One of those crazy thoughts that I have when I\’m off my medication happens to be a dangerous one.
Dammit, I don\’t need my fall back crutches, I\’m tired of having four different government agencies inspect my finances and one agency inspect my apartment every year, sometimes several times a year. I\’m tired of feeling like I\’m trying to hide most of my life; I know that I\’m poor and that I qualify for disability, but COME ON, it is NOT humanly possible to get by on their monthly stipend around here (due to high cost of living) so of course I\’m breaking the rules — most all of us do. But I\’m tired of hiding it. I\’m tired of trying to hide my cash. I\’m tired of living poor but not too poor, living well but not too well. I\’m sick of being under their microscope. And do I need to be? No! I have decided I do not. Fuck the lot of them, I\’m canceling all my benefits! Okay, within reason — I\’ll keep the Medicaid, cos shitty health insurance that covers almost all prescriptions with only $3 co-pays is still health insurance worth having. Hell, I bet I don\’t even qualify for gimp-income anymore; I bet I\’m making too much money on my own now to be eligible! Fuck yeah, at least in big daddy government\’s eyes, I am self-sufficient!
Except I\’m not. I want to be, wish I was, think I should be even when I don\’t feel like it\’s possible, but I\’m not.
Social Security\’s Substantial Gainful Activity amounts slot me in at needing to make $940 per month to make substantial earnings that are conducive to an acceptable quality of life (note: this is all defined by the opinions of the government). Working at the store and at the bar, on average per month I\’m coming in at $773.
Even in the government\’s eyes, I\’m $167 per month short of being self-sufficient. Seeing as that\’s the case, where do I start coming up with this other $167? Like, today? Because I\’d ideally like to cancel all my benefits before I get married so that I don\’t have to deal with the hassle of being seriously major inspected. I\’m doing my legal name change right now, which is a pain in the ass as-is. Changing my status to \”married\” and then having to tell everyone about hubby\’s income, filing a wrist-to-elbow stack of paperwork… no. I just don\’t want to.
I want to be free so that in six months, when my body is convulsing post-surgery, and I realize I\’m not going to be able to go back to work again any time soon, I\’ll have something to do with myself — sign up for all the benefits all over again. Just kidding, mostly.
Where do 26-year-olds with a GED and no college certification, no full-time job experience since the age of 17, no training or fully marketable skills (for instance, I know my way around Microsoft Office, kind of, but I\’m really only comfortable with Word), no references, and the need to carry a butt-cushion everywhere find work? Two places: sex-ploitation and probably another entrance retail position at Target or something like that (dish-washing, house-cleaning, and waiting tables are all too physical for my painful butt, and there are no factories or farms anywhere near here).
Good lord, no wonder all my work gets paid under the table: who in their right minds would want to own up to employing people like me? 😉 My employers would have to deal with filling out all those silly tax forms that say \”this person doesn\’t make enough so we won\’t be withholding taxes from their paychecks;\” accounting always LOVES those papers/people because the numbers crunch so differently.
Matt says I should just cut loose and go back to writing. Write a book about planning a wedding when you want to be a drag queen but your parents want a white church, oh, and did we mention lack of money and all the vendors laughing at us? Sounds like a mix of four books already on the market; weird weddings are the new chicklit.
What would make me happiest would be to get paid being a special-op gimp meter-maid type, where I would go around busting all the assholes parking illegally in handicapped-only spots. I would write them up massive tickets AND get their cars towed, which in Montgomery County is legal recourse but rarely taken. Oh, sweet gimp revenge, yes, that\’s all I want to do in life is make other people angry at me. \”What do you care, you\’re not handicapped?\” That\’s not the point, dipshit! Gaaaaaaaaaah.
(I still contend that I don\’t want to take my meds. When I meet with my psychiatrist in another week, there is going to be hell to pay. She trusted me enough to give me six weeks in between appointments. Usually it\’s four, but I\’d been stable for a long time. Had my head on straight. Then stopped taking my meds! Oops. Also, sex feels sooooo much better off the meds; I can actually ejaculate again, I\’m easily aroused, and I get rip-roaring once I get going. It hasn\’t been like that since, well, the last time I was off meds! Blast.)
