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Insurance anxiety and insomnia, and where I've been these last few days.
My father has tried to make the attempt to get me health insurance as easy for me as possible, handing as much of it as a third party can and then finding me a professional to help with the rest, and I'm beyond grateful for it—because not only is it wonderful in its own right, it shows a knowledge and tolerance for my inability to handle ... well, you know, basic adult responsibility. That's not something he's had, at least not so explicitly, until recently—and while it's not something he should need to have, it means a lot to me that he does.
But neither he nor the professional helping us can do everything, and the little bit that still falls to me has me tied up in knots inside. I need to contact my old doctor to try to request info they probably don't have* in order to give one insurance company information they don't actually need**, and it's been weeks now and I just ... can't do it. It means making a phone call, to talk about my health, with an old doctor because I haven't seen a doctor in years, because being a grown up and doing grown up things is literally beyond my abilities—and once that's done I have to do more paperwork, and send it in, and then wait to hear what else I need to do before this business is finished—meanwhile both of the other people involved with this keep sending me emails checking in and asking for updates. It's like a checklist of things of things that make me anxious, and would you look at all those tick marks. Instead of being grateful about the enormous kindness my father is showing me, I'm failing to do the few tiny things I do to repay him and I have no excuse for it other than lalala I can't hear you.
It came at a bad time, at the end of a busy month when all I wanted was just to sleep for a week and do nothing social for two more. I don't even know. When I write it, it sound small and I sound irresponsible, but there we go. This is the sort of thing that keeps me up nights.
I mean literally. I'm trying to right my sleep schedule after spending a few days in reverse: sleeping at dawn, waking an hour before dusk. I sleep better during the day (read more) and like shit at night (read more) and for those reasons among others I do this sometime, wander around the clock. I'm lucky that I can, no responsibilities or schedules, but it's not a good thing, no matter how peaceful it is to sleep in sunlight. It means that I'm worn so thin, that the anxiety is worse than usual and sleep is even more inaccessible, and that I have to go into full isolation- and indulgence-mode to get by.
So I stayed up a day and a half and took a nap and stayed up some more, eking out half hours of waking daytime, half-lucid and very tired—and then as soon as nighttime proper rolled around and it was okay to sleep I didn't want to. And here it is at 3a the next day and I'm doing the same. It's not even a present sort of anxiety—I've been procrastinating this so long that I honestly am forgetting to call instead of thinking about it all the time and trying to make as though it's slipped my mind. It's a background thrum, a general depression, a desire to be not here and not me for as long as possible—but not via sleep, now now, not while it's not safe to sleep.
Every time I write a post like this, I end by saying: I have no big conclusions. It sounds pathetic when put in words. I'm writing for my own records. And each time I find myself in this cycle I feel betrayed anew: by my body, for creating the problems that need doctor's signatures; by my brain, for finding every reason—the problems, the signatures—to be upset about it.
My sister comes back from studying abroad in Italy on Saturday. My parents are picking me up, then her, and we'll go out to dinner and then take her home. We'll decorate the tree while I'm in town, and Hanukkah begins on Tuesday. My father's birthday is on the 21st. There are many reasons why I need to be rested up and sleeping nights; reasons why I want to be happy. Instead, I'm still not sleeping.
* I have minor scoliosis and major lordosis. Scoliosis is frequently diagnosed and, when diagnosed, measured in degrees of curvature. Lordosis is a rarer diagnosis, has more complex points of curvature, and as such is rarely diagnosed with a degree of curvature. ** One insurance agency wants the degree of curvature for my back, by which they assume scoliosis, which is basically asking the wrong question: that number alone doesn't warrant a diagnosis; it's that it aggravates a more severe back problem that makes it an issue. In other words: fuck you.
But neither he nor the professional helping us can do everything, and the little bit that still falls to me has me tied up in knots inside. I need to contact my old doctor to try to request info they probably don't have* in order to give one insurance company information they don't actually need**, and it's been weeks now and I just ... can't do it. It means making a phone call, to talk about my health, with an old doctor because I haven't seen a doctor in years, because being a grown up and doing grown up things is literally beyond my abilities—and once that's done I have to do more paperwork, and send it in, and then wait to hear what else I need to do before this business is finished—meanwhile both of the other people involved with this keep sending me emails checking in and asking for updates. It's like a checklist of things of things that make me anxious, and would you look at all those tick marks. Instead of being grateful about the enormous kindness my father is showing me, I'm failing to do the few tiny things I do to repay him and I have no excuse for it other than lalala I can't hear you.
It came at a bad time, at the end of a busy month when all I wanted was just to sleep for a week and do nothing social for two more. I don't even know. When I write it, it sound small and I sound irresponsible, but there we go. This is the sort of thing that keeps me up nights.
I mean literally. I'm trying to right my sleep schedule after spending a few days in reverse: sleeping at dawn, waking an hour before dusk. I sleep better during the day (read more) and like shit at night (read more) and for those reasons among others I do this sometime, wander around the clock. I'm lucky that I can, no responsibilities or schedules, but it's not a good thing, no matter how peaceful it is to sleep in sunlight. It means that I'm worn so thin, that the anxiety is worse than usual and sleep is even more inaccessible, and that I have to go into full isolation- and indulgence-mode to get by.
So I stayed up a day and a half and took a nap and stayed up some more, eking out half hours of waking daytime, half-lucid and very tired—and then as soon as nighttime proper rolled around and it was okay to sleep I didn't want to. And here it is at 3a the next day and I'm doing the same. It's not even a present sort of anxiety—I've been procrastinating this so long that I honestly am forgetting to call instead of thinking about it all the time and trying to make as though it's slipped my mind. It's a background thrum, a general depression, a desire to be not here and not me for as long as possible—but not via sleep, now now, not while it's not safe to sleep.
Every time I write a post like this, I end by saying: I have no big conclusions. It sounds pathetic when put in words. I'm writing for my own records. And each time I find myself in this cycle I feel betrayed anew: by my body, for creating the problems that need doctor's signatures; by my brain, for finding every reason—the problems, the signatures—to be upset about it.
My sister comes back from studying abroad in Italy on Saturday. My parents are picking me up, then her, and we'll go out to dinner and then take her home. We'll decorate the tree while I'm in town, and Hanukkah begins on Tuesday. My father's birthday is on the 21st. There are many reasons why I need to be rested up and sleeping nights; reasons why I want to be happy. Instead, I'm still not sleeping.
* I have minor scoliosis and major lordosis. Scoliosis is frequently diagnosed and, when diagnosed, measured in degrees of curvature. Lordosis is a rarer diagnosis, has more complex points of curvature, and as such is rarely diagnosed with a degree of curvature. ** One insurance agency wants the degree of curvature for my back, by which they assume scoliosis, which is basically asking the wrong question: that number alone doesn't warrant a diagnosis; it's that it aggravates a more severe back problem that makes it an issue. In other words: fuck you.