Tag: blog

  • I’m Trying

    In 2011, I qualified for SSDI at first application, without an attorney.

    I started attempting to go back to work in 2018.

    There have been lots of attempts to return to work at this point, all reported to the SSA. 

    I desperately want to NOT need SSDI. It is NOT fun. It is not an aspiration. 

    They know I have the photography business; I have applied for all kinds of jobs that weren’t ideal fits in desperate attempts to find any sort of employment that would allow myself to work off SSDI. 

    I have lost count of how many reviews I have been through, including one in-depth but many more shorter ones. Each one, it is utterly depressing to receive the letter saying my disability is continuing.

    I found my original documentation not long ago. My situation was not expected to improve over time, back in 2011. 

    I am not a good judge as to whether it is improving on one day or another. 

    Ultimately, i do think I am more stable than I was in 2011. 

    And some days, like the day I wrote that post recently about getting the house in order, I do feel like I am getting my life in order.

    And yet, I would absolutely love nothing more than for some employer to take a chance on me. 

    After 15 years, it feels hopeless.

    And so, I have turned to volunteering as an outlet. I console myself that I have my wonderful church groups. I have mostly even given up on marketing the photography business because despite loving it, I am not a profitable photographer; I don’t have the business sense to make it work full-time and at 46 years old, I no longer have the stamina. I have spent embarrassingly amounts more on attempting to have a photography business; exponentially more than the small little amount I did ever make. I have one wedding on the calendar at this point, slightly less than a year from now, and nothing else on my calendar. 

    And, I do write, and I publish the posts I write here to a blog, but I have never quite felt like I was able to be profitable as a writer or blogger either, despite that being a long-term dream, too. I do not even know where to begin to actually become a profitable blogger or writer. I write because writing publicly is an extension of the journaling I have done since I was eight years old. 

    And so, there are still hard days, and desperate wishes that I could go back in time and somehow make long-relinquished careers work somehow despite knowing deep down that yes, there is a disability that is invisible to me but is probably wildly apparent to everyone else. 

    And I despise that I have become so reliant on the system, and I desperately do sort of wish self-esteem-wise that they would somehow review me and magically find me not needing SSDI somehow, that yes, that there has been substantial improvement in my condition. 

    And, I know that I am lucky, too, even if I don’t feel that way. 

    But, at this point, I just desperately wish for normalcy, and the ability to support myself, and I am soooo tired of feeling like money is an issue. Because in our house, it is always an issue. And that’s a tough thing to admit with the level of meticulous budgeting I do daily. That could be a whole other post. But it is the truth. 

    Fediverse reactions

  • nothing is in focus right now

    I took this photo with the X-S20. Apparently I am not so good as the selfie culture at making the camera work in focus with the full articulating selfie screen.

    Yeah. Depressed.

    Feeling my age, my ribs are on the move in a twisty way that isn’t fun feeling. Bored, tired of Carrollton.

    Jared tries. He took me out to the Marina again tonight, after taking me on our weekly outing for Burger King ice cream cones.

    Fun fact, at least in Carrollton, GA: You can get two ice cream cones for $2.12. That’s the main eating out we do during the week.

    And all that was well and good. Until I started in on how I hate Carrollton, how I want Jared to find another job so we can move to Atlanta.

    The same old same old.

    And I don’t know why, when I feel rejected, I go on this whole self-implosion thing.

    Something happened last week that made me change some plans in the next couple of weeks. And as it happens, I am going to see my aunt and uncle instead of doing the thing that I was going to do, and I will likely have a far superior time seeing them and being loved on and all that than I would have had doing the other thing, which was probably riskier than I really want to admit it likely was, to begin with.

    And I’m still mad about last December. Mostly because I’m mad at myself for thinking that inviting drama back into my life was a good idea at all.

    I’ve spent the last nine months pretty darn unhappy because of it. And had an arguably necessary-anyway hysterectomy because I got all freaked out about cancer risks because of that encounter.

    I guess in that respect, I should be grateful for last December. It probably wouldn’t have occurred to me to worry about cancer risks if I hadn’t had that encounter last December.

    And mostly I go around mad all the time because it feels, to me, like just about everybody in my life has some sort of purpose, has their shit together, and I’m just sitting at home.

    And I guess it’s accurate to say that some of the people I have in mind do actually have their shit together.

    But none of them are married to Jared Price. I’m the only one who got to do that.

    And probably not many of them are told on a daily basis the things he tells only me.

    It’s about now in the depression cycle that I realize that it’s been about a week since I’ve done a gratitude list.

    The truth is, not much about my life has turned out the way I thought it would, or honestly, the way that I wanted it to.

    And I mostly walk around mad, angry at the world, and despondent because of it.

    And I think back to that 18 year old and I would tell her to ditch all the preconceived notions about how life should go. That it’s all about to change, like, tomorrow.

    But probably, she’d already known that for a good couple of years or so.

    Tomorrow is a new day. I’ll go volunteer in the city with “my ladies,” as Jared calls them.

    And then I’ll go see my aunt and uncle for the weekend, and probably have some yummy Costco mac and cheese, which I haven’t actually had since the last time I saw them, in February.

    And, I do actually realized how privileged it is that I was born into the family that I was born into, and that we can afford to feed ourselves despite the fact that I do not work.

    It does not negate the fact that I feel somehow that I am not living up to my potential, and there have been missed opportunities. And squandered opportunities. And lost time. and lost relationships.

    But tomorrow, I can try again.