Tag: therapist

random 467

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

Random 467

I am getting hot and cold flashes. Right now I am boiling, probably because my mother turned the heat up as the temp is supposed to drop. I am tempted to turn on the ceiling fan but I might be too cold after a while. I just took the blankets off and that helped.

I am tired and in pain but I am not sleepy. I read a chapter in the Lincoln book and was dismayed to learn that many people were scurrying to write biographies on Lincoln after his death, including his law partner Herndon. He so desperately wanted to write a book that he basically told untrue statements or hearsay. It got me thinking about all that I have read about Lincoln over the years and wonder if any of it is true. A lot of it says the same things so I am thinking some it must be true. But I wasn’t around during the time of Lincoln so who’s to say that anything is right or wrong.

My psychiatrist emailed me tonight, asking how I was doing. I told her how I was and how therapy was just becoming a chore rather than being helpful. I am resenting being in therapy with this idiot. And the sad part is, I don’t think things are going to change. I find it hard to believe that after all her years of training that she can’t help me anymore. It just kills me to know that after 15 years of working together it is coming to a close. I have never been in a long term therapeutic relationship before. It’s easy with my psychiatrist because she just doles out my medication and asks about side effects, as well as how I am doing briefly and then schedules me for another appointment. With therapy, it’s different. And it’s bugging me that I can’t do anything about it because it’s not me that needs changing this time.

I think tomorrow, I am going to play the question game with her. It’s a game I used to play with her when I was bored in therapy. She gets to ask any question and I have to answer it truthfully. There will be one drawback to playing tomorrow, and that is she can’t ask stupid questions that have to do with my suicidality, like “the one thing that will not make me suicidal anymore”. It’s a question that is on the SSF (Suicide Status Form). It has to be a genuine question and not something from a questionnaire. Maybe then we can move on to something important and I won’t feel stuck.

My pain is manageable tonight, for once. I just needed one dose, so far, of pain meds and it seems to be working. I hope my level of pain stays where it is or at least gets lower rather than higher. That would be nice. It’s weird how some days I can tolerate my pain and other days, I want nothing to do with it. I guess it all depends on my patience or maybe my depression levels. It might also have to do with hopelessness, but I am not sure about that. Usually, the pain has to be above my tolerance level for me to become hopeless. My PTSD symptoms are down as well. I am not anxious, thinking something disastrous is happening to my body because of my pain levels. Now if only I can get to sleep, I will be all set.

I have been listening to Taylor Swift for most of the day. I had to shut it off because I couldn’t read after I took the pain meds. It was hard to concentrate and listen to music at the same time. Usually, I can do both but sometimes, when I take pain meds, it interrupts one or the other. I really want to finish this book this week so I can read something else. What that something is, I haven’t figured out yet. It might be a John Grisham book. Like Neil Gaiman’s books, I am collecting his books in my “to read” pile but have not read them. I realized tonight, that I am a book hoarder. I just have to have a book, whether I read it or not. I don’t know why this is. And now because I have a Kindle, I am collecting more books on the thing that I have not read yet. It’s sad. I have to read at least one Neil Gaiman book this month or at least by the end of January because he is coming out with a new book in Feb that I must have. I am hoping to get a signed copy of the book, which means going to a bookstore that I love. I hope to get another book I have been eyeing for a while called “American Philosophy”. It’s a novel that is out of my realm so I think it will be good to read, that is if I ever get the chance to. I need to devote more time to reading than I do but it is so damn hard with being on pain meds and the depression that sucks all the motivation and concentration out of you. I have 5 chapters left in the Lincoln book and I am determined to finish it this week. I hope to anyways. I must.

6th of Dec

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

I went to my “happy” place today and got my espresso with soy milk. I then wrote in my journal for a bit. When the last remaining drops of espresso were drunk, I headed over to Chipotle for dinner. I wasn’t hungry so I got it to go. I thought I had timed the bus right but I didn’t and had to wait twenty minutes. It was cold and windy so I stayed inside the bus depot/shelter. On the way home, I called my mother telling her I had dinner and to eat without me.

I had stinking therapy today and my therapist is the biggest idiot there is. She thought I was going to overdose on my pain medication because they were CNS depressants. I know she isn’t an MD so I can’t completely fault her. Most of the medications I am on are CNS depressants, which is what I was referring to. Even when I clarified, she still thought I was going to take my pain meds. Sorry, as much as I would love to kill myself that way, I love my liver a little too much. The Tylenol in my pain meds would surely wreck my liver before killing me and that is not how I want to go. If I did, I would be buying the 500 count of Tylenol and hope for the best. Idiot.

She then couldn’t find a therapist in my town for me but did find a few in the town over. No shit. If there was a good therapist in my town, I would have found that person by now. She still has this idea of meeting with someone face to face will solve my problems. Don’t get me started on that because this blog would turn into a fucking book on the ridiculousness of that notion.

I have decided that if I get admitted and discharged before my birthday, I am not going to let my therapist know about it. I plan on resuming conversations with her in the new year. Seeing as the hospital is all electronic, I don’t see how they can notify my therapist as she doesn’t have email nor does electronic anything. If they call her, then I am screwed, but I don’t think they will.

Damn, my legs are thawing out. I didn’t think it was that cold out and I had decent jeans on. I picked up the last of my prescriptions so I should be set until January, which I am not looking forward to because I will have to pay copays. My insurance premium is also going up by twenty bucks. Fucking sucks. I got to email my psychiatrist in a little bit to check in with her. I haven’t heard from her all day so I am guessing there isn’t a bed available yet.

I took a shower this morning and aside from going out, that has been all that I have done. I am exhausted like I have worked all day. But I did have an early morning awakening so that doesn’t help. I can’t remember the last time I slept till 0600 at least or past that hour. Seems the only time I am able to do so is if I go to bed at 0300 or later. Pain sucks. I was talking with one of the pharm techs today and she said she wanted to wrap me in bubble wrap. I wish that would help, but it wouldn’t. If it did, I wouldn’t need two pain medications, well actually three if you count the Neurontin. Least the 2 pm pain cycle has stopped, for now. That was a terror I don’t want to relive.

I made friends with my first love again. I am a sucker for her, I really am. I can’t help it. I care very deeply about her and we had been friends before we became lovers so it’s kind of hard to stop being friends. Every time we pick up, it’s like no matter how much time has passed, we pick up where we left off. She has her mental illness issues and medical issues that are worse than mine. I feel bad that I can’t do anything about it just like she can’t do anything about mine. But we are there for each other and that is all that counts.

Incompetence and needs: A story of transference

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

Incompetence and needs: A story of transference

My therapist read my Thanksgiving Eve blog and was basically horrified to find that she is inadequate for my needs. She wanted me, again, to see another therapist that was local as seeing someone in person on a regular basis might be more helpful to me. I nixed the idea because I don’t want to start over with someone new. She said it would be more as an adjunctive way. I don’t give a fuck, I am not setting out to see a new therapist. Then she brought up the whole CBT therapist idea. Nixed that too.

It got me thinking about what I need from my therapist. Frankly I don’t know. We have been struggling with my suicidality for so long that it just goes on without a resolution. It got me thinking about the CAMS philosophy and frankly, even though my therapist has been collaborative, she really hasn’t been. She acts more like a friend than a therapist at times. It has been driving me crazy since she took up the majority of the session with her guilt talk, whether it was directed towards me or her, I am not sure. She feels like she is failing me. Hence her incompetence.

There is more to solving suicidality than filling out the SSF forms. Again she brought up if she only knew how to get me to “open up” and write the answers she needs on the stupid forms, she will feel better. But that is not how it works. The SSF just provides you with problems that need solving so that you don’t end your life. The therapist and client are to work together to solve these issues so that life becomes more tolerable rather than intolerable, a “life worth living”. I’m never going to reach that stage of treatment because maybe I am too stubborn to give up my suicidality long enough to find a life worth living. I just go about my daily business of drinking coffee, writing this blog, taking care of my family and then dealing with a stupid therapist twice a week that drives me absolutely fucking insane with her idiocy.

Maybe we have been together too long and can’t see the forest for the trees. We are wrapped up in something and our path has gone so far astray that we just can meet anymore eye to eye. Maybe we are too close because my heart was really breaking today while she was droning on and on about seeing another therapist and how she was basically failing me. Yes, she is a pain in the ass. She is an idiot, but who isn’t really? I texted her that tomorrow will be our last session. I seriously doubt she will take me seriously. I don’t even know what no therapy will look like. I don’t want to know but what else can I do? Go on with a therapist that hates me on some level for calling her out?

Usually you bring up stuff and it gets dealt with and then you move on from it somehow, someway. A few years ago, we were at this impasse. The same issues were covered today. They haven’t moved on because they haven’t been dealt with. I know what needs to be done but I am just too much of a chicken shit. And there we have the needs piece again. I could list them and they would have NOTHING to do with the list from Shneidman. But I feel insecure and my therapist, even though she won’t admit it, does too. That was evident today and it was killing me inside. It broke my heart.

I know I have called my therapist a lot of names in this blog today, but I still believe she is right for me because we have a connection. Granted right now, that connection is a little frail but we are still tethered. The last time we talk about this, we went over Shneidman’s needs. He had 20 of them and I think I boiled them down to less than 10 that affected me, because part of his theory was that frustrated needs causes suicidal thinking. A lot has happened to me this year, more than any other year to date. Problem is that we just talk about shit in circles and we just go around and around because we are just on this merry-go-round that doesn’t have a stop.

People go to therapy for different reasons. I have a whole slew of them that are basically being neglected and possibly fueling my suicidality. I could list them but if you read my blog or my tweets every day you can probably figure out what the major ones are. I know my therapist can’t do shit about my physical pain, neither can my psychiatrist. I have trauma history, a death in my family that still hasn’t been quite dealt with, PTSD that I don’t think is managed, etc. just to name a few. I read blogs from fellow friends that suffer the same kinds of things that I struggle with yet they are dealing with differently. One of my blog friends has severe PTSD and has anxiety that tears her apart at times. My anxiety, though not a principle symptom, has becoming more of a problem lately because of my damn pain syndrome. It drives me to suicidal thinking. And there is no cut off valve when that level has been reached. So far I have managed but I still plan and strategize my suicidal plan because it comforts me to know I have a way out. I still don’t know what is going to happen this week. I know I have put off my plan but it’s back on again because, why the hell not if my therapist is pulling away from me, even though she says she is not.

In my head, I think I have spoiled my therapist. I bring her treats and indulge in her fantasy that I won’t kill myself. Maybe we both are trapped in that fantasy because I am still here either way you look at it. I have tried to bring her the reality my death will bring and even tried to say if I die, here is the help you need to find. I once brought her an article about it that she refused to read. She doesn’t think I will kill myself. Maybe that is what is keeping me going but it is also draining me to keep up this front week after week. I want to die very badly, to get away from myself because there are so many things I can’t stand about me. Being in pain every single day and night is also taxing me. Knowing the fact that my pain syndrome has changed course on me hasn’t helped matters. All I can do is what the voices tell me to do at the end of the day. So far I have ignored them, but one of these days, I will give in and things will finally be at peace. For me anyways.

Thanksgiving Eve 2016

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

Thanksgiving Eve 2016

I didn’t sleep well again, last night. I woke up before 0330. My check had come in so I bought my groceries and paid some bills. I had to get the groceries before 0400. That is when the computer system is shutdown for 4 hours and I wanted to get a Friday slot. If it wasn’t so early in the morning, I might have baked. I decided to wait until my mother left the house later in the morning. I went back to sleep around 0500 or so. I slept till 0800 and made coffee and breakfast.

While drinking coffee, I waited till my mother left the house before going back to the kitchen. After she left, I made the cake and cleaned up afterwards. My ankle was sore but I didn’t care. I knew I would rest a few hours as I had therapy and then I could go out to get my haircut and espresso.

Therapy was fun. We had transference and counter-transference going on throughout the session. I told her about the blog I wrote yesterday and she wanted to read it. I tried to get out of next week and that wasn’t going to happen. She wanted to do the SSF and I was against it. I told her the only way I would allow it is if she got trained, which she refuses to do. So fuck you to it. She has a brilliant suicide prevention tool at her fingertips that is so damn easy to use and yet refuses to learn how to. I don’t have the patience to teach her. She only cares about two points of the assessment and the rest is laid to waste. No, sorry, I can’t and won’t fill out the damn forms if you aren’t going to use the tool correctly. It’s a waste of paper. I won’t even give her the new forms because it’s just going to sit in a file to collect dust.

It really pisses me off that I go about finding this stuff to help ME out of the darkness and yet it’s all for nothing. I give up trying to bring in new material to her because she is so stubborn in her damn ways to see another avenue that might help not only me, but her other clients as well. I can’t be the only person in her practice who has thought of suicide. Maybe it will take my death for her to learn these things. I don’t know. I’m out of straws and I didn’t draw the short one or the long one.

I really wanted to tell her that I am struggling with my plan and that the bottle of pills I plan on using is getting dangerously close to me using whenever the fuckits hit. I keep picturing myself taking the bottle, not caring that tomorrow is a holiday. I keep telling myself just a few more days but then I think of my psychiatrist and the trust she has in me. It wouldn’t be right to end it and not call her first. But then if I call her, I am scared she will say hospital, whether I want to go or not. I had ample time to tell my therapist these things but I just felt it wasn’t worth talking about because of HER anxiety issues. I swear she needs some Xanax or Ativan but it’s hard to slip her one through the phone. It’s even harder to have these conversations when she just becomes a rambling lunatic after I say the words suicidal plan. So once again, I am left to deal with this shit on my own, like I always have for the past 30 some odd years. I have to laugh when they say “you’re not alone” with depression or when you are suicidal. But the fact of the matter is you truly are, in the heat of the moment, no matter where you are or what time it hits you.

After therapy, I struggled with the damn cover to cover my cake. I bought a disposable pan with a lid. I thought the lid would fit, isn’t that why they sent the damn lid? I tried this way and that and it wouldn’t fucking fit. My mother finally was able to get it to go on. By the time I was finished finagling the sucker, it was time to get dressed and catch the bus. I decided to get my haircut first. There was one person ahead of me so I had to wait. I didn’t mind waiting. This was a good barber that I feel comfortable with. We were talking while he was cutting and next thing I know it’s close to 1600. I was there for more than an hour and I still didn’t get my espresso. I had some time before the next bus so decided to get it. There was hardly any seats so I just got my drink and left to wait for the next bus. I was waiting for my mother to call me any minute asking what was for dinner but she didn’t call until I was close to home. She didn’t say anything about dinner and just asked if I could help her clean the kitchen. I knew I should have gone to the pizza place for two slices. Now I had to order food.

I ordered a burrito and something else. What that something was I have no idea. It was a fried chicken finger in a fried something and didn’t taste good. The burrito was good except it didn’t have sour cream and guacamole like I ordered. After I ate, I helped my mother with the kitchen. I washed stuff and dried them. Then my ankle was really starting to act up so I took a shower before it exploded. I didn’t finish washing the pans. I need to take another pain pill and relax a bit before doing that. By the sounds of the kitchen, it looks like my mother is doing the last three pans I left. So I can just relax now while my ankle explodes.