Tag: therapist

Four Buses to Perform my Civic Duty

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders, psychache, suicide, suicide attempt

I had to take four buses today to vote for the Mass Senate election today. It would have been five had my cousin not dropped me off at Starbucks first. And it is hot and muggy out. I thought I was going to fry while waiting for my third bus.

UGH, Just got a text from my baseball network tweets that my favorite infielder is going to AAA and another infielder that I never heard of is taking his place. Took me I don’t know how many scrolls to figure out that this guy was an infielder because in the tweet that I got, it also listed the backup catcher on the 60-day disabled list. I wasn’t sure if we got another catcher or infielder. Wish they would be more clear but I understand that you have only so many letters to tweet.

I have a week off of therapy. I am glad as yesterday’s session annoyed me. She was the inquisitor asking me fifty million questions ranging from how I am doing to how I was feeling to when my next appointment was with my primary. I felt like I was getting drilled. And then we talked more about my suicidal plan. Today she wanted to know what I wanted to talk about but I had no clue. We tried to keep it light but it ended up going over to the dark side for a bit. She still insists that I cannot kill myself in the month of August and September. And I am like, the other months are ok? Killing myself in December would be ok? I just don’t know anymore. I don’t even know if I really want to kill myself. I haven’t been in intense pain for the past couple of weeks. We also talked about pain, but she kept referring to psychache and I was talking about my physical. Talk about being on opposite sides. On the other hand I could just kill myself because I can. I am just so torn. If I continue to live, would it be okay for me to do so? I know that might be a silly question, but given on hell bent I am/was on killing myself, wouldn’t I go against my own personal principles? Not like there is a law that says I have to. No one can really order me to kill myself (other than perhaps the voices in my head, which they have done before). Only I can make or break that decision. I guess since I have been feeling a little bit better, the land of the living seems ok, for now. But I also brought up the point that if I am in the throws of a flare up, I would be wishing for death and then feel a betrayal to myself for not following through.

In the midst of this, I have been reading Lincoln’s Melancholy. Lincoln has to be the my most favorite person in the world. I know he lived more than 160 yrs before I was born, before the time of even recognizing mental illness for what it is now. He suffered through I don’t know how many major depressive episodes and somehow got through them without killing himself. He once said during his first presidency, that he would have killed himself but what kind of message would that bring to the southern states? I have always admired him. He is the true staple of what resiliency is.

During our discussion in therapy, I brought up my scars on my wrist. My therapist said that I would get through this time like I have in the past, like my scars tell me. She kept on telling me that was what I wrote. At first I had no idea what she was talking about until I figured out it was this blog she was referring to. I forgot that I sent it to her. My mind is like a sieve. Soon as things filter their way through, I forget I did them. I probably won’t remember half of what I am writing here today. I guess it is a way for my head to get rid of what I am feeling in that moment.

I am eight hundred views shy of reaching ten thousand views. If I reach it before July 18th, that will be awesome. That is the start of my blog. Hard to believe my blog will be a year old. I just got five new followers within the last twenty-four hours. I surpassed two hundred. I would call my blog successful, I guess. But then I don’t know how my blog fairs with say the new AAS blog. I am sure they have more readers than I do, but I do get some filtering in when I post there or when someone reads the “who we are” page. I have fun writing for them.

a useless therapy session

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, chronic physical pain

I had a pretty exhausting but good day. I had a little hypomania for most of the day but that seems to have dissipated now. I have not crashed yet but I know it is coming on. I am dreading it. Given that I already have suicidal tendencies in the forefront of my mind, it is going to be hard to get away from this crash, depending on how bad it is. I was euphoric for nearly a day and a half, the longest I have ever been in such a long, long time. But I think a migraine interfered with it since I have taken my migraine med I have been feeling calmer and the racing thoughts have stopped.

I am listening to the ball game because I cannot stand watching the game while Dennis Eckersley is announcing. So I am listening rather than watching. I like listening to Joe Castiglione. He has a calming radio announcers voice.

I gave my therapist the blog that I wrote the other night, before my euphoria. It is so weird that I wrote so darkly and then felt the complete opposite within 12 hours. I met with her today as I had my sister’s car. We did not go into overtime. This week I am meeting with her four times. I know that might seem excessive but given my mood swings, it will be good. My thoughts were all over the place while I was talking. I didn’t know exactly what to talk about as she didn’t do her homework of reading the Managing suicidal risk forward that I told her to. I didn’t even see the book on her desk when I came into her office so I know she didn’t read it. I forget now why I wanted her to read it other the fact Shneidman praises Dr. Jobes work. I was kind of hoping that she would pull out an SSF (suicide status form) but my mind was going a hundred directions at once. I don’t remember half of what we did talk about other than me feeling like superman. She wanted permission to talk to my psychiatrist, which I consented. I don’t know what she will say. She thought that since I was euphoric I would give up my idea of being suicidal but I was too giddy to say yes to that. Maybe I was feeling good because I know there is an end to my pain. Wouldn’t be the first time I felt ok after making the decision to end my life. But I also wonder if I felt good because the pain I have been feeling is finally gone for the time being. I did tweak my ankle today just stepped wrong while looking for something in my room. We talked about my pain meds being a factor but for it to last more than a day, I find that highly unlikely. I know the pain med might still be floating in my system but I doubt it would have lasted till now.

I tried to stay focused with the letter/blog. I know I talked about how I got four more followers to make it 190 right now. I am pretty proud of my blog. I know that I touch people with it. And I do get some bloggers that provide feedback. I got a comment today about what I am writing, whether I am trying to reach out to people and I am not. I am just writing to express my feelings. I am not writing for sympathy.

As I got to see my therapist today, I got to see my big teddy bear, Johnny. I miss him. He is just a HUGE cuddly teddy bear. I love him since the day he entered my life 12 years ago. I got him as a gift when I had my first back surgery. He is so big that he couldn’t fit in the bed with me. I had to put him in a chair next to me. I told him today that he would have to take care of my therapist when I am gone. My therapist didn’t like hearing this but I have been telling her for years this.

We did talk about my writing my book. I told her that I would just put my stuff on dropbox for my friend to publish. I then had to explain what dropbox was as my therapist is technologically inept. I really don’t think my book will ever get published. But from what I gather from writers is that you just have to keep writing in order for that to happen. I still want to get a good publisher like scholar or some kind of press but I am not sure I can ever hit the big leagues. I know there are some self publishing companies but I don’t really have the dough to make that happen. And I doubt I would make the best sellers list. I know my blog is successful but I don’t think my life will make the big leagues in the book world. Most people have gone electronic anyways.

I feel like I need another cup of Java I am so tired but I have been up since six this morning. It is now eight thirty in the evening. I just took my night time meds. But I can’t go to sleep just yet because I am listening to the game.

I am starting to feel like shit mentally. I am wondering if I should go back to the hospital but that just always gives me more problems than it is worth sometimes. I don’t really get the help that I need there, depending where I go. Mostly you are counseled by the nursing staff and they are ultimately make the decision on whether or not you can go, not the attending psychiatrist. You are lucky to see the attending more than 10 minutes. And that is not enough time to do any sort of assessment. They basically just ask you questions, are you safe, are you going to hurt yourself and if they questions are no for three days, they send you free. They don’t care what brought you in the hospital. Soon as you are in, your insurance company wants to set you free.

Hot and muggy

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging

Hot and muggy

It’s a very warm day in Boston today. I am sweating and not liking this heat very much. I have not done anything except edit my book and talk to my therapist. She wants me to do a SSF, suicide status form as “the situation calls for it.” I could care less at this point. I am just so pissed off. I didn’t want to talk to her today. I should have canceled but I know she would have called me anyways.

Since finding out my date, she has been acting like a total psycho. I guess the date has some significance for her and it’s not like I knew that. I didn’t. I know her birthday is in Aug but it is NOT the day I picked to end my life. So I don’t know what her problem is. People die every day. We have put the date off for now but I don’t think I can. I want to end my life because I am tired of being in pain all the time. I can’t stand living like this anymore. I feel like a useless piece of shit. I told her I wrote to my psychiatrist a letter that I will probably send the day of the deed. I just can’t send it to her now because she probably will hospitalize me against my will again. I don’t want to be in the hospital and it will do no good being in the hospital because they just want to change your meds and if they can’t do that than within three days you are released. What are you going to accomplish in three days? NOTHING.

Why am I against the SSF? I don’t know, maybe because I am the one that introduced it to her and I feel like it is a slap in the face. I don’t think this will work because she never follows through with the whole thing anyways. We never resolve my suicidality. Soon as I don’t feel like doing one, it gets dropped and the whole thing fails. I guess I feel like why should I fill out a piece of paper that is going to tell me how I already feel? It’s not like I don’t hate myself, have psychache, am stressed to the maxed, am hopeless beyond belief, and am going to kill myself in a few months. I have no reason for living, and plenty of reasons for dying. Having my menses still is one of them.

I have had my menses for more than a month now. I am tired of it and my skin is irritated by the feminine products I have to wear and by my underwear. I am not used to wearing elastic fitting underwear that women wear. I rather wear boxer shorts but you can’t hold a feminine product in them. It makes me so uncomfortable and angry. More angry than I know what to do with and I have no one to take it out on. It’s not anybody’s fault really. I have the xx chromosome and not the xy so I guess I can blame my father as he is the one responsible for the Y chromosome! Another reason to hate him!

I know a shower might do me some good, washing off the stink of things and maybe cool me down some from this heat but I just can’t be bothered right now. I will later today. I have to as I really reek. I can no longer use deodorants because I have a rash under my armpit. It is going to be an interesting summer. I also have not shaved in a while because I have an open scratch where the rash is. I can’t help it. It is itchy!! So far the only thing helping is hydrocortisone cream. I hope it goes away soon.

Another thing about the SSF, it is not that I don’t like it. I actually praise it because it is a good tool to use. But the draw back like I said before is that I don’t think it can help me because I know how to “cheat” on it, per se. I know what the answers should be and that does not help me in the long run.

Another thing she asked me today was what was my psychache. I have not filled out a Holden psychache scale in so long. I don’t know what it would be. And again, it doesn’t matter. All it will prove is that I have psychological pain. I just feel very hopeless about this. I can’t help it. I am trying to get her to see that she will be losing me and to get away from me as far as she can and she just won’t do it. I just don’t care.

A remembrance of the past

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

I read a blog today that really hit home and made me think. It was about a person that wrote about her experience of attempting suicide eight years ago this month. I also have an attempt anniversary this month, actually in a few days time it will be 21 years ago that I first attempted suicide with diphenhydramine, also known as Benedryl. I remember that it was a month after my then therapist told me she was leaving. I thought fine, so will I. I planned my death on a day I knew my family would not be home and took the pills. What I didn’t account for was puking, violently. If I hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t be here today. I still remember my eyes being dilated for almost a week afterwards. I was pretty mad and I felt like a failure, a huge one. Probably the biggest one on the planet at that point. Here I was, a very intelligent teenager who couldn’t kill himself right. I sunk into the worse depression after that. Actually, I had no idea I could sink worse than what I already felt but I did. I began losing weight, lost my appetite almost completely. I was sixteen years old and all I thought about was death. I was not sleeping. I would wake up at four in the morning nearly every day and couldn’t go back to sleep. I would wake up dreading the world, not wanting to go to my summer job but I had to. I couldn’t show that I was depressed. My mother had already freaked out when she found out I had overdosed thanks to the said therapist who told her after I told her what I had done. I didn’t know what to do. I think after several weeks of this and it just getting worse and worse I called Samaritans and talked with them about my situation. The person told me that I should be in the hospital and I contemplated that. I waited a few more days to see if things would get better and when I couldn’t take anymore, I told my mother I needed help. She took me to the hospital and I got diagnosed as major depression with psychotic features. Up until then, I had dreams of joining the navy. Those dreams died in the hospital emergency room when they told me I was psychotic because the voices in my head wouldn’t shut up. I actually felt free to talk with them for the first time in my life. My mother didn’t like that as it appeared that I was crazy. Well I was…

I got to the hospital and got sent to a local psych ward that was NOT for teens. I then got transferred to a better psych hospital the next day. I would have two more admissions there before I had a break. So my cycle of being in and out of the hospital began. I had three admissions all within a year. I blamed my next therapist for this as if she was doing her job, I wouldn’t be so sick. This is the therapist that I saw after the other one had left. I have seen many therapists in my lifetime, too many in fact. Before I turned twenty-five, I would have eleven therapists. Some therapists only saw me for ten months, others were year and a little over. I never had continuity in my care so I always remained unstable. Surprisingly, the only stable therapeutic relationship I have had was with my psychiatrist, whom I have been with since I was seventeen. I wished so badly at times that I could see her for therapy but she only does medication.

And here I am twenty odd years later and I still want to end my life. How sad is that…