More on being poor

It’s been a while since we talked money.  And yes I am still poor, no change there – surprise surprise.  Ed McMahon hasn’t show up at my door with a big check telling me I have won Publisher’s Clearinghouse (dating myself here…), and hubby’s disability was denied AGAIN. At the hearing level.  What does that mean?  It means that we have a pretty low chance of it being approved- ever.  He has plan B in the works, but until then we are poor.  And I have in some ways gotten use to worrying about money over the years, we’ve been poor for many many years- though admittedly not as poor as we have been the past 5 years.  Anyway none of that is the point….

I am so tired of the way people treat you when you are poor.  Especially how they treat you when you are getting “help” otherwise known as WELFARE it’s a dirty word.  A word people whisper.  In fact it’s a word of a gone by era.  They call it other things now, food stamps are now supplemental nutrition assistance program, and there is TANF, temporary aid to needy families.   The names have changed but the way people look at those in line to spend their food stamps haven’t. They scrutinize what’s in your cart.

People in the community and on television say mean and nasty things about people receiving the help.  Calling them lazy, losers, moochers.  Drains on society.  Assume they all sorts of things about “those people”.

The workers at the Department of Health and Human Services (DHHS).  They are anything by human and certainly not HUMANE.  In the waiting room is a huge poster with a cartoon spy with a magnifying glass requesting people keep an eye out for people defrauding the system and report them.  It’s a very intimidating place.  To a young person I can imagine it would be scary.  To me, it incenses me.  They too scrutinize your every word, they look at you with disgust.  I get they are low paid, over worked employees of the state, but kindness is free.  And I would be willing to bet the majority of people coming through their doors do not want to be there.

I am tired of being judged because of where my life has taken me.  I am tired of people looking down on me and assuming I am a lazy, drain on society.  I have mental illness, I have enough to worry about, I don’t need to worry about the fact that my being poor is yet another thing that makes me different from everyone else around me.  I already live the fact that it makes my life harder.

So next time you see someone swipe their food stamps card give them a smile not a smirk.  If you hear someone lambasting the “welfare rats” remind them most people don’t want to be there.  And most importantly remember- kindness is always free.

Until next time.

What are you going to do?

What are you going to do?

What’s your plan after graduation?

And what are you going to do with your degree?

I get asked that question so much.  Too much.  I want to scream at everyone that I have no clue.  I had no clue when I was eighteen years old and in college and I have no idea now…. maybe even less of an idea.  I am forty-one years old and I have no idea who I am.

Graduation… ah graduation.  18 days away and I literally feel like no one cares. My inlaws doted on my husband all weekend, acting like he was made of glass because of “all the work” he had been doing for school;  My mother in law narrowing her eyes at me asking what I have been doing to be so tired.  As if I hadn’t been up until 3am every night for the past 3 months trying to stay on top of a workload I can’t handle. I am so tired I can barely function.  I am so overwhelmed I waffle from angry to so sad it’s unbearable. And graduation? Well my husband and “so busy” he can’t make it a priority to schedule 2 hours into his day to watch the children so I can pick up my cap and gown.  My mother HAS to go camping – unless there is an issue with her calf that’s to be born that will keep her home that weekend- why even bother.  No one cares- Im not even sure if I do.  I mean what I care about is the fact that no one seems to care.  I know my sister probably won’t make the trip up, she will have just made the trip the weekend before, and I am not reminding my mother in law she just ruins every day she’s around anyway.  Maybe I just won’t go.  Why would I want to waddle up the stage round faced in front of everyone anyway.  Besides I made this really cute countdown, and now, it’s gone.  It was on my shelf next to my desk, and it’s disappeared, maybe it’s a sign.

The evil gremlin inside me is trying to convince me to not do anymore work in my classes, to just not finish to get what I get for grades… It sounds so inviting.  I just want to go to bed and never get out of it again.

Yup, I am feeling sorry for myself again this is why I hardly write anymore, I feel like no one wants to read about some whiney American forty-something woman who can’t seem to get her life together and stop feeling like shit.

 

So done.

Do you have those days/weeks/months/years when you feel like you are just done.  Done with adulting, with fighting for every thing, with trying to get through the day?  That’s where I am today.  Sick and tired of it all.

The IEP meeting went horribly.  All my predictions came true.  And now we are facing what move to make next.  I am already fighting the school to follow the IEP in place for my son, he has two years left.  I don’t have it in me to fight another 10 years for help for my daughter.  It’s not gotten us anywhere.   So we are seriously considering bringing her home for homeschool again.  Ugh.  So many pros and cons- and neither side has an overwhelming majority.

All through the IEP meeting my whole body was shaking.  I tried to take a drink from my water bottle (which I should fill with vodka next time) and I nearly spilled it all over the table.  I even told the OT I disagree with her.  She’s a useless person.  Little one has an incorrect pencil grip, has trouble forming her letters the “right” way – like she starts her S at the bottom, and she many letter reversals- b and d, p and q sometimes a.  Well the OT said they can’t correct the pencil grip and the formation because it’s now muscle memory and would be too difficult to fix.  As for letter reversals they said they do that in K-1 so they can’t do that, plus in 2nd grade they don’t mark those wrong…. so hubby and I countered with – so we will wait till it’s “a habit and muscle memory that’s too hard to fix” and deal with it when she is failing and getting things wrong.  And basically they said yes.  WTH.  They also don’t want to do an OT eval, because of her non-compliance with tests…. I was like, isn’t that indicative of a problem right there?   She had no answer for that. STUPID.

Normally by now I have gotten Christmas decorations out.  I am dreading it this year.  It all seems like so much work.

I am thankful I am done my Christmas shopping other than what I need to get 2 friends.  Things are getting worse, and at least that’s not hanging over my head.

So yeah… done.

Alone

Sometimes I feel like I have no one to talk to, except my therapist. I wish I had her on speed dial.

I have friends. I have family. Sometimes I vent to them. But sometimes I feel like “that friend/family member that does nothing but complain”. And sometimes I just can’t talk about what’s bothering me, sometimes there aren’t words, sometimes my feelings are unreasonable and unrealistic and could cause hurt feelings. So I’ve been doing a lot of stuffing and avoiding.

People are noticing I’m isolating myself. People are noticing that I’m missing. And I care that they notice, and then I feel compelled to rectify that, and then I either stay missing or I go and spend the entire time on edge.

I’ve noticed some friends and I have drifted apart. And I want to get that back, but I just don’t have anything to give.

I’ve tried faking it at home, tried plastering on a smile and be Suzy-homemaker but that inevitably leaves me feeling resentful, and I end up just losing my temper because it’s all too much. Too much.

Thanksgiving was a perfect example of this.  We had 8 of us here, and hubby and I cooked- but mostly I cooked.  Something I always used to enjoy but now… not so much.  And I was stressed to the max.  I dropped all the carrots in the sink, a million dish towels, and utensils.  People at the table were “bickering”… goading each other just for the fun of it.  But I plastered a smile on my face, and only got after everyone once, and told them it’s  Thanksgiving,  cut it out, smile and you will have fun.

After dinner was over my inlaws stayed after my mom and step father left.  We were talking and I made a comment about something wiseass, and MIL said “you’re fine now”.  Like one wiseass comment means I feel fine.  She went on to say that because I was able to put on the meal etc that meant I was fine.  Um, hello? Really?  She wasn’t here yesterday (hubby’s 40th birthday) to see the aftermath of the day.  I was grumpy, had a short fuse, and was exhausted. Today I still am. Seriously, I don’t get it.

Princess Glitter Sparkle (a.k.a. my counselor) wants to call Mary Poppins (a.k.a. med management doctor)… I’m not sure why, I hope she tells me when I see her this week.

We have an IEP meeting for little one on Monday.  I had forgotten about it until I looked at the calendar tonight.  and now I have that to stress about.  I know they aren’t going to give her what she needs. I don’t think I mentioned she was diagnosed with ODD.  Did I mention she ran away from school 2x and came home?  She has OT delays, issues with self-regulation, and stutters.  She reverses her letters.  She’s 8.  We need to find out why.  I have asked for evaluations.  But I am sure she’s not going to get them.  I know I sound like a doomsday-er, but I have been here, done that, bought the teeshirt, and the hoodie, and the towel and the socks.  I am not doing this again.  I will take her out and homeschool her again.  I am just so done.

Did I mention that I went back to school?  Online- no way could I do this in the classroom- though this coming semester I have to take 1 class, 1 day a week at the campus and I am flipping out already.  As if I don’t have enough to do, I decided to finish my bachelors degree, I thought maybe having something to do would help- not so much, it has made so much more stress in my life.  But maybe my mom and some other people in my life will stop being so disappointed with the way my life turned out.  Maybe I will “shine”.

I don’t even want to post this… I know some of the people who know me “in real life” read this, and I don’t want them to think I’m talking about them, I don’t want them to feel the need to reach out, I don’t know what I want.

Posts I never post….

Do you ever pour your heart out into a post and never post it? Just save it to a draft and stuff the feelings down? I do.

I’m a Coward

I’m currently hiding in my bedroom with my dogs… I left my brewing tea downstairs… my son has a friend from school over. Someone I’ve never met. I’m so not cool with it.

Hubby is irritated with me because I’m “hiding”… but I see it as a form of self preservation. My OCD is at an all time high today. During church I had to use a antibacterial wipe on my shirt because the kid behind me touched my shirt. I had to shower because we went to church. I have changed 3 times since coming home because of different contaminants.

It seems like lately I have been in hand washing loops as I call them. I’ll wash my hands, get 5 paper towels, dry my hands shut off the water with said towels, open the door with the towels, shut off the light with the towels, throw the towels away- then have to start over and over again. Sometimes it happens right during DBT. There’s a sink in the room and I will just wash over and over and over.

I hate getting stuck in these loops. It’s irritating to my rational brain, and it makes me feel like a lunatic.

So yeah. I’m hiding in my bedroom. I can’t meet anyone new today.

My Apologies….

Despite my best efforts to keep up with the blogs I follow, I haven’t been very good at it.  There are days I am barely good at getting out of bed.  Please forgive me, and know I am reading as often as I can, and you are all in my thoughts and prayers.