This is part two of a guest post by abigail of ipickuppennies.net. You can read part 1 here.

Luckily for me, my mom was spurred into action. She got me to find a doctor and get my medications increased for the first time in four years. Additionally, she demanded I go back into therapy. Unfortunately, I had no insurance, so she had to pay out of pocket. Given that her savings was already going to supporting me – and that it needed to last during her divorce proceedings – I did have yet another thing to feel guilty about. During that time, the day-to-day onslaught of life was relentless. I felt like it took herculean efforts just to get through a day.

I often showed up to therapy in a t-shirt and PJ pants, unwashed hair pulled into a ponytail. On those days, the shower had seemed impossible. I couldn’t tell you why – then or now. I would look at it and, logically, I knew it wasn’t a big deal. But emotionally, it seemed painfully complex and difficult.

In short, it was not my finest hour. Yet it was one of the ones that forced me to take a realistic look at my life and to face up to some hard truths. Namely, that I was the d-word: disabled.
Getting started… sort of

After two months of putting it off, I finally completed the application for disability benefits.

Once the application was pending, I was eligible for state help. There was a program called GAU, or General Assistance Unemployable. Just in case we had any lingering sense of self-esteem. The actual program, though, was a godsend. It provided medical coverage – a relief when one of your medications costs over $400 a month – plus food stamps and $330 a month.

I applied on my state department of Health & Human Services website. I was called in for an interview about two weeks later. The social worker sent me to a doctor for a verification of my condition. Once that was rubber-stamped, I was approved for benefits.
There was only one problem with this program. About every month or two, you had to get forms filled out. A sort of progress report, if you will. The medical professionals say you’re still disabled, and your benefits are extended.

Sounds simple enough – except for a severe depressive. When my depression is at its worst, I abhor the telephone. Making a call seems daunting. So I was essentially incapable of making an appointment to see my doctor. When I managed that, I’d be too tired to make the appointment.

I missed just about every deadline for the forms. I’d then spend the last couple days of the month frantically trying to keep my benefits from being terminated. It was exhausting and stressful. On to p of it all, I was perpetually ashamed of what I knew, logically, should be simple.

The waiting game – Meanwhile, my main disability case was progressing at its bureaucratic snail’s pace. In all, my case took a little over 18 months. And that’s considered relatively speedy.

Here’s how a disability case usually goes:
:
1. Application: You fill out around 20 pages about your condition, abilities, and so on.

2. Callback: Two or three weeks later, someone from Social Security calls you to review your application and ask for more detail where necessary.

3. Doctor visit: If you lack a recent medical record, the SSA sends you to an approved medical professional for evaluation. (Always fun trying to prove something like severe fatigue.)

4. Waiting: Two to four months for a decision.

5. Rejection: I’ve heard of people with fatal brain tumors being denied.

6. Appeal: You fill out a short appeals form, asking for reconsideration of your case. .

7. Lawyer (optional): After the first rejection, you can hire a disability lawyer.

8. More waiting: Three to four months for a decision.

9. Another rejection: Most cases are still denied.

10. Hearing request: Ask to plead your case before a judge. .

11. REALLY waiting: They told me to expect an 18-24 month wait for the hearing.

12. Hearing: You have your day in court. The attorney is invaluable – mine said 95% of their disability cases are won at this stage.

I won – now what? – My monthly check was for less than $800. Don’t get me wrong: I was grateful for every penny. Still, when Seattle one-bedroom apartments went for $650-700, it’s worrisome.

My mom and I moved to separate apartments in a slightly rundown building, so our rent was $550 a month. That gave me some breathing room. Still, I had less than $250 a month left over.

I was lucky enough to have a close family member willing and able to help out. My mom helped me with a $20 bill here or there, plus, as a coupon queen, she regularly helped me stock my cupboards. Finally, she let me use her car, so I didn’t worry about bus fare, car insurance or gas.

I also still qualified for food stamps – less than before but still about $70, which cut down on my food costs. Between that and the semi-monthly runs to the food bank, I never hurt for groceries.

Lifestyles of the poor and non-famous – Abstractly, we all know there is help for people with low income. But once you start researching, you’ll find a surprisingly long list. The only caution: You need patience. Many programs have long waiting lists.

Seattle City Light gave me a credit on my electric bill. Since I rarely turned on the heat (I grew up in Anchorage) I rarely owed anything in my two years with the program.

I also received a credit on my phone bill. My usual bill was $20 after taxes – just a line that can receive calls/dial out – but instead I paid $12.

There were a couple of dental clinics that I could get affordable cleanings at. They were cheaper than the UW School of Dentistry rates bya pretty wide margin.

There was also the city’s low-income housing. But most of the locations required a car for any level of convenience – even for people without severe fatigue.

Don’t just stop there, though. There are usually non-profit groups that also arrange cheap housing. Again, you’ll be wait-listed. But it’s a start.

Other non-profits will help with basic expenses: low-cost mechanics, helping you get a car to begin with, educational classes to help you get jobs.

As a disabled person, I qualified for help from the Department of Vocational Rehabilitation. There, you get a counselor who works with you to find a job you can do and helps you find placement. At the time, though, there was an 18-month waiting list.

Low-income people can even receive discounts on things like pet adoptions. Instead of $50 for a cat, you’d pay $35.

So, there were ways to live on what I got. It wasn’t always comfortable, and I relied on my mom far more than I was comfortable with. But I did get by.

Where am I now? – (At 31)

Married – My husband is a wonderful man, who doesn’t care if I can’t work. He’s also very patient with my depressive symptoms. He also has chronic illnesses: severe eczema and asthma. We takecare of each other as best we can.

In Phoenix. Tim’s breakouts were constant and severe – even for him. They came with so many MRSA infections, we literally lost count. Phoenix’s dry weather and abundant sun keep his skin to a relative calm – at least for him. The sunlight also helps my depression.
Bipolar(?) My most recent diagnosis is Bipolar II. Essentially, the manic episodes are far less severe. The diagnosis does fit, based on what I’ve read. More importantly, the new medication calms down my most severe mood swings..

Finally, employed – A pure turn of fate, someone mentioned me to someone else who was considering adding a customer service representative. I’m able to work from home, and my boss is okay with me taking short breaks as needed, so long as I keep up with emails in a relatively timely fashion.

As a contract worker, I will need to keep Medicare for as long as I can – about six years, by the way – but I’ll officially be off disability checks starting next month.