DLA Tribunal

I had my Tribunal yesterday, for Disability Living Allowance.

The brief back story is that following November 2008, my Connexions PA said we should definitely put in an application for DLA. We got the forms, and began the process of filling them out in late February 2009, once I was well enough to complete them. They were sent in early March 2009.

I was declined for both Care and Mobility in May. My Psychiatrist's junior doctor had filled in form, which I felt was contradictory. It stated that I had no history of self-harm or self-neglect. Connexions PA and myself sent a letter contending this, I appealed, and it was looked at and declined again.

Tribunal was originally booked for November 2009 (I think). I wasn't too well, but made the effort to go. We were just leaving when they phoned and informed us that my GP's notes had failed to arrive, so it was postponed.

My GP notes were re-requested. I ended up collecting them myself on Tuesday, and Connexions PA faxed them to the Tribunal service, as they kept forgetting to do them.

So, the Tribunal finally went ahead, and it was horrible.
I had the three people who form the panel. There was another lady who I think was something to do with the decision making service (I was so nervous, I can't remember).

We were in there for over an hour. I'm pretty sure that isn't normal practice. I feel like they enjoyed grilling me. I hate talking about my low periods, when the depression really takes over. I hate admitting that I became paranoid, and had delusions. I hate reading how close I was to being prescribed anti-psychotics or even being hospitalised. I hate realising how unwell I was, describing some of the humiliating things I did. Not bathing for weeks or going out in my pajamas with a coat over the top, because dressing was too much effort.

Afterwards they said they would write to me. They said everyone was getting their decisions in the post that day, because of this lady coming to oversee things. However, whilst I was waiting for my expenses for the train ticket, a woman went in and came out less than five minutes later with her decision.

I knew I wasn't getting anything, and the letter this morning confirmed it. I was only hoping for Lower Rate Care. I feel like a fraud.

Tribunals, and a return to writing.

I'm writing in here again because right now I need it. I don't need anyone to read it or to say anything, but I need to take control again and this is one of a combination of things which helped pull me through when things got bad again.
No promises that I'll be a consistent blogger, or a good blogger, or an interesting blogger.
I feel better just for getting this out.
I've been on my work placement, in an adolescent inpatient unit, and I love it. I love my work anyway, but this is even better. Despite struggling to fit in initially, and having no clue what to write my essay on, I am really enjoying it and really learning from it.
However, I'm slipping quite badly.
It started initially with being nervous, and having no appetite. Then, I didn't really want to eat in front of people, and I'm still quite constricted in certain areas with what I eat. Eating a meal every day which has been prepared by someone else and which I have limited control of is actually very hard.
I've lost 3 pounds in the past 3 and a half weeks, and I feel good, happier about my body, my smaller stomach.
This is me slipping into a danger zone, and I'm aware of that.
I've also been skipping meals, not taking anything except maybe a piece of fruit to eat during a shift, and weighing myself.

My mood has dipped, and I'm having migraines. I've had two pretty bad ones, and so I've missed two days of work, which I'll have to make up over the next few weeks. My self care and the housework have both slipped, and I'm neglecting to spend time with the guinea pigs and with my friends.

I'm constantly exhausted, and unfortunately still bleeding. I've had about 4 or 5 days this month when I havn't been bleeding. The medical verdict is to change my contraception, but I'm getting no guidance about what to change it too, or what may help. It's pretty much try it and see.

I'm managing, and I know that once I am qualified I am only going to work 3 or 4 days per week. 5 days is too much for me, and I can easily manage on part-time wages. However in the mean time, I need to make my 37.5 hours a week. I'm really struggling to do this, let alone manage university work on top.

I've also got my tribunal date for DLA coming up, on November 25th. I've written to them requesting them to get a supporting letter from my consultant, and a copy of my medical records. I tried to do this myself, but my consultant wants them to write to him, and the surgery want £18.30 for photocopying and administration fees. I'm so tired.

I have no idea what I'm going to say at the tribunal, I mainly want to contend the letter from my previous consultant that says I have no history or risk of self harm or self neglect. I also want to point out that I do require ongoing support with bills and correspondence from my Connexions work, and with ongoing low self esteem and the paranoia it cause from my Counsellor. If I got the lower rate of care then I could afford to go swimming regularly, which I have used in the past to improve my mood. It would also help with travel expenses to see my Connexions worker and Counsellor, and with the increased phone bill as I often need additional support from them, or my mum and boyfriend. When I'm travelling alone, such as to or from work, it helps if I can call someone for support as I often feel very unsafe.

I don't see myself as severely ill, but I do think I have a long term problem which means I require a little more support from those around me than most people. I still work, although it can be a struggle, and I'm planning carefully to ensure that I can continue to work in the future. I'm proud of being independent, but sometimes I need to ask for a little bit of help so that I don't become unwell, and therefore become dependant on others for everything from finances to getting dressed.

A Master of Avoidance

I have successfully managed to avoid studying. I decided to print out all the missing lecture notes for Psychology & Sociology, but when it came down to actually reading them I didn't do so well. You see, I don't actually know how to study. My brain used to work like a sponge, absorbing information, and then I used to just "mentally vomit" onto the exam paper, and somewhere out of that I'd get an A. I tried to study, but it usually consisted of reorganising my notes, or reading up on some morbid off-topic subject which had caught my interest. It used to work, but now my brain takes a hell of a lot of abuse before it accepts information. That's in all areas of life, not just studying.
GG, for fuck's sake EAT SOMETHING. Um, no. I don't need food. It's a government conspiracy to make us all fat, haven't you all worked that out yet? The re-education of my mind is proving rather hard.
I tried reading some psychology stuff, things which usually would have caught my interest, but none of the important information is sticking. Maybe if I ingest some Pritt-Stik?
I think I should just give up and get some speed. Me and my friend Ladders used to talk all the time about getting some speed and spring-cleaning the house. Maybe that would work with studying? However, the horrific comedown would not help with the examination itself.
I'm wondering how I'm going to be awake enough for a 9.30am test anyway, considering that I haven't managed to surface since I started the Venlafaxine. No doubt, my mood has definitely improved, and the late afternoon-early evening has proved relatively productive, as far as bathing and washing bedsheets goes. I even treated myself to a bit of Russell Brand last night. I just need to get through the exam without falling asleep, or being in a general zombie-like state.
On a lighter note, my guinea pigs have been in the garden since 11am, I just put them back in the hutch and Paddy was very displeased. She was squealing at me in her pissed-off tone, like she does if Guinness steals her food. I've got an appointment with the counsellor soon, and I was going to leave them out until I leave at 4pm, but next-door's cat is taking a keen interest in them, and I don't trust it. It sits on the fence pretending to ignore them, then when it thinks I'm not looking it stares intently at them, licking it's lips. I can imagine it prowling around their run, singing "I'm gonna eat ya little guineas, I'm gonna eat ya little pigs...". Think "The Cat" from Red Dwarf with the robotic goldfish.
I try to make myself relatively presentable when I leave the house, and this also applies to going to see the counsellor. I'm not to bothered when I go to Dr Oddie's, as it's a 10 minute walk, but the counsellor is in town, right by the pub, and to be honest a bra, deodorant and brushed hair are kind of required if I'm going somewhere where I'm quite likely to see friends, and to avoid abuse on the bus.
I have a Shrink appointment next week, Connexions PA is attending to make sure that we actually discuss certain issues and to see if she can help with anything. I think I'm being referred to my new area, but I'm not sure. This is a bit of a conundrum, because Connexions PA usually sees me when I'm not-overly-repulsive, and I made an effort the last time I saw Shrink. This approach has got me nowhere, so I'm considering welcoming them to my world, eg. the one where I don't spend the whole day pulling myself together to get ready for the appointment, and just show up in whatever was lying on my bedroom floor. Maybe I should take my duvet?

Homemade vs. Tinned

My Connexions PA is lovely, she helped me sort out some debt issues* today, but she doesn't seem to understand that cooking is a huge effort. I mean, come on, I tried to go to uni in my pajamas today [I had my jeans on over them, but still...]. She suggested making homemade soup, but here's the other big problem - calorie counting.
I have enough trouble trying to ignore working out how much my vegetarian chili contains, let alone adding another mystery-calorie food to my diet.
Obviously, there is no logic to eating disorders. One minute I'm crying over the increase in calories of my usual soup, the next I could be binging on whatever unsafe foods I can get my hands on.
Currently, I only eat 3 different meals. Low fat yogurt and muesli for breakfast, although I've resisted weighing the muesli so far, I do use individual 100-cal yogurt pots so I know how much I'm eating.
Depending on how I am, I may have lunch. That's where the soup comes in, with one or two slices of wholemeal super-seedy bread. Nasty fact, but this is to avoid constipation, which is a bitch. No laxatives allowed in the house, I am not going down that road again.
Dinner is the veggie chili, onion, pepper and mushrooms with a variety of beans, pulses, lentils and tinned tomatoes. The beans and lentils contain Tryptophan, which is used to make Serotonin, and then I chuck in lots of chili powder, because apparently spicy food ups your metabolism?
I haven't got a clue how many calories are in a portion of that. Honest. Ok. I lie. I refuse to work it out properly, but probably around 250?
If I'm feeling extra good [or extra faint!] I chuck in some mozzarella cheese. Once it's melted, it's hard to pick back out, see?
Throw in the occasional binge, and the mandatory "see, I eat normally" meals at my Mum's or Boyfriend's house, and you have it.

I originally dropped 20 pounds by just, well, not eating. Now I'm on this, not purging [much], and not using laxatives and diuretics, I feel a lot better.
I gained back 6 pounds in the first week [ouch!] but I've lost 4 of them. I think I was just on starvation mode, plus water weight...

So. I'm now a size 6.
Hmmm.
I was fine with being an 8. I don't like double figures, but an 8 was nice and comfy. Now I'm a 6, all I can think about is dropping to a 4.
That little voice, pointing out the size 4 little black dress in Adsa, "Look GG, you could be in that by Christmas. Make sure you've got a bit of room though, you don't want to look like you've squeezed into it. Fat bitch."

GG

*When they stuck me on Prozac and everything got a bit sparkly, not only did I start my nursing course, I also got some books out of the library. I don't remember this, but I received a £200 fine last week, and found the offending literature under my bed. I think I still have to pay £75, but we'll see if they take pity on the mentally f*cked. What interests me is how I packed and unpacked them whilst moving house, and still didn't realise?

That Brick Wall.

I feel like I've run head first into a solid wall. Like I've pushed and pushed and then BAM!

This is going to be poorly written, but I'm not very "with it" right now.
I went to work yesterday, first time I've gone since Tuesday. And today? I'm back in bed.

I haven't bathed, washed my hair or cooked in over a week.
My laundry bin is overflowing, my guinea pigs are quite frankly being neglected, and I'm living off the occasional forced down bowl of cereal.

Welcome to my world, eh?
So, next time my Connexions PA asks me, how does my illness affect my everyday life, well, I think I'll direct her straight to this post.

I have a splitting headache, I'm dehydrated but that means I have to get out of bed less to use the toilet, so I don't care, and I'm repulsive.

I want to die quietly and apologetically, because this existence isn't helping anyone.