ramblings 35

It’s a cold day today. Monday was just a tease of spring. Today we have snow like conditions. Tonight’s baseball game has been cancelled due to rain. I am upset because now I have nothing to watch. Maybe I will watch Lincoln again tonight.

I saw my psychiatrist today. I told her I felt bad that I neglected her in my book and wrote a few pages about her today. I wanted to write more but I had to catch the bus. I will work on it more tomorrow. It is important that I try and capture the alliance piece because without it, I doubt that I would be seeing her. And as she said, that would be a lost opportunity.

I had two cups of coffee today and right now I feel like I could take a nap. I have been up since seven this morning so it already has been a long day as it’s almost six in the evening now. I haven’t had supper yet and plan on making grilled cheese as it’s National Grilled Cheese day. Who knew?

I have not had real thoughts of killing myself today. I tossed the idea around like I usually do every day and often wonder what it would be like to be dead but that is as far as I got. I didn’t make any plans. I have been in pain today because of the walking in going to my appointment. But right now it’s a tolerable level. I just have to be careful going up and down the stairs tonight. Because that motion aggravates my foot. It does not like it.

I’m listening to Luke Bryan as I am writing this. I love his voice. I just downloaded (legally) his newest song “crash my party”. I heard it at the ACMs and loved it. I am so glad that he released it. I thought it might be on his summer break album but it’s not. He is just an amazing person. In other news, I was saddened by Sugarland’s extended maternity leave. I miss listening to Sugarland. I LOVE Jennifer Nettles. She also has an amazing voice.

Today is the first day my therapist is away. For the first time in twelve years I am nervous. But my psychiatrist is there in case something should come up. I am don’t know why I am nervous. It’s not like she has never been away before. Usually I welcome her vacations as it gives me a break but this time it just sucks. I have been working on the Aeschi model and it just makes so much sense with the way my alliance is with my therapist. I know I will survive a week without her, and I also know I will text her every other day to give her an update. She is a looney tune for wanting these updates, though she is not going to be in an area that has reception. I’ll send the texts anyways because I fear that if she doesn’t hear from me she might get worried. Part of the agreement we have is to constantly be in touch with her. She always wants to know what is going on with me and sometimes I just want to be left alone. This time I will be left alone as there isn’t a way for her reach me should I need a check in. She doesn’t have anyone covering her while she is away. But I should be ok. I don’t know why I am nervous though. I guess I rely on her so much lately that knowing she is not there troubles me somehow? I just hope that I can continue to write like I have. It would really suck if I stop writing. Then something is really wrong with me…

Aeschi model and ramblings

Just woke up after a morning of pain. I decided to take my pain meds and go back to sleep. Like I figured, I woke up around 1400, which left me a half hour to shower and get dressed before the bus came. Well I did take a shower but going down the stairs to my sister’s apartment for coffee put a kink in me going out. I still plan on going out with my cane to Walgreens for some soda. I know I shouldn’t as I am trying to diet but I need something to drink other than water. I also need to get another bottle of water as I drank the one I had while watching the Sox game.

I am feeling energized by the coffee. I hope it doesn’t lead to a crash because I don’t want another nap today. I need to work on my writing today. I have been amiss doing so the past few weeks but now I think I know what to write about and I’ll just stick it in. I want to write about the Aeschi model for suicide and also how Dr. Jobes came into my life through his work. I really believe that if more clinicians took this approach to their clients or at least they had this approach in inpatient settings, there might be less suicides.

Aeschi model (pronounced Eshi) is a patient-oriented model, meaning that the patient has a say over treatment more than the clinician does. What has been found is that the provider-oriented model doesn’t work as patients can get frustrated over the “provider knows best” thinking. The Aeschi works toward a collaborative effort with the patient and provider working together to finding out what is at the heart of suicidality of the client.

Today I was at Starbucks taking notes on my Aeschi book. I was writing down what I had highlighted but there is too much information that I didn’t highlight that I needed to share so I gave up on it, for now. This book is so powerful that you really need time and energy not only to read it but to digest its contents.

The gist of it is to have the client be the person in charge of treatment and therapy, a novel idea when so many clinicians think they know it all better than the client and therefore take charge due do their discipline (CT, CBT, DBT, Etc.) I know that if my therapist had been in this category, I probably would not be here, or I would be seeing another therapist. I believe that if there is a collaborative effort of the therapist and client, there will be a higher success rate than if the therapist has the one track mind of he/she knows best. But the nice thing is that the Aeschi model doesn’t have to focus on one discipline. It can work for social workers, psychologists, psychiatrists, mental health workers, etc. It just takes a little courage to step out of the normal boundaries and put the client first. To let the client tell their story without being judgmental or critical.

After the client tells their story, there is an openness that can be trusted. Once the client has a sympathetic and empathic ear that is open to whatever the client is saying, the real journey begins.

This model is the new age of what therapy should be about. I know that if I didn’t develop a relationship with my therapist, I probably wouldn’t be here.

On another note: I did go out today and wasn’t in too much pain. I was able to walk a block with my AFO on. Now I don’t know if the brace is what calmed the pain down or if my ankle is finally calming down. I had a wicked bad night last night. Ice and pain meds were just not working for me. Usually ice helps but this time it didn’t. I am going to try again tonight. I have my foot elevated on a foam block. Best $60 I ever spent for a foam device. It really helps my back and legs.

A remembrance of the past

I read a blog today that really hit home and made me think. It was about a person that wrote about her experience of attempting suicide eight years ago this month. I also have an attempt anniversary this month, actually in a few days time it will be 21 years ago that I first attempted suicide with diphenhydramine, also known as Benedryl. I remember that it was a month after my then therapist told me she was leaving. I thought fine, so will I. I planned my death on a day I knew my family would not be home and took the pills. What I didn’t account for was puking, violently. If I hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t be here today. I still remember my eyes being dilated for almost a week afterwards. I was pretty mad and I felt like a failure, a huge one. Probably the biggest one on the planet at that point. Here I was, a very intelligent teenager who couldn’t kill himself right. I sunk into the worse depression after that. Actually, I had no idea I could sink worse than what I already felt but I did. I began losing weight, lost my appetite almost completely. I was sixteen years old and all I thought about was death. I was not sleeping. I would wake up at four in the morning nearly every day and couldn’t go back to sleep. I would wake up dreading the world, not wanting to go to my summer job but I had to. I couldn’t show that I was depressed. My mother had already freaked out when she found out I had overdosed thanks to the said therapist who told her after I told her what I had done. I didn’t know what to do. I think after several weeks of this and it just getting worse and worse I called Samaritans and talked with them about my situation. The person told me that I should be in the hospital and I contemplated that. I waited a few more days to see if things would get better and when I couldn’t take anymore, I told my mother I needed help. She took me to the hospital and I got diagnosed as major depression with psychotic features. Up until then, I had dreams of joining the navy. Those dreams died in the hospital emergency room when they told me I was psychotic because the voices in my head wouldn’t shut up. I actually felt free to talk with them for the first time in my life. My mother didn’t like that as it appeared that I was crazy. Well I was…

I got to the hospital and got sent to a local psych ward that was NOT for teens. I then got transferred to a better psych hospital the next day. I would have two more admissions there before I had a break. So my cycle of being in and out of the hospital began. I had three admissions all within a year. I blamed my next therapist for this as if she was doing her job, I wouldn’t be so sick. This is the therapist that I saw after the other one had left. I have seen many therapists in my lifetime, too many in fact. Before I turned twenty-five, I would have eleven therapists. Some therapists only saw me for ten months, others were year and a little over. I never had continuity in my care so I always remained unstable. Surprisingly, the only stable therapeutic relationship I have had was with my psychiatrist, whom I have been with since I was seventeen. I wished so badly at times that I could see her for therapy but she only does medication.

And here I am twenty odd years later and I still want to end my life. How sad is that…

question of interest

Interest

I wondered today why I keep telling my therapist I am suicidal when I really want to kill myself. I know that she can stop me with a phone call for the white coats but it is more than that. Maybe I am afraid that if I am no longer suicidal to her, she will lose interest in me and find me a bore. I doubt this is true but I can’t help but feel this way. I also wonder why I am suicidal. I know I am depressed but you don’t have to be depressed to be suicidal. I hate myself. I hate my life. But I mostly just hate myself because I am not who I am.

Then I think maybe I am just suicidal to keep my readers interested. I know that sounds silly. I am not an attention seeker. I really feel like killing myself at times but something always holds me back, from going through with my plan. Lately it has been trying to see if taking the different pills I am on in large doses will be effective in doing damage. I don’t know why I think these things. It just comes to me so automatic that I really have gotten out of touch with what I truly feel and can think about something other than killing myself. The coping strategies I know about I have not put into use, though distraction is my biggest coping skill I use. If I distract myself from killing myself, that is good. Usually music will do it or sometimes writing/journaling/blogging. I write my therapist letters about how I feel and send them to her. I don’t know if she reads them as I usually save them up and when a bunch accumulates, I then mail them. They can be the most depressing things she ever reads. But it helps distract from acting on killing myself. I feel that the interest I have in suicide is also a factor in why I want to kill myself.

Today my therapist and I were talking about lethality. I don’t think I am lethal in my suicidality where she thinks I am because it’s not like I am saying I am taking one aspirin and calling it an OD. I am saying I am thinking about taking the bottle. But then the feeling passes but the thoughts don’t. I don’t know if this is making sense. I have been up since 0600, with weird dreams a few hours before that waking me up every 90 mins, which is the standard dream cycle. I am waking up because the dreams are disturbing but I can’t recall them when I wake up. Even now I don’t remember what the dreams were about. I know one of them had me in my old house I grew up in. But that is all. Frustrating as hell because this has gone on the past three nights and I have been waking up early despite going to bed around midnight. It just sucks because being sleep deprived always gives me a migraine, like I have right now. I want to take a nap but I think that will just make my sleep even more disturbed. And the more my sleep is disturbed, the more suicidal and pain I get.