It was hard to get up and get ready for work each morning, I wasn’t sleeping very well. I had hurt my back on the job a few years before, and it still wasn’t right. I was in pain all the time.
Finally, I was unable to work at all. My doctor suggested I see a therapist, because he thought I might be depressed. Well, yes, I was a little down. After all, I had no income, I was behind on my rent, and my doctor wouldn’t take my injuries seriously.
The therapist and I had several unproductive sessions. I wanted real-world solutions to my problems; he wanted to talk about my dead relatives. I tried to explain to him that I needed medical help. I needed a disability income. I needed something to happen before I became not only disabled, but homeless.
