life is complicated enough without the outside interference of individuals whose main concern is to save some corporate bigwigs money so they won't miss their annual trip to Fiji. My life seems to be one where it is all about buying expensive cars and jewels and furs, but, unfortunately, I don't get to wear any of them because I am buying them for perfect strangers who already have more luxury than should ever be allowed a human being.
No one needs this racket. As if being an overweight mental case who is not quite human isn't enough on one's own plate, they feel necessary to add more to it by forcing me to do their jobs rather than they doing their own. I abhor the medical profession and have for so many years and it comes as a surprise that I could find something to stick up for in that chosen field. I actually hate another entity even more than medicine because they are all that is wrong with medicine to begin with and we all know it comes down to government, and lord knows how many times I curse and throw up the one finger gang signs to really show my love their way! Medicine has been wrong for so many years and I have seen some of its greatest triumphs and some of its worse defeats. Twenty years it took over a hundred educated assholes to solve what was wrong with me and ultimately they didn't, I did. It took them some bit to even allow me to diagnose myself and it was a hard pill for them to swallow but swallow it they did, even one medical professional had gotten fired in the ordeal. So to sit here and have to back them up and point out how they get so corrupt is not so much a great shock as a great loss to me of the love I had for the disdain I held for anyone in a white coat with that penlight they use to check your irises to see if your dumbass is blind or not! My team of mental health professionals are at their wits end handling my psychosis (happy to say I have none) and the exact terminology and diagnosis is this: I am a morbidly obese (meaning my weight contributes to my poor health and is threatening my life regardless of how it got there. It is not a judgement so much as an observation and means nothing about my ability to function or my overall ambition to work and all things physical-to the contrary I am more active than some of my more healthier peers and even my own youthful child...), severe major depressive with anxiety disorder with GERD and EPP and am totally frustrated with the world enough to have suicidal and homicidal tendencies. Nice isn't it? It isn't my doctors' fault that I am what I am and I am so appreciative of how they are trying to work WITH me and allow me my dignity and say on what happens to my self.
So, we take what we know from that and we get here, to today, where the insurance company (rhymes with BET WIFE) feels privileged enough to side-step the government laws of mental illness diagnostics to allow a complete stranger to look over my paperwork and notes from my three doctors and determine that a woman who hates everyone and cannot be near light of any kind, who suffers from multiple fractures often and routinely and has severe chronic inflammatory disease as well as be depressed enough to not give a shit who lives or dies save her kid, and deem her fit for work and social settings. The problem with that diagnosis is that HE would have had to meet me and unless he snuck into my bedroom unawares in the middle of any particular night, he hasn't! I am approved for my long term disability, already, through its full duration but they are trying to see if they can get me off their payroll and cut costs at my and my kid's expense. Somewhere I hear another wealthy couple boarding a plane for some tropical oasis on my money and tax dollars. I have five, count it 5 medical professionals, one primary care physician, a hematologist and oncologist, a psychiatrist, a biophysio-psychologist and a therapist who all think I am mad with a capital M-A-D, and fucked up physically enough to not do a damn thing but rant online! And I am too-I assure you all of this. My genetic predisposition alone is enough to render me useless in the workforce which antagonizes my depression worse because, here's the clincher, I WANT TO GO BACK TO WORK! Doctor's and such don't feel it is safe for me as well as those around me to go back into the workplace. They don't feel I will EVER be able to. I have had enough! They know it and agree that they wouldn't want the amusement park trip I have had for a life and are, somehow, a better peoples for it knowing they had been spared my shit sandwich as it were. I can even hear the almost inaudible sighs when I enter a room for they know no matter how yuck their day was it certainly wasn't as sucking as mine! Who wants to hire a woman who isn't medically cleared to go to work? Who wants the risk of putting her under lights and making her climb stairs with broken legs? Who wants to put themselves or their employees in her path knowing she will blow up, uncensored, at any moment and possibly take a few out with herself? I have been a boss and a pee-on and let me assure you I wouldn't hire me. I wouldn't even make me stand on a street corner selling crystal-meth. But I am "OK'd" to go back to work because some fake psychiatrist acting as a legal counsel for fancy suits who are late for tee-off thinks I am a slacker. FUCK! I have worked everyday since I was 11years old! I have even worked two and three jobs at one time while trying to take care of elderly grandparents and siblings' kids while they went to work and such. I have had money and I have had to scrap about when I didn't. I worked factories stuck in the Iron Age and worked sales floors in heels dealing with multiples of assholes at a time. I have done phone sex! Actually talking to lonely pedophiles and trying to convince them that me beating the shit out of them was more arousing then them playing with some kid off the playground! I have been a chef, teacher, clerk, banker, foreman, singer (yes paid), Avon delivery agent, child care worker, elder care worker, mechanic and just about every middle management to entry level shit sucker you can think of for the last twenty five years-up to 2009 when I decided the world was a better place without my fat ass whining in it. NO ONE calls me a fucking slacker or lazy or weak! FUCK FUCK FUCK!!! My kid is healthy and her boyfriend too and I am broken and confused and scared and depressed and I still can run circles around them physically and intelligently! Of course, I pay dearly for a few days but then I am back up and running around all over again doing shit I ought not to because everyone keeps pushing me and mistaking me for a fucker who is human and gives a shit! I'm done! I'm fed up. I will let you all mow it over for a bit while I go slack some alcohol on my wounds and begin the mental meltdown and strategize what I need to do to make these fuckers see what is really going on.~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves!
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