A month is up today.
It has been a strange month, full of the usual highs and lows, birthdays and sick days, all underpinned by this constant feeling of nausea and fear. I have been stuck in this permenant state of ‘poor me’, as kind people ask me what the latest news is on my case. I find myself repeating the same set of info, sent letters, got support, it’s a waiting game.
I might as well bury my head in the sand, for the all help I can be to myself right now.
I’ll admit it, I am a total control freak. I am bossy, loud and super organised. I love to help people, so being utterly helpless seems like such a cruel twist of fate. This incredible specialist in clinical immunology I see, once told me that the majority of people that come through her door are the same. Smart, enthusiastic, full of gumption, yet utterly unable to fulfil their potential due to their stupid bodies. It truly sucks. Mother Nature can be so mean! Imagine what we could do if only we had our health…
See, I’m in ‘poor me’ mode.
Can’t help it.
It’s a role that has been forced upon me, an omnipresent feeling that my world is about to fall apart. It’s stupid really, it’s just a car. It’s just money. In the context of current global events, how insignificant is my story? I’m ashamed to even be bringing it up.
In my little pocket of the world it is everything though, as always it’s about context. I am lucky I live in Great Britain, we have education, healthcare, freedom of speech (for now). I spend my days feeling generally safe. So in the context of my country, my home, my life, my community, yes things are pretty rough right now. More than anything, I just want to know what I am up against, so I can ‘make a plan and execute the plan’.
We do love a bit of military speak in our pacifist house.
This morning I spoke with a lady at the DWP, who informed me that there is no timeframe for them to respond to madatory reconsideration requests, the current wait is 8/9 weeks. Only I am obliged to follow the one month timeframe apparently. She informed me that they had all my supporting evidence by the 10th June, and I am just in a ‘work queue, waiting to be looked at’.
I am not actually sure how I am going to last this potential further 5 weeks. The car is due to go back in less than two. I don’t want to accept offers of help I might not need, and waste others money, and kindness on transport. We have a holiday booked (paid for in full by my father) in 7 weeks time, that we may need to cancel if we have no transport for our family of 6.
It is just so out of my control, I can barley function.
The strain that the DWP is under must be immense, and I understand that, but once again there is a total failure to see that the process is fundamentally flawed. It isn’t working efficiently to get the right help to the right people. The forms need an overhaul. There is a lot of work to be done on the assessment process. Ultimately more people should get the right help, but the journey to get there is extremely traumatic, and costly in time, emotion, and money.
I can do nothing.
I shall keep waiting, mentally preparing myself for war. Going over the case, and my notes, trying to work out a plan for every eventuality.
I’ll keep waiting, but I won’t hold my breath anymore.
A decision will arrive, when it arrives. I can’t remain on ‘pause’ for another 5 weeks. I will do what I can to extend my car time, prepare my case, and put in place my safety net, but then I need to let it go. I simply can’t live like this any longer. I need my hope and positivity back, I realise that now. Once again the journey I am on, documenting this process, has been a kind of therapy. I find myself much clearer for articulating my thoughts, even if it is in my usual rambling, irate and undirected way.
You must always have hope.
What’s the point of it all otherwise?