After my recent rejection by social security it admittedly took me a few days to pull things together and call my disability advocate.
I have really extreme anxiety talking on the phone, and having to talk to someone about business over the phone really lends itself to that tenfold. Thankfully I left two messages over the course of last week before she called me back (in an excellent mood) and apparently social security forgot to send my rejection to my lawyer’s office. The advocate said she needed to send me some more paperwork to fill out.
So… the paperwork came last Wednesday. Just retrieving it from the mailbox felt stressful enough for one day. The next day I opened the envelope, but didn’t look inside. And the last few days, well, it has been sitting ominously on the windowsill staring at me, crying out “open me, open me!”
What I’m slowly figuring out is that my anxiety has something to do with expectations. Do I expect something to be painful? If so, the amount of dread associated with whatever it is has been completely crippling. Does somebody else have expectations of me? If so, the pressure is equally as crippling, but more in a deer-in-the-headlights kind of way.
This morning I woke up knowing full well that I needed to at least read what was inside the envelope before doing anything else. The last two days have been ones of mild depression where I can’t seem to get motivated to do anything more than sit on the couch and play video games.
Today, I decided, would be different. Even if I was going to be depressed today, I needed to pull it together enough to deal with this paperwork. And the sooner I get it done, the sooner I can go back to not thinking about it.
So I took the best route I know for dealing with unpleasant situations… I filled out the paperwork like ripping off a band-aid. RIGHT OFF!
The paperwork consisted of seven pages of questions asking if my disability has gotten any better (no), if I’ve been receiving treatment (yes), and if I’ve been working or going to school or anything since applying (nope). In the end it really wasn’t as painful as I was expecting.
Now I’ve mailed it, and I can wait for the uncomfortable feeling of disgust to evaporate.
And I know what might help that evaporation happen a bit faster.