Tag: suicide attempt

Suicide is painless

by Midnight Demon, posted in depression, suicide, suicide attempt

Suicide is painless

I wish that statement were true. It would make my suicide planning that much easier. I have decided to end things this weekend. I don’t know if I will go through with it or if my pesky therapist will intervene and have me hospitalized. She is going to call my pdoc and tell her I am suicidal. I have been upfront with my pdoc all week. She knows the ups and downs I have been having. But she doesn’t know that this weekend will hopefully be my last. I am tired of living in pain.

I am thinking of all that I have to do. I need to write letters and leave instructions. I hope to mail out the books for my review. Kind of sad that I wrote a book about being an attempt survivor and then I kill myself. But I can’t worry about that now. I have decided to let my friend be the person to do the informing. To call my therapist and let her know I am gone. I tried telling her that today but she was so stubborn she didn’t want to hear it. Idiot. I will leave notes for my family. I know it is going to be rough for them. But I am tired of suffering all the time. I am tired of being suicidal and not acting on it. I just hope I can fool my pdoc Friday enough to get by so that I can do the deed this weekend.

I am so in the pit of depression, the familiar abyss. I still haven’t decided on a method to end my life. That is one of the problems with depression, you can’t decide things easily when you are faced with many choices.

I hope to be cremated as that is the cheapest and I want my ashes spread over my childhood place where all my thoughts went by Chelsea Creek. I hope my family carries out my wishes.

My therapist and pdoc are not to blame for this. I am a hopeless case. I am worthless and meaningless. It bothers me that I have known these people for more than a decade and I still am suicidal. I haven’t changed, I guess. Once you are suicidal, you always will be suicidal.

A cousin of mine from Virginia sent me an email today. He said he couldn’t understand why I think about suicide. And in response to that, I can’t think of why he values life. I just don’t understand why people want to live. There were two suicides today. One on the East coast and one on the West coast. The east coast had a jumper from a bridge. The west coast had a person who jumped in front of a train. I am sure there were other suicides today but those are the ones I know I about. Two random people lost their lives today and I am happy for them because I know they are no longer suffering. And soon, I won’t be suffering neither.

wondering if it was all a dream

by Midnight Demon, posted in depression, mood disorders, suicide

wondering if it was all a dream

I took yesterday off from blogging. I was in too much emotional pain to get my thoughts together. I emailed my psychiatrist today to tell her how I was feeling. I see her Friday but my last message to her was about how suicidal I was. I wanted to tell her that has lifted a bit but I still have a profound depression that is rearing its ugly head. I also wanted to let her know I got my fucking menses again. For the past several weeks, I have been dealing with the self-hate of being TG. Now having my menses are just fucking with me and my self-worth. I came pretty close to doing something this time. I had the suicidal impulses and that to me was scary. I didn’t do anything, other than take an extra Ativan to calm down the perturbation/impulsivity. Most of the suicidal thoughts are gone since I started menstruating, which isn’t supposed to happen because I am on pills to stop the fucker. But I still am in tough depression.

So I emailed my psychiatrist and told her, plainly, what was going on. I bet she probably figured out before I did that my suicidal tendencies were due to hormonal shifts. I did tell her the next time it happens, I might not be so lucky. One would think that because I have no job, that writing has become more than a hobby for me, and that I keep myself occupied, I shouldn’t really be depressed. MYTH! I could be deeply depressed even if I was working a full-time job. I know, I have been deeply depressed for years when I was working full-time. Now my writing has taken a little more of a hobby capacity. It has become my livelihood. You could say that I am living because I blog. But after a while, I can’t think of something fresh to write about and the depression hinders my thinking. I panic when this happens. I never know when a depressive episode is going to land me in the hospital. I know my hospitalizations have decreased over the years but I still need one a year, lately. It is just a way for me to recharge my batteries. I hate going in because it sucks waiting in the ER for a long time. I get bored and have to try not to use all the battery on my phone because reception sucks and it drains it all. I usually bring myself to the hospital because I don’t want my family to know. Should I be in the hospital because of this last suicidal episode? I don’t know. I am not feeling like ending my life as much as I did this weekend. My therapist was confused about the texts I sent her. It wasn’t a clear SOS. But then, I always become deceptive when I am suicidal. You can’t kill yourself if a professional knows the 411. Course, if I sent the same message to my pdoc, it probably would have landed me in the hospital. My pdoc doesn’t mess around.

I still wonder why I am still here. I should be dead with how heavy the suicidal thoughts were a yesterday. Course yesterday feels like it was ages ago. I am not saying I lost time. I was fully present throughout the day but now that I have my stupid menses, those heavy thoughts are no longer there and I am wondering if it was all a dream. Every time I get those experiences, I often wonder afterwards, was it a dream. But I know from the texts and blogs I wrote it wasn’t.

My therapist read the therapy and coffee blog that I sent her. She is a little embarrassed about it because I make her sound like a nut job. That wasn’t my intention. I asked her if she wanted me to take it down. She said no because I am free to write whatever I feel like writing. But now I am wondering if I should write a blog about lyrics and therapy. I worked hard on the coffee blog. I would hate to take it down.

Chronic pain and therapist suicide experience

by Midnight Demon, posted in chronic physical pain, depression, suicide

Chronic pain is a bitch

I woke up around seven this morning in pain. Instead of listening to it, I said fuck it, and went out today after my therapy appointment. I had to get out of the house to get a coffee and write. I am tired of looking at the walls in my room.

While I was up early, I checked my blog stats. Turns out my comparison of psychological pain scales was high at 3 views so I decided to send the link to the psyD I have been following on twitter. I really like this guy, not in a romantic way or anything of the sort, but as a person of interest in my interests. He talks a lot about GLBT issues and also of his dog. He has a basset hound. Though I am not really a dog person (I prefer cats), I do think basset hounds are pretty good. I could be wrong about the breed, as I only have seen one picture of her.

Anyways, I sent him my paper and he favorited it, which I hope in the twitter world, means like. I am so curious to see what he thinks of it. This is the second paper that I sent him. The first was my analysis of a song paper that talked about how to save a life. He blogs and today he sent out a blog about suicide. I read it later this morning after going back to sleep. I was sad to find out that he lost a patient to suicide a few years ago. He wrote about it in such a way that made me feel for him. He also wrote about how it was difficult to write because he didn’t want to violate his ethics of being a psychologist. There are several blogs about how he dealt with this loss. I haven’t had the chance to read them all, but I will because I think it is important to read. Not many therapists have the courage to acknowledge the loss of a patient, especially on the internet. It is such a sensitive topic for any therapist. I have read a lot about suicide and know that there is a 1 in 10 chance that a mental health professional will encounter a suicide in their practice at some point in their career. Out of the therapists that I have known where this guy works, I say he is the one. But I could be wrong. That percentage might be higher. Not all therapist deal with the loss. They may never want to treat a client again with suicidal tendencies. Or if they continue to see someone with suicidal thoughts, they may shift them to another therapist. Often, the therapist feels like a failure as my twitter friend wrote. But they are not failures. Suicide is a personal, private act. As suicidal as I have been over the years, I never wanted to share my thoughts because I was always afraid of being thrown in the hospital because of them. And after a dozen hospitalizations, I finally learned that if I wanted to keep out of the hospital, I had to stifle the urge to tell someone my thoughts. It became a lonely place. That is why in 2005, I shut down with my therapist and almost killed myself. That year was the closest I have ever been in my adult life, outside of the “chronic physical pain suicidal thoughts”. I say that is a distinction because I wasn’t in chronic physical pain then like I am today. I was deep in psychological pain. And I think that if my therapist hadn’t cried when I told her I was ending my life, I might have gone through with it, even though I told her what I was planning. I still had time to say “fuck you” and end it all, but her crying stopped me. It meant that I meant something to someone other than my dysfunctional family. I couldn’t kill myself knowing that I was going to cause her pain. Sure, she might have had a little post partum depression going on (she was finally back from maternity leave earlier that year) and my suicidal thoughts triggered a response I wasn’t expecting and also for her.

Ideas are like Stars

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

Ideas are like stars

I am listening to Mary Chapin Carpenter as I am writing this. The name of the album is “Songs from the movie”. She has a song called “Ideas are like stars” so I thought that would be my title tonight.

I had a visit with my writing partner. It really hurt to go out to see her but it was worth it. I have the rest of the week to be on bed rest. I am icing my ankle as it is pretty swollen. After the visit, my father wanted me to help him with something but I was unable to. It was a wasted trip. But at least I made the effort. That really flare up my pain. On the bus ride home, I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to walk home the block and half. But I did ok once I started walking. I don’t know what I would have done if I couldn’t walk. I probably would start crying from despair.

I really have been thinking about my last blog post about DID, Dissociative Identity Disorder. My therapist and I talked about it most of session yesterday because apparently I shifted tones in the blog and I didn’t even notice it. We talked more about it today as I read through the blog last night and didn’t notice any shifting. I read her the blog and it was when I started talking about suicidal gauge that she noticed the shift. It was very subtle, least to me anyway. She thinks that I may have dissociative disorder not otherwise specified because I am so good at it. Even when I am in severe pain, I don’t feel it most of the time because I just block it out of my mind. Like I am doing right now. My ankle is hurting me really bad but only if I focus on it. As long as I treat it as “background noise” it doesn’t bother me. I know I will have to take some pain medication because it is getting to be a 10 soon. There is only so much dissociating I can do before I break down and need to take something.

We did the SSF (Suicidal Status Form) again today to assess where I am at. I am still partly suicidal. She asked about self-hate and I told her I was ugly. That set off a long discussion about how I am not. Also brought about the body image issues that are contributing to my self-hate. I sent her a picture last night of my writing partner and I and she said that I was “adorable”. I thought I looked retarded in the picture. I am guessing we will talk more about this our next session.

Normal people sleep at this hour. But those in chronic pain are up fighting the demons that are keeping them awake. No one knows of this battle. It is kept in silence because no one wants to hear it. Tomorrow when I wake up grumpy for my coffee I will make sure no one is home so I can drink it in peace. People think that because I am in my room all the time I sleep. I hardly do anymore. The pain demons keep me up. It is a battle I face night after night. I am alone.