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The Mouse That Roared
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8th Dec 2015

I had 3 hoursí sound sleep last night after two hours of tai chi and deep meditation. The Work Capability Assessment this morning had been very much on my mind.
I went for a walk at 4am to our local 24 hour shop. The fresh air felt so good, and one or two blackbirds were singing. It was beautiful. I bought a coffee and had a chat with the security guard about a particular singer of Islamic songs (I often listen to him as I do my tai chi). I learned something new.
I got back to the flat and I just wept. It felt good to cry, a release. I donít often show my emotions as it upsets my daughter to see me distressed. But itís all been too much. Just such a struggle this year. Todayís WC assessment (Iíve just noticed how that reads, gave me a chuckle lol) was the last major challenge. Iím praying for a time of peace and rest over Christmas. I donít have much money left after paying off all my debts and moving house because of the bedroom tax and lousy neighbours (I had to cash my pension fund in), but thereíll be me and my kids and we love each other. Maybe thatís what Christmas is about.
The assessment itself went as I expected. I knew the questions theyíd ask (pretty scripted and Iíve had 2 previous assessments and done some research) so I wrote answers down as part of my own ďrisk assessmentĒ evidence I did over the weekend to be used in the decision making process. I just said I was tired, stressed and had poor recall which was true.
I got an assessor who didnít answer my written query as to whether he had experience of assessing MH. (Thereís only 60 assessors done MH awareness across the whole of the UK, apparently.) Later in the assessment he did mention it should never have got to the point of needing a face-to-face. Maybe he learned something today. I hope so. Maybe my CPN learned something about me, too. I may appear fragile but years of suffering have made me quietly assertive. I wonít be walked all over or manipulated by anyone. I may be a mouse but I donít squeak, I roar. Quietly. I had to use every mental, physical and emotional resource, experience, discipline and skill I possess to get through it.
Iím left shaken and drained to the very core of my soul.
I did my best and my CPN got her message across. Itís a good job Iím not easily offended. Now, itís just a case of waiting for the decision, which the assessor said shouldnít be an issue. Support group. Now I need to get some serious rest before I have to prepare for my daughterís DLA to PIP assessment. I have no idea when that will be. It could be next week or next year. The fight goes on. It never ends. No respite. Apparently I have the type of bipolar that doesnít present with depression. Maybe thatís a blessing. Funny, it used to be called manic depression. I must just have manic. And itís traits of Emotionally Unstable PD now. My God, you couldnít make it up.
I didn't do it to prove anything to myself. I did it for my daughter as an example so she wouldn't be afraid if she has to go through it.
I hate this system with every cell in my body.
David Cameron et al, look at what you do to people.
Donít you think we suffer enough?
Iím no coward but your system scares me like nothing Iíve ever faced before. Believe me, I know the feeling of fear all too well, and I know cruelty and oppression when I see it. Iíve spent a lifetime with it.
You have nearly destroyed me with enforced poverty, debt, worry and stress.
And that was IN work. I couldnít earn enough to meet the bills working 3 jobs over 7 days flat out as a cleaner. Disabled rights? Equality? Human rights? I was treated like filth. In-work support? Crapulent. I lasted a few months before I burned out irreparably. It cost the taxpayer in excess of £90,000 to keep me in hospital for 9 weeks, not to mention the cost of drugs for the rest of my life.
So ďWork is good for mental healthĒ is it? Get a freakiní grip.
Lazy? Watch TV all day? I donít have one. I canít afford the licence.
And the distress caused to myself and my family by your stupid DLA/PIP and ATOS/Maxima (whatever) assessment process and all that goes with it has been indescribable.
By the heck, Iíd like to have 5 minutes in a room to reason with you.
Iíd give you a piece of my mind youíd never forget.
I can do that, you see, because your system has left my mind in pieces.
But I canít talk to you.
You lot are incommunicado.
Perhaps someone would be kind enough to pass a message on.
Then again, they might not want to repeat the language Iíd use.
You sicken me. Why? Not because of what Iíve been through today, but because my beautiful, gifted, talented, fragile and innocent daughter has to face the monster you have created.
And she only has me to help.
Oh, and sheís got a job. A relief dinner lady with the local Labour council. Sheís had no work since October 2014. She rang them 3 times offering to work. ďWeíll ring you when we need you.Ē And no training or support either. Sheís still on a contract, though. Is that because itís good for their disabled employee quota figures??
You disgust me.

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