Today was supposed to be a good day. Today I met with the neuropsychologist for the 2nd time and I answered 338 plus three packets of other questions. He asked me questions, I answered as best as I could, with the horrible memory I have. I didn’t take my Adderall because I thought I would test truer, which probably irritated him because me off-Adderall is infinitely more annoying than me on-Adderall. I didn’t tell him.
So I’m this much closer to finding out Mystery Me, the ghost in the brain, the Other Self I’ve been harboring all these awkward, lonely, chaotic years. And when I get a diagnosis, I thought, I could tell the State’s Disability person, I could tell my work, and be free of all the ridiculous things everyone expects me to know when I’ve not read the book. Maybe I could move on to something better…
Life has a way of kicking me in the face. I did interview for a position, but while at the interview, the interviewers told me it’s a temporary position. Well, hell no. I need a permanent position, with full-time benefits, vacation roll-over. I need health benefits, to pay for all these providers that have come and gone, to treat the original reason of Why I Got a Shitty Eval. I also need health benefits to keep my asthma under control — the horrid asthma that, when I was a child, is supposed to have made me hypoxic and caused my brain to “develop wrong”, according to several of my doctors/therapists. Also, I’m having a reunion with my family next month. I told them I could go, got approved to go from my job, and now?
Now the Disability Person from my work is telling me I should reconsider this temporary position because I’m not improving at my job and even the past few months of working is counted. If I don’t consider this position, then my employment could end even sooner than the temporary position. I meet with this person on Friday; maybe they’ll be more humane and promise me a permanent position… yeah, right, when pigs fly.
Either way, I’ll be unemployed at the beginning of next year and this — terrifies me. My anxiety is ratcheting up big time. I feel like I have no power. I feel like they’re slowly squeezing me out of being employed by them simply by having some sort of disability — one that I don’t know an accommodation for. I don’t know what to do… if I’m out of a job, even if I tried really hard at it and my hardest doesn’t work, I’m lost, I can’t make it. I can’t make it in this life.