Tag: suicide ideation

Hate

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

I have been stuck on transference of my therapist since I wrote my last blog. I don’t know why, but I just hate her and I don’t want anything to do with her anymore. I want to end therapy. I know I get this way whenever she goes on vacation. The more she is away, the more I don’t want to go back to therapy. Then I feel guilty and try to get back the sessions I canceled. I go back and forth with this until I get settled back in. But this time it’s different. I really don’t want to go back or settle in therapy because I am feeling so much hate towards her. I don’t know where this hate is coming from. I don’t know if it is because she wants me still alive and I don’t want to be or because she went on vacation when I needed her the most. I know that sounds pathetic but it could be that I am hurt by her being gone and I just don’t know what to do but hate her. I don’t even want to talk about it, if only to spare her feelings.

I don’t like this hating my therapist. She technically didn’t do anything wrong. She didn’t disrespect me. She didn’t break any boundaries. All she did was try and save my life. And I can’t help but hate her for it. I feel the same way towards my pdoc. I guess what is really hurting me is that I haven’t expressed this hate towards either of them. I just go with the flow. In my family, if you hate someone, you don’t have anything to do with them ever again. My father has done this to numerous family members. That is why he is alone.

I am very tired as I didn’t sleep well. I woke up around 4, in pain. I took something for it and then went to sleep for a couple of hours. I finally gave up around 0930 when I couldn’t go back to sleep. I went to my father’s after I had my coffee. It was really good today. I don’t know what I did differently, but the flavors of the coffee were really full and rich. I need to get more half and half but it was too hot today to be lugging it in this heat. If I get a chance today, I will get my sister’s car and go to the grocery store. That is the last thing I need to buy. I bought my T-pass for the month so now I am broke. This sucks. But I should be getting my rebate from Sprint soon so that will be good.

What keeps ringing in my mind is an article I read a few years ago about counter-transference hate in relation to suicide. It was co-written by two Harvard University psychiatrists. To my knowledge, there has not been a paper about the patient’s experience of hate towards the therapist or psychiatrist and how it interferes with treatment. Way I feel right now, I just want to quit therapy, for good. I am just so damned pissed.

My pain medication prescription has not come by mail yet. I am almost out of my pain meds and it is creating anxiety for me. I only have the strong pain meds, but am reluctant to take them because 1) they aren’t for regular pain that I experience and 2) they constipate me really bad. I have to pick up my niece soon. I am hoping my therapist calls me because if she doesn’t, that will only make the hate worsen. Course, I do have the laziest mailman on the planet. We usually get the mail around 1 and lately we have been getting it after 1530. We literally never know when the mail is going to show up, if it is at all. This isn’t helping my anxiety around not having pain meds because I have to walk several blocks to pick up my niece. And it’s hotter than hell outside.

Lost

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, depression, mood disorders, suicide, suicide attempt

Lost

Had therapy today. I am glad I don’t have therapy tomorrow. I am glad my therapist is back, don’t get me wrong, it’s just that since coming off my suicidal plan, I feel disconnected with her and I am angry with her because she is keeping me here, if only for her own needs. Least that is what it feels like. I feel lost and trapped in this world and I don’t know what to do in it anymore. I have been trying to write but nothing comes of it so I just blog. It gives me some sense of purpose because maybe it will help someone who is going through the same thing.

I have been following the chat on Twitter for the Tennessee Suicide Prevention Network conference (TSPN15). They had a doctor on that has been dealing with suicidal thoughts for 60 years. He had his first breakdown in medical school and had to drop out. He started Suicide Anonymous and then was surprised by his own relapse. I know the struggle he is facing. I may not have 60 years of it, but I battle through each day as if it was my last, because it could be. I don’t live for tomorrow because tomorrow doesn’t exist. Neither does next week or next month or even next year. To take from my favorite poem, I just have this moment and that is all that matters to me. What I do with it cannot be undone. Sure, I am typing these words and in one keystroke, I can lose them forever, but I choose not to do that. Not today anyways. This is why I always use a word doc to write my blogs because I am afraid of losing what I write on the web app. I have lost too many precious words that way and I refuse to lose my future insights.

My therapist was on a roll. She was talking for at least thirty minutes. I was getting tired of listening to her so I asked if time was up. I usually do this when I get antsy and want the session to end. But no, we still had twenty long minutes to talk. I told her I don’t know if this is effective anymore, that maybe we are just wasting time talking as I just seem to be deeper in a pit than out of it. I always seem to bring in new ideas but they never seem to get anywhere. We will have a “transference” session and I think things will change but next session is always the same. It’s like she forgets what we talk about. I get exasperated and just go with it. I don’t think it’s worth arguing over. I wish I could pinpoint what exactly pisses me off but I can’t. I just feel so awful that I think I am just expecting her to feel awful, too, but she isn’t and I feel more alone. I know she can’t share my feelings because I don’t think she gets depressed. But if she did, I don’t think I would want to know because then I would be her helper and she wouldn’t be mine. She does notice when I discount myself. It drives her crazy as she said so today. I wrote her a huge pile of letters, which I called bullshit. But she hasn’t read them yet so is thinking they are wonderful. I just wish I felt something other than feeling low sometimes. I had a feeling of happiness a little bit today when I found out my “little” cousin had a baby boy yesterday. He came into the world a few weeks early! My “little” cousin is in his 30s. I remember when he was little, he always called the house for us to come down to his Nonna’s to play with him. He is a sweet kid. He has a good wife and I couldn’t be more proud.

The happiness has left just as quickly as it came. It is such a fleeting emotion. It never lasts long with me. I try to hold on to it as long as possible but it takes too much energy. It’s tiring to be something you’re not. So I am back to being my depressed self. Last night, my academic self was in heaven. I finally got access to past journal articles of Suicide and Life Threatening Behavior. I got quite a few articles to read. Reading this stuff makes me a little happy because it could be the key to my own happiness and might just help me understand my moods a little better. I know that if I never found this journal or the works of Jobes, Shneidman, and Holden, I really don’t think I would be alive today. The works of Jobes allowed my therapist and I to explore the inner workings of my suicidality. Shneidman and Holden dealt with the pain and how to recognize the severity of it that could lead to a suicide attempt. I wish that was the case when I was thinking of taking my life on the 17th of July. The date is not significant to me. It is just a day I pulled out of a hat. I wanted to kill myself because I just couldn’t take living anymore. I had enough. I had the date picked at least two months before. This was to give me time to think things over and if I really wanted to kill myself on that day. Like previous times, I sometimes am hopeful on the day I wake up. But if I woke up in a rotten mood, I would have ended it. This time I did wake up in a rotten mood, but only because I was thwarted by going through with my thoughts. I had let my therapist and psychiatrist know of my plans. A dumb thing to do when you are suicidal. I don’t know why I tell them. Maybe it is because I am looking for hope that I just don’t have. There has been times when I have been suicidal outside of my “planned” dates. Those nights have been the hardest to get through. That doctor I was talking about earlier wrote a book about suicide addiction. And that is what it is. And addiction to suicide. You just can’t help but think about it. Though, I really think it has more to do with rumination than being addicted to suicidal thoughts. Because you are always thinking about your plan and ending your life, it leaves no room for thinking about anything else. You want it badly, yet you know there are people in your life that would be crushed if you died. It is always a guilt game that is played. The would be survivors that haul you in for another day of living a life you don’t want to live. And maybe that tomorrow won’t be so painful and depressing. You are always looking for that “high” of being relieved of the pressure on your chest. But it never comes and you just feel lost and alone.

Waking up Depressed

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

Waking up Depressed

There was no weird dream, or any dream, really, that made me feel depressed when I woke up this morning. I don’t know why I feel depressed at this hour. The day hasn’t even started. I was reading about a friend of mine that killed himself a little over six months ago. A friend had written the most beautiful story about him. It was found out that my friend that died, actually did suffer from depression, something I didn’t know. I was never close to him. Just an acquaintance from long ago when our lives were just starting out. We never hung out while we were adults. I never really hung out with him as a young one either. But he was special. I had suffered my depression, in silence and alone. No one knew the depths of my depression. I always tried to keep it hidden from people. It just was not talked about.

My therapist and psychiatrist are probably the only two people on the planet that have seen my horrible, suicidal depressions. I can’t say that I am suicidal right now as I still am trying to wake up. I need breakfast and coffee. Maybe then my depression that I feel right now will lift some. I just feel really down and like the walls are closing in around me. I haven’t seen my therapist in two weeks because she has been on vacation. I see her Tuesday but that day seems so far away from now. I’m starting to feel hopeless that I will ever get “better”. I don’t even know what that means. People always talk about recovery with mental illness, but I have yet to experience it. My mood always seems to go from one extreme to back to my low level depression and stay there. I don’t experience job or happiness. I don’t know what those are anymore. With my disability check this month, I decided to “spoil” myself and get the Harry Potter book collection. I felt I had earned that since I just came out of yet another suicidal depression. I was to kill myself on the 17th of this month. It got foiled because I told my therapist and my psychiatrist I was suicidal. If I didn’t, I probably wouldn’t be here, writing this blog.

My depressions have gotten worse as I get older. They last longer and are deeper than they were when I was younger. I have been suffering from these depressions since I was 15, but probably longer than that. I didn’t receive the help that I need until I was in my teens. That was when I had enough and wanted to die. I still want to die. I can’t imagine living this life yet I just continue to exist. It is a painful existence. It feels like my heart is breaking into a thousand pieces and I don’t know why that is. I just feel really down. I have no interest in doing anything today, even though I have to go pick up my prescription. I am totally out of this medication that I need. I am also out of my vitamin D, but that should come in tomorrow. If I am able to borrow my sister’s car, I will try and go out today, but I can’t make any promises. It’s just a struggle to get dressed and ready to do things outside the house. It is tiring when you already feel like you have no energy or motivation. But I got to do it, even though I feel lousy. Maybe while I am at the pharmacy, I can go food shopping and get my favorite burgers. I haven’t had a burger in a few weeks. It is my favorite food, aside from pizza. BallPark came out with burger patties that are very good and easy to make. I like food that is easy to make as I can’t really cook. I need specific instructions/recipe to cook. I am not like my mother that just puts the oven on and cooks for a half hour and then say the meal is done. She did that the other night to the French fries and fish she was making. It was soggy. I would have cooked it a little more so it was crispy. But then she doesn’t have teeth so need soft things.

I made my coffee and had some left over Chinese food for “breakfast”. I didn’t feel like making eggs so I just had something that was already cooked. Even making the simplest things are hard when you are depressed. I used to love making an egg for breakfast, usually fried or scrabbled, with cheese on toast. But when you think of all that you have to do to make it, put the bread in the toaster, get the butter for the pan, crack the egg, season the egg, etc., it is tiring when you are feeling low. Even my coffee is hard when I am this depressed. I have to measure out the coffee, boil the water, get my favorite mug that I use, put two sugars in the cup. Pour the water after it boils. Wait 4 long minutes for the grounds to brew. I am ready for a nap and I haven’t even done anything strenuous. Lately, coffee hasn’t been doing its magic. It’s more like taking a sedative. I am up for a little while and then I crash and need a nap desperately. I don’t know why that is. And I am drinking quality coffee, Starbucks! It is the only coffee I will drink because it is the one that I can make using my French press.

I am looking forward to my therapist being back this week. I hope she can do her thing that gives me hope so it drives away the hopelessness away. Until then, I guess I will have to suffer through this horrible depression, again, alone.

Left to my Own Devices

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

I am having a late coffee that I hope will keep me up the next few hours. I have been so tired all day that I have been sleeping it away, without medication of any sort! My pain has been minimal but it’s so hot in the house that I rarely leave my room except to eat and use the facilities. Even though I have had coffee, I feel like I can go back to sleep. I haven’t had dinner yet. The coffee is killing whatever hunger pains I may have. So it might be a late dinner tonight. I now have my undivided attention to this blog because I am not expecting my mother to call me. Unless Twitter distracts me…

I decided to type a letter to my therapist today rather than write it. I told her of my day, similar to the first paragraph and also about other things. I had a page written before I knew it. I wish I could write something for my book as fast. I have been going back and forth with editing for my book. I have to enter the edits into the word doc. It’s always a pain because I usually have to use the search button to find the place I am looking for. I have decided the last three blogs are not going into the book. It doesn’t fit with what I am writing, not unless I copy and paste things. I might do that. Then I can go back to writing, least that is what I am hoping. But it doesn’t happen on demand. I think I am better off writing at night because my mood is darker then than during the day. I have three nights before baseball returns. Sox will be on the west coast so the games won’t be until after 2200 east coast time. I hate the west coast games because it just further disrupts my sleeping. I usually can’t sleep right away after the game ends around 0100. And I am up till at least 0300. This is the first time that I am having coffee at like four in the afternoon so I might be up till three anyways.

I miss my therapist, even though it’s only been a week since we last talked. Another week and a half before I talk with her again. I don’t know if she will be in Hawaii the whole time or not. I do hope she has fun, even though she is dreading the trip. I am dreading seeing my pdoc on Friday. I don’t know what kind of mood I will be in. I know I won’t be catching the 10 o’clock bus again. That was too early. I was supposed to catch the 1053 bus but my brain was foggy when I woke up and thought it was the 953 bus I needed to get. There is no 953 bus! I really don’t want to see her. But I am afraid that if I don’t, she will be worried. Hardest thing about being suicidal is trusting a psychiatrist with your thoughts. You always have the fear of being hospitalized against your will once it has been done to you. I have had it happen more than once in my lifetime. I have had more hospitalizations than I can count. In fact, I have lost track of how many I have had. More than 30 by now, at least. It doesn’t make talking about suicide any easier. But my psychiatrist is and has been open to talking about it. She knows me better than anyone. We have worked together for more than twenty years. We have built up a trust that is hard to shake. Most people go through psychiatrists like they were going out of style. I just have had one my whole therapeutic life. Therapists are a different story. I have had more than I care to share. I never thought I would find someone stable in the therapy business. I was seeing on every year for the first 11 years. Now here it is 14 years later and I have the same one. Both of my treaters trust me more than anyone that deals with suicide. I don’t know if it is because they know I won’t go through with my plans or they seem to intervene before it gets too late. I still feel dejected and depressed that I didn’t go through with my plans. If you can’t keep a promise to yourself, what good is making promises? Yet I have also promised these people that if I were in dire straits, I would reach out to them. They also know that I bring myself in when I need to. That has changed because the hospital, for various reasons, is no longer my safe haven it once was. Don’t get me wrong, people need these places for safety. But I used to go there for care that I needed and I no longer get it. It’s just talk for a few minutes and then a few days later, you are out whether you like it or not. I had to fight to stay in last time and it was a real struggle. I also knew that if I was out when I heard about Robin Williams, I would not be talking to you right now. His loss was so devastating to me, as it was to millions of people. But I was in a dark place, darker than I had ever been and if I wasn’t in the hospital, I dread to think what might have happened. Both of my treaters were on vacation at the time so I would be left to my own devices.

I haven’t heard from my writing partner and I have a feeling that those emails are going to be far and in between. She has been posting on various social media so I know she is writing. She has a new book that she just finished before her wedding and is promoting it. I need ways to promote my book because I don’t think it is going to sell very well unless I come up with some good marketing strategies. Problem is, I am not a marketing person! I don’t have the first clue how to sell something. I just hope that Facebook and Twitter works their magic and my book sells. I do belong to some author groups on FB but they mostly advertise romance/erotic novels, which is not my genre. I actually have no idea what my genre is, other than fiction, maybe. But it’s based on my delusions, which is in real life so not sure what category to put my book in.