The Doctor Doesn’t Think I’m Competent To Handle My Finances & Other Entries | May 19 – October 30, 2012

Had some news. Approved for SSDI. The kicker is the doctor doesn’t think I’m competent to handle my finances.

Listened to the lady call Jim at work and do paperwork so my checks, and the kids’, are deposited to his account. Get labeled mental and everything they give you costs a pound of dignity.

I’ve decided to take my netbook with me next time. That way if I need to tell them they’re an asshole, I can do so without stuttering.

My daughter, my youngest son and I playing.

[written in an email on May 20, 2012]

I felt so humiliated. Sorted into the less-than-human category. Yesterday, devastated. Today numb and gardening. Between those moments, I’m so angry. So fucking angry.

About that, about being sick and not knowing what’s really wrong. Realizing I’m never going to wake up some morning and be better. That’s probably a no shit Sherlock, but I’m just starting to catch on.

It’s OK with all my doctors that I’m addicted to Xanax, smoke cannabis all day and eat their pills to have any semblance of a life. To have any ability to function minimally. I’ve done everything I can do to adapt and attempt independence. It’s such bullshit.

Something happened to me and no one in the medical field will believe me. I’m crazy so it’s all crazy talk.

Saw the neurologist and he said I did show some sharp waves in the temporal area on my eeg, but he didn’t want to talk about that more because they already did that workup. I had no idea. Last year they told me it was normal. I asked him what that meant.

It meant some seizure activity, but that’s not what was wrong with me. (He shuts the door) The medicine he’s giving me is for seizures and bipolar.

So I won’t have a big seizure just in case and I’m fucking nuts. Both covered, next patient please.

He can’t pin my leg/walking issues on that, so going to have an MRI or some other test on my back. That could be degeneration of discs or something due to RA, or something else.

Disability will check in with my docs in about three years to confirm I’m still disabled. Everyone’s checked off.

I’m exhausted. I need new doctors. When I’m able, I’ll start again and find some real help.

[written in an email on 10/2/12]

Its ok. I know its my fault. Be better if I had died.

no, i’m not being knee-jerk here. lets get real. i’m the one fucking up the all would be stable it it weren’t for me and my moods. my kids are being raised by someone like *. i shouldn’t be here.i knew i shouldn’t have bought the jeep.

i kept thinking you were thinking it was wrong.You explained things to me. We don’t have a marriage. We have a crazy woman and a guy who says, “yes.”forget portland. sorry seattle was a bad idea. i’m not lookkign for yes — i’m asking for your true opinion. I rely on it. So it’s is on you too.

I asked. I wasn’t sure. Now i hate it. and this. and my fucking son doesn’t think i try hard enough. my kids dont know what to expect from me. i’m fuckign worthless as a partner, money earner or even suck at apparently trying to have a conversation and lighten it up with you.I hate me. and this new life. I HATE IT. I hate myself. I’m fucking worthless. and i dont care of you groan about oh that’ where i thought you were going to go.i know i affect everyone and everyone is m iserable because of me.there’s no point to this.

i’m a failure in every way. i dont understand, how did i get here? why do i have to be here?

what battle am I facing? could i at least know what it is that’s wrong with me wth some certainty? how am i supposed to live like this forever?i’m a burden, a failure and a loser.and i kknow you all love me. otherwise i’d be on the street somewhere. I dont know what to do anymore. i can’t fix anything or anyone. i can’t evven get through a day without screaming at someone who didn’t deserve itt. mostly my children. i know dont know anymore. I’m sorry i messed us all up.

and i know you can’t fix this either

My daughter and I hanging out.

[written in a journal on October 30, 2012]

The concerned ones asked: Why? How come? What triggered it?

It was like they were asking questions that didn’t apply to my mental breakdown.

I haven’t heard anyone ask someone why they had a cardiac arrest, doubt their condition, think it’s over-exaggerated or confusing. Same thing with diabetes and other physical health conditions. They wait to see what the doctor has to say.

So, and for the most part I know it’s out of love — at least for me, what makes family and friends assume I can tell them why I have mental illness? I know why I showed up at the door of the behavioral center: suicide ideation.

Don’t know when the darkness leaked in and then barged, banging through my skull and body until it had tremors, tics and seizures.

I don’t have the answer or answers to my condition. I can’t tell you why I am the way I am.

It just is. I am.

And when I have some labels slapped on me, I can talk about those but it still won’t answer the questions. And, at that point, maybe I’ll want to share or maybe I won’t.

When in peer-to-peer group therapy at the center (Blue Sky Wellness Center), not a single person asks why. Not. A. One. They already know.

Even if they don’t know the name for my condition or know what theirs is yet, they get it. We just are and the work to recovery is difficult.

Listening to each other, supporting one another, and not caring about the specifics — though we might part with those over coffee on a singular level — but working towards a common goal to feel better, become stronger and perhaps function at a typical level again.

Here there’s depression, bipolar, schizophrenia, anxiety, dual recovery and more. We all have stories of the dark days, the things we jacked up because of it (relationships, jobs, friendships) and a hope to feel better soon.

The why doesn’t matter. Working towards mental health wellness does.

Published by Eve Reiland

Contact | Note: My cognitive abilities fluctuate and so does my ability to read and process written or verbal information. Currently, reading new information past a paragraph or two, short ones, is impossible without support. Please keep emails short as possible. Currently, I’m overwhelmed with a few health challenges and have been incapable of processing emails for a couple of months now. Please bear with me. I do the best I can with the abilities I have at the moment.

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