Tag: psychotherapy

I am just tired. Plain and simple.

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

I have done a lot today. I started the editing process of my book and shouldn’t have added some pieces but then I took away some things, so things evened out a little bit. The page numbers do not correspond to anything right now so I have to go through page by page which is a hassle. The title chapters are becoming clearer so I am happy about that. If I stay on course, I should be ok with a Nov 16th publishing date so stay tuned!!

After the editing, I decided to watch the football game. At half time we were leading 21-13. Or maybe it was 21-17. I don’t know. I was kind of sleepy and not interested in watching the game but felt I had to. I had some French fries for my lunch/dinner and then retired to my room where it is fricken cold. I am waiting for my brother in law to come take the AC out of the window. I just texted him to let him know that I want it done today. I am so proud that he has learned to text. When he got his new phone, he had no clue and thought it was a game. I guess they text him a lot at work and he got a little aggravated one day, saying to my sister that this game just won’t stop. She laughed and said that is the text messaging. He can be a little old fashioned but I love him. He really is a good guy.

It has been good that I am home. I didn’t do too much yesterday as I was so sleepy. I said I was going to sleep for a half hour before the game and the next thing I knew we won and the game was over thanks to Victorino’s grand slam! I can’t believe I missed the game!! I am so mad at myself.

I think I kind of got my therapist worried a little bit. She asked if I was suicidal and instead of giving her an answer, I said that I don’t care, which is true. I don’t care if I am suicidal or not anymore. It’s not like I am going to act on it so who cares! If I was going to act on it, I think it would be more dangerous. So I just don’t care if I feel suicidal anymore. It’s not like they lock you away in the hospital anymore for days on end. In fact, unless you actually act in the hospital to harm yourself, they will just discharge you no matter how bad you say you are going to harm yourself. So I am just DONE with the whole business of it all. And it’s not like she helps me while I am suicidal. She doesn’t implement the SSF or safety plan or any of the other things that will ease the tension of suicidality. She just increases sessions where we don’t really talk about anything. My psychiatrist just relies on me to tell her about my symptoms. If I am not telling her I am having symptoms, then to her, I am fine. I just am so sick of being in a constant suicidal state and not being able to do anything about it. I can’t take my life so why bother being suicidal? I mean I can take it, but it’s too much of a damn hassle. I am tired of the planning that goes into a suicidal plan. I am tired of the contracts for safety telling my therapist I will not act on it no matter how bad I really want to kill myself. I am just tired. Plain and simple.

paranoia troubles

by Midnight Demon, posted in suicide attempt

today has not been a good day. I have been trying to isolate myself from the unit because the voices are really bad today. They are saying anything from the staff is poisoning to me to wanting to cut my arm off with the blood pressure cuff. And of course they are telling me to kill myself. I don’t think the meds are helping and I am running out of hope that things will get better.

I made a friend while here and she is interested in reading my book when it comes out. I will give her all my contact information when I get out of here. She is a real sweetheart. I hope she gets help too.

I don’t know why today is bad. I feel like I am not doing my routine and I am getting out of things. But I had a friend of mine bring in a mocha today so I was happy for a little while. I so needed a mocha fix. Dinner time is almost here but I quickly wanted to write a blog post about how things are going. I haven’t been writing today. I just can’t seem to find the words I want to use to write because the meds have me all messed up. I know this might seem silly but I miss my one voice I always talk to. The meds have made her go away and I hope that she comes back soon. She was a “nice” voice.

I talked about Mr. Hyde today and that sort of got me revved up. I don’t know why. I guess with the voices telling me to kill myself it stirred the pot a little bit.

drinking and cutting

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, depression

***warning might be triggering***

Just finished my writing of four pages today. I talked about the benefits of hospitalization and such. I have good experience with that as I have been hospitalized over 30 times in my life. I had at least twenty by the time I was 25 years old. My depressions were brutal and all I could think about was killing myself. And back then, if you had any thoughts of suicide and were thinking about acting on it, it landed you in the hospital. Now you need a specific plan, time, and date before they admit you.

I have been having big self-harm urges today. It started last night and has not let up any today. I am able to distract myself with music and playing with my phone, usually by going on twitter. I rarely talk to anyone by my therapist about this, though today she wanted to know more about it and I blew her off. I don’t know why I blew her off. I don’t really know why I have the urges. But I just didn’t want to talk about it. I felt like if I did, the urges would come back stronger and I wouldn’t be able to keep them at bay. I deal with these urges for so long on my own that I still can’t let anyone in on them. They are too private for me to talk about. I know that the paper I wrote last night about my TG issues is a cause of it. I don’t understand the link between me being a male and me wanting to cut. And I don’t think I want to know. I also have been wanting to drink to get seriously drunk. Been staring at a bottle of crown royale the past few weeks. I could empty the bottle. It has about a fourth left if I let myself. I am just afraid of what I might do if I start drinking. I could get into the fuck it modes and take more meds than I should. I could accidently try and kill myself while under the influence. That is why I don’t drink. I am too afraid of what might happen. I have never drank and used my meds inappropriately. In fact, if I do have any alcoholic beverages, I usually don’t end up taking my narcotic medication because I am afraid of the side effects. I won’t even take an Ativan for fear of it slipping me into a coma, though I don’t take that much.

Ever since I had that mini suicide attempt last October I have been fearful of mind altering drugs and cutting. Cutting might seem harmless, but it really isn’t. Not to a former cutter. It is like a drug. Once you start, you can’t stop. You want to feel that “high” again and again with each blood drop. I can’t explain it beyond that. It’s like a thrill you can’t get otherwise. It lets go of the pain with each slash. I am just afraid of going too deep and needing stitches where I most likely will be hospitalized for my actions. They rarely let you go if you need stitches. And it’s terrible to have to sit and wait and wait and wait like you are some kind of leper. Even though you didn’t mean on doing yourself harm, they (psychiatrists and such) think you could be at risk for more harm. All it takes to get started is that one cut. And one cut is usually never enough. Just like with me, one sip of whiskey is never enough. I need more and more to get drunk. I am a binge drinker. I binge drink and then I am fine for months. But sometimes, I find that I can’t stop drinking. I am not an alcoholic. I just like to drink. And sometimes just one will do it. Sometimes five will do it. Other times it is the rest of the bottle.

I have never cut while drunk and I never drink while cutting. The hazards for going too deep and wild is too great, greater than overdosing on medication. I once wanted to cut my jugular while in a drunken rage so I decided to never mix the two. It takes some deep restraint not to give into impulses for either. And despite the impulse, I some how avoid doing serious harm to myself while under the influence of either substance. No, cutting is not an abused substance but it should be.

loss of self

by Midnight Demon, posted in cauda equina syndrome, chronic physical pain, depression

Today I broached the subject of grief with my therapist. She hasn’t received her packet of letters that describes my grief and how I think I should address it. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that I think the reason for my craziness the last few months has to do with my grief and not dealing with it. Course, I didn’t think much of it until I asked if grief can cause psychosis. Then I just shut down. And thank god, it was the end of session. She wanted to see me tomorrow but I told her Tuesday was fine. It will give me more time to think about how to approach this.

She encouraged me to write about this stuff and how I am thinking about it but I don’t know how. Just thinking about my losses just makes me extremely sad. It’s like knocking the wind out of me. I mean, I used to be able to work two friggen jobs and now I can’t even work one. I was stable enough to work in one job for fourteen years and then I messed it up because my foot got messed up. I don’t know if I could work again at the same job. I would like to. But I can’t be all running around like I used to. Thing is, being a lab assistant, you sometimes have to do phlebotomy (draw blood) and I was never keen on drawing blood. Even the easiest of veins I blew and I don’t want to go back to it ever again. I was lucky my department didn’t have to do that. There was a separate department for blood draws.

It still hurts that after fourteen years of service I was just not accommodated by my job to do my job. It really hurts. I never told anyone how bad it is losing my job. Even though it has been almost a year and a half now. It also sucks I can’t do my other job of driving around Boston picking up samples because my driving record got messed up. I got a speeding ticket one morning because I was too sleepy to notice I was over the speed limit. But a State trooper noticed and I got fined. Then because I couldn’t pay the fine, my license got suspended. It took me almost a year to get it all cleared up. But it is going to take a while for me to have a “good” driving record again. And that kills me. I know it doesn’t matter now because by the time I have a car of my own again, I will be “good” again. But the fact that I can’t get a Zipcar to have some independence just kills me. I can borrow my sister’s car to go places but mostly her husband takes it and I hate driving the truck. I know I should conquer my fears and learn to get used to it but I have a peripheral defect and I am just afraid I am going to sideswipe someone or something. And I HATE backing up in the drive way because my sense is not great. Even with the car I hate it, especially when there is a car parked across my driveway.

I really have other deep losses such as the loss of myself and the loss of my abilities. Walking used to be my joy. I was able to walk long distances and think nothing of it. It never bothered me. Sometimes it did when I used to get Charlie horses if I walked too far and didn’t drink enough. But other than that, I really enjoyed walking to the train station which is about a mile away. I used to do the Walk for Hunger, which is a 20 mile walk around Boston. Haven’t done that in years but I am determined to do it one year, long as I go slow. I will have to do mega training to work up to it as right now my limit is four blocks .

Then I have the loss of my bodily functions. I never thought that at the age of 36/37 I would have to wear diapers to events that last longer than a few hours. This is because I no longer get the signals to my brain that my bladder is full. Once I am full, I start leaking excess until I do go. It isn’t until I feel wet do I ask myself the last time I went potty. The number 2’s are a different story. I can’t feel myself went I go unless my stools are hard. If you are the squeamish type, I would stop reading right now. This could be disgusting to you. If my stools are soft I don’t feel them as they move out. If I have the runs, I can quickly have an accident as I can’t hold them long, though I have been lucky the last few times in holding them in by not letting loose my farts. If I lose control of my farts, I lose control of my stool and well, you got it. A nice number 2 in the pants. It has only happened to me a few times, the worse was when I took too much fiber pills and thought I was farting but really I was shitting myself. That was a lesson learned. I usually take senna because I find that it is the only thing that makes me go without too much trouble. Too much however can cause very bad cramps and possible accidents. Every time I have an accident or have skid marks because I didn’t wipe myself well enough, I lose it. I really go into a darker place and usually want to kill myself. Same with when I have a urine accident but I am getting used to them. Having stool in my pants is a real downer. And I don’t think anyone can get used to that. It makes you feel so small. And people take it for granted that their bodies will tell them these things. My body, because of the nerve damage, no longer does. And it is a HUGE loss. Again, not something I have dealt with nor wanted to.

Then, of course, there is the loss of where I should be now had my mental illness not shut me down and forced me to stop school once again. I call this the “if onlys”, such as if only I didn’t have a psychotic breakdown in 2008, how different my life would have been. If only I went to a four year school instead of getting just my Associate’s degree I would be better off now than I was back then. If only I had decided to work part time and go to school full time would I have been better mentally than I am now. Or would the financial strain of not working been too much? Or would the strain of going to college full time really be my downfall? Either way, I can’t change any of it, but it is a HUGE loss to me not being able to go back because I fucked up. I should have just made a simple phone call to put my loans into deferment and I would have been able to go back now that I am just sitting on my ass doing nothing most days. I think me not going to back to college is the most hurtful to me because I loved my studies, didn’t matter what they were. I just loved being in academia. Psychology is really my thing. And I know I could have been a good therapist. But I don’t think those dreams are ever going to come true. Maybe if I win the lottery.

Then you take into account all the times I have been suicidal. It is a loss because I am still having to piece back my life and I don’t like it. I rather be pushing up daisies for eternity. But as past blogs have talked about, I can’t kill myself anymore than I can make a gourmet dinner. AND it hurts to go on living like this.