Labels.

I hate labels.

I just want to be me.

Yes, I'm a daughter, friend, mother...

So, I guess I hate labels that make me feel out of place.

Especially this one: Disabled.

So, I applied for disability.

And I was told that 99% of South Dakotans didn't receive it the first time.

And 80% or so didn't receive it the second time.

So, chances were that I'd have to go to court and prove that I wouldn't be able to have a "normal" outside of the home job.

I was approved on Thursday.

A rush of emotions came over me.

Miraculous? Yes.

Helpful? Of course.

Saddened? Sadly, yes.

This will help.

It proves that yes, something is "wrong" with me.
My pain is REAL.

The social security administration believes it.

And it's true.

But how did I get approved the first time?

I know I should just be thankful.

And continue with life.

But, there's that saddened part of me.

Why?

Because I'm now officially "disabled."

There's that label that I don't like.

Yes, I would never be able to work outside the home.

And there are MANY days that I can't even be "mom."

I experience pain DAILY, HOURLY, EVERY SINGLE MINUTE, EVERY SINGLE SECOND.

And I do deserve this.

But, I just wish it didn't have the label with it.

How about "cautioned?"

I don't know... but yikes.

I try to keep reminding myself that,

"Disability is a matter of perception. If you can do just one thing well, you're needed somewhere by someone." - Mobil Corp Ad.

I told myself this when it came to Brandon's mother.

I tell myself this when I see a handicapped person doing something.

But now, I can't tell myself this.

Maybe it's because I feel so different now.

Or maybe because it's all the proof people needed to know I am hurting... but I wish they had just listened from the beginning... believed me, trusted me...

Being approved for disability is a gift for my family since I can't work...

but it still hurts somehow.

Melissa