Tag: suicide ideation

chronic pain is making me hopeless again

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

Chronic pain is making me hopeless again

Last night, my pain was high. I didn’t go to sleep until after 0200. While I was waiting to succumb to sleep, my emotions were dark. I was hopeless and suicidal. I knew there was a chance I would be the same in the morning, however unlikely. I was and it sucked. I was in an irritable mood when my med alarm went off. I didn’t want to wake up. I did a somewhat morning routine, taking my meds, going to the bathroom, brushing my teeth. Then I logged on the laptop and got Office 2016. Fricken annoyed me because it didn’t install the way it “said” it would. Took me 20 minutes to figure out how to install it and where to find the file I saved. Then it took another half hour to install. I just played on my phone.

When it was all said and done, I wanted to go to the Square for a haircut and espresso. I got to the square and check the barber shop to see if it was open and it wasn’t. I was sad. I’ll have to get a haircut later this week. It is going to be wicked cold the rest of the week.

I was at Starbucks and I just sat there, having my breakfast, drinking my espresso, and then writing in my journal. I wanted to go home but I missed the bus. Then my cousin called and he said he would take me to the grocery store. I said okay but I am in the Square. He said he would pick me up. I waited an hour for him. He looked at every woman on the streets, saying she is cute. Isn’t she cute. All the while, I am like, keep your fricken eyes on the road!! We get to the parking lot and he sees another woman pushing her carriage to her car. He pulls up near her. Unreal. We went our separate ways in the store. I got my things and we both finished at the same time. He took me home and I put things away.

I went up to my room and within 20 minutes of resting on my bed, I was flared to the point of crying. I was hopeless again. The pain got worse as I tried to get comfortable while the pain meds kicked in. Then I started to feel nervous, like my heart was racing and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Anxiety attack. I seriously was wondering why the hell I was living in this nightmare of pain every single fucking day. A friend called me and we talked for a bit. He said he might be by later tonight to share a beer. I said okay. He went into a new grocery store in our area and their beer selection was superb. I asked him if they had a certain beer I was looking for the year called Xocovenza, or something like that. It is a Mexican hot chocolate stout made by Stone Brewing. I’ve been wanting to try it. The grocery store had it. WHOOHOO! I thought it was just 1 bottle as stouts are usually like that and go for anywhere from $10-$15 a pop. He said this was like $17. I offered to give him money and he said no, it was on him. I said okay.

I felt a little better by the time I got off the phone with my friend. The meds kicked in and I was more relaxed and my pain lower. My aunt and cousin came over and so I went downstairs to see them. We talked and my aunt complained about my mother’s coffee. I made her my coffee. It was better. I stayed chatting with them until they left. I retreating to my room when my friend called saying he was here. That was fast. We spent a good couple of hours talking about all sorts of things over stouts and burgers. He said that he saw my posts about my pain and he felt bad that he couldn’t make me better. I have known him a long time and he would give the shirt off his back if he could. He is a really good friend of mine. He has always thought of me as a male friend, even before I came out as transgender. I love him and we are close. I told him that the if I don’t get adequate pain control soon, I might end up ending my life. He doesn’t want me to but understands where I am coming from.

I took my night and pain meds late because I was talking with my friend. I hope that I can sleep tonight at a reasonable hour. I didn’t have too much beer. I drank like a quarter of a bottle and then gave the rest to my friend. It was good stuff. I really like it, but not hot. It was a 6 pack, which I was surprised. I put two bottles in the fridge and then gave the rest back to my friend. He liked it as well. I would never drink all of them as I can’t really drink on the meds I take. I will have them on New year’s eve.

Protected: dark thoughts running through my brain

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

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Today’s flare up brought to you by taking off a sock

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

Today’s flare up brought to you by taking off a sock

I was out of the house around 1140. As I was walking to the bus stop, my nephew was coming up the street. He was going to Walgreens. He offered me a ride rather than taking the bus but I said I would wait for the bus. He went and when he came back, I was still waiting for the bus. He really wanted to give me a ride so I took him up on it. It was faster than waiting for the stupid bus.

I went to Starbucks and got an eggnog latte with no nutmeg and a turkey bacon sandwich. The barista added the nutmeg. I was not happy but I drank it anyway. After I was done and wrote for a bit, I decided to go to the bank to make sure my name was right as I had received a letter with my birth name. The said everything was changed over so it might have just been a glitch.

I then went to the Sprint store to change my name. This is the 2nd attempt I made to do this. The first time I called, I was told that I had to change ownership. Then I looked at the website and it said I just needed to bring the legal document to a store and they could change it. I got to the store and the guy was telling me that I needed my changed license to change my name. Are you fucking kidding me?? I was so fucking annoyed. So after I get my name changed at the RMV next week and then get my actual license in about 10 days from then, I will go back to that jerk and have them change my name. What a waste of fucking time.

I had like 3 hours to go before my therapy appt. I rode the trains until it was time for me to get off at the stop to walk to my therapist’s office. It was a good session. I spent a good deal talking about being in the hospital and he wanted to know what was up with my ankle/foot. I explained it best I could and what would happen moving forward, which still looks bleak to me. I was able to move the bone scan to this Thursday. I don’t know how long it takes to interpret the results so I am hoping to have some answers soon or at least know what the treatment is.

Pain wise I was doing okay. On the way home, I stopped at Walgreens to pick up some more Neurontin. Apparently, I still had a bottle from last month that never got used, yet. I’m not worried about it because I am not paying copays at this time so the more I have the better. I plan on getting a refill next month, too, and then I will be set for a few months. I had dinner and then went up to my room. I got undressed to put my PJs on. I took off my socks, and when I took it off on my bad foot, it flared up. So now I am in a LOT of fucking pain because the elastic irritated my foot. I took it off as slow as possible to avoid it but obviously, my ankle/foot didn’t care.

While I was riding the trains, I thought about going back to the hospital, not to torture myself, but to try and see if staying a little longer helps decrease the amount of suicidal feelings I have. I kind of got overloaded last night when I was in a flare and didn’t go to sleep till around 0330. I just wanted to fucking die and started making plans again. Now I am in another damn flare and I want to fucking die. I just used an ice pack on the back of my head and neck to distract me but I am cold so it didn’t stay very long. I got to get up soon to take my night meds. Not looking forward to that.

the hubbub

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

The hubbub

*****WARNING COULD BE TRIGGERING*******

Not sure if anyone of you remember the TV show (US) ER. The actor that played Dr. Green, Anthony Edwards is one of my favorite actors. When he left the show, I kind of stopped watching it because the story lines stunk. Anyways, today he wrote an article on Medium.com about his sexual abuse by a pedophile. He wasn’t the only boy affected by this. His best friend was raped by the guy. He wrote about how pedophiles prey on their victims and often use the word “love” as a way of controlling the victims and their emotions.
It hit a deep nerve, something I have never talked about on here before. I was molested by a family member. Other family members knew this one did this. They warned me about them but they seemed like a nice person so I didn’t heed the warning. Even after they were jailed, I was blamed for the abuse because I was warned and that I should have known better. I was 12 when it started and didn’t end till I was 14, when the advances were more advanced (for lack of a better word). They were 12 years older than me. One day we were on their couch, and somehow we ended up on the floor. They pinned me down and I couldn’t break free. Their genitals were over mine. The only way for me to be free was by saying I loved this person and had to kiss them multiple times and to say it over again. I was really scared because they were at least 250 or more pounds and I was a mere 125. When I was free, we just sat on the couch but they sat close to me and they put their arm around me so it would touch my breast. I kept moving their hand but it didn’t matter.

Another time, we were in their pool and the pool’s ladder had injured their genitals but being a pre-pubescent kid, I didn’t know that. I just knew their groin hurt. After the pool, it was the same deal. They would lock their front door as we “watched” TV, careful to put the chain lock on so there wouldn’t be any interruptions. This time, I was messaging the area. I don’t know how they got me to do it but I did. Turns out after a little while I was messaging their privates while they were in their underwear. My hand was not on the underwear part. I refused to see what I was doing as it felt wrong. When I stopped the message, they continued and when I looked over at them, their privates were out in plain view. This asshole then asked me if I wanted that kind of message on me. I said no but had a few breast strokes and kisses, not intimate. I felt sick once I realized what I had done.

Years later when I accused this person of abuse, they denied it and even their partner denied it because they would have seen the “signs”. Yea, right. It all boiled down that the perpetrator loved me and that was why they did what they did, out of love. I was so sick by this. My mother blamed me because I went to the pedophile’s house a lot of the time. I couldn’t help it. It was better than my home life where I had an abusive father, though I would much rather have my father’s abuse over the pedophile’s. I am glad my father was never told what this pedophile did or they might not be alive today or worse, my father might have said that I deserved it in his narcissistic mind because the pedophile wronged him by “destroying his family”. My father would always blame someone else for his wrongdoings. But that is another issue for another day.

With all the sexual abuse accusations coming at high standing men, whether in politics or Hollywood, it has me triggered into remembering my abuse by the various people that abused me. It wasn’t only the pedophile. I don’t feel free to say who the other family member was, I probably will in therapy but not on this media. I was also raped and abused by an ex-girlfriend. Since then, I have not had a relationship, mostly because of my nerve injury but also because I am afraid of flashbacks.

Lots to talk to my therapist on Monday. I know a lot of women and men are coming out with their story of abuse, which they should. It’s important because it gives others the chance to come forward as well. I am not saying it is easy because when I told one of my therapists about an abuser, that abuser slapped me when I was near them as it was a “false” accusation. I have kept quiet about this for a long time and it’s being stirred up. Abusers don’t like confrontation or being exposed. They will deny it to their dying breath. There is no remorse with them. My ex was kind of remorseful when I talked to her about it but she also played it off. We never became friends as it was impossible. I was hurt too much, though she did reach out a few times. She had more problems than I ever had. But Karma will get these bastards, one way or another. I firmly believe that.