Today I got up quite early. I put my mobile phone/alarm on my table and away from my bed so that I would have to get up early. I had a period of about 10-15 minutes where I felt quite horrible and groggy. After that short period of grogginess I felt better. I got up early to sign in to the job centre. As I got into the job centre, there was a short queue as the building had not opened yet. The queue at a job centre was a sight that I have never seen before, as the doors were often opened. This image was one that I see on the news all the time and actually being a part of it made me grow up a bit and humbled me.
I had a long wait to sign in. There were 2-3 people who signed in before me despite me handing over my papers earlier. I observed a lot of black people. There were a lot of people who probably were aged between 17-20; they mentioned how they wanted to go to uni and were thinking about going as an alternative to unemployment. That sounded refreshing that these guys would turn to education so willingly. I saw a few asians, eastern europeans and midget women. A few obese people were there as well. I recall a man who was probably between 35-42 who came with his adorable little daughter, she was smaller than my nephew and probably even younger; but she was walking and she had the most adorable lexicon. The little child said: dada, mama and byebyeee. The child also had a tiny T-shirt that had a picture of Elmo on it that said 'tickle me'. Seeing a child can give me instant joy. I love adorable children and I find them a source of joy in my life. My parents often bicker although when my nephew comes for his weekly visit we often unite in our adoration of him.
I was in this wait to sign in for around an hour. I managed to miss the hourly train home so i was stranded on the station. At least there was a metro to read for the space of 15 minutes and a nice article on how men are becoming more image conscious. After reading the metro I decided to leave the waiting room and stand outside while listening to the mp3 player blaring from my heavy metal playlist.
I was frustrated at the long wait at the job centre but I was slightly absolved of that when the man at the desk apologised for the wait. I felt a bit more sympathetic that he had acknowledged the wait and that it was slightly irritating. Establishing that it is the second signing in that I have had on the basis of my new claim; I have to go to this mandatory monthly thing that I have already went to in my first claim. On the plus side at least I get money into my account. That seems to be the only thing that my lousy self seemed to focus on when I was being frustrated by the riff raff that were passing by me with their lack of social mobility. I was thinking about all the things that I could buy with an account that has about £380.
I was then having a few triggering moments while I was waiting both for signing in and going home. That little girl reminded me of Antonia's daughter and how she is constantly growing up. I thought about going jogging again. I may go after this blasted job centre meeting on monday morning. I have made my schedule quite busy this coming week, and I need to be far more organised. I think that waking up early was a good call, and I may try that mobile phone trick more often. A good hot drink also helps.
Since coming home, I have been preparing materials for my interview tomorrow. I am nearly finished with the preparations, all I need is to finalise my lesson plan, print it out, and then plan a route. It feels very long to me as I want to just give up and lay down. I am quite tired and that will make for a good night's sleep.
Today was the scheduled telephone assessment for my counselling. After the call had ended, I went for a wee and started writing this blog post, with intermittent pauses and monologues to myself while typing, I think that the outcome may not have been as good as I initially sought it to be.
The interviewer called me an hour late, she had apologised with an explanation that seemed valid, and given my previous delight at people apologising for genuine things outside of their control, I overlooked the previous anger that I was building up to throw at them. During the interview they had asked me questions about my condition, they seemed to be very superficial, but important to establish some background of where i am and so forth.
I pointed out some things that I found difficult to answer; one question was posed as if it were a conclusion from the previous premise but if that were so it would have been a non-sequitur so I clarified that up with them. I also found some questions difficult to answer because the condition of the answer was to give a number between zero to eight.
How badly do you want this depression sorted out? In a scale? I can't say. I want some way to move forward and to find some resolution to the situation. Some of the questions seemed very forward and in such a way that I am only able to answer with a pause and in the intimacy of trust. Neither factors I had in the case of a phone call. I ended the phone call when I answered a question and I made the point that things seemed to be phenomenologically similar to how my depression was in the past. I don't know about specific medical words or anything like that and I stated that I did not want things to end up the way that they did last time.
The woman did not know what phenomenology was, and asked 'you are worried about the nature of existence'? At that point, the penny dropped, I had a somewhat triggering moment and I said with grace, calm and bluntness: That's ontological, you fuck.
The call ended and I had a brief, controlled moment of anger. They haven't called back. I was preparing to fire some hate at them for not recognising that phenomenological self-report is an increasingly recognised term in the recent literature in philosophy of medicine and medical humanities. I felt a vigilante sense of victory as i put the phone down on them, and it reminded me of what happened in the past. I now, in the time I have taken to pause and type this post, perhaps regret that decision of deriding them. They might not follow up my case. I won't have a chance to abuse them any more. Perhaps most upsetting is that I've shot myself in the foot in terms of advancing my progress. Back to work.
I had a long wait to sign in. There were 2-3 people who signed in before me despite me handing over my papers earlier. I observed a lot of black people. There were a lot of people who probably were aged between 17-20; they mentioned how they wanted to go to uni and were thinking about going as an alternative to unemployment. That sounded refreshing that these guys would turn to education so willingly. I saw a few asians, eastern europeans and midget women. A few obese people were there as well. I recall a man who was probably between 35-42 who came with his adorable little daughter, she was smaller than my nephew and probably even younger; but she was walking and she had the most adorable lexicon. The little child said: dada, mama and byebyeee. The child also had a tiny T-shirt that had a picture of Elmo on it that said 'tickle me'. Seeing a child can give me instant joy. I love adorable children and I find them a source of joy in my life. My parents often bicker although when my nephew comes for his weekly visit we often unite in our adoration of him.
I was in this wait to sign in for around an hour. I managed to miss the hourly train home so i was stranded on the station. At least there was a metro to read for the space of 15 minutes and a nice article on how men are becoming more image conscious. After reading the metro I decided to leave the waiting room and stand outside while listening to the mp3 player blaring from my heavy metal playlist.
I was frustrated at the long wait at the job centre but I was slightly absolved of that when the man at the desk apologised for the wait. I felt a bit more sympathetic that he had acknowledged the wait and that it was slightly irritating. Establishing that it is the second signing in that I have had on the basis of my new claim; I have to go to this mandatory monthly thing that I have already went to in my first claim. On the plus side at least I get money into my account. That seems to be the only thing that my lousy self seemed to focus on when I was being frustrated by the riff raff that were passing by me with their lack of social mobility. I was thinking about all the things that I could buy with an account that has about £380.
I was then having a few triggering moments while I was waiting both for signing in and going home. That little girl reminded me of Antonia's daughter and how she is constantly growing up. I thought about going jogging again. I may go after this blasted job centre meeting on monday morning. I have made my schedule quite busy this coming week, and I need to be far more organised. I think that waking up early was a good call, and I may try that mobile phone trick more often. A good hot drink also helps.
Since coming home, I have been preparing materials for my interview tomorrow. I am nearly finished with the preparations, all I need is to finalise my lesson plan, print it out, and then plan a route. It feels very long to me as I want to just give up and lay down. I am quite tired and that will make for a good night's sleep.
Today was the scheduled telephone assessment for my counselling. After the call had ended, I went for a wee and started writing this blog post, with intermittent pauses and monologues to myself while typing, I think that the outcome may not have been as good as I initially sought it to be.
The interviewer called me an hour late, she had apologised with an explanation that seemed valid, and given my previous delight at people apologising for genuine things outside of their control, I overlooked the previous anger that I was building up to throw at them. During the interview they had asked me questions about my condition, they seemed to be very superficial, but important to establish some background of where i am and so forth.
I pointed out some things that I found difficult to answer; one question was posed as if it were a conclusion from the previous premise but if that were so it would have been a non-sequitur so I clarified that up with them. I also found some questions difficult to answer because the condition of the answer was to give a number between zero to eight.
How badly do you want this depression sorted out? In a scale? I can't say. I want some way to move forward and to find some resolution to the situation. Some of the questions seemed very forward and in such a way that I am only able to answer with a pause and in the intimacy of trust. Neither factors I had in the case of a phone call. I ended the phone call when I answered a question and I made the point that things seemed to be phenomenologically similar to how my depression was in the past. I don't know about specific medical words or anything like that and I stated that I did not want things to end up the way that they did last time.
The woman did not know what phenomenology was, and asked 'you are worried about the nature of existence'? At that point, the penny dropped, I had a somewhat triggering moment and I said with grace, calm and bluntness: That's ontological, you fuck.
The call ended and I had a brief, controlled moment of anger. They haven't called back. I was preparing to fire some hate at them for not recognising that phenomenological self-report is an increasingly recognised term in the recent literature in philosophy of medicine and medical humanities. I felt a vigilante sense of victory as i put the phone down on them, and it reminded me of what happened in the past. I now, in the time I have taken to pause and type this post, perhaps regret that decision of deriding them. They might not follow up my case. I won't have a chance to abuse them any more. Perhaps most upsetting is that I've shot myself in the foot in terms of advancing my progress. Back to work.
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