Tag: psychotherapist

Love, Hate, and Suicide

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

Love Hate and Suicide

Above is the link for my article. It has been a rough twenty-four hours. I have not slept very well because of the weird dreams I have been having over the stress of this publication. For the most part, my article was well received. There were a few dissenters that questioned my therapist’s methods and therapy with me, but they were dispelled by other commenters, which made me feel a little better. I had gotten so upset about the readers “attacking” my treaters, I felt like I made a huge mistake. My psychiatrist was impressed I made such an impression, which made me feel better. Also talking with my therapist after nearly 5 days was such comfort. I thought I was offending her and I wasn’t doing any of the sort. She laughed at some of the comments I was telling her and told me it didn’t matter. Everyone was entitled to their opinion. What really matters is what happens between us not the rest of the world, or something like that. Because I was so sleep deprived and a nervous wreck, I cried today while talking with her. I just got so overwhelmed with the comments. Some of them had them questioning whether my therapist was “real”, meaning did she have the proper credentials and training to be a therapist. It was just so hurtful, to me anyways. So I cried, got upset, and then laughed about it. Before my psychiatrist wrote back, I seriously thought about ending my life. But the feelings passed. Now I just hope I can get a good night’s sleep and I should be able to face the day tomorrow.

I had to go out today. I stayed in all weekend and was starting to feel cooped up. I went to Walgreens to try and get some Pringles and my prescription. I also gave the article to one of the pharm techs I told I write. She was flabbergasted. They didn’t have the Pringles but they did have my prescription ready. When I came home I showered and waited for the time for my therapist.

After therapy, I checked some more comments, my blog stats (which are blooming), and messages on FB. I then got dressed and waited for the bus. I didn’t have to wait as my cousin drove by and gave me a ride to the Square. I was hungry so had a celebratory burrito. Actually, I got a salad with all the burrito fillings. It was just as good but without the flour tortilla. I went to my Starbucks and got a pumpkin spice latte and a scone. I was stuffed at this point. My mother called while I was having my latte wanted to know if I would be home for supper. I said I would be home but I don’t think I would be eating. I was too tired to write so just decided to catch the next bus home, which meant catching the bus with the mentally disabled guy. He was not too bad today, though he did ask some young kids for money. I ignored him, though I couldn’t wait to get off the bus. He just makes me uncomfortable because he has a quick temper. Something doesn’t go his way and he flies off the handle. I am glad the bus wasn’t too crowded today.

Counting Down the Hours

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

Counting down the hours

Today is another wicked humid, hot day. Sox are winning at the moment. They just took the lead. I just hope Porcello and the bullpen can keep the lead against the hot Jays. I have decided not to listen or watch the game today. I didn’t sleep very well, again. I just woke up from a nap that had another disturbing dream in it. I had woken from a nightmare earlier so my day has not gone well.

I have been counting down the hours till my article gets published. As the hour slowly approaches, I am again filled with anxiety about it. I have emailed a good friend of mine about this and the nightmare that I had. She is understanding that I have these fears. It’s not so much about the world that I am afraid of, but my family’s reaction to what I wrote. I activated my the blog again so I could show my cousin what I wrote so she could judge if they will react poorly or not. She said it was fine. She is really supportive of my work and a good friend. We didn’t know each other growing up due to my father and her grandmother having a fight when I was little. She was also away to college and I didn’t really know about her till we got invited to her graduation party. She is really pretty and smart, but then, all my cousins are. I trust her judgement and I hope she isn’t wrong. Last thing I want is her mother interfering in my life. It’s bad enough she is on Facebook. She is not a woman to be messed with, and I will just leave it at that.

I wanted to go to Walgreens today to pick up my prescription but when I brought out my recycles, the heat overwhelmed me. Tomorrow is supposed to be a tad cooler so I might go then, in the morning before it gets hot. I should be up anyway with the dealings of my article being published. If my hip doesn’t hurt, I plan on going to Kelly’s to get a proper roast beef sandwich and onion rings to celebrate. I have been getting a roast beef at another place but it’s just not the same.

The plan for tonight is to watch the OSU game (they didn’t play Saturday like I thought they did) and then stay up until 0400 or so. My publication is supposed to be online at 0330. If I do happen to fall asleep before 0300, I set my alarm just in case. I also plan on taking another nap between 1700-1900 so I am rested for the game. Right now, I am not caring much about the game. I just want to sleep, or maybe have something to eat and then sleep. The last 24 hours have been stressful and the next 12 are going to be more so. I have been trying not to think of the consequences of my writing but I can’t. I know it’s good writing and the Times doesn’t accept garbage. I have to keep telling myself this or I just go into a downward spiral of self-doubt. Talking with my cousin helped and so did emailing my friend. Having that dream didn’t help. I dreamt that the article was co-authored and then that person wanted to see me. She sent me a bunch of redundant paperwork I had to fill out and she spelled the word suicide wrong on it. It was a terrible dream.

talking therapies and other things

by Midnight Demon, posted in depression, mood disorders

A fellow blogger asked about talking therapies and it got me thinking that I never really wrote about this before. I have been through most psychotherapies, but mostly to do with psychodynamic. I never was one for DBT (dialectical behavioral therapy) or CBT (Cognitive behavioral therapy). I wanted to get better quick and these therapies, you had to do homework and stuff. It just made me more depressed. I know some people have sworn by them and have been helped by them. I know they work because I have seen the studies on them. Most recently, CBT is making waves with veterans who have suicidal thoughts. They use what is called Brief CBT and it helps the soldiers faster than “treatment as usual”. Treatment as usual is just a term used to describe what is standard care for someone. There are some specifics about it but I can’t remember them off the top of my head at the moment.

For suicidal patients, I still believe the standard of care should be CAMS, Collaborating, Assessment, and Managing of Suicide. It is a framework that has been shown to work best with suicidal people and its assessment, the SSF (Suicide Status Form) is very useful in getting to the bottom of a suicide crisis. People don’t know more about CAMS because they rather rely on their own method of treating someone who is suicidal, which is the “standard of care” but it doesn’t work. If you are suicidal, you agree you aren’t going to kill yourself and if you can’t agree with that, you are placed in the hospital. CAMS allows for outpatient treatment to occur and only takes about fifteen minutes in a 50 minute session to work on. I have written about CAMS. You can search for it in my archives.

I didn’t sleep well last night. I was just tossing and turning most of the time. I couldn’t get comfortable. I was hot, cold, cold, hot. I just didn’t get it. I finally took my meds around 0230 this morning and then was up till around 0530. I didn’t have supper and I wasn’t hungry. My appetite has been minimal these days. Going to my father’s place was a chore and left me more tired than I was before I left my house. I was only there for about ten minutes. He is a pain in the ass as he hasn’t been taking his water pill and then wonders why he is swollen. Pisses me off.

Now I am home and feel like I should nap. Except I don’t want to nap. I am wicked cold and need something to warm me up. I would have coffee but I don’t want the jitters. I still am not over my little caffeine overdose from the other day. Never again will I drink back to back cups of coffee. It was too much for my system. I felt great but not in the long run. It wasn’t intentional. I just wanted to stay up as I had again didn’t sleep too well. Think I might have tea next time.

Twenty-Three Years

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, depression, mental illness, suicidality

Twenty-three years

Today marks twenty-three years that I have sought help for my depression and self-destructiveness. I actually didn’t seek help straight out. My English teacher noticed I was upset and pulled me aside and saw the marks on my wrist that I had made the night before. She then told me to stay after class, something no teacher has ever told me to do before. She took me to the nurse’s office. We chatted. I told her about what happened at my house the last two nights and how much I just wanted to die. She called my mother, who then took me to the local counseling center. By then, I told them “nothing was wrong” and that I was “okay”. I declined treatment and went on with my day. Daily visits to the nurse’s office became more frequent. I just stopped in to check in and told her what was going on. She wanted me to see someone so the following week I agreed to see the school counselor. Thus started my official journey into psychotherapy.

It hasn’t been an easy road. For the first ten years, I had a different therapist nearly every year. I think the only time I had two years was with the psych resident that wanted to see me or I would still be in the hospital. I went through a lot with this psychiatrist in training. While in her care, I attempt suicide and ended up being in the hospital for two and half months. When she ended her residency, I went to another psych in training. He wasn’t as good as she was. In fact, he was terrible. I felt like he was more my brother than a therapist but when I told him I was procuring more medication to end my life, he asked me if I was suicidal. That is when I knew he was an idiot. I pretty much ended our relationship within a few weeks and saw someone else. She was good, had years experience. But after I had an argument with my sister and she wanted to know more about my sister’s social life than my anger, I ended things with her. I went about a month without seeing someone. I then decided to go back to my town’s local mental health center. I saw someone there for a year and again, she decided to move on after that year mark. We were finally connected and I felt so betrayed. I didn’t think I was going to see another person again. I don’t know what changed my mind. I knew I didn’t want to see someone else at the local mental health center. I wanted to see someone private. I figured they were less likely to leave their practice. And I luckily found my current therapist and we have been together for fourteen years. It is the longest relationship I have had, outside of my psychiatrist. I am lucky that I have had just one psychiatrist for my medication all these years. She does more than just prescribe my medication. She also does some therapy and is my sounding board for the various medical issues that I have. And I can’t wait to see her again in a week after not seeing her for four long months. It is going to be weird seeing her again.

I don’t know why I have stuck it out in therapy all these years, especially when things were at their worst. I have been beyond hopeless and yet my psych team (therapist and psychiatrist) always made me see another day, sometimes against my wishes.