It's been really challenging and confusing dealing with healthcare lately.
I recall one instance as a child where I had an ear infection. Neglectful parental unit did not take me to the doctor despite my complaints, my cries, her occupation as nurse, our great health coverage. I recall being dressed down due to the inconvenience weeks later of having to be driven to the doctor and the copay cost. It was somehow my fault that I had gotten an ear infection and let it nearly take my sense of hearing. I was ashamed. Just one of many moments that taught me what I do and don't deserve and that money is worth more than love and life.
Not having an obvious physical illness, believing that a lot of it is my fault, that people won't understand or they will think I'm exaggerating, and facing so many roadblocks while just trying to get help, something I feel like is so simple, leads me to conclude that I am completely unworthy of assistance.
There's an underlying terror there - that through the feelings of defeat, discouragement, and hopelessness, I will give up on trying to get the help I need. No longer wishing to contemplate whether I'm worth the struggle I'm sure it takes to know me, I will adopt the rubbish mantra of "things will get better," the bullshit chants of "we'll figure it out" and "don't worry," while settling in to a counterfeit character that fools people into thinking she's sane.
Fighting with this through another decade of life seems impossible though. Curious how much help becomes available once it's too late, don't you think?
I recall one instance as a child where I had an ear infection. Neglectful parental unit did not take me to the doctor despite my complaints, my cries, her occupation as nurse, our great health coverage. I recall being dressed down due to the inconvenience weeks later of having to be driven to the doctor and the copay cost. It was somehow my fault that I had gotten an ear infection and let it nearly take my sense of hearing. I was ashamed. Just one of many moments that taught me what I do and don't deserve and that money is worth more than love and life.
Not having an obvious physical illness, believing that a lot of it is my fault, that people won't understand or they will think I'm exaggerating, and facing so many roadblocks while just trying to get help, something I feel like is so simple, leads me to conclude that I am completely unworthy of assistance.
There's an underlying terror there - that through the feelings of defeat, discouragement, and hopelessness, I will give up on trying to get the help I need. No longer wishing to contemplate whether I'm worth the struggle I'm sure it takes to know me, I will adopt the rubbish mantra of "things will get better," the bullshit chants of "we'll figure it out" and "don't worry," while settling in to a counterfeit character that fools people into thinking she's sane.
Fighting with this through another decade of life seems impossible though. Curious how much help becomes available once it's too late, don't you think?
