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----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This sucks Went to the orientation for Job Corps on Monday. I organized all my paperwork neatly in a folder divided by sections, laid out my interview outfit the night before, then did my hair and makeup to the best of my ability in the morning. I was feeling pretty good as I hiked up my argyle stockings (which would've been thigh-highs if I wasn't so adamant on the argyle pattern), and headed out the door for the hour-long car ride through morning traffic. I saw a man in a suit when we arrived in the parking lot and smiled to myself...but it quickly faded once I entered the building and the first thing I took notice of was that I was the only one wearing formal clothes. I mentally slapped myself in the forehead for a moment, but my embarrassment quickly settled. At least I looked good and would no doubt make an impression. We were filed into a small room, given paperwork to fill out and viewed a slide show on the program. I sat next to the first person I laid eyes on and clung to her for the rest of the day (I often do that to ease my anxiety). I think her name was Ginia or Gina, something like that. We spoke a little about tattoos and she lent me her over shirt when I was cold. I remember it smelled lightly of cigarettes, a smell I usually detest, but there was something almost soothing about this. She wasn't bad looking- the type I like, besides her long hair and thin body. Just the type of person who turns my brain to mush so that I start rambling on about this and that. Yeah. I'm a hopeless fucking romantic and a flirt. So afterward, we were taken one by one to a mini-interview, which was just the admissions counselor asking questions based on what you wrote down in the survey portion of the paperwork. Things went okay until she mentioned my depression. Yes, I was diagnosed five years ago. No, I'm not taking medication. Yes, I think I am okay now. But of course, my word isn't good enough. Now I need a therapist to conclude that I'm mentally stable enough to be in the program, or risk being a "liability." She didn't outright tell me that, but I heard the word come up a few times in the slide show and knew that's what she meant. So on Wednesday, me and dad visited my old therapist's office to see if she would fill out the needed paperwork. The secretary wouldn't let us past the front window and informed me that I'd need to make an appointment. Of course I expected this and opened my mouth to reply when dad interjects "you mean she can't move on with her life?" I wished I had just told him to shut up. In reality, that statement sounds really terrible considering I've had five, four counting the year I took off, years to "move on with my life" and it pissed me off he'd go off in front of the other people there like that. I wish he'd realize that I'm an adult, I can make decisions on my own without daddy there to help all the time. Mom was also taken back to the hospital on Monday, came back Friday. She's been off her medication for a while- her therapist refused to write up any more prescriptions because she screwed up and made him think he was on drugs when that actually happened years ago- I'm talking before I was even born. She was suppose to undergo some detox program, a few AA meetings (which I think she actually needs), but you know, nothing ever came of that other than some whining. So in order to get the meds back, she needed to start completely over again. So just when it seems we have things back under control, another bombshell comes to plague us- Abilify is 300-something for a months worth, and guess who can't afford to buy it? I don't actually think our insurance covers something that expensive either. 1:08 am - October 25th, 2009 |
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