With thy mighty pen, I slay thee

With thy mighty pen I slay thee

This is what I feel like right now, that someone has slayed me and I don’t know why. Just no reason. No explanation. I am just gone from a website.

I just finished looking at my introduction to my book. It says all that it needs to say and more. I hope my book becomes more noticeable than that website, though I doubt it. It further ingrates in me that I am insignificant in this world. That I don’t matter. My feelings don’t matter and obviously, my words don’t matter.

But what does matter is my book. It will be great, I hope. And maybe it will be listed on the other website but I don’t think I want it to be. I am too hurt right now to think of going that far. It will be listed on other, better websites.

If I had any gall, I wouldn’t wait till March to put this book out there. I think this book is good even with the editing that I have done but the ending is weak. It needs some thing good. I am working on it. I hope that my depression goes away for a day so I can write something hopeful and meaningful. I have miles to go before I sleep, isn’t that how the saying goes?

this is me swallowing my pride

I worked on my book and I think that it is a good book. It might not make the New York Times list but as long as it sells 100 copies I will be happy.

I have been in a disgruntled mood. My therapist never got back to me because of her commitments yesterday. I just wish she could have texted me something so I wasn’t hanging all day. I am not having so many flashback symptoms but I think that has more to do with not being in a lot of pain today. I have been experiencing more side effects from the Abilify than anything. I have to take Ativan to deal with it. And it makes me feel sluggish and sleepy. But as long as it takes away this rubber band feeling, I don’t care. I can’t lower my dose because the psychosis will come back, and quickly like it did before. I also don’t want to be in the hospital for Christmas. I haven’t called my psychiatrist yet. I am hoping they will settle down some so I won’t have to. Not much she can do about it anyways other than tell me to take Ativan. If that doesn’t work, I am sure I can take benedryl to help. I have the need to be snowed anyways. I have been in an awful frame of mind and my stupid therapist wants to activate Mr. Hyde. WTF, really?? My suicidality has been on an all time low and you want to activate the demons? I was toying with her today about it. But it’s not going to happen. I can’t risk taking my life for no reason. I have an appointment with her all this week to make up for Monday I guess. And next week she is trying to get me to open up about the personal reason why I need the 17th off.

I need the 17th off so that I can think. It is going to be a very depressing day for me. And I want to spend it alone, without having therapy. I think I am going to finish drinking the rest of my crown royal bottle. I think alcohol will go nicely with the end of thinking of suicide, but no one has to know about it. I don’t want anyone to know the real reason. My therapist doesn’t read my blogs unless I send them to her. So I am safe.

I have no idea if what I wrote makes any sense. Please leave comments if you think this is a good idea or if I should see my therapist on the day that I am not going to be thinking of ending my life anymore.

I don’t know what this blog is going to be like after I set this into motion. I know there will be blogs where I talk about death. It is the nature of this beast called pain. And of course the first song from my “Just Taylor” playlist is “back to December”. “so this is me swallowing my pride…”

an example of Mr. Hyde

I have a serious mental illness that wants me to claim my life. I hear voices that taunt everything I do but I have never been violent towards another person and god help me, hope I never will. I just want to kill myself because I am a sorry excuse for a human being. I don’t blame my parents or my siblings for the way I turned out. It just happens to be who I am, I may not accept it but it is who I am. I know that someday I will ultimately end my life by my own hand. I know because I think about it every day. But I will NOT take another person’s life other than my own. Do I need to have a lifetime commitment because I am so suicidal? Probably but insurance companies don’t see it that way. As long as you are not in “imminent” danger to harm yourself or others, you cannot be allowed to stay in the hospital for more than a few days time, against your will. I have been there many times and even though I have chronic suicidality, I have never been kept beyond the three days or two weeks because of my suicidality. I might have been kept because the voices were telling me to harm myself, but never because I said I was suicidal after the three days. The mental health system is wrong and should be address these issues I am stating. Because maybe a longer admission is what I need to get better. I have intense psychotherapy with my therapist twice sometimes three times a week and still feel suicidal. I have been on every drug used for psychiatry and yet I still feel suicidal. How am I to live my life when I want to end it so much? How am I supposed to work and go to college when thinking about my death is all that matters to me? No hospital can change it. No psychiatrist can and no psychotherapist can. So the blame then gets shifted on to me. It’s my fault for not “wanting” to get better, that my negative attitude/emotions are what is causing me to be suicidal. If I change my attitude, I will be happier. It’s all bullshit. It’s not my fault being this way anymore than it’s a dying person with cancer fault because they have cancer. And believe me, I would much rather trade places with them because I know they are going to die while this “emotional cancer” is eating me alive and no one can see it. And no one wants to help me either. I can only save myself if I want to. Well, I give up. I don’t want to anymore. What purpose will living my life that I know is only going to end up six feet under. I have thought about cremation but the cost is the same. I thought about buying my own plot somewhere but I really don’t care what my family does with my remains. They are of no use to me anymore. So I am giving myself some time before I do it. And hopefully within this time frame things will change. Because if they don’t I am dead and there is nothing anyone can do to stop me.

on my soapbox

Productive day

I had a productive day. I have been up since six and then went on a caffeine high. That was fun seeing my psychiatrist when I was all racy and talkative. My mood has been up and down all week and I have finally been able to spend some time on my book. I just have seventeen pages to go, which I probably will either do tonight or tomorrow. I haven’t decided. I just read one bleak, downhearted blog entry that I included in the book and it brought my high down. I couldn’t/can’t believe how down I really was. Not to say that I haven’t been down all week but still. My writing was very touching to me and I am the author! I don’t know if I should keep it though. In the book, I made several mentions of my upcoming suicidal plan and also of my plan that I had back in August. But as my therapist calls me, I am a planner. I just am not a do-er. Which sucks for me because I have to continue living this crap every day. I guess it’s good that once I write the dark stuff I don’t think about it as much anymore.

My psychiatrist answered an email I sent her from Monday. I told her that I could no longer “live like this anymore” because I got my menses (which thankfully have gone away!) We talked a little bit about doing something about the transgender issues but I am just not ready to go ahead with it as much as my therapist wants me to. I think she gets it but I still don’t think she (pdoc) knows just how much I want to kill myself because I am in the wrong body. I read about my struggles today in my book and it just killed me. Knowing that I can’t go ahead because of my family and being forced to stay in the wrong body. I just feel like a transvestite because I wear men’s clothes. That is what I am. Whatever you want to call me, it hurts. It causes a huge whole in my heart that can never be filled up.

On another note, I belong to a CRPS support kind of group on Facebook. In one of their posts, they listed oil of wintergreen to help with joint pain. At this stage, I am willing to try anything to ease my ankle pain that throbs me night and day, day and night. Well I bought the stuff from VitaminShoppe but it was the wrong kind. I bought the aroma therapy version and not the application version. Who the hell knew there were different kinds! Now I have to plan a day to go to Harvard Sq and return the bottle. I feel stupid. The bottle didn’t have instructions on it, which I thought kind of weird. I am just glad that I didn’t use it as it probably would have irritated my skin. It should have said that on the website and I would have bought another kind.

Last night I made Nutella cookies for the first time. Now it turns out that I have some kind of allergy to nuts. I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and then the Nutella cookies and my stomach got wicked bloated. I just had another cookie to see if it was the peanut butter or the hazelnut and I am hurting. DAMMIT! I love these two nuts. I hope this doesn’t include all nuts because I will be pissed! I am going to miss having a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. *sad face*

On yet another note, I got an tweet from Medscape Psychiatry today about how a single question can lead to a suicide risk. I read the article and low and behold, if someone is thinking about dying nearly every day it is a risk factor for death by suicide or suicide attempt! Really??? I want to tweet one of the authors and scream DUH!!! One of the authors is actually a tweet follower of mine. But what is sad is that there were 709 suicide attempts and 46 death by suicides that could have been avoided had someone CARED to ask more about their feelings. It’s like being asked do you have heart disease or high cholesterol in your family and NOT being tested for it, in my opinion! That is just negligence. And another sad thing is that the questionnaire used was the same one used by Jobes to help initiate his CAMS framework and SSF (see this blog for more info). Just kills me that people are so afraid of death that they can’t deal with people talking about it so people have to kill themselves because no one fucking cares they are hurting. And you don’t need a whole fucking questionnaire to find out if someone is suicidal. Just ask! 9 out 10 times they will say yes. The one person will probably just end up denying it because of being labeled crazy. But the important thing is to be open about it. Ok I am off my soapbox, for now…