Tag: suicidality

CRPS Unpredictability

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, Chronic pain, chronic physical pain, CRPS, depression, mental disorders, mental illness, mood disorders, painsomnia, physical pain, suicidality, suicide

About 45 minutes ago, I have no idea what I did. I was in my normal fetal position with my feet on top of one another. I moved my bad CRPS foot into the curve of my good ankle and it felt like I was trying to snap it in half. I cried. I screamed OW. No one would hear me. My mother was knocked out. I tried to remain still but that just made the pain worse. I had to sit up and take a BT med. Carefully I maneuvered my feet so I could turn to sit up. Pain was all over my ankle and foot. I didn’t want to live anymore. What would be the point? More pain?

I posted on social media that I wanted to blog but I couldn’t find the words. All I could think to say was I am in pain. I posted why can’t I end it? Why? A few friends responded. I got a phone call from my cousin in Texas. I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to talk. I can’t talk when I am like this. My mind is in the gutter and no one understands. No one gets this pain because they don’t feel it every day like I do.

I posted to my CRPS group. Some of them get it. Some have been where I am. Rain is the only thing stopping me from ending it right now. I don’t care. I am reserving some emergency cash for when I feel like this again and the weather is better. Maybe i won’t go through with it.

I got a lot going on the next few weeks. Don’t know how but I’ve booked an appt nearly every day the last week in August. That is going to kill me and I’ll have to cancel some of those appts.

The thing that bothers me is that aside from doing a few dishes and showering, that is all I did today. I’ve rested most of the day. So why the fuck am I in pain now?? I had put on a sock on the offending limb because it got cold. Now it is hot. I am scared that taking it off is going to cause me more pain. But the sock is irritating me so needs to come off. Fucker

Swear post warning offensive language here in

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, cauda equina syndrome, Chronic pain, chronic physical pain, CRPS, depression, mood disorders, suicide

Swear post warning offensive language here in

So about two hours ago, I was smelling something. Had no idea what the hell it was. I thought maybe a cord was burning, something was catching fire, checked all my wires and electrical stuff. Nothing. I go downstairs to see if my mother sprayed something, and it is coming from the hallway, or so I thought. I went back upstairs. The smell got worse. I decided to open the damn window, screw the storms. I shut the vent or opened it (no idea) on my AC. Then go downstairs again because I had to pee. I check on my mother as her sugar was low. She was fine and then I see the culprit. One of my sisters bought a Renuzit freshener thing that was pineapple and coconut. It was stinking up the house. I shut it, told my mother, put it in the kitchen, and then went back upstairs fucking swearing.

I was talking with my BFF about stuff. I asked if she was okay. She said she was but I knew she was stressed. I won’t go into it but I was glad she told me. I was getting sleepy so I told her goodnight and I will check in with her tomorrow. She said she hopes to sleep too. I lay down, and my fucking legs become stone and hurt like fucking hell. I sit up, take some magnesium as that is the only thing I can think of to calm it down. I shift my position, causing me to move my ankle. Dumb fucking move. I saw fucking stars. Still hurting so fucking bad. I waited, hoping it would settle down. It didn’t. BT med time! I start having anxiety. I am ready to call my fucking psychiatrist, but what the hell is she gonna do? It is fucking midnight. I hate this fucking shit.

All day I have been having body dysmorphia issues. I really hate my breasts. I want top surgery so damn bad. But because of my damn pain issues, I can’t have testosterone treatment, which is delaying the fucking top surgery consults and what not. If I had the money, they would be long gone! I would find a decent surgeon and be done with it. I hate my body. I hate myself more. I feel like I am a fucking idiot who should be fucking dead. My therapist said that it was reasonable that I am thinking about suicide. Who wouldn’t be if they were in my crummy shoes?

I have tried to get my head around it. Someone reported me, again, to Twitter about my talk about suicide. I have no idea what tweet it was as they didn’t tell me. If I did, I don’t remember it. I know I posted last Friday after my pain doc appt. But I don’t think I have posted anything this week. Unless the word itself, suicide, is what freaks people out and makes them report people. I don’t know. They are assholes. If they would talk to me, that would be okay. I don’t know. Sometimes I want to talk and other times, I get the concerned but I don’t know what to do with you people. And it is all fake sometimes. Pisses me off, like bother someone else with you fake sympathy or whatever bullshit you are giving me right now. I know what to do if my safety is in danger. Been down that road one too many times and don’t think that just because I talk about suicide that I don’t know the crisis number or the crisis text number or someone I can call if I feel like I am going to act on my thoughts/feelings. It’s as simple as that. Do I want to end my life, yes I do. Do I want to do it right this second? No. But the time will come when I have all my ducks in a row to execute my plan. I am working with my therapist to kind of break the cycle of overwhelm/end my life thoughts. But until then, I can still plan. It is an escape. You don’t believe me, do research.

I want the meds to work NOW. I don’t want to fucking wait. I am tired of waiting. I used to be a patient person. Now I am realizing being patient, means just that. You are a patient of some kind to someone. The pain doc, psychiatrist, physical therapist, etc. you have to wait to see them. And it fucking sucks. I am tired of waiting. I want treatment now. And dammit, if I don’t get treatment, I am going to die. Maybe not by the damn disease/condition I have, but by other means, which I don’t know exactly what they are. This dying this isn’t easy. Probably is if you have some lethal illness but not a chronic painful one.

I hate that I can’t move my damn ankle the way that it is suppose to move. It gets fucking upset with me. Going down the stairs or up the stairs aggravate it. My right ankle is sprained so it hurts because the tendons are swollen and stretched a little bit more than they are supposed to be. I also walked a lot today. And went up and down the stairs a lot to find out what that fucking smell was that was irritating my respiratory system. Set off my allergies big time. I am sending them a text tomorrow and put it in all caps. That will tell them how fucking pissed off I am. Assholes. I don’t know which sister it was, most likely the middle one but I can’t be sure. They will definitely hear about it later today.

8 Aug 2018

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

8 Aug 2018

I had a good session with my therapist. I told him about the saga with my primary care office. I had to nurses, both beginning names with B that I called bubbleheads because that is what they are. After we talked about those idiots, I told him about how my suicidality was up and down and all around. He said that it seemed like I got some powerful emotions going on that overwhelm me and then my thoughts say fuck it, end my life. He was right about that. I am very overwhelmed with things right now, not only in trying to get my pain somewhat managed and taking care of my mother. It would be a hell of a lot easier if the lunatic wasn’t over the house every damn day as she is just stressing me out to the point where I don’t even want to be home to hear her. My mother isn’t that bad. She can manage breakfast, the lunatic usually does lunch, and then my middle sister does dinner if I am not home. Next week is going to be hard because I told him, I have a shit ton of free time as he and my psychiatrist is away. He then said I am free to text him until Saturday night as he leaves Sunday and won’t be available. That kind of helped me as his texts kind of reassure me that someone is validating what I am feeling.

I asked if it was stupid to get a planner and just “schedule” some things. He said no and encouraged me to do it. So after the appointment, I went to Walgreens as they have school planners available. I would have gone to Slate, but it was raining. I should have gone to Slate as I bought the wrong fucking planner. It is a 2019 planner, not a 2018-2019 one. Fucking idiot I am. I got my old planner out and ordered undated calendar refills. They didn’t have weekly ones so I am not sure what I am getting. At least that will hold me for a while. It was 5 bucks so not a huge deal. I can use the other planner when the year starts, if I am still around.

I don’t think I had the air cast on right. I swear every time I use it, I have it a different way than the way I had it before. By the time I left my therapist’s office and was waiting for the bus home, my right Achilles was hurting me. I wanted to take it off but I knew it would be a good idea as I am so fricken tired. I didn’t write a blog yesterday because I just crashed around 8 pm. I don’t think I am going to watch the game tonight. I missed the home run derby last night in the 10th inning. All I know is one minute the game is tied, the next it is 10-5 Sox. Game over. LOL. We got our 80th win. Sweet. I am so happy for our team. I love my boys. I have included some of my favorite players in this blog. Hope I don’t get in trouble for using it lol

L to R, Andrew (Benny) Benintendi, Mookie Betts, Brock Holt

about today’s therapy session

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

After I wrote my blog last night, I stayed up for maybe an hour and then I crashed. I was so wiped out and knew if I fought it, I was going to get overtired and then sleep whenever. So I basically fell asleep by 2130. But fucking stupid pain woke me at 0100. Again it happened while I was dreaming to wake me up. Annoying. I had taken my pain meds so I don’t understand why I am waking up in pain. Doesn’t make sense. It was difficult to go back to sleep. Around 5, I made breakfast. I read. I laid down to try and sleep but then my fricken bones started hurting. I didn’t fall back to sleep until 0630. I took my morning meds before I tried sleeping, including my pain meds as I put the do not disturb on my phone but set my alarm for exclusion so I wouldn’t oversleep.

The damn thing went off at 10 but I didn’t want to get up. I had to sleep because I had a late therapy appointment and if I stayed up, I might be groggy by the time therapy rolled around. I didn’t want that. I took a shower and then went to my room to cool off. Then I made some cold cut sandwiches for lunch. I then left to do the errand for mother. When I was done, the bus was there so I took it, even though it wouldn’t take me to the square. I ordered my espresso got some Pike for home. Then I had my sandwich. It was good. I had brought some cookies in case I wanted something sweet but I was too full. I wrote in my journal for a bit and then left for therapy.

Therapy was good. I brought up some difficult things I wanted to discuss but wasn’t sure if he would dump me after I told him. I said so and he said there were only about 4 things that would cause him to dump me. 1) self-harm in his office, 2) injuring him, 3) destroying any of his office things, and the 4) undressing in his in office. Then asked him if he planned on undressing and he said no. Good. I really don’t want to see him naked!

We had a good chat around my suicidality. I brought up some points that my friend on Twitter brought up with the blog I wrote over the weekend. He asked why I thought it would scare him away and I said because I wasn’t sure how crazy you would think I am. He said he has extensive work in trauma so understands how things can get wonky trying to cope with it when you don’t know how to cope, basically (my words, not his). I felt better talking about this and asked what to do about it and he gave me an answer that I didn’t like, which was “this”. And I was like what, put things in a bag and then pull them out one by one? Deal with everything? Come on, man, give me some guidance! We went over the stuff little by little until time ran out. But there is no structure with how we will proceed and that kind of irks me. He said I like control and I do, to a degree. This guy really gets me and I am so glad because I can talk to him and not worry he is going to force me to go to the hospital after we talk or bind me to some safety contract before leaving. The suicidologist in me is totally freaking out about this because there should be SOME plan but there isn’t. He has said that if I want to kill myself, I am free to do so, just don’t do it in his office, basically. This is really hard to grasp when I have had 27 years of therapists that have been very strict on safety and calling for help and the what not of trying to keep me alive. Sometimes I feel like he doesn’t give a shit if I live or die, but today I got a glimpse that he does care if I do. Usually, the therapist’s care if what helps me to know if I am worth caring about. I know my psychiatrist cares. She wouldn’t nudge me and be a pain in the ass about me seeing her if she didn’t. I don’t get that way with this therapist though. If I want to cancel, it is okay where past therapists have always given me a hassle on why did I cancel like if I didn’t have a good enough reason, I couldn’t cancel the session. I tell him I can’t make it, and that is fine with him. He understands that I have a medical condition that sometimes forces me out of the game. I sometimes cannot physically make it in. I try though and I sometimes wait too long to cancel until I realize I can’t cancel because it is past the golden hour to do so.

Anyway, these are just my experiences with this therapist. I like him even though there is no structure. Just talk and see where it goes kind of deal. It kind of drives me crazy some times but it is also okay because there is no linear path of getting better. Just like my memoir. It goes forwards and backwards. I hope we do talk about what we talked about today again. I think I will have to bring it up to work on it. I just don’t see him doing that.