Case Manager has me going in several directions at once. My open disability claim sat in her office for two weeks, so I had to go talk to the county veterans service officer on my own.
Rent has continued to be an issue. CM demanded that I take $500 there at once two weeks ago. I didn't- which is a good thing, because Porchlight withdrew almost $500 from my account the following Monday. That overdrew my account. Turns out they'd pulled the wrong amount. Imagine that. Automatic withdrawal for rent is now mandatory, so it appears I'm stuck with it.
I did have a meeting with the housing director- she was 30 minutes late for our appointment (lunch was more important than me, it seems). She'd have blown me off completely if I hadn't used command voice to say "I was your 1:00 appointment!" We've got another meeting scheduled this week, which I'm not looking forward to. Hopefully I'll have a rent plan in place after that meeting.
I've missed a couple of cognitive therapy therapy appointments at the VA hospital. First one I missed I overslept, because I'd been up all night the night before cleaning my room in advance of an inspection that (apparently) never happened. Then I wasn't scheduled for any appointments in October. I'd met the guy from the county veterans service office at the VA hospital last week, so I stopped at mental health to set an appointment up for this week.
CM also has me applying for Social Security. It's part of the transitional housing program that I have to apply for benefits I may be entitled to, but I don't have to like it. I have an in person application meeting coming up for that. CM used the words "sorry sack of shit" to describe how SSA needs to see me so I get benefits.
The social security thing really bothers me. It's a matter of pride. I don't want the government to support me. I don't want handouts. I don't want the stigma that's attached- how many times do you hear "social security" in the same sentence as "lazy people milking the system"?
There are guys in vets house like that- nice big screen tv, new computer, cable tv, new cellphone. Not looking for a job, not going to school, not even thinking about doing either. Three meals a day plus food stamps, social security, and VA disability.
My Dad was a steelworker who worked overtime whenever possible, and worked at a grocery store bagging groceries at night when I was a kid. I've worked 60 hour weeks myself, years at a time. I don't like the idea of milking the system for all it's worth.
There was an investment company slogan a few years ago: "We make money the old fashioned way, we earn it."
Also last week I had to go to the biweekly house meeting. whose purpose seems to be reminding us that we live in a homeless shelter and that we're in a recovery program. The meetings make me imagine what being force committed to a rehab facility must feel like. There are always reminders of the rules, plus what seems like a new rule going into affect every week. The newest is that visitors have to sign in and out.
Important note: the front door to the building hasn't locked properly in three weeks- but we need to have visitors sign in and out so the house is "more secure". There's a work order in about the door. Around here, saying there's a work order in is the same as saying "fuck you, it's not my problem."
It was also mentioned that the washers and dryers don't work (again), and there's a work order in on that. Another fuck you not my problem.
None of this has anything to do with college. As far as PTSD, all of this contributes to my overall anxiety level, which means triggers are more likely to affect me.
I am feeling better lately, at least sometimes. Dealing with all of this shit is a drain on my battery. It uses up energy that could be better employed elsewhere.
I've been thinking lately that next fall isn't so far away. I'll need a new place to live. Leases around here run August to August, so that puts a move out date for me about eight months from now. So much needs to happen between now and then, yet it can't come soon enough.
Light at the end of the tunnel, if only a glimmer.