|megpie71 (megpie71) wrote,|
@ 2009-02-25 15:52:00
I aten't dead
Although at the moment, it would be a slightly more pain-free alternative, I'm sure.
I've signed on for Newstart, and my first fortnightly form is due tomorow. I've already received the form and filled it in, all that remains is to turn up on the correct day, stand in the correct queue, and speak to the correct people, and my bank account should receive its first external deposit since late October. Yay.
However, as a result of the stress of trying to get the claim processed, and the back and forth which resulted, I've had a flareup of a temporo-mandibular joint inflammation. Effectively, it's a physiological reaction to my usual psychological reaction to stress, which is to shut up and be polite, no matter how much I want to bitch. After a while, my jaw becomes sore, and the joint inflames - and all of a sudden, I can't move my jaw out of a rest position (either to open it or close firmer) because it hurts like blazes. This continues for any number of days, until I get the resultant stress out of my system, at which point the inflammation subsides and I get to eat, drink and breathe without pain again. In the meantime, I tend to swallow nurofed to deal with the ow, and pray that the whole thing will be over and done sooner rather than later.
Since it's all kicked off by a psychological thing, I'm pretty sure the main trigger to recovery is going to be ranting about most of the things I've been keeping to myself for the last few weeks. So, here's the list of them.
* The most recent one is that Himself is treating me as though I'm made of glass because I'm in pain. This irritates me, because I'm only hurting in one spot (my jaw) and while it's uncomfortable, it isn't debilitating. I can still talk, I can still interact, and I can still eat. I'm not dead, I'm not dying, and I'm not going to break as a result of one problem. I tell him this. But he still tiptoes around me, treats me as though I'm going to shatter if he gives me a decent strength hug, and is vewy vewy quiet, just in case the noise breaks me too.
* I don't like being on the dole. I really don't. It feels like giving up, even though in this case it's just giving in to the reality of my financial and economic circumstances. I don't like having to justify my existence on a regular basis (which is what the fortnightly forms *feel* like, even if I know intellectually they're just interested in making certain I'm continuing to look for work), and I really don't like feeling like I have to apologise constantly for being female, thirty-seven (nearly thirty-eight), intelligent and fat in a declining economy. Yes, I'm all of those things. I'm also a good worker, a dedicated worker, someone who will turn up for work on time (if not early) and put in a full day's work, and try very hard to ensure I *earn* the money they pay me. I don't even make phone calls on company time - I'll wait until my lunch break or tea break, and use my mobile phone to make the call (these days - before I owned a mobile, I'd go out and find a public phone). Yes, I ask for a higher wage than a lot of younger folks - but I justify that by having the experience, and the commitment.
* I really don't like being unable to find work. It annoys me, because I know I'm good enough, but the employers don't seem to want to listen.
* I'm not fond of my dreams at present. I really didn't like the one I had last night which had me being played by a large bearded bloke in someone's comedy skit (although to do my subconscious justice, the me in the dream world was threatening to sue the players up hill and down dale for libel, slander and anything else I could make stick) effectively portraying me as being ugly, stupid, fat, horrible, and useless. My subconscious deserves a kicking.
* I don't like the thought that I'll probably have to start looking at retail, clerical and sales work in order to retain benefits. I've done both retail and clerical work, and I know I'm overqualified for both of them. Of the two I prefer retail, because at least that offers me the chance of interacting with people on a regular basis, which is something which keeps the ol' brain moving. Clerical work is boring, uninspiring, and literally maddening for me, because I'm required to put my brain into neutral and leave it there.
* Centrelink offices, as I've mentioned previously, are depressing places to be, whether by accident or design. I don't need another trigger for the depression. Really I don't.
Ah well, that's that lot off my chest. I'll probably be ranting a lot over the next few days, just to try and clear out the mental detritus and clear a bit of space. Nobody has to read 'em.