A Day in a Life of Me

As far as a real-people-update, this blog is about how 2020 has been going for me. This blog isn't my best work and mere of a play by play- real journal entry. It's difficult being both vulnerable and creative sometimes but I wanted to record it. As my brain's moto goes "let no thing, no matter how small go forgotten." (thank you anxiety)

To talk about 2020, we'll touch base with a few things that happen last year. In March 2019 I applied for Social Security Disability. My application was accepted in October 2019. A surprisingly short 7 months wait, compared to the many months or years full with court dates and appeals, that others have to wait- were long and hard on me. And in October 2019, as a 26 year old adult, after months of paperwork, being unemployed (requirement), struggling and throwing the government all but my first unborn child... I'm thrown into a world of the government watching my every move financially. Struggling with my mental (and physical) health.

I can honestly say the $618/mo. I got in 2019 starting in October, and then the 10% increase for 2020 with $628/mo, and now the "claimed homelessness" with no proof of residency at the moment until Sean and I move into our apartment, so I have proof of residency with a whopping $803/mo from disability has been a financial relief. Not much, but some. It's been 10 month on disability and I feel like it has been a life time.

I live extremely frugally as is. So I know what can be done with the money I currently have access to. I also know people with disability... have disabilities that prevent them from making the best choices sometimes, and often have addictions, impulsiveness and endless health problems that are expensive. However, the back payments of disability allowed me to purchase my $2k vehicle I currently have. It's a 2001 Honda Accord. It doesn't have working air conditioning yet, it has several oil leaks and smells like burning oil most of the time, but it works, it was better and bigger than my tiny manual 99' Nissan, so I'll take it! Honda's are just the best man!

There is also quite a bit of social shame associated with using any form of government assistance. My dad has passed judgment several times for me apply for disability. Proclaiming "I'm living pretty well at the moment." Yeah dad $628/month is pretty nice compared to your $3k-$5k/mo. income, assets, years of savings, etc. Of course he has worked for quite some time to build where he is at, but he told me from the time he was 21 and on, his income was always double his age. When he was 27, he made $54K/ year.... I've never made over $13K/year.... and I'm here to tell you there is little I can brag about, flaunt, or share on a regular basis when it comes to finances.

I just went to my good friends daughters 13th birthday party last weekend! Her husband is quite the talker and him and I haven't chatted in a while. I shared that I was currently on disability and grateful for it through this Covid-19 bullshit. He mentioned "yeah, people really become dependent on that stuff." I was quick to make a joke "yeah I'm really dependent on $628 a month and only allowed to work less than 10hrs a week minimum wage job after that...." His reply was "people lie...what is your disability even about? What disability do you have?" I gave him a glare that insinuated his question had no place to be asked, but answered "My mental health and how many times I have been impatient for suicide attempts and not able to hold down a job long term." Her husband, who also struggles with mental health concerns and jobs hops regularly, thought I wasn't trying hard enough. Him and I share different beliefs on nearly everything, *sighs* but here we are.

I feel like I get weird looks just for using EBT at my cities cheapest grocery store, Aldi's. I turn the yellow/orange card around in my wallet, just so others don't see it. I don't know why I should feel ashamed to eat, but I do. Where I live in Western Maryland while there is some diversity, there is a large majority who put down those who seek or need help. Anyone who keeps up to date with jobs, minimum wages, etc know that much of America believes those who work minimum-wage-jobs should just be teenagers; High school and college students. This idea is not new, and me discussing it here on my blog feels like beating a dead horse in a fucked up political game where no one wins in capitalism. BUT here I am, defending the right that even high school students deserve to make a decent wage, as this government program was originally designed to do.

Some teens and college students have to survive off these so called "entry level jobs". Here we are in a world-wide pandemic and these people working retail and "beginner jobs" are the ones keeping the world running. No extra pay. No health care. And living on food stamps. We aren't as frivolous as my dad's generation implies. I lived with my dad for six years. I never owned a TV, or a devise I wasn't watching Netflix, Hulu, or any other entertainment subscriptions or played video games. I didn't have them. Not that having those simple inexpensive things would some how "make it or break it" as my father would imply and list off all the things "kids my age" waste money on. Fancy phones, cars, getting their hair and nails done, new clothing, tattoos' drugs and alcohol, piercings. *sighs* I can sympathizes with him SOME, but even though I was more FRUGAL than anyone my age he problem he knows, he still blamed me not being stable enough to keep a job long term. This is also something I can sympathize with. You can only save so much, you do need to be making X amount of money to be staying afloat in the first place. His reasoning however is nonsense. He thinks I'm lazy and want things handed to me, and not that I am truly struggling wanting to be alive. I truly prefer to be dead than on disability, but suicide is hard. If it was easy, everyone would be doing it!

So reader... what person in 2020, in their twenties, paid a faithful and honest 10% of their immediate paycheck to their beloved cult and religion they believed was right, followed up putting 30%- 50% of their pay check into savings, because you never know what will happen, mental illness flare up, blow tire.. windshield repair, broken leg? Oh right, probably just me. I wasn't trying to take advantage of my living arrangements of "free rent" with my dad. But yes I did carry an expensive phone. One that allowed me to use it *like* a computer so I may work my various at home businesses. One that took two years to pay off. I still have it and it's now over 3 years old and was fully paid for in June 2019. I use phones until I can't anymore. My dad however has broken several over the years. I've seen him with three different phones he's paid outright in cash, during the time I've had mine, for breaking his so much.

I realize I was surrounded by harmful opinionated bigots. I get it. But no amount of skipping going out with friends, watching movies, Starbucks coffee's or not getting my hair done,

would save me from MY financial arrangements.

Sean's addictions is a Venti caramel frapiccino. I think coffee is nasty.

Because I didn't fall in their stereotype. There are many people who are bad with money, but to clump me into that Cespool of ignorant people all this time has been un-thoughtful and plan wrong. Most of those people just need to be taught how to finance and they would do better. But the economy has sucked or quite some time and it's hard for this new generation to find where we belong and can thrive.

Soooo after all the paper work to fill out, hunt down, print and fax. Phone calls and visits to multiple doctors offices, keeping a planner of all my appointments, and getting myself there. It's been rough... life on disability? Not too grand. Would not recommend. Do not turn around. Do not Pass Go. Do not Collect $200. I carefully plan to the penny how my monthly/weekly budget will look like. Most responsible people in poverty do this, of course I'm not special, I'm giving you a proper briefing.

But Kirsten, don't you work? Can't you be employed and still collect your benefits? Yes, but after almost a year, chatting with multiple people, including the workers at SSA, collecting booklets and pamphlets that summarize the information, all I've pretty much got is "if you collect a pay stub, report it to SSA, under the table work? If your combined income is more than $1500/mo, than you need to start reporting it." Which leaves a lot of room for error and potentially losing your benefits from not doing it correctly. It was so difficult getting them and no one knows how any other this works and can walk me through it?! Why is it so complicated to fill me in? Why don't they have people that do that?

Simple... because they don't want people with disabilities to be able to survive. You are either hoarding and abusing the system, or you've grown dependent of it and are a waste of space.

My life isn't my disability and my disability isn't my life. I believe that food, health care and a place to live is a basic human right. Not something that should be earned. I was raised that I had to "earn" my food to. Through working and exercise. *sighs*

I found this 98' Ocean City memory while moving! (I'm the one in the middle)

This year I also got to learn about Section 8 and government housing options. Let it be known that I applied to section 8 over seven (7!) years ago when I was homeless before moving into live with my dad. When I applied I remember the number being in the three thousands, but in 2019, before being approved for disability, and trying to apply to section 8 again, I realized I was never taken off the list and was all the way to #127 in line. When approved for disability I didn't think to update my application with the housing authorities until March and it bumped my position up almost immediately. (with in the month).

This was in the midst of the Prime of Covid in the the US. (April-May) Mailing was taking forever, I was playing phone tag with peoples home phone numbers and them calling me from "blocked numbers" with their children screaming in the back ground. I was told that I needed to supply proof of citizenship, ID's, etc. and that was to be photocopied IN PERSON by their personnel. Sadly their office was closed and the maintenance people were suppose to do that for me. And on two separate occasions during the hours that John Davies, the housing authority representative I was assigned to, I was told by the people who lived there, that the maintenance office has been closed for weeks! Not only that but John gave me step-by-steps directions where to find the "maintenance door entrance". And it was locked each time. It also had a long Covid-19 note saying it had been closed and would be closed until further notice. Despite John protesting that it WAS open from 8am-12pm M-F, and that perhaps I got lost. I wasn't lost. So I ripped up the rest of my application, sent a nasty email, and told them to fuck right off and remove me!

A bit of an over reaction, but I was done with them wasting my time and efforts. He told me I could just drop my personal information in the drop box across the street. Yeah, because I'm totally going to leave all my identifying information in a box on the street! Similar complications happen with Section 8. And I also decided to turn the offer down. I was told it would be difficult to find a place to live as a 1 adult house-hold on disability. *sighs*

That is when my dad kicked me out and I moved in with Sean, in June. If you haven't read my recent update blog about his foot surgery because of an injury from our beach trip I'll link it here. That's when I found out that my most recent therapist died! It really been one stressful mishap after another. I know life has flat tires, traffic, illness, death and all sort of things, but why the heck is life so damn hard all at fucking once sometimes?

I want to make friends and get out of the house and feel good. But the weather has been miserably hot! And Covid has some major public restrictions for being "inside". Combined that with not having anywhere to host friend visitations and this extrovert is dying on the inside from loneliness. But I know 2020 has been hard on everyone in different ways, this is just my struggle.

At the same time I know I am on the verge of progress but my mental health progression has been put on stand still this year. As much as it hurts me to accept that truth, even attending faithfully the weekly tele-health therapy sessions on the lagging video chats has fucking sucked! My sleep schedule has been botched. Living with several other adults, an infant and dog who randomly has barking fits for no reason (man I hate dogs) was not where I saw myself being. Good news though, our apartment application has been accepted, we view the apartment on Monday and we will be signing paper work and getting keys on Thursday for move in!

Shopping for thing for our new place! I loved this mirror but it's hella expensive! I got a different one at IKEA

I have had several appointments with Dr Ever Ponciano, my primary care physician (PCP), to help me with my asthma and discuss my mental health. I've shot him down over and over about trying new medicine, until roughly a month ago, where I told him I was ready and trusted him. He told me after discussing it so much, he doesn't feel like the best option to manage that unless I had a therapist and psychiatrist also working with me. But I wouldn't need him at all if I had a shrink. and he knows that. They aren't therapists, they are doctors who prescribe pysch meds and pysch meds only. He didn't know that I knew he was using specific language to turn me down nicely. So he suggested making a referral for me to be seen by someone he knew, and perhaps I could get in quicker. I agreed.

Fast forward a few weeks when my insomnia is still wrecking havoc on my life so I called and moved up my appointment with My PCP at Primary Care Ascociates. I had just seen him for my asthma on 7/23/2020 when we discussed me struggling finding another therapist. This was only days before I found out John, my previous therapists died. 🤦‍♀️ During my appointment about my sleep he said "I presume you thought making this appointment I was going to give you something chemical to help you with your sleep?"

Me- Yes, something is better than nothing right now. I'd be willing to take an antidepressant but you won't prescribe me one.

Him- This should be something you discuss with you psychiatrist. What does he think?

Me- Squinting my eyes... "I don't have a psychiatrist?"

Him- .....

Me- ..... You were suppose to put in a referral for one the last time I was here, but I assume with you asking that question you didn't. I've not heard back from anyone? Was I supose to call?

Him- *typing and clicking on his computer.* "Yes I did put in a referral the last time you were here, they haven't called?"

Me- No. So am I suppose to call now?

Him- Yes, that would be good.

Me- Where am I suppose to be calling?

Him- We put the referral for Brooke Lane in Fredrick.

Me- *takes note in my phone to call*

Him- In the mean time I assume you didn't think you were going to be prescribed a controlled substance....

Me: No, I don't need that, at Mertius they give me and many others trazadone for sleeping.

Him: His eyes turn up in a what I presume is a grin under his mask "Yes, that is an anti depressant."

Me: I actually didn't know that, I've only been given it to sleep while impatient, I've never been prescribed it outside of the BHU for daily use... I guess they know what they are doing though.

He was surprised I was diagnosed with PTSD. He was also surprised I told him about having night terrors and reliving some of my sex assaults. He asked me "you've been sexually assaulted?" I told him "yes, many times." He wanted me to elaborate. And that's where I started to freak out. So he prescribes me a Blood Pressure medicine he says has been studied to help improve peoples PTSD symptoms. *sighs* My blood pressure has been elevated my past two visits. That day it was 126/97! We also talked about John dying and he almost didn't believe me. I think I showed him the obituary. I seemed taken back at how passive I was about it when I said "I didn't like him anyways, but he was there for referrals, I didn't think he'd die." When he asked how I was doing outside of all of that, I told him about Sean's foot surgery and how things are struggling in almost every aspect of my life.

I hate being treated like a lab rat, or some drug addict. I wouldn't be asking or help unless I need it. I've said no to a lot of medicine in my past from him because of being scared of their side effects. I've never once used a controlled substance outside of it's intended purpose. (when I have my wisdom teeth taken out, I was prescribed hydrocodone for a few days)

Sooo I guess that is my update. My brain has been foggy and it has taken longer than I wanted to, to share what has been going on lately in my life. I've missed some spots, but for the sake of this blog being so fucking long already. I'm going to wrap it up!