08/18/2026
Today, I received a copy of the report from my social security disability exam last month. The examiner concluded his report with, “I have reservations on the motivational efforts displayed in the entire encounter.”
I cannot adequately convey the anger, hurt, and frustration that evokes.
Apparently, I’m making it all up.
If I’m approved for Social Security Disability, it will mean about $1,300 a month.
That’s it.*
No lottery money here.
That’s not even a rent payment.
This stranger who briefly moved my body around, hurled questions at my stressed brain, and skimmed through over four years of medical records, gets to help decide if I should get this pittance.
A pittance I need.
There are so many aspects of disability I hate. But the loss of dignity is absolutely the worst aspect. Using limited energy to try to get the help I need.
Strangers and acquaintances alike get to pass judgment on whether I’m “really” disabled.
Or if I just tried x, y, or z, I’d be all better. As if I haven’t tried just about everything anyone ever suggested.
They don’t see that I rested for days to be able to see them and will suffer for days after because I did.
That’s it. That’s my rant. I miss dignity.
I worked so hard to earn my place in the world. And now all of that hard work is undone. I’m just a tired woman in a wheelchair with questionable “motivational efforts.”
The number one cause of death among people with Myalgic Encephalomyelitis - the form my Long COVID has taken - is su***de.
I’m not suicidal, but I get it. It’s hard to live without dignity. It’s hard to live being treated as a faker who is a drain on society.
Image: My cat, Rose, curled up next me.
*I will also qualify for Medicare which is accepted by more of the specialists I need to see than Medicaid.