The Struggle is Real

The struggle is real

I got papers from the SSA today. I am under review to see if I am still disabled. I might have to see their doctors and the whole process has me very nervous. I am still under a deep depression and still want to kill myself. If that isn’t being disabled, I don’t know what is. I struggle to do most things lately. Just going to my doctor’s office today to get my prescription left me exhausted. I had to take a nap. Then I woke up and I was in more pain than I was in. I think the pain meds wore off. I hate that I have to take them sometimes around the clock to keep the pain in check. I don’t know how I can be seen as “fit to work”. I still have the delusions about the bad people in the Middle East. Just before going to sleep, I was thinking about it and what I would tell the doctor. I don’t think anyone believes my story. If I have to see a physical doctor, I think I would be screwed. I am in pain but not in enough pain during the day. I just hope my mental disability is enough to keep me on SSA.

I have been so depressed lately. I just stay in my PJs all day. I never really get dressed unless I have to go out. It takes me a long time to figure out what I am wearing, even though it’s pretty much the same clothes it was the last time I went out. The weather is somewhat warmer, which is weird for November. It reached 60 degrees F. today. It’s better than the cold weather we had last week.

My cousin has been trying to reach me. He is the one with bipolar disorder and physically healthy but makes me do the damn stairs when my mother goes shopping. He drives me nuts because every time I talk with him, it’s the same thing. He asks me several times how I am doing, then we talk about our money issues or lack there of. The struggle with depression. Then he hangs up. I don’t get it. He left me a message the other night like he hasn’t talked to me in years. It was very strange. I never called him back. I just don’t feel like talking to people. And tomorrow I am supposed to go to my little cousin’s birthday party. I really don’t feel like being around family, especially my mother’s side. If my ankle hurts at all, I am not going. I feel bad for not seeing my other cousin from Texas but I got to take my health in consideration. I have a lot of cousins on my mother’s side of the family. And the family still is growing. My cousin Jonny’s girlfriend is pregnant so there will be another little one around. They don’t stay little forever. I remember when Jonny was little. He is almost 30 now.

I wrote on my papers that I sleep a lot. I just don’t have the energy like I used to. I didn’t even write in my journal when I went out this morning. I brought it with me in case I did, but I didn’t. I always carry it with me because if I don’t, I will want to write. I did write in my “night” journal before I took a nap. I have to write something a little each day so that I am not far behind. Because I use my blog so much as my journal, I sometimes don’t actually write.

I have decided that after this month, I am not keeping up with the Quote of the Day blogs. I am having trouble finding quotes from Shneidman. I could use other authors but I really like Shneidman because it keeps with my blog, which centers around suicidality. I also wrote that on my SSA papers that I am suicidal a lot. I haven’t been in the hospital in a year but that doesn’t mean that I won’t in the future. In fact, I am thinking of going soon because I feel so lousy. But I need to go with my father for some medical appointments so it will need to go after that. My sister will have to do his meds. I don’t care which sister it is. He won’t care that I am in the hospital. As long as his needs are met, that is the important thing. He doesn’t care about me or my issues.

I really don’t want to go to the hospital, only because I take a lot of medication and I am afraid like last time, there will be more to take than what I am currently on. They always split up one of my blood pressure medicines so instead of taking one pill, I take 4. I might bring the bottle with me so that they can use it and I don’t have to take so many pills. I don’t really care that I will be babysat or that at night the idiot will shine a light in my eyes to see if I am alive. I hate that bitch, but whatever. Complaining never does anything. That is if I get on the unit I want. Last time I had to wait and actually go to the hospital to get a bed there. That meant hauling my stuff via the public transportation system. It was rough. I only had two bags but they were full. This time I might bring a suitcase so I just carry one bag. I hate packing for the hospital. But for whatever reason, it “knocks” me into staying longer. Only thing that will suck is that I can’t have sessions with my therapist because she is not a member of the hospital system. We can talk for a little bit but that is all. It’s just disruptive. I don’t do anything different than I do when I am inpatient. I might go to the groups if they interest me but mostly they don’t because they are DBT based or they are arts and crafts. I don’t do arts and crafts. I think it’s stupid. But most people like it for whatever reason. On weekends they have psychotherapy group. I wish they had that during the week. It would help so much. But I guess because the “team” caregivers aren’t around, they have the therapy group. I just feel mixed about going. My treaters don’t know that I am thinking about this. If they did, they would encourage me to go in. But I just feel like I can handle things on my own, even though I know I am going in a downward spiral. The pain is just not going away, the psychological pain. And it is the trigger for my suicidality. Pain, perturbation, and press. Those are the three things that Shneidman says are necessary for suicide, in addition to frustrated needs not being met. Right now I just know I am hurting and struggling to breathe. I feel like I am drowning and no one is watching me go down.

Quote of the day 27 Nov 2015

The moment that the idea of the possibility of stopping consciousness (popularly called “death”) occurs to the anguished mind as the answer or the way out in the presence of the three essential ingredients of suicide (unusual constriction, elevated perturbation, and high lethality), then the igniting spark has been struck and the active suicidal scenario has begun. Edwin Shneidman, Definition of Suicide

Quote of the Day 26 Nov 2015

Dyadic suicides are those in which death relates primarily to the deep unfulfilled needs and wishes pertaining to the significant other-the partner in the important current dyad in the victim’s life. These suicides are primarily social in their nature.-Edwin Shneidman, Definition of Suicide

Pain in the thigh and other things

Pain in the thigh and other things

I still feel low and in the dumps. As expected, my therapist told me all the reasons why I should be living. She even wants me to publish the blog I wrote last night. I don’t know why. I don’t think it’s any good. But then, it has so many hits today that it must be good. People don’t read something bad. I just feel like I am wasting my time living and all I can do is express myself the best I know how.

I did the errand for my father. I was walking with a cane because my leg is not feeling so good. I had twitches last night and it left it sore as hell. I can barely walk. He laughed when he saw me with the cane. That is my father for you. He only cares about himself and that is all. I feel worse after my excursion to his house and back. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just know I really didn’t want to go to his place tomorrow so I did it today. Now I am hurting more and all I want to do is take my pain meds and go to sleep.

Groceries came today. Putting them away was the start of my agony. I was walking all over the house putting the groceries here and there where they belonged. The fridge was full so I had limited space to put my refrigerated items. I got “permission” to eat my pumpkin pie as my sister is making one. I think that will be my dinner. I was going to make my steak but I don’t feel like cooking. I haven’t eaten too much today. I had a yogurt, some cottage cheese, and a pop tart. Now I feel like puking. I don’t even think I am going to go over my sister’s for Thanksgiving tomorrow. I really don’t want to be around anyone. I am just feeling so miserable.

This thigh pain that I am feeling really scared me. It reminded me about the time nine years ago I had my surgery. It took months to get it back to functioning. My therapist called it PTSD as I had an anxiety attack about an hour and a half before our session. The pain was so bad that it just caused anxiety for me. I told her about my feelings last night where I wanted to drink alcohol after I took my night meds. I thought better of it as whiskey and baclofen probably would not be a good idea. I hadn’t taken any pain meds because I wasn’t in any pain. I just had this twitching going on. I emailed my psychiatrist but I haven’t heard back from her. I also emailed her my story. I did take some Ativan too to stop the damn twitching after it went on for about two and half hours. I am so sick of worrying whether I am going to get cauda equina syndrome again or not. Every time I have some weird pain in my leg, I freak out and panic. I have been on edge all day. But the pain isn’t radiating and it’s not affecting my bowels or bladder. I have to go through a checklist every single time I get pain in my leg or back. If I don’t have this then I don’t have that. It’s awful. That is why I can never recover from PTSD. I am always triggered.

My heaviness in my heart is still there. The fact that I have found a song that equates my feelings perfectly helps. Jennifer Nettles just came out with a new song called “unlove you”. It’s another good sad song. But it doesn’t touch me as much as “Mixed Drinks about Feelings”. My therapist today was quiet most of the time. She really wanted to listen to me today though she wanted to go off on me. I don’t think she can tolerate my sadness. It brings her to want to do something to help me but there is nothing that she can do. Listening to her when she did speak did help me. It gave me some hope that there might be a tomorrow. I can’t tolerate today. It’s too painful.

A childhood friend of mine posted a meme about transgender. It was something like we shouldn’t make processed foods so why should we have processed people, meaning transgenders. It was that most offensive thing I have ever seen. I stopped following him. He has been irritating me for a while now and now I have to unfollow him because of his ignorance. This is part of the reason why I don’t seek treatment. I am too afraid of the discrimination I will face.