Dispicable ... them

I find myself sitting in awe of just how vile my employer actually is... and this time I mean the financial institution from whom I receive my pay. Or not.

 

To catch up, our consumer proposal had to be withdrawn because Revenue Canada is refusing to settle my 2013 taxes. You know the one where I don't owe $15K. Yeah ... that's the one. 

 

Anyway, to put a positive spin, we can re-file once this all settles. It sucks we couldn't get it behind us, but it certainly could be worse.

 

I am off on medical leave. I have gotten bad enough that I really can't handle that office. I am simply awaiting treatment. Not trying to screw anyone ... just want treatment. I tried my EAP. They couldn't help. I tried the insurance company that provides my benefits, they couldn't help. Both would cover a psychologist, but neither would do psychiatry. I am stuck with MSI.

 

Unfortunately, MSI has limitations and ... very ... long ... wait ... time. It isn't my fault. My referral has been in since mid May. We're talking around 10 weeks now. I have an appointment for Sept 6th and the only reason I got that was because I made a nuisance of myself. I would have been looking end of Sept to early Oct. But the appointment is with a Nurse Practitioner.

 

So ... I will have waited well over 100 days just to be triaged. It friggen sucks.

 

I want to start getting better. I cannot imagine how I am going to keep going like this. I am so tired. So raw. So afraid of everything. My mind goes to 'worst case scenario' in every situation. Here's a 'for instance'; we had crazy thunder and lightening storm the other night. Normally, I LOVE thunder and lightening... I was still taking that attitude outwardly (for the kids) ... but inside my head all I was thinking was that it was mortar fire I was hearing. That the port of our fair city was under attack. My throat closed up and the panic set in and all I kept thinking was that we needed to start running away, instead of sitting here like morons, watching a thunder and lightening storm. 

 

I wish I was exaggerating, but I am not. 

 

Last night, my husband took me and the girls for a walk up to a local lighthouse around sunset. It was breathtaking. The road we walk up is barred with a locked gate. The lighthouse does operate, so I imagine people do work up there now and then ... but this was Sunday at sunset. There were two trucks parked up at the lighthouse. Queue 'Worst Case Scenario Girl'. I was certain they were bad people, up to nothing for which they'd want witnesses. I refused to walk all the way up. My husband doesn't understand ... but he still turned us around, bless him.

 

Last week, I was in the tub. I heard Hubs go out the front door. In my mind, one of my cats had been hit by a car. I was so frightened to get out and find out it was true. It turned out he was just letting one of them in.

 

It is exhausting.

 

My doctor wants me to go outside every day and exercise. I fight it, but I am trying to overcome that ... because she swears to me it will help. So I do it. Tonight we went biking. Wednesday, I have my second of six introduction to yoga classes. She also wants me to schedule my days. My mind is incredibly active and I need to work hard to keep it reigned in. Schedules are important.

 

I am trying.

 

So, riddle me this - why did I spend another 40 minutes of my life defending myself to my company's "Health Services" department, today?

 

This woman grilled me like chicken. "Well ... do you have a shower every day? Do you cook or do house work? Do you go outside? Do you drive?" ... just to name a few of the questions. This is my THIRD grilling, by the way. I still don't have a clue if I am even on the path to getting access to the short term disability that I HAVE BEEN PAYING FOR. No idea if I will get paid this week. She knows what the proposed diagnosis is, by the way. Yeah. Bi Polar disorder. A major mental health illness. Yet I spent most of an hour defending the fact that I am trying to get better.

 

Why is it that I need to feel like following my doctor's orders is somehow wrong of me in the eyes of the 'Health Services' people? She is grilling me. All I want is to get better. I don't give a fuck what their HR manual says. Fire me, for fucks sake! I'm not going back to work until I am under treatment for this disorder. That is the end of the story. Do I need to have stage something cancer in order to qualify for medical leave? And ... let's be real here ... I don't understand what the hell is going on inside of me. I'm like a complete stranger to myself. If they are calling someone into question, why isn't it my doctor?

 

This is so incredibly despicable, it actually smells.

 

Meanwhile, my actual boss has demanded his office keys back. What the hell does that say to me?

 

Anyway ... I don't really care at the end of the day. I mean, we need the money. I need to be working. We are trying to rebuild our lives. We are trying to move forward. More than any. other. thing, I want to be better. To stop with this constant pain. Constant evil monkey-brain ... and that monkey is a cunt. She says the absolute worst things about me. She sounds like crinkly paper at night. A constant susurrus of negativity, anxiety and paranoia. All fueled by the overwhelming evidence to hand that I am bad. I am a liar. I am a dirt bag ... and the universe is insisting I suffer.

This sucks donkey sack ... and all I am trying to do is get better. Why do I have to be interrogated by these people. I am sick, for fucks sake!

Part of my orders was to write. Even if I hated what came out ... just keep writing until it becomes creative again. All of this black, sticky tar needs to get out of me. Through yoga and bike rides and camping trips and days at the beach... and with writing and slowing the hell down before I am a statistic that I don't want my kids to have to shoulder.


Until next rant ...