(no subject)
Sep. 9th, 2016 03:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_rckGah. Social Security wants me to fill out a detailed things I can and can’t do form for 'further review.' I so very, very much don’t want to deal with this, and I’m going to be kind of panicked for a while. So much of what I can and can’t do is in the it depends category.
I can, for example, take a ten to fifteen minute walk out of the house most days (but not all. Right now, the problem with my knee makes it problematic), but I can’t do it until about 9:30 or 10:00 in the evening. Partly, it’s less scary then, partly, Scott’s more likely to be able to go with me then, and partly, I go to bed between 10:30 and 11:00, so that’s the last possible moment if I’m going to do it at all. And I probably wouldn’t do it if I weren’t playing Ingress.
I can handle certain types of crises without falling apart immediately, but I will pay for it after. It’s the more minor, unexpected changes to routine that really freak me out to the point of irrationality.
I can do just about anything for Cordelia because, well, I have to. I chose to become a parent, and that goes with it. I just have to allow space for my mind and body to shut down after, and the longer I put that off, the harder I’ll crash.
Some of my physical restrictions, such as lifting, are based on seeing a specialist more than twenty years ago. I have no idea what such a specialist would say now, and I never got a copy of the report because it was paid for by my employer.
It’s also hard to explain how my disability changed what I could do when I have always had most of this crap. It’s just that I managed to work for eleven years (after four years of college) before I completely fell apart. I had been getting steadily worse during that time. It’s just that that’s the point when they fired me for not being able to do my job. Me having a nervous breakdown effectively gave them an excuse. I can actually do more around the house than I used to be able to because I’m not spending all of my energy on leaving the house and staying at work where it’s incredibly stressful because of being out, because of people, because of needing to get things done, because… Well, work.
I don’t have a migraine from filling out the forms. Yet. I probably ought to take an Ativan. No, this can be the acid test as to whether or not the metoprolol tartrate helps my anxiety. I know, from trying it once with Scott at home, that it won’t set off my asthma, but I have no idea if it will help my anxiety at all. I hope it does because it would be a heck of a lot better than Ativan.
And then I have an hour to figure out dinner for two eighth graders and, if Scott isn’t home by then, a way to get them to where they need to go when they need to go. Cordelia’s friend can’t have the pulled pork which is all of the cooked meat we’ve got in the fridge. There’s a little lunchmeat, and I’ve got some canned tuna. We’ve also got about ten baked potatoes and sufficient shredded cheese to add some protein.
But I think pizza will receive more enthusiasm. Thank goodness I can do that online.
I can, for example, take a ten to fifteen minute walk out of the house most days (but not all. Right now, the problem with my knee makes it problematic), but I can’t do it until about 9:30 or 10:00 in the evening. Partly, it’s less scary then, partly, Scott’s more likely to be able to go with me then, and partly, I go to bed between 10:30 and 11:00, so that’s the last possible moment if I’m going to do it at all. And I probably wouldn’t do it if I weren’t playing Ingress.
I can handle certain types of crises without falling apart immediately, but I will pay for it after. It’s the more minor, unexpected changes to routine that really freak me out to the point of irrationality.
I can do just about anything for Cordelia because, well, I have to. I chose to become a parent, and that goes with it. I just have to allow space for my mind and body to shut down after, and the longer I put that off, the harder I’ll crash.
Some of my physical restrictions, such as lifting, are based on seeing a specialist more than twenty years ago. I have no idea what such a specialist would say now, and I never got a copy of the report because it was paid for by my employer.
It’s also hard to explain how my disability changed what I could do when I have always had most of this crap. It’s just that I managed to work for eleven years (after four years of college) before I completely fell apart. I had been getting steadily worse during that time. It’s just that that’s the point when they fired me for not being able to do my job. Me having a nervous breakdown effectively gave them an excuse. I can actually do more around the house than I used to be able to because I’m not spending all of my energy on leaving the house and staying at work where it’s incredibly stressful because of being out, because of people, because of needing to get things done, because… Well, work.
I don’t have a migraine from filling out the forms. Yet. I probably ought to take an Ativan. No, this can be the acid test as to whether or not the metoprolol tartrate helps my anxiety. I know, from trying it once with Scott at home, that it won’t set off my asthma, but I have no idea if it will help my anxiety at all. I hope it does because it would be a heck of a lot better than Ativan.
And then I have an hour to figure out dinner for two eighth graders and, if Scott isn’t home by then, a way to get them to where they need to go when they need to go. Cordelia’s friend can’t have the pulled pork which is all of the cooked meat we’ve got in the fridge. There’s a little lunchmeat, and I’ve got some canned tuna. We’ve also got about ten baked potatoes and sufficient shredded cheese to add some protein.
But I think pizza will receive more enthusiasm. Thank goodness I can do that online.
no subject
Date: 2016-09-10 07:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-09-10 08:25 pm (UTC)