Had my appointment with Citizens Advice today to help fill in my DLA form. Started badly when I attempted to leave the house in slippers before realising that no matter how warm and fluffy they are, they don’t give much protection against a downpour. So, slippers replaced with walking boots, bike wrestled from bike shed amidst copious swearing as it attempted to mate with both the recycling bin and another bike simultaneously, I did eventually make it on time.
The advisor lady was incredible. Really patient and understanding. She’d kept her whole afternoon free so that we could do as much or as little of the form as I wanted in my own time. We didn’t bother too much about keeping the information in the right boxes, I just talked and she’s going to go through, reword and reorganise it in my absence so I can just check it next week and we can get it submitted.
Without the support, there’s no way I could have got anywhere near completing it beyond the personal details page. There’s no way a piece of paper should be able to generate such feelings of self-hatred within me. Alone it would probably just have ended up with “I’M FINE” scrawled in big letters over every box, the margin, anywhere I could fit it. That’s what I’d like, I want to say I’m fine. Everything’s ok or at the very most that ‘it’s been worse so why worry?’. But none of that’s true.
With a few pointed questions and my own overabundence of insight into why I’m not normal, we soon had more than enough material to fill most of the boxes many times over. I hate my own intelligence and the insight it gives me. I can analyse where my behaviour is wrong, where my thoughts bear no relation to reality, identify the advice I’d give others but I can’t do it for me. And I don’t know why the fuck not. How can I sit there for hours with a list of easy things to do and just not move? I know how to move, I know how to complete the tasks, hell some of them are things I’d like to do and yet nothing ever happens. How can I fail to achieve even the most basic functions of existence when physically there’s nothing stopping me?
Sorry, got distracted, where was I? Ah yes, the form. The good news is I should very definitely be entitled to some form of DLA. With a decent Dr’s letter behind me, I shouldn’t even need to fight. Not that I’m deleriously happy to be nuts enough to be disabled but the money would be a real help. The advisor made me laugh when we were talking about self harm. I’d confessed that I was self harming pretty much daily right now and she turned round and said that was a good thing. And then backtracked rather quickly in an explanation that it was one of the easy triggers to get them to pay out rather than the self harm itself being a wondrous achievement. Sorry, sometimes poor taste, black humour is all I have.
Going back in a weeks time to check the form over. In the mean time I have paperwork for my GP and psych to complete to submit alongside it. Now I just need to rediscover some of the emptiness because it’s better than this acute awareness of everything that’s wrong with me and let’s face it, it seems to be a lot. Oh, and I cycled into a wall on the way home, straight on into it. I just genuinely didn’t see it. How can you be so out of it you miss a 6ft tall brick built structure that’s been there every other time you’ve used that path?