Tonight I want to talk about the government stuff. I have been avoiding it for, well, mostly because I am scared that if I say the wrong thing, I will be turned down. The right-wing cry that people (they are referring to people like me) are cheating the system and we need to be more stringent is by far one of the most harming things for me to hear. I try not to let it land on my heart. Most days I do alright. Today, I put together my meds for the next week. (there is a post a while back with a picture, double the amount of pills) I spent some time with necessary errands and lunch with family.
When my roommate came home with the mail there were to absolutely devastating letters. The first was from Medicaid. I am not going to go into details because it is still and open case, but I want you all to understand the non-medical stresses here. This letter stated that I had not brought in the appropriate paperwork and then listed said paperwork. ALL of which I turned in LAST Friday. Maybe it is a simple office error, but still terrifying for me.
The next one said that I didn't report my income (of which I have none) correctly and will have to appeal to keep food stamps. And once again, I don't know where my next meal will come from.
I collapsed on the floor in a terrified wail. I reported exactly what the case manager told me. Obviously, I cannot feed myself if I cant pay for meds or housing. I am beyond upset. I feel like they want us to fail. Like they get some gold star when they deny someone. And to imagine that one might want to go through this process to get free money is... insane. Truly. By the time I have made sure that my papers for the state are in line and where the need to be on time, I am so stressed that my stomach is worse. And if you follow this blog at all, you know that keeping each meal down and pills down is a full time job. So here is my plea to you: I don't care which side of the aisle you find yourself, but for every person cheating the system, there are countless literally, factually trying with the last ounce of whatever they have left to survive. Isn't my life worth enough to you to stop complaining and make my suffering a tiny bit less. Over and over I have pleaded out into the darkness to make the fighting only be for my life and not for the system to deem my life worth their dollar.
I feel like I will die, before someone at a desk, whom I've never met, will decide that I am worthy of help.