sleepless night

Listened to the Sox win the game. I can’t sleep. It is too hot in my room despite the A/C cranked. My ankle is killing me and I just took an Ativan to try and calm down as my thoughts are squirrelly. It’s going to be a long week as the Red Sox are on the west coast this week which means the games are going to be late ones. I have not missed a game all season, though I might have fallen asleep during one or two. Listening to monotone voices will do that.

I miscalculated my numbers for reaching 10,000 views for my blog. Unless I can get 40 views per day over the next two weeks, I am not going to reach it. My average is 20 views per day so I seriously doubt it is going to happen. But, stranger things have happened. I got 143 views in a single day. If that happens again, I will be in good shape. The nice things about knowing the stats is where the views come from. Today I had about 10 different countries looking at my blog. Usually I just have the US, Canada, the UK, and sometimes Australia. Today I had those four plus Bolivia, Belgium, and India. I forget the other countries.

I hate it when I can’t sleep. It makes me really restless and the more I try to sleep the more restless I get. Which is why I am writing. Sometimes writing will calm me down enough to sleep. I don’t feel racy. My thoughts are just going around in circles because my ankle pain is driving me nuts. I had a deep stabbing pain earlier this evening and now my ankle and foot are on fire. I can’t seem to find a comfy position to put my foot. I am a side sleeper and usually sleeping on my right side will ease the pain but not tonight. So I switch and that makes it worse. I can’t sleep on my back because I will have to raise my feet up so my back doesn’t hurt. And I am too lazy to grab my trapezoid foam cushion to put my legs up. I know I am making excuses. But it’s tough being in pain this late at night. If I am not asleep by two thirty in the morning, I will take another dose of my pain meds. I can’t take anymore right now because it will be too early.

Because of my suicidality, I have been thinking of going in the hospital but there is no way that I can. Not with the way my current pain med prescription is written. I will only have one pill every six hours. That is not going to do me any good, especially when I am in this amount of pain. And if I get a flare up in the hospital, which I most certainly will, I will be beyond screwed. I know I did too much today and now I am paying the price. I hope tomorrow will be better but it already is tomorrow.

My mood still sucks. I still feel like I am in a bottomless pit. I hate it. I have tried to get out of it a few times today but it seems every time I try, the deeper I am sucked in. I have listened to good music to try and keep my spirits up but it has done nothing for me. Just made me think more about why I am single and not in a relationship. Made me think of my ex-girlfriend who I know I hurt once again. I have been meaning to try and text her but I know it is probably for the best that I leave her be. I miss her though. I miss talking to her. But she is crazier than I am. Because of this, I broke up with her again. She just doesn’t realize that she is hurting herself in ways and I can’t be around that. I have tried to point it out to her several times and still she goes back to the same behavior so I put an end to our relationship. It was difficult to do but it had to be done.

Maybe that is why I am depressed. I have not told anyone about how I feel about losing her. Everyone has told me to dump her, that she isn’t good for me. But yet I have not told anyone how much it hurts being apart from her. I know she isn’t good for me and I am probably not good for her, but that doesn’t mean that my feelings got hurt in the process. We have known each other since high school. It really hurts to see this relationship end because of differences of opinion and her wanting to be the victim all the time. And she not taking care of herself. That is what killed me. We are 90 miles away from each other and I couldn’t be there for her even if I wanted to. And another reason why I ended it. No long distance relationship lasts.

I guess I will stop here as it is approaching 2 am.

Most Miserable Man Living

I knew it was going to happen and it did. I crashed into the bottomless pit of depression the other day and can’t seem to pull myself out. I go through my daily routine of getting coffee but it’s so hard to do when all I want to do is stay in my A/C’d room. It is wicked hot in the house and even worse outside.

A friend of mine just came back from Brazil and wants to make plans with me but I don’t feel much for socializing. It takes such an effort to get out of bed and do the hygiene of showering and brushing my teeth. I get exhausted so easily when I feel this way. Everything is an effort. Even my writing is an effort.

The quote that I wrote yesterday in my blog about being the most miserable man living is accurate. I do feel that it is impossible for things to get better. I feel I must die as that is the only way out of this misery. But I don’t see how I can do that. I want things to end but have no real clue as to get them done. Well, I mean, I know the hows to die. Drugs, rope, razor, etc. But the thing that is stopping me is that I don’t have a place to do it. I need a secluded place, like a hotel room or some where isolated. I had a spot during my childhood I could go but now they have turned it into a park. I am so mad that my one secluded place on the planet is now a friggen park. They don’t have much there, just a place to sit down and enjoy the water. No fancy playground or anything of the sort. Just benches and grass. It used to be tall weeds and nothing. The perfect place to do the unthinkable, least to me it was.

I have thought of other places to do the deed but without a car to get there, they may as well be a million miles from where I live. So I am stuck here. What got Lincoln through his depression in 1841 was knowing he had a purpose in his life to achieve. I don’t know if he thought of the presidency then. But he definitely wanted to be in his legislation of his times. That is one reason why I love him. He was able to get through the thickest of depressions and though he remained melancholic throughout his lifetime he still pushed on. I know that I will get through this depression. I usually do. But sitting with it is so damn tough. I get impulsive. I get the urge to do something harmful to myself. But I fight it off the best I can with distraction and what little coping skills I have learned through the years. Music to me has been the greatest. I know you are probably supposed to listen to “happy” music but I find listening to the lyrics of sad music helps me get through. It takes my mind off my problems and think of things or helps me to write better because I can focus on something other than my misery.

Just got a tweet from the current prez of the AAS. I haven’t seen him post his unsuicide campaign in a while and wanted to say hi. While it is a worthwhile campaign, I don’t think you can truly stop every suicide. Sure the Lifeline hotline (800-273-TALK (8255)) does help people. But it doesn’t capture every single one that truly needs help. Siri has now added this lifeline to their questions about death and suicide. I know a lot of people have iPhones more than any other but why can’t google/Android have the same. I just spoke “ways to die” on my phone and got directed towards a veteran’s hotline. The rest were truly ways to die rather than seeking help. I think this is useful but not when someone is in a crisis. I know because I have been there and the last thing on my mind was to call for help.

Dysphoria of sorts

All I want to be is DONE.

I didn’t know what to write about today. It’s taken me a long while to come up with something to write. I tried writing in my journal while I was at Starbucks but I just left a blank page. I have been feeling paranoid lately. I feel like everyone is watching me. There were a lot more people in the store today than there usually is so I guess it kind of prevented me writing. I was also really hot and wanted to just sit in the air conditioned room. I also wanted to enjoy my new iced coffee, Kati Kati. I got an email from Starbucks last night about it and so tried it today. It is a little stronger than my Isla Flores but it is ok. I loved it! It was the one joy on this dismal day.

I had therapy this afternoon. I really didn’t want to talk but then I got really suicidal. I had fantasies where I would hang myself off the back porch while my family would be at my cousin’s house for the 4th of July BBQ. We worked out a safety plan that didn’t include me downing a bottle of one of my medication. I am to write and go through my crisis response plan (to what that entails, check out this blog). If these things don’t work, I am to try and get in touch with my therapist, psychiatrist, or go to the hospital. I truly have crashed. I don’t have the energy to do anything. I have no motivation. I just want to crawl under a rock and die.

I knew this crash was coming. I just didn’t think it would come this fast. I think it just came at the beginning of this grief that I am feeling. I also am feeling trapped by living. I don’t want to live. I just want to die. Life to me is just worthless. Nothing gives me pleasure except that one coffee I have from Starbucks a day. And watching baseball games. Least I can get lost for a little while watching the games because each pitch keeps me entertained. I love when the batter keeps fouling pitches and the at-bat count gets about five. My sox are good at working the pitch count in their favor.

I texted my therapist about what to write. She told me to write about something but I forgot what that is. I think it was on feeling trapped but that has many definitions. I feel trapped because I am now forced to live this thing called life and I don’t want to. I feel trapped because I am in the wrong body. And that truly is what is depressing me. I know my hormones are still going whacky. I just think that this whole business of transitioning to another gender is too hard. I can’t even talk about it anymore. I am starting to feel like a freak. Sure I can dress in male clothes all I want but that doesn’t help my huge chest. I wish they were just man boobs (which I guess technically they are) but it distresses me. I can’t stand looking at myself in the mirror because I am ugly. I know that I have some form of body dysmorphic dysphoria. But if I already am dysphoric in general, does that mean that I have all the other dysphorias? I have gender identity disorder, how can I not. I want to kill myself because I am in the wrong body. I want to be a boy. And sadly, I don’t think that is ever going to happen because of my damn menstrual cycle. In order for me to get rid of my menses, I had to pretty much tell the doc that I get more than just the typical depression with my periods. I get down right suicidal. So pre-menstrual dysphoric disorder was tacked on to my list of diagnoses. Another female diagnosis. It is a good thing that I don’t have access to guns. I think I would have blown my brains out by now.

Four Buses to Perform my Civic Duty

I had to take four buses today to vote for the Mass Senate election today. It would have been five had my cousin not dropped me off at Starbucks first. And it is hot and muggy out. I thought I was going to fry while waiting for my third bus.

UGH, Just got a text from my baseball network tweets that my favorite infielder is going to AAA and another infielder that I never heard of is taking his place. Took me I don’t know how many scrolls to figure out that this guy was an infielder because in the tweet that I got, it also listed the backup catcher on the 60-day disabled list. I wasn’t sure if we got another catcher or infielder. Wish they would be more clear but I understand that you have only so many letters to tweet.

I have a week off of therapy. I am glad as yesterday’s session annoyed me. She was the inquisitor asking me fifty million questions ranging from how I am doing to how I was feeling to when my next appointment was with my primary. I felt like I was getting drilled. And then we talked more about my suicidal plan. Today she wanted to know what I wanted to talk about but I had no clue. We tried to keep it light but it ended up going over to the dark side for a bit. She still insists that I cannot kill myself in the month of August and September. And I am like, the other months are ok? Killing myself in December would be ok? I just don’t know anymore. I don’t even know if I really want to kill myself. I haven’t been in intense pain for the past couple of weeks. We also talked about pain, but she kept referring to psychache and I was talking about my physical. Talk about being on opposite sides. On the other hand I could just kill myself because I can. I am just so torn. If I continue to live, would it be okay for me to do so? I know that might be a silly question, but given on hell bent I am/was on killing myself, wouldn’t I go against my own personal principles? Not like there is a law that says I have to. No one can really order me to kill myself (other than perhaps the voices in my head, which they have done before). Only I can make or break that decision. I guess since I have been feeling a little bit better, the land of the living seems ok, for now. But I also brought up the point that if I am in the throws of a flare up, I would be wishing for death and then feel a betrayal to myself for not following through.

In the midst of this, I have been reading Lincoln’s Melancholy. Lincoln has to be the my most favorite person in the world. I know he lived more than 160 yrs before I was born, before the time of even recognizing mental illness for what it is now. He suffered through I don’t know how many major depressive episodes and somehow got through them without killing himself. He once said during his first presidency, that he would have killed himself but what kind of message would that bring to the southern states? I have always admired him. He is the true staple of what resiliency is.

During our discussion in therapy, I brought up my scars on my wrist. My therapist said that I would get through this time like I have in the past, like my scars tell me. She kept on telling me that was what I wrote. At first I had no idea what she was talking about until I figured out it was this blog she was referring to. I forgot that I sent it to her. My mind is like a sieve. Soon as things filter their way through, I forget I did them. I probably won’t remember half of what I am writing here today. I guess it is a way for my head to get rid of what I am feeling in that moment.

I am eight hundred views shy of reaching ten thousand views. If I reach it before July 18th, that will be awesome. That is the start of my blog. Hard to believe my blog will be a year old. I just got five new followers within the last twenty-four hours. I surpassed two hundred. I would call my blog successful, I guess. But then I don’t know how my blog fairs with say the new AAS blog. I am sure they have more readers than I do, but I do get some filtering in when I post there or when someone reads the “who we are” page. I have fun writing for them.