Archives for the month of: May, 2017

Today has been the absolute pits. I went to sign on, because I had to submit a sick note. Apparently, when I’m ill, the general rule of thumb is that life is going to show me how absolutely alone I am. My counselling sessions have ended again. I cant even explain how I feel about that.  I have no money in my account (we’ll get to that later) so I couldn’t afford to delay handing in my sick note.

The absolute last straw came after 14 unanswered telephone calls. I just wanted to give in, fortunately, I was too ill to do anything except cry myself to sleep. I woke about 1 1/2 later and ate three meals in one go. I will come to regret this…

My advisor said that I needed time off to recuperate, but I have done anything but. My account was closed, because, I’m ill and this is what the tory suicide plan is all about. Lets fuck with this person and see if they kill themselves. When my money didn’t go in, I rang to see where it was. Whoops, they said, we closed your claim. No reason, just cos.

Apparently, rebuilding my claim didn’t extend to telling me what they had done, so I had no idea till I didn’t get paid. My rent was due. I borrowed some money, it wasn’t enough. I had to haul arse into town and pay my art fund in to cover rent and council tax. I have no money but I’m not over my planned over draft, the bank still want to pass my account to collections. I have to make my food last at least three more days. There is enough, but it all needs cooking, except hash browns. I post shit on the internet to keep myself awake while they cook. Or send SOS messages that go unheeded.

My doctors kicked me off their service, so I have to find a new one. I keep missing appointments. I’m officially what they call in my trade living a chaotic lifestyle now. Remember I keep being told that I’m ok, and I’m sane and I can cope etc? Right now, my needs are high enough to warrant support… If I applied for help, I would be too well when it finally comes and would be managed off a support list. I know this is a fractured read, but it’s difficult to concentrate and I’m still crying.

I nearly got run over yesterday, by a man on a bike. I asked him if it was worth nearly running me over to get his train. He said, sorry I wasn’t thinking… I just flipped. I said I didn’t want to hear it. But he just kept going on. I just flipped and told him to shut his fucking mouth. He said there was no need to be rude, I said there was no need to ride a bike 20mph on a footpath. He kept on.

I walked right up to him and I asked him how far he wanted to take things. He pointed to the camera on his head, I said good! When you up load that footage, make sure you put the bit where you clip my jumper on too. He momentarily checked himself, and looked around for intervention. I said, I just want you to shut your fucking mouth, dickhead.

He spent the rest of the time speaking to two men about how badly done to he felt, and he either tried or did take a picture of me on his phone. He felt inconvenienced because I didn’t want to hear about his bad day. I thought if you only fucking knew.

A couple of days before, I had a meeting with the family, they want my bank details for my inheritance. Another false call as it happens, with the added bonus of them letting me know they really don’t like me. It was a bit of a kick in the guts to hear my dad join in. I did what I usually do with things I don’t like to hear, I push it away and let it resurface when I’m really down.

I have to walk up a hill to catch a train, and then walk up another hill to get to the doctors. I can’t afford a taxi. My limbs ache because I can’t breathe and I’m coughing like I have consumption. The doctors gave me some antibiotics for a chest and sinus infection, and I want to be ill in bed, but my body wants food and breathing is secondary to paying my rent, etc. I have to cook or go hungry. I’ve eaten hash browns cooked on a George foreman grill. It’s all I’ve been able to do. I got home from signing on just worn out. My chest rattling, my nose wheezing and feeling like I was drowning. Then I recall the time I tried to patch things up with my mum…

I was saying something about hate being a strong word, trying to give her an out, and she said, “No, I really *hated* you”. Her face wrinkled and her voice filled with that venomous hatred. So while I was lying in bed crying, trying to find someone to love me, that’s what I had in my head. Even your own mother thinks you are not worthy of love.

Someone finally picked up the phone. It was the Samaritans. They wanted to know if there was anyone I could call for help… I still haven’t stopped crying. I fell asleep crying, I woke up crying, I ate crying, I’m typing this crying… I spent the whole of the phone call crying, till he asked if I ever thought about suicide. I laughed and said everyday, but don’t worry, I’m too spiteful to kill myself: my family aren’t getting a fucking penny of the inheritance I don’t have. I was still crying through the laughter and said thanks for speaking to me, and rang off.

The doctors say while it may take me a week or two to stop coughing, I should start to feel better in a few days.

Pull the other one.

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I’m absolutely incredulous at the amount of time it is taking to move out of this phase. I can tell you how I got here: physically, emotionally, psychologically, spiritually, philosophically, sociologically, economically… I have done the reading as a means of trying to find my way out of it.

The last time I healed an emotional wound I looked back and I could list accomplishments like ‘got a degree’. I clearly could not have been doing ‘nothing’ in that time. It’s just that then, as now, I did it all in a haze of dissociation. I was completely overwhelmed by my circumstances whilst refusing to bow to them.

I have to some extent let life wash over me. Sometimes believing that I was giving myself a kind of spiritual once over. I think that’s probably bunkum. I’m just immensely lonely, and very sad. I can not tolerate how deeply I feel that life is passing me by. One year rolls into the next, and I think with each passing year, “you’ve never been so fat”, “so lacking in energy”… and think of all the things that I could have done.

I was the first in my family to get a degree, I was the first to have a career, I went sailing, I engaged in the arts, I actively threw off the shackles of poverty and went to get mine. And now capitalism is functioning like it aught to, the middle and upper classes are squeezing me out of work and maintaining their privilege. And I miss my life.

Knowing this is what’s happening doesn’t make it easier to cope. It highlights the injustices and reinforces my lack of confidence. It successfully gaslights me into compliance. I am the only one complaining. The only other person that understood how this feels, declines to talk to me.

So here I am. Equally loathing myself for feeling sorry for myself, and trying to pep talk myself into taking the least awful routes out of this impasse. I already gave up on taking PIP to tribunal AGAIN, because of the fucking psych evaluation that I had done. The one that confirmed that other than depression (because of my circumstances) I am in fact perfectly sane.

In the long run, this long line of CPN’s and psychiatrist’s and counsellor’s stamp of sanity will be beneficial, but right now, it feels like chains. I am running out of ways to defend myself self against the social. I am living in terror that eventually they are going to sanction me, and that my worst fear will come true: I will end up homeless again.

I can’t handle the pride I feel, and the shame that lives with it. I hate to admit to anyone that knows me that I am out of work. It’s the worst kept secret I’m sure everyone knows, but it’s my Achilles heal. I got a degree, just to end up on the dole. Just who did I think I was anyway.