tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15394696989031896602024-03-13T16:57:52.490+00:00Taking the StairsIn 2007, my life was changed forever by a car accident, which left me in constant pain.
Living with pain is like climbing a perpetual staircase - no matter how hard you try, you never reach the top.Bandithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211747429891528053noreply@blogger.comBlogger901125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1539469698903189660.post-85524256874583068542015-10-13T18:15:00.001+01:002015-10-13T18:15:05.017+01:00Wanting to die I haven't posted on here in years. Not because everything was ok, just because I couldn't cope with this on top of everything else.<br />
<br />
I'm doing a PhD now. I'm in the data analysis phase and then I just have to write it up. I'm loving this phase, which is a good job. Because the back pain is so bad today that if I didn't want to finish the PhD, I would have killed myself today. Nothing is helping, no meds, nothing.<br />
<br />
I still might kill myself. If the desire to finish the PhD drops just a tiny bit, that'll be it.<br />
<br />
Then, finally, I'll get some relief.Bandithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211747429891528053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1539469698903189660.post-36518379053401512022013-08-20T21:14:00.001+01:002013-08-20T21:14:32.982+01:00It's a long long time since I've written here. Things got a bit better for a while, then when they got worse again I didn't want to talk. <br><br>But I'm suicidal again. I came very close to killing myself on Saturday because the pain was unbearable. And now I want to again m, because I'm supposed to be going on a trip in a couple of months and I don't see how I can. I'm utterly terrified and I just want to die. Irish I wasn't such a coward, I wish I could just do it. <br><br>How much more am I meant to take?<p class='blogium-promo'><small>Posted from <a href="http://totocaster.com/blogium/">Blogium</a> for iPhone</small></p>Bandithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211747429891528053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1539469698903189660.post-31383842504629308032012-11-14T23:33:00.001+00:002012-11-14T23:33:45.405+00:00I told the doc I'm not going back to the pain clinic again, because of their attitude over the morphine and their insistence on me reducing them, according to their schedule. <br><br>He was already not happy with the way the morphine's gone back up lately, even though it's still less than before. <br><br>I'm pretty sure he's going to cut me off soon. Then I can die, because I can't bear this pain with no relief at all. I half wish he'd just get on with it, and put me out of my misery<p class='blogium-promo'><small>Posted from <a href="http://totocaster.com/blogium/">Blogium</a> for iPhone</small></p>Bandithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211747429891528053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1539469698903189660.post-41816437344522925592012-11-14T22:34:00.001+00:002012-11-14T22:37:05.595+00:00I don't know why I'm stressing so much about getting a job, trying to find all sorts of ways to make money, trying to sort my phd. I already know how it's going to end. I've always known. The money will run out, I'll have nowhere to live and rather than live on the streets, in pain, without medication, I'll kill myself. I told the doctor today that I can think of little else. Since its going to happen anyway, I might just as well stop worrying. Live as long as the money lasts and at least be stress-free. Then die. <p class='blogium-promo'><small>Posted from <a href="http://totocaster.com/blogium/">Blogium</a> for iPhone</small></p>Bandithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211747429891528053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1539469698903189660.post-53956126122291906752012-11-13T19:39:00.001+00:002012-11-13T19:39:31.894+00:00If I can't even get a second interview for what is essentially my old job, just a different company, then I have no hope. <br><br>I'm starting to think they've been slagging me off behind my back. <br><br>I can probably survive a year, then I'll be out on the streets. I can't cope with this pain in those conditions. <br><br>So, a year to live. I wish it would just hurry up and happen now. <p class='blogium-promo'><small>Posted from <a href="http://totocaster.com/blogium/">Blogium</a> for iPhone</small></p>Bandithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211747429891528053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1539469698903189660.post-77415640026831395022012-11-05T22:10:00.001+00:002012-11-05T22:10:46.510+00:00I feel utterly hated. <br> <br><br>I can't get a job because no-one likes me enough to hire me; men on the Internet dating site just fuck off after a few questions; my solicitor and old employer are still fucking me around. <br><br>I don't understand why everyone hates me so much. I don't know what I ever did to deserve this. I'm trying so hard to do the right things - to get a job, to find a partner. And instead I'm still stuck at home, all by myself, in agony. My savings are draining away and then what?<br><br>I had to have blood tests last week to try and find out why my beautiful hair is falling out. I really really hope it comes back with something fatal. But even that's never going to fucking happen, I'll just get left here to rot. I want to die. Please. <p class='blogium-promo'><small>Posted from <a href="http://totocaster.com/blogium/">Blogium</a> for iPhone</small></p>Bandithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211747429891528053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1539469698903189660.post-27783708005563264612012-05-29T02:02:00.001+01:002012-05-29T02:02:12.969+01:00Lightbulbs. Psychological lightbulbs. And suddenly it all makes sense. <p class='blogium-promo'><small>Posted from <a href="http://totocaster.com/blogium/">Blogium</a> for iPhone</small></p>Bandithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211747429891528053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1539469698903189660.post-76653381471482892432012-05-16T10:44:00.001+01:002012-05-16T10:44:08.942+01:00I actually got a proper night's sleep - the first time in over a year!<p class='blogium-promo'><small>Posted from <a href="http://totocaster.com/blogium/">Blogium</a> for iPhone</small></p>Bandithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211747429891528053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1539469698903189660.post-374675553939535942012-05-15T00:59:00.001+01:002012-05-15T00:59:11.749+01:00I think I made an important connection today. I need to test it more before I put it up here, but it could be pivotal. <br><br>That's the up-side. The down-side is that I couldn't remember whether I'd taken my bedtime dose of quick release morphine. I wasted half an hour convincing myself I must have taken it, worrying that I couldn't feel anything then counting every pill to find out (luckily I did an inventory last nite, so I could easily work it out). <br><br>By the time I was certain I hadn't taken it, I was 40 minutes late with it. Which meant the pain had had an extra 40 minutes to build up, which meant it now isn't doing much. And so I've just had to take a bigger top-up dose than I would've liked. And since my levels are already too high, I'm not happy. <p class='blogium-promo'><small>Posted from <a href="http://totocaster.com/blogium/">Blogium</a> for iPhone</small></p>Bandithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211747429891528053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1539469698903189660.post-15845472799020544802012-05-13T00:02:00.001+01:002012-05-13T00:02:50.988+01:00The therapist says she didn't mean to suggest that she thinks there's nothing more she can do. I felt her saying last week that when we started, there used to be a slight uptick in how I felt straight after a session, then it would get worse again, and now it just constantly getting worse, meant she felt we were out of options. <br><br>She said that's not what she meant; she put some positive spin on it that I didn't understand. She said she still thinks therapy could help and as long as I'm willing to keep going - which must therefore mean I'm still hopeful - so is she. I said I'm not hopeful, I just have no other choice. <br><br>This session didn't reduce me to tears, only a bit of crying, and set me off thinking about some more useful stuff. But whether it will ever help the pain - whether I even have that much time - remains to be seen. <p class='blogium-promo'><small>Posted from <a href="http://totocaster.com/blogium/">Blogium</a> for iPhone</small></p>Bandithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211747429891528053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1539469698903189660.post-53872303250949419732012-05-08T12:17:00.001+01:002012-05-08T12:17:34.095+01:00I've just realised something. I've recognised for a long time that my ex-long-term boyfriend, R, raped me. I woke up in the middle of the night to find him having sex with me (literally, he was already half way through). <br><br>I didn't see it as rape at the time because I thought rape only happened when you said 'no'. But my friend made me realise last year that 'rape' is the absence of saying yes. And I definitely didn't say yes. Just like I didn't say yes to the date rape (which was what I was actually talking to my friend about). <br><br>But I've just remembered - that wasn't the first time R did that to me. There was another, very early on. I didn't want to have sex and I'd said no several times, but he took no notice. I gave up saying no, because it wasn't getting me anywhere. And he carried on and did it anyway. I didn't keep fighting, but I didn't say yes. I never thought of it as rape before, because I'd stopped saying no, but really it was, I realise that now. <br><br>So that makes three - R twice, plus the date rape. They say that abuse victims are more likely to suffer subsequent sexual assaults. They're already conditioned to not be able to fight back, they feel they have no right to say no and that they deserve that kind of treatment. I case I'm a textbook case<p class='blogium-promo'><small>Posted from <a href="http://totocaster.com/blogium/">Blogium</a> for iPhone</small></p>Bandithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211747429891528053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1539469698903189660.post-76496703514774228592012-05-07T22:41:00.001+01:002012-05-07T22:46:41.501+01:00DrivingWell, it looks like the government is setting a deadline for my suicide. <br><br>The new drug driving laws announced today and due in force at the end of the year, will mark the end for me. They're going to arbitrarily set a limit of controlled drugs that you can have in your system, just like they do with drink. <br><br>Morphine is a controlled drug, so this will apply to me. I'm alone, I have noone to drive me around. And if there's no flexibility for chemical tolerance - ie if you take something everyday for years, it will take far more of it to have any effect on cognition or coordination - then I will be unable to drive. I'll be trapped at home, unable to get food, medication, unable to get to the doctor.<br><br>The current rules are that you can't drive if you feel impaired by the medication, and I never do. I do the sobriety tests every time before I get in the car, to be sure I'm as safe as possible. But that's not going to apply any more. Now it's going to be a flat how-much-have-you-taken. <br><br>With how badly the therapy has been going and how much worse everything has become, I've wondered just how long I should wait before taking the final step. Someone recently asked if I'd put a deadline on it, but I haven't. Hadn't. <br><br>It looks like the government now has. So if the pain is still so bad that I'm on shedloads of morphine when these rules come in, that's it. I'd have been doing this therapy for a year by then, and if it hasn't worked, it's probably not going to. <br><br>So. Seven months, give or take. <p class='blogium-promo'><small>Posted from <a href="http://totocaster.com/blogium/">Blogium</a> for iPhone</small></p>Bandithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211747429891528053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1539469698903189660.post-73129357683191505472012-05-04T12:47:00.001+01:002012-05-04T12:47:15.979+01:00I just had to have my therapy session in the car because the pain exploded and I couldn't move. Never mind getting upstairs to her consulting room, I couldn't get out of the car. it's taken me hours to get home and still I can't move for the pain. <br><br>I think the therapist is about ready to give up on me. She was talking about how things used to seem to improve a bit after each appointment and now they're just getting worse. I think she's going to tell me she can't help me any more. <br><br>I can't start with anyone else. If she couldn't help me, I don't believe anyone can. I think this is it. I don't want to die but I really think this is it. <p class='blogium-promo'><small>Posted from <a href="http://totocaster.com/blogium/">Blogium</a> for iPhone</small></p>Bandithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211747429891528053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1539469698903189660.post-34652463865004113232012-04-27T22:25:00.001+01:002012-04-27T22:25:44.988+01:00Today's therapy session was without question the worst one I've had. <br><br>All I can say about it is I didn't throw the box of tissues at her, I didn't start screaming and I didn't walk out or tell her to fuck it, all of which I wanted to do. <br><br>I also didn't come home and slit my wrists, which seemed the only possible outcome. <p class='blogium-promo'><small>Posted from <a href="http://totocaster.com/blogium/">Blogium</a> for iPhone</small></p>Bandithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211747429891528053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1539469698903189660.post-26974919454350500162012-04-24T01:48:00.001+01:002012-04-24T01:48:34.073+01:00Diary extractThis isn't going to end. I want to b dead. I hate myself for creating the pain. I hate the pain and I hate me for creating it. I should have just killed myself when when things first got really bad. When I first wanted to do it. I should have just done it then. I'm a coward that I didn't just do it right then. Or last year, when the anniversary was so bad. I said I wasn't going to be here for another anniversary, yet look what tommorrow is. WHY CAN'T I JUST FUCKING KILL MYSELF AND BE DONE WITH THIS FUCKING MISERY? I hate the pain and I hate myself for creating it. What kind of a fucking freak am I that THAT was the best thing my subconscious could come up with to deal with my problems. I want to die. Plz just make the pain stop. Please. I want to beat the fucking shit out of myself for creating this fucking pain. Punching myself over n over in the shoulder 'I fucking hate you. Let me go.'<p class='blogium-promo'><small>Posted from <a href="http://totocaster.com/blogium/">Blogium</a> for iPhone</small></p>Bandithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211747429891528053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1539469698903189660.post-4534530562196985592012-04-21T01:36:00.001+01:002012-04-21T01:36:35.292+01:00I'm in hideous, excruciating agony and I have been for days. I have t slept since I don't-know-when. I drugged myself into insensibility yesterday and it still didn't help the pain. I'm a hair's breadth from ending it all. <br><br>The therapy session today was the worst one yet, because this time I felt like she had no idea what I was on about. And what she's suggesting I need to do - to basically change my whole fucking personality before there's any chance of the pain stopping - I don't have the strength. I don't even know where to start. <br><br>I want to sob my heart out but it hurts too fucking much. I can't do this and I don't want to. There's no point. Why go through all this, to still be in pain? I might just as well kill myself now. I really really want to. You have no idea how much I want to just slit my throat. Ear to ear, and that would be it. I don't know what I'm living for as it is - no job, no life. I want to die, right now. I just want to die. Please just fucking kill me now. I'd give anything for someone to just kill me right now. <p class='blogium-promo'><small>Posted from <a href="http://totocaster.com/blogium/">Blogium</a> for iPhone</small></p>Bandithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211747429891528053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1539469698903189660.post-11468740226974604452012-04-16T02:49:00.001+01:002012-04-16T10:16:19.979+01:00i feel an enormous sense of loss tonight. Loss of innocence, loss of carefreeness, loss of the confidence to trust the world. It was all taken away from me, and that feels unbearably sad. <br><br>It all goes back to the summer before I turned nine years old. Everything goes back to then. That's when the somatizing started, when the guilt and the blame started, when the anger and the need to punish myself started. <br><br>Because they all acted like it was my fault. Like all the terrible things that had happened and were still happening were all my fault. And I believed them; I was a child, they were the grownups, and I believed them. I believed that the reason my mother didn't love me was that there was something wrong with me. I believed that she pushed me away and wanted R instead because I was somehow defective - missing some critical component that R had. I believed that I had somehow done something that had 'made' my father molest and rape me. <br><br>Those were the messages I received, and I believed them. I didn't understand what was happening, I didn't understand how people could do those things - how parents could do those things - so I believed it must be because I did something wrong. Something terrible. That I WAS something terrible. <br><br>That feeling, thought, was too big and too awful for my tiny 8-year-old mind to fathom, so it hid. It blocked out the memories, and it created ways of coping with the feelings that wouldn't go away even when the memories did; punishing myself with illnesses and injuries and self-harm, denying myself sleep or any kind of true rest, filling my days with anger and self-recriminatioon, setting impossible standards so the only option was failure, plaguing myself with unattainable fantasies of being loved and wanted. <br><br>For 30 years, those feelings persisted; it's only now that I'm even aware of why they're there. Twelve years after recovering those lost memories, uncovering what my father did while my mother sat there, and I'm only now getting to the real heart of it all. <br><br>I'm getting 30 years of suppressed feelings all at once. All the things I couldn't feel as a small child, I can now see and understand as my abusive parents' way of 'clearing' their own conscience by passing the blame on to me. Now, I can see that for what I was - further abuse - and I can reject it. But to do that, I have to feel those feelings that 8-year-old me couldn't cope with. <br><br>I would have lost my mind if I'd felt it all back then. I understand why my subconscious did what it did in burying the memories and coping with the feelings - it was making the best it could of a very bad situation. I have to praise the resourcefulness of that little girl really, that enabled me NOT to lose my mind - to be as stable and as well-functioning an adult as I am. It's pretty bloody miraclulous, under the circumstances. The surprising thing really is that it didn't turn me into a raging psychopath myself. <br><br>But recovering from it now, learning that those coping mechanisms are no longer necessary and can be stopped - including, crucially, the pain - that means feeling those feelings. All 30 years' of them. All at once. <br><br>Now you see why it's so overwhelming. Now you see why I feel like I'm drowning. Because there's no 'off' switch, there's no 'pause'. Having opened the door, it's now constant. And the depth and breadth of those feelings - it just makes me want to die. The sense of loss at everything that was taken away from me. <br><br>If I had my time again, I wouldn't do the therapy. It's too much pain. <p class='blogium-promo'><small>Posted from <a href="http://totocaster.com/blogium/">Blogium</a> for iPhone</small></p>Bandithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211747429891528053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1539469698903189660.post-40894522713901107682012-04-13T12:35:00.001+01:002012-04-13T12:35:49.798+01:00This should've been posted at 3am, but the internet was down...<br><br>I haven't been on for a while because there's nothing to say. Things continue to get worse and worse, mentally and physically, and increasingly, there seems to be only one way out of all this. <br><br>I don't want to, but if the therapy doesn't resolve the pain, I'll have no choice. I can't carry on like this. I desperately want to stop the therapy, because the feelings it's bringing up are infinitely worse than the pain (not that I would ever have thought that was possible). I daren't stop though, because I'd never know if I was on the cusp of change and things might've improved if I'd just held on for a few more days. <br><br>But if I keep going till things improve mentally, and there's no change in the pain, then that's the cut-off point. <br><br>It's been five years, I've tried every pharmacological option they've offered me, and by then I'll have exhausted every psychological possibility. At which point, I'm out. <p class='blogium-promo'><small>Posted from <a href="http://totocaster.com/blogium/">Blogium</a> for iPhone</small></p>Bandithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211747429891528053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1539469698903189660.post-12344148427261011812012-04-08T13:51:00.001+01:002012-04-08T13:51:11.639+01:00Well my mother has just proved herself yet again. <br><br>She texted asking how I was - I said (and I quote) 'I'm extremely bad but I really don't want to talk about it. Thanks for asking tho.'<br><br>Any normal person (like every single one of my friends) would say something like 'I'm so sorry you're having such a bad time, I'm here if you need me.' Most of my friends would add that they love or care about me, that things will get better, or they'd talk about something else, to try and cheer me up. <br><br>My mother, though, said precisely nothing. Not a single word of love or support. Nothing. What kind of fucking mother does that? <br><br>I can't even say I'm disappointed, because it's not like it was a surprise. I'm not upset or anything, but I do hate her, and I feel vindicated in my decision to tell her we're done. She had her chance and she blew yet, yet again. She really is the most supreme waste of space. I just don't understand why I had to get such a bitch for a mother. <p class='blogium-promo'><small>Posted from <a href="http://totocaster.com/blogium/">Blogium</a> for iPhone</small></p>Bandithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211747429891528053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1539469698903189660.post-34692402350337282012-04-07T23:37:00.001+01:002012-04-07T23:37:43.117+01:00I don't want to feel this anymore. I would rather have the pain. <p class='blogium-promo'><small>Posted from <a href="http://totocaster.com/blogium/">Blogium</a> for iPhone</small></p>Bandithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211747429891528053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1539469698903189660.post-7335170047565749912012-04-02T01:21:00.001+01:002012-04-02T01:21:26.964+01:00I'm lying in bed, I'm not in pain and I have no neck pressure. None. Honest. <br><br>It's been a good pain-day all day. There's been only a very little pain or neck pressure, and what there was, felt very 'vague' and kind of distant. And totally acceptable. Now this, I could live with. <br><br>I am suffering some other somatizing symptoms, but they're bearable. I do hope it's not just that things are shifting. <br><br>I did have to take top-up pills just before midnight because I was getting quite a bit of muscular pain in my back (the 'morphine pains'), but they worked. I'm getting very minimal side effects, and nothing unpleasant - just feeling slightly 'floaty'. <br><br>And I am so loving lying here, revelling in the painless-ness. I can feel my arm and my shoulder and my neck and my back and NONE OF THEM HURT. <br><br>Do you have any idea how amazing it is to focus on your shoulder, and not feel pain? I do the meditation 'send your consciousness to the affected part of the body', and there's nothing there. It's just a fabulous soft nothingness. <br><br>The same with my eye. I can't remember the last time I didn't have at least some screwdriver-in-the-eye going on. <br><br>I think I might be in heaven. <br><br> <p class='blogium-promo'><small>Posted from <a href="http://totocaster.com/blogium/">Blogium</a> for iPhone</small></p>Bandithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211747429891528053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1539469698903189660.post-60753126999146524012012-03-30T20:03:00.001+01:002012-03-30T20:03:23.886+01:00Today's therapy session has triggered something awful, I just don't know what yet. <br><br>The pain started off bad and has only got worse throughout the day. On top of that, I feel very strange and I don't know why. I can't work out what it is I'm feeling, but it's not good and not being able to deal with it is causing the pain to ramp up more and more. <br><br>Getting electrocuted by a light switch when I got home didn't help much either...<p class='blogium-promo'><small>Posted from <a href="http://totocaster.com/blogium/">Blogium</a> for iPhone</small></p>Bandithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211747429891528053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1539469698903189660.post-79721527158615698552012-03-29T22:19:00.001+01:002012-03-29T22:19:04.841+01:00Better pill newsI've had a bit more luck with pills today. <br><br>Since the awfulness of last weekend, I've kept testing the pills, always as a last resort when the mental stuff fails. Objectively, I've judged that I'm getting at best 20% efficiency from the pills, and often 0%. <br><br>Today, the pain has been flaring more than since the weekend, and I could tell it was going to go big. So I had to take two top-up doses (6 hours apart though), plus two increased slow-release doses. The last two days I had to take one slow release and one top-up dose. <br><br>Yesterday, though, I focused heavily on the fact that I was taking the pills as a way to take care of myself - a loving, caring act, not one of punishment. Because as I mentioned last week, I think it's the idea of the pills being another way to punish myself that causes them to be so freakin' useless. <br><br>This new approach helped some yesterday; today even more so. Today I'd say I got 30% effectiveness out of the pills I took at 3pm, and as much as 50% from those at 9. <br><br>This is a massive improvement, and if I can keep it up, it means that I do have something to fall back on when the mental approach fails. Which it does, a lot. I can't even begin to tell you how important this could be. It will go some way to assuage the fear of the pain, and hopefully give me a tiny bit of confidence that I'll be able to cope with all this. <br><br>It might also mean I can put off thinking about coming off the pills till the pain is more consistently controlled by mental techniques (or has just gone down a lot). In other words, to when I wanted it to be in the first place. <br><br>The downside is that it means even the efficacy of the pills is dependant on me being able to adopt and maintain the right mental attitude. Which is unbelievably difficult when you're in blinding agony. It may require more preventative pill-taking, so my mind is clearer and I can better focus on those mental techniques. <p class='blogium-promo'><small>Posted from <a href="http://totocaster.com/blogium/">Blogium</a> for iPhone</small></p>Bandithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211747429891528053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1539469698903189660.post-85859063537441547482012-03-27T18:27:00.001+01:002012-03-27T18:27:21.604+01:00I've tested the pills twice more since the awfulness of Saturday night. Both times they did next to nothing. But the pain is as bad as ever. <br><br>I'm trying really hard to tackle the pain mentally, but it's so exhausting, and when my resources run out before the pain does - like today - I'm fucked. Then, there's no respite from the pain, and nothing I can do about it. <br><br>I don't know what to do. I can't live like this. It's worse than the past few weeks, and they were worse than everything that's gone before. What's the answer? What am I supposed to do? I'm tearing my hair out here. God, I only see one end to this and it's not a good one. <p class='blogium-promo'><small>Posted from <a href="http://totocaster.com/blogium/">Blogium</a> for iPhone</small></p>Bandithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211747429891528053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1539469698903189660.post-81695483729586046762012-03-24T21:27:00.001+00:002012-03-25T12:19:47.402+01:00I managed to control the pain mentally all day. Each time it flared, I addressed the issue of self-punishment, thinking about what I might be angry about, what I feel needs punishing. (I carried on with the basic slow-release dose, I just didn't take extras or take quick-release pills.) <br><br>It worked all day, but at 8pm a new level of pain started and nothing worked on it. I couldn't find what I might be angry about, I couldn't find what I might be punishing myself for. <br><br>So I had no choice but to take a pill - the pain was just too unbearable. This is where the real questions arrive with the pills, and with the question of stopping them. <br><br>It's been a good thing to address things mentally all day, and I do always try and do that, it's just that mental approaches tend to only work for a day or two, before the pain takes over again. But if I didn't have the pills to fall back on when the pain gets as bad as it is now, christ knows what I'd do. <br><br>Of course I still don't know if it's going to work, and if it doesn't, I'll be no better off than I was before. Worse, in fact, because I'll have nothing to fall back on. <br><br><br>Addendum<br>The 15mg OxyNorm at 9.15pm did absolutely nothing, so I took 4 OxyContin at 10.15 instead of the usual 2. That did nothing either. I considered calling an ambulance, but what are they gonna do? If morphine's not helping, they won't be able to do anything. I've just taken another 20mg OxyNorm at 11.15pm.<br><br> If that doesn't work (75mg Oxy in 2 hours), I'm out of options. I'm left with paramedics who can't do anything, or suicide. <br><br><br>It's 4am. The extra pills made no difference whatsoever. The agony continued unabated. The only reason I'm still here (breathing, and not in hospital) is that I suddenly got really really angry. <br><br>I was utterly furious, beside myself with rage, screaming and beating the living shit out of my pillows. Unfortunately, it was 2am, so apart from the initial one, which kind of got away from me, the screaming was very muted - clenched jaws, that kind of thing. <br><br>I was furious with my mother and I've just spent 2 hours writing her a very long, very detailed letter about everything she's done to me, and why I never want to see her again. <br><br>It's the kind of letter you don't actually plan on sending (though a version of it will need to form the basis of whatever conversation we ultimately have about why I will no longer see her). <br><br>At first, all this seemed to help - the pain finally eased and the writing soothed the fury. But now I've stopped, I'm getting angry all over again, and the pain is coming back. I can't express my rage all the time, so what am I supposed to do?<br><br>I do think that the time has come to stop the pills though. The medication did absolutely nothing for the pain; it didn't go down till I expressed the anger I wasn't even aware I was feeling. If that's the case, then taking the pills has just become redundant.<br><br><br>Next day<br>I finally got some sleep after what has to be the worst night I've ever had. I guess I'll have to test the theory again, to be certain, but if it happens repeatedly that the meds do nothing like they did last night, then I'm coming off them - I'm not putting myself through the side effects if I'm still getting pain like that. <br><p class='blogium-promo'><small>Posted from <a href="http://totocaster.com/blogium/">Blogium</a> for iPhone</small></p>Bandithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00211747429891528053noreply@blogger.com0