I finally got up the nerve to schedule a meeting with vocational rehab. I’ve been fearful of it for a long time. I was certain the counselor would say I’m ready to go to work and then two big men would pop in the door and bound me with shackles. While the idea of being in shackles is not necessarily a bad thing, in my mind this was not one of those good scenarios.
I’d always said that Satan would not show up with a pitchfork and a tail, but instead would appear in a very unassuming form. My Voc Rehab Counselor, Christina, was going to prove me right. She was a small little thing and cute as can be. She was going to doom me to a life of flipping burgers while wearing a ball and chain.
As it turns out, the Voc Rehab counselor is not involved in determining whether I’m ready to go to work or not. She’s just there to provide information and options on what to do when MY DOCTOR AND I say I’m ready. What a relief that was.
In the past I assumed I would end up putting pegs in holes the rest of my life. Now I’ve got a better understanding that is not the case. Apparently they’ll even help me get through school (If there is money in the budget) so that I can start my own web design business.
Sure, sure, some would resent my being put through school rather than doing it on my own. I understand that but I also realize that having me continue on the governments payroll isn’t a good option either. I guess the third option would be to toss me out on my ass and make me do what I need to do. I can assure you that I’ve been homeless sleeping on park benches before and I was not in any way a productive member of society.
Yesterday was a terribly depressing day. I was so down that I didn’t shower or shave or brush my teeth the entire day. This morning I had to drag my ass to get to my counselors and now after the visit I can say it’s a pretty good day.
I did weigh myself today and don’t plan to reveal it now. I almost cried, but decided to not let it ruin my bad attitude.