Applying for Disability Benefits is Crippling

I am not a thief. I am not a liar. I don’t want to hurt anyone, nor do I want to see anyone hurt. All I want is what is justly mine; something “I actually earned.” Two years ago I applied for disability benefits. This was not something I had planned or intended to do. The decision came to me when after a number of tries at jobs I never would have even considered applying for came to abrupt ends for who knows why. I took a long look at myself and came to the conclusion that something was wrong with me. The problem was, I did not know exactly what. I had become bitter, very angry and defensive. For the first time in my life, I felt ashamed of myself; my life. My questions for myself were: Where am I? Where am I going? What is to become of me? What about my family? My answers: I am nowhere; on my way to nowhere and had become someone who could do nothing for neither myself nor my family. That was when I decided to put an end to my “nothing” existence.

My husband tried to help by suggesting that I apply for disability benefits. He also talked me into getting professional help. The first time I applied for disability benefits, I was immediately denied, but appealed after I was told that everyone was turned down at first. He arranged for me to meet with a psychiatrist who later diagnosed me with Major Depressive Disorder (MDD), Agoraphobia, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) and Adult Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder (AADHD). This information was all reported to my disability benefits representative (a law firm) who handled my case. Six months later, my hearing came up. I was denied. When I received the “decision” letter in the mail, I found that there were issues the judge used that were never brought up during the hearing. I went to my representative to respond to the issues that were pointed out in the judge’s letter…There is a section that refers to my not seeking medical treatment for an eight month period: 11/06-07/07-That time frame is when I first began feeling the overwhelmingly exhausting effects of Agoraphobia which I did not know I suffered from. When I did finally see my personal physician about this, I told her how ashamed I felt. She started me on prescriptions for antidepressants. The section that refers to my being well-groomed leads me to believe that I am being punished for trying to show some form of dignity. I was raised to never leave home without being presentable; no matter what. Since the doctor’s office is the only place I went, I made sure to clean myself up as best as possible. Just because I may not have “looked depressed,” doesn’t mean I wasn’t. There were many times that I had to call and cancel my appointments because I just “couldn’t” go; there were other times when I “couldn’t afford” to go. (Every time I saw a doctor, it cost me $30.00 up front…lab was extra!) As for assuming the role of primary caregiver for my nephew who is on dialysis, all I did was take him and drop him off at the clinic. I did not have to get out or sit with him or anything more because he went three days a week, four hours each session. I picked him up when he was ready. I did this until he was healthy enough to drive himself to and from the dialysis clinic, which was about three weeks later. When I reported to my psychiatrist about being “worn out” from being there for my nephew, I did not mean physically, but mentally. The situation is what gets to me because his parents were unable to provide the kind of time and attention he needed, so I decided to do whatever I could for my nephew during his life or death ordeal. I also let the representative know what a hardship the system has left me with: I was told that it helps my case tremendously in determining disability benefits, as long as I am seeing a doctor, and have current prescriptions. This put my family and me in a terrible bind because of the piles of bills that were created that we are unable to pay.