Tag: psychotherapist

About depression that I have to get off my chest

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

About depression that I have to get off my chest

There has been a LOT of talk lately about depression being treatable. Let me say first, that for some, it is. Therapy has been helpful to some in dealing with it. Medications and therapy still prove to be useful in treatment of depression or actually any mental illness. It was once thought that schizophrenia was a medication only illness. But I learned through one of my suicidologists that isn’t always true, as there was a paper written by him about he helped decrease an individual’s suicide risk by seeing him weekly or more if suicide was more present. It helped the patient feel cared for. If I find the article in my files, I will share it if you care to read it.

I am in no way saying you should NOT get help if you are feeling depressed. But my experiences (which are not the same to the whole depression population) beg to differ. I have yet to find anything that helps the mood shifts. Since my long time therapist stopped seeing me for reasons I have still yet to learn, I have been the most unstable and hopeless I have been in the 16 years I was in “treatment” with her. We had our disagreements about treatment. Transference and countertranferences were helpful at times but were no long lasting. She stuck with the way she was treating me and I stuck to being, well, depressed and suicidal.

What I have to get off my chest is that sometimes, depression is untreatable in a small percentage of people. There is such a thing as treatment resistant depression. Despite ECT (“shock” therapy), medication, and therapy, one can still feel depressed. There are a trillion reasons for this. Sometimes it has to do with the trauma one experienced. Some has to do with biology itself, that the genetic predisposition of a person makes them depressed. Other times it has nothing to do with a trauma or situation. It just happens that you start withdrawing from life, slowly at first and before you know it, you can’t go back to things you loved because, frankly, you are too depressed. Sometimes you maybe too depressed to seek help and a friend or family member needs to push you to get it. The thing is, depression still exists despite treatment. Some people have suffered depression for years and have never told a single soul. They are the small percentage that still go on with their episodes after they pass. They are less likely to die by suicide. Hell you don’t NEED depression to end your life. It has happened. Look at the Shawshank Redemption movie. The warden was “well” mentally and rather than be arrested and humiliated, he killed himself. Would anyone have thought he would do such a thing? No. And that is what my point is. Although we know what the risks are for suicide, depression and mental illness is only a small window into those risks. There are some people who die that have no history of mental illness yet die by suicide. I won’t go into more discussion about it because this is a loaded issue. I suggest reading the Myths and Facts of Suicide by Thomas Joiner. It is a really good book about what I am talking about.

I can only talk about my experience, no one else’s. I have been depressed since I was 8, maybe younger. I only know this because I started thinking suicide was a good idea at that age. I was 10 when I tried to end my life for the first time. I suffered from depression and after taking Prozac, became bipolar because the medication caused mania like symptoms. Not once during my years of being on medication AND therapy did my thoughts of suicide leave me fully. Neither did depression. There were brief times where I felt contentment. I honestly don’t believe in happiness. Like anger, it is a fleeting emotion and doesn’t last. But feeling contentment does happen for me and I sometimes feel comfortable in it. I know it isn’t going to last long. It never does. The depression always finds a way back, maybe not right away but it does come back. Despite some of my successes in life, graduating from high school, getting my Associate’s degree, publishing two books, I still was depressed. I was elated for a little while but it was fleeing. Just like when I wrote the article for the New York Times. I couldn’t believe and still don’t, that it happened. I still have the check that one day I will frame along with the article. But soon after all the paperwork was filed and I was waiting for it to be published, I was intensely depressed. The New York fucking Times was publishing something I wrote and instead of being happy as a pig in shit, I was depressed. I learned that no matter what my success in life was, no matter how much money I made, good job that I had, I was going to always be depressed. I could do one of two things. I could accept that this was the way it was always going to be or fight it. I chose to accept it.

I knew I had been fighting it since I was 16 that I would always have to take medication for my mental illness. It wasn’t easy but I knew if I was to avoid a lifetime of hospitalizations, I would need to take medicine to hold off the demons. Yet despite this theory, I was still hospitalized. Many times. Some times it was like a revolving door during my worst episodes. In 1994, I suffered a huge major depressive episode. I was hospitalized almost every two weeks and then for two months because I tried to end my life. It was one of the lowest periods of my life. I couldn’t bring myself to do anything. Showering didn’t matter. I gained a ton of weight from the meds I was put on. I started living an almost double life. The life the psychiatrists wanted to see and who I really was at home, when I was by myself. Hopelessness was rampant and totally lost on me. I can’t say that I got better. I just got better at hiding from myself, to keep the darkness at a minimum so I wouldn’t be committed at the age of 19 to a state hospital. Even then the façade I built was hard to put down. I just did what I was told to do and when I felt like acting on my feelings of suicide, I told my therapist or psychiatrist, which inevitably led to another hospitalization. But the hospitals in the 1990s were different than they are today. Today they are nothing but holding pens. Two maybe three days you are in and then you are out. If you need more help and have an outpatient therapist, you see them. You don’t need to be in. Maybe you stay for a week or two. But never more than that. Insurance won’t pay for it. And you don’t really get “treated”. You are watched 24/7 to make sure you don’t harm yourself. You might find a “treatment team” that listens but that is ALL THEY DO. They don’t help you in what you came in for. That is for you and your outpatient therapist to work out. If you don’t have one, you might get referred to someone. I’ve never been in that situation so not sure how that works.

I have lost faith that my illness is “treatable”. Seems no matter what I do, I end up depressed or just stay depressed. I am okay with that. I’ve known for a while that there is no longer an antidepressant out there for me. I am grateful my mood stabilizer still works. I just hope that it does fuck up my sodium levels and I need to some off it. Then I will be really screwed. In that sense, I still take my meds because they help. I no longer have commanding voices every day and the accompanying paranoia and delusions. I have to take a med for that every day. But therapy is still elusive. I honestly don’t know if it helps. Talking with someone honestly, like writing this blog, has been useful. Sometimes it feels good to talk to my therapist and leave knowing that someone understands, even if he thinks I am crazy. He said that he is “taking my lead”, which I am not sure about but it is a learning curve like anything else. And I will stress again, that if you aren’t comfortable with the person you are talking to, if they make you uncomfortable or just not getting it, find someone else. There are a lot of different therapists out there. A lot of different degrees as well (but all should be licensed by the state you are in, if they aren’t, I wouldn’t see them). It will take some time to know if they fit with you. The average is about 3 or 4 sessions. Any more than that might be a waste of time if there is no connection.

suicidal turmoil

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

Suicidal turmoil

***note this is just talk. No action. Just expression of feelings of suicide. If this bothers you, do not read***

My mood has been all over the place today. Last night I was feeling really suicidal. I was exhausted after a chat and wanted to sleep but my thoughts wouldn’t let me rest peacefully. I wanted to email my psychiatrist but I couldn’t come up with the words as my exhaustion out ranked my thought process. Eventually, I did find sleep.

I woke up in the middle of the night because of pain. I took my pain meds, made note of the time, and then went back to sleep. I woke up before my med alarm as I had to use the bathroom. I decided to stay up because I knew that if I went back to sleep, I’d feel like shit.

I got hungry and so made breakfast. I then had time to catch the bus, even though it was an hour earlier than I wanted to go to the square. Oh well. I took my time getting dressed. It was cool out so I had to switch things to my jeans from my shorts. I decided to wear a long sleeve T shirt rather than a sweatshirt. I figure it would be light and if I got hot, I could take it off. It was a beautiful day out. My pain was there but it was manageable. I got to Starbucks and had my espresso. Then I got my journal out and started writing as I wanted to keep it updated with what happened with my appt with the pain doc.

As I was writing, my mind kept going to suicidal thoughts. I wanted to write some more about suicide but I didn’t know what to write. It kept forming in my head. I looked in my bag for a notebook or notepad and there wasn’t one. GAH! Seriously??? I had bought a million notebooks and notepads and this bag was “empty”??? Guess I was off to Bob Slate in Harvard Square to get my favorite kind. I wrote down some more things in my journal and then went to get my med scripts before going to Harvard.

I got to Harvard and the place had change. I don’t remember the last time I was there. The newspaper stand had closed and it kind of changed the whole place. There was a new CVS next to the bank, which was also new. It was a jewelry place before. Starbucks was besides it. There was still construction going on in front of the Au Bon Pain. I still have no clue what they are doing. The construction has been going on for a couple years now. I went to Bob’s and got two notebooks. I only needed one but the other one was a composition type and was for quick notes. I thought it was cool so I bought it. I stayed away from the pen aisle but talked with the guy at the pen desk about refills. There are a couple of pens where I want black ink as they have blue ink right now. The lady became insistent that I bring in the pen to make sure I buy the right one. I am not a naïve pen person but thought it a good idea to do so. I asked what the price range for them were and she said $5 and up. I said I would be back. I’ll probably go Friday before my psychiatrist’s appointment.

I started walking down Mass Ave, not sure if I wanted to catch the bus down to my therapist’s office or just walk there. I got to the corner where there were some benches and sat down for a bit to drink some water. My bladder was telling me it had to go so I waited a little more, just taking in the surroundings and nice weather. I miss being in that part of town so much. It was like going down memory lane. I just started walking toward my therapist’s office. It was farther than I thought it was. I kind of figured that as the numbers were higher at Harvard than the other train station I usually get off. That part of Mass Ave had changed a lot. There was an Indian buffet restaurant, a Domino’s, a Dunkin Donuts. It was amazing to see all these new businesses.

By the time I reached my therapist’s office, I had walked off my suicidal writing energy. I went up to the floor and used the bathroom, then sat in the waiting room for an hour. I played on my phone for a bit and then I took out my journal to write some more. I tried to remember what I wanted to write about but nothing was coming to me. The bug had worn off. I wish I could walk off those feeling whenever ever they occurred. It would be a huge help to me but I know that might not always work due to pain.

I told my therapist right away about my suicidality and how my week went. A lot of stuff was stirred up. I forgot how much my PTSD was flared because of what happened in PT and then with the pain that activated the Cauda Equina Syndrome memories and surgeries, relearning to walk, etc. We talked about it and he listened to my suicidal ramblings. He didn’t ask if I was safe, didn’t get me off topic with plans or crisis stuff. He just listened and inputted his thoughts when I had finished. He does want me to see him twice a week just to have someone to talk to. He thinks I am too isolated. I explored it a little bit and I told him that was scary to me. I don’t know why. He playfully said that he shaves down the horns. LOL I told him I would think about it and let him know next week. I told him I would be on the new pain medicine and hope that would calm down flares and help me regain some things that I have lost.

When I got home and was thinking over the session, I wanted to cry. I never had a therapist that listened to my suicidal thoughts, plans, and other stuff before, in detail. I felt good about it and it made me feel better knowing I had someone to talk to about this stuff, the hardest stuff I can possibly talk about. He told me he wouldn’t be able to stop me unless I was telling him right then and there I was going to end my life after I left his office. It is Massachusetts law to protect someone from themselves or others. He didn’t give me an ultimatum, a do this or else scenario. I was appreciative because I never had that before. I never talked about how much I was feeling about suicide because safety was always first and foremost. Then add in a therapist’s anxiety and the whole thoughts about why you are suicidal are lost, never to be spoken about. For 27 years, no one heard me out after I said the “S” word. It was like the why are you suicidal didn’t matter and containment was more important. By then, the session was over and you were more frustrated because you were in this bind where you promised if you were going to act on your feelings, this and that had to happen and if it didn’t, you were on your way to the hospital to be admitted for a few days or more.

This is where suicide prevention gets mucky. You have a suicidal person and instead of listening to what they are going through that is making them think about ending their lives, they need to “prove” they are safe when they walk out that door until the next session with the therapist or psychiatrist. The client/patient may get angry they are being put in a bind and not heard. This has happened my entire suicidal career. Now I have someone that cares about me, wants to listen to me, and knows that if I really want to end my life, there is nothing he can do to really stop me. He is the perfect therapist for me and it is scaring me because I am expecting metaphorical handcuffs on my thoughts but they aren’t coming. I am free to talk about suicide as long as I don’t act on these feelings. It is freeing. It is validating. It is helpful. And I am grateful that I have someone like this.

I don’t know if I can see him twice a week because financially, that will be double the copay a month. Not to say that I will be able to make every session because I can’t always do that. We talked about that too. He understands that I have a chronic health condition that makes going out impossible some days. But he still wants to help me. He isn’t going to slam the door or give me an ultimatum saying I need to see him every week or else, which was what I was fearful about. He is a laid back therapist and I like this. I have to admit that my suicidologist instincts about him not using CAMS or some other EBP was freaking me out. How could I talk to him if he wasn’t going to measure the level of suicidality on a piece of paper? But I realized today, you don’t need that stuff to make suicide prevention/intervention happen. You just *need to talk*.

Ceiling fan replaced, finally!

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

Ceiling fan is replaced, finally!

My brother in law finally replaced the ceiling fan today. Hoorah! Even though the one my mother had looked the same like mine, it was different. The light fixture on mine had like 3 settings whereas my mother’s only had two, off and on. I like this better. It has 4 lights but I only use 2 as they provide enough light for me to see. I mostly use my desk lamp as sometimes the ceiling fan light is too bright, like it is now. I will change lights when I take my meds in a couple of hours.

I was supposed to get one of my meds refilled last week and forgot so when I was filling my med box for the week, I had to order them. I made it so it would be ready in a couple of hours as I didn’t want to miss a dose. I hate missing meds because my brain forgets things. It’s my hormone pill so I can’t miss one as I don’t want my menses, though I found out in my last admission that I could miss up to 3 days. Fuck that. I probably will have to come off them anyway when I go for testosterone. I won’t find that out until Feb when I meet with the LGBT doc.

I see my psych tomorrow and will need refills on two meds as I don’t have anymore. She had told me that MGH will be having an LGBT clinic soon. Seeing as I don’t get MGH notifications anymore other than what is on twitter, I will ask her to tell me when they are up and running. It will be more convenient than where the LGBT doc is as that is in the heart of Boston. I think I am going to chance taking the later bus. I usually leave an two hours before my appt so I can write and drink espresso at Starbucks. I don’t feel like doing that. I know I might regret it. If I wake up early enough, maybe I will go. It all depends on how I feel.

I cancelled my therapy appt for tomorrow. I am going to talk to my psych about therapy and whether I truly need it. He is the first therapist that allowed me to cancel two weeks in a row without questions. Usually, they say come in to talk about it. Not him. He doesn’t even ask why I am cancelling. I really feel like he doesn’t care, even though he says he does. I never heard from the other two therapists that I emailed. I might call them and leave a message. Some time after the holidays or maybe during, I will somehow google therapists in my area and see who I can find. I wish there were resources for people with my history looking for new therapists. I am still angry that my former therapist left me high and dry without one and then terminated our relationship. The few therapists she wanted me to see were not taking on new clients. It’s so hard finding a good a therapist, and then finding one that fits with you. I thought it might work with the one I am seeing, I really did. But I am tired of feeling like it would be better for me to talk to the wall or my voices than him. Both give the same feedback, none, though talking with my voices is fun sometimes, except when I want to sleep and they want to chat. That drives me crazy.

I can’t believe my birthday is the end of the week. I am dreading it. I really want to spend at least one birthday with my father’s side. It just makes me sad knowing I will be spending it with my mother’s side, who I cannot stand, well, my cousins are okay but I can’t stand one of my mother’s sisters. I feel more loved by my father’s side because I grew up with them. Due to my father’s fight with my mother’s mother, I never knew her side until I was 13. I just knew one of her sisters because she made it a point to keep contact with her despite my grandmother telling her kids not to be in touch with my mother. Just makes me mad that the fight happened and then I was to embrace these people that were my family yet didn’t act like family. They were totally different than my father’s side in a couple of ways that I won’t mention. Now that only one of my father’s sister is surviving and in poor health, I want to spend more time with her. I might get a Zipcar so I can see her in the afternoon one day as a surprise visit. I love my aunt. She is my godmother. Her memory is kind of gone so she doesn’t know who I am most of the time and her hearing is going. It’s also hard for her to understand language as she has Parkinson’s disease. Her son and daughter in law take really good care of her, though it is hard watching her deteriorate. It is taking a toll on them that I cannot imagine. Just kills me that I can’t do anything for them but be there for them.

Last night as I saved my blog (I use a word doc before posting just in case of a website glitch, I don’t lose it), I decided to possibly work on the story that has been running in my head. I wanted to see what I had in the outline. I panicked when I didn’t see it on my laptop or 128 GB thumb drive. That meant it was on the 64 GB that I formatted. Thank goodness I backed it up before erasing the content. I would have lost the paper. I then put the thing on the One drive so I can have it where ever I go. I can access it through my phone. I am glad I back up my files every other month or so, for that reason. Least if I lose one, I have another copy somewhere else. So my message to all of you reading this that write: BACK UP YOUR FILES!!!

Appts for the day

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

Appts for the day

I got about 2.5 hours of sleep. I was up till around 5 because my pain was bad. I made it to starbucks for espresso and then left to go to the registration department at my hospital to change my name. It took about 5 minutes to do as I was the only person there. When I got to my psych’s office, I had them print me an extra label so I could take a pic of it but they cut off my last name when they ripped it from the machine. Oh well. My psych took me early, which was good. She usually runs late. She signed the paperwork for the RMV and we talked about the hospitalization not being helpful. I also told her the Zoloft was making me nauseous. We agreed to decrease it to 25 mg and if it still was making me sick, I could stop it.

While I was meeting with her, my PT called and left a message. I emailed her. She told me that I could go through some pain program and sent me information on it. She said that I needed to be cleared before going back to PT and I am not sure why that is as this was a psych admission not a medical one. Even when I tried to make an appt with my PCP’s office they had no idea what I was talking about. I emailed her again for clarification. I made an appt with her for next week, which I hope I can keep.

After my psych appt, I went into Boston to find the RMV. I am so glad it is around the corner from the train station. I will go there Wed. After finding it, I came home and wanted to rest for a bit before leaving for my therapy appt but my ankle acted up and I was not able to rest. I made some tea and then went to the bus stop to catch the bus.

Therapy went okay, though I need some time processing it. He got shrinky on me as before we ended he said that my “mommy and daddy issues were the real issues not my current ones”. Basically, because I haven’t dealt with my parents’ rejection and neglect, they were causing my problems, not my physical pain and suicidality. Whatever. I’ll write a blog on that once I think more about it. I am too tired.

On the way home, my ex-ex-girlfriend texted me and then “took a nap”. She does this to me all the fucking time and I am sick of it. She asked how I was doing and I didn’t answer her. I told her I was going to bed and then she said that I “ignored her for two days”. Um, text works both ways. I didn’t hear from her either. I was in bed sleeping most of the last two days. Kind of hard to text someone when you are sleeping all day. Then she called me a freak and that I was free to delete her. I blocked her number and then blocked her on Facebook. Fuck her. I don’t need drama in my life.

Went upstairs to my room and my bones in my ankle and foot flared up. I so want to fucking sleep!!!! I was in the boot for most of the day. Hope my night meds knock me out. Day 3 of supplement and haven’t noticed anything except my appetite seems to be low. I am eating but only 1 to 2 meals a day. I made an egg and cheese burrito and then had cereal when I came home from therapy. I was going to make hot dogs but didn’t feel like making them. I haven’t lost anything yet but I am only weighing myself weekly. I really just want to lose the belly fat but don’t know if that is possible. Still have 27 days on the stuff so only time will tell.