Tag: psychological pain

suicide attempt survivor, some thoughts

by Midnight Demon, posted in depression, suicide attempt, suicide attempt survivor

Today I wrote to my writing friend to ask for her help in getting someone to read my book just to see if it was ok or mediocre or sucks. I got a couple of people so that made my day. Then I started thinking of how she phrased the request. I know she used the term “suicide attempt survivor”. She uses that term whenever she refers to me. Every time I hear it, I can’t help but feel embarrassed, ashamed, and labeled. I wouldn’t necessarily say that I am hurt. I am not. I just feel weird being called such a term when I don’t feel like a survivor at all. I feel like I am a dead weight, much like a bookend.

I know she means well and I have not told her how I feel because I am not sure how to approach it. Most survivors that write on the AAS blog feel empowered and most like me don’t want to live life but have to. Others feel like their attempt was a blessing and they are happy they survived it. I don’t feel that way. I just feel like I should be dead, pushing up daisies or dandelions or something. I honestly have no jest for living but I just go on because I feel like I have to. Yet sometimes, I feel like I have to die, like it is my only way out of the situation I am in. I am lucky I have a good therapist that wants me here no matter what. Even though the voices in my head are against her right now, I am glad she is here to tell me that I have to go on, if only to publish my book. But what then? What do I do then when my feelings and life story are out in the world, much like this blog? I still have feelings of suicide and I guess I always will. You can throw away these feeling you have been having for more than thirty years.

But why do I feel embarrassed by this term? Why do I feel labeled? It is, after all, an accurate description. I have survived multiple suicide attempts, one that was medically serious enough to land me on a medical floor in the hospital. Yet despite all these tries, I survived them. I lived through them. So why do I feel like I can’t call myself a suicide attempt survivor?? Or do I need to? There is a growing awareness in the suicidology field that want to hear these people stories. Sure, they are rich for research purposes to help prevent more suicides. Once you attempt suicide, you are at risk for life of doing so again, no pun intended. Others are just curious because they find that taking your life is so unphathomable. I find this interesting. That there are people out there that cannot understand why someone would want to take their life. I feel bad for these people because they have never known hardship or mental illness. Yet even those with hardship never think of killing of themselves. I guess I am just one of the ones that do. I come from a poor background. I paid my way through college though I never did finish my degree because my mental illness got in the way. I have more W’s on my transcript than grades. Yet I still want to finish my degree at the same institution one day, if they will take me back. I do have that hope. I don’t know if it is realistic or not. Only time will tell. I am getting older without realizing it and this troubles me. I never dreamed of living to be in my thirties, yet I am. I have good genes on both sides of my family so I know if I don’t kill myself, I will live to the eighties or nineties. I don’t want this to happen. I don’t want to grow old. It is something that I never wanted to have happen. But I can’t stop time. My birthday comes whether I like it or not, most times not. Every year I think of it as my last. I have no future that I can see. So am I really a survivor?

for want of a nap

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, depression

Today is my down time day. I really just worked a little bit on my manuscript and then had to take a nap, except I didn’t fall asleep because I was friggen freezing in my room! I still got this damn cold that just won’t go away. Today I decided to increase my fluid intake because I think I was dehydrated. Dark urine is usually a good indicator. And now I am peeing my brains out. Every half hour I have to friggen pee. WTH!!

Bad news of today is that I really want to cut again. Not sure what triggered it as my manuscript was focused on my psychiatrist and there is nothing there that would make me want to cut. I guess I am just feeling annoyed and have to get rid of the feeling the only way I know how. But I have a possible wake/funeral to go to so I don’t want to be marking up my arm. I wrote my therapist another letter this morning as I was up at 0430. I was able to get back to sleep around six and sleep till ten so I was glad about that.

I really feel like I am losing my mind, or what is left of it anyways. A friend wanted to get together today but I told him I had stuff to do, family stuff. I was debating seeing my aunt who is really sick but seeing as I am sick, it probably would not be a good idea to see her. This is the second time in my life that she has been ill and I get a friggen cold and can’t see her. It’s just really tough. Plus, I don’t want my last memories of her to be sick. I heard she had a really hard time yesterday. I hope today is a better day for her.

I have been feeling really sad because I know my aunt is going to die soon. The hardest part is the waiting. They gave her 5-10 days to live because she is so sick. I hope that it is sooner just so my cousin (her daughter) doesn’t have to suffer longer than she has to watching her mother die. It has to be the toughest thing in the world to see. It just breaks my heart. I love them both so much. But my aunt has lived a long life. She is 91. My fondest memories of her is her always making food whenever we stopped by to see her. She would literally make us something and would get so mad if we didn’t eat it. Most of the time we almost always ate before coming to see her so we weren’t that hungry. But because she only speaks Italian, it was hard to explain to her why we didn’t want to eat. Or that we spent every holiday over her house growing up. After my parents divorced, we kind of were out of the loop about my family. My cousin had another baby and we didn’t even know about it. My other cousins had kids and we didn’t know about it until after the fact. These kids don’t know me and I find that sad.

Now if I could only take a nap I would be happy…

Is suicide ever justifiable?

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, CES, chronic physical pain, depression

Is suicide ever justifiable?

I read an article about this today and it has me thinking. Would my suicide be justifiable? I am living in chronic physical pain every day that is sometimes helped by opioid medication but yet is not at times. I suffer from depression but no anti-depressant seems to help me. I am on a mood stabilizer that helps with the ups and downs but doesn’t help with the lows that I get. So would my death be justifiable because I have exhausted every available method of treatment for both conditions? I think I have. I think it is time that suicide should be given more thought. It isn’t wrong. It isn’t selfish. Sure there would be people that would miss me but if they know that I have tried everything and it all failed, I think they would rather have me dead than suffer. I cannot not go on suffering like this anymore. Everyday it is a battle. Which pain will cause me more suffering, mental or physical and lately physical has been winning. I am losing the battle and there is no one I can talk to about this. Even if there was someone to talk to about this, they wouldn’t understand. They would want me to try harder but I am tired. I am so very tired of fighting this losing battle I cannot win. So I have been making up my own rules. I have been dosing myself without regard to time tables. If I hurt I take something no matter the hour. But my mental pain is a whole another story.

This pain creeps on your and stays with you like a parasite. It grows on your fears and your doubts and your sorrow like no tomorrow. And nothing eases this hurt. I am frustrated by the psychiatric community that has not found a cure for this kind of ache. This all encompassing ache that is deep down in the soul and blacks out all the good in the world and in your heart. I was free from it at one point but it has recaptured me. Whether it is because the physical pain has gotten to be too much I do not know. I just know it hurts to breathe. It hurts to think. It hurts to be. And I don’t want to be anymore.

They say that if you are suicidal you are not in your right mind. That if you give yourself time, you will not think about it in a week or two. I have thought of killing myself for too long. I want this suffering to end. I am a lowly human being that deserves to die. I have done many things wrongs in my life. But I still feel that I am in my rational mind. In ancient times, if the citizen asked the government three times to die the wish was granted on the third attempt. Why can we have the same kind of rules now? I have asked my treaters if I should die and yet they want me to continue to live in this painful existence. If I was suffering from cancer, would that change their mind? No one is guaranteed a tomorrow. I am just asking that I be put to death to end my suffering because there is no cure for my ailments.

Cauda Equina Syndrome Thirteen years later

by Midnight Demon, posted in cauda equina syndrome

On this day in 2001, I was showing symptoms of Cauda Equina Syndrome and didn’t know it. I just knew I was in a lot of pain and couldn’t walk or feel my toes. As time progressed this would happen to my right foot and then I knew I was in trouble. I called my psychiatrist a couple days later because I had an appointment to see her. I told her what was going on and she said to call an ambulance right now. I never heard her be so stern before. And couldn’t figure out why she was freaking out. I was in another world of pain and misery that I really didn’t care. But I know that I needed help and I got it later that night. I was in the ER for hours before they finally figured out I have this “Cauda Equina’ syndrome, what ever that was. No one bothered to explain it to me. I was left on my own in figuring it out but I know that I couldn’t walk. I was twenty-five years old and I was in a wheelchair. The residents were telling me I had to have emergency surgery. I felt like I was in a daze, that this wasn’t happening to me. So I asked if this surgeon was a board certified surgeon. She wasn’t but she was “eligible” whatever that meant. I said no, I wanted a board certified surgeon or there was not going to be any surgery. So at five in the morning I got my surgeon and he said I was going to the OR in an hour or so. I bawled. I didn’t know what to do after this. I still kept thinking all I needed was physical therapy and pain meds and maybe a walking device and I would be ok. No, I had to have surgery to preserve what I was losing. Luckily my bladder wasn’t too much effected by all this and I had a good surgeon whose only mistake was putting me on the wrong antibiotic, which later caused a staph infection two weeks later. I still feel like if I was place on the right antibiotic, I wouldn’t have needed a second surgery to clean out the gunk in my surgical bed. I am just grateful they got it in time or I would have been in worse shape.

This happened over thirteen years ago and I still remember it like it was yesterday. I guess you never really forget something like this happening to you. The most humiliating thing was that I couldn’t go to the bathroom on my own. It took several nurses to hold me up and another to wipe me off. You don’t forget something like that easily. You also don’t forget relearning how to walk again, this time with something called AFOs because your feet are still doing flip flops by themselves. You have no control over your feet. You have no idea where they are. Your balance if off and this is a terrifying time. Because it’s been more than three days and you still can’t feel your toes. Doctor said it would be three days and I would be up and walking. What a lie. He didn’t know the damage I suffered. He didn’t care that I was going to be in rehab for quite a while. His job was done. He did the surgery and that was what he was supposed to do. The rest was my job, though no one told me what it was. I had to figure it out all on my own. And I did figure it out months later when I was walking with a cane and visiting a support group for those suffering my condition. Some had it worse than I did. Some had it the same but had bowel and bladder problems. I guess I was one of the lucky ones that just had the foot drop and weird walking moves. I learned everything I could about the nerves and dermatomes. That helped me to understand where my pain was coming from.

Today I still have the AFO. It might not be the same one I had thirteen years ago but it works. It helps me walk without pain. And that is all that I care about at this point in the game.