Long and Complicated


You might think this is a post about my life.  It could be, but it’s not.


This is a post about facing my demons and looking at myself squarely in the eye and getting through a difficult time.

Am I talking about complex family problems? Financial woes?  Work troubles? Mental health?

No.  Not this time.

I’m talking about having to sit down at the table and fill out about three sets of forms, all of which were at least nine pages long.  It was nothing earth-shattering.  They were just a set of forms that needed to be completed, signed and submitted.




It requires patience and thoughtfulness and perhaps a little research here and there in order to answer the questions correctly.

But I have never been one for calmly plodding through tedious and somewhat baffling tasks.  I rarely follow recipes and I don’t read directions, either.  Hence, sometimes my brownies come out 1/4 of an inch thick and Ikea furniture is assembled upside down.

However, last week I exercised my grown up inner self and I sat at the desk and completed every question the best way I could and I even calibrated the printer to scan copies of documents.


Is there such a thing as bureaucratiophobia?  If so, I may have conquered it last week.




7 thoughts on “Long and Complicated

  1. I so relate to this! I panic at forms, especially those you have to do in ink, and invariably I make mistakes I have to cross out, or I leave something out and mail it and it gets returned. Last week I had to fill in something very basic for my support group and the social worker said, “You put your street address but not your town.” Every.time.every.form. This is a true story: I almost didn’t return to college after a few years’ break because I didn’t want to fill out the forms. Fortunately, a friend helped me, and I had some lovely classes and experiences. You are a brave and accomplished woman!

  2. Oh. My. Goodness. The start of the school year, all those forms, used to drive me ’round the bend and I only have two sons! Now, to renew a drivers license – cripe. Since our former life was as a Navy family we’d lived all over the country and I had no clue all the states that had issued me a driver’s license. My annual physical? At least ten pages of history every stinking year. So, yeah – right there with you!

    1. I’m glad I’m not the only one. And did you see my comment above to Diane? I got more forms in the post. I’m like Scarlett O’Hara… “Oh fiddle dee dee — I’ll think about it tomorrow…”

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