds because I wasn’t in any pain. I just had this twitching going on. I emailed my psychiatrist but I haven’t heard back from her. I also emailed her my story. I did take some Ativan too to stop the damn twitching after it went on for about two and half hours. I am so sick of worrying whether I am going to get cauda equina syndrome again or not. Every time I have some weird pain in my leg, I freak out and panic. I have been on edge all day. But the pain isn’t radiating and it’s not affecting my bowels or bladder. I have to go through a checklist every single time I get pain in my leg or back. If I don’t have this then I don’t have that. It’s awful. That is why I can never recover from PTSD. I am always triggered.
My heaviness in my heart is still there. The fact that I have found a song that equates my feelings perfectly helps. Jennifer Nettles just came out with a new song called “unlove you”. It’s another good sad song. But it doesn’t touch me as much as “Mixed Drinks about Feelings”. My therapist today was quiet most of the time. She really wanted to listen to me today though she wanted to go off on me. I don’t think she can tolerate my sadness. It brings her to want to do something to help me but there is nothing that she can do. Listening to her when she did speak did help me. It gave me some hope that there might be a tomorrow. I can’t tolerate today. It’s too painful.
A childhood friend of mine posted a meme about transgender. It was something like we shouldn’t make processed foods so why should we have processed people, meaning transgenders. It was that most offensive thing I have ever seen. I stopped following him. He has been irritating me for a while now and now I have to unfollow him because of his ignorance. This is part of the reason why I don’t seek treatment. I am too afraid of the discrimination I will face.
Quote of the Day 25 Nov 2015
“When people are suicidal, their thinking is paralyzed, their options appear spare or nonexistent, their mood is despairing, and hopelessness permeates their entire mental domain. The future cannot be separated from the present, and the present is painful beyond solace. ‘This is my last experiment,’ wrote a young chemist in his suicide note. ‘If there is any eternal torment worse than mine I’ll have to be shown.”
heavy heart full of pain
Heavy heart full of pain
I have been in a funk the past few hours. I thought it was because I didn’t eat for several hours but I had dinner and my heart sunk lower than it did before eating. I feel really miserable. I just feel really depressed and I don’t know why. That is the hardest part of dealing with this illness. It just takes so much just to go from a to b. I did a lot today but I still feel like I am useless. I feel like I have no purpose. I texted my therapist to tell me it is worth one’s while to live, but I haven’t heard back. I honestly don’t expect a response. She probably will give me a response tomorrow.
I just feel like my heart can’t take any more pain that I am feeling. It is getting to be unbearable. You would think that I would be used to it by now but I am not. It just rips my heart to pieces when the pain is so heavy. It clouds your thinking, but you don’t see it. Everyone seems happy around you and you try to be but inside you are dying. You can’t help but think of death. Least that will stop the hurting. You think of drinking your sorrows away. You think of anything that will ease your hurt. But nothing helps this heavy heart. It weighs on you like a boulder.
No one notices your pain. There are no outward signs that you are in misery. You put on a brave face and no one is the wiser. It is exhausting. It is tiring. It drags you down so deep that you don’t ever think you will reach the surface again. You are just stuck in a tunnel that has no light at the end of it. Nothing brings you joy or pleasure. Not even that one cup of coffee you used to enjoy. It’s tasteless now. Everything tastes bland. What used to have flavor no longer does. It’s so hard to find something you enjoy only to have it taken from you. The anhedonia is so awful. It also makes death more welcoming.
Depression keeps taking and the more you fight it, the more you want to give up. It’s like trying to keep the waves at bay when you are facing a tsunami. The waves are crushing you bit by bit. And you keep wondering why this is happening to you, that you must be a bad person to feel this way. I just think I am a worthless person that everyone seems to think that I am worthwhile. They are sadly mistaken. There is nothing worse than false hope. Yet that is what keeps some days, like today, a little brighter: hope. I wish you can bottle it and take it as a pill sometimes when your heart is weighing you down, because then you are so out of it that nothing seems to matter. You are just thinking of ending your life and that is all that matters to you. No one understands the struggle. No one wants to bear your pain. You are alone though people often tell you are not. They are not with you in the depths of your despair, when it’s 3 am and you are clinging on to the rafters because the waves are overwhelming you. No, death is much more pleasurable than living. Sleep offers no solace from the terrors you face. It is short, too short to offer any comfort anymore. It seems to happen in a blink of an eye. A constant state of sleep deprivation doesn’t help the depression or the aching soul.
Death must happen swiftly to ease the broken heart. It’s the only remedy this disease calls for. The pain is too much for the heart to take. The weight is too much to bear. It screams louder than the pain inside. It’s like a tea kettle without the whistle. The pressure building but no release valve in sight. One day the heart will beat no more and the misery will end.
midnightdemons7 
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