Should be doing.

The other day I set myself a few goals for the day. Change all the clocks, take a shower, do laundry, read something, clean up (at least do the kitchen), order firewood, or blow the leaves away with the leaf blower. Well, of course, I haven’t done any of these things. I want to. I really, seriously do. But, before I know it, it’s 10 pm and predictably I ain’t done shit.

I’m not really sure what I do all day. I can’t nap. I can’t concentrate long enough to read anything but a few blogs. I don’t have a job or, for that matter, any real responsibilities or expectations of me.

Actually, I can forgive myself for last week as I spent the majority of it in the throes of suicidal ideation. But, I didn’t die and now i’m thinking I should try to do the things I should be doing.

It’s 11 am and I’ve managed to change one clock. Yea.

Yesterday I went to my weekly session with D. I was a wee bit anxious as I had cancelled last week and failed to respond to his text asking me if things were OK (They weren’t).

His first few questions concerned me though.
“Were you in the hospital last November?
“Uh, no”.
“Do you think you should start taking your meds. again?”
“Uh, in my experience, meds. don’t help me feel better. Different, but not better.”
“And you’re not seeing any doctors.”
“Yep.”
I wondered where he was going with this.

When I told him I didn’t respond to his text because I didn’t want to deal with his questions or take his advice he accepted it graciously, professionally. When I told him i’d broken a blood vessel in my eye due to puking, he asked “overdose?” “Yes, alcohol.” Bastard, knows me fairly well.

When he suggested that I would have talked to him if it had been a crisis, I got brave and told him that, in fact, it had been a crisis-like situation and I chose to handle it by rejecting any and all help. I let it play out as it wanted. I told him I had been visiting suicide websites, worked on my will, and wrote a letter for my relatives. Still he kept a cool, nonchalant demeanor. Good boy.

All in all, the session went fairly well. I was relieved that he didn’t seem mad at me. Still, I felt the transference when, as a “doorknob question”, I asked him, like a 4 year old would – “What would you have done or said if I had told the truth?”
“Well, I would have asked you some questions and made sure you were in a safe place.” (translation : locked up)

Lastly, “You wouldn’t ever call the cops on me, would you?” “In twenty years I’ve only done that once.” Hmmm. But he didn’t really say no.

Doc.

Still

…here.

Despite spending the last week or so preoccupied with thoughts of death and self-destruction, I (uncharacteristically) made an effort and joined my sister, brother-in-law and their friends for some camping time on the farm. Most of them were my BIL’s friends, some with kids, who come down to the farm to ride dirt bikes and 4-wheelers.

One of the jobs on the to do list this weekend was to burn the huge pile of trees and construction debris. So far, the new barn and most of the garage is built. So by nightfall all the kids had gone home, the fire was in full blaze, and we started smoking pot and drinking moonshine.

The time change back to Standard time has really thrown me this year. By 6 pm I was getting quite intoxicated and couldn’t imagine how I was going to last another 3 or 4 hours before I could gracefully escape to the camper to crash. (Too chilly for the tent.)

The 5 or 6 friends who were also camping overnight are good people. We had built a separate fire in the fire pit and after burning some chicken on the grill, we ate and resumed (intensified) our efforts to become senselessly and hilariously plastered. Poor R, who had the bad judgment to be the first to become falling down drunk – “I’m drinking Jack and ginger, without the ginger” – soon became the target of our pranks. After falling in the field twice trying to get to his SUV where he planned to sleep in comfort and lots of sleeping bags, we graciously, as one does for drunken comrades, assisted him into the back of the vehicle. And back to the fire we went.

Unfortunately for R, some idiot (me) suggested we fuck with him. So, over to his SUV we staggered and in unison started to rock it from side to side. As anyone who has every had a wee bit too much to drink may recall, this kind of motion is often not well tolerated. It pissed him off.

No matter, we were amused and so, after 10 or 15 minutes ’round the fire, we decided to repeat our little joke. We did this 3 more times. One of the guys videoed the last time on his smart phone which consisted mostly of him telling us to fuck off while we laughed and KJr. kept yelling at the top of his lungs – “It’s hump day Ralphie boy!” Drunk motherfuckers.

Personally, I lasted until about midnight when a sudden wave of dizziness and profuse sweating occurred. I made it to a picnic bench when I collapsed and proceeded to puke up everything i’d eaten for the last 2 weeks. (I think it was the ‘shine.)

But, as it always seems to do, morning came, I wasn’t especially hungover, and we all had a nice breakfast and tried to remember the night before.

Today, I awoke with a sub-conjunctival hemorrhage in my right eye from the effort of puking. It looks dreadful but doesn’t hurt. I am going to try and find the energy to get a shower (it’s been about 2 weeks), wash some clothes (ditto), find out why I haven’t received my December mortgage statement, and finally turn ALL the clocks back to the correct time.

Doc.

Anticipanoia

… is worrying about things you expect to happen.

“You’re not important enough for his valuable time.”

I cancelled my weekly therapy appt. for today by text. “I’m not coming in friday”.

D texted back “Are you okay?”.

I was going to answer him. When I tried to, I could NOT figure out what was the best answer.

“Yes.” – this is a lie. Would he recognize this as such?

“No.” this is mostly true. But I’ve been worse.

“Not really. Probably not.” The real truth. But here’s where anticipanoia comes into play.
If I tell D i’m not OK, what possible outcomes could occur? By history I know first hand how badly things can go if you admit to certain things.

I am afraid to tell him or anyone of my having persistent themes of thought (death) this week.
I am afraid of the sheriffs dept. showing up at my door (happened a couple of times before), i am afraid of him calling my sister, i am afraid of ending up hospitalized.

I turned my cellphone off after i read his question because i could not handle any of his questions.
Embarrassingly, this morning I’ve felt abandoned and unworthy of anyones’ attention because he didn’t reach out to me again. No call or text. To see if i’m still alive or willing to talk.
The voice in my head keeps repeating “you’re not important enough for his valuable time”.
I guess he just assumes i’m alive and that i’ll turn up next week. Am i? Will i?

I hate these fucking mind (my) games. Sorry D.

Doc

11/12/13

While writing a letter earlier today I noticed the date. I decided then to write a post today with the date as the title. (tiny numbers freak)

I’ve been planning this week. I’m not sure why now. Nothing is really different.

I already knew how and where. I have what I need. I haven’t decided on when.

I still need to make an appointment with a lawyer to create and validate my will.

I still need to cancel my Friday appt. with D (therapist). Will do this Thursday. I have to remember another time when I was honest with former therapist and was tricked into coming to her office to “talk” and ended up being removed by state troopers to the ER and involuntarily committed by a judge.

I have already been accepted into the Anatomy Gifts Registry to donate my body after death.

I’m happy with my letter. And the date.

Doc

Hatred

I hate myself – an affirmation not a revelation.

I’m here at my mom’s taking care of her after her lung cancer surgery. Try as I can, I simply cannot seem to sit and make small talk with her or anyone else. There’s just nothing in my head. I’m sure that they have noticed but are too timid to question me on it. But, I’ve certainly noticed. I’m trying NOT to become the patient.

I recently bought 2 books from people I’ve met through their blogs – Hyperbole & 1/2 and Funny in the Head. I was so excited when they arrived in the mail. But, typically, I have no concentration and have only read about 10 pages. I hate when I can’t focus.

I’ve wanted a digital camera for over a year now. Last week I stopped in Best Buy and bought a new Canon T3i DSLR camera. It’s still in the bag. I want to read about it and learn how to use it but so far, it ain’t happening.

I also have strong urges to self harm. But, I promised myself I would not do anything while i’m here. But, I know I probably will the minute I get home.

So far today, the cactus spine stuck under/in my scalp is not really painful. I’m hoping it continues that way.

Because i’m a shit daughter, i’m counting the hours until I can get in my truck and go home. Thank goodness for my kind and gentle sister-in-law. I’ll be leaving her behind to continue to care for my mom and step-father. Thanks, S.

Doc

Mom, et al

We brought my mom home from the hospital 4 days ago. She had her right lower lobe (lung) removed because of a mass diagnosed as adenocarcinoma. It was thankfully able to be removed using video assist thereby avoiding an open thoracotomy. She also has issues with her heart rhythm (atrial fib.), blood pressure problems, and poor body condition – BMI @ 17. The tumor was grade 1 which means no known lymph node involvement and no (known) metastasis. According to Wikipedia (I think) this carries a 5 year survival rate of 50 to 80%. So, that’s pretty good.

Her post-op course has, so far, been fairly uneventful. The biggest problem for her has been constipation. So, she has been overly cautious with her pain control(oxycodone) because of her fear of an impaction. She had a bout of bowel obstruction about 2 months ago which necessitated an NG tube and numerous enemas so, she is probably justified in trying to avoid a narcotic induced repeat. The problem with her immediate post-op constipation has been her reluctance to eat anything approaching a normal number of calories never mind enough calories to heal and prevent infection. Luckily on day 2 of being home, the magnesium citrate did it’s job and my sister-in-law and myself have been trying to feed her. She’s very resistant to eating (WHY?) and I’ve come to realize how hard it must be for everyone(patient included) to deal with an eating disorder. In my head i’m screaming “just fucking eat”. But, it’s my mom, so I can’t get too narky with her.

My sister-in-law(SIL) has been so caring and giving. She’s been here for weeks taking care of both her and my step-father who has dementia. I was asked by her and my brother to come and take care of mom primarily while SIL focuses on my step-father to try and reduce his confusion and distress. He’d come completely undone if anything happens to mom. So, i’m planning to stay another 3 days, if all continues fairly well. Honestly, i’m starting to feel unwell and I hope I can keep it together for a few more days.

To be honest (and i’m deeply ashamed) I have been eyeing her narcotic pain relievers with evil intent. Once a narcotic fan (abuser) probably always one. BUT, I have been very firm with myself (in my head) and have decided not to steal any of her pills. God, i’m such a shit for even thinking about it.

Luckily, I never travel anywhere without pot. Just need to stay strong.

Personally, I’ve been feeling more and more depressed. Starting to need isolation, not that there’s much happening around here. But I need to just be alone and vegitate. Wolf has been whispering to me to “kill yourself today”. Or “swallow a pushpin”. Or “cut”. I feel the urge to comply but won’t do anything while i’m here. After a few weeks of feeling pretty good and having ideas and energy (?hypomania?) i’m starting to feel the familiar slide into gloom. I hate knowing what is coming. Just need to last a couple more days and then I can go home. I have an appt. with D on Friday. We missed last week’s appt. because he took off.

To make things worse, yesterday my SIL and I moved a huge barrel cactus inside for the winter. I had a vision that I would fall into the damned thing and puncture an eyeball. Luckily that didn’t happen (and I didn’t mention my premonition) because i
did manage to bump into the thing with my head and a spine broke off in my scalp and imbeded itself there. Man, that was painful! Couldn’t find the spine but I can feel something catching and “clicking” in my head when I move certain muscles (smiling). Hopefully, it will work itself out soon.

Anyway, it’s now 930 am so I better try and get my shit together and start my nursing duties.

Doc