Spent the day catching up on my TiVo. I was running out of room and want to make sure I can record the CMA’s next week.
So today was supposed to be the day I ended my life. Like I suspected, it was just another day in the life of Midnight demons haunting me but without the impulse to take my life. Watching my favorite shows kind of helped. I really have not been watching much tv except for baseball or football games. Also been listening to the new music by Casey James and Jason Aldean. I don’t know why but my music has veered toward male vocalists. I guess it’s mostly because there hasn’t been any new female artist that I like lately. Don’t really think too much of Taylor’s new CD, Red. Songs aren’t resonating with me and when songs don’t resonate with me I tend not to enjoy listening to music too much. Plus her music on this CD is very different than her previous albums.
I haven’t texted my therapist the past few days. There is nothing really that I want to convey to her. I know I should just to check in but I just don’t feel like bothering.
I got a new software program to help my typing. I figure while I am on the computer anyways I might put it to good use. Maybe it will help decrease the time I spend hitting the backspace button .
It’s after 9pm EST and my pain levels have just peaked. My ankle feels like it is going to break. I feel so bloated I think I am the meatball I just ate, and I just feel like I am a worthless POS. My therapist has accused me of not taking my meds because my mood has been so awful. She still tries to get me to see my psychiatrist but she hasn’t responded to any of my emails so I can’t say that I haven’t tried. I have been taking my meds even though they probably aren’t doing much to really help me. I have decreased my pain meds even though I probably shouldn’t. I just don’t see the point of taking it unless the pain is unbearable. Like it is right now. It is not at the suicidal point but I am uncomfortable and in agony. I just test my limits of my pain threshold. The hard part is that the threshold varies. Right now my pain is an 8 on a scale of 1-10. And the nerve pain (burning has begun and it feels like my foot is sooo hot but is cool to the touch. But it could be a 6 tomorrow and I will be ok with dealing my pain. I sometimes don’t even notice the pain, that is how used to it I am. It usually registers above a 6. There is no reason for it, but today I have been up and down the stairs a lot today. I had groceries delivered so I had to. Then I had to stay on my feet and put them away. I knew I would pay for it.
Tomorrow I am supposed to go out with a friend for brunch. I haven’t seen him since I was first out on disability in April. I know it will be good to go out with him. I am kind of looking forward to it but I have been so depressed I sometimes don’t want to get out of bed just to go to the bathroom. It takes a lot of “spoons” to get ready. I have no idea what I am going to wear and it always causes me anxiety whenever I have to go out. I just can’t make a simple decision on what to wear. It kills me to just look at my clothes and just stand there and be indecisive. I hate it. I need to shower and take care of my personal hygiene that I have not been so great at doing the past few days. I figure if I am not going to go out, why bother.
I have been trying for the past week to change my bedding. I even got new sheets to try and today it took all the energy I had just to take my “office” off my bed so I could get to my sheets. By my office I mean literally my laptop, notebook, journal, research articles, notepads, mail, and whatever clothes that I just happened to put on the side of the bed I don’t sleep on. I keep these things handy because I never know when the urge to write is going to hit me and I am particular when I have some paper I want to write on when it hits. I have yellow legal pads and white composition notebooks. Sometimes the color matters sometimes it doesn’t. I just need it handy because if I have a running train of thoughts I want a pad of paper and pen handy. I keep a box of pens on my nightstand because I like pens. I must have over $1000 USD worth of pens. I have pens of every color, style, ink quality, you name it. Lately my pen of choice is Uniball Jetstream. I love this pen. It is so smooth when you write with it. It doesn’t smear and supposedly it prevents check fraud. I rarely write out checks anymore but I do write a lot with these pens. My other favorite pen that I like is the Pilot V ball. Those pens do smear but I like the scratching noise it makes on paper. But I rarely use this pen since finding the Jetstream. I have been so crazy with this pen I have at least 2 dozen pens and even bought refills for my pens. And I keep buying more. If I leave the house without a pen, I will buy it. Even if I don’t write with it, I have to have a pen. So far the only store that sells my pen is CVS. Walgreens stopped stocking it .
Thank you for reading this ramble.
Tag: suicide
my mentor
This blog is about my mentor, David Jobes. He is a suicidologist at the Catholic University of America. I have been following his work since 2006 when I first learn of him through my research on a paper I was writing for psych assessments. I found that his suicide status form (SSF) was an awesome tool that is not widely used but should be. He has done research in the field for over 15 years. I have taken his workshop when he came to Boston in 2008 and I met his graduate students. He is a phenomenal person that really cares about suicidal people and the prevention of suicide. His book, Managing Suicidal Risk is groundbreaking work and I truly believe every clinician should read this book or at least have a copy of it.
If I ever get my independent study underway, I would have a raffle on this book and his other one, Building a Therapeutic Alliance to a clinician that responded to my research questions. I would be asking clinicians about their suicide training and if they would be interested in being more educated in this area. Not only about what empirical data is out there but also about the assessments. Most clinicians rely on their interviewing skills alone on detecting suicidal ideation but very few would actually treat it or use an assessment to help decrease the thinking. That is the beauty of the Suicide Status Form. It assesses, manages, creates a treatment plan, and provides documentation all in one.
black dog
The black dog seems to be rearing its ugly head around the same time every night for the past four weeks. I have been so down that I just have not made it in to see my psychiatrist. Not much she can do for me anyways. It’s not like she can put me in a cast and tell me I will be better in 6-8 weeks. I have been on every medication out there and nothing seems to help me. I just want to give up. The feelings of hopelessness are strong. I can’t seem to shake the worthlessness I feel nearly every day and the self hate that goes with it.
The other night I found an old script written in 2009 in my journal for an AFO (Ankle Foot Orthotic). Seems if I had gotten that PT order in, I might not be disabled today and out of work. I have no one to blame but myself for being too lazy to see that I needed an AFO sooner rather than later. I really loath myself and all that I do. I just can’t help thinking that I am the saddest human on the planet. There is no hope for me. I try to give it for other people, hoping my story will inspire some. I just don’t want to be anymore. Living is just too hard. It hurts every day in some form or other. I can’t get over feeling so horrible day in and day out. I wish that I could just pass away in my sleep. Things would be easier that way.
There is a question on the ballot for passing a law for assisted suicide. The supposed pharmacist says that 100 seconal tablets would be enough for some one to die. And “they call that dying with dignity”. I say that it is. I will say yes to question 2 because I believe that everyone has a right to die the way they want rather than to have their cards played the way they are supposed to. Why should someone with Alzheimer’s or ALS (Lou Gehrig’s disease) be allowed to die a slow and painful death knowing there is no cure for them. I just don’t understand how people can allow other people to suffer and yet euthanize a cat or dog so they “don’t suffer anymore”. Why is it more humane to kill an animal over a human being? I just don’t understand it. Why is dying with some sense of faculty so difficult for people to understand? I know that people who think about suicide are not really rational, but I have been suicidal for so long, I have to wonder whether I have become rational in my thinking. I can justify taking my life because I do not want to suffer anymore. I can’t bare to breath at times. Taking in a breath hurts like a person with asthma struggles to breath during an attack. I have to force air in my lungs when I don’t want to. I feel so dead inside. I swear my brain just doesn’t know that I am dead so it just keeps on functioning the way that it supposed to. I feel like I am on life support with no one able to pull the plug but me. But the plug is out of reach…
a fictional story
Started out as an idea then blossomed into a plan. He knows that killing himself was the only way out. Thoughts of doom and gloom were perpetually haunting him night and day for the past month. He hasn’t been able to shake the black dog for weeks. The loss of sleep, appetite, loss of interest in things that used to be pleasurable has been growing. Most days he just stays in bed praying for death to end his suffering. He has tried to shake it off and do the things that give him pleasure but the pain of living has been too great. No matter what he does to try and distract himself, the pain comes on in the early evening, drowning everything that means anything to him. Every night at the same time the midnight demons come out and the suicidal impulses and thoughts become overwhelmingly powerful. He just decided within the next week to put his plan into action. He no longer can take the heartache, pain and restlessness every night. Nothing helps the sorrow or the pain. Duloxetine was supposed to help. It did for a few weeks but now he is so enveloped all he can think about is his way out.
The hotel room has been reserved. What better place than by the place of his former employment. The chemicals have been purchased. A bottle of each in the bathtub should be sufficient. Hotel bathrooms are not that big. The thrill of putting this plan into action fills him with joy. He does think of how much he will suffer. After all, choking on chlorine gas can’t be pleasant. But hopefully it will be faster than pills.
The week has finally come. Soon as his check comes in he will rent the room that will be his death chamber. He can hardly wait to do this. The tension of all the years of suffering has finally ceased to be. He has been cheerful around people, putting on the act of someone who doesn’t have a care in the world. No one knows of his plan, that is the beauty of it. No one suspects. He is tired of seeking help and this time he will become a statistic that will be a suicide. He will join the 30, 000 plus that commits suicide every year. The only obstacle he needs to overcome is his therapist’s safety plan. He has never lied in his life but this time his one lie is a big one. If successful, he will be gone, if not he still will be among the millions of people that suffer from depression.
midnightdemons7 
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