Pit bulls, bad horror, good music, comics and cartoons - that's really the extent of who i am. i'm a lot more deadpool than i am disney princess. sarcasm comes with the territory.
I'd love to make new friends.
So I just got home from the doctor’s. It’s been two whole weeks since I’ve been to a doctor. This was the infectious disease doctor again. Who essentially told me I’ve dealt with all the side effects of 3 weeks worth of 1500mg a day of amoxicillin….because I don’t have Lyme disease.
Oh yes. You read that correctly.The lab was wrong. I don’t have Lyme.
Which is great! Yay!
But not yay. Because it means we are back to square one. And it doesn’tlooklike an infection….but let’s take more blood and test you for this this this this and this. And it’s probablynotthose things, so we’re going to refer you to this guy this guy this guy and that guy for these tests and this study and then we’re gonna see whatthisblood work says.
So, at this point, we know what it isn’t. And it’s nota lotof things. But we don’t know what itis.So we can’t treat it. Which means I’m gonna end up in horrible pain if I’m on my feet for more than 4-6 hours. Which means I can’t physically do my job, 5 ten hour shifts a week on my feet constantly. Which means I need to go see my regular doctor about continuing my disability, but I can’t even get him to answer the phone, let alone write me another note.
The ID doctor told me today that my best bet was to find a job that isn’t “as physically taxing.” As physically taxing. So, not retail? No. Not retail. But what? It’s not like I’ve worked enough in any “non-physically taxing” field to be able to have any kind of experience. It’s not like I can just say, “Hey, I can’t really do all of this stuff, so…..what else can I do here?” to my current job.
So now, I don’t know what to do. Find a new doctor and have him write a letter to the unemployment department about why I have to quit my job? Or just quit and find something else in the form of part time jobs or what. I don’t know. I can’t afford to not work. I’ve been out for 3.5 months. I can’t stay at home forever. I need a job and I can’t do the one I have.
So what the hell do I do now?
Because it does not in fact make any sense contained in my head.
So here we go.
I am 24 years old. I have a full time job as the assistant manager of a cosmetics store. I work 45 hours a week, closer to 60 when commute is counted in.
I suffer from Bipolar Disorder. I suffer from Generalized Anxiety Disorder. I suffer from Wilson’s Disease. I potentially suffer from Fibromyalgia. And then there is this mystery ailment that is causing my body to not oxygenate my blood properly.
I pay my own rent. I pay my own utilities. I am paying off a college loan ever so slowly. I am also slowly paying off a debt to anesthesiologist. I pay about $400 a month to them, combined. I pay about $700 a month for rent and utilities.
Yet, currently, I can’t work, because I am sick. Meaning I currently can’t make money. Meaning I can’t afford to go to the doctors to find out what is wrong with me. Meaning I can’t go back to work. Meaning I can’t afford to pay the doctors. Meaning I can’t get the medications. Meaning I can’t go back to work.
So no working.
Means no getting better.
No getting better.
Means no working.
I can collect disability, which is roughly 60% of my current salary. Meaning I wouldn’t have the money to pay my rent and my bills, let alone afford the upkeep on my car, food, or my puppies.
….So, this is the American Dream lately.
My American dream is simple. I want a comfortable home. A fenced in backyard. The money to turn on the air conditioner when its too hot out. The money to sign my dogs up for the training classes they need. The money to fix the shaking my car does whenever it goes over 45MPH.
Maybe enough money to take a day off from work if I’m having an empty day. I don’t want to be on disability or unemployment. I don’t want someone to take care of me. I want to work for what I have. I want to make life work with what I have.
Why is that so fucking hard?
Sitting in my shower until my skin is blistering red just so I feel something doesn’t much feel like better. Randomly bursting into tears and begging for things I haven’t had in six years doesn’t seem an improvement. Laying in bed until I can’t stand to be there anymore and know that sleep isn’t coming doesn’t feel better.
I want to quit my job, but im afraid of what it will do to me. I’m afraid I’ll just stop leaving the house and become even more withdrawn than I already am. I’m afraid I’ll just give up more than I already have. I’m afraid more people will stop wanting me around because of the fact that im a loose cannon.
I fly off the handle. I cry at random. I revert into an unfeeling mass and cling to memories, a bandanna and a sweatshirt as if they’ll save me or bring back what I wish I actually had.
I cant stand to be alone but I hate being around people that think they can fix everything for me.
I’m going to give in and be unemployed for a while. I am. But im so fucking scared its going to hurt more than it helps.