Quote:
Originally Posted by TrixE
It's sad/scary thinking there are people out there like that with such little empathy. I can well imagine it gets old hearing other's problems day in and day out but if that is the case and they can't find any empathy in their hearts any longer then it would seem to me they ought to find another occupation. Disability - it hard to comprehend how the rules are applied. I sometimes think its a matter of luck to some extent who gets your file or if they've had a bad day or row of their own at home. I have been where you are "stuck" with little or no options and no sources of help to rally round you. Without knowing your situation and details its hard to fully fathom the extent of your problems with SS. If you are a single person (no mate to pick up the slack) I'm not sure exactly how they expect someone to survive during the process of applying for disability. Doesn't seem quite right to me because if you're working it disqualifies you but your trying to get by, or if you're not working unless you have a fairy godmother there are things like food and rent that keep coming no matter what. I wish I had an answer for you. Right now my head feels as though its stuffed with cotton balls as I have come down with pneumonia but I am better than I was but not as good as I should be. Haven't been doing anything that didn't have to be done. I hope you find a solution so that you no longer feel trapped.
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If I didn't have
some help, I don't think I could hang. But needing help is cause for many low feelings, in and of itself. Makes me feel ashamed of myself. But when I balance it out, I'll take the help.
The situation with psychiatrist came out of nowhere. I was on the edge, and I had told her the previous visit that was trying to taper off Clonazepam. So this time, suddenly everything is different. She kept telling me she couldn't give me Clonazepam. I kept saying 'I am not here for that.' And 'I know.' But the final thing she said to me was 'I'm still not giving you Clonaz.' I looked at her and said 'No kidding. I never once asked for any.' She said 'Why did you respond that way?' I said 'because that's how I interpreted what you said.' (???????) Then she says 'time is up' and gives me trazadone to help me sleep. As we head toward the door together, she turns to me and says 'You know, I have NO empathy for you.'
(Unsaid) Umm. What? I wasn't asking for your empathy, I was asking for your help. I felt like I was on the verge of doing the undoable, and all she could think was that I was there for 'Clonazepam.' I was totally baffled at the entire session. I kept wondering what these people were doing if not trying to help and save lives?
Sometimes, that method of growing a thicker skin is off the hook. Funny thing. My anger and indignation was such that I decided to live, just to spite her. Even went back to another session. To get my refills. I don't say much anymore. Tell her nothing. Therapist is cool, though. Night and day.
I wonder if I am bipolar. These mood swings are outrageous. They don't go from good to bad. They go from ok to very bad. And back. I am getting extremely sick of it.
Just my 2 cents.