A Good Sunday

A good Sunday

It was my niece’s birthday party. She turns 21 on Tuesday but we had the party today. It was fun and I finally got to see my little cousin who is nine months old. My cousin’s girlfriend kept posting pictures of her and I was afraid I wasn’t going to see her until she had turned one as I don’t visit too often because of my pain levels. My pain wasn’t too bad today but after sitting for an hour or so, I needed to taking something for my leg pain.

Last night I video chatted with a dear friend of mine. It was fun. We talked for about an hour or so before her daughter needed a shower. Her daughter has autism needed help with showering. I was sort of multitasking because another friend of mine was texting me at the same time we were chatting after the shower. It was weird texting on my phone and then having a chat on my laptop.

Just killed a damn fruit fly that was buzzing in my room. I don’t know where the hell they come from as I don’t have any food in my room. Just pisses me off. I hate bugs!

I’m going to watch Schindler’s List tonight. I haven’t watch this movie since high school. It’s a very moving movie. I hope to god nothing like it occurs again. There was a Twitter account on Holocaust Remembrance Day that listed the names of about 600 or 900 people that came to the US as refugees in 1939. They were turned away from the US and were killed by the Nazis in their various camps. This account also listed the photo of the person, if it was available. I just find it really sad that the US did that to those people and are now doing it to Muslims. Of course, the Middle East countries that Trump has business connections to are excluded. Just pathetic.

I told my psychiatrist about my fear about changing my name and using gender dysphoria as a reason for my name change. She said I was being paranoid. I told her I didn’t want to be on some list later on that “hunted” me down for my TG issues. That part she kind of understood better. If there were better people in the high government, I might have gone forward in my transition this year but I am too scared to now. But it doesn’t matter because in a few weeks, I shall hopefully not exist anymore.

I texted my therapist and told her our next meeting will be our last. There will be no need to have three or four sessions as termination sessions because I just can’t go through with it. It’s too hard as it is to have a session with her without breaking down. We have tried to make this work for the past year and we just can’t. She won’t change her ways and it’s detrimental to my progress. Plain and simple, though on my blog it’s easier said than how it feels. My psychiatrist and a good friend want me to see someone else but I refuse for right now. I’m still trying to wrap my head around what went wrong so I don’t make the same mistakes with the new therapist, if I can find one. And besides, this blog has been more therapeutic to me than therapy so there’s that bonus.

Pain O’clock our has struck. My toes feel like they are being pounded on like a xylophone. I wonder what time I will get to bed tonight. Just really sucks because I was having a good day up until now. Now my night is filled with pain and I hope that I can control it. Or we’re going to have problems.

therapy disaster

Therapy disaster

I had therapy this afternoon. I’m still quite upset about it. I wasn’t sure how it was going to go. I was hoping for the best but it didn’t work out. All I did was cry at the realization that we were going to at some point, terminate. She couldn’t say the word and I couldn’t think of it. She still wanted to be some kind of adjunctive therapy just so she could have her fix of me, to keep her in the loop of what is going on and such.

All the while I kept thinking, why is this happening? I asked her why we couldn’t do weekly sessions and she said she’d just go back to her “old ways”. I don’t care if it meant having someone to talk to regularly. Right now I have NO ONE! And it’s not a good place to be in.

Then I thought fuck it. I plan on ending my life soon and then who the fuck gives a shit about her. I have no crisis response plan in place because she isn’t my therapist anymore. I only have my psychiatrist. I had emailed her about what happened and she asked me if she plans on calling future therapists. I don’t care and went off a tirade of basically fuck this and that. I don’t fucking care anymore. It’s done. It’s over. I don’t want to see her anymore and I am not. I will have one last session with the bozo (therapist) and that will be that. Her schedule will be too damn packed to see me again so I don’t have to worry about another damn session.

I cried for about an hour after session and still the tears are flowing. I have been trying to control them but it makes me so damn sad. My therapist told me she still loves me and cares about me. I think that just made things worse. I know she was crying during the session, too. I was so choked with emotion, I could barely talk. And when I did talk, I was choking back tears trying to be heard. I kept on trying to think of what it was my psychiatrist wanted to ask her but my mind went blank. I did ask her about the blogs and she said it was important that I wrote and shared them. Yea, so important that it broke us up.

I don’t know where I am heading with this, if it’s going anywhere. I am really depressed. Nothing I wanted to do today got done. I was just a lazy bastard. If I take a shower tonight, that will be a miracle. If not, my psychiatrist will have to deal with my stink when I see her tomorrow. I am sure she smelled worse though.

up early in the morning

Up early in the morning

I woke up around 0028 and I am still up. I just can’t seem to settle down. Then my eyeball got really itchy. I thought I was going to scratch it out. I put in some eye drops and that seems to have done the trick. I think I got more drops on my face than in my eye, but that’s ok. I always do.

I am in a terrible frame of mind. I want to email my psychiatrist and tell her that Friday will be our last meeting and that I won’t see her anymore. I know that if I do that, she will likely become concerned and I might have to go in the hospital, involuntarily. I don’t know what to do. I am meeting with my therapist today, in less than 12 hours from now. I can’t let her know what my plans are because we are on the fritz. I don’t think she has earned that right to know my business anymore, including my suicidal thoughts. What is she going to do anyways when I can’t see her anymore? I doubt I will be able to see her next week. Her schedule is too “packed”.

I haven’t heard back from my psychologist friend on Twitter. I will give him a few days to help me, not that it really matters that much. If I don’t go through with my plans, at least I will have someone to call. Therapist #15 awaits me somewhere. I hope it’s worthwhile this time around.

When I was checking my messages when I got up, I had a FB message from my friend that really pissed me off. I told her not to send me those types of messages. And to think before sending. It really upset me because she knows I went to bed, yet still continued to ramble. WTF.

I don’t know why I feel so shitty (mentally). I slept for approximately two hours, but I have been sleeping all day. Now I am up and want to go back to sleep but I am feeling really hot. I am debating putting on my ceiling fan. I don’t know why it’s so hot in my room. It’s not that cold outside. I have been having hot and cold flashes through out the day. I don’t know why. That is the million dollar question.

I am really nervous to talk to my therapist after not speaking to her for about two weeks. It feels longer than that. I am going to bring up the fact that our meetings should be reconsidered and that this monthly business is ridiculous. I also want to understand why my blogs “pushed” her away. I thought therapy was a place to share your feelings, good or bad, and to learn from them. All I have learned was that sharing is a big mistake. I feel like I am being punished for speaking my mind. I won’t ever share a blog with a therapist ever again. That tool that I thought was a good idea has backfired on me and now I lost a therapist in the process. It all just sucks big time. I never would have thought that after 16 years or working with someone, it would be over because of a transference issue. I always thought transference was a good thing in therapy. Guess I was wrong.

a little of this, a little of that about chronic pain and suicide

A little of this, a little of that about chronic pain and suicide

I don’t know where my blog is heading anymore. I tend to write more about my chronic pain than of anything else. And why not, it is always there, aching, throbbing away like no tomorrow. I am sick of it. Both my ankle and foot were competing as to who was going to hurt more and my foot won the contest. The three metatarsals (bones in the foot) that always bother me, are feeling like they are being crushed though there is no external pressure being applied whatsoever. I want to cry. I want to cut my ankle off.

I am depressed. Have been all day. I had texted my therapist asking if there was a time next week that would be suitable for us to talk and she responded that it didn’t look good. I am astounded that her schedule is so full. Used to be that we met three times a week. Now I can’t even have one? I am hurt. I just want to tell her forget it. It doesn’t matter to me anymore. I am going to end up killing myself either way so what would a session do? It’s not going to prolong my life. She has no clue what I have been planning mostly because she hasn’t been around. She decided that we needed to meet monthly. Not me. I didn’t have any say in the matter. Now I can’t get a bloody appointment to convince her otherwise. Fuck her and her stupid schedule.

I meet with my psychiatrist tomorrow. We are supposedly going to come up with a “plan” on how to go on without a therapist. Can’t wait to see what she thinks. I am in a terrible mood right now so forgive me if I go off on a suicidal tangent. I am going to tell her that it’s useless. In fact, I don’t know why she is even treating me as I am a hopeless case. There is no point. I have made up my mind and within a few weeks, I will be gone. I hope to be gone anyway. If I had a more lethal means, such as a gun, then I know I would be gone but I don’t have a firearm. Though if I did, I don’t think I could wait a few weeks.

Pain has driven me to this. I couldn’t even bear weight on my foot as I went downstairs to the bathroom. I tried to stay off the bad metatarsals but going up the stairs, that was hard to do. I didn’t want to spend a half hour going up each step one at a time so I painfully went up the stairs like a “normal” person. I just hope this pain is gone by tomorrow because I need to go out. I don’t think cancelling on my psychiatrist is going to fly, even though I think the appointment is hopeless and pointless. She gave me plenty of refills on my meds so I am good for the next month or two. Not that it matters. I don’t even know why I bother to continue to take my meds. I guess if I don’t, I might become more impulsively suicidal. Right now I can wait. Throw in some agonizing despair and that might change. I guess my meds are keeping that from happening. And I know what happens when I don’t take the trileptal regularly. I am off my fucking rocker.

I do have some what adequate pain control, but that isn’t the point of me wanting to kill myself. The fact that I HAVE to take meds to control my pain is the issue. I shouldn’t be in pain. There is nothing physically wrong with my ankle or foot as determined by X-rays and MRIs. Hell, it even looks normal. I don’t get the discoloration you typically see with CRPS. Yet supposedly, this is what I have. It has to be some kind of pain syndrome. I know the pain isn’t in my head. Or maybe it is. I don’t know anymore. I just know that I am in pain and I need pills around the clock to control it. And soon as the dose wears off, I am in agony again until I pop one or two pills. Then the waiting game begins as to how long it will take for the pain to stop. Sometimes, a couple hours after I take my regular pain pills, the pain will intensify. This is all while I sit comfortably in my bed. No stress being made on it. No bear weight on it. No movement, though sometimes I flex my big toe and all hell breaks loose. So then I have to take the strong pain pill because I can’t take the regular pain pill as I just took it. It’s a fun game that I am so tired of playing. Then my bowels are all screwed up from this strong pain pill.

If I was a “normal” person, sure taking a laxative or some other method to go move my bowels would be fine. But not with someone with Cauda Equina Syndrome. Hard stools and a sensitive rectum/anus is bad news. Nerve pain happens when you finally are able to move your hard bowels. It’s so painful, you just wish you would die on the spot. Then sitting is intolerable. Nerve pain goes on any where from one hour to many. And this is not mentioning the trouble of pushing the stools out because your system just doesn’t have the mobility to do so on its own. You feel like you are in labor trying to push a rabbit pellet out. And that is all you push out. Sometimes it is more than that, but I won’t go into details about it. It just hurts, more than your damn foot. It leaves you exhausted like you have done manual labor. You need to rest from all the pushing and the pain. Fun times. NOT.