Tag: therapy

Mockingbird won’t sing

by Midnight Demon, posted in bipolar, blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders, suicidality, writing

Mockingbird won’t sing

I spoke to my therapist about my pw protected blog. It is about my coming out as a transgender. She liked it and recommended that I send it to my psychiatrist. I have no intention of doing so because I just think it will be a waste of my pdoc’s time. I know she enjoys my writing but sending her something she already knows seems redundant to me. We had already discussed this (TG issues) when I saw her last. I took down the blog but have it saved in my trash bin, should I decide to send it out again.

After my session, I was a little hyper. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I did some journaling and that seemed to calm me down some. I think I drank too much coffee. LOL It is weird that on days that I don’t have coffee I can function fairly well but am not as productive and on days that I do have coffee, I am more productive and can think a little more clearly.

I just had my lunch, a bowl of cereal. I really wanted a bacon sandwich but I am trying to lower my salt intake. Plus it was cinnamon toast crunch and I know cinnamon has some health value.

I seemed to have done something to my right hip between changing my sheets on Sunday and walking yesterday. I took a trip to the basement to freeze some bread as our freezer was full and by the time I got there, my hip and sciatica was acting up. I was having pains in the buttock going down my leg. Soon as I rested it went away. I want to do another walk tomorrow, the same distance I did yesterday. I need to try and do more exercise but I also don’t want to hurt myself in the process. I am going to try stretching those muscles to see if that eases the pain. It might just need a gentle stretch as I am out of shape. I haven’t walked long distances in over two years. I wish there was a Starbucks I could walk to but there isn’t. There is no way I can walk to my Starbucks place in the square. That will be my goal one day but not off the bat. It still depresses me that I can’t walk far without pain. I used to be able to walk anywhere I wanted to. Now I am so limited that even a walk more than a few blocks hurts me. But if I don’t test my limits and move past them, I am never going to know what I can and can’t do. I want to be more mobile but not to be in pain all the time. I am NOT willing for that to be the price I pay for increased mobility. And I know it will take time. Maybe walking halfway and back is what I need to do until I can do the 1.2 miles again.

I have titled this “Mockingbird won’t sing” because it was the song that I was listening to when I started my blog. It is a song by Rob Thomas. It reminded me of the time when my therapist and I were not on the same page. No matter what we tried, we just were batting heads. I wasn’t making much progress in what was being said. I felt like I was at a stand still and was doubting whether I should stay with my therapist. That was when we decided on consultation, and even then we had different opinions on what kind of consult we needed. She wanted me to see a DID (dissociative Identity Disorder) specialist and I wanted to see a suicidologist. We ended up seeing both, though not at the same time.

I got nothing but bullshit from the DID specialist. She denied my hallucinations, called them “parts of self”. If they were parts of me, why did they respond so well to medication?? I felt like I was back in the old ward of the Trauma unit of the hospital I was just discharged, where they wanted me to name my feelings and “talk with them”. This person had some pretty eclectic ideas about how trauma works. But I guess she got the idea from Europe and brought it over to the States, where it didn’t catch on. And the reason for that is because DBT (Dialectical Behavior Therapy) takes precedence. My therapist did like her style and I hated it. I still think it is a crock, though, I will admit, there are some merits to what she was saying. I don’t remember them now but I remember the specialist’s papers were interesting.

The suicidologist was more my type. He was analytical, complete with a couch in his office. We had a few sessions but I found that transference (my feelings toward him) was getting in the way of our therapy so I stopped going. He is still available to me should I need him again. Unfortunately, he doesn’t accept my insurance so it will be a hefty bill, if I do see him again.

wondering if it was all a dream

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

wondering if it was all a dream

I took yesterday off from blogging. I was in too much emotional pain to get my thoughts together. I emailed my psychiatrist today to tell her how I was feeling. I see her Friday but my last message to her was about how suicidal I was. I wanted to tell her that has lifted a bit but I still have a profound depression that is rearing its ugly head. I also wanted to let her know I got my fucking menses again. For the past several weeks, I have been dealing with the self-hate of being TG. Now having my menses are just fucking with me and my self-worth. I came pretty close to doing something this time. I had the suicidal impulses and that to me was scary. I didn’t do anything, other than take an extra Ativan to calm down the perturbation/impulsivity. Most of the suicidal thoughts are gone since I started menstruating, which isn’t supposed to happen because I am on pills to stop the fucker. But I still am in tough depression.

So I emailed my psychiatrist and told her, plainly, what was going on. I bet she probably figured out before I did that my suicidal tendencies were due to hormonal shifts. I did tell her the next time it happens, I might not be so lucky. One would think that because I have no job, that writing has become more than a hobby for me, and that I keep myself occupied, I shouldn’t really be depressed. MYTH! I could be deeply depressed even if I was working a full-time job. I know, I have been deeply depressed for years when I was working full-time. Now my writing has taken a little more of a hobby capacity. It has become my livelihood. You could say that I am living because I blog. But after a while, I can’t think of something fresh to write about and the depression hinders my thinking. I panic when this happens. I never know when a depressive episode is going to land me in the hospital. I know my hospitalizations have decreased over the years but I still need one a year, lately. It is just a way for me to recharge my batteries. I hate going in because it sucks waiting in the ER for a long time. I get bored and have to try not to use all the battery on my phone because reception sucks and it drains it all. I usually bring myself to the hospital because I don’t want my family to know. Should I be in the hospital because of this last suicidal episode? I don’t know. I am not feeling like ending my life as much as I did this weekend. My therapist was confused about the texts I sent her. It wasn’t a clear SOS. But then, I always become deceptive when I am suicidal. You can’t kill yourself if a professional knows the 411. Course, if I sent the same message to my pdoc, it probably would have landed me in the hospital. My pdoc doesn’t mess around.

I still wonder why I am still here. I should be dead with how heavy the suicidal thoughts were a yesterday. Course yesterday feels like it was ages ago. I am not saying I lost time. I was fully present throughout the day but now that I have my stupid menses, those heavy thoughts are no longer there and I am wondering if it was all a dream. Every time I get those experiences, I often wonder afterwards, was it a dream. But I know from the texts and blogs I wrote it wasn’t.

My therapist read the therapy and coffee blog that I sent her. She is a little embarrassed about it because I make her sound like a nut job. That wasn’t my intention. I asked her if she wanted me to take it down. She said no because I am free to write whatever I feel like writing. But now I am wondering if I should write a blog about lyrics and therapy. I worked hard on the coffee blog. I would hate to take it down.

Therapy and Coffee

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

18-July-14

Coffee and therapy

Last night I read blogs about how a therapist lost a patient to suicide and how he got through it, two years later. It started to get me thinking about my journey with my therapist. Though this isn’t a linear story and is not about what went on in therapy, it is a story about how coffee brought me closer to my therapist and formed a bond that we didn’t know about at the time.

I was not always a Starbucks coffee drinker. Like many Bostonians, Dunkin Donuts coffee was sufficient. But once you have experienced a full bodied coffee, you can never go back to their coffee. My therapist’s office had an Au Buon Pain French bakery across the street. They sell great coffee. After having their coffee, I really couldn’t go back to Dunkin. I started drinking their coffee and found that I like it much better than Dunkin, even if it cost a little more.

A funny story about the Au Buon Pain coffee. Usually by mid-session I would be finished with my coffee and I would play with the cup, mainly playing with the protective sleeve by picking at the corners. During one session, it was getting intense, and I was playing with the empty cup. Some how the lid flew off in the direction of my therapist sitting across from me. We both laughed at the symbolism and meaning of with this lid. But I guess the lid meant more to her as she kept the it after session that day. It was just a plastic coffee lid to me but she found a treasured object. When we started exchanging gifts sometimes after my 30th birthday (my birthday falls near Christmas), I received the lid back with a corny message. She had placed it in a picture frame and on the back was the message. I am unable to find this frame at this time and I don’t remember what the lid said. I just laughed.

I have a sensitive stomach so it wasn’t too long before my gastritis would act up over my one cup of coffee a day. I think it was around this time that I switched to Starbucks. I figured I couldn’t go wrong with espresso diluted with milk. At first, I couldn’t tolerate the switch as it has been forever since I had a glass of milk. But after a while I got used to it and I am now a full time Starbucks junkie.

It didn’t matter what office we were at, there was always a Starbucks I could find. I swear I have an internal GPS Starbucks locator in my brain. When she first moved to Framingham, 30 miles from her Cambridge location, she said there weren’t any Starbucks nearby. I found two within two miles of her office. I would always have my mocha during sessions. During one session, the lid came off again and this time I spilled my drink on her fancy rug. I felt so bad. Starbucks had changed their covers to flimsy plastic and it didn’t fit right on the cup. This time, my therapist didn’t keep the lid.

I think I have consumed more Starbucks coffee over the years than any other establishment in my area. I now make their coffee at home, which further debilitates my staying in the house. But then, I will only drink Starbucks coffee. Occasionally and in a pinch, I will have Dunkins or Au Buon Pain or even the local convenient store coffee. I still have remained a loyal customer even though the price of their coffee has gone up over the years. I used to solely drink their espresso drinks, but since they out with the Clover system, which makes one cup of coffee at a time, I have gone back to coffee. It is cheaper than the espresso drinks. I have yet to try espresso by itself, however.

Through all the coffee consumption, I still have the same therapist. She has been with me for the past 13+ years. Next month will be technically our 14th year. I say technically because I had my first session with her in 2000 but because she didn’t take my insurance at the time, I couldn’t see her. When I changed my insurance the following year, I called her up and was happy to find that she still was accepting new clients.

Her vacation this year will be welcome. I need a break from her. It’s not that she is doing anything wrong, it’s just that I need some space. I know that I’ll probably write her letters while she is gone. I have always written her letters to say what I cannot talk about. Mostly I write to vent and then I forget what I write. They (researchers) says it’s a cathartic response. And most of what I write is cathartic. Of the more than 700 blogs I have written over the last two years since starting my blog, the only ones I specifically remember are the papers I have posted. The rest I may remember from a tag or title but sometimes, I have found, the title isn’t what the blog is about.

My therapist started her practice at the middle of Mass Ave in Cambridge. She moved down the street several times until her final destination was 30 miles away. Each move, I went with her. She could have stopped seeing me at any point in the consolidation of her practices, as she called it. Course it was very difficult when her final destination was Framingham. I don’t have a car so we communicate mostly by phone. I try to get my sister’s car at least once a month to visit her but it sometimes doesn’t work out because of my pain levels. And usually, I will get a coffee before starting the trip. It’s anywhere from 45 mins to an hour and a half from where I live to her office. It all depends on the traffic. And which route I go. I mostly go one route that is through several towns rather than go the direct route, which is the highway. The highway would be faster but I have had one too many tire blow outs and I am just too afraid now to go that way. It has traumatized me to the point I will only go if I have a very reliable car. My last tire blow out, I thought I was going to get killed because I was stuck in the middle of the road and a semi was coming in hot after me. Since that day I only use that highway only if I absolutely have to.

As much as my therapist is a “PITA” (Pain In The Ass), she is also stubborn. We will butt heads frequently about sessions to my safety. Since she calls me a suicidologist, I have often brought in tools to help with the suicidal thoughts and ideation. Before then, we just used with the “no harm contracts” which suck. Now we use a Crisis response plan. See this blog to find out more about it. It’s good I see a stubborn therapist. The only thing I hate is that she NEVER allows me to cancel a session anymore. I used to be able to cancel whenever I didn’t feel like going in. Those days are long gone. If I cancel due to a legit reason, say my father’s doctor appointment, I need to reschedule. We always meet twice a week. Very rarely do I see her once a week, though when my suicidality, peaks it could be three time a week.

There was one session I really didn’t want to see her. She called me and asked where I was and I told her I was home. This is after I canceled our session. She bribed me with a mocha to come to her office. Who does that?

psychological pain and goal setting

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

I was looking over the stats for today and noticed someone read my therapy and therapists blog. For some reason, I thought it was clear that it was for psychology but someone made a comment about physical therapy and I had to go back in and change the title to therapy and therapists (psychological). I still don’t know what made someone think that I was talking about physical therapy.

Been having another rough day with pain, both physical and psychological. It’s a good thing that my therapist is off because it is the weekend or I might have to go the ER, and not for the physical pain. My thoughts have been very dark. I can’t see a future. I feel really bad and I don’t know why. I still want to kill myself. Been thinking about writing a note and some instructions on what to do after my death. I just haven’t done it because I am afraid if I take that step forward there might not be any going back.

If I were to take a psychological pain scale assessment, I am sure I would score pretty high on it right now. Everything in my being hurts. It hurts to breathe. It hurts to write. I wrote a blog the other day on a notepad that is five pages long and I still haven’t typed it up. It is about my therapist and coffee. I typed up a page and a half and then had to stop. It got too tiring to continue. My psychache is unreal and is causing me to think slower than usual. Thing is, even if I were to devise a plan to kill myself, I doubt I would be able to execute it because I have no energy. I am not perturbed enough to go through with it. All I can do is write about how much I am in despair and hope that it will pass. But will it?

All month I have been meaning to change my bedding. So far, I have been successful in cleaning off the “office” side of my bed so I can change the sheets. I figure tomorrow I might be able to finish putting things aside and changing the sheets come Tuesday. That is, if I am not in too much pain. I woke up early this morning in physical pain and I have been miserable all day. I fell back to sleep and woke up really late. Too late to make coffee. I haven’t had a cup of coffee in days. I think Thursday was the last time I had a coffee drink. I am in withdrawal as I keep having a low level headache. I hate when I wake up late in the day. It throws everything off. I hope I can sleep most of the day tomorrow. I really don’t want to do a damn thing, except for maybe going out for coffee. I can make it at home, sure, but that involves work. Granted it would be faster making it at home but I really have to type of the blog and maybe I can do that at Starbucks. I have to set some goals during the day or otherwise I feel defeated and hopeless. But again, it all depends on what my pain levels are like and if I have the motivation to go through with those goals. Right now I am feeling good that I got some stuff off my bed. I just take a one thing off a day, so this way I am not overwhelmed by the entire task. Otherwise I would be stuck in the depression and not be able to do a damn thing. But I don’t feel like going out tomorrow. And I don’t feel like making coffee. So I will just sleep the day away, just take my meds and sleep. Maybe then the pain, both psychological and physical will go down enough for me to face Tuesday.