Success!

Very brief post here, but I wanted to jot down what happened at the Department of Health and Human Services today. I got there an hour early (Because, face it, it's not the kind of appointment you want to miss; they can give and they can take away.) My new caseworker was so much better than my old caseworker, who made me cry. Of course, at the time, I'd only been out of the hospital a month. But this caseworker wasn't trying to tell me that a cell phone bill didn't count as a phone bill and yada yada. In fact, when I told her I never meant to have Jb on my food stamps account, she went ahead and took him off, even though I'm technically supposed to send in a form. And get this, with him off, my food stamps go from $58 to $168. Wee bit of difference.

As for the Temporary Disability/Cash Assistance, that's reviewed in December, and she's going to review the food stamps in December, too, since she wants to be efficient and not make me come in more times than necessary. She also said that as my medical assistance (i.e. health insurance through Maryland) lasts until April, my food stamps and cash assistance will probably be approved and renewed until then as well. Whew. One less thing to worry about.

On the down side, I still haven't received the packet from the medical assistance program that has my card or the information I need to start receiving those benefits. And the two therapists I was referred to through the mental health program don't work for the assistance program anymore. So yet another set of strike-outs. I swear, getting a therapist has been the hardest thing I've ever had to do out here. One guy offered to take me, but only for $350 up front and another $200 each session. I nearly cried I laughed so hard.

Oh! And my stimulus check came from the government. $600 big ones. And all of it is already spent. Go figure. But it's on necessary things. Some very expensive, out-of-pocket medical things, a couple new blouses to do interviews in when I'm ready for that, and a haircut that I've been dying to get. So, things are looking up. And despite the nerves, I felt okay today.

Morning Check-In

Sleep: Up since 8:30ish. Not so bad. Had Jb still been around this morning, I'd have begged him to take a day off. Don't want to be alone today. Slept fairly well last night, though, I think.

Dream: Had a dream about my ex-husband. How we were both dating now, how we'd both changed, seen the changes in each other, and wondered if those changes would have made a difference when we were still together. Sure that they would have. But that all passed us by.

Cigarettes: Still smoking. Probably a good 4-6 yesterday. It's good I bum off Jb so they're not around during the day, though I could use some later when I go to the DHHS.

Weight: Don't want to look. No need to ruin an already stressful day. Besides, we ordered in last night and I had a P'zone, so that can't be good.

Meds: Compliant. Took them last night and this morning.

Food: Protein Boost Special K (the psych says I need protein) with a little milk and an apple.

Mood: Enh. I'm here. Like I said, this morning I was a little grasping, would have wanted Jb to stay home, which he wouldn't have and couldn't have. I'm intensely lonely and isolated right now due to the unemployment. It's made me needy and restless. Think it might be time to find that part-time job when I get my stimulus check and can afford a new blouse to interview in.

To Do: Should call HealthChoice and see if they sent my insurance package yet. Need to reschedule psych appointment. Need to schedule a PCP appointment for blood work. Need to find a therapist, which means making some calls.

The Bad Part of My Day: Have an appointment at 4:30pm at the Department of Health and Human Services to review my need for food stamps and temporary cash assistant/temporary disability assistance. Both rather important things that are helping us get by right now. So, of course, the stress about this started last night.

Relationship: Jb and I are snapping at each other a great deal. I'm ugly and mean a great deal of the time, irritated by everything and hateful. It shows in contempt and so many other ways that I feel like if I can't control this, get even somehow, I'm going to ruin everything. I used to treat my ex this way, and it's little wonder he never wanted much to do with me. He was always happy to go his own way. I'm sure, toward the end, he never felt loved. How could he?

I miss friendship, though. Not the constant caretaking of a relationship, but the ease of a friendship where you're allowed to be who you are without having to worry about stepping on someone's overly sensitive feelings. Everything becomes internalized in relationships, when I'd really rather just have someone to listen and say, "Yeah, that really sucks, you know?" And affection, an arm around the shoulder, a hand at the small of my back, some actual caretaking, the kind you get from a parent if you have good ones: a shoulder rub, a smoothing back of your hair, a body to curl up into and hug, a sense of safety and being loved. I get tired of paying bills, doing dishes, doing the grocery list, cooking, doing this or that, being responsible for this or that. I feel like I'm only good for the things I do in this relationship, and I'm tired of taking all the responsibility for these things. It's too much, and I resent it.

8:24am Aargh

Could not go to bed last night. Tried. Honestly, I did. Sort of. Jb crashed around midnight, and I was still wide awake. Read some of Nora Roberts' Blood Brothers. Still convinced that she is a deceptively good writer. Stupid me, I held out for years thinking such a prolific writer must be a hack. Way to go, jackass. Granted, her novels--the ones I've been reading, the more supernatural ones--have the same structure: 3 women and 3 men brought together to battle some sort of evil, and in the process of the three-book series, they all hook up. But she does a wonderful job of characterization and creating a sense of a non-nuclear family, but a family all the same.

Anyway, off track. Could not sleep last night. Woke up several times. Up at 8:24am. Groggy per usual, but I don't know, my sleep pattern is definitely shifting. I'm finding it harder and harder to not stay up half the night like I used to. The fact that I resist sitting there watching Adult Swim all night helps, I'm sure. But reading with the light on probably doesn't. Still, I can't just lie there and think, and think, and think. Because I start thinking of blogs to write, or scenes to write, and what's happening in the book, or what I'd do or say if X, Y, or Z happened. Feh. Useless, stupid things.

From Up to Down in 10m Flat

Jb and I go out driving, one of the things we do almost every weekend since we've so little money. Usually, it's just what I need: time out of the house, good tunes, time with Jb away from the tv and the computer. Today, it's fine for an hour and a half. Then we end up at a lighthouse surrounded by a barbed wire fence that makes the shabby attraction look like a prison yard with the Chesapeake just beyond the fence, a concrete divide between the haves and have nots: those who can afford to be out boating on the lake and those who stand, locked away from the private beach. It's hot, depressing, and we're an hour and a half from home. I'm restless to get gone, and snappish by the time we're back in the car. The second half of the drive is full of crap music, silence, and then a song comes on and starts triggering me. I'm suddenly desperate for home, missing my family, my childhood, thoughts full of the last ten years, the knowledge that I'm already 32, almost 33, knowing the likelihood that I'll be anything come 40 enough to make me tear up, and there I am, crying behind my sunglasses, trying not to let Jb see, even when he's asking what's wrong. And what is there to say? I'm sick of always saying: I don't know. I just went from fine to depressed in 10 minutes, and I'm so pissed at myself that the disgust is thick. I'm tired of this. Jb must be tired of this. I can't ride these crests and dips. I know, there, in the car, that I need someone to talk to. I need to find myself a therapist. And soon. Because I am not dealing. I am not dealing with this up and down, this here and there, and the guilt of my mood always affecting the people around me that I love is strong. I'm so frightened that they'll suddenly see, suddenly see me, and throw their hands up in frustration, wash their hands of me. I can hardly blame them when I feel like doing the same myself sometimes. I'm even convinced, sometimes, that it'd be better for everyone involved if I lived my own life, away from everyone else's.

And Away She Rides

I'm soaring right now. It's 11:53pm and my eyes want sleep, but inside, inside I'm wired. I've been like this most of the day, neither here nor there, not able to concentrate on any one thing. Spurts of productivity followed by spurts of a scatter shot mind. Tonight's trigger is Carbon Leaf, "Under the Wire," "Love, Loss, Hope, Repeat" and "The Girl and Her Horse." When Dar Williams used to send me flying with songs like "The Ocean" and "Iowa," I used to wonder if certain chords triggered certain states. If there was a correlation between sound and mood. If songs in the key of G were the ones most likely to set me galloping, and maybe those in the key of E, maybe those were the ones that sunk me. Sure, stress, seasonal change, major life changes, these are all triggers, but I swear that my daily triggers are much smaller: music, poetry, books, writing, ideas. I'm two for two today. I'm reading the kind of good, effortless writing that kills, sets the characters off in my head, until I'm doing as much fantasizing about the book as I am reading it. Ten pages read, twenty minute intersessions, lost in make believe and a vast inner world that's all too easy to slip into. And music, if it strikes me, I listen to over, and over, and over, ad nauseum. I can't get enough of the high it sends me on, of the thought of an open road, an open window, wind whipping fresh in my face. It's the runaways, and they're worse at night. Night drives are as much a trigger as the result of a trigger. They're my great escape, my run for the border. Something has to fill me up inside, freedom, miles, lights. And I want one tonight, but Jb can't keep up with me tonight. So I'll lie in bed, good and sweet, and my mind will go 'round and 'round, setting up scenarios, letting characters come to the fore, focusing on phrases, the repetition of words, until words are only sound, and the sounds become foreign, and I keep repeating them, repetition bringing them back 'round to meaning. But there's no sleep in that, not until my body simply gives way, or my mind runs out.

About Damn Time

Finally sat down and wrote the prologue to a three-book series I've plotted out. About damn time. I'm almost somewhat happy with it.

Couple pages down. Couple hundred more to go.

Procrastination

I'm anxious. I just got up to open the door and look outside. I'm pacing around the apartment. Can't play WoW. Can't play Fable. Can't watch tv. Can't read Nora Roberts, and dammit if Blood Brothers isn't a compelling read. But none of it's sticking. Ten minutes here, ten minutes there, too much thinking. I'm feeling that itching beneath the skin, the one you can't scratch, the one that makes you jittery, like you've had too much caffeine. I feel like there's something I'm missing. I know there's something I'm not doing. I'm not writing. I should be writing. I have the first two scenes clear as day in my head, have had them since last week, and they're not down on paper yet. What's the problem? Why the fear? Who cares if they come out good or bad. What's the harm in writing them. But I'm not. And I know I should be. And so I'm caged, between want and fear.