bad few days

Bad few days

Since Saturday, I have been having back pain. I didn’t do anything as I just woke up with it. The barometric pressure has been up and down like a yo-yo and temps have been crazy as well. I know once it levels off, I should be ok. In the meantime, it is hard to move and walk. Sitting is also difficult.

My mood has sucked all week. I have been having intense suicidal urges upon awakening and throughout the day. I sent my psychiatrist the post I posted on Monday. She said it was complex. I also sent the blog to my pcp’s social worker but have not heard back from her. I just feel like I don’t want any help right now. But my psych wants to know what I am up to and things because my suicidality has peaked. She also is not letting me be. Last Friday, she wanted me to call her midweek and if I didn’t, she would call me. Yesterday, she called me after I told her I wasn’t going to call her. I had gotten into an argument with my sisters and didn’t want to speak to anyone, much less her. I just don’t see the point. I am better off alone to deal with my stuff. I somehow get through it, though this time seems to be harder than it has been in the past. I kind of do but don’t want help. I don’t want help because I don’t think it will actually help me. I think it will just frustrate me yet the ingrained sense of “reaching out” when feeling this way is hard to resist. My psychiatrist has told me that if I feel like acting, I am to call her first. That kind of defeats the whole purpose of trying to act on my feelings. God I am so confused.

Last night, it was determined that my leather chair will be removed. I paid $300 for that chair. I thought about getting rid of my uncle’s desk but now I don’t want to. Fuck my sister for wanting to get rid of my things. She has threatened me that if she cleans my room and I don’t keep it clean she will “kill me”. On the other hand, if she does try, I will break her hands. My other sister wants me to get rid of books that I haven’t used in a long time. It is my books that I spent good money for. They aren’t getting rid of or placed in the basement to get musty or worse, ruined. I had books down there and they got ruined once. I am not going to do that again.

Because of my pain, I haven’t been able to do anything to clear my room or the boxes downstairs. Now they want to me to pack the stuff in my bedroom, to put in the living room. Where the fuck this stuff is to go, I have no clue. Fucking the office stuff is taking up a good portion of the living room already. I am just so stressed out and don’t even want to do a damn thing. Also I heard my sister tell my mother that I go out and have coffee but don’t clear my things. I only go out for coffee if I have my a damn appointment. That has been the only time I leave the house! So according to her, I am to be housebound just to clear boxes and clean my room?? I am so sick of this shit. They really think that my pain is no reason why I shouldn’t clear stuff. That I must be faking my disability. Next week I am getting paid and I am so fucking tempted NOT to give a cent to my mother. Maybe then they will get a fucking clue that I live here, too. Because right now, I feel like I can’t have anything in this house except my bedroom. And I will be damned to give half of my social security check just to be locked up in it!

Well, this is the stress I am dealing with which hasn’t helped my pain at all. I need to stop right now because I need to lay down. I can no longer sit. Hope the Tylenol and Ibuprofen help my back pain.

thoughts of the midnight demon

Thoughts of the midnight demon

“I haven’t slept all night as I have been in a lot of pain between my back (low pressure changes) and my ankle/foot. I am sharing with you something I have been sort of keeping from you because of fear of hosp.

Been in a quandary about what you said and what I talked about with a social worker friend. she thinks I should be evaluated. Parts of me agree but the one question, I cannot answer is the “why now…what has changed?” Frankly I don’t know. I wanted to end my life March 29th. I made the decision sometime in January. Since that time I held off for a week because the weather interfered with my plan. I have every thing worked out except the small details of where to leave my benefits pension information, banks, passwords to different accts, etc.

A few nights of despair with pain and psychache caused my plan to be more imminent. I couldn’t stand to reach my means to end my life so when I was “well”, I moved it closer. When I emailed you last night, I was so overwhelmed because I had planned, again, to end things this weekend. I’ve always had a plan and the means to carry it out. I don’t know why I haven’t acted. I know I don’t want to do it in my room. I rather be at some deserted place, which I have picked out but weather has been a factor in me getting there.

I still do not think hospital is the answer. It will not help except to babysit me and maybe give me more time to think things through or maybe work through the hard stuff and see where it leads me, but it is doubtful as the hospital just thinks this is an outpt issue (aka longer term) and once my level of safety is down, I will be released even if my “risk” factors are high.

Maybe Dr. Goldstein’s SW will be able to help me in the short term. I don’t know. I am scared to tell anyone but those I trust deeply (you). When I asked you Friday and you told me why you wanted me to live it gave me some hope to live again. Least for a day and a half. I do have plans for a book. But if I don’t get past these suicidal disturbances (I can send you a paper on it if you like), I don’t see the point in any of it. I am also ambivalent about asking for help because I have been rejected so many times or just have no received the care to reduce my internal struggle. I know this will not be an overnight thing. I know it is not a medication thing either (though I wish it were).

I honestly don’t know what to do. part of me wants to roll the dice and see if I die. Another part wants to attempt so maybe the hospital will take me more “seriously”. Walking in voluntarily hasn’t seemed to help much. I rather avoid the hospital all together and just do something else but not sure what that is.

these are my thoughts. I won’t tell you what my means are or where I am planning on ending things. Just know they are there and within reach. I have no method of planning a date. Any Friday will do, just so I can fuck with the suicide statistics.”

This is what I sent my psychiatrist. I felt she had to know because I sent her an email last night and she called me within ten minutes asking if she should send an ambulance to my house. She is worried about me, to say the least. I am so ambivalent about doing the acting part of taking my life. I don’t have to do it. That part is clear. But I want to do it so the thoughts will leave me, so that I can say I did it and then well, if I succeed then fine. If I don’t, I will be indeed a failure and I will accept the consequences. I have not chosen a very lethal means. I don’t have a gun and I don’t plan on hanging myself. But what I have chosen might end up killing me if I hit the right spot. The more I think about it the more I want to do it. It is like a nagging thing inside my head. I feel like I have two things on each side of my shoulders like in cartoons, one is like a good part and the other a bad part. Each one seems to talk louder than the other and I still survive the hellish nights of wanting to die so damn bad.

I know my means needs to go to someone else, for now. Not indefinitely. I know I should talk with someone who isn’t afraid of suicide and will hear me out when I am suicidal without resorting to hospitalization when I bring it up. I also will not abide by “suicide contracts” basically I am safe until next session without a clear plan on what to do in the meantime. If a safety plan or crisis response plan is not implemented and I am held accountable to actually do it (fuck I am wicked bad at my suggestions and following through because I know best type of thing. I am also bad at giving advice and not listening to it when it involves me). I would like a therapist that is willing to work with me on specific skills to decrease my suicidality like DBT or CBT, brief. But that involves that they actually know how to treat someone who is chronically suicidal or at least, knows chronic suicidal ideations. Otherwise, what good is either of them. CAMS is good (my opinion, the gold standard) but there are very few, if at all, therapists in the Boston area that have this type of training, least to my knowledge. There was a therapist in Cambridge that had the type of training best suited to me but unfortunately the bitch never had the courtesy of calling me back.

I have been up all night. I will most likely sleep all day. I am tempted to send this to my pcp’s social worker and see what she has to say. I will send her the link, maybe. I am very selective on who I let in on my suicidal world.

For those reading this, I am safe. I am not going to kill myself this week. I currently don’t have a specific plan in mind at the moment. So do me a favor and not call the police on me because you read this and said “omg suicidal, call the cops”.

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Free falling with no safety net

Free falling with no safety net

I didn’t think I would write a post today. I had been working on my office, going through my stuff, throwing away, recycling, or giving to goodwill. I was hurting but it was bearable. I didn’t eat much all day. I really have no appetite. I had a protein bar at like 3 am and didn’t eat again till twelve hours later. I made a custard pie that took forever because my oven sucks. I had a slice of that. It was so good.

Right now my right heel and my left metatarsals are competing as to who is going to hurt more. Right now my left is (the CRPS one). I am having so many symptoms of CRPS right now that I doubt I will sleep even though I am exhausted.

I was talking to my mother about my desk. She doesn’t want to get rid of it. FFS. My sisters and I had agreed to toss it because it is much to large and heavy to move. It is too big for my bedroom. And there would be no point if they end up tearing my rug out. I think the floor is rotten and needs to be done because there have been spots that have some up through the rug and we aren’t sure why. It might be mold. I know the drywall where my headboard is needs to be redone because the bubbling has spread. Whether or not that is due to mold, I have no clue. I don’t understand why it wasn’t addressed when I wasn’t moved in and it could have been replaced. But my room had just been painted and I think they didn’t want to mess with it. I don’t know. I just go along with things.

My aunt had come over and between her and my mother calling me my birth name and “she”, it set off my gender dysphoria. My boobs still feel really heavy. I know I am losing weight because I have no appetite. I can’t wait till next week when I can order my chicken patties and fish. I won’t be able to place my order until Wed, though I am not sure I will be able to as I need to pay off my cell phone in full on Monday, which doesn’t leave me with much afterwards. My full check on Wed will need to go toward all my bills.

I am listening to Celine Dion. I bought a few songs of hers that I haven’t listened to in a while. Seems Amazon has a knock off version of her songs and I foolishly bought 4 and then had to buy the correct 4. Damn assholes. I hate iTunes worse so I will stick with Amazon for now.

Left foot has gone berserk. I thought I had the phone far enough away but I didn’t. It is now buzzing intensely from the sound waves. I just took a melatonin to help me sleep. I hope it overrides the exhaustion to make me sleep. Tomorrow is my father’s birthday. He would have been 87. My sisters and I plan on going to the track. I really don’t want to as I don’t gamble (I have no clue how to bet on horses). I rather just have a family dinner. I was overruled. I don’t seem to have a say for anything anymore. I feel like I don’t matter to my family at all. Just adds gas to the suicidal fire. Last night, I wrote another suicide note. I think I took a pic of it and posted it on Twitter, not knowing if anyone can read my scribble. It was handwritten. I have been trying all day not to think about my dark side and now, with the pain, it is so hard to fight it. I might as well give in. I am not worth anything. As my chemistry teacher told me long ago, we are just a bag of chemicals. That is all we are.