Mentioning of suicide, therapist panics

Mentioning of suicide, therapist panics

I had been seeing an interim therapist while waiting to go to college after I graduated high school. I was seeing someone in the local mental health center and I was supposed to see her for the summer as my current therapist got laid off due to budget cuts.

Some where in the middle of that summer, I reach the lowest point in my life, about three weeks away from when I was going to leave for college up in Maine. Like anyone else would do, I told my therapist that I was having suicidal feelings. She then did something totally unexpected. She took a deep breath, held it, let it go, and then sat there stunned like I shot her with a taser or something. She didn’t know what to do. She asked if I needed to be seen by someone in the emergency room and I forget if I did or not. I think I did because I got to the local hospital and was admitted for two weeks. I was glad my summer job had come to a close so I didn’t have to worry about work.

What I didn’t realize was that suicide is a big deal in the mental health field. The therapist didn’t want to take me back after my admission so I was stuck seeing a resident who basically said it was her or the hospital. I didn’t have a choice of people to talk about my feelings of being suicidal. Sure they were fine in the confined settings of a hospital stay but were taboo on an outpatient setting. I always knew I was high risk and it wasn’t until I entered into the field of suicidology did I really understand what it meant to be suicidal not just as a patient but as a clinician as well. I am not a clinician but I do have a clinical way of thinking about things. I might not be trained (yet) but I have more experience in therapy than a new graduate or even someone who has spent their lifetime doing this. I like to think of myself as an expert but then all people who have attempted suicide feel that they are.

What strikes me is the legality of the dreaded no-suicide contracts, the risk for malpractice, the ethical responsibility of the patient in the course of therapy, and the risk of losing the patient. Those are some pretty big reasons NOT to take on a client but what if you were in the situation that I was in. I already had an “established” therapist and she got cold feet when I told her I was thinking about killing myself. And in the age of the internet, I find that I am not the only one who has had this experience. I also have had trouble finding another therapist. My current therapist, though she still gets anxious when I talk about suicide, is thirty miles from me and I don’t have a car. We communicate solely by phone unless I can take my sister’s car every so often to drive out the forty-five minute to hour drive both ways. I have tried to find a therapist within a five mile radius of my house and have failed, not once, not twice, not three time, but ten fucking times!!! That is right, I called ten different therapists and they all turned me down because I had a history of being suicidal. It hurts and sucks. They just asked the question, I answered honestly, and got either referred to another therapist or was turned down outright. So I was stuck with the far away therapist. I then got hospitalized during the course of trying to find a therapist I could see face to face and when I did, he was scared of me. I mean beads of sweat were coming down his face and he had a high pitched, nervous laugh. I could tell he did not want to treat me. He didn’t want to lose me because I was such a high risk person. What makes you high risk? Having a significant history of suicide attempts, history of being abused either physically, emotionally or sexually or all three, constant suicide thoughts, and feeling hopeless. There are other criteria but those jump out at me as the most significant. I once went to a suicidology conference where I listed the prominent symptoms of my condition and had it reviewed by one of the suicidologists at the conference. He didn’t want to touch this person with a ten foot pole. I never felt so hopeless before in my life. I knew at that point that there was no hope for me, that I was destined to always be suicidal, or at least have suicidal thoughts. But it shocked me that this expert had no advice for me other than good luck.

To be a suicidal patient and have no where to go is a tough situation. You depend on the therapist to be there for you and to talk openly about any topic you want to talk about, including suicide. But what do you do when the therapist has no clue? You would think that the therapist would know how to handle the situation. You are after all trusting this person to give you advice about your life. It seems kind of too late to start the training now while you are in crisis on what to do. It’s not like you can put your life on hold while the therapist gets a clue. All I can say is to be patient. Don’t buy into a no suicide contract, they don’t work. Go to the American Association of Suicidology’s website to help both you and your therapist. There are not too many therapists that know how to handle suicidal crises every where and each state has their own rules regarding suicidal safety. The best advice I can offer is to both be honest with one another and to listen to each to whether out the storm of the suicidal feelings. Have a safety plan in place. Use a crisis response plan. Pick up a book on Managing Suicidal Risk by David Jobes and give it to your therapist. If the therapist says she or he cannot work with you anymore, find someone who can. That might take some doing and some time but you can find someone that is not afraid of suicide.

feeling broken

Today I have been thinking about Lincoln. I read a passage in the book I am reading and one of Harvard’s psychiatrist mentioned that “no mere prescription [can teach us] about how to live a successful life in the face of suffering”(Lester Havens, MD).

I admire Lincoln for working through his suffering yet being successful in what he did. It was so painful and others around him could see and palpate his pain. I think if Lincoln grew up in another time period, he might have been either institutionalized or he would have killed himself. He would not have become the 16th president. But I think, as I am a depressive myself and can totally relate to what he went through, even if antidepressant were available, he would not take them. There have been notions that he might have dabbled in laudanum or cocaine even, but give his strict stance on temperance, I sincerely doubt he would have used any type of drug to ease his suffering. In fact, given the his profound pain, I think he would have ended up overdosing on these. I have thought of making laudanum. There are recipes on the internet on how to make it but it takes time, like all things. And you need the right equipment, though this equipment is much cheaper than that used of say a meth lab. I doubt I could do it, not with my family around, especially as I would need the darkness of the basement to “cook” the stuff in. My brother in law would find it as the basement is his area. I don’t think he would take too kindly to me having a little space to make something illegal. But I have thought about it. Mostly, I just wanted to make the stuff to OD on not to really use as a pain reliever.

I still am broken up about the violation my therapist did yesterday. I am trying not to think about it because I know ruminating about it is not going to help. I have thought of writing her a letter, but seeing as I don’t see her in person and it will be a week or so before she gets it, I don’t think that is going to help me. Yes, I might read it to her on Tuesday on our next session. But I have to stifle these feelings until then and it just doesn’t seem right. I know she didn’t mean to harm me. Hell, I didn’t even think she would KNOW how to get on the web with her phone while we were talking. But the little nitwit did. I have texted her saying she is in deep shit with me. That somehow made me feel a little better as we can open the session with that. But I don’t know how to get through the weekend feeling like this. I know I will, I always do. I am going to the Bon Jovi concert tomorrow so that will get things off my mind, least for a day or so. My only worry tomorrow will be standing too long and getting dehydrated as we are in the middle of a heat wave.

I can’t help but feel broken inside. The one person that I trusted the most in the world violated it in three minutes. She even read the other blog that I didn’t want her to read. So that makes two blogs she read without my consent. I don’t know why I didn’t stop her or say something while we were talking. I know that if were talking in person this probably wouldn’t have happened. She might have goaded me into getting the blog on my phone and sharing it but that would have been different. I could control what she saw. I guess that is it, I feel out of control in a situation I should have had control of. And the blog didn’t contain anything real worthy of the violation. It wasn’t as if my safety was in jeopardy. I just jotted down some thoughts that I thought would go into a suicide note. That is what started the whole “let’s read the blog then” action. I think her possessiveness is getting out of control. Everything I write she thinks is free rein to her. I wrote a letter to Dr. Jobes and she wanted me to read it to her. I was like sorry, it’s not addressed to you so you do not have permission. She wanted to get behind the thinking of the letter but I had the letter at home and there was no way for her to get at it. It wasn’t like I was waving it around in her face or something. I just don’t know what to do. I am stuck with her as no other therapist wants me in the area I live in. They are too afraid of my suicidality. The hardest part is that I can’t even talk to my psychiatrist about this because I don’t see her till next Friday. And I don’t want to email this to her because I just don’t even know what to say. I don’t even know if she (my therapist) truly did violate boundaries. And even if I did call my pdoc, you know she is going to say just work it out with her. Or wonder why I am calling her (pdoc) to begin with.

I guess in this age of blogs and internet there are no more boundary limits anymore and I never thought for one second I would feel this way. Makes me wonder if I should stop blogging all together and just keep a written journal.

a useless therapy session

I had a pretty exhausting but good day. I had a little hypomania for most of the day but that seems to have dissipated now. I have not crashed yet but I know it is coming on. I am dreading it. Given that I already have suicidal tendencies in the forefront of my mind, it is going to be hard to get away from this crash, depending on how bad it is. I was euphoric for nearly a day and a half, the longest I have ever been in such a long, long time. But I think a migraine interfered with it since I have taken my migraine med I have been feeling calmer and the racing thoughts have stopped.

I am listening to the ball game because I cannot stand watching the game while Dennis Eckersley is announcing. So I am listening rather than watching. I like listening to Joe Castiglione. He has a calming radio announcers voice.

I gave my therapist the blog that I wrote the other night, before my euphoria. It is so weird that I wrote so darkly and then felt the complete opposite within 12 hours. I met with her today as I had my sister’s car. We did not go into overtime. This week I am meeting with her four times. I know that might seem excessive but given my mood swings, it will be good. My thoughts were all over the place while I was talking. I didn’t know exactly what to talk about as she didn’t do her homework of reading the Managing suicidal risk forward that I told her to. I didn’t even see the book on her desk when I came into her office so I know she didn’t read it. I forget now why I wanted her to read it other the fact Shneidman praises Dr. Jobes work. I was kind of hoping that she would pull out an SSF (suicide status form) but my mind was going a hundred directions at once. I don’t remember half of what we did talk about other than me feeling like superman. She wanted permission to talk to my psychiatrist, which I consented. I don’t know what she will say. She thought that since I was euphoric I would give up my idea of being suicidal but I was too giddy to say yes to that. Maybe I was feeling good because I know there is an end to my pain. Wouldn’t be the first time I felt ok after making the decision to end my life. But I also wonder if I felt good because the pain I have been feeling is finally gone for the time being. I did tweak my ankle today just stepped wrong while looking for something in my room. We talked about my pain meds being a factor but for it to last more than a day, I find that highly unlikely. I know the pain med might still be floating in my system but I doubt it would have lasted till now.

I tried to stay focused with the letter/blog. I know I talked about how I got four more followers to make it 190 right now. I am pretty proud of my blog. I know that I touch people with it. And I do get some bloggers that provide feedback. I got a comment today about what I am writing, whether I am trying to reach out to people and I am not. I am just writing to express my feelings. I am not writing for sympathy.

As I got to see my therapist today, I got to see my big teddy bear, Johnny. I miss him. He is just a HUGE cuddly teddy bear. I love him since the day he entered my life 12 years ago. I got him as a gift when I had my first back surgery. He is so big that he couldn’t fit in the bed with me. I had to put him in a chair next to me. I told him today that he would have to take care of my therapist when I am gone. My therapist didn’t like hearing this but I have been telling her for years this.

We did talk about my writing my book. I told her that I would just put my stuff on dropbox for my friend to publish. I then had to explain what dropbox was as my therapist is technologically inept. I really don’t think my book will ever get published. But from what I gather from writers is that you just have to keep writing in order for that to happen. I still want to get a good publisher like scholar or some kind of press but I am not sure I can ever hit the big leagues. I know there are some self publishing companies but I don’t really have the dough to make that happen. And I doubt I would make the best sellers list. I know my blog is successful but I don’t think my life will make the big leagues in the book world. Most people have gone electronic anyways.

I feel like I need another cup of Java I am so tired but I have been up since six this morning. It is now eight thirty in the evening. I just took my night time meds. But I can’t go to sleep just yet because I am listening to the game.

I am starting to feel like shit mentally. I am wondering if I should go back to the hospital but that just always gives me more problems than it is worth sometimes. I don’t really get the help that I need there, depending where I go. Mostly you are counseled by the nursing staff and they are ultimately make the decision on whether or not you can go, not the attending psychiatrist. You are lucky to see the attending more than 10 minutes. And that is not enough time to do any sort of assessment. They basically just ask you questions, are you safe, are you going to hurt yourself and if they questions are no for three days, they send you free. They don’t care what brought you in the hospital. Soon as you are in, your insurance company wants to set you free.

A day at Starbucks

I’m at Starbucks drinking my Isla Flores. I don’t know what I am going to do when they get rid of this coffee. I like it more than West Java and it is from the same island (Indonesia). It is really hot today so I am glad they have the A/C cranking in here. It’s going to reach 95 degrees today. I don’t like heat. It drives me crazy. There have been studies done on suicide that state that intolerable heat causes suicide, or makes it more prone to suicidality. I know because there have been times I have thought more about suicide on hot days than I have on cold.

I have an appointment with my psychiatrist today. I don’t know if I am going to tell her about my plans. I don’t want to risk going into the hospital. Though for the first time in a long time, I didn’t wake up with doom on my mind today. I slept pretty good. That is the first time I slept through the night without waking up at some early time. I still have my menses and cramps, that are driving me crazy, especially on this hot day. I want to go into a pool and get wet today but that is not going to happen. I’ll just take a shower when I get home to cool off.

I am glad I brought my laptop to Sbux today. I like writing outside of my room. I might work on my book today. I haven’t worked on it in so long. I added double space and it is now 48 pages. I guess that is a good number to start with. There are some things that I’m editing as I go along.

Despite lowering the dose of my antipsychotic medication, I have not had any delusions or bad voices. The voices will ramp up at night to keep me talking by asking questions of my day or come in when I am resting. I hate that. I try to ignore them but they get so insistent. Sometimes it is just questioning how my day is going; other times they question every decision I am making. Why am I taking this bus over that bus, why am ordering this food over that food. You sure you want to do that rather than this. Or they tell me that I am doing everything wrong, some times including breathing. Like is there a correct way to breathe? Seriously. Half the time you are not even aware of it so WTF. Or they ask me why I am doing something, like just now they asked me why I put my sock in my sock and I reply that I don’t want to lose the other sock. I found this method has worked to keeping my pairs of socks together. Less mismatching.

It is like a sauna in my room right now. The ceiling fan is just moving hot air around. While I was at my psychiatrist appointment, I wanted to do a psychache scale. I no longer write the graphs in my journal as right now it just wastes paper as I don’t use it. So I look on my phone. I don’t have it in my files. I check my dropbox files and my google drive, NA-DA. I am pissed. I hate not having my files when I want them!! So now I have to place these documents and the SSF on my drives because I don’t have them. It would be nice to have them in an emergency. Like when I was in the hospital and they needed a safety plan for me to be discharged. I didn’t have my crisis response plan (CRP; see this blog for what it looks like) in my journal because it was a new journal. I didn’t have it written out in a word doc so I had to rummage through my PDF’s looking for it on my phone/tablet. Then I had to write it all out, substituting what my therapist and I came up with the generics of it. That was fun because I had to rush. But what truly pissed me off was that they didn’t even want a copy of the damn thing. They just wanted to make sure that I had one. So sometimes the CRP is useful in hospitalizations and sometimes it is not.