No Sleep, No Eat

Pain has made it impossible for me to sleep for more than 4 hours at a time. I become exhausted by about 9-10 pm, whereas before I could stay up until the wee hours, sometimes not going to bed until 4-5 am. Now, I go to sleep earlier, then awaken between 1-3pm. I must get up, take pain meds, and then do something else until I can go back to sleep. I would rather just sleep. The pain is causing the sleep disruptions and the sleep disruptions are causing a major pain crisis. Neck, shoulder, elbows, knees, ankles, feet, groin and gluts are in pain. My right side is more affected than my left. The cyclic nature of my pain, depression, anxiety is all connected, and stress is making it worse.

I am losing hope about my ability to cope with my life for the future. How can my life improve if  my life is riddled with pain and despair? This blog was started to examine the whole psychological  community's lack of help to the LGBTQ community, and now, my physical condition just makes me think, constantly, "I wish I was dead," or "I want to kill myself," at random intervals from sitting on the toilet to waking in the night from pain to the last thoughts I have as I drift off to sleep at night. No one can help me. Nothing can cure me, no pain medication will help and still allow me to be functional, and no kind of therapy will help when I am in pain all the time. I had company over yesterday, and while I enjoyed it, all I could think the whole time was that I can't wait for them to leave so that I can relax. I was hoping these new friends could eventually be new roommates, but the thought of sharing my space, my intimate details of daily life, seemed abhorrent to me, no matter how nice these people are. 

No hope.

The Anxiety/Depression/Suicide Connection

Having a difficult week.
My anxiety is completely overwhelming me. 
This is causing suicidal thoughts and depression. 
I can't find a therapist. 
No one will help me. 
No one will even pull their respective asses out to watch my dog for me so I can go to the hospital for treatment. 
Everyone is too caught up in their own shit.

Birthday endings

Well, the nicest person I encountered today was the courtesy clerk at the  grocery store. Well, the check out clerk was also very nice, but the CC was very kind and wished me a happy birthday. My brother is still being a cowardly ass. I called the crisis clinic and fortunately found someone to talk to who was kind enough to not have an agenda about getting off the phone with me. She was nice and kind and compassionate. I got no presents, no calls, no cards and no well wishes from anyone who is my friend or family. I cleaned my house, carpet cleaned dog pee, and did laundry and went grocery shopping. This was the suckiest birthday I have ever had, even suckier than the break up 3 years ago just before my birthday. I hate my life. I still have no one to take my dog so I can check into the hospital. 

Happy Birthday to Me.

I was debating with just myself, obviously, about writing this post. I's almost 2 hours into my wonderful, crappy, shitty birthday. My brother is being a pathetic toe rag, I am watching a marathon of episodes of, "Grey's Anatomy," in preparation of the new and final season. I don't watch regular TV, because, well, it upsets me too much. This has been a problem for about 5 years.I just finally got the last season on Netflix last week. So I am gonna watch the regular scheduled new season so I can find out of they get out of the plane crash site alive. I am sure they do,except for well, Lexi. I mean why spare the one sibling Meredith has. 

Anyway, I got presents today! One from a Harry Potter website wishing me happy birthday and a $5 Starbuck's card from a medical study I in which I participate. How exciting is that. No one I know has given me ANYTHING, not even a card. And this is the suicidal birthday. Some friends, really nice but the "I feel sorry for you" friends invited me out for dinner, but I turned them down after initially accepting, because it was just all too depressing for me. 

So I will just be watching "Grey's" until I can't stay awake anymore, and then I will watch "Grey's " some more. I took a good dump and had a great pee tonight. That's as exciting as it gets. Boo Hoo for me. My $5 Starbuck's card won't even buy me a whole meal. Hate my life, hate my brother and hate my friends for feeling sorry for me. I hate my ex-therapist for dumping me. 

The BIG Birthday

So, thinking about my abandonment issues after my recent, Unceremonious drop by my EX-therapist, Jarred Lathrop-Weber, at 2 am, not being able to sleep and feel even more betrayed. Mr. Lathrop-Weber was aware that my birthday was going to one of the most difficult in my life. You see, my mom died at a young age, when I was in my early 20's, just after I had a baby, and my life was in the toilet in a big way. She died, and since my life has again disintegrated in so many ways, I had made a plan to end my life on the birthday  when I turned the same age as my mother when she died. That's this week. So I have some decisions to make. Mr. L-W was fully aware of this dilemma for me, as it has been planned for many years. 

The plan has been that if I had not become the person I wanted to be, resolved many of my problems and had a good relationship and career by this time, I had the option of ending it all. Mr. L-W knew this, and yet, still, no concern for me. I still have not ruled it out. It's 2 am and I can't sleep. I have only been to bed since 10 pm, and had hoped it was at least 3 am before I awoke, but no...When I went to bed, I could not keep my eyes open. I am still very exhausted, just unable to sleep, and my back and leg are screaming with pain. So I may just have to take my pain meds and try to see if that will relax me enough to go back to sleep. 

When I was in crisis, when I started this blog, I was, against the rules of course, taking more than I was supposed to of my sleep meds, so am now out of them. I wasn't sleeping long enough; often only getting only 4 hours a night, so I would take more meds to get enough sleep. I thought that was over last night, as I slept more than 10 hours. So it's my own fault, but I will not be a happy camper until all my meds can be renewed on the 20th. 

Still cannot find anyone to watch my dog or I would go into the hospital, if for nothing more than to get my daily medications on time and in full. That would, in actuality, not be the only reason. I need a supportive environment, a regular schedule, people to talk to when I am feeling in distress and some people to talk to me when I need them. If I had someone to take my pup, I would go right now. I have a bag packed. I have had it packed for 6 months. I keep telling myself that if I don't leave my home, then I can pretend the world does not exist. If I don't turn on my telephone, I won't have to deal with the world. All seems really hopeless. 

I hate Mr. Jarred Lathrop-Weber for his low-down, dirty way in which he encouraged me to share all, and then dropped me like a bag of dead rats. I feel like a bag of dead rats. I want to be a dead rat. 

Where am I?

Well, after meeting with my psychiatrist on Friday, we came to these facts:

• She is not allowed/is unwilling/cannot assist me with psych hospital admission, ever. This was my reason for seeing her in the first place. So, no reason to see her anymore. 
• My only options for hospital treatment are Emergency Room admissions, which traumatizes me in a very big way. 
• There are no other options for someone like me who cannot pay for psychotherapy other than the poorly managed and operated community mental health clinics. 
• She cannot see me indefinitely.
• She is worried about me.
• I am having severe physical pain problems, none of which have been diagnosed as coming from anywhere. I can barely walk, and sleeping has been hit and miss. 
• I have been being harassed by one of my friends to go into the hospital, but there is no one to care for my dog. Besides the fact that I don't want to go and be voluntarily abused by the hospital. 
• My only close family member is being an insensitive, uncaring ass, even as I was being supportive and loving.
• I hope more people will read this blog so that something can be done for poor LGBTQ mental health clients in King County. 
• I am resigned to having no help in the future.

Review of Seattle Counseling Service for Sexual Minorites

SEATTLE COUNSELING SERVICE FOR SEXUAL MINORITIES

Telephone/TTY: (206) 323-1768
FAX: (206) 323-2184
Email: info@seattlecounseling.orgAddress: 1216 Pine Street, Suite 300
                      Seattle, WA 98101
Office Hours
Monday thru Thursday open 8:00 am to 8:00 pm. (some sessions run later). Friday 8:00 am to 5:00 pm.

http://www.seattlecounseling.org/Services.htm

ALL of my experiences with this agency have ended badly. I went there for the first time many years ago and was installed in group therapy. I actually had a really good therapist, but I needed individual therapy, but was not offered a therapist for this purpose...none was available.  I made some friends in the group, but also, I bonded with the therapist, and then, at a critical point, she announced she was leaving the agency. I had had two previous therapists in private practice who were very good, and each of them ended my therapy due to things that were about them (moving away, etc.) and I was vulnerable to abandonment issues when this group therapist, her name was Rene, announced she was leaving the agency, and could not take any of us on as clients, per agency policy. I decided to give the new group leader a try, but ended up walking out in the middle of the session due to my inability to adjust. 

Thus ended my first attempt at getting help at SCSSM. Some years later, I checked into therapy at SCSSM, and had an intake, and the therapist who did my intake ended up being my therapist. She was dumb as a bag of hammers. I requested a new therapist, and she was a bit better, but it was obvious to me that she was not intelligent enough for me, and got mad at me when I went to group she was running and I was recalcitrant. She had practically forced me to attend, even when I told her repeatedly I didn't want to. The group was made up of very low functioning people which is fine, but wasn't helpful to me. I felt my purpose there was to help the other group members...they could not help me, or even understand me. In addition, I lost respect, in part, for therapist because she was writing on the white board, and misspelled most words. Geez. 

So therapist accused me of being immature and rude. Well, perhaps I was, but I wasn't interested in her little group. Her group sucked and she blamed me for having a bad attitude, because if I had a good attitude I would like the group...but really it was all about her...because she created the group and wanted to feel really great about her ability to forma great group. I did, however, have a great psychiatrist while I was there. She treated me respect and with medications, and I got better, and then, shortly after the breakdown in trust with therapist gone group crazy, I decided that I was done with therapy, and this time, the therapist was insisting I needed to meet with her for closure. I never wanted to see her again. I told my psychiatrist I was done with medications and therapy because I was better, and, on my own, I tapered off my meds, all the while having my therapist hound me that I was making a mistake, even though my psychiatrist understood completely. I was right, and I was better and it was a good thing to go off the meds. I wish my therapist had been my psychiatrist. We discussed things like her dissertation and  education and she understood my intellectual needs. 

Now, my previous post about Erin Brower explains what happened the NEXT time I entered therapy at SCSSM. The only thing I left out was her supervisor, Donnie Goodman. He was/is the clinical supervisor at SCSSM. When Erin confronted me about not wanting to enter the Dialectical Behavioral Therapy program at Harborview,     I believe it was his idea, because when I conveyed my disinterest in the program, she called him into the session, me not knowing him at all, and he told me that since I did not want to do what they wanted me to do, then I was done there, and needed to leave. I guess Erin could not handle chucking me out the door herself, or even apologize or be understanding my choices. She made Donnie-boy come in and do the "tough love" portion of education in poverty mental health. No respect for my wishes. Sudden loss of my psychiatrist. (I will discuss him below). I was blown away. Did this make me want to do the program at Harborview? NO.  

At a point later on, I looked into a therapist at Sound Mental Health, and that was even worse. I was so uncomfortable that I walked out on my intake therapist. She told me if I did not want to discuss any one thing on her intake agenda, I didn't have to, and then proceeded to become irritated when I responded to many of her questions with, "I don't want to answer that." I ended up walking out of the intake. The facility, itself, was filled with filthy, seemingly homeless, drug and alcohol addicted and dysfunctional clients, and no where to sit...which was hard for me, because I am disabled and standing is hard for me. No one would or could help to accommodate me with a damn chair. After this and my previous experience (SCSSM) with community mental health agencies, I simply gave up, and did not enter into therapy (many years later) until Mr. Jarred Lathrop-Weber's offer to assist me, and then dropped me after a month and half. Thank the goddess I never got to the point that I shared anything incredibly private. I told him one thing, which I now regret, and thank the goddess it happened before I felt humiliated. How gross would it have been to lay my heart splayed open, and THEN have him throw me away like so much garbage. 

At this point will review the psychiatrist at SCSSM in another post. Suffice it to say he was fine, uninterested and straight. He threw drugs at me like candy. They poisoned me and I stopped taking them. 

Resources for people in poverty are shameful, and so are the actions of community (LGBTQ) therapists who build their credentials by working at one of these community mental health centers, only to go into private practice and then say (at least by their actions), "Screw all the poor LGBTQ  mental health patients out there."  Sounds like a Dickensian workhouse scenario. Scrooge saw no purpose to help the poor....that's what the workhouses were for. Oliver was dumped into a orphanage because he was "perceived" to be of low birth and poverty, but was "saved" by his rich family in the end. But, what of the Artful Dodger? We are the island of misfit toys. Shame, Shame, Shame. Donnie Goodman? Donnie BADman. SAD and shameful. No rest for the wicked and no help for the misfortunate. 

Tomorrow I go to see my psychiatrist who I have only met once, and I will lie to her about how I really feel, because I don't yet know or trust her. That's all I can say about that right now. She has suggested I go on lithium, because she guessed I might be bi-polar, and then, after my therapist dropped me, she suggested I might change my primary care giver to one of the community based clinics to get therapy there. My primary doctor is someone on whom I rely, who trusts my judgment and knows I am not a drug addict. If I had a new doctor, I would have to detail all of my physical and mental health issues to that person and they may or may not concur with my current treatment and medications which are working properly. I will find out tomorrow if she is worth the time to keep seeing her. I primarily want a psychiatrist so they can facilitate admission to the hospital should I go into crisis and then I won't have to go the emergency room route, which is torture. I will review my emergency room experiences the next time I write. Please comment, I welcome the discourse. And DOWN WITH DONNIE GOODMAN/BADMAN!