Well no, actually I don’t. This wasn’t supposed to be the agony aunt blog but at the moment…well, if you don’t fancy reading about some random twenty-something loser’s life, don’t bother clicking on the ‘more’ bit.
So, it turns out that all the (legal) medication I’ve had to take may have caught up with me: I’m not sure just yet. Tomorrow a visit to the doctor will determine whether or not my kidneys are fine. At least the pain has subsided, and my stomach is back to size 8 at least. I looked pregnant at size 12 - not to malign size 12 persons - but on a five-foot nothing thing like me, it’s hardly flattering given that I’m not blessed with ‘child-bearing’ hips as someone once put it.
As a result of the pain, there hasn’t been much exercise, suffice to say. But I did manage to put on some makeup: on my cheeks, nose and chin I brushed MAC’s Shooting Star mineralized skinfinish (it’s like a cake and makes you look all glowy and radiant), and used NARS lipgloss in Talitha, a clear medium rose pink. I look more together at least.
Earlier this week, I received a letter from the social security department. Chose not to open it till today. Their letters aren’t overly exciting, after all.
Now this is almost comical. They want me to make an appointment to see them so they can ‘assess’ my situation (read: bully me into searching for work before I’m ready). You will have to believe me when I say that I am not at all afraid of hard work, and often tend to work harder than those around me at places of employment (DH - you can vouch for this - I’m a hard-working lil’ Filipina!). I thought that trying to be a part of society would magically cure me of my ailments, but it seemed to make it worse. The side effects of medication made things hard, but it was probably once suicidal thoughts became frequent that I decided pushing myself to work wasn’t worth losing one’s health over.
None of that goes down particularly well with social security, so I agreed to sign up with an employment agency that helps people with physical disabilities and psychological problems find work. The agency is actually fantastic - they won’t pressure you to take on a job that is too demanding hours-wise if it’s going to be bad for you. At the beginning of the year when I had my big 2005-2006 relapse, I suspended seeing my job counsellor. Fully intending to return when things improved.
May, June, July, August - hey, my mood…this is what it’s like when adults are happy? I thought humans were by default unhappy and self-hating. My idea of reality is slightly…skewed.
It was decided that it was better for my health to wait till my mood was more stable before running the work gauntlet again. Does that sound reasonable? Does it make me sound like a dole bludger?
Anyway, social security told me they need to see me and assess my health because I’ve ‘failed’ to complete their approved activity. I didn’t fail - I wasn’t well enough. Christ, sorry Z in advance for this, but sometimes I wish I had cancer and perhaps people would be more understanding…sigh. Yeah, it’s a shit thing to say.
On top of that, tomorrow is therapy day. Talking is not going to help me, and these people just don’t want to understand this. I know what’s wrong, I can’t tell anyone and I refuse to talk about it while I’m living at my parents’ place because it’s too traumatic. What’s so freaking hard to understand about that?!
At least I have my lipgloss collection. And a piece of chocolate mud cake my father bought especially for me - so off I trot to eat that!
I solemnly swear to be less of a shit next time I write.
