Tag: suicide

Pain and suicide

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, cauda equina syndrome, chronic physical pain, depression, suicidality

I started off my day in pain, around 0400. I hate waking up in pain. I stayed up for a little while and finally gave in to taking pain meds around 0800 when I just couldn’t take it anymore. I texted my therapist and she gave me a time for today. I really need someone to talk to. I feel like I am losing my mind with this loss of sleep. I went back to sleep after I had breakfast and the pain meds kicked in. I had weird dreams about my psychiatrist. We were on a boat and she wanted to give me a cortisone injection in my hip. That was the first dream. The second dream was also on a boat but other than that, I don’t remember much. What was weird, is that when I woke up, my hip was hurting me. I think I need to go back to physical therapy to get it looked at. It has been bothering me for some time now, since November of last year. I sneezed and pulled my back out. It took me a month to recover and then I sneezed again right before Christmas and took it out again. I have been limited in what I can do. Today I walked to Walgreens which is only a block and half from my house. By the end of the block, my hip was in agony and I didn’t think I was going to make it but I pushed through. It got a little better by the time I reached the store. I only went in for a couple of items and by the time I reached home, I was still sore. I haven’t done any lifting or sneezing the past few days so I am not sure why my hip is bothering me so much. I know it’s muscular because if I rub where it hurts, there are knots there. I just hope that it’s not the beginning of getting my nerve condition again. I have no other symptoms, like radiating pain down my leg or increase in loss of my bowels or bladder to make me think I am in trouble. But the thing with CES, Cauda Equina Syndrome, things can escalate quickly and without warning. The main reason I don’t want to make a fuss about it, is that I know most physical therapists don’t understand nerve injuries. Yes, muscle pain is common in back injuries but my back muscles have been injured because of nerve damage. That is why my hip goes out when I have a horrific sneeze attack.

My foot still hurts. It has been hurting more since I came back from the store. I can’t stand that I am still having trouble walking after all this time. Last night, I had swelling, severe pain, and the veins popped out in my foot. I don’t get how this is not CRPS, Complex Regional Pain Syndrome. I know the skin changes are not that drastic. But then when I see a doc, I don’t have the worse pain of my life. I might be a 3-5 on a scale of 1-10 when I see a doc. What annoys me is that my PCP doesn’t believe that I have this condition, even after three doctors have told me I have it. It just makes me want to kill myself in frustration. Severe pain always brings out the suicide part of me, not like it isn’t already there to begin with. The pain just gives me the little push I need to think about it more. I just feel trapped. I know that if I kill myself, more than 115 people will be crushed. The people most devastated will be my family and psychiatric team (therapist and psychiatrist). It is this reason why I haven’t attempted. I think that if I had a place to go to, I might be more willing to try. I don’t want to kill myself at home because I don’t want my family to find me like that. But I can’t afford a hotel room and I can’t risk someone finding me in a public place, like a park or something. I can picture myself going through with any of my methods that are running in my head, but I just don’t have the guts to actually go through with it. I am pathetic.

Letter Writing Part 2

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

Letter writing part 2

Last night, I tried to finish the letter I started for my therapist. I was hoping it would stir up the same feelings as it did before but it didn’t. I guess I wasn’t in the same state of mind. Then I was thinking of typing up the letter I wrote to my therapist the other night, but am afraid that it will trigger the suicidal feelings that I have. The feelings are still kicking around, though they are not as powerful as they were the other night. It’s weird how they can be strong one night and non-existent the next. But as bad as those feeling were, I think my therapist will want to read my letter. I find it best to write a blog and then password protect it so no one else reads it and becomes concerned. I find that is the best way to expedite my letters to her as she doesn’t use email. She may be the last person on the planet that doesn’t use email on a regular basis. And because we don’t meet regularly, it’s hard to hand her stuff. The blog has worked out well as a go between.

I babysat my niece twice today because her father needed to go out. It was kind of good because I got to watch the ball game on the big screen TV they have. My team won so I will be having a shot of Patron later today. I watched the entire game and my foot is throbbing big time. I don’t know why sitting in a seated position causes me so much pain. I even had my foot up for a while but it still didn’t help with the pain. I am reclining now, on my bed, as I am typing this. My ankle still hurts but it’s not as bad as it was when the game ended two hours ago.

I had a BPD chat that I participated in this evening. It went really well and was really fast paced. There must have been 30 or so participants in the chat. At one point, someone got concerned and I think I missed the post. I got lost as I was trying to find out why this person wanted to be direct messaged. I couldn’t find it so I just didn’t respond to the tweet.

I just read that students at the University of Texas want to get rid of the statue of Jefferson Davis. First it was the American flag (all of whom were not born in the US) and now the Texans want to remove the South’s figure? Who the hell do they think they are?? I am for students protesting and not going along with the school but if they hated the statue, why the fuck did they go to that university when there are a million others?? And for the students that wanted to remove the National flag, why the hell did they come to this country?? As the saying goes, if you don’t like our flag, we’ll help you pack!! It just pisses me off. I know my country is falling apart when I see shit like this happen. I mean, I can kind of understand why they would want him gone. He was the president of the Confederacy but Texas is rich in Southern history, especially for the Confederacy. For those that don’t know American history, the Confederacy was the group of states that seceded from the Union during the Civil War. I hope the students DON’T friggen get their way. It’s important for this country to keep its history, however horrible it was.

Cinco de Mayo 2015

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, cauda equina syndrome, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders, suicidality, suicide

Cinco de Mayo 2015

I got my S’mores frappucino with a shot of espresso. I had to have a real caffeine kick. I didn’t think I was going to go out because all the stuff I took for my bowels suddenly worked, all morning, for me. But things settled down after lunch and I was able to go out.

Had therapy and my therapist doesn’t remember reading the blog I sent her last week. The part she did remember was the nest part, which to me is similar to a hope box. She didn’t call it that and said she wanted to have things remind me of how important I am to people and such. It’s hard to do that when I am still in an environment that doesn’t fully support me in my illness. Today, I told her that my mother made me feel bad because I don’t do things “useful” around the house. My mother wanted me to put her breakfast plate in the sink to be “useful” and it made me upset. I don’t get why my mother has to be mean to me. I feel that giving her half of my paycheck every month to cover the bills of the house should let me live here, too. I just don’t get it.

I got really angry today so I posted on Twitter my feelings. A fellow CES sufferer saw a doctor today for her disability claims. He discounted her having CES, Cauda Equina Syndrome, saying she HAD CES, but once you have surgery, you no longer have it. That infuriated me. Infuriate is my word today as I have used it several times. I don’t get how a doctor can say something like that. If she had a stroke, the result would be the same. I just don’t get it. I really don’t and the more this happens, the more I distrust the medical profession. To me, despite their high degree, are all bozos, unless proven otherwise. I have yet to find a doctor that helped me with my ankle. No one wants to believe that I still have nerve damage in it. That the weakness is just from tendonitis. Just pisses me off, big time. So I have to take pain medication to quiet the pain. Normally, tendonitis heals with rest and therapy. I have been resting for three years now and I still have flare ups of pain. And no one can tell me why I am in pain or why my ankle swells up and all the veins in my foot pops out when I am in severe pain. Course, a doctor has yet to see this happen because it only happens in the after hours, late at night with the pain so bad I want to kill myself. It doesn’t flare up during appointment hours or even during an appointment. I am hardly in pain during the day, usually. But after seven in the evening, almost every night, the pain will rise and if I don’t start taking pain meds it becomes out of control. I have been fortunate that lately I have stayed on top of it. I am kind of lucky that I no longer work because if Friday was any indication, I would not be able to walk and stand eight hours a day. I would be in too much pain. Friday I walked more than I should have and paid heavily for it. Only reason I walked too much was because the eyeglass place made my glasses wrong. If the idiot explained to me what he meant by distance, we wouldn’t have had this problem. I still haven’t gotten my glasses back yet. I will call tomorrow and find out when they will be ready. I need them to read Dostoevsky. The glasses I am currently wearing can only go so far and then I start straining my eyes to see with them. It sucks having bad eyesight. I have been wearing glasses since I was in first grade.

My therapist and I talked about the chat that had me upset Sunday night. It’s like, am I smarter than all these clinicians and therapists in this chat when it comes to suicide prevention? I understand they want research and evident based treatment, but the research is there. If I know about it, why don’t they? I don’t get it. I don’t even hold a bachelor’s yet I know what needs to be done for a suicidal patient. Understanding, compassion, empathy, and the client telling his story. Treatment can be DBT based or CBT. I understand not everyone is trained in these modalities. There is a “short” kind of CBT, Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, that seems to help veterans in as little as five sessions. This is from what I have gathered on the internet vines and through the research of Jobes. So why do they not trust these kind of therapies is beyond my understanding. If they are looking to predict a suicide, they will have to wait a really, really long time for that to happen. You can’t predict a suicide anymore than you can predict cancer in a patient. And if this prediction is what they mean by prevention, they don’t understand anything about suicide at all.

Goodbye, Jack

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, chronic physical pain, suicidality, suicide

Goodbye, Jack

Since very early this morning, I have been playing my game like crazy to get as many missions done as possible. Only to find, that it is impossible to finish all the missions. I am going to miss this game. I don’t know what I am going to do tomorrow evening to wind down. I have a busy morning but when I come home, there isn’t going to be a game waiting for me to tend to crops and animals. It is going to be so weird. I still am thinking about getting off of Facebook for a while. I can already see that there is just going to be more bullshit photos of sayings and prayers. I have been slowly unfriending my gamer friends so they are not in my feed and my real friends are there. There is one gamer that has baby goats and like to post their pics. I could care less.

I had an interesting session with my therapist. I told her I was a nobody and for some reason, that triggered her into crying. She said it had to do with my self-regard. I don’t know why she took it personally. It is how I feel, a nothing, a nobody. Then I felt bad that she cried. But then, I have no idea the effect I have on people. It all started when I was telling her I don’t matter and the winner of the writing contest keeps coming up. It just hurts me that I didn’t win or even get a thank you for entering but sorry you didn’t win. I was one of 100 people that entered the contest. Surely they could have sent out sorry letters/emails. I just hate it when she says I contribute and I am wondering what the hell I am contributing to, exactly? It isn’t toward an academic journal or research lab. It isn’t even on the social media presence on Twitter. Hell, I tweet all the time and only 0.01 percent of the time, I get a response. So how am I contributing??

I entered another AAS contest, though I think I am wasting my money. I never win, but if you don’t play, you can’t win so I paid the money for the raffle and I will know June 2nd if I won. It’s an all inclusive package to Chicago for the 2016 annual conference. If I don’t win, I am never entering anymore contests from the AAS. I can’t be wasting money that can be used elsewhere.

My therapist was a real pita today. In addition to making her cry, she was just all in my business. I swear I was going to hang up on her if she told me one more positive thing about myself. I just couldn’t stand it. It’s one thing to hear it from time to time, but the last three days has been overwhelming me. It really is hard for the good stuff to sink in and I felt like she was hammering me with it. I understand that today I was going to end my life but now, I am not. And I really don’t know how I feel about that. Sure, I feel like a failure. But the last few days, I have been thinking about the people that would miss me and if I wasn’t here anymore. My online friends won’t know that I am gone. Who will be there to tell them? If they aren’t friends with my sisters, I doubt the message would go out. And what about Twitter? My sisters don’t know how to use Twitter so there will be a loss there. Just weird thoughts that I have been thinking about lately. And Julie Cerel’s number of 115 affected by one suicide keeps ringing in my head. That is the average number of people that will be affected by someone’s suicide. She doesn’t know where Shneidman got the number six, but it is way more than that. Hell, my mother’s side is just over 60 people, maybe more. My father’s side is smaller, more like 25 tops. And that is just my family, not including my friends, either at work or school or wherever.

My therapist wants me to make a nest. Of what exactly, I am not sure. The things she was naming to put in it sounded more like a hope box than a nest. When I brought that up to her, she was confused, or at least sounded like it. I might have interrupted her train of thought, which was sort of the point. I had told her what my psychiatrist said to me on my last visit to her. She called me, of all the people in her life, her role model. How the hell am I suppose to kill myself knowing these people take me so seriously and lovingly? I don’t know if it is a guilt trip but it sure feels that way. And I guess if they have their way, I am the one that continues to hurt, not them. But their affection towards me keeps me hanging on, even if it is for one more day.