Tag: suicide attempt

Times Have Changed But My Suicidality Has Not

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders, psychache, suicidality

I woke up because of having to pee and now I can’t go back to sleep. My room was freezing so I turned off the AC but then I realized, if I went back to sleep, I would wake up hot. So I have the AC on energy saver and hope the turning off and on doesn’t disrupt my sleep too much.

I am kind of in a dark mood. I just bought three journals because I needed them. The ones that I have are half way filled and I know by the end of the year, I will need a new one. I like the ones I bought. I am glad Barnes and Noble has such large journals. I do a lot of writing, in case you haven’t noticed.

I read one of my journal blogs that I wrote back in 2014. It was an entry that said that I cut myself and I went on about how scared I was that my therapist was going to flip out. I also didn’t want my psychiatrist to know because I knew it would cause her concern. The weird thing is, I don’t remember the incident at all. I had cut because of my TG issues. Now I am just suicidal. I have been struggling with this for months and I can’t seem to walk away from it. Like I wrote to my psychiatrist, I think there is a chance that I will go through with ending my life in a couple of weeks. I want to try it anyways, even though I know I am not going to like doing it. Suffocating oneself is difficult to do. But it’s the only means I have available to me. Worst thing that can happen is that I will be found before I am dead. That is my fear. And if that happens, I could have brain damage from lack of oxygen. That fear of being brain damage really wants me to stay away from this method. But it’s not like you can just buy arsenic pills on the internet like you used to. Maybe you can. Google hasn’t been much help in this arena. Even buying hemlock juice has been tricky. So I have come to the simpler methods that I have on hand.

I want my pain to end, permanently. Funny how I am writing about buying journals to write with and yet I want to take my life. How will those journals be useful to me? Most likely they will just be donated or given to my niece after I am gone. I am not sure what will happen with my things. Trash most likely. I haven’t written a will. I still have time, though I am not looking forward to it.

Since writing to my psychiatrist, I am afraid to write to her anymore. I don’t want to get a phone call after an email because she is concerned about my safety. Literally, she sent the email and within ten minutes she called me, after I sent the email the night before. I am so tired of worrying her and my therapist. Both want me to live. A lot of people I know want me to live, but how can I do that when I want to die so badly? I have been following the zero suicide academy postings on Twitter the past 24 hours. Jobes was there giving a talk about evidence based treatment. DBT, CBT, CAMS, and non demand follow up were among those shown to help decrease suicide. It got me thinking that maybe I should try to see another therapist to help with my suicidal feelings. Only problem is, money. I no longer have the money for copayments and I am on Medicare which only covers 80% of the visit. I would be responsible for the 20%. I wrote to my consultant last night. I gave him a blog reading of the “Love/Hate” that I wrote. I know that he would be interested in reading it. He was always curious about the relationship factor between my therapist and I. Now he will know in greater detail.

I follow suicide prevention because I am hoping it provides me with something to help my own suicidality. I don’t feel hopelessness. I think my depression would be 10 times worse if I were hopeless. I just feel so down that I just want it to end. I really think that if I try and see someone new, maybe they will provide me with some insight that I am missing. But ultimately, the choice is mine. No one can stop me, though they can try. I don’t think going in the hospital would be in my best interest. All they do is babysit you for 24 hours every day and drug you up. No real treatment exists in the hospital anymore. It’s not like it was back in the old days, where treatment and care were more important than containment and safety. I literally had to beg to be kept in house because I told them I was going to kill myself when I got out. Their response, “You are putting us in a difficult position”. I kid you not! And this was at a world class hospital! I won’t go there again. I won’t be subjected to non-treatment. Besides, the only ones that really cared were the nursing staff members. They took the time to get to know you and try and help you deal with shit. More so than your “treatment team”. It has been almost 11 months since my last admission. I like to say I am doing well staying out, but am I? They call you “stable” if you are able to stay out of the hospital for at least a year. How stable can you be if you think about ending your life every day? I just am not impulsive to act on my feelings every time I have them. Some people have not learned that self-control. I learned the hard way. I learned to keep my feelings to myself or I would have ended up in a state ward. This was twenty years ago. And times have changed.

Dark Moments

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

Dark Moments

My psychiatrist called me tonight after the email that I sent her. Here is what I wrote:
“things aren’t any better. I feel like all I am doing is going round and round on a guinea pig wheel. I am so tired that I can’t stop. Fatigue has hit me hard and fear the demons might come out tonight. I just wish this would all end. I’m tired of fighting the same battle with the same result. Bozo is going on vacation soon, for two weeks. I plan on taking my life the first of the two weeks. I just feel like a failure if I don’t try. Course I might be a failure if I do. I haven’t been too successful in either department. I still am getting heaviness in my chest. It’s like this invisible weight comes out of no where, pushing me down. Sometimes I can’t breathe. It’s not like a panic or anxiety attack. It’s just psychache that is very heavy. I don’t know if I am making sense”.

She wanted to know if I would still be seeing her on Friday. I said yes and I will be sporting a new haircut. This is how psycho I am. I am talking about taking my life and yet I want to get a buzz cut. I feel really anxious and I know it has to do with her call because I am so nervous. If she didn’t get in touch with me, I would be sectioned right now. She really was concerned. I told her something just gets a hold of me and I just write these things. To me, they are just words on a computer screen. They don’t mean anything to me, but when someone reads them, it is cause for concern. I don’t understand it. I know Hyde is responsible for some if it. I know he has been out more. Whenever I am dealing with TG stuff, he comes out more. I don’t know if I will be in the hospital or not. I am hoping not because Hyde won’t come out. I don’t think I am in danger. I just write my dangerousness out. I don’t think I will act on it, as much as I really want to.

These dark moments really get to me, after the fact. While I am writing them, they feel normal and translucent. It’s like I am not really writing them. I vaguely remember them in the morning. This is the second time that my psych has called me after sending her a terrible email of my dark thoughts. I try not to send them to her because I know they are cause for concern but I just can’t seem to hold back. She wants to know how I am doing so I tell her, honestly and truthfully. I know I probably should hold off sending them to her but I always hit send instead of save. I don’t know if I wrote on my laptop or if I sent it by my phone. The phone is easier to hit send than save.

I just feel like I am wasting her time in her trying to save me. I am just so miserable. There are no medications that she can give me to ease my pain, my psychological pain. There are times I just want to overdose on everything that I have to ease this pain, this psychache. But I don’t do it because I don’t want my mother to find me like that. I need to really do something about this. But I don’t know what to do. How do you cope with demons?? These are more than just dark moments. They are pure suicidal moments and they might just kill me.

I just filled in, the best I could via text message, to my therapist. I told her to call me today. I really need her assurance I am not losing my mind. Or if I am losing my mind, what we are going to do about it. I really don’t think going in the hospital is gong to help me. It never does. It sometimes makes things worse because I get frustrated. I just don’t know what to do. I wish there was an easy answer but there isn’t.

More Suicidal Ramblings

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

Tonight I was going through my blogs and came across one called “Am I still a Midnight Demon”? I remember writing that one because at the time, I was writing during the day, not at my usual midnight hours. The time had shifted because I was sleeping regularly and wasn’t so suicidal.

Now my sleep is messed up and I am again thinking about taking my life. I have been thinking about this plan for a long time now. But as much as I want to go through with this date, this time, I just can’t. I cannot take my life because I am stuck here. I would hurt too many people, those around me, those far away from me, people I don’t even know that well. So I am writing because my heart is dark. I recently took a “Rorschach” type of test on the internet. It said that I was dark. My aunt had used that term after she read my book. We were supposed to get together for a chat but we never did. Typical of my family. They always make these plans on getting together but never follow through. No matter. The chat might have caused me to feel bad and I would have hated that. She would be one of the people that would have been hurt the most by my death.

I recently did a google search for a former therapist so I could send her my book and give her a little update on where I was. If she contacted me, and I was dead, that would so suck. I am not expecting her to contact me, but you never know. I hope she remembers who I am. I spent three years of therapy with her so I hope she does remember me.

I really feel at a loss. If I don’t go ahead with my plan, I will be forced to “live” and I don’t quite know what that means. I have been struggling with death for so long that I really don’t know any other way to live. My life, to me, feels worthless. I don’t have a future. Hell I can’t even imagine what will happen tomorrow and that will be happening in the next few hours. I know my sleeping problem is part of the reason I am depressed. I tried to convey this to my psychiatrist at my last meeting but I think I just made light of it and it wasn’t heard. I often say that I am depressed but really don’t tell her how bad things are. I still have appetite issues, even though I haven’t lost or gained any weight. I think my on/off appetite makes up for it. The caloric intake that I have equals itself out on my eating and not eating days, I guess. I feel useless, worthless, full of guilt at times. And you can’t forget about the psychache. Tonight I have had to take deep breaths trying to dislodge the heaviness in my chest. It’s like a heavy coat that I always carry but no one sees. I wish my psych had some magic pill I could take to make it go away but she doesn’t. Her hands are tied because I am such a fucking treatment resistant case. No pill has worked to alleviate my depression, successfully, for a long time. It was remeron that saved me last summer but I don’t think it is working anymore. Hell, I want to give up all my psych meds except my abilify and Ativan. But I know that if I do, I will just feel worse and might be impulsive enough to try and attempt suicide. I need to stay on the abilfy to keep the voices and other psychotic symptoms away. The Ativan I just need to take with the abilify to keep the side effects away. I also need the Ativan to keep the crazies away when I need sleep. It helps to shut my brain down enough so I can go to sleep when I am hyped up, for whatever reason. I don’t get hyped up too often at night but sometimes when it’s after 0200, I need the shut down. Otherwise, I might be up all night. The “crazies” are when the thoughts that are ruminating and I can’t turn them off. I often don’t know what to with myself.

I often think about what my death would bring. If people would be better off without me in this world. I sometimes feel like I am a burden to all that I touch. I hate living this life feeling this way. Nothing makes me happy or brings me joy. I always feel discontented all the time. The only thing that I value in my life is my writing, which sometimes I feel is useless ramblings. I got the brilliant idea of collecting these ramblings and making another book out of them. But then I thought, who wants to read about my suicidal feelings? It’s one thing to post this to the internet. It’s free. But having a book means someone has to pay to read it and not that many people would, I think. My words are meaningless.

I just started a book about shame and perfectionism. It’s a self-help book that deals with insights into what is causing shame. Author has ADHD. She talks in circles and it’s hard to follow her. I don’t know if I am going to get anything from this book but I have learned what has caused my anxiety with the few pages that I have read. I never had anxiety until I moved into the town I currently live in. And it’s because of change I get anxiety. Having a chronic pain illness changes you and I have anxiety because I never know when that pain is going to shoot up. The author doesn’t talk about suicide or suicidal thoughts. My guess is she veered away from that as much as possible. I seriously doubt that in the 20 years she has been practicing, no one has been suicidal at times. But then she doesn’t know me. She doesn’t know that part of the reason I want to end my life is because I cannot take the physical pain I feel nearly every day. Tonight the pain is way up there despite taking my pain medication. I might have to take the stronger pill to quiet it down. I just never know when and if the pain meds are going to work. The pain is from nerve damage that caused a pain syndrome. Most of the pain is physical because the pain meds usually do work but tonight I am feeling different kinds of pain all at once. And it is shooting up my heart rate causing me to feel panic. I think that I might get something known as Cauda Equina Syndrome again and it sets off my post traumatic stress disorder symptoms nearly every time. This change is what causes me to panic. I might not have a full blown anxiety attack but I feel really nerve racked. I try different things to get the pain under control besides medication. I write, I distract, I listen to music. I even talk to my “normal” voices. Sometimes that helps. Not every time, but it helps the anxiety more than the pain flare up. I don’t know if the anxiety that I feel jacks up my pain levels or vice versa. It’s hard to tell. I just know that since I developed this pain syndrome, my life has changed and it hasn’t been for the better. Another reason why I want to take my life. I just want the pain to end and if that means my life has to end, too, well so be it.

Another thing this author talks about is dignity. She states that it can never be taken away because no one can take it from you. How wrong she is. My dignity has hurt in so many ways from my pain illness it’s not funny. I have bladder and bowel accidents. Every time I crap my pants it hurts. My dignity takes a hit. It takes me days to recover from this. My bladder has leaked more over the last few months and I am so used to it that it doesn’t really bother me as much anymore. It’s still in the back of my mind, but it still reminds me that I am not a “whole” person anymore. Those days are gone, long, long gone. I have been dealing with this loss for nine years now. I wish I could say that it gets easier but it doesn’t. The smell always reminds you that you are not a fully functioning person anymore. I used to wear diapers when I went out for more than four hours. But now I don’t. It depresses me more when I take the diaper off and I have urine stains on the it. I don’t realize I leak because I can’t feel myself due to a nerve injury to my cauda equina nerves. They are the nerves in your back and control all the functions below the waist. I usually don’t drink enough fluids throughout the day because the more you drink, the more you got to pee. But some days I am just so thirsty that I need to drink, especially now that summer is approaching. It just sucks.

Third Blog of the Day: Suicidal Ramblings

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, chronic physical pain, depression, suicidality, suicide, suicide attempt, transgender, writing

Okay, so this is my third blog of the day. I just feel the need to write as my brain is overloaded with this heatwave.

I love my new haircut but my mother doesn’t. My father didn’t see it today. I didn’t remove my baseball cap so he could comment on it. He was wondering why I didn’t shave my goatie I have going on. I usually trim it when I see him but I am tired of trimming it.

My brother in law put in my AC so my room is more tolerable now than it was earlier this afternoon. I am wicked tired. I should be sleeping but I feel like I should write. I got too much stuff on my mind. Like why am I not a boy. Why do I have to have female breasts. I feel like such a loser.

My therapist doesn’t know the week I plan on killing myself. I won’t be telling her. I have everything planned out, sort of. Only question is timing of it. I still need to give my psychiatrist her goodbye letter that I wrote a month ago. That is important to me. She needs to know what I have written. I think I will mail it the day I will die. Course, I am still ambivalent and might not go ahead with my plans. I still have not found a cyber person to take care of my social media accounts when I die. But then, I don’t think too many people pay attention to what I write so it might not be a big deal, especially on Twitter. I really don’t see too many people responding, but I could be wrong. I won’t know because I will be gone.

I wish I could say what my reasons are for killing myself. Pain is one. Being transgender is another. Living in a female’s body sucks. In June, I have to go for a pap smear because it’s been ten years since my last one. But I am wondering if it will be worth it at all seeing as I will be dead a few weeks after I am gone. It’s almost like, why bother? I go through the motions as if I want to live so no one has a clue I want to die. It’s not like it is written on my forehead.

Another reason I don’t want to live anymore is because I am tired of living a life I just don’t want to live. I am tired of breathing. I am tired of just being. I am tired of my life being such a struggle every day and no one noticing. I am tired of hurting every single day. I am never going to be a stellar writer. Hell, I can’t even sell 100 copies of my book. I can’t even give them away for free. That is how bad my book title is, perhaps. I am not looking for awards but a simple appreciation can go a long way. I am going to give the book away to the two people that have influenced the book the most. Then I am going to kill myself. I am such a loser. I keep thinking that this is wrong, that I can’t kill myself. I don’t have the guts to go through with it. But I can’t help thinking that suicide is the answer for me. It will solve the pain piece. I won’t be in pain anymore. I can go to my death bed as a female like how every one sees me. My psychiatrist still sees me a female, not as a male. But then I have known her since I was a kid. I don’t blame her. How do you make that kind of transition? Even my eye doctor is the same way. It’s all confusing and rather than sort out the confusion, I rather die. I should maybe write a goodbye letter to my eye doctor. I have known him for more than twenty years. But how do I even begin to write something like that? He is a good guy. We have hung out together for a little bit, coffee and movies. I have even made him dinner a few times.

Then I think about my family and how devastated they will be when I am gone. It kills me. Some days I care and others I try not to. Knowing that I will be a source of their pain is not a fun thing to know. I try not to think about it because it always puts a stop gap measure in my planning. I love my sisters and my nieces and nephew. I know that this will hurt them beyond all measure. But I know they will get over my death with time. It is the one thing that I think keeps the suicidal demons going is knowing this. I don’t care how my aunts will react to my death. I worry that my mother will die of a broken heart. But then it will be her “daughter” and not her “son”. She wouldn’t have to deal with me becoming a man. And I think that is better for her.