Hi Peeps. Well here it is, merry Christmas, everybody’s, ah. Hoping to survive it. Just wanting it to be over. Or is that just me and my select band of brothers and sisters?
It’s been reasonably painless so far, except that Christmas dinner last week with the Women’s Group. I felt so out of it. Usually I go to such events, dreading them but am then pleasantly surprised. This was the exception that proves the rule.
The application for a personal budget malarkey continues apace. My care coordinator continues to offer me no support whatsoever in filling in any of the forms where we have to make a case for what we want. I’m on my own with that, and it’s even worse than the dreaded DLA form which at least is familiar. God knows what hoops of fire lie in wait for us next year when DLA is abolished in favour of Personal Independence Payments. Carefully avoid any reference to disability, huh? That’s the way to go. Let’s patronise the f***ers instead. Squeeze ‘em till the pips squeak.
Gimme a job! Can it honestly be any harder than filling in these endless forms? I’ve a friend who bangs on endlessly about his fears of being stuck on Jobseekers instead of Employment Support Allowance. The amount of energy he puts into ranting and moaning about it could be better employed elsewhere, I can’t help thinking: maybe I’ve just got compassion fatigue. Who would give me a job though? It’s been twenty years. Have to get back to the drawing board with the old CV, but it’s hard to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.
I’ve been contemplating voluntary work again. It’s a bit overwhelming. I have to turn down so many opps, I begin to feel worthless after a while. There’s got to be something out there for me…
I have done zero Christmas shopping. Sent zero cards. Going to head out to the dreaded Wood Green tomorrow. Or preferably Muswell Hill if possible. It all seems slightly insane to me.
Love, and season’s greetings folks! xx