How’s it?

Well, I don’t really know at the moment… can that be my answer? I’m still suicidal, self harm helps with this, but I’m trying to not do that, I got close tonight but managed to abstain; I’m still psychotic, just not as bad; I’m still having flashbacks and body memories galore, every day, at least once a day; sleep is a crapshoot, it may happen, it may not, tonight it did not.

The PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) and DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder) are really messing with me right now. I have been having a really hard time with memories of something that happened in September of 2000. These memories are causing a lot of problems, including crying spells, isolation, withdrawal, dissociation, self injury, and increasing suicidal thoughts. Basically, all of the signs of a severe episode of clinical depression. One that a psychiatrist would encourage possibly going back into the hospital to treat. Which is NOT going to happen.

I have school that I need to take care of. I cannot fall behind. Not this semester. I really have to make it through the semester this time. I cannot do the in-out crap again… I have got to stay out of the hospital.

It’s been almost 2 months now since I got out. The suicide attempt was on the 11th of December. I got out of the hospital on the 19th of December. Now, if I can just stay out… that is all I have to do.

The particular incident that is bothering me the most, that I am working on in IOP, is extremely traumatic. Even writing that sentence brought up enough thought of the event that I’m on the verge of tears already… The IOP that I am in is trauma focused, so everyone in the room is there because they have experienced something traumatic and are wanting to work on it and be able to better handle the memories when they come up.

When I was finally able to tell the group about the trauma that I am there for, the group was just quiet. I was fighting tears, I didn’t want to cry in front of people, not because it was IOP or them or anything, just because it was people. At some point in the course of the conversation, the group therapist started saying “it wasn’t your fault” repeatedly. Over and over and over. The first time she said it, I could feel the tears move higher up in my throat. The second time, I could feel them welling in my eyes. The third, I couldn’t fight it anymore. I started shaking with every breath, and I was balling my eyes out. I could hear that one of the other group members came over by me, and she put a tissue next to my hand. Then she asked if she could touch me… I nodded. She rubbed the back of my shoulder while I cried. I was glad she asked before touching me, that helped a lot. That was the main reason I said yes in the first place… because she asked permission, I felt like I could trust her. Honestly, at the time that I was crying, I couldn’t even tell which group member she was. All I had to go on was her voice, and I just couldn’t tell… it was only the end of my first week.

And now, at this very moment, my eyes are welling up, and I can feel the tears in my throat. I am trying to fight them, I don’t want to cry before I even get to IOP. I don’t want it to be that kind of day. I don’t want the day to start with crying. I don’t want to show up to IOP with puffy eyes, looking like I have been crying, before we have even started.

I haven’t slept. At all. I had a sleep study night before last, at the doctor’s office, and had to be there for part of the day so they could test me during several naps, a couple hours apart each. I was able to leave a little after 2 pm. They woke me up at about 6:30 am yesterday morning, and had me try to nap 3 times, but I don’t think I ever fell asleep during the naps, although I may have. So I have been awake since 6:30 am yesterday, with the possibility of a 30 minute nap. It is currently 7:42 am, so I have been awake over 24 hours already. Which means I am in an extra vulnerable state. I have class tonight as well, but I should be able to sleep a little between IOP and class. IOP is over at 1 pm and class starts at 6 pm, so sleep is a possibility. I was hoping to work on my speech class but then had insomnia. Oh, well…

But, really, I was going somewhere… where was I going with that train of thought?

I’ve just gotten to the point that the flashbacks and body memories are becoming too much. I can’t handle them anymore. I want them to stop, but the only way to really make them stop right away is to make me stop right away. Making them end means making me end. That is honestly where my head is at right now. My head is telling me suicide is the logical answer to getting away from reliving the event multiple times a day. (Don’t worry, I am being honest with the therapist at IOP. She knows that I am having suicidal thoughts and we check in about safety at the end of the day, every day.)

[Trigger][Description of Abuse]

I just cannot keep seeing the moment that *he* figures out that I’m pregnant, and the pure rage that comes over his face with the realization. He asks how far along I am. I tell him about 14 weeks, if I’m calculating right, and he gets even more furious which I didn’t think was possible. The fear I felt in that moment was absolutely daunting. I had never been that afraid of him during our entire relationship. During the flashbacks, I feel that fear, at that level, just like I am back in that moment, seeing the fury wash over his face… Next thing I know, I am on the ground and he is kicking me, aiming for my stomach. I do my best to stay in a ball and protect my child, but he keeps managing to get me out of the ball by grabbing my hair, kicking me in the back, or picking me up and throwing me onto the ground again. I didn’t know he was capable to lifting me. I mean, I wasn’t a tiny girl… at the time, I weighed around 185 lbs, maybe more. He jsut kept going and going for what felt like forever. I don’t know how long it really went on, I just know it seemed to go on for a really long time. After a couple of days, I started showing signs of a miscarriage. The symptoms kept getting worse as time went on and eventually I found myself just on my bed in the fetal position. My son eventually left my body, and the image of him is forever burned into my brain. He was so tiny, but he looked like a baby and he was a boy. I named him Michael and I cried for hours and buried him by myself. I hadn’t told anyone I was pregnant, because of the abuse and the fear of what would happen.

That is what I relive on a daily basis. The beating that caused me to lose my son, the sensations of the miscarriage itself and the images of my son once he was outside of my body. It’s torture.

[/Trigger]

Well, I need to get ready to go… I have to leave for IOP in a little bit and I’m not even dressed yet. Plus, I’m on the verge of tears again, and I need to find something to distract myself to keep me from all-out ugly-crying.

I hope y’all have a great day, and I will talk with you soon!

Bad few days, or…

I feel like I’m crashing again… I don’t want to be crashing again… I want it to be just a few bad days. I want it to just be my shot of Abilify wearing off early, since it was the first one. I want to miraculously feel better after I get the next shot on Friday. Abilify is an antipsychotic that can be used as a mood stabilizer as well. Since the demons are more present in addition to my mood being crappy, I’m hoping that it’s just that the Abilify has worn off. I’m still on a small oral dose daily, until I get the next shot, which may be the only reason that I am even surviving at the moment.

The flashbacks and body memories are horrible right now. They are a daily thing; multiple times a day, sometimes multiple times an hour. They make it nearly impossible to speak, or even move, for a while. They make me tear up, and want to hide, curl up into a ball, and cry. But I can’t… I have to keep going, keep doing the things that are expected of me, keep going to appointments, keep going to PHP, prepare to start school again next week, deal with things that have been coming up, and appear to be okay to the people around me. At times, it’s too much to pretend to be okay. I just can’t do it. I’ll shut down.

The only place that is really safe to shut down, for me, is at PHP. I can’t shut down at home… mom doesn’t leave me alone long enough to just be by myself and hide in my room, on my bed, doing nothing. I can’t shut down around my friends… we usually get together at public places with other people around that I’m not as familiar with and don’t want to see me in “shut down” mode. Plus, my friends are more likely to force me into a car and drive me to the hospital if they see me in complete shut down. But at PHP, I can literally sit there the entire 5 hours and not say a word, staring at the table, barely moving or responding to anything… the therapist there doesn’t really say anything or push me to participate. At the end of the first 3 groups, he does ask the same question every day… in the same words, every day. “Is anybody having any suicidal or homicidal thoughts that they feel they need to speak with someone about before they leave to stay safe?” That’s the only time out of the entire day that he really requires a response. And if that response isn’t satisfactory, in one way or another, he’s gonna will grab that person before the end of the day for a private conversation. Mostly to go over a crisis plan and check if they feel they can be safe going home having a crisis plan or if they need to check into the hospital.

The therapist has said before that he’s not going to force someone to go inpatient. Strongly suggest, probably… spend as much time as needed to get someone to a point where all parties involved are comfortable with the client going home, yep… but *he* will not take the decision of going to the inpatient hospital away from the client. He has stated that he won’t take that power away from anyone. There may be an unspoken statement in there that he may have to defer to someone higher than him, who would make that decision for the client, if safety cannot be contracted and the client will not agree to the hospital. Obviously, there are legal requirements in the US and in my state that if someone is a danger to themselves or others, certain professionals are required to get that person treatment, or at least get them assessed for treatment by a psychiatrist or mental health police officer. Here, at least, mental health officers are able to put someone under orders of emergency commitment (POEC). I’ve been in the hospital under a police order 3 times, but signed the papers to stay when the orders ended each time.

Right now, it’s 12:30 am, and I am out on the front porch, listening to a podcast and writing this blog. I’m kind of just typing… not really even paying much attention to what is going from my brain out into the computer. I don’t want to go to bed yet… I’m not really tired. I want to wait until I am exhausted, so that I will just crash and hopefully just sleep all the way to morning, without waking up from any nightmares. Which may mean that I don’t go to bed for a few more hours… less hours of sleep but uninterrupted is better than waking up in terror multiple times. So now, what to do until then? I can’t just sit outside forever… it’s misting and I’m out here on my Chromebook, which probably isn’t the best idea. It’s also a little chilly out; it’s in the 60s (farhenheit). Not too cold, just chilly. I’m wearing socks and a hoodie with my PJs, just the breeze gets me a bit.

I don’t want to go to PHP tomorrow. I want to stay home and lie in bed all day. I had to miss today, because I had two doctor’s appointments, and I have to miss Friday for the same reason. With my insurance, I can only miss 5 groups a week, unless I have notes from the doctor. I have notes from both doctors today, and plan on getting notes for Friday also, but I don’t want to risk anything that would make my insurance discharge me prematurely. Friday, I see my psychiatrist, after seeing the psychiatrist at PHP on Thursday… but they can’t do the shot at PHP, so I have to go to my doctor. I’m kind of think I’m getting burnt out on psych treatment, but I’m scared if I give up on it, that I’ll just end up right where I was, in the depths of depression, having flashbacks and trauma lead me to the brink of suicide and without having some sort of more intense treatment than just my psychiatrist and my regular, once a week therapist, I wouldn’t have anything to prevent me from doing it or get in the way of completing if I went through with it. The only reason the second attempt wasn’t successful was because the therapist at PHP called the police for a welfare check. I was supposed to be there, and I didn’t answer the phone when he called. Knowing that I was suicidal, the clinic requires certain action, and that is what he did.

Now, I’ll admit, I’m having suicidal thoughts now, and I kind of always have a plan of how I would do it in the back of my mind that comes forefront when the thoughts pick back up. The question is always whether there is intent or not. That is where the PHP therapist and I make the distinction of safety. He’s okay with me having thoughts, and he’s relatively okay with me having a plan, and even a small amount of intent. As long as I can contract for safety for that night, until the next morning or until the next day of group, he’s okay with me going home. Okay and comfortable may be two different things, however. He lets me leave, but I don’t know what is going through his head, if he’s worried about whether I’ll be there the next day, if he made the right decision, if he should have trusted me again. Twice now, he’s trusted me, and I betrayed that trust and attempted suicide instead of going to group. I could have gone to group; I could have called the PHP clinic, or my individual therapist or psychiatrist, or even simply answered the phone when he called me; I could have gone to the emergency room and told them what I was planning or just gone to the psych hospital and walked in for an assessment; I could have done a lot of things. Instead, I attempted suicide twice, when he trusted my word that I was okay to go home and would be back the next day. The first time, I didn’t know I was going to attempt, but I knew it was only going to take a feather to knock me over the edge. The second time, I had been planning it for days, so when he outright asked me if I was safe to leave or if I needed to go to the hospital, I lied to his face. Straight up lied. Monday, when he asked his safety question at the end of the third group, I admitted to active thoughts with a plan, and he asked if I was going to attempt that night or this morning. I said no, and he asked “what about Friday?” because I had already told him I had to be out Friday too, for appointments. I said no again, and he kind of laughed and said that he was making jokes, with the Friday comment, although I kind of think he really wasn’t joking, since I had already told him that I had planned the December attempt out several days ahead and didn’t tell anyone and lied to him about it. It makes me think that every time I admit to having suicidal thoughts, it worries him. And probably the whole staff at the clinic.

Both attempts scared the staff at the clinic, my psychiatrist and individual therapist. Obviously, no mental health professional wants to lose a client. I can’t even imagine what that would be like on them. Family has one relationship with the person, friends have another type of relationship, but the relationship with the professionals that have been trying to help is a different kind. All to often, they know more about what has been going on with the person than friends and family do. There are things in my life that I’ve talked about with my psychiatrist and therapist and the people at PHP that I haven’t been able to say to most of my friends and definitely can’t say to my family. Sometimes, it feels like the professionals know me better than my friends or family do… that sounds weird, probably. Some things are nearly impossible to talk about. At least, it seems that way. It takes a lot of building up courage to get the words to come out of my mouth and then as soon as they do, I wish I could take them back immediately… even though, most of the time, everyone responds well to whatever I tell them that I’ve been afraid to say, thinking that I’ll be judged. Family and friends, when someone dies, will obviously have to grieve that loss. Most people don’t even consider that the mental health professionals, who have been trying to help someone, will also have to deal with the loss of the patient that commits suicide. There are bound to be a lot of complicated thoughts and feelings that would come up for them. What could they have done differently? Did they miss something? Could they have done more? Inadequecy, fear, grief, guilt, but in the midst of all of this, they have other patients that they have to treat, and they have to keep working.

But, speaking from my own experience, that doesn’t even cross my mind when I’m in that dark place. Friends, family… no one else really matters to me. Nothing matters except ending the pain. Escaping from this endless torture… If I can still think about how it affects other people, and use that as a deterrent, then I’m less likely to act on the thoughts. My friends, and how my death would affect them, has always been the one thing that has kept me going… it is when that doesn’t matter anymore that I am in the most danger. When ending the pain and torture is more important to me than any other thing… those are the times I have tried to die.

Well, I think I have rambled long enough. It is 2 am, and this blog has become a massive, jumbled mess of thoughts… if you made it this far, congratulations and thank you! I hope to see you again soon!

Well, it’s the middle of the night…

… and I’ll give you three guesses.

Number OneI can’t sleep.

Well done!

Number Two I want to self-harm.

You’re two for two…

Number ThreeI’m sitting on my front porch, writing again.

Got ’em all!!!


I’m not sure if writing is really going to prevent me from hurting myself, but it will at least postpone it. Maybe long enough that I can just go to bed… that’s the hope anyway.

I want to make it through the weekend and go back to PHP having not hurt myself. That’s the goal right now.

I was feeling good for most of last week. Then the weekend hit, and I crashed. I slept most of Saturday. Mom woke me up at 4:30pm, saying dinner would be ready in 15 minutes. I was completely confused. I didn’t understand how it was so late. We ate dinner, then I took a 3 hr nap and got up at 9pm. I went to bed again around midnight or 1am. I was really only out of bed for around 6 hours on Saturday…

I’ve been working on school work for most of today, with breaks thrown in. I got two assignments done and turned in. There’s only one more that was due Tuesday, but I’m not going to be able to finish it in time. I’m just happy I got the other two done, and can start working on the last one tomorrow, hopefully. I want to have something started when I go to class on Tuesday. I’ve been stressing out over this class for a while now. I feel like I’m so far behind but I know that there are others in the class that are in the same boat I am, if not farther behind. I just can’t help but feel like I am going to fail, even though I have a high B with what has been graded so far. My brain keeps telling me I am doing horribly, that I am not a good artist and I should just give up.

That’s just my self-esteem trying to get the best of me. I’m not going to let it win, not this time. I’m going to keep going, and I’m going to keep trying, and I’m going to get this degree and get a job in this field. So there.

Thanks for reading and I hope to see you again soon!

Best Quotes Encouragement Funny Faith 70+ Ideas

Found Here


 

I apologize for not writing sooner. The partial hospitalization program and school, together, have been kicking my butt. Those, plus other appointments getting squeezed in as best I can, I’ve barely had time to sleep, it seems. I want to write at least a couple times a week and I’ve been seriously failing at that. I need to get on the ball…

At the moment, I’m sitting on my front porch, enjoying a slight breeze, listening to rock ballads from my day.  That makes me sound old… I’m not old. I’m 36 years old. Call Me by Shinedown is currently playing. It played Skillet earlier, and Three Days Grace. So not really too old stuff, just not too current either. Back when music actually had meaning and wasn’t all about drugs and sex. Sure, some of it was, but even those songs were more than all drugs and sex. There was still a point to the lyrics.

The only bad part about sitting out here is the bugs. They are attracted to the porch light and the light from the screen of my laptop. And for some reason, tend to fly at my face… I wish there were a way to create a world without bugs. Not possible, I know… bugs serve a purpose. They all do something for the ecosystem in one way or another. Just getting rid of an entire species of insect could offset the balance in a way that we couldn’t even really understand yet.

I digress. I had a point I wanted to talk about when I started writing and music and bugs are not it.

So, let me get to my point…

The medicine seems to be working. I’m not depressed. I’m not psychotic. Well, I can kind of hear the demons talking but it’s so quiet that I can’t make out any of the words, and I’m not seeing them at all. So, I don’t count that as psychotic, compared to where I was. I’m past thinking that Satan is trying to influence me into killing myself.

My mood started getting better when the doctor added a mood stabilizer and then got even better when he changed one of my antidepressants. The only thing that worries me is that I have been itching for a week and a half, and that is about how long I have been on the new antidepressant. I’ve taken it before, a while back, and didn’t have a reaction to it then, so it’s possible I’m reacting to something else.

The nurse at PHP mentioned that my seasonal allergies could be making me itch, that that happens sometimes. I’ve also recently had to change laundry detergent, and that change could just now be catching up to me. The new one is still perfume- and dye-free, but I may just not be able to use that brand. We bought some of the kind that I used to get, but they stopped making it in powder, so we had to get liquid. I’ve never used liquid detergent, so here comes a bit of a learning curve. I have to do laundry tomorrow.

I haven’t been depressed for over a week and it feels good. I’ve only self-harmed once in the last 18 days. Which for me is amazing! I self-harmed on the 8th and then the 22nd. Thirteen days in between without a trip to the emergency room. One of the goals for my treatment plan for PHP was to go 2 weeks straight without needing to go to the emergency room for self-harm. The therapist was nervous about that one because he didn’t want the goal to prevent me from going if I needed to go. I was able to reassure him that I wouldn’t let it do that. As shone by going to the ER on the 13th day. I am still proud of those 13 days!

I guess I’m just worried that the psychiatrist is going to have to take me off the new antidepressant because of the itching, even though it is working really well. I really don’t want to have to change it to something else, that may not work as well, if at all. It’s so hard to find medications that work for me, and that keep working for a while. That’s part of the reason I lose hope a lot of the time. The meds never keep working for very long. Then finding a medication combination that does work is near impossible. When we finally do, it stops working after a while, too. I’ve always been like this. Treatment-resistant.

On top of all of that on my mind, I am slightly behind in my class. I have 2 little assignments and one larger assignment that need to be done by Tuesday. It’s okay if I haven’t finished all 3, but I really need to try.

And on that note, I’m going to call this blog done… thanks for reading and I hope to see you again!

And to top it all off…

I’ve been having some sharp pain in my shoulder for a while now. I had a few shots into the joint, but they didn’t last very long at all. The last shot I got lasted all of two days. I called the doctor’s office, and the nurse practitioner that I see regularly decided to send me for an MRI of my shoulder.

I managed to get that done two days later, on Friday. First off, I hate closed-in spaces. I start to panic. Somehow, I still managed to stay still even in the middle of a panic attack. I almost squeezed the little ball they gave me that would signal them to come and get me out. I tried controlling my breathing and just counting my breaths when I would start to panic. It didn’t completely fix it, but it did make it manageable. That is all I could ask for at the time, really.

The appointment for the MRI was the last one on Friday; 4:30 pm. I was actually surprised when I got a call midday yesterday, from the doctor’s office. The nurse on the phone relayed that I have a possible tear in the glenoid labrum of my right shoulder. They are referring me to an orthopedist. Usually, when they refer out, it means you need surgery… I really hope I don’t. I really, really hope I don’t. I saw my mom go through a shoulder replacement, and I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. I don’t know if I would even have surgery if they told me I needed it. That’s how much I don’t want to have shoulder surgery. Only having the use of one arm is not fun. I saw it with my mother. You are practically useless. Can’t get dressed, can’t prepare food or carry anything really, can’t pull up your own pants after using the restroom. It would be utterly humiliating having to have someone help me do everything. And I do mean everything.

I just have to make an appointment with the orthopedist, and see what they say. I also have a back up one, for a second opinion, if I need it.

With this, on top of everything else going on, I am so ready to just give up. I’m totally surprised I made it through the night without hurting myself. I didn’t sleep. The demons were too loud and I just couldn’t shut my brain off. Might have a little bit of mania or a mixed episode sneaking in there with the depression and psychosis. Satan wants me to kill myself and is using my demons to try to get me to do it. He is telling them what to say and do, and implanting images that are more than disturbing. I’m stronger than that, at least right now. I can withstand the onslaught that the evil forces are throwing at me. If it gets to the point that I can’t, I will go to the hospital. But I need to stay out of the hospital. I need to be able to go to and participate in class. It’s important that I be there. I’ve skipped one day because I was having a really hard day. I am tempted to skip today. I’m exhausted from not sleeping last night, and I have to go to HEB at some point today as well. Mom needs sodas, as well as a card and gift card for a friend. I just don’t know what I would tell mom for why I’m home early, or the excuse I would give the professor.

I’m just getting overwhelmed…

Thanks for reading and I hope to see you again soon!