Too tired for titles*

*A post marked with an asterick means I will be discussing suicide to some extent.

I don't know what this means but I am feeling sleepy tonight.  I am praying that I may actually get a whole night of sleep.  Since last night was bad this would be a very good thing.

Funny thing is that I think I feel better because of something that happened when I saw Dr. Mind.  I finally, finally was able to say that although the suicidal thoughts continue I no longer think that I am going to do anything harmful, that I think about it but don't have the same strong urge to do whatever I am thinking about that I had before.  I am positive that this will come and go for a long time and that some of the change in how I feel is related to a lot of mood swings and feelings I am not used to because it has been a long, long time since I left horribly depressed.  We talked a lot today about that form I had to fill out for SSDI and the one Dr. Mind has to fill out as well.  He carefully but gently cautioned me that this would be at a low level of function.  I told him that filling out mine had only made me realize exactly how sick I am and that I've been too sick to even notice things like I forget to eat lunch half the time, my social skills don't exist, and there were very few issues which I did not have to mark as a problem.  Pretty much I can feed myself and go to the bathroom and I don't have issues with lifting, reaching, etc. (unless you count my very undignified loss of balance and landing in a laundry basket that I struggled to get out of last night).  That's it.  Ten pages of that is humbling.  So Dr. Mind is concerned I won't like what he writes and in reality it can't be worse than I wrote.

We talked a bit about my arts and crafts project and how I think other people see me, the part of the project that is about done.  That led to discussion of how even though I know that I am the person food stamps were designed for I still feel weird and am aware of how mean people can be about them.  A friend posted on facebook the day I was verbally approved something about how good it is we can take advantage of things like that if needed.  It didn't mention me, but it was for me.  I posted "thanks".  Someone else posted under that this diatribe about people who don't want to work having a way to cop-out.  I held my temper, barely, and only because I'm not ready to share all of this with the entire world.

After that was the most bone-chilling thing I have ever heard.  We talked again about how hard it is to see such enormous changes, and that I find parts of this even more hard than they might have because while I knew that the end of my career would likely come earlier than I hoped I didn't really know the system and so I had no idea about the part where I'd not have income for months, the messed up insurance issues, and that I would find myself gratefully accepting what I believe is the top level of food stamps, with a pending on hold until spend-down and I figure things out Medicaid application, and knowing other programs will be helping me in the months to come.  I don't know how I thought it worked but not in the cruel, degrading way that it does.  So I said something about being glad that I had that hospitalization at Christmas with time to adjust to the idea that I was in fact quite suicidal and oh.my.God. I wasn't going to be able to work anymore and did I mention not being able to work?, and that we were prepared for unsafe behaviors since the day before I left the hospital.  I said something about it was so hard anyway and if all of it had hit at once it would have been even harder, which I can't imagine.  Dr. Mind told me gently but very seriously that he thinks if I had not had that hospitalization I very likely would have killed myself.

I knew that this was taken seriously.  It was in the hospital except that they thought I was over it by the time I went home.  My drs. both did not agree and that led to all the safety measures.  I knew by how carefully Dr. Mind makes sure I don't take the keys to my locked med box and generally that he doesn't see me sticking full bottles of stuff into my bad, as well as the part where have nothing sharper than a steak knife in my house over 2 months later.  I knew and know that Dr. Mind has put enormous amounts of time into helping me and that he's essentially been a phone call away for all this time.  I knew he was worried.  It wasn't until today that I realized I have scared him.  I thought my own fear was exaggerrated.  I was wrong apparently.  And so now I have two doctors who have saved my life several times over.

I just really pray that I've improved enough to be allowed something more sedating so that I can sleep every night, at night.  I can't even remember what sleeping the way you're supposed to feels like.  That's been one of the more difficult aspects of this, everyone has been very aware that I know enough about meds to be lethal.  Not that it's hard to find out but I don't have to look up or think hard and I can come up with a very bad combination.  So they've made it harder, and I still was so high risk.  Which may return tomorrow but this new perspective is strange.

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