I’ve been struggling with sleep, like I am right now. Too many thoughts, and the screens… oh man, the screens. I thought I’d listen to Radiohead and type myself tired. Tomorrow, I have to wake up early to go to Metropolitan Hospital on 96th Street.
I need to undergo a psychosocial evaluation to qualify for supportive housing in New York. The doctor here at this program I’ve been in left off my history of severe mental illness, thus limiting my chances of getting a place to live again. I need an independent source. It’s been an 8-month process trying to get this right due to the doctor’s failure, which dates back to January. He never asked me any questions; he just lazily checked the boxes. It’s stressing me out.
Also, I quit my job.
On Friday, I was feeling anxious on my way to work, but I figured it would pass. I was wrong. I got there, and there were no Target employees to do their part, and customers were all over the place. I also had to join a conference call for AT&T on my cell phone. Anxiety + sensory overload.
I had a severe anxiety attack; it reminded me of the one I had at ShopRite at the beginning of the pandemic that sent me spiraling into drug use and street life. I got out of there as fast as I could. I thought about going to the emergency room, but then I remembered how little that would accomplish, so I came home. I woke up and took the hour-long subway ride to Flatbush. When I got there, I realized that I didn’t feel any better, so I called my favorite vocational counselor, Gamze, and asked her what to do. She said I should talk to my boss, so I called him. I told him that I felt like my mental health prevented me from working, and he asked me to consider whether I should resign. I slept on it, talked to my mother, and further to Gamze. Then I woke up and resigned.
I have a lot going on mentally, and I’m worrying about where I’m going to end up when my time here at this program I’ve been in for nearly a year ends. I’ve been changing medications and generally feeling out of it for at least the past week. I was never sure if I was going to be able to work, and even less sure when I started seeing how understaffed and far away the stores were. I tried to quit a few weeks ago and ended up at a different store, but it was still over an hour away.
I tried, I tried to do it and I couldn’t. It was too much for me. I tried.
I have a little money saved, and I’m going to hire a lawyer to assist me in getting disability. I don’t think it’s a stretch that I am disabled by my mind. After all, I truly tried to work, and look what happened, more than once.
I don’t care what anyone says about it. They probably won’t be happy that I’m unemployed again, like “Hey kid, just do it, we all work.” I get it, everybody works. I just don’t know how you live a normal life like a normal person. I seriously watch people exist in society with amazement. I can’t wrap my head around how they do it.
I tried, I tried to do it, and I couldn’t. It was too much for me. I tried.
hey now, i wouldn’t refuse a coffee at this point, thank you
