frustrated on so many levels

Frustrated on so many levels

I saw the therapist today. I was really nervous about it because I didn’t have a voice. First part was of her reading all that transpired since I last saw her, which was last Monday. In there, I had mentioned I was suicidal and she asked if I was safe. I hate that fucking word when it comes with being suicidal. I never know if I am truly safe. If it was put in the how likely am I going to act or something, the answer might be a little different. Each time I get the urges, the situation is different so I have different levels of coping with it. It might be some grounding, music, distraction, going through social media and getting support there, or just maybe sitting with whatever I am feeling to get through the moment. I have recently just stared at a wall while letting the feelings hit me, one after the other and I try not to think in those moments, which is hard to do. Some times I can write but lately I seemed to have lost my words (mostly due to being reported on my feelings) that I cannot express myself, not even in my journal. The words are there, I just can’t seem to put them in cohesive sentences. This is the MOST frustrating thing because writing used to be my escape and because of vigilantes, my escape has been hindered.

I left aggravated and angry. I was looking for her to offer something to appease the suicidologist in me but nothing was forthcoming. I don’t know if she was looking for me to have some sort of plan (I have many, some good and some not so good) or what. Her biggest thing was for me to be “safe” whatever that meant. While I was home reflecting on this, I basically realized I have four choices: 1) go to ED of some sort; 2) call my psych, no matter what hour as I most likely will be in real danger at this point; 3) stew with the feelings as mentioned above; 4) act on my feelings/thoughts/urges. I have a straight forward plan so as long as I can walk (presuming physical pain isn’t the driver of the suicidal escape), the plan can be executed with no one much the wiser.

The ONE thing no one understands about suicidality is the need to escape from the pain (physical and mental or either/or in my case). It is also true that if I have an angry row with a family member that has me feeling unworthy, useless, lazy, etc., my thoughts of escape increase because I feelings of being trapped are heighted and I will think of suicide as my only choice in the matter. I honestly have no way of conveying this and having a “treatment” for it. Yes, I can bring up CAMS (my preferred way of dealing with my suicidal feelings) but my therapist doesn’t even know what the fuck it is, and from the sound of it, is not up to the latest suicide prevention stuff. Honestly, I don’t know who is as there is a LOT of information out there.

The therapist also wondering if being that the institution I was at was good for me as I have so much anger at it right now as it got rid of my psych. I think part of this is mostly likely the grief of her not being there and right now I am in the anger stage of that grief. The frustrating fucking thing right now is that because of my voice being fucked up, crying hurts so I am unable to process it with a good cry. Even as I am typing this and letting some tears out my throat is starting to hurt in a big way. I think once I have this cry, I can possibly moved on. My psych is still there for me; she hasn’t left. I just haven’t been able to see her as she doesn’t have a new home yet. I am still her patient because she has said so and I believe her. If anything, I think she fears me leaving her more than I fear her leaving me. If that makes sense.

I am utterly exhausted right now, mentally and physically. My throat is fatigues and hurts from the twenty minutes or so that I spent talking to the therapist. I honestly don’t want to talk to anyone, unless it is in written form, for the rest of the day. The only thing I have eaten today is a donut and a coffee cake. That seems to be the only thing I want today. I may have the last breakfast burrito (if there is one) that is in the freezer later but chances of that happening are low. I might have to make some more tomorrow after my groceries are delivered. It is nice to have some pre-made food that I like that I can zap in the microwave for a few minutes and have a meal.

I don’t have any plans for tonight. I might read Harry Potter or just be on social media. I would like a nap but that has yet to happen. I just seem to lay down and my pain decides to act up. My foot is already acting up with the ceiling fan going. Airwaves are annoying it. I really shouldn’t have listened to the meditation thing the therapist had me listen to. It started off by thinking of the feet and how they feel and such. Both feet were killing me so it was hard to “let go” of the feelings and shit. Then that was the only thing I could focus on. When they moved up to the abdomen I started feeling hypervigilant of someone barging through the door and had to stop it. At least we tried it. I knew it wasn’t going to work as I have done similar shit while inpatient and it is always a trigger for me.

I had written in the notes I wrote for the therapist to update her that I was thinking of getting ginger gummies and just sitting somewhere to eat them. By the time I came home, the plan was set. I figured out the location and all the how, what, when, where, and why. I have the four choices listed above on which one to choose when those urges arise. I will be left to my own devices and the choice really is mine to make. No one can stop me, no one needs to know, and no one will be there when the decision will be made. I am on a precipice. Question is, do I have a hand (figuratively) to hold me back…

I’ve decided that I won’t tell anyone about my suicidal thoughts. Might mention them here but just the thoughts. No one seems to want to hear them anyway.

thoughts on my blog, input needed

Thoughts on my blog

I have been discharged from the hospital. I am paranoid that I am being monitored by someone at the hospital on what I write. I am not 100% positive of this because my stats views have gone back down to there regular numbers. Either way, it got me thinking about how to proceed.

For those that read my blog every day, I would like your input. You can give it to me via my contact page or if you want to leave a comment, that is fine too. If you are a close friend and follow me on other social media, feel free to contact me there as well. I am thinking of password protecting my blogs going forward but want my readers to read them. It would be the same password (unless I feel that it contains information that I only want some people to read. These posts would most likely be of suicidal nature that I don’t want to freak someone out and call the cops on me.)

Let me know how you feel about this. I know that my readership will most likely be down, but I need to do this because I still want this to be my outlet for my frustrated feelings, anger, and depressed thoughts as well as my suicidality, which is why I created this blog in the first place. I know I could just write some where else these “toxic” feelings but it is hard as this has been my source of support and some of it does help people in knowing they are not alone with chronic pain and depression and suicidal thoughts/feelings.

I have protected my posts on Twitter. I am not sure anyone can see them anymore. I know that people that follow me cannot retweet what I write. I really hated doing this but it will only be for a short while when I think I will be free from being monitored. I am really upset over this intrusion of my venting and it being used against me, like there are only nurses at this particular hospital and none of the other hospitals in and around Boston. This is how narrow minded this doctor was and he had the gall to call me a “Trumpian”. This angered me so damn much I had a breakdown after our meeting. I couldn’t stop crying because I was so angry and frustrated. One of the nice mental health workers came into my room to talk to me. She didn’t know exactly what was going on but tried to reassure me this didn’t affect future care at the hospital. I think it is so stupid. I emailed my psychiatrist, who probably just blew it off as me venting steam. I am not sure if the doctor emailed my psychiatrist and told her what I was writing. I would have filed a complaint but usually that doesn’t get anything changed. He was one of the higher ups so my complaint would most likely be thrown in the trash and my record possibly flagged as not to be admitted anymore at that hospital, which is fine with me.

The day before discharge, I had a meeting with my sister and social worker via the phone. OMG it was so fucking terrible. My sister basically verbally abused me. I won’t repeat what was said. I just felt like no matter how much I tried to tell her how much pain I was in and how I needed to recover afterwards, she didn’t hear me at all. She wanted me to go through my stuff while I was recovering from my appointments or anything else that caused my pain to keep me up all night and just stay in bed. I felt so horrible after the meeting which was the same day I was spoke to about my blog. I was just waiting for number three incident to complete the three’s. Thankfully it never happened. I was in so much pain though from being emotionally tapped out. Since I have been home, I have not seen my sister. She asked my mother if I was home but did not come to my room to even say hi to me and her voice toward my mother was kind of testy, like I didn’t belong here at all. I swear she is just like my bastard father. She called me selfish but that is just a projection. The social worker really understood what I go through at home. During the phone call, I wanted to hang up so fucking bad. I wanted to talk to my sister about her use of pronouns but I didn’t think it would be worthwhile. I had an agenda but it totally backfired as I just had to go through my stuff no matter what or how I feel. I really feel unwanted.

So for those reading along, please let me know if you would be willing to read my blogs that are password protected or if you just want me to write like I have been even though it might ruffle some feathers at the stupid hospital I was at.

Protected: Staring at the barrel of a gun

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Protected: When the cubic model of suicide is 5

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