So, I have finally succumbed to the fact that I cannot work enough to support myself and, without proper care, I never will. Between my mood swings (notice how I avoided "the B word" again) and ever increasing anxiety, I am doomed to part time and low income. I hate having to ask my parents for money for anything, let alone everyday living things like clothes, food, etc. I've said before how I like to pretend I don't have a problem, and believe me, I've avoided "the D word" like WalMart on clearance day, but I came out of my imaginary happy world long enough to apply for... Disability.
Just admitting that makes me feel like a lazy, entitled moron who can't be bothered to get a real job. Don't get me wrong, I've never looked down on anyone receiving disability benefits (if for the right reasons), I just have been telling myself I'm normal for so long that I actually believe it. Until I get around actual normal people, that is...
I had help from my attorney to fill out the application (actually, his office manager did it and she's awesome too), and every question about medication and job histories just felt like a knife. As I was thinking back on my job history, I felt more and more like a failure. I've had one job that has lasted more than four months. One. I've had quite a few jobs that have lasted less than a month. I had one once that lasted just one week. Since March of 2011, I've had so many jobs that I can't even remember some of them!
I actually confined myself to my room most of the day because just thinking about what a failure I am sent me into an incredibly fast spiral down to the lowest circle of Hell. Side note: I had to go to WalMart today, as well, and that just made the spiral faster. Why can't I do the things that normal people do? I want to go to work 40 hours each week and complain that I work too much to do anything fun. I want to have that one person in the office that I confide in about how much I hate the boss. I want to contribute to society. Most of all, I want to know that I'm not a burden; on my parents or the taxpayers.
Twitter: @AROTBEblog
Facebook Group: A Ride On The Bipolar Express
Gmail: bipolarexpressride@gmail.com
"Don't Let Me Get Me"~ P!nk
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