Plateaus

Plateaus:

People often hit plateaus in varies areas of life. Whether it be losing the last 5 pounds in weight loss, running, or just writing.

Besides these things, there are those that are more personal. You might hit a plateau in a relationship, in therapy, or medication wise. That is where I am at now. I have a plateau with my meds.

At first I started feeling better. Always a good sign when you are feeling crappy. But lately I feel that even though I can go up on my medication, I feel that it would probably do no good. I have reached the point in a short period of time and I feel frustrated about it. I feel like here we go again with yet another med. But unlike other meds, this med is keeping me stable despite making me feel 100% better. It is maybe making me feel 85% better and that is a lot considering all that I go through mentally. Oh, just to let you know I am talking about psychiatric medication and not something else.

I have hit these plateaus with many drugs. Usually when I do, I start slipping within a month. But with this drug I am not feeling that way. I feel ok but not ok in the sense of euphoria. Just and overall feeling of contentment. But given the circumstances of the moment, I am convinced I am suicidal but it is not because of the meds. It is because of other factors that cannot be explained. It is because I have a nerve condition I cannot tolerate. I have mental illness and it drives me batty. But not as bad as my nerve condition get me. I just want to die and no one can see that. No one can see how much I hurt. But I go along with the charade of feeling fine and happy because I don’t want to worry friends and family. I can’t tell them I have a broken heart and that I am dying of humility and loss of dignity. That is what I go through on a daily basis. And right now this is at its peak despite the meds making me feel better and be on a plateau. This is what the face of being suicidal is like. Everything seems normal to the other person but inside you are dying. Wanting to make them see that you are not ok. But you are the winning actor in the play and cannot show emotion. And so that is what the play is about. Feeling high on the mountain but feeling also like you are dirt.

Austin and coffee

Today was a difficult day. I had an appointment with my psychiatrist and then I had group therapy. I first stopped for coffee and had about a half hour to kill before leaving so had something to eat with my coffee. As I am sitting there checking twitter and eating, the guy in front of me sniffles. I then sniffle. We both started talking about sniffling. Well, that wasn’t the whole conversation but that is how it started. We talked a little bit about our lives and what we were up to. We became coffee buddies. I do hope I see him tomorrow, though he says that he gets there early and I am not an early riser. I was only there early because I had my appt with my psychiatrist. His name is Austin. He was telling me how people mess up spelling his name and I asked how. He said with a W. I thought, oh geez. As I left to go on my way, I asked him when he was there most days and he said that time (before 1000), which is way early for me. But who knows. Maybe he will be the reason I get up in the morning and get out of the house for my one cup of coffee.

My appt with my psych went well. This week was our twentieth anniversary. I can’t believe it. I met her when I was 17 yrs old. That was a long time ago. I never wanted to leave her and she never wanted to leave me. So the card I got her it says that we have a weird relationship. That is why we are together, or something like that. I didn’t write anything more profound. I just didn’t have the time but thought those words were enough. She was happy and said that I was the most thoughtful person she knew. I gave her 20 cake pops to represent our 20 years together. I didn’t think of anything else to get her that wasn’t too expensive and too much. I know I should have but sometimes giving gifts to a psychiatrist can be tricky.

I then went to group therapy and like last week, I had intense feelings of wanting to kill myself after the group. This time was because the walk was too much. I got within a block of the building when my foot decided it didn’t want to go any further. It was raining and cold. I pushed further to get to group. It was the same trouble getting back to the train station. I was within a block of the station when my foot got too tired so was doing whatever it walk. At one point I just stuck it out like a penguin’s foot and walk like that for a few steps. It didn’t help but it got me closer to the station. I know tomorrow I am going to be hurting. It is the price I pay for walking.

Group therapy went ok. But again I felt really bad afterwards and called my therapist because I was in crisis again. I promised myself I wouldn’t go ahead with my plans because of my psychiatrist. It is our twentieth anniversary and I just couldn’t give her a present and then kill myself that week. That would be awful of me to do to her. So again I put off death. But I didn’t put off my therapist. She wants to meet tomorrow. She is sick with a cold and I am secretly hoping she loses her voice so she can’t talk. But knowing her she will talk anyway or I will have to talk more. Either way I am stuck with this crazy person.

I wasn’t sure I would finish this paper today. I had a couple of bowel accidents thanks to what I hope to be overdoing it on fiber pills. I had the runs and crapped my pants. I just don’t have any control over loose stool because of my nerve condition CES. I lost control after my fourth surgery. It has been six years now and I don’t think I am going to regain those nerves. It really sucks. The worse part was that my mother had to clean it up. Talk about feeling like a baby. All she kept asking me was to take Imodium but that would cause more problems for me as then I would get too backed up. I hate talking about bowels on my blog but today there is no way around it. It is shitty talk but it brings out the worse suicidal rage in me. I had to email my psychiatrist and tell her I took an extra Ativan because I just couldn’t deal. It was either that or OD on Neurontin which would have just turned me into a Zombie tomorrow. But that is how I cope. I don’t really want to cut. I don’t have the urge but I do want to crawl under a rock and die. I am so embarrassed and humiliated. My dignity went out into the toilet. And I don’t think I can get it back.

What started off as a good day went to the crapper. All because I lost control of my sphincter. That is what it is like living with CES, Cauda Equina Syndrome

nobody gets me

Nobody gets me

I had my monthly check in with my PCP (primary care provider) and it did not go well. He didn’t believe the weight I gave him so I had to go on the scale, which I hate. I really have issues with my weight and this bothered me more than usual. The he tells me that I should have a more structured day and be more active. I am like are you fucking kidding me? I am lucky if I take a shower more than once a week and brush my teeth at least three times a week. I didn’t tell him this. I didn’t want him to think I was a real loser. So we talked about getting out of the house and walking around the block at least once a day. I felt like he didn’t get me because some days that is totally impossible because I just don’t feel like it or I am too tired from a night of not sleeping. He then tells me he just doesn’t want to give me pills every month. Well, sorry doc, that is what I need right now. I need to have the pills for when the pain is so bad I want to end my life. I don’t have the pills chances are I am going to make an attempt on my life. Just that simple. I can no longer tolerate my pain being above a 9 on a 0-10 scale.

Then we discussed my weight and I really wanted to get the hell out of there. I hate my weight, I hate my body. I hate it but there is little I can do about it as I can’t walk a treadmill. I could possibly do a bike but that takes every effort to join a gym, which I am thinking about. It will at least get me out of the house. I just don’t know if going for 5-10 mins each time is going to be helpful. I really don’t want to spend that much money for a 15 min workout. I can gradually pick it up but I will be afraid of pain returning. Walking kills me so maybe, just maybe, riding a bike will be easier. I don’t know until I try it but that may never happen. I would like a gym with a pool. But those are rare. When I was with the hospital, I had those benefits but never used them, well maybe once.

I had therapy with my therapist today and really lied through my teeth to say that I wasn’t going to kill myself this weekend. I just was yessing her to death so I could get off the phone. She was just really annoying me with questions and she brought up my family to find out how constricted I was. I hate her. I really do. She brings up my family and how they will not be able to handle my death. I don’t care. I can’t focus on that. I need to die and I am going to try this weekend. End of story. I am tired of struggling. I am tired of being in pain. I hate myself and always will, there is no changing that. I had started writing my will and have looked it over. There is nothing more that I wish to add.

Now it just depends on if I can get a hotel this weekend or not. I just need to get away. If I end up killing myself then that will be good but I don’t want to try something and fail again. It will be too much to do that. My therapist thinks I should be in the hospital but I won’t go. I really don’t want to go and the only way that will happen is if I am forced to go in. I am kind of sad because I know that this will be a shock to my psychiatrist. It is our 20th anniversary this week. I just feel that if I put it off I am only harming myself. I am making myself suffer longer. If I had cancer, people would want my suffering to end. Why can’t they see that this is the same thing? I am tired of hurting. I am tired of being in pain, both physically and mentally. Nobody gets that.

struggles

Been thinking really hard today about what my next move should be. I told my therapist goodbye but she didn’t accept it. She refused my cancelations so I have her on voicemail only on my phone. See how she likes that. Not like talking to her does much help anymore. Nothing seems to help. I am just a pitiful excuse for a human. I feel so awful I can’t even begin to describe it. I haven’t showered or brushed my teeth since Wednesday. I am going to brush after I send this blog out. I hate not being able to take care of myself at times. I just don’t think about that kind of stuff anymore since being out of work.

I am still thinking about my plan. I always have a plan. It is how I cope. Doesn’t mean that I will go through with it but I have it none the less.

I have a busy week next week. I have to see my PCP to get my pain pills refilled then see a friend on my way home to pick up my gift for my psychiatrist. It will be perfect because I see her on Wednesday. That is the other thing that is bothering me. How can I tell her happy 20th anniversary and then kill myself that weekend? I hate this tug of war with life. I really do. And don’t give me the crap that because I care means I am fighting to live. I can counter with I am fighting to die too. You people that think that way have no clue how frustrating it is to try and want to kill yourself and having all the responsibility to stay alive around you. You want so badly to die yet something keep holding you back. I call it hope at times that gives me another day. I really do because without it, I know I would not give myself a week to plan my death.

I also have group. Yes I will be going back if only to see if it is better than I think it is.

Struggle. That is all I do and I hate it. I just want the struggle to end. Is that too much to ask?