Well, it happened. My insurance won’t pay for my medicine. I received three phone calls in the space of 20 minutes telling me I was denied. For the 3rd time.
Part of me is frustrated…I just want to be on the right medicine so I can get on with my life and regain something like stability.
Part of me is scared…We might not get it right on the first time and I could very well go backwards. My head was a scary, exhausting place before we found something that worked.
Part of me is relieved…I can stop living off of samples and worrying about what I’m going to do long term.
But there’s that transition, and lets be real, I suck at them. My anxiety manufactures stress even if there is nothing to be stressed out about it. Within minutes of finding out I already decided the ideal time for the transition to happen (immediately following the Big Conference) and what I can do to be in control of the situation.
So when I express my frustration with my situation, but also explain my plan to handle it (because I always have a plan) the reaction I get is. “Oh. It sounds like you have a plan. Good.” It makes people feel helpless, because the go to response to things like that is something to the effect of “What can you do to make the transition easier?” Meanwhile I’m already there and 5 steps ahead. That’s how I cope. That’s how I have been able to accomplish so much.
But it doesn’t mean I’m not frustrated. And it definitely doesn’t mean I’m not scared.