Why I hate the unexpected.

Today I went to the local DSS building to get this paperwork my therapist told me to get and she would help me with. Sounds so easy.

The Other Half and I ventured out when I was ready. We got there. Through the metal detector. Almost done. Wait for the receptionist. Seems like forever. Finally I’m at the window. I explain I’m there for paperwork to get temporary assistance due to mental illness. I’m then told to fill out a piece of paper and I’d have to meet with someone.

Wait. What?!

Breath.

Ok. I can do this.

Working on filling out the paper the room fills up. Next thing I know someone is on the phone attached to the wall near me. Standing. Talking loudly. Right in my space. I move over. This is apparently invitation to move MORE into my space.

I’m crowded in now. The room is full. I can’t concentrate. Breath. I need to breath. I want to cry. Run away back to the car. Go home. I get very fidgety, shaking my foot. This is not good.

But I wait.

My name is finally called. I meet with a very bored DSS worker. She tells me a lot of info about the paperwork and assistance I can qualify for. It’s hard to concentrate. My anxiety is through the roof. I just want to go home.

I’m finally given my paperwork. I can fill it out there or take it home. But I have to turn it in within 24 hours or I have to go through this all over.

Great…

I choose to take it home and leave.

Home brings relief but also an overflow of emotions. It takes about 15 minuets to really calm down.

Relax.

Breath.

I felt betrayed. Like I was set up. If I’d known I had to do so much there I would have prepared more. Gone earlier when it would be less busy.

But. The ball is rolling now. Tomorrow means I have to go back to drop off the paperwork. Little steps. I also meet with the therapist again tomorrow, then the nurse the day after. I hope that means I can get some relief for these symptoms.

Tonight I’m taking the last of my ambian to get some sleep tonight as I’ve had so many issues sleeping and staying asleep.

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