Well, that wasn’t any fun…

Folks, yesterday was a real bad day in BeerVille, let me tell you. I broke one of my cardinal rules: I got involved in a political discussion on Facebook. I couldn’t help it. My husband, God love him, he’s a rabblerouser.  He posted something about Crazy Eyes Bachman and before you know it, there were over 100 comments. Apparently he’s friends with some Tea Baggers  Partiers, and they didn’t cotton to his opinions.

Again, normally I wouldn’t get involved. Not worth the energy. But when this one particular crazy bitch had the audacity to say that ALL people who are on unemployment are lazy and useless and deserve to starve because she’s tired of footing the bill for all of the users and takers, I lost my marbles. She said that she knows people with no arms and no legs who work full time jobs, and if those people can find work, than ANYONE should be able to find work, no matter who they are, so if they don’t take what’s out there, then fuck them. That’s a pretty bold statement to make, and it’s a REALLY broad generalization. You can’t say shit like that and not expect some opposition.

Folks, my husband is on unemployment. He has been since mid-December 2010. He has a ton of physical restrictions, all imposed by his myriad of physicians. The cardiologist and cardiothoracic surgeon both say “no stress, no physical labor, no stress”. The neurosurgeon who works on his shattered spine says “no job where you’d just be sitting at a desk all day”. The foot surgeon who works on his gnarly foot, which has 4 bones fused together into an anvil-shaped lump, says “no job where you’d be on your feet all day”. Guys, I don’t know about you, but I’m really hard pressed to find a job that can accommodate that particular set of restrictions. He spends 5-6 hours each and every day looking for work. He fills out applications, sends in resumes, does phone interviews. As soon as he tells potential employers about his restrictions, they all say the same thing:

“Well, thanks for speaking with us, we’ll be in touch.” Yeah, okay.

That being the case, last year he filed for disability benefits. All of his doctors have said that he should qualify. Social Security said that, with his “skill set” (20 years experience working the ramp for TWA/American Airlines, and 5 years in the bank call center), he should be able to find work, and denied his initial claim. So we hired a really good lawyer to file an appeal. We’ve been playing the waiting game for several months, and I know that’s how it goes with SSDI, and I also know that there’s not a whole lot of money in the old Social Security system, so I’m not holding my breath for a quick hearing.

Anyway…you guys can see why I’d be a little bit sensitive to Bitchy McBitcherson’s general statement that all people on unemployment are lazy assholes who don’t deserve to eat. So I got involved. And I continued to get more and more and more angry. I found myself in the kitchen pounding the ever-loving shit out of a piece of steak and then cooking a shitload of delicious Italian food.

That thread my husband started ended up with well over 130 comments on it, and it made my head hurt real bad. I couldn’t understand why I allowed myself to get so angry, and then stay so angry the entire day. I let it ruin my whole entire day, and I couldn’t let it go. I just yelled all day. At Jimmy. At the cats. At myself. I don’t like being that angry.

And then we got a call from a friend, a call we’d been waiting for since Friday night. We had to make a run to Illinois to meet said friend, and on the way there, I was looking at the gorgeous, bright, shining FULL MOON. And I realized I hadn’t had my happy cocktail since Thursday night. I rectified the cocktail situation as soon as we got back from IL, the moon is no longer full, and I am no longer super pissed.


One response to “Well, that wasn’t any fun…

  1. Ugh, facebook politics. I try to stay away, too.

    It’s easy to get angry over things people say on there…I think folks are more likely to state hurtful opinions on the Internet, forgetting that someone with feelings will actually read what they’ve written.

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