Me, who is normally ready for bed by 9 p.m. (thanks for sucking the life out of me with tantrums and demands, spawn) and unable to drag ass out of bed til 5 mins before I have to drive her to school…
Was up multiple times through the night, sending text msgs to my bank for balance alerts.
Not that being up many times during the night is unusual, it’s my norm.
This time, however, it was with cause.
I recently got fed up waiting for our ass trash postal system to deliver the child support checks in a consistent fashion so I filled out the paper work to have it direct deposited to my debit account.
Now, my disability checks have been direct deposited for 8 years, no problem. But that’s FEDERAL.
Trusting my state government, one of the most infamously corrupt states not to mention inept, in the union…That was a leap for me. I just KNEW something would go wrong, leaving me and Spook up a shit creak.
Not even the text alert I received confirming my next support check would be electronically deposited assuaged my anxiety. Because…deviation.
Just like every month I check my balance first thing to make sure the deposit went through on my disability check…I kept checking all night for the support deposit.
At 5 a.m. I sluggishly sent the text inquiry for my balance. And IT WAS THERE! Yayness. For once, it didn’t get botched.
BUT all the anxiety caused me to remain awake rather than enjoying two more hours of sleep so I was up at 5 a.m., watching Designated Survivor and drinking sweet tea. Not normal for me.
Every time my disability is reviewed and they ask stupid shit like “how does your condition impact your ability to function normally every day”…THIS. I want to point out shit like this. The anxiety. The depression. The exhaustion from when I do venture into the dish.
I can’t commit to planning a meal lest my mood crash or nerves get frazzled. So how am I supposed to tell any employer, oh, yeah, I am reliable and solid.
This mental shit, to my chagrin, does impact every facet of my live, including the ability to have a meal in public or go to a concert in spite of my love of music. (Last concert I went to was um…in the 90’s and it was with R to see Styx so it doesn’t even really count cos that was HIS thing and only many wine coolers got me thru it.)
I HATE that I am not always able to power through it all. That I have let my mind become my jailer. I fight with everything I got and it’s never enough for those around me. Now that Trump will be taking office, I worry that being so rich and judgmental, the first thing he’ll do is cut disability for people like me. Because mental illness isn’t real, we’re lazy freeloaders, blah blah.
I mean, I hear it several times a week from R, he’s always on about “people on wellfare” and “lazy people my taxes pay so they don’t have to work.”
Like that daily assault on the self esteem isn’t a high enough price to pay for a measly disability income.
Point of this diatribe is…
Every tiny thing impacts my “normal” existence and it is no affectation, no weakness of character.
I can no more will myself mentally healthy than a diabetic can skip insulin and convince their blood sugar levels to behave.
Until the world at large grows a brain and comprehends this fact…
Mental healthcare will never improve and we will always be pariahs.
Which in my opinion just shows who the truly mentally fucked up people are. Because part of being mature and intelligent is having empathy and a willingness to understand.
Things we with mental issues already have.
So…who’s really mentally disadvantaged? Us, fighting with all our might, taking pills, doing therapy, doing every damn thing to get better…
Or the so called social elite normals who can’t grasp the concept of mental illness because half are sociopaths without a conscience.