Tag: therapy

another day of therapy

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

Another day of therapy

My therapist had an opening early this morning and I reluctantly took it. I managed to get a Zipcar so I could see her. Traffic was a little hairy but I made it on time. I forgot how bad morning traffic could be as I haven’t driven in the morning in so long. We talked about my plan and about ditching the pills. I told her there was a high probability that I couldn’t walk to my destination anyways. I would have to do a trial run and I never did because my pain flare ups prevented that. She wanted to do a psychache scale but I told her it’s worthless because my physical pain is overshadowing my emotional pain right now. We did talk about my LTD paperwork and what I basically wanted her to say. I will pick up the papers when I see her on Tuesday.

I got back with 10 minutes to spare so I went to my house to grab my bag with my book and journal and returned the car. I wanted to go to Starbucks to edit my book and have another espresso drink. While I was there, they had these really cool Boston mugs with baseball on it. They were pricey but I didn’t care, I bought it. It was my reward for living. My mother is going to freak because I have so many mugs but only use one consistently. I might give it to a friend as a Christmas gift. Depends on how much I like it, haha. It’s a ceramic one so I need to be really careful with it because I am a clutz. I edited one story for my book and got tired. I tried writing in my journal but it wasn’t happening. I wanted a nap. I left for the station to get my pass for the month and then waited for the bus.

I wanted to show off my haircut to my therapist so I did my hair. Rain was in the forecast but I was hoping to beat it. No such luck. I just reached my stop home and it started raining. Figures, the one day I don’t wear my baseball cap, it rains. My bowels started acting up so I was glad I was going home. I had milk in the morning and I never know when it’s going to activate my bowels to go haywire. When I got home, my mother was in the bathroom and I knew I couldn’t hold it so I ran downstairs to my sister’s bathroom. I am so glad we have access to another bathroom or I would have had an accident. I just made it, too.

I am still going to try and make the pumpkin cake for my friend’s party Saturday. It all depends on how I feel. I feel like shit right now because I had to get up so fricken early. My energy levels have dropped since being home. I think I am crashing from all the espresso I drank today. I still need to make dinner. My mother is making pork chops but I got a burger that I need to cook or it’s going to go bad. I rather have the burger than pork. Sometimes, pork doesn’t agree with my digestive tract.

I had to call Zipcar today because the last driver that used the car I had smoked pot and cigarettes. It really reeked and I had to keep the windows rolled down most of my trip. I am glad the rain didn’t come until the afternoon because I can’t stand the smell of pot. I can’t believe someone would drive under the influence of pot. Just because they don’t own the car, doesn’t mean they should jeopardize other drivers. I was really pissed off. I won’t be using that car again, even though it’s more convenient for me.

annoying therapy session

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

Annoying therapy session

I woke up a few times during the night. It wasn’t due to pain, just restlessness I guess. I finally gave up around 0830. My check had come in by then so I paid some bills and ordered my groceries. I then set my alarm for therapy and went back to sleep.

I wish I slept through therapy. It’s was like my appointment with my psychiatrist, all talk about damn pain medication and how I should take it and so forth. It was pissing me off. Then she just started rambling about my blog that sent her. I swear, I just wanted to go back to sleep. It would have been much more peaceful. She wanted to discuss me feeling tiny and insignificant but she had her own ideas about it so I just let her rattle on. She was in a talkative mood today.

I told her I wouldn’t come out to see her tomorrow. My back is still giving me grief and I know I am not going to be able to make it up the hill. I will see her next week. She said that was fine. I tried telling her to just cancel tomorrow’s appointment but she wouldn’t listen. I told her I still had a date for this week. Course, now with my back acting up, I don’t see how I am going to execute it. I just can’t walk to where I am going and the weather is colder than I had planned. I feel defeated and I haven’t even tried. I am such a loser.

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.