I have been looking forward to writing this post because of the title rhyme. (weirdness)
This post has been inspired by Trash Diaries. I’ve been thinking about it for a few days and she has brought it to the forefront for me. Which is good. Maybe, it will stop knocking about in my head and give me a moment’s peace.
I am seriously considering writing/calling my congressmen and senators regarding this struggle with the SSA. The mere fact that 3 professional opinions have been discarded as worthless by those at the SSA in favor of their opinion, which they came to without interviewing me, is bullshit.
I have been trying for 2 days to get out the door to the grocery store and still have not succeeded. If it were just me I would just eat soup and not worry about it, but I have a husband to take care of, who needs to eat more than soup. Yes, he will buy his dinner at work if he needs to, but I hate to waste the money, because we really can’t afford such luxuries. The pittance that disability would give me would actually make a real difference in our lives. And, lets face it, if I can’t make it to the grocery store, could I really make it to that job?
I call it a pittance, because that’s what it is. If I got a job that paid this little, it would be a temporary, until I find something else, type of job. But the fact remains that I wouldn’t find a job that pays this little, because this amount of money is well below minimum wage. But it’s enough to take some pressure off of our paycheck to paycheck budget.
But, I fear that making a stink would just convince SSA even more that I’m capable of doing something.
I’m so angry at this system that insists we humiliate ourselves in front of people who don’t know what they are talking about, in order to receive an amount of money, which would put us well below the poverty line.
And it is humiliation.
We find ourselves, desperately searching for words to describe our situation. We used to find these words easily. But not now. Not when it’s critical to our well-being. Not when we MUST convince someone else, by writing a paragraph (there is a limited amount of space on these applications) about how fucked up we are.
We tell complete strangers about how we are completely incapable of even being a greeter at Walmart because there are days that no matter how much we want to, we can’t get out of bed. Hell, I haven’t been out of pajamas since therapy on Tuesday. I just don’t see the point. But admitting that to SSA is …it just feels awful. They are programmed to not believe me and I, lacking the full capacity to explain myself, have to somehow convince them to do something that they don’t want to do.
Or, I have to explain to them about the days where I can literally not sit still. My focus is completely gone. I bounce from task to task, accomplishing nothing. These are also days that make working impossible, because I suddenly start volunteering to do any and everything possible to make myself indispensable. Now I’m trying to run the place. Of course, these tasks that I volunteer for will never get accomplished because I can’t fucking focus. And the crash that results will make it even worse.
My coffee table is littered with coloring books and markers showing a desperate attempt to occupy my mind so the thoughts stop bouncing around my head, crashing into one another, over and over and over and over again. My computer is gunked up with mindless games trying to accomplish the same thing.
How do I explain to someone, who 1) probably doesn’t care and 2) is paid not to even if they do and 3) more than likely has no frame of reference for what I’m describing- that I have not showered for days because I can’t get up the energy to do it. I’m not happy about it, but I just can’t seem to find the energy to fix it either.
My concentration is shit. My task completion is shit. It has taken me 2 hours to write this blog entry.
This blog entry would not convince SSA of anything.
And I feel compelled to say that while convincing the asshats at SSA to believe me feels like debasing myself in front of strangers, this blog does not. This blog is for me. This is my substitute for journaling. Keeping a journal, for me, is just not working. The thoughts come too fast. I can’t keep up. My typing skills are much more appropriate for how fast my brain is going. If someone reads this and doesn’t like it….whatever. If someone reads it and likes it….cool. If I help someone with my ramblings….great. But if no one ever reads it…fine. But what I write for SSA matters for larger reasons then purging my brain of racing thoughts. It’s the difference between drowning financially and being able to breathe.
And it really is just humiliating.
It’s begging and I don’t like to beg. And no one should be allowed to make me.