On Tuesday and Wednesday of this week, I had a fantastic experience. I was fortunate enough to sing as a part of the Tanglewood Festival Chorus at Carnegie Hall. We performed Beethoven's "Missa Solemnis" with the Boston Symphony Orchestra and four fabulous soloists. It was our very own JO's Carnegie conducting debut, and he was wonderful.
My sisters and some other friends were able to come out and spend some time in NYC with me. I drank FAR too many Long Island Iced Teas, and generally had a splendiferous time. Traveling with Ms. Adi was a real treat; it's not too often that you meet a true kindred spirit, and that said spirit loves Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home EXACTLY AS MUCH AS YOU DO. That is true gold, friends, and only one example of her fabulosity. But I digress.
I get in my front door and start opening mail. There's a letter from Social Security, and I have to call and speak to them to try to get some information straight. I have been on SSDI since 2005, getting some income and Medicare benefits on a monthly basis.
Then comes the blow: I am losing my disability benefits.
Now this is completely within the rules of the program. With the recent addition of a few more voice students, I officially make just over what is allowed while collecting benefits, and it's time for SSDI to help out some other folks who truly need the service.
Of course, that's not what my brain said when it happened. I started crying hysterically, and totally freaking out. "What will I do when I get sick again? My Medicare will be taken away; can Paulie add me to his plan? But it's the middle of the year! What will I have to stop doing? What bills can we eliminate? Do I have to start dropping TFC stuff if I can't afford to drive back and forth and park and AHHHHHH!!!! Blahblahblahblahblah******white noise********.........................". I basically thought in capital letters with no spaces for about an hour.
Then my wonderful logical husband came home, and I told him. His response? "Good! We knew that would happen sooner or later. That means you're getting better!"
Oh yeah. I'm getting better. I'm able to consistently make money. I'm not quitting jobs every 2 seconds because I need to go into the hospital again. I'm not wearing long-sleeved shirts in August because I cut the hell out of my arms the night before, and I don't want the public I'm working with to see them. I'm not running into the bathroom in the middle of the workday to "add on" to my handiwork. I'm not begging God to take me at 3am.
As of April 1st, I will have worked at my local library for 2 years, and I now have 12 voice students. There are even a few more getting ready to start. I sub for some friends at churches, and I've recently played some great theatrical roles.
When I finished calming down, I did the other thing that I do really well: I decided I must be "productive" and started planning my life away. Once again, my knight in shining pharmacy technician armor came to my rescue. He assured me that we would still be financially OK without my benefits, that I could take on a few more students if I liked, and that I should never give up TFC. He is adding me to his insurance plan. He even asked if I would consider going back for my Masters Degree, since I've wanted to for a long time, and didn't feel ready before. He reminded me that just because I'm not on SSDI anymore doesn't mean that I suddenly have to work 60 hours a week. I am still a woman living with bipolar disorder, and will never be able to handle a huge workload, unless I feel like hanging out in the common room of a psych ward with no shoelaces again.
These are my realities. I had an awesome few days, followed by a big shock to the system, and you know what? I'm going to be fine.
It's been a really long time since I've said that, and it feels bloody marvelous. Hand me a bottle of Grey Goose because I'm taking this big fat lemon and making a fantastic martini with it!
My sisters and some other friends were able to come out and spend some time in NYC with me. I drank FAR too many Long Island Iced Teas, and generally had a splendiferous time. Traveling with Ms. Adi was a real treat; it's not too often that you meet a true kindred spirit, and that said spirit loves Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home EXACTLY AS MUCH AS YOU DO. That is true gold, friends, and only one example of her fabulosity. But I digress.
I get in my front door and start opening mail. There's a letter from Social Security, and I have to call and speak to them to try to get some information straight. I have been on SSDI since 2005, getting some income and Medicare benefits on a monthly basis.
Then comes the blow: I am losing my disability benefits.
Now this is completely within the rules of the program. With the recent addition of a few more voice students, I officially make just over what is allowed while collecting benefits, and it's time for SSDI to help out some other folks who truly need the service.
Of course, that's not what my brain said when it happened. I started crying hysterically, and totally freaking out. "What will I do when I get sick again? My Medicare will be taken away; can Paulie add me to his plan? But it's the middle of the year! What will I have to stop doing? What bills can we eliminate? Do I have to start dropping TFC stuff if I can't afford to drive back and forth and park and AHHHHHH!!!! Blahblahblahblahblah******white noise********.........................". I basically thought in capital letters with no spaces for about an hour.
Then my wonderful logical husband came home, and I told him. His response? "Good! We knew that would happen sooner or later. That means you're getting better!"
Oh yeah. I'm getting better. I'm able to consistently make money. I'm not quitting jobs every 2 seconds because I need to go into the hospital again. I'm not wearing long-sleeved shirts in August because I cut the hell out of my arms the night before, and I don't want the public I'm working with to see them. I'm not running into the bathroom in the middle of the workday to "add on" to my handiwork. I'm not begging God to take me at 3am.
As of April 1st, I will have worked at my local library for 2 years, and I now have 12 voice students. There are even a few more getting ready to start. I sub for some friends at churches, and I've recently played some great theatrical roles.
When I finished calming down, I did the other thing that I do really well: I decided I must be "productive" and started planning my life away. Once again, my knight in shining pharmacy technician armor came to my rescue. He assured me that we would still be financially OK without my benefits, that I could take on a few more students if I liked, and that I should never give up TFC. He is adding me to his insurance plan. He even asked if I would consider going back for my Masters Degree, since I've wanted to for a long time, and didn't feel ready before. He reminded me that just because I'm not on SSDI anymore doesn't mean that I suddenly have to work 60 hours a week. I am still a woman living with bipolar disorder, and will never be able to handle a huge workload, unless I feel like hanging out in the common room of a psych ward with no shoelaces again.
These are my realities. I had an awesome few days, followed by a big shock to the system, and you know what? I'm going to be fine.
It's been a really long time since I've said that, and it feels bloody marvelous. Hand me a bottle of Grey Goose because I'm taking this big fat lemon and making a fantastic martini with it!
