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Tuesday, August 23, 2016

A Letter for Disability



I've written the letter for the disability tax credit.  I feel so shaky and scared, and I feel like a doofus. How stupid can a person be?  But, these things are the truth, and some I have shared in the blog, some I have not.  I don't talk well, and have a hard time communicating.  Writing is only easy because I can correct what I write.  Real life doesn't afford me such luxuries.  I now realize that when I leave the house, and I see regular people treating me strangely, I now know why.  I've delved deep into myself to find these answers.  I feel terrible and awful.

Fear is like this doggy I keep with me always.  I have not been able to get rid of it.  I pray for God to forgive me and search my heart and see if I am holding back the deliverance myself.  Something I am doing wrong.  Fear is a sin of not trusting in God.  I do trust Him, and I don't know why I am like this.

You might find the letter very simplistic.  But it is authentic.  It was a reaching down without anything fancy, and I didn't add to anything, just said what I really go through.  This is what I want to give to my doctor, and it explains everything in a very real and raw way, and stays present with what I go through.  With it you can see what is actually happening with me, not clouded over with fancy words or descriptions, I just love it.  It is very vulnerable, but I'm worried it might be too vulnerable for a government office.  But, oh well, it is the truth.

Lots of it pertain to the way I think.  I have done a lot of work to get better, so when you read what I wrote, where I said that 'I stay at home lots, there is no one there to make happy', this is a regular thought that I have to continually work through.  I know that we are not to be approval seeking, and that is something of a big saying for me, I'm always preaching on it, but automatic thoughts are just that.  Everything else is work.  Not seeking approval is work.  And time, and that is what this tax credit is all about.

I'm realizing now that I don't have to try to cover everything in this letter.  This letter is just point blank on how I feel, how I manage or not, ways that anxiety affects me.  That's it.  The other stuff will be left up to my doctor.  She knows how I talk and have a hard time communicating.  If you heard me talk you would know that I can't make this up.  How I talk is strange.  Its not exactly stuttering, but I tend to pronounce words that I want clearly understood.  I don't know, it all sounds strange coming out of my mouth, and if you ever heard someone who is nervous all the time, and shaky, well, that is basically how I am.

I've really been struggling in trying to write the letter for my doctor and the disability tax credit.  Its really been kicking my butt.  All last week, it was funny, but I really had a connection to what I was doing, no matter how hard it was.  I was watching ROOTS everyday, and it helped me for I had a hard time obtaining my medical records to give to my doctor.

I had to trace them down from the main hospital, but long story short, I was at the psychiatric hospital, finally, tired.  Emotionally exhausted to the point I was ready to just give up.  I thought, 'well this isn't going to happen.  There are still so many hurdles and I can't even seem to get over this first one.'

So I went to the psychiatric hospital, and they gave me my records.  I don't know if it is my imagination, but it feels like no one wants to do anything, and I get there and there are 2 women sitting in chairs talking, behind the desk of the medical records department.  Somewhere, I know there exists massive files on me including diagnosis' from 2 psychiatrists.  All in regards to anxiety.  Even PTSD.  I can't get ahold of them.

So as I first encountered the 2 women sitting there, I kinda poured out my story.  Even telling them, that I am at the end of my rope, fighting this thing.  I can't seem to get ahold of my records.  One of the women left, she said she was going to lunch and asked if the other was going with her, it was lunchtime.  I looked at the clock, it was 12:20, and I wasn't even thinking, I felt so bad and I realized I should wait somewhere until their lunch was over.  I even insisted she have her lunch first, and I would come back at 1pm.  But she said she was going to do this now, and I felt this connection with her, I find so rare for someone like me, so I really did pour out my feelings.

So one of the women left and the other stayed.  She connected all of my files to give to my doctor, it took up her lunchhour.  I can't even imagine my good fortune, I felt good, and apologized to her, and thanked her, and told her that I know my emotions don't make sense sometimes, and she knew what I needed and took care of it.  I've yet to find so much rarity in a person.

So my doctor's appointment is on Thursday, and all I have left to do is write that letter.  A letter pertaining to how my disability affects me in everyday life.  I am overwhelmed.

A lot of it has to do with the fact that I don't understand my issues myself.  And besides that, I have and had this amazing ability of keeping things a secret all my life, and especially while I was growing up.  So when you get accustomed to keeping things a secret, you forget what is going on, and the only focus will be on keeping that thing a secret.

I remember more of what my mother was really like.  Mercurial and dangerous, isn't that the way I described her before?  It is interesting.  This fear, this dangerous and scary woman, you didn't mess
around with.  You told her what she wanted to hear, whether that was the truth or not, and you have to do it.

I remember one time, mother actually standing over me.  I was on the couch and she was standing over me, I had no escape.  I don't remember the exact details, but she looked so angry, and I was telling her something, through her angry looks, watching and waiting for the right thing I would say that would take off that look off her face.  Well, I was not able to take that angry look off her face, but she backed away from me, still having that look, but I must have said the right thing, for she did not hit me that day, nor did she give me the silent treatment after that, and that look only lasted for a little while longer.

I remember I would get worms lots.  This would make mother angry.  One time I decided to conceal my worms and keep it a secret.  I managed to keep it a secret for quite a while, until one day she did find out and blasted me anyway.  The thing was that I was able to keep her from getting angry sooner. So I could figure it out, or not.

She was always angry.  Even one time I saw her sneezing, and she couldn't help sneezing, and with each and every sneeze she got more and more pissed off.  She gave us all the silent treatment for a long time after that, she just couldn't get over the anger over sneezing.

You would just not talk about anything.  I do have all these feelings, these issues, that I must somehow put into direct words.  This is no easy task.  I watch other people and I wonder how they live their lives in such relative peace, and I long for that more than anything.

I'll keep secrets even from myself you know.  I don't like mailboxes even if no one else is around, for I don't want to know what kind of bad news, this will always come back to me in self blame.  I tend to beat myself up lots, and its time to stop doing that.  Its time for me to realize I need to put down the whip.

Even now, I take tremendous risks in even talking about anything.  When I was recently talking of the movie ROOTS, and how it was helping me, I was worried someone would tell me that it is wrong to do so.  Cause slavery is a very serious issue.  And with me relating that to myself, might be taken in the wrong way.  But I had to, it was like I had no choice, I was drawn to do so.  But if someone was wanting to fight me on it, I know how I would feel at that point in time, that my first instinct would be to go to war for my own significance, and it would be hard for me to peel back the cover and actually be present with that person.  It really would be.  Fear would be taking over, fear that my own significance would be lost and I must do something to regain it.

We all would go to war for our significance.  This is just a plain old fact.  It has historical reasons, but we would do the most horrendous things to stay intact.  For anyone.  But in my case it is a very serious matter.

Its hard to fight that.  I did that some months ago, when that horrible SIL was out for supply.  My yoo hoo, was not in keeping with what I was actually feeling.  I should have just stayed present with that. But if I dared to stay present with her and what she was doing, I know what would have happened. The result would have been terrible,  I have much experience with this.  I was raised under the queen of the narcs, I know what to say to them.  No matter what the outcome is still terrible, but there is terrible and there is terrible, and the safest thing to do would be the less terrible thing.  Or the terrible thing you have managed to "cope" with.   Not that it would be much better, but my nervous system has adjusted in such a way that I can get used to that terrible and not the other kind.  What would kill other people, I am accustomed to.  Even if it is very effed up.

So when I saw those grown men with very substantial jobs shit their pants, and I was the only one who was ok.  Cause, yeah, I was used to it.  I got out somewhat of what I wanted to say, without tipping the scales into the terrible I was not accustomed to.  The terrible that I felt would have been more life threatening than the bitching.  I've seen mother with knives in her hands, you just stayed out of the kitchen while she was slicing a roast, you didn't want to take the chance you might do the more terrible things.  They were always on the backburner, just waiting to be said.

Please, please, please, I hope someone knows what I am saying here.  To me this letter feels literally life threatening.  And the feelings are always more real than the logic.  But no one is going to come whipping me but myself.

Fear has become this irrational belief, that keeps me away from doing things, that, you know I just don't feel safe in this world.  My husband asks me why he has to do certain things for me, when I can just do them myself.  Like drive me around, when I'm doing things I need to do.  Well, its because I will get lost, and my mind has to work overtime.  And I can't do that, all I can do is try to take some things off my plate so I can stay focused.  I told him not to ask why.  I told him I am applying for this disability tax credit for reasons that even go beyond me.  But it most certainly isn't because I am this totally capable person who has only lived a life of perfect daydreams, and teddy bears.

I never told him that the only reason he can kiss the narc butt is because he is not even aware of them. Lots of people can't connect to the truth.  There are movies in which the psychopath grows a conscience later on in the movie and he is the most loving and kindest of all.  Actually, I think these movies attract a massive audience.  So if you want to make a lot of money make a story like that.

We would always try to please mother.  There came a point in time where at least me, just gave up.  Now it was just about survival, staying alive.  This was buried deep into my sub conscience, on the surface I still saw mother as a worthwhile person, but deep inside layed the truth.  So I stopped being honest about a lot of things.  There was just no way it would keep me alive anyway.  The automatic thought processes at the time, was to do what you needed to do, stay alive, but love her anyway.  I guess the love her anyway was a survival tactic too, you wouldn't want her to know that you didn't love her, not that she would understand what that meant anyway.  You couldn't reach her with love, she only had a tangible ability to understand it from observances she make from, I don't know, tv or whatever.  There was no love around us, only in keeping the narc from killing you, and you came up with some rather clever ways to do that.  Seedy ways, if you ask me, and I am ashamed about.  But you do what you have to at the time, you know?

So now, I even wonder what hubby thinks of this situation with the SIL.  We are not going there this summer, it appears she is avoiding him too, and I wonder what the rest of the family thinks of this for it surely has gotten around.  We have not even visited any members of his family in quite a while now, and it feels like everyone looks at me wide-eyed.  That's it.  Their eyes are wide.  Mother's eyes used to get wide.  One time I saw a small feather trying to get into her eyes, and that didn't even threaten to stop it.  I mentioned to her the feather.  She used to sleep on a feather pillow, and the little tiny feather must have gotten out.  It sat that on the lower part of her eye, but she was right in the middle of obtaining supply from me.  And she wouldn't listen.  So at that point I didn't even care if the feather got in her eye and scratched her eyeball.

So wide-eyes. Its hard for me to even talk to someone who does that.  And the whole thing about this letter is that there are no eyes, so I have nothing I can relate to, no feelings, just pour it all out, like its so easy.

But it needs to be done.  I enjoy talking on here.  Outside its hard for me to tell the truth.  I think secrets are what cause my anxiety.  I spend so long trying to keep things hidden, fight for it actually, and when the truth comes out, or at least threatens to come out, I am in a state of panic.

But for better or for worse, I will tell the truth on here.  Otherwise, what purpose does this blog serve.  Since nothing is supposed to be new under the sun, that somewhere out there, there are others who can tell this same story, I will tell the story.  The value would be that maybe I can help them out of fear too, if they are too locked in, they can relate to everything I am saying.

If you have fear and panic you have suffered for so long with, that you can't tell which way is up, perhaps we can find it together.

Another movie I've been watching is the 'The Book of Negroes'.  I've watched it countless times. What I've been really watching is how this woman lives and survives.  I like watching how people survive and live through terrible circumstances, so that I can do it myself.  I'm not a sadist.  I don't know how to survive, and in these stories, they are teaching me how to.  They are how to stories. When the worst comes up, the show still goes on, and I am confident at that point in time I can do it too.  Even if it is just a simple matter of checking the answering machine or the mailbox.  I relate it to these stories.  I need these stories.

But darn, the hubby has been on holidays, and he asked me, "Why are we watching ROOTS again?" So I tell him, don't ask, I don't know why, and my reasons won't make sense to you anyway.  You have no way of understanding, for your understanding is clouded over with pansies and sunshine.

It sounds mean and cold of me.  But he always walks away when I say that.  Its because he doesn't want to go down that rabbit hole, he wouldn't understand anyway.  I'm tired of people not getting me, or understanding me.  And yet, in my mind, I couldn't find a man who really would understand me. There is no one.  I feel I'm fortunate for he is someone who doesn't really watch tv, or needs the tv, he only wants ROOTS to stop playing, for to him it is getting monotonous.

So how do I explain any of this to the government?  They have tangible questions, and things are so hard for me to explain that nothing is tangible.  My mind is racing to find a way to explain all this that would be relative to them, but that just takes away my story, you know?  I don't want to downgrade this, but at the same time, how do I make crazy sound normal?

I did get some good advice in my last posting.  Basically to keep things tangible.  Tell them how I have time issues, and issues with OCD.  Good memory huh?  The thing is, I have a good memory with some things, but to remember an address or where I put a phone number is hard for me. Impossible really.  Tell them it was child abuse, but keep that part relatively simple.

So here :

I mean, I was struggling and struggling, then all seemed to be well.  I was holding this big envelope with the info for the doctor, and even my husband was amazed.  My feelings going into the hospital were dim.  I was running out of hope in obtaining the files, and I really didn't  believe anyone would help me.

So last week I was busy.  Now, I'm going to put this letter in ACON format , then I'm going to attempt to put it into a letter for the government.  I took lots of advice from 2 postings ago, so I feel like I'm ready.

I've really done a lot of things that enable me to live a somewhat normal life.  That is a life from being an engulfed daughter to someone who can make it, but only with a great deal of time and effort. This time and effort is not afforded in a normal life, so I have specialized equipment to help me get there.  I have help with my husband and youngest daughter, they are the only ones, my daughter especially, who are able to understand what I go through.  They are my equipment.

Now back to that letter.  My doctor now, wants me to write a letter on how my anxiety has affected me and still affects me.  This is so complicated.  I don't know.  If they deny me, it will feel like a big 'no it isn't true.'  And if I fail to convince them that I do have this disorder, well, it will feel like invalidation.  But I have all the records.  I did everything I can do.  I got it all.  My appointment is on Thursday, so I have to really get on this thing.

I did somewhat, the posting before last, and that one was hard for me to go through.  Even now.  So much is on the line if I don't convince them, including my own validation.  Its almost like, I need their validation now, I didn't before, but now since I opened up this can of worms, I need to follow through, or else my whole life did not matter.

A government agency is going to do what they can to deny me.  That is what they do.  I have to convince them.

I do need support with anxiety.  Even my husband had to go with me to the hospital to get the records.  I would have found all of it too hard to handle.  Even my daughter has to come with me to a birthday party this weekend for my stepdaughter.  There will be tons of people there, and my daughter will make me feel more comfortable.  She is the only one who understands what I have to struggle with, that is my youngest daughter.  The others just pshaw it all off.  But she does understand, so she kind of babysits me.  This makes it hard for me in socializing.

Of course I'm just adding to my last post, this is not the letter.  In relationships it is hard for me to be present with someone, for my mind climbs to the highest disaster possible.  Or I don't see someones bad intent for me.  I had a abusive childhood, so the bad intent does not come automatic thought process, like it would for anyone else.  So if in a relationship, I am getting hurt, I will give the person the absolute benefit of the doubt, whether they have earned it or not.  Be that with my parents, or with a relationship.  I know I have to explain this one better in the letter.  I've had 2 serious abusive marriages, and this is all in the record.

And oh gee, this one is hard to explain. I get misunderstood lots.  I can't seem to make clear my thoughts or feelings to other people.  It all comes out incoherent.  I think I speak a language no one else understands.  I can't be around other people for very long, things spin out of normal for me.  I can't understand them and they don't understand me.

Doing all the normal things like even getting dressed in the morning, takes an enormous amount of effort.  In ACON terms, we know this is caused by self blame, self anger, taught to us by our nparents, but it all comes out as disoriented thoughts, and these thoughts turn into bad feelings, and that feeling of a striking knife in the middle of my chest.  I have to work to get the knife out before I can even manage to put on my socks.

Since I have to always apologize for things I do or don't do, this makes me a target of abuse.  Others see me, and any predators can enjoy a nice feast if they want to.  I seem to be always fighting fear of getting hurt.  And all this hurt, I can believe I deserve.  I've been working on this.  Counselling was never able to help me, so I turned to a relationship coach, and in the attempts of healing my relationship with my current spouse, I've healed a lot of me.  Sure, it all takes a great deal of work, time and effort.  No one has such time in a normal setting, so I can't live in a normal setting. Automatic thoughts are still very messed up, and I have to work on them.

I bounce around from one bad feeling to the next.  So it goes on and on.  This will probably never end.  My main work is spent in not avoiding any feelings.  I have to train myself to feel.  Every single emotion, bad or not.  I have this natural tendency to try to block them, this is resistance.  So I even go beyond what normal people do, and I stay present with my emotions.  If I don't they will turn into bad thoughts that make no sense, but I am stuck with them.  So when resistance comes up, I have to deal with it.  Or I will have quite a few days of hiding at home.  I can't talk to anyone, I just am scared.

I wish I started this letter when I was first asked for it.  But at that time I was overwhelmed with obtaining the other information.  None of this was very easy.  I was like I had to feel that self condemnation first, and really feel it.  I believe you can't get through without acknowledging you have that feeling.  It will linger otherwise.  And this lingering creates a blockage of me being able to do anything else but feel lousy.

I think this is all sufficient for a one page letter to my doctor.  So here goes:

THIS IS THE ACTUAL LETTER GOING OUT

I do need support with anxiety.  Even my husband had to go with me to the hospital to get the records needed for my doctor.  I would have found all of it too hard to handle.  Even my daughter has to come with me to a birthday party this weekend for my stepdaughter.  There will be tons of people there, and my daughter will make me feel more comfortable.  She kind of babysits me.  This makes it hard for me in socializing.

In relationships it is hard for me to be present with someone, for my mind climbs to the highest disaster possible.  Or I don't see someones bad intent for me.  Or I see someone's bad intent, but for me, its just normal.  I had an abusive childhood, so I don't see bad intent as being bad.  But it still scares me.  So if in a relationship, I am getting hurt, I will give the person the absolute benefit of the doubt, whether they have earned it or not.  Be that with my parents, or with a relationship.  I've had 2 seriously abusive marriages.  I can't distinguish how they might hurt me, all I feel is needy and scared and I find someone who doesn't mind that.

At present, I've only been with him for a few years, and a lot of it has been difficult.  He is not abusive, but I find myself unable to talk to him, unable to get my needs met, spoken or unspoken, I have a hard time expressing myself.  Really, I don't know how at all.  This has been addressed in counselling and they tried to correct it, and with medication too, and nothing worked.  We spend a lot of our time doing things apart, with him only helping me when I need it.  When I can express it correctly, and I ask so that he can understand.  He is getting better at this.  Usually I have to blurt out everything I have to say, coherently or not, then he has to figure it out.  I am usually left feeling very panicky at this point, and ask him not to ask me anymore questions.

He is the one who checks all the phone messages, mailbox, and before I met him these things filled up till I could just barely open it, and throw it all out without looking at any of it.  He will never be able to depend on me for banking or paying bills, I can't do that either.

I get misunderstood lots.  I can't seem to make clear my thoughts or feelings to other people.  It all comes out incoherent.  Its like I speak a language no one else understands.  I can't be around other people for very long, things spin out of normal for me.  I can't understand them and they don't understand me.  And they get mad at me.

Doing all the normal things like even getting dressed in the morning, takes an enormous amount of effort.  If I can't figure out what to wear, it can take a long time to figure it out, I'm caught up in what the weather will be that day, and it all comes out as disoriented thoughts, and these thoughts turn into bad feelings about myself, and that feeling of a striking knife in the middle of my chest.  I have to work to get the knife out before I can even manage to put on my socks.  I get stuck in a bad feeling, I can't figure out, I just give up getting dressed.

I have to always apologize for things I do or don't do, it feels like death if I don't. I've been working on this.  It all takes a great deal of work, time and effort.  No one has such time in a normal setting, so I can't live in a normal setting. Automatic thoughts will still happen, and I have to work on them.

I don't easily end up in happy relationships, or social settings of any kind.  If that were the case I would be paranoid and very uncomfortable.  I don't feel safe.  I don't know why.  I feel safer and more comfortable when I'm not placed in environments where a whole lot, like human communication, is not expected of me. Or I'm seen as weird, unable to be coherent.

I work on my feelings and emotions.  My main work is spent in not avoiding any feelings.  I have to train myself to feel.  Every single emotion, bad or not.  I have this natural tendency to try to block them, this is resistance.  So I even go beyond what normal people do, and I stay present with my emotions.  If I don't they will turn into bad thoughts that make no sense, but I am stuck with them. So when resistance comes up, I have to deal with it.  Or I will have quite a few days of hiding at home.  At that point,  I can't talk to anyone, I just am scared.  And my grown children see this.  My oldest daughter is not talking to me right now, for I couldn't do something she needed of me.  She needed me to babysit at the last minute.  I stay at home all day, why couldn't I do this?  Because I need a few days to get up and go.  And I can't explain it to her in any way she can understand.

Only to the husband I can communicate incoherently and he somehow is getting used to this.

I get people mad at me for I can't remember what they tell me sometimes.  I try to figure stuff out on my own instead of getting people angry.  But when that doesn't work, and its all gone wrong, they get mad at me anyway.  Everyone is always angry, I like to be alone.

Only when someone understands me, and allows me the freedom to be the way I am, then they can see that I am a good person.  If not then, people see me as untrustworthy, or undependable, and that feels awful.  So its back to that feeling of 'awful' and work my way back from there, like I've done many times.  This awful feeling makes it hard to focus, so I just stay alone.  I'm going to not remember what has to be done anyway.

I stay alone at home lots.  There are no unmanageable challenges that way.  No one to keep happy. My breathing is more stabilized.  I'm comfortable.  I don't shake so much.  The fear of someone catching me off guarded is always with me though.  I just won't answer the door when I'm alone.

As long as I have someone to help me out through my challenges, and/or time to do it, it all can go well.  I can't do it otherwise.  So those are the things I need, is help from a few family members and/or time to do what needs to be done.  I do get locked down in my anxiety, where things don't even make sense anymore.

My education has not benefited me at all.  These challenges make it so that I don't talk well, work well, I can't put things in order what I have to do in a day.  I have to live with everything coming apart on me all the time.  My husband doesn't depend on me to do his errands, he knows I can't.  I can help the children with babysitting, I am used to raising kids, and little ones don't have all these massive expectations, and with no one watching me, I am an awesome caregiver, even with things falling apart at the seams.  But I can't do it all the time, it does make me tired.  For I do run into things that I do have to plan and organize and I just can't do it at all.