Anxiety Everywhere You Look 2

I just got a letter from the Social Work department at A&M. I began to panic. I began to think that maybe they were rethinking my position in the program. I know what I’d said to my advisor through my journal about being bipolar was confidential, but that didn’t keep me from thinking that maybe she said something about it. I carefully opened the envelope. All it said was that I should have a good rest of the summer and that they’re looking forward to my participation in Social Work programs and classes. I’ve really got to stop jumping the gun.

I was told by “Val” at the Mental Health Center that GSK required that I apply for Medicaid before they would send me my next shipment of medication. I searched the site for a program that I would qualify for. The only thing that was remotely close to something I could apply for was the Low Income Families program. That was a long shot, but I filled out the application online. In the end, it said I wasn’t eligible. I was too old. If I had been pregnant, though, then it would have been a sure thing. Well, I called GSK this morning to let them know. Guess what they said? They didn’t want me to apply for Medicaid in the first place. They knew I wouldn’t qualify. Val made the whole thing up. Ugh. And this is the same woman who is supposed to take care of my Effexor and Geodon prescriptions. I used to like her when she was a receptionist, but now as an “advocate” she’s just a huge pain.

I have an appointment tomorrow with the lovely people at the Social Security office about my SSI claim. I had to change my appointment time yesterday and I got to speak to the kindest person in the world. I called and said that I needed to change my appointment. I gave the date and time of my current appointment, but the person needed to know who my appointment was with. I looked on the sheet. There was no name. I told the person this. She kept pestering me to tell her who my appointment was with, and I kept telling her that there was no name. Finally she looked the whole thing up and switched me to that person. The person gave me her name, but I was so close to having a panic attack (phones are evil) that I have no clue what she said. I just know my appointment will be at 3:30 instead of 2:30. Hopefully, I can make that appointment.

I’m nervous about the appointment. I have to take bank statements with me to prove that I’m not to “rich” to receive SSI benefits. I don’t think I have too much in my accounts, but I don’t know. I’m scared that they’ll deny me if I have just 1 cent too much. It’s weird to think that you can be physically or emotionally disabled, but you may not get accepted into a program because you have too much money…even when you don’t have much money at all.

On Saturday, I get to meet Natasha, or, as I refer to her, Tasha. I’m rather excited about it. I’ve never met anyone from online before, so this is kind of a anxiety-inducing thing. I’m happy, but I’m anxious. I hope it goes well. We get along so well online, but I tend to be a bit more shy and awkward offline than I am online. I just hope everything goes well.

Oh, and right now I’m debating with a guy/girl called “Testament” over whether God would love an axe murderer more than a good non-Christian. Apparently, God loves axe murderers more because they’ve accepted Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior. That just seems wrong to me.

About Janet Morris

I'm from Huntsville, Alabama. I've got as many college credits as a doctorate candidate, and the GPA of some of them, too. I have a boss by the name of Amy Pond. She's a dachshund. My parents both grew up in Alabama.