hummingwolf (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hummingwolf) wrote2005-03-22 07:03 pm
hummingwolf) wrote2005-03-22 07:03 pm
Well, that was an hour of my life.
Ever have a day where all the important parts were compressed into a single hour and the other twenty-three barely registered? Yes, this has been one of those days. The hour was 10-11 a.m.
Ten this morning was the time scheduled for my hearing to appeal cancelation of medical benefits. I had talked on the phone with the woman involved in that process (I'm not sure exactly what her role is; all I recall is that she's the person I was supposed to call before the hearing, and so I called her). She and I agreed yesterday that it seemed like the best thing for me to do today would be to ask the judge for a postponement of the hearing while she and/or my lawyer tried to get some information from the Social Security Administration.
As it turned out, I never did see the judge. The woman met me, grinning, and told me that she'd gotten the call from the folks up in Baltimore and I would be able to get my Medicaid back, retroactive to the first of the month. Woohoo! Okay, those of you who remember all my dealings with social services in January may recall that I'd heard the same thing then. The difference this time is that now I have the promise in writing, though I still don't plan to make any doctor appointments till I get a nicely typed-up letter in my hot little hands, probably a few days from now. So my big hour of the day involved some very good news!
The next part of my story requires some background. Pretty deep background, actually, which will look remarkably like a tangent.
For some reason, people tend to forget that emotions are physical things. We're so sure that our feelings are wrapped up in the state of our souls that we ignore the reality that feelings are, well, feelings. Just as we feel the texture of velvet, dizziness, or the discomfort of a hot day with our amazing nervous systems, we feel anger, joy, and sadness the same way. And just as our bodies have reactions to those other sensations, emotions cause physical responses as well.
The powerful emotions cause powerful energy surges. We deal with those surges in different ways. Maybe your one big reaction is an increase in blood pressure, raising your risk of heart attack in well-publicized ways. More likely, you have a variety of ways of shedding that excess energy. Pacing, jogging, bike riding, tooth-grinding, nail-biting, masturbating, rocking, headbanging, arm-flapping, muscle twitching, screaming, swearing, punching, kicking--you've got something. Obviously, some things are more socially acceptable than others. Some of those behaviors scare parents of children who engage in them (though I ran across an article saying "Curiously, one large study of this habit in healthy children found head-bangers to be measurably advanced compared to their peers. If anything, then, head banging in healthy children can be a sign of increased intelligence"). Some behaviors are more healthful than others. But all of them can be used to do the same basic task of relieving the body of some emotional pressure.
So I had a thing too. I'm told it was something I did about as soon as I could sit up on my own. Though I never watched myself in a mirror, I expect you would describe it as a combination of arm-flapping, something to do with the legs, and sometimes headbanging (not banging my head on anything, but moving it back & forth). When I was old enough to talk, people would ask me what I was doing. I told them I was "thinking." Pretty much it was something I did when daydreaming, exploring some world in my mind which inspired an emotional reaction. As far as I can remember, nobody ever thought it was pathological. I was not mentally retarded, not autistic, not developmentally delayed. Though my behavior was a bit unusual, I don't remember being picked on because of it--kids made fun of me for crying, but not for "thinking." It was something I could avoid doing, so it didn't interfere with my life in any noticeable way.
Since I could avoid doing it, that's what I did after a certain age. At least, nobody saw me "thinking" after I was about eight years old. I learned to channel most of my energies into things like fast walking or jumping rope; and when the pressure would get too much, I could always go into my room and think on my own. It's not something I ever even thought to mention in my journal because it never had any effect on my life.
But I have mentioned a few times that when I can't walk for some reason and I'm cooped up for too long, I get cranky. Since the bronchitis hit me at the start of the year, I haven't been doing much of any kind of physical activity. At first, that was okay. The infection exhausted me and I needed the rest. Lately, though, I've found myself in the kitchen trying to decide what to eat for lunch and realizing that I was flapping my arms wildly until I was out of breath. Nobody's noticed this but me, as far as I know, but it's been bothering me that the combination of stress and lack of physical activity has me doing these unconscious stereotyped movements I thought I'd gotten control of more than two decades ago.
So that's the background. After getting the good news about my medical benefits, I spoke with the man I've been talking with regarding food stamps and cash assistance. He was telling me something about the hearing scheduled for ten o'clock tomorrow morning, and I was asking questions, trying to clarify things. I forget the last question I asked. I remember it seemed like a simple question, and I remember that he would not answer me. He kept going to other topics, and I asked the question again and again in different ways, growing more and more frustrated with him. And then, as you probably guessed by now, suddenly I was sitting there flapping my arms, banging against the desk. This time, it would not be fair to say I was "thinking." And it would be fair to describe his reaction as "somewhat alarmed," though the security guard didn't seem to consider me much of a threat.
So after the security guard made sure I got out of the office safely, I walked home shaking and scared and wondering what's going to happen tomorrow. I got home a little after eleven in the morning. Even though I took a nice, long (painfully slow) walk in the spring sunshine, the rest of the day has mostly been a blur.
Ten this morning was the time scheduled for my hearing to appeal cancelation of medical benefits. I had talked on the phone with the woman involved in that process (I'm not sure exactly what her role is; all I recall is that she's the person I was supposed to call before the hearing, and so I called her). She and I agreed yesterday that it seemed like the best thing for me to do today would be to ask the judge for a postponement of the hearing while she and/or my lawyer tried to get some information from the Social Security Administration.
As it turned out, I never did see the judge. The woman met me, grinning, and told me that she'd gotten the call from the folks up in Baltimore and I would be able to get my Medicaid back, retroactive to the first of the month. Woohoo! Okay, those of you who remember all my dealings with social services in January may recall that I'd heard the same thing then. The difference this time is that now I have the promise in writing, though I still don't plan to make any doctor appointments till I get a nicely typed-up letter in my hot little hands, probably a few days from now. So my big hour of the day involved some very good news!
The next part of my story requires some background. Pretty deep background, actually, which will look remarkably like a tangent.
For some reason, people tend to forget that emotions are physical things. We're so sure that our feelings are wrapped up in the state of our souls that we ignore the reality that feelings are, well, feelings. Just as we feel the texture of velvet, dizziness, or the discomfort of a hot day with our amazing nervous systems, we feel anger, joy, and sadness the same way. And just as our bodies have reactions to those other sensations, emotions cause physical responses as well.
The powerful emotions cause powerful energy surges. We deal with those surges in different ways. Maybe your one big reaction is an increase in blood pressure, raising your risk of heart attack in well-publicized ways. More likely, you have a variety of ways of shedding that excess energy. Pacing, jogging, bike riding, tooth-grinding, nail-biting, masturbating, rocking, headbanging, arm-flapping, muscle twitching, screaming, swearing, punching, kicking--you've got something. Obviously, some things are more socially acceptable than others. Some of those behaviors scare parents of children who engage in them (though I ran across an article saying "Curiously, one large study of this habit in healthy children found head-bangers to be measurably advanced compared to their peers. If anything, then, head banging in healthy children can be a sign of increased intelligence"). Some behaviors are more healthful than others. But all of them can be used to do the same basic task of relieving the body of some emotional pressure.
So I had a thing too. I'm told it was something I did about as soon as I could sit up on my own. Though I never watched myself in a mirror, I expect you would describe it as a combination of arm-flapping, something to do with the legs, and sometimes headbanging (not banging my head on anything, but moving it back & forth). When I was old enough to talk, people would ask me what I was doing. I told them I was "thinking." Pretty much it was something I did when daydreaming, exploring some world in my mind which inspired an emotional reaction. As far as I can remember, nobody ever thought it was pathological. I was not mentally retarded, not autistic, not developmentally delayed. Though my behavior was a bit unusual, I don't remember being picked on because of it--kids made fun of me for crying, but not for "thinking." It was something I could avoid doing, so it didn't interfere with my life in any noticeable way.
Since I could avoid doing it, that's what I did after a certain age. At least, nobody saw me "thinking" after I was about eight years old. I learned to channel most of my energies into things like fast walking or jumping rope; and when the pressure would get too much, I could always go into my room and think on my own. It's not something I ever even thought to mention in my journal because it never had any effect on my life.
But I have mentioned a few times that when I can't walk for some reason and I'm cooped up for too long, I get cranky. Since the bronchitis hit me at the start of the year, I haven't been doing much of any kind of physical activity. At first, that was okay. The infection exhausted me and I needed the rest. Lately, though, I've found myself in the kitchen trying to decide what to eat for lunch and realizing that I was flapping my arms wildly until I was out of breath. Nobody's noticed this but me, as far as I know, but it's been bothering me that the combination of stress and lack of physical activity has me doing these unconscious stereotyped movements I thought I'd gotten control of more than two decades ago.
So that's the background. After getting the good news about my medical benefits, I spoke with the man I've been talking with regarding food stamps and cash assistance. He was telling me something about the hearing scheduled for ten o'clock tomorrow morning, and I was asking questions, trying to clarify things. I forget the last question I asked. I remember it seemed like a simple question, and I remember that he would not answer me. He kept going to other topics, and I asked the question again and again in different ways, growing more and more frustrated with him. And then, as you probably guessed by now, suddenly I was sitting there flapping my arms, banging against the desk. This time, it would not be fair to say I was "thinking." And it would be fair to describe his reaction as "somewhat alarmed," though the security guard didn't seem to consider me much of a threat.
So after the security guard made sure I got out of the office safely, I walked home shaking and scared and wondering what's going to happen tomorrow. I got home a little after eleven in the morning. Even though I took a nice, long (painfully slow) walk in the spring sunshine, the rest of the day has mostly been a blur.
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oh, that IS good news!!! congrats! :D
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===In regards to the less fun bit...I am not certain that is an unreasonable reaction to having to deal with some folks in the land of food stamps and cash assistance. Some might say that is WHY they need security there. (chuckles)
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Gah. I'd like to skip tomorrow morning, but I won't.
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I find that quote amusing. :-)
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Be gentle with that head now, will ya?
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Oh, I love the Bambi icon!
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Thanks, Dan!
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Not so wonderful about the other. It really sucks that he made you get to the point where you did that without realising in front of someone, sweetie. I hope it might actually make him realise just how fucking frustrating it is when you ask a question and get the runaround.
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