Tag: schizoaffective disorder

Knockout

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

Knockout

I went to Harvard Square today with the hopes of meeting my Twitter buddy. I did a lot of walking for an hour but it was worth it. I must have spent at least a half hour walking around the bookstore, just looking at books. I came across one called “Knockout: Mental in Massachusetts”. Its author is B.C. Scott and it is just as anonymous as the author wanted it. It was a fantastic little book, just under 120 pages. It was written in the style that my second book is, roughly 850 words or so per chapter. It was a quick read and I loved it. The person has an eating disorder, bipolar I, BPD, and PTSD. Her life was interesting as she was untreated for her manic episodes for most of her life. She was rarely down and when she was down, thoughts of suicide went through her mind. She thought of it and if she attempted, she doesn’t say. I know a lot of Bipolar I’s that think of killing themselves but never attempt. I hope she is one of those.

I didn’t get to meet my Twitter buddy because he had to see a patient at the hour he was free. He felt bad but I understand. I am literally two stops away from him so I am sure I will see him in the future. Plus, I love the bookstore that is a little ways from his office. That is where I found Knockout in the psychology section. It wasn’t supposed to be there but I guess fate had it there for me. I wasn’t going to buy it at first. There was no price tag on it or even a UPC code as it was made “on demand by Paige”. It’s their version of Amazon on demand books, self publishing. It cost $20 so I know I am going to sell my second book for $25 as it will be close to 200 pages. I love how the author writes about writing in her book and where she goes to do her writing. She doesn’t sound that much different than me, except she has the support of her family with her illness behind her, mostly her parents. That is something that I will never have, but I have learned to live without.

On the way home, it started to rain. I was going to stop in Starbucks for a coffee and something to eat but my leg started hurting and there was a long line. I couldn’t bear it so I left. I wait for the bus in my Square but it never came and I was really hungry. I just had a bagel at like 10 and then a pumpkin scone at Starbucks while I was waiting for time to go by to go to Harvard. I hardly ate anything and my stomach was getting angry with me. I really wanted steak tips but the line at the restaurant I went to was again long because it was dinner hour. So I went to Chipotle for a steak burrito. It was very good, even though I got sour cream and guacamole on my face while eating it. My sister sent me pics of quiche so when I went home (an hour later because the bus was late), I had some of that.

I emailed my psychiatrist early this morning because I didn’t have my trilafon. I now know it isn’t her fault so I told her stupid Epic was the reason and could she please call it in. I provided the pharmacy’s number and within an hour, my script was ready. I picked it up on the way home. My allergies were bad so I also got some Benadryl. It’s make me drowsy as I type this because it’s the gel cap kind. I only took 25 mg because I knew it would make me sleepy. The other Benadryl that I have is expired so I am not sure it has been doing anything. It has helped me sleep but nothing for my allergies.

I had therapy this morning. We talked a lot about the concerned asshole. She is the one that gave me the idea of writing the letter to this jerk off. She doesn’t want me to give up my blog either. I was talking to another blog reader who went through the same experience I went through. She doesn’t want me to give up my blog because of this asshole. I am sure the jerk is probably saying “better to be angry at me than be dead”. FUCCK YOU I say. You only prolonged my death. There will be other episodes, except you aren’t going to know about them. It just won’t be this weekend, you fucker.

I bought a new album today to help my mood. It’s called “Fighter” by David Nail and this guy is unreal. I love his songs and one of them is a Lady Antebellum song on their 747 album, I think. He sings it so good. I love Lady A and I wish they would stop giving away their songs to other artists. It wracks my brain because I am singing the song with Lady A but it’s not Lady A so it’s driving me nuts!! Like Martina McBride has their song “It Ain’t Pretty”. Every time I hear it, I am wondering when Hilary Scott is going to come in (Lady A’s singer). I still can’t decide who sings it better. I love Martina McBride but her vocals just sounds strange after you hear Hilary Scott’s voice.

I want to thank my readers for being there (except the one that called the cops, you can go to hell). Your support makes this blog worthwhile and doesn’t feel like I am wasting my time with it.

To The Concerned Anonymous Asshole

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

To The Concerned Anonymous Asshole,

I am assuming you are still reading my blog to fulfill your hero needs. Let me tell you something, YOU have destroyed my world, more so than it already was. A piece of myself has been betrayed the moment you felt dignified to call the cops to my door. I now feel that I have no place to share my suicidal feelings. I was talking to my therapist about this. She said that can be very dangerous. I hope you realize this. I don’t mean to tell the world that I am suicidal all the time because like depression, it ebbs and flows. This blog is about all that if you happen to read it. Hell, the top right corner says that this is “one person’s struggle with suicidal thoughts and chronic pain” you dumbass.

If you happen to notice the pages of my blog, I HIGHLY recommend you read “What my blog is about”. But obviously, my blog isn’t about me. It has become about you as you feel you are holier than thou. Do you know how hard it is to struggle every day with suicidal thoughts? Maybe you had a loved one die by suicide and you are damned to let that happen again. The fact that I am still here, angry, should tell you something, you jerk. I write to blow off steam, and I know if has the flavor of becoming concerning to people, but you as a reader, had the opportunity to comment before calling the cops. Now my suicidal thoughts are going to go underground and become more self-destructive. I hope that you are happy with yourself. You might have saved me this week or this month, but the suffering will continue. You cannot stop me indefinitely. NO ONE CAN. And if you think that you can, you are deluding yourself.

What gives you the right to think you can stop another’s pain? Who gave you that right? I certainly didn’t give it to you. In fact, right after I posted the blog that sent you on your holy high mission to save me, I had shared my blog with a suicide prevention therapist. He didn’t feel that my life was threatened in that very moment. What gave you that special power over him to wreck my life and my family? But go on reading. You need help more than I ever will. And if I ever find out who the hell you are, I will not be so cordial in my response.

writing just because

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

Writing just because

Because of the hurtfulness of the blog reader that sent cops to my house this morning, I never got a chance to talk about how my day went after the cops left.

I was nervous because I was going to be talking with my therapist and I had sent her one of the blogs that I privatized and wasn’t sure if she had a chance to read it before it went private. It was my declaration of what would happen should I die, an explanation if you will, that I wrote after I found a quote in the Idiot by Dostoevsky. I thought it was a rather nice essay and my therapist did read it as well as enjoyed it. She understood it. I had finished it sometime during the morning hours as I was up. I might change it to a password protected blog so that others might read it too. It isn’t dangerous, I don’t think. But my level of dangerous writing is obviously different than someone else’s.

For most of my session we talked about a lot of things. She really loved my sauce and squirreled it away from her family so they couldn’t have it. I laughed at that. I also called her a jerk several times for not leaving me and she laughed. I asked her why she laughed and she said it was because I didn’t say it with menace. I didn’t. I don’t think there is a menace bone in my body. The only person I am a danger to is myself and now this blog reader who thinks they have to save me.

I was talking with a Twitter therapist friend of mine who I gave one of the blogs I wrote last night. I asked him if he called the fuzz on me and he said that he didn’t and he would have talked to me about it should he felt my life was in IMMENINT danger. I stress that word because even though I wrote about taking my life in a few days (I can’t now because my family is watching me like a hawk), there was not a pressing need for that moment in time to call the fucking cops. Had I said that right this second I am going to take my life and there is nothing you can do, that would have been a different can of worms. You are an idiot blog reader who doesn’t understand how suicidality works. You may have bought me some time to think more about my plan, so I thank you for that. But that is all you did. And my therapist knows this. I make plans all the time. I usually have a high percentage rate of changing my mind and living, sad as that maybe. My therapist gives me the hope.

As I was talking with my therapist today, I was waiting on Walgreens to send me notification that my psychiatrist had called in my prescription. It’s still not in the pharmacy. I called three today and got no where. So she said she would call again. Anyways, notifications came through to my phone while we were talking. Since I posted an Instagram photo of my sauce with pasta, there is an Italian North End restaurant that has been tweeting me the last few days. They tweeted me again today asking if I tried out their restaurant. I haven’t replied because I was so upset about the cops showing up on my door. I still haven’t quite put out that fire. My mother found out about it and we had a “talk” today about it. I had to walk away, like I usually do. Maybe I can get a free meal out of the deal. I have no idea where they are located. I haven’t been to the North End of Boston since I was a youngster and things have changed considerably with the Big Dig. I am not sure I can find my way around. Anyway, my therapist is going head over heels over this. She thinks it is awesome that this restaurant has contacted me with my cooking skills. I am being humble as I don’t think my cooking skills are anything great. I just cooked some beef, threw it in with some crushed tomatoes and called it a meal.

My therapist thinks that my voices are not controlled well enough and are what is causing my suicidality to go 10 fold. Well, I don’t necessarily have the meds to control it fully so I am rationing my meds until I do. My psych is trying to get my meds to me but there must be a glitch somewhere with the new stupid system. I am going to have to call her tomorrow to find out what the hell is going on.

I have been crying and sneezing the last few hours because of everything that happened today. I have a headache and I am really tired. Luckily, my therapist has an opening tomorrow morning so I will talk to her. I sent her the short blog that I wrote about whether or not I should continue blogging. I am going to miss it if I do decide to stop.

Discouraged

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

Discouraged

I woke up this morning to police at my door. Apparently someone called the cops on me after they read one of my blogs last night. I don’t know which one and the police wasn’t kind enough to tell me who the caller was. I am wicked pissed off.

This blog used to be a place where I shared my inner most thoughts and feelings and now it has been turned against me. I have no other place to tell my demons to. And thanks to some caring jerk off, I can never talk about my suicidal feelings again. I don’t know what this blog will be about. I wish the coward would step forward and at least tell me their fucking name.

I accused someone falsely from my Facebook page. She was the reason I left my other blog. I don’t know how she found me again. If you are reading this, I apologize. I have deleted my Facebook page because I know they have a “suicide alert” system in place. I have no idea if WordPress has it. I still have no idea how the police found me or under what name. Doesn’t matter now. My family knows that I have been thinking about ending my life now. They will be watching me like a hawk.

I have been crying all day from the betrayal of my own words used against me. It makes me wonder if I should continue to write. This was my past time and now it’s compromised. I am no longer free to say what I want to say. I am restricted in my words, and I don’t mean by word counts. If I do talk freely, I will have to password protect what I write. I hate doing that because it restricts people from reading.