FERS & CSRS Disability Retirement: That wretched attachment to life

The theoretical construct proposed by Darwin has proven itself many times over, according to evolutionists, since his initial dawn of delineating the “origins” of our existence; the urge towards existence, of remaining, of “being” as an instinctive component that cannot be denied, has become merely an accepted and acceptable normative paradigm of modernity.

In many ways, the inherent attachment to life itself is the basis of a wretchedness that leads to self-destructive behavior; many of us hate ourselves and do things that hurt and harm – a mode of self-immolation and Western-style seppuku that results in self-medicating devices encapsulating the spectrum from overeating, alcoholism, multiple partners and spreading of diseases untold; or, on the other end of the extreme, of become vegetarian, vegan, health-fitness-exercise-cosmetic-surgery and everything else to stay young and vibrant.

That wretched attachment to life cannot be avoided; it is who we are and the essence of our very being.  Is there such a thing as an “unhealthy” attachment to life?  It is all well and good for Camus to write about the Myth of Sisyphus and the need to turn away from self-annihilation before being able to live an “authentic” life; he was handsome, a pretty good writer, and French (or, actually, Algerian) to boot, and his only competition was a near-blind ally who was close to incoherent in philosophical discourse (i.e., referring to Sartre, of course).

But back to the idea at hand – of that wretched attachment to life.  We see it in old people attached to mechanical apparatus to prolong it; of humanism and even religiosity that remains suspicious as to whether there is truly anything else in the great “beyond” after death; and so we cling to life at all costs.  What would be the alternative?  To live a quality-filled, balanced existence? We sometimes forget why we became what we are today, and become steeped too deeply in the troubles of everyday existence.

For Federal employees and U.S. Postal workers who suffer from a medical condition, such that the medical condition becomes the focal point of existence itself, there is a double whammy: Of the chronic and often debilitating medical condition itself, as well as worrying about and contending against the daily harassment and adversarial threats initiated by the Federal agency or the Postal facility, and it often becomes so burdensome that one wonders as to that wretched attachment to life.

But always go back to basics, to the foundation of Darwinian essence: Life is, indeed precious, and sometimes it takes a different sort of step in order to regain the balance in life that is needed.  Filing for Federal Disability Retirement is merely that step in order to reorient one’s self for a future course of life.  It is a means to an end, where a Federal Disability Retirement allows for the Federal or Postal employee to separate and retire with an annuity, then to consider one’s future after attending first to the medical conditions one is suffering from.

In that sense, that wretched attachment to life is more akin to the Hindu concept of reincarnation, where obtaining a Federal Disability Retirement through OPM is like returning to this life in a different form, and becoming resurrected from the ashes of the metaphorical Phoenix to live another day.

Sincerely,

Robert R. McGill, Esquire

 

Federal Disability Retirement: Delaying the Inevitable

Projection of future events, anticipation of coming circumstances, and rumination upon conflicts yet to occur; these are very human experiences beyond mere base anxieties.  Other primates may recognize and prepare to react to events about to develop, but the wide spectrum of time between the current state of affairs, and the projected future event, is perhaps the most telling factor in differentiating the complexity of human beings from other animals.

It is precisely because of this capacity to foretell, and thereby choose to forego, that we often allow for troubles to exponentially quantify, despite out own self-knowledge as to what is in our own best interests.  Perhaps that, too, is a telltale sign of complexity:  the ability to do that which is against one’s own egocentric universe.

For Federal employees and U.S. Postal workers who suffer from a medical condition, such that the medical condition begins to prevent the Federal or Postal worker from performing one or more of the essential elements of one’s positional duties, the recognition that current circumstances cannot last forever, or even for very much longer, occurs fairly early on.

Is it the fear of actually acknowledging the truth of the inevitable?  Or, perhaps, merely a prayerful hope that things will change, that the next doctor’s visit will further enlighten, or that the medication prescribed, the surgery noted, and the therapy scheduled, will somehow improve such that one can continue to perform the essential elements of one’s Federal or Postal job?

Medical conditions, however, have a blunt and honest way of informing; it is not like a whisper or a winter’s cold which nags for a few days; the former can be clarified by asking to speak louder; the latter can be attended to by rest and a generous infusion of liquids.  But a medical condition?  It is that stressor in life where, despite out best efforts to ignore or wish away, the reality of its existence portends of our vulnerability and our fragile nature.

Preparing, formulating and filing for Federal Disability Retirement benefits through the U.S. Office of Personnel Management, whether the Federal or Postal employee is under FERS, CSRS or CSRS Offset, is often the next, and inevitable step, towards securing a better tomorrow.  It is that “tomorrow” which cannot be delayed for too long, and despite the greater nature of our souls in hoping for a brighter future, the truth is that delaying the inevitable does nothing to stop the rotation of the earth on its axis; it merely fools the fool who foolishly fails to fully follow the path away from folly.

Sincerely,

Robert R. McGill, Esquire