Tag: therapist

awful session with therapist

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, depression, mood disorders, suicide, suicide attempt

It came! My World Series cap finally arrived today. I hope it would have lifted this awful mood I am in but it hasn’t.

I don’t know where to begin. I had an awful session with my therapist last night. She was asking what to do with her anxiety and how it could be put to rest. I said valium is the answer. She said that wouldn’t make me less suicidal. True but she could zone out about it. I am joking here. I know suicide is not a joking matter but this is my blog and I will say what I want. She talked about how her anxiety revolves around my safety and she just doesn’t think I am safe anymore so how can she simply ignore that when I keep talking about putting a rope around my neck. And that is not to accessorize. (ok, another bad joke.) I think she should consult with someone. I really think that SHE needs someone to talk to about my case. Maybe they could help her. I know you can’t go alone when you are dealing with someone and their suicidality. That goes for client and therapists. I will tell her this on Tuesday when I see her. Or just send her this blog so she reads it and maybe it sticks in her head a little bit better.

I don’t know why I am in such a rotten mood. I guess because I made my therapist cry and I feel bad about that. Another indication that we are too close. I so very badly want to cancel Tuesday’s appointment but I have no where to go that day. Monday I see my psychiatrist. I don’t know how much of this I am going to tell her. We (therapist and I) talked about the hospital but what good will it do me. They don’t have you talk about stuff when you are there. They make you fill out a distress tolerance bullshit form. Like that is really going to help in times of wanting to put a fist through the wall. I don’t feel like doing that. I do feel like finishing off my bottle of whiskey. What would it hurt? Except for writing more “truth serum” blogs? I guess I am feeling hurt because that is really the only time I want to drink. Listening to Lady Antebellum is helping. They have made some their song acoustic and it is really cool. I need music right now to right this wrong I feel that I have done.

No one in my family knows about this. I haven’t talked to anyone. I wrote a friend an email asking what do I do but I haven’t heard back from her yet. It might be a few days till I hear back from her. She is the slowest person to respond to email because she is so busy. So I wait.

Other than a blogger friend, I really have no one to talk to about this kind of stuff. But I am just not in the mood for talking right now. Today is my sister’s birthday and I am supposed to go to her party in about four hours from now. I really don’t feel like it. I just want to stay in my warm bed and hide under the covers. I forgot to get her a birthday card but then I think that birthday cards are stupid. All anyone cares about is what is inside. They don’t care what the card says. And they are more expensive now than they were in the past. Some as much as four fricken dollars? For something someone glances at and then junks? Seems ridiculous to me and a waste of money.

I have eaten only small meals today. I am starting to get hungry but I don’t feel like eating. I hate that. I just don’t know what I want. I kind of want Pad Thai but I think I will get that Monday when I see my pdoc as the restaurant is around the corner and it is a late appointment. Even if I wanted to go into the hospital I can’t. Not until I see my PCP for my monthly pain check visit. He is another one that wants me to call him if I feel like acting on something. What is he really going to do I have no clue. Not like I am really going to call him anyways. I have a crazy, lunatic therapist and my pdoc to call first.

exhaustion, pain, and therapy

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, mood disorders, suicide

As my mother would say, I did nothing at all today to warrant feeling utterly exhausted. What she didn’t know is that I woke up three times during the night because of pain and had to take my pain medication each time I woke up. She doesn’t get that I don’t sleep at night, ever. It is a rare event now to get at least 6 straight hours of sleep at night. I have been managing only 3-4 so far for the past week. It’s only seven o’clock and I feel like I have been up all day even though I did get up at noon, a half hour before my therapy session. I made breakfast even though my ankle was killing me. It started last night when I got home from the party and hasn’t really let up. Today I got a compression sleeve for the ankle and put it on. It really helped with pain control. I have had it on for a couple of hours and had to take it off because the material was annoying me. Now the pain is returning. You can wear the compression sleeve for 24 hrs but I don’t want my skin to get annoyed with me. Because my foot/ankle is nerve damage, even socks annoy me after a length of time.

I really want to take a nap but then I will be up in a few hours and won’t sleep through the night. It is a vicious cycle.

I talked with my therapist today. She read both my blogs on my rant about her and my transgender. She really wants me to see this transgender doctor at the LGBTQ health center in town. But I told her I can’t. We were supposed to get back to the other blog, where we come up with something different than how she is handling my suicidal crisis and I suggested that she have her doctor prescribe her valium. I was sort of half joking/being serious. I don’t know what is going to ease her anxiety about me being in a suicidal crisis. I just know that it is interfering with me telling her what I need to tell her. I remember a time where I could tell her my plans and she might not agree with them and I know she certainly didn’t want me to go through with them but she listened to it. Now it’s literally like she panics soon as I get another hair brained idea to kill myself. Oh and I wanted tomorrow off just so I could sleep in. You would have thought I was trying to steal the Hope diamond. SHE went berserk on that plan so I countered with a session for Thursday. She is like the mother hen from psycho land or something. She always wants to know what I am doing. My own mother could care less what I am doing and where I am going.

So the reason I bring this up is to try and think of a way in my exhausted state to tell my therapist she really needs valium or another way of handling me. But what does that look like? I am not her so I can’t just tell her to fuck off, I mean I can but it’s not going to get me anywhere. How am I supposed to get her to calm down? And why am I the one to think of these things?? Shouldn’t therapists already know how to handle shit? It’s not like I am confessing a gruesome murder or something. Well, maybe. In a sense I am telling her how I am completing my own murder of self. But it’s not like I am chopping off my head and body parts. Though right now the only body part I would LOVE to chop off would be my ankle. I got to seriously think about this one because I don’t know what to do. I generally like to be on my own about this stuff and she doesn’t want me to be alone. Maybe that is what she should do, leave me alone and let me tell her whatever it is that is running through my rabbit brained mind. I know the chance of me acting on such thoughts are small. But thinking those thoughts give me a release that helps me get through the darkness. But as we were talking about today, if I don’t talk about the dark thoughts, if I keep them inside without anyone hearing them, Then Mr. Hyde is going to come out and start with the suicide notes, and this time it might be more people out there than just my blog can reach.

it doesn’t take too much to be overwhelmed

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, depression, mood disorders, suicide, suicide attempt

****WARNING MIGHT BE TRIGGERING****

I didn’t mean to start off the day like this, I don’t think anyone does. But I am feeling miserable and when I am miserable I write. This darkness has invaded my soul. I am no longer a good person but just an empty shell off what was, if that makes sense. I haven’t had coffee and wouldn’t you know it, I forgot to order cream with my groceries? Figures. Guess no coffee today, unless I go to Walgreens and buy it when I pick up my prescription. I also need a case of water. I need to try and keep myself hydrated which I have not been too successful at, if my lips are any indication. My lips are wicked dry and chapped, like a desert. I never made my chamomile tea last night. I got too sleepy and wanted to stay in my nice cozy bed. I will have to change the sheets after I take a shower. It is going to suck as I hate changing sheets but if I smell, I know my sheets do, too. I don’t know why everything has to be a struggle. I am struggling to stay alive. Struggling to do normal living activities. It is just so overwhelming. I hate being overwhelmed. But then, it doesn’t take much to become overwhelmed.

I had my therapy session tonight with my pain in the ass therapist. It’s funny but today I was reminded that even though we have been working together for years and years she still fricken panics whenever I get into a suicidal state. It’s like the blog I wrote a few months ago, Mentioning of suicide, therapist panics. Instead of asking me what my story was that went behind my suicidal reasoning, she didn’t want to hear it. She just wanted to listen to my reasons for living, my reasons for dying, and what I was going to do to get me through the next four days until we talked again. It is the SAME THING every single time. Nothing changes. I can hear the panic in her voice soon as I divulge my plan. It’s like she cannot tolerate listening to it. I don’t know why it is. It makes me feel better talking about it. But she doesn’t want to hear it so I don’t speak of it. I keep it inside and I think that is where Mr. Hyde is born. Mr. Hyde is my suicidal part that like to come out and write suicidal notes.

Tonight I was reminded that my therapist is not Aeschi in the least because I scare her. I don’t mean to scare her. That is not my intention. But my suicidality freaks her out. I only have a voice here on my blog to talk about my suicidal plans and thoughts and feelings. You would think, that a therapist office would be the place to divulge this information but it is not. It freaks them out too much. Maybe that is why there are so many suicides. The talking about suicide doesn’t get talked about so the client feels more alone than they already feel. I think that if I was a therapist, I would want to know my client’s thinking about suicide and why he wanted to throw himself out the window. Maybe in talking about it, there would be some underlying thought process that could be explored and then, maybe the feelings wouldn’t be so intense. But my therapist doesn’t want to hear about it. She wants to know where it hurts but not really. It is too scary for her. Where it hurts is where I want to put the rope around my neck. Where it hurts is where I am hopefully dangling out my bedroom window. I want to know what it feels like to lose the oxygen to my brain and lose consciousness permanently. But no one wants to hear that part. She just wants to know that if I want to act, I will call her first or someone else or go to the ER. Those places will not help me. They do not want to hear my story. They do not want to hear my plan or know of my pain. They will just hear that I am suicidal and should be in a safe place for a few days and hopefully in those few days I won’t be suicidal anymore, like it’s a magic cure. They do not want to know the depth of my sadness, the depth of my pain, the depth of my intolerable despair that has come upon me with its unrelenting hold around my throat. I am being suffocated. And no one can see it. No one can bare it. So I say what is expected of me and move on to another session where the same things go on. I am not saying my therapist is a failure. She is not. She is just a person who panics with the mention of suicide like the rest of the world.

Rambling 45

by Midnight Demon, posted in Chronic pain, depression, mood disorders, suicide

I have been trying to collect my thoughts to write this blog while listening to my “mood” playlist and keep getting distracted by the songs.

Last night I wrote my therapist a letter. I think I will write one for each day that she is gone. It is some thing that we do. I can’t explain it but sometimes something good comes from it. I have some deep thoughts or something that I want to talk about. Sometimes it is just a bitch letter because I don’t have someone to talk to about something that is going on. I have notice in my old journals, I would write with the beginning of a letter. Each entry started with her name Dear A. and the later journal entries start with Dear Bozo. I started calling her Bozo to piss her off and maybe she would dump me. Six years later, she still has me so it didn’t work. I still call her Bozo. Her middle name starts with a B anyway so rather than call her that name, I call her Bozo. I am such a prankster. I once got a sticky and placed Bozo on her sign in her office where A should have been. She had no clue for three days!! That was and still is hysterical.

I found a clinical paper last night going through my files so I posted it as a blog. It’s about schizoaffective disorder and I think I wrote it for one of my psych classes.

I had the BEST homemade iced coffee today. I am so JACKED right now on it. I am really feeling hyper from it. My brain neurons are firing left and right. I like it when I feel this way. I am able to get a lot of writing done. I am sure that I will probably crash in an hour but this is kind of fun. I already did my shopping. Now I am just waiting for the mail to come to see if my doc sent out the prescription for my pain meds. I have only a few to get me through the next few days.

I have been up since 0800. I woke up and I couldn’t go back to sleep. I don’t know why. But it gave me enough energy this morning to go food shopping. Tonight I will have PF chang’s general Chang. I love their food. I wish I could have gotten some of their appetizers but I had only so much money. I still have some money left over for my meds that I will need in the middle of the month. I know I am going to be hurting tonight because I had to go up and down the stairs to bring up my groceries. It was only a few bags and a couple gallons of water but still. The trips are going to cause havoc on me later.

I am so happy I made my coffee. I also got my donuts like I wanted. I was so craving a jelly donut. I got a ½ dozen rather than a dozen like I was thinking. I was disappointed they didn’t have powdered donuts.

I know the coffee is making me feel hyper and feel good. I don’t trust it. I know the demons will be back tonight when the sun goes down. And I will be in pain. I wish I could feel like this forever. Then I wouldn’t be thinking of killing myself every night.