a hodgepodge of blogs

I am feeling a little lost. I was supposed to kill myself today. That was the plan for the longest time. But then I thought, “I don’t feel like killing myself.” That doesn’t mean I’m not suicidal. I just feel like I let myself down, again. I don’t know why I bother saying I am going to kill myself if I’m not going to go ahead with it. I’ve “cried wolf” so many times that I actually think I’m not capable of killing myself, despite coming up with elaborate plans to do so. I really wish my body would wake up and realize how dead I feel inside.

Ever since I read an article about the reactions of people who survive suicide attempts, I’ve been thinking about this. I am a multi-attempt survivor. Maybe my ratio of reasons to live vs. reasons to die is not high enough, or maybe I suck at trying to kill myself. Maybe I’m not meant to die, my time truly has not come, but I digress. There were nights I hated myself for surviving my attempts, and I still do.

Suicide attempters can be a challenge to clinicians. How to deal with this population that is at risk for attempting again? Research suggests that asking how they feel about their attempt is useful. A 2005 study by Gregg Henriques, and others found that people who were glad to be alive or were ambivalent did not go on to kill themselves, while those who felt they intended to die were 2.5 times more likely to end their life later. This could explain why some people attempt suicide once and never do it again, and why some people continue to try.
I was not glad that I survived. I was not feeling ambivalent. But I think some people do have these feelings, and they go on living. Yes, they have attempted, but it brought the realization that they were glad they survived. It’s something I have never experienced.
Reactions to how an attempter feels afterward can be an important clinical assessment. If we ask how people felt when they first survived, we might find a clue and prevent another attempt.

My therapist and I have tried to work on what to do if “Mr. Hyde” shows up while she is on vacation. But the thing is, I don’t feel the need to ask for help. I go about my business like I normally do, except that I write dark stuff and plan the end of my life. I am beyond hopeless, so what would be the point of reaching out? All I need is a pad and pen or my laptop, and I’m good. I express all the dark stuff on paper, or I send messages to people I care about, telling them I love them and that I will be in a better place. It seems normal to me, but I know it’s not normal when I wake up from this dream/dissociative state. The yellow legal pad, or the messages I get in the morning, remind me it wasn’t a dream. That I wasn’t in my “right” mind at all.

I think the stigma around suicide needs to change. People need to be able to think about suicide like they do vanilla ice cream. They like it or they hate it, but vanilla ice cream is still going to be around. As long as there are conscious people, there is going to be suicide. It might be by like people like me who are in chronic pain and suffering from depression. It might be by people who have voices telling them they should not be around anymore. But I do know that people should listen to the person who is bringing up thoughts of death or thoughts of killing themselves or harming themselves. The stigma needs to stop. The hurting needs to stop. I hope that people will read this and know they are not alone. The feeling of being able to talk about this openly needs to spread. Too many people feel they are crazy, and they don’t need to feel that way. Too many people seek help and are turned away because they have suicidal thoughts and need help. They just need an understanding ear and an open mind.

So the next time someone is thinking about death or thinking about killing themselves, I hope you ask them why, and listen. Because hearing their story is going to be the deciding factor for whether that person lives or dies.
My therapist often asks me how I get through this. There is a quote that I got from one of Kay Redfield Jamison’s books: “Only one option left, to suffer.” She is my inspiration, as she has bipolar disorder, tried to kill herself and is one of the leading researchers of the disorder.

I know it sucks, but the trick is to realize that when we feel this way, it is not our true selves. It’s the disorder talking. One reason why I’ve read so much about depression _ and there are a lot of good books out there, _ is that you have to know the disorder, understand it, before you can know what to do. Sometimes knowing the demons is better than not knowing them. I know that it isn’t always easy when our physical bodies wreck our lives and we have physical pain that drives us insane. But things aren’t always going to be this way. It doesn’t last. Eventually it lifts. The hardest part of this disorder is that we forget that we have survived the worst of it. Every time we are stuck in an episode, we think it’s for the first time, that we are never going to feel better, ever.

I am telling you that you are.

this is the story of my pathetic life with depression and chronic physical pain

I had a very distressing session with my therapist. She was all freaked out that I had thought of a clever plan to end my life. She didn’t like it one bit to say the least and I get another session tomorrow. OH JOY. I don’t think I can contain myself, not!

I started reading her the post I wrote yesterday. I think I might have gotten through the second paragraph crying and then I couldn’t finish reading it as I was sobbing so much. Funny how I didn’t cry when I wrote it. Weird, actually. I guess what I write does have feelings even if I am unaware of them.

I didn’t get back to my writing friend yesterday. I was too exhausted and drugged up to write an email. I don’t even know how I mustered up the blog. I didn’t write the blog in word like I usually do. It makes it easier in case there is a glitch somewhere and I don’t have to start over because of it.

I went out today but I didn’t shower or brush my teeth. I just threw some clothes on and waited for the bus. I wanted a cheeseburger really bad so went to the Joshua Tree and they had one with avocado! I loved it. I didn’t like the fries. They were way too oily. But the burger was everything I was looking for even though my taste buds didn’t appreciate it. It will sustain me for a day or so. I don’t think I will eat anything else today. I had my coffee that tasted like shit. I drank half of it and threw it away. I felt bad doing it but I knew that if I tried to finish it, it would come back up on me. As you can probably tell, I haven’t been eating or drinking good. I planned on buying a case of water for my room but forgot. I know I am dehydrated because my lips are severely chapped. I just can’t keep up with the fluids. And besides, more fluids means more leak accidents. I rather stay retentant.

I am craving a cup of chamomile tea so I might make that later. I really feel like I am stuck in a mudslide or cement or something similar. It take me forever to walk places. I feel like everything is uphill even if it is not. I don’t get out of breath or anything like that. It is just a struggle to walk, even with the pain I have been having.

I feel rotten that I can’t try my plan to kill myself today. I know now that it probably would not be a great idea. My bed would probably try to come with me even though it weighs more than I do but who knows. I am bad with physics and things and would probably end up strangling myself just enough to lose consciousness and someone to find me in time.

Because I am still going to be here thanks to my terrible therapist, I ordered my groceries to be delivered tomorrow. They are going to come between 730 and 930. Are they for real?? UGH Nothing like waking up early sitting around waiting. But then I can have my nice cold cut sandwich with bakery bread, pickles and chips! Damn I forgot to buy soda! Oh well. I don’t need the calories anyways.

So this is the story of my pathetic life with depression and chronic physical pain.

having a crappy crappy day

this is one of the few times I am not using word to type my blog before posting so if there are huge errors for the grammar police, I am sorry.

I have not done a single thing today. I was in bed for almost all of today. I just couldn’t bring myself to do anything. I need a shower. I need to brush my teeth, but I just can’t do any of that. I am just so depressed. I got it in my head that I don’t need therapy anymore and I have been trying to “sell” it to my therapist who is far from buying it. I successfully cancelled my appointment with her for tomorrow only for her to uncancel it because I have suicidal thoughts. I thought up a beautiful plan while I was in bed, in agony. My foo/ankle has been bothering me since the night before and other than cutting it off with a sawzall, I don’t know what I am supposed to do. I have been taking my pain medication around the clock and still have had no relief. So I started taking ativan too around the clock to try and make me chill. It has but I have not passed out like I was hoping to.

I am just sick of being in pain. No one knows because other than the four walls I trap myself in, no one else is around me that cares or listens to what I say. They still want me to go to the “top” doctor at this “top hospital” but I refuse because I am tired of seeing doctors. I am tired of them telling me (in an unspeaking code of course) you are fucked and I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you. But I don’t care go back to your primary so he can load you up on pain meds and don’t come back to my office because I have nothing to offer you. Physically, there is nothing wrong with my ankle, foot, or leg. They just hurt for some reason unknown to any of the 20 or so doctors I have seen. I might be exaggerating a little but I have seen close to twenty, in all specialties, from neurologists, neurosurgeons, podiatrists, physiatrists, orthopedists, you name it. All tell me nothing is wrong and that three have said that I have complex regional pain syndrome. Which to me is a vague for saying I don’t fucking know but we’ll call it this. There is no real treatment for this condition. Physical therapy won’t help. acupuncture won’t help. so I am just stuck living with this fucking painful diagnosis.

So that is why today around 5 pm, I started thinking about taking my life and shared those thoughts with my therapist hoping she would give me the ok to go ahead with it. NOPE. I got a session out of it and I am not happy about it. I don’t want to talk about it. I am done talking. all the words in the dictionary have been used up over our 13 year relationship. and a few more words that we make up and swear about. Today in the text message she actually swore and told me “fuck that shit.” it was in relation to me telling her we had no session but she didn’t want to hear about it.

I am tired of living. I have a friend in South Africa that is terrified of losing me because he reads these awful blogs I write. but they are my escape. I feel better writing them than I do actually acting on my feelings for killing myself. I know what I write is horrible. Now one wants to read it, well go to another “happy blog”. this is what it is like living with suicidal thoughts and if you don’t like it too bad. I don’t write things that are hopeful because I am not a hopeful person. Things sucks in my life and I have no control over it but what I do have control over is writing about how I feel. So if you don’t like it, there is the door. Don’t let it hit you on your way out. I am tired of trying to keep these feeling inside all the time. It wears me out physically and mentally. I know a fellow blogger friend is in the throws of this horrendous condition we call like and would gladly take it away in a heartbeat. I feel bad for her because I can’t really help her. I can listen to her and I guess that helps. I hope it helps. I just wish there was something more I could do to really help her have better days. But we have each other to get us out of the darkness and it is helping. It is nice to help someone going through the same shit that you are going through.

I recently declared on Facebook that I am not going to be on it much anymore. I am tired of the stupid photos that say share this if you lost someone in heaven, or the ones that show puppy mills or beat up dogs half starved to death. I hate seeing that shit. Yes I lost someone in heaven but I don’t need a candle every day to remind me of that loss. I want to unfriend all those idiots about dogs and cats being tortured. but then I will get the “why did you delete me” and I want to tell them, because you are a fucking idiot that is why!! I have a friend that posts stupid jokes all the time and lately she just has been royally pissing me off so she is going to be the first to go. I can’t take stupidity in an agitated state. I just can’t.

Think I will be going back under my warm blankets to try an escape the world…

really, really bad day

Been playing on Facebook for the last few hours, trying to get the nerve up to go play my game. I just can’t bring myself to do it. I have too much on my mind.

I spoke with my therapist today about wanting less sessions and she didn’t buy it because my suicidality is still kicking its head and she feels as long as it is, we are going to have session. Bly me. I am not happy. In fact, I am pissed. I hate this. So I did what anyone in my position would do. I took a couple of this and a couple of that and hope it knocks me out because I still cannot tolerate these fucking feelings anymore.

I just had Chinese food. It was good and the crab rangoons were really good today. I usually don’t like eating them but I was hungry. The chicken fingers weren’t as what I was expecting but the scallion pancakes were. I love scallion pancakes. I rather have that than a meal but it is only an appetizer. So I have lunch and dinner all done. I will probably finish off the Chinese for dinner like I usually do. I can’t eat it all in one sitting like some people can.

I am still feeling exasperated. Soon as I say I want to cut down on sessions she is like ok what is the logical reason for this. There is no longer a logical reason for this. I just want to get the hell out of your clutches so that I can possibly end my life. There I said it. No secret I am suicidal. I just want to be unconscious, permanently. It is really cold today so I just want to go under my blankets while I listen to the radio and try and zone out. No one has caused this to happen to me, I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

On a positive note, people have liked the blog that I posted yesterday. It is a reblog of the AAS blog that was posted last night. I am glad people like my writing, even though I don’t think too highly of it, but then I think every writer thinks that.