I'm a 31 year old American expat living in Oslo, Norway, with my bulldog, Ada, and my husband, Johannes. My interests include interaction design, especially information architecture, philosophy of mind and ethics, cognitive psychology, sociobiology, feminism, yoga, fat acceptance, knitting, pottery, and cooking.And what do you do?
Nothing. I’ve canned my thesis.
It just wasn’t going to happen, so I made it official. I’m no longer considering myself a student. My attempt at getting a master’s degree is now on indefinite hold. I’m just too fucked in the head to make it work at the point in time.
So, I’ve applied for disability. There’s lots of different kinds of disability here in Norway. The kind I’ve applied for is “Rehabiliterinspenger”, the kind that’s only for one year, generally, and that you’re supposed to get while you’re actively trying to get better. I can probably get it for two years, and then it’s on to a different kind of disability.
My shrink thinks that I can get better enough so that I can live a normal life. I have nowhere near the hope she has, but whatever. For now, it just makes sense to make reality official and apply for the disability. Whooo ain’t life grand.