… is the day we have both been waiting for and dreading; The Disability Hearing. I’m not too bad. I’m quite good at holding it together, oddly enough. Must be all the practice of late! I think years of being told, and of telling people, to not borrow worry have finally sunk in. Really though, I can’t do anything about it. I can go and do my thing, say what I have to say, and hope for the best. I can’t do more than that. I will be there to support John and help him, but I think the most helpless feeling of all is knowing that nothing I can do nor say, will ease the abject terror he is experiencing now. He’s terrified.
He’s been a little like a rabbit in the headlights of an oncoming truck since the moment I opened the letter with our hearing date, and honestly, it’s just been a downward spiral from that point. It’s horribly ironic that his disability is his PTSD and more specifically the debilitating anxiety it causes him. This is the reason he needs the Disability and yet the process is only making him worse. I will be glad when it’s all over so he can finally find some peace, and perhaps even start getting better. It’s a sick kind of torture. There should be a way for people like my husband, with mental health issues, to testify remotely or submit a video or something. There has to be a better way than this.
Anyway, this time tomorrow it will all be over.
Any and all positive thoughts and prayers welcome…
Image Credit: Aarón Blanco Tejedor