Tag: therapist

Agitated and Aggravated

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

Agitated and aggravated

I have not been able to settle down since coming home. I feel really agitated and things are unsettled. The voices are loud but they are mumbling so I can’t understand what they are saying so I am frustrated. I have tried listening to some music to calm me down but that hasn’t worked. It just gets me more agitated. I just took some Ativan and some trilafon to try and calm down because I really would like to sleep before my pain shoots off.

I am really annoyed at my therapist. I really didn’t want to have a session with her but she plays this game with me that if I can come up with a good reason, I can skip the session. I never can come up with a good reason as the reason is, I just don’t want to talk with her, which isn’t a good enough reason. I texted her that she might get my voicemail or I might block her call. I am so annoyed. In order to avoid the phone call, I am tempted to get another Zipcar and go out to see her again. Course, if I do have the phone call, I can just put her on mute. I don’t get why this fucking woman drives me insane.

Then the ballgame was a shit show. Price, who is getting paid $30 million, gags in big games so we lost tonight because he gave up the long ball one too many times. That didn’t help my agitation, at all.

Voices are commanding tonight. They want me to pick a bottle and take the whole thing. I hope the trilafon works soon. I hate this uneasiness I am feeling. It’s partly my fault the voices are out of control. I missed my afternoon dose of trilafon because I was driving today. I hate missing doses but it happens. I have to be better about taking the dose. I want to page my psychiatrist but it’s late. She will just tell me to go to the ER and I don’t want to. They will admit me and I don’t want to be admitted. This will pass. I can handle the voices by ignoring them even though I am agitated.

Well, too late to beat the pain in my ankle. It has just started. Fuck. I just took my pain meds so now I have to wait till they kick in. I hate this feeling. I am feeling out of control and yet I am in control. I had something to eat so that made me feel better as I haven’t eaten much all day. Sometimes not eating will cause me to become agitated, too. I know part of the reason I am aggravated is because I am overtired. I didn’t nap when I came home from therapy like I wanted to. Then my groceries came and I had to put them away. By the time that happened, I was so tired I didn’t know if I should eat or sleep. So I did neither.

I am so tired of fighting myself all the time. It’s really tiring. Actually, it’s exhausting, between the voices, the depression, the physical pain, the emotional pain, and then the emotions that go with it. I just want to die. I don’t know when this will happen. I hope that it will happen soon but I just don’t know. There are so many factors that go into it that I am just plain scared of it so I don’t do anything but think about it. I don’t tell anyone what I am thinking because I don’t want to be stopped. I pick dates. I plan a destination. But will I go through with it? I just don’t know.

Terrible Night

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

Terrible night

I just watched, via Twitter, the first presidential debate in my life and it was horrible. I am really afraid of what is going to happen when Trump is not president. I think a civil war might break out or something else. I am very scared of these times.

Pain has come back. My foot is throbbing and burning me. I can’t take another dose of pain meds for another half hour. I am really depressed. On Twitter there was other talk about suicide and talking out about it. It’s kind of bullshit because if you do talk about it on social media, you might get the police at your door the next day. I also found out through the State Police there was a jumper off the Tobin. He is alive and was taken to the hospital. I feel bad for him.

I haven’t heard from my psychiatrist. I guess she hasn’t read my blogs yet. It bothers me that she hasn’t read them. I don’t know why. They are old news now, sort of. I still can’t believe that she gave me a 4 week appointment. I might be gone by the next time I am supposed to see her.

There is so much I want to write about how I am feeling but I am scared someone is going to call the cops on me if I write it. I just feel so low and suicidal. I am tired of living with pain. I can’t go on with this bullshit anymore. Tomorrow I have to go up the hill to get the car. It’s going to be a hike. I don’t know if I will be able to do it but it’s too late now to cancel the reservation. My other car that I have been using isn’t available so I had to go up the street rather than down. I will be wearing my AFO so hopefully there won’t be any problems.

I am nervous about seeing my therapist tomorrow. I know we need to talk about my suicidal stuff but I really don’t want to because she doesn’t listen all the time. She tends to talk too much and then I just shut down. She does this every single time I get suicidal. Then I get mad and we fight. I just don’t know what to do anymore. I just want to die. And I don’t get why she wants me to live. She keeps saying that she can’t imagine a world without me in it. She doesn’t understand how tiring it is to live when you don’t want to. I’m not saying it’s easy to give up because I have tried to kill myself many times and failed. I just want to try one more time and if it doesn’t work, then I will stop trying. If I should succeed, then so be it. It was meant to be.

This talk is what is going on in my head. I know that it will hurt many people in my life. I am not stupid about the pain suicide causes. But living while being in pain is worse. It tears you up like you won’t believe. And there is no relieving this pain, this psychache. There was a time where I kept track of it. I had a scale that I used. But my physical pain overshadows my emotional pain so it’s become useless to me. There are other assessments used for the treatment of suicide but my therapist is a fink and won’t use them. She just want to know the “one thing” that will make me less suicidal and that is all she gets from the forms. Drives me crazy.

Goofy Therapist

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

Goofy therapist

Today’s therapy session was the goofiest I have had in a long time. I started off by calling her goofy and that was it. She was in hysterics for whatever reason. I told her about the dream I had last night where I could “fly” down stairs and while walking. In the same dream, I was getting away from someone as things had gone bad where I was, hence the reason for my flying. I went to a Starbucks that apparently I frequented so much that they wanted to name a drink after me. I woke up before I learned the name of the drink. I had just gone in there with the intention of getting a chili mocha, which I did have today. It was ok except they must have used non-fat milk which I don’t like. It tasted like a water mocha. Gross.

She was telling me how the sauce that I gave her was now gone and we were talking about food for a while in the midst of her trying to analyze this dream. I guess in the entry I wrote about how I was going to make ham and cheddar biscuits and she said that she needs to eat before we talk because I was making her hungry. Goofball, I am telling you. I didn’t tell her what I had for breakfast because I didn’t want her to drool anymore than she already was.

Also in the session with my therapist, once I was able to get her away from my dream analysis, she kind of understood now why my moods change so rapidly when I am in pain. I had started off with a day letter and then I wrote again around 11 pm (2305 to be precise). I wrote how bad the pain was and how much I wanted to end my life. We briefly talked about how much I wanted to end my life but she didn’t want me to, obviously. I kind of got upset at this, but I didn’t let on about it. There was no point because I would be talking to a wall. She gets why I want to kill myself and can see how my mood can change to radically, but she doesn’t want me to end my life over it. Typical. I wanted to tell her that I already had plans to but I just couldn’t. I really want to see the Frida Kahlo exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts first.

After session, I returned my mother’s phone call. She always calls me during session. EVERY SINGLE TIME. Then she gets mad at me because god forbid I should have someone on the other line. She wanted to know if I was going out and I did tell her I planned to. She has been asking me every single day when am I going to the Square because the Family Dollar Store has soap on sale. I went today and there was no such sale. I bought two packages but didn’t tell my mother I paid the regular price. It was only 0.75 cents more.

While at Starbucks, I got two mochas, my chili mocha and a regular iced mocha. I got two in case I didn’t like the chili one. I didn’t like it so I am glad I had the other one to drink. I typed up my story from the other night. I couldn’t believe it was 21 words short of being 850 words! I was really mad at myself because I kind of left off at a cliffhanger. I couldn’t believe I left off at such an ending. I had wanted to write more but it was nearly 330 in the fucking morning so I went to sleep. I didn’t know I left off with such a dramatic stopping of words. I hate writing at night for this reason because once I lose my train of thought, it’s hard to get back into it. I did that with the “Roots” story I wrote. I had started that at the wee hours of the morning, too. So while I was thinking, I texted my therapist and read Twitter. I didn’t turn on the WiFi at Starbucks because it would be too much of a distraction to me. I could put my phone down, but wouldn’t be able to get off the browsers on my laptop. Then I knew I would get lazy and wouldn’t write anymore. After I bitched about being short on words, I went back to my document and wrote about 100 words. Final word count was 961. It’s still not finished yet so I am sure it will be around 1200 or more by the time I done with it. Using the font Comic Sans, I was able to get 2 and half pages of work done. Not bad. It kind of goes along with my other stories in the book so I hope it flows well.

With these 3 pages or so, I think that will bring my page count up to maybe 118 pages. I really want the book to have 200 pages, at least. This doesn’t include any introduction or preface or any other miscellaneous writing. I haven’t sorted out what that will look like yet, or if I really want to have that. In the memoir that I read last week, it had a page that stated this was a book based on her memories and experiences. I might follow that logic in my writing as I didn’t really take these writings from anywhere but my experiences. It’s sort of like a second memoir book that is just stories about my psychotic experiences and delusional thinking. It seems every psychotic/delusional episode I have is different and wild. Sometimes I write about them in my blog when they are over with. Unfortunately, the current delusion hasn’t passed entirely yet.

While I was taking out my laptop to return to my room, I came across a manila envelope that has my father’s health care proxy paperwork in it. I don’t think I need to be carrying that around anymore. Now it’s in my “office” on my bed. I don’t know what to do with it.

I need to get up early tomorrow to see my Neurologist. I need to take a shower tonight because I doubt there will be time in the morning as I am not a morning person. I basically won’t be watching the Sox game tonight as it’s on late. Game is on the west coast. Tomorrow also marks the anniversary of when I published for the New York Times. I just hope I wake up early enough to make coffee because I won’t be going to the Square until maybe the afternoon, after my appointment.

Frustrated and worthless

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

I had therapy today. We talked about my suicidality and the whole burden of being in pain every single day. I told her I just feel frustrated and worthless. I also told her that the voices have been telling me to die. That lead to a conversation about how much trilafon am I taking and I told her I was rationing it because I will run out if I take more than two a day, least until my psychiatrist is back from vacation. She nearly had a stroke when I told her. I don’t really care. I told her she should just dump me and she said no. She wanted my assurance that I wouldn’t kill myself while she was away and I said “yea”. That was all I could muster.

The session took a lot out of me. I pretty much just took my pain meds and slept the rest of the afternoon. Seems to be my new normal now. It was raining fairly heavily for most of the day so I didn’t venture out. My ankle was killing me anyways. I just gave up and let the pain meds take me to Morpheus. I had a dream about my father. We were at the hospital and then he disappeared on me. When I found him, he was sitting next to my mother. Odd. I don’t remember her being at the hospital but anyways, I found him. I was really late for my appointment because of him going missing on me. Then he had to go to the bathroom so I took him. Then I woke up. This has to be the third or fourth dream I have had of my father since he died.

I still am feeling suicidal and my therapist brought up that I should probably go to the hospital if the voices are out of control. She didn’t get that I don’t fucking care anymore. I just want to die and have this so called life over with. I didn’t tell her my plans, though I stupidly admitted I had one. I am glad she is on vacation for the next two weeks. She does want me to write to her in some form while she is gone. Maybe send her a blog or two to read when she comes back. Yea, she will not read it so I am not going to send it. While I was cleaning out my “junk” hamper, I found a notebook that said “Bozo letters” and the date. I might write in that and then when I see her the end of the month, give it to her. I forgot I started it three years ago. I think the intention was to write in the notebook and then mail it to her as I wasn’t seeing her in person at the time. How I would get the notebook back, I never quite worked out.

Sometime this week I need to change my sheets again. And again I have a pile of shit on the corner of my bed. I don’t know how stuff accumulates there. It’s not office stuff. That stuff is near me at all times. It’s just a pile of prescription receipts that need to be shredded and other pieces of mail.

The PT place called this afternoon to remind me I have the appointment on Friday. I had every intention of calling back and canceling but my sleep overtook the afternoon. Now it’s too late and I need to call tomorrow morning. I just hope I am up in the morning. My track record for being up before 10 or 11 hasn’t been good lately. I didn’t even make coffee today, I was so tired. I didn’t go to sleep till around 0400. I just couldn’t sleep last night. Pain was just too bad.