Tag: schizoaffective disorder

wallowing in my suicidal mind

by Midnight Demon, posted in depression, suicidality, suicide

Today has been a sucky day. I didn’t want to do anything. I just wanted to stay in bed all day. But my sister asked me to pick up my niece and so I went only to find out, I didn’t. She had already picked her up. I would say that was a waste but at least I got some exercise in that I was planning on doing anyway. Now I can take my meds and just chill out.

My mother pissed me off this morning and this afternoon. This morning her alarm clock went off because she forgot to shut it off. Then she called me while I was trying to nap asking me if I was going to make her supper. WTH. I am a cook now? I don’t think so, not unless she wants scrambled eggs, which is what I plan on making for supper. Just because I had energy to make dinner last night doesn’t mean I can do it every night.

Therapy went horrible. We talked but we didn’t. I didn’t bring up the reasons why I felt so suicidal. I did tell her I was and she asked if it was because of the TG stuff. I just couldn’t bear to bring up the stuff again. Then she asked me toward the end of session if she could read my blog. I said no at first, but I sent it to her anyway. I don’t know what I am going to do this weekend to take my mind off feeling suicidal. I might go out tomorrow for Starbucks. I don’t know though. All I want to do is just sleep, and never wake up. I really just don’t see the point of me living anymore. I wish the pain medication that I have didn’t have Tylenol in it. It’s the only thing stopping me from taking the bottle. I would hate to survive the OD and end up with liver failure. But I have other stuff I can take. I just don’t want to do it at my home. I rather go to a hotel or someplace and OD there. I could always hang myself but I am not good with knots. My luck it won’t be tight enough and I will slip through. Sure I have other thoughts but nothing that I can concretely complete. I feel so small. I just want to hide away from everyone. I have another stinking session with my therapist tomorrow and it’s too late to cancel, not that it would work. She has the policy that I can’t cancel, ever, unless there is a good reason for it. And her knowing that I am suicidal is not a good reason for canceling. I feel like I should call my pdoc and let her know what is going on but at the same time, I don’t want to call her because she might hospitalize me. I don’t think I am there yet. I could be in a week or two, but not now.

My blog has crappy stats today. I only have 6 views today. I have been spoiled with recent views of 40 or more per day the past week. Yes, I am a number nerd. But I love the way WordPress compiles the data. One of my blogs has done extremely well and I keep track of it daily. But today it hasn’t had a hit. First time in a few weeks this has happened but the night is still young. The blog is also a chapter in my book.

Funny how I feel suicidal but I don’t feel Hyde’s presence. Hyde is the dark side of me that likes to come out and write suicide notes. I really think I need to be in a special zone to have Hyde come out. Right now I am just suicidal in my own realm. I want to die but I don’t have a plan of action. I just am wallowing in my suicidal mind. I like it there. I can come up with a million scenarios on how I can kill myself and maybe one of them I will go through. But right now I am just planning, or thinking about planning. it is what I do best.

Pink Rectangular Pill

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, depression

It begins with the shakes. The creepy crawly feeling that you hate. You are not shaking but it feels like you are. All the side effects of the one pill that keeps you sane. Small price to pay for if I miss a dose or don’t take it, I end up in the hospital because the psychosis strikes with a vengeance. The voices have gotten worse as I get older. Luckily, there is something I can take to stop the quivering and restlessness that I feel. But I have to wait till it takes effect thirty or so minutes after I take it. Thirty minutes is a long time when you are feeling like you are crawling in your skin. It drives you crazy. Sad part is that I am not even tired despite today being a long day for me. I watched a movie for the first time in months and actually had the attention span to watch it beginning to end.

The small pink rectangular pill. That is all that makes me sane and crazy at the same time. And it sucks being like this, this crawling in your skin type of feeling. I rather deal with the elastic ball type of feeling where I am being stretched out. That is more tolerable. But I can’t pick which side effect I want. I rather have none but, like I said, it’s a small price to pay. And as long as this isn’t permanent, I am good. I think tonight it started when I noticed the increased in saliva production. I have been drooling a little bit for a while but it stopped too, for a bit. This is the stuff I go through that no one really knows about except for my therapist and psychiatrist. No one else really understands when I say I feel like a rubber ball being stretched out. That I feel like I can’t stand being in my own skin. I have not felt this way in sometime. But then I also have been lax in taking my other white pill to counter act these side effects. I only take them when I need them so if I am not having side effects or feeling symptoms of PTSD, I don’t take it. My doctor trusts me with this judgment. She is not a pill pusher like some docs are. We have a good relationship.

When I feel this way, I can’t help but think bad thoughts. Thoughts that are self destructive. Thoughts of how I wish to be dead. Thoughts that if I only had killed myself before now I wouldn’t be going through this. I still don’t know what my purpose is in my life. It’s not like I am an aspiring country singer. I just am struggling with mental illness. And that is a battle I don’t wish upon no one. It is difficult dealing with these thoughts and feelings when you feel so crummy. It makes the world seem dark and gray. But then my world is dark and gray even on a bright sunny day. It’s hard to see anything else when you have a black cloud trailing you all the time. But that is what depression is. Only dark gray skies can be seen. And within this darkness there is no hope. That is the toughest part of this illness is feeling hopeless all the time. You try not to let it get to you but it sinks into your veins and you have no choice but to accept that things are never going to change. Sure you might be happy that one day but it never lasts. Too bad that pink pill can’t help with that.

just so frustrating

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

I just came home from eating dinner at my cousin’s house. We had a good time. I told him about my book but didn’t say anymore about the content of it. He is one of those people that thinks that if you don’t talk about suicide, it doesn’t exist. He doesn’t know about my attempts for this reason. He doesn’t want to hear about it. He rather hear about how crippling my depression is than hear about how suicidal I have been. It is a barrier so we just don’t talk about it.

I also didn’t talk about my being transgender. He made a comment tonight about how I am his favorite girl or something to that effect. I wanted to correct him but then I figured why bother.

I had an extremely long day that was mostly dealing with my family members. I think the only two members of the family I didn’t have to deal with today were my youngest niece and my brother in law, oh and my nephew. So three. I am exhausted just thinking about it. My morning was filled with going up and down stairs. My ankle is thanking me kindly right now with pain. No matter as I am about to take my night meds and go to bed. I am hoping that I will stay asleep till eight but I doubt it. My track record hasn’t been good and I didn’t get a good night sleep last night. I went to bed after two in the morning and then woke up an hour later. Took some Ativan and only slept for two more hours before I said the hell with it and stayed up. I lost track on how many hours I have been up. Plus I am sick so that doesn’t help me much. If I continue this way, I know I am not going to get rid of this cold.

I had therapy today and my therapist was on her high horse, which pissed me off. I warned her that if she didn’t settle down, I was going to hang up on her. The one advantage of phone sessions. I finally told her about what my AAS blog is going to be about. I didn’t tell her at first because I wasn’t sure if I told her what I did and I was afraid that she would be mad at me or get all worried on me. I don’t know when this post is going to be published but when it is, I will reblog it here. I think it is an important post about chronic pain and suicide.

Tonight while I was over my cousin’s, I was thinking of suicide and how I don’t think much about it these days. I guess because my chronic pain is well controlled and I am not hurting too much these days. But the depression. Man, that is a whole other can of worms!! That is making me wish I was dead so bad. I just don’t want to be alive and there is really no one I can talk to about this. I haven’t been able to tell my therapist because we have been dealing with my family issues lately more than my suicidal thinking, or death wishes. They are more like death wishes than actual suicide thoughts. I am not planning my death or anything. I just wish I was dead. I dread waking up most mornings. I have been having bad dreams. So I can’t even have a restful sleep even if I wanted it. It’s so distressing. I haven’t told my therapist about the dreams. She knows I have been having weird dreams but not every night. She doesn’t know that and I am afraid to tell her because I know she wants to talk about it. I would talk about it but I don’t remember the dreams. I remember the people in my dreams but not what they were doing or anything like that. It is so frustrating. And makes me wish I was dead all the more. I just want to escape. I need a place I can go to without judgment and criticism. Away from my family for a little while. I don’t want to go into the hospital because they aren’t going to do much for me and will most likely make my sleep worse. Plus I am not suicidal so it is not like I need to be in the hospital. I just want to die. I feel like the future is closing in on me where it was expanding on me before. Maybe I don’t have a future. I still believe that I am meant to kill myself. But I don’t have the lethality to actually follow through with it. It’s just so frustrating. I can’t live and yet I can’t die. WTF am I supposed to do. Yet I continue to exist. And I don’t like it.

too depressed to care

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, depression, mood disorders, suicide

I am feeling overwhelmed. I have so much to do with my writing that I don’t know what I want to do first. Then I think that I should just leave it up to the editor to sort out for me. But the depression is clouding my thoughts and I can’t think straight. I keep thinking about death. I don’t know if I should call my psychiatrist or not. She’ll probably tell me to take an Ativan. I just don’t know what to do. I am not in crisis, I don’t plan on taking any action towards death but I keep thinking about it. I think I have taken on too much in my mind that I can’t sort out what I need to.

And I keep thinking about the short story that I am working on. It is about death and darkness. I like how it flows but it is too short to publish. How ironic is that? A short story that is too short. I picked up the manuscript for it today. I wanted to work on my book at Starbucks but I forgot my phone and I hate listening to the music at Starbucks. It can annoy me to the point of leaving the store.

I can’t stand this depression but I there is nothing I can do but wait until it passes. That is the hardest part of dealing with the depression, waiting. You want relief now but there is no knowing when it will pass. It makes me sick. It makes me tired. It makes me crave carbs. Somehow I lost three pounds and I hope it stays off but I bought donuts the other day. They are my comfort food. I will try to make them last but sometimes I use it as a meal substitute because I don’t know what I want to eat. Bad choice but when you have depression, you don’t care about these things. But I am mindful about my weight because I am seeing my PCP soon and he always harps on me about it. It’s like something you can fix overnight. NOT. It takes time to deal with weight issues. Time and patience, just like with the depression. But you quickly run out of patience with depression. You wonder if you will ever feel better. Everything is a hassle. Even taking a shower can drain the energy from you. I felt that the other day when I had to go out. I am bad with taking showers and other types of self care but the shower to me, has to be the worse because I can stink and my family will notice. My sister has a nose like a bloodhound. I am not kidding. She is very sensitive to odors and I try to avoid her when I haven’t showered in a few days. I try to keep up with the every other day but sometimes it can be up to four days before I shower. It just is so hard. It used to be because of my pain that I would fear the shower, now it is because I am too depressed to care.

I also hate losing interest in things. Things like going to my Starbucks or reading a book. I haven’t even journaled in days. Sure I write my blog, which is kind of my online journal, but I also write the private thoughts that shouldn’t be share with the internet in my journal. Or just write to keep track of things so I know what I did on a certain day. I have found that it is much easier looking things up in my journal than on my blog. Even though my blog has a search function, unless I know specifically what I am looking for, I can’t find it. I feel totally useless in this regard. And lately, I have begun to feel more useless. I feel like I don’t have a purpose anymore and it just compounds the feelings I have about death and not being anymore. But my book continues to give me hope that I will help at least one person and that I must see it through. Though I am terrified of the editor, I must admit. I think that is scaring me silly. Seeing my work full of red marks is not a pleasant thought, though I keep trying to tell myself it won’t be many. But then, I am not seeing my book through her eyes or anyone else’s.

I am so tired of dealing with depression. Even though what I am feeling is a mild depression, I can’t help but think I should just end it just so I don’t have to deal with it again. It’s like every episode you feel for the first time, and each time it just breaks your heart into a thousand pieces. You lose hope. You feel rejected by the world. You feel lost and helpless, like nothing is ever going to change. I keep thinking of Andrew Solomon’s TED talk where he describes in detail of how painful it is just to eat dinner. Though I do know the ordeal of things, I have never felt like that. My thoughts maybe slower and less agile, but I never felt like it was a painful experience just cooking a meal. I guess because my mother cooks most of the time, I just shovel it in without thinking of the process of cutting the food and chewing it. But I do know the ordeal of trying to get dressed. Of having to choose what to wear when you want to go out can be such a challenge. That is why most days I stay in my PJs. The only time I go out, is when I really want to or I have the energy for it. Like today. It wasn’t dreadful for me to go out of the house. I had a specific plan in mind and I followed through on it. If I didn’t forget my phone, I probably would still be out of the house. Then there is the other thing, the anxiety of leaving the house. I have grown so accustomed to my being in my room all the time that leaving it can cause me anxiety. And anxiety and depression just don’t mix. It can be a deadly combination. But as long as I have a specific agenda and follow through with that, I can survive the anxiety. For example, today I had to go to Staples to pick up my manuscript. I took the bus, went to Dunkin for a cup of tea, then went to the store to pick it up. I wanted to take the bus to Davis to sit at Starbucks and work on my manuscript but the anxiety of not having my phone caused me to just pick up the short story and head back home. I was too focused on not having my music that I had to go home. I was really too depressed to care about working on my manuscript even though I left the house. I can work on it from home but now I am too overwhelmed. Think I will just write my therapist a letter instead.