Well, I am happy to say that I am finished with all of my Disability paperwork to date. It has been a long and arduous project. It started in January when I was on those heinous Tramadol pills. I ended up messing up that set of paperwork so much I had to just type them out. It's been crazy.
Last night I almost had a melt-down when the computer came up with a message that the file had become corrupted or was lost.
Then I couldn't make Word work at all.
Had I not been talking to my best friend Pablo I am sure I would have completely lost it and had a drama fit. After all of that work and I thought I had lost it all! It took forever to get the computer to shut down, and then forever to reboot, and then a short forever to get the file to come back up. Pablo held my hand virtually until it came back. I love that boy.
So today I went to print the thing off to mail and...ran out of ink.
So, I had to go out to the office supply store and get some so I could finally put that thing in the mail. I am SO glad it's not here anymore, I've had enough of it, all the way around.
:) :) :) :) :)
But, I have to say that dwelling on everything in those reports has taken a toll on me. It took quite a physical toll, especially this last week as I have worked like crazy to get them finished and back to the SSD office. All of the typing and sitting for hours at a time really wreaked havoc throughout my body. This will be a short post, I think, as my hands and back already hurt so much.
But the other thing about filling out those reports--Work History, Function, and Symptoms--they really hit home the reality of how badly my body functions now. And that has put me into rather a sadness and I think a type of mourning for my losses.
As I filled out the work history, I went through all of my jobs for the last 15 years. The very first one on the list was as a Student Manager of my university dining hall. I loved that job, and I was really good at it. I could buzz around that dining hall from one end to the other and not miss a beat. I smelled like a French fry all the time, but I loved it. That was a really hard job and I did it well. And it grieves me to think I cannot perform even a fraction of that job today.
The function report saddened me as well, making me feel like I'm worthless. The wording of the questions was rather harsh, asking, so-what-DO-you-do-all-day kinds of questions. And it really hurt my heart to think of what I cannot do, and what my mother, who is twice my age, has to do for me most of the time. A simple task like laundry is virtually impossible at this time.
And I can't believe that I will be like this forever, I just can't.
I want to be a better me, and I am so frustrated at what I can't do anymore, and I haven't figured out how to cope with being the me that I am at this point. Everything I can think to do I can't seem to make happen. I don't know how else to be. I need to help myself, indeed, but the things I know I can do don't seem to be enough to get anywhere.
I SO don't want to wallow like I was doing last month. Oh, I don't! But my frustration is so great that I just feel like if I don't get it off of my chest I will sink even deeper into depression.
I don't want to stress out Pablo either, and don't want him to feel burdened by me or my struggles. He gets so sad when I tell him what's going on, and I know he wants to know, and cares what's going on, but I know there are so many things in his life that he has to deal with, and I hate the thought that I would be a source of pain in his life. He is always trying to think of ways to help me. I wish I could help him.
And my mom, God bless my mom, I don't know what I'd do without her. She takes care of me and so many things that I can't. It's so not fair that she has me to deal with. And I feel guilty, too, because I'm afraid that I won't get better, that I will never find a mate to spend the rest of my life with...I feel so selfish for wanting a husband when she has no one. I don't want to feel this way. I wish she would at least find somebody to love her like she deserves.
My father in no way treated her like she needed or should have been treated. He only hit her once in front of me, sending her sailing across the camping trailer with a thud. I will NEVER forget that as long as I live. I can still hear the sound her body made hitting against the cupboard, can still see her in my mind's eye sitting on the floor like a rag doll. Oh, God, I beg you, please send her the man of her dreams, she's waited a lifetime for him!!!
Anyway, all of this together combined with the report I just finished on symptoms...I surely feel sad at the loss of my former self. But you know, in the back of my mind I know there's hope. I know that there are things I am preparing for, or more accurately, that God is preparing me for. I have always defined myself by what I've done, or answered to where I worked as to what I was up to. I don't know how to answer right now. Nothing's making much sense, and I'm trying not to panic.
This, too, shall pass, I know that. I'm surrounded by amazing people in my life who remind me daily how lucky I am. I just want to be a blessing. I'm hoping that I can find something to bless others with that I can do without a hitch. I haven't blogged at all like I planned. Life has gotten in the way a few times and tripped me up. I guess I expect perfect, and then when I screw up, I give up. But I don't want to give up this blog, and maybe I just set too high of expectations. I intended to write daily. I find I'm too tired most days to do it. But, like I did tonight, I need to push myself and do it anyway, but then make sure I don't push myself too far. It's difficult to come back from too far. I've already spent a whole hour more than I intended...time seems to fly by so quickly.
Anyway, I'm glad that is over with, and I know that this melancholy will subside. I hope in the meantime I can come up with something that will help me cope better and take some of the pressure off of me and those I love.