Tag: therapy

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.

another aggravating therapy session

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

Another aggravating therapy session

I sent my therapist the blog I wrote last night. She called it the “Russian Roulette” plan, which I guess it is. She asked what went on with my psychiatrist’s appointment and I told her we talked about my suicidality. Then out of fucking no where, she starts saying it’s good that she knows about negative symptoms, that I feel nothing, etc. I just told her to shut up. That isn’t what we talked about and I just sent/wrote that blog last night. I have no idea if my psychiatrist has read it, yet. But my stupid therapist likes to conjure up these scenarios in her head about what goes on in my life no matter if they are true or not.

I got so damn frustrated that I told her I didn’t want to talk with her today. I had a crappy sleep, woke up early, and have been in pain most of the day. She then asks if anything exciting has gone on in my life. Are you fucking kidding me? She obviously didn’t want to deal with my suicidality. And frankly, I was glad because I don’t want to deal with it either.

We talked about the holiday for a little bit. I told her I would be making my cranberry cake. I didn’t tell her I planned on making it today, if I found the energy. I might make it later this afternoon. She asked if I felt any grief and I said no. Then she asked about dreams. She was fishing for anything to talk about. She wanted to know if I was coming out to see her next week. I told her no because I can’t afford it. I need to get Christmas gifts for my family. Not really expensive things but just a little something.

my crazy therapist

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

My crazy therapist

I had therapy today reluctantly. She gave a bunch of reasons why she felt the need to meet today, but I could tell she was just justifying her need to talk to me this week. As I thought, we didn’t really talk much about anything other than her need to constantly know what I am up to. I did tell her I was done. I didn’t go into more than that and she didn’t ask. I honestly felt like we were talking in circles. I was still groggy as I didn’t sleep well. Pain kept me up most of the night and then I woke up after a 3 hour nap to take some more pain meds around 0530 this morning.

I told her I had planned on cancelling next week but she begged me not to. So we are meeting. It’s just a waste of time for me. I don’t understand why she is bothering to try and save my life when I am clearly very intent on ending my life. It’s so stupid. She reiterated today that she cares about me and that she doesn’t care that her caring is a little unconventional. She is going through some great lengths to talk to me. However, her anxiety around my suicidality is apparent. She tends to talk about nothing most of the session, which leaves me feeling like she doesn’t want to hear what I have to say. Granted today, I didn’t want to talk at all. I was too tired to put two sentences together much less a conversation.

My foot and ankle are still throbbing. I really want to make something to eat but going down the stairs might hurt me more than I already hurt. I took some pain pills so I am hoping it calms down the pain enough that I might be able to get to the kitchen to make myself something to eat. I told my therapist that the Neurontin has caused me to gain at least eight pounds in the last few weeks. My eating habits haven’t changed that much but I just put on the weight. My doc tomorrow is not going to be happy about this but I really don’t care. There is nothing I can do to prevent weight gain other than restricting calories and I am not good at that. My therapist told me I had other fish to fry, which made me feel better, a little bit.

Pain meds have started to kick in. I don’t understand why they work “faster” in the day time and take forever to work during the night time. I am very drowsy. I need to take a shower some time today as I need to get up really early tomorrow morning. Just thinking about it, is exhausting me. I am going to take a little nap. Maybe when I wake up, I will have enough energy to make something to eat and shower.

Editing Complete and other things

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

Editing Complete

I spent a couple hours inputting the edits/changes to my book. Now I just need to write seventy-five pages to complete the book. This is if I don’t kill myself between now and the next month. I planned another date but I have therapy tomorrow so it might be curtailed. Because the holidays are next month and my next paycheck will be after the holidays, I won’t be able to see my therapist like I had hoped. I might be able to see her the week of my birthday but that will be it. I just can’t afford gifts and Zipcars.

I had a cup of tea and I think it’s causing me to not be sleepy. I did take my pain meds a little while ago so I am hoping I will sleep soon. I really don’t want to talk to my therapist. I didn’t ask for this session so I think it’s unfair that she has set this upon me. I am going to really rip into her for doing this.

I feel like this book is my second memoir as it’s mostly about my psychotic experiences. I did have some really cool delusions. It was fun to write about them, but I am sure it wasn’t fun while I was going through them. It’s usually very scary and I distrust those closest to me until the meds kick in and then I am in my “right” mind again. It was strange as I had written about my traumatic experience that brought me into therapy while listening to a song written by Taylor Swift that I swear represents my father to a T. I had it on repeat and while going through this one story, I was remembering the feelings of that night that I had written about. I couldn’t believe just how threatening my father was that night. It was then that I realized he was just a man.

If there is a song that I really love, I usually send some lyrics to my therapist. I really love Sam Hunt’s song “make you miss me”, but I can’t send her the lyrics to that one because she will have the police at my door if she can’t get in touch with me. The lyrics are powerful and I love them. I have the song on repeat right now because I want to sing the damn song without messing up on certain parts. It’s always towards the end of the song, I screw up. I will get it one of these days.

Facebook had “suggested” a publishing page for a Neil Gaiman book. I have it on Kindle but this was a leather bound book and it looked really cool. I clicked on it to see how much it was and it was fucking $100! No thanks! I will stick to my Kindle version. It had an excerpt from the book and now I am kind of nervous to read it because it talked about monsters. I don’t like scary books. His American Gods book had me freaked out. Took at least a week for me to get the images out of my head when people in the book were gruesomely killed or something weird happened. He is a brilliant writer but on the very weird side. I wanted to get his new book Troll Bridge but it’s a graphic novel. I don’t know what that means but I am guessing it is not my cup of tea. I have yet to go to the bookstore to look at it. I think that is what I am going to do from now on with his books. Not buy them until I physically look at them. Then I can decide if I want them or not. He is coming out with a mythology book in Feb. That one I would love to have, if I make it that long.

I feel like being suicidal is like living with cancer or something terminal. You just never know when you are going to die by your own hands. It could be tomorrow or it could be next week. I guess it just depends on guts. But survivor guilt has been killing me from going through with it at times. I know it will break my mother’s heart and that of my family, especially my nieces and nephew. Then I got my stupid therapist’s guilt trip whenever I bring it up. She is just expressing her feelings on the matter, which I don’t always take into consideration. I try to block them out because it’s just easier that way but then I really think about what I am doing and it stops the suicide plan and gives me some time. I hate this because I just want to fucking die because I can’t stand being in physical pain anymore.

If you have been reading my blogs the last few months, you may know that I talk about my suicidality a lot. It’s such a hard decision that can’t be taken lightly. Ambivalence is always the deciding factor. I think the statistics for suicide would be a lot higher if people weren’t ambivalent about taking their lives, mine included. Sometimes suicide is a rash decision. But for those with chronic suicidality, it really is based on being ambivalent and hopeful or hopeless about things that either keep you alive or make you want to take your life. With me, appointments with my therapist, as much as she pisses me off, gives me a kind of hope to make it through the day or the week. My psychiatrist is the same because I know she cares about me deeply. We have been working together for more than 20 years so I hope she does care about me after all this time. Next year will be our 25th anniversary. Hard to believe. That is if I am able to make it through the next month or so. Things are not looking good so far. I know I have said this a few times over the last few months and I am still here. One day, I will make good on my promise to end my life, or at least try to. It’s a tricky business trying to kill a human being. I have learned my lesson over the years. You would think that would stop my suicidal tendencies but it hasn’t. I guess I am just destined to dream of killing myself and hope one day it comes true.