Sunday 13 May 2012

Weasle Words

Got my letter today and the form, but only after a very weasely phone call. What with all this stuff about "may affect your benefits" - you must fill in this form or it "may affect your benefits". What they mean is FILL IN THE THIS FORM OR WE'LL CUT OFF YOUR BENEFIT. Why don't they just come out and say it?

And what are they still saying 'You may be asked to come to an assessment"? It's fucking government policy that every single person receiving welfare because of illness will have to attend an assessment, so why fudge it and make it sound like an option. It's just bullshit.

Is it just them being English do you suppose? Fucking irritating. No one who has listened to the news in the last two years can misunderstand the intention of the govt, so why are they making it seem otherwise on the official forms?

OK, yes, I'm, freaking out. But wtf? Actually I'm terrified. I was looking forward to celebrating my 10th anniversary of arriving in Blighty, but it's going to be right in the middle of this process.

Meantime I have a molar in its death throes giving me agony when anything under about 15C touches is; plus swollen and tender gum around the root. So no room-temp food in the morning for instance. Dentist says he might be able to save it by replacing the filling, which over the years has grown to cover about half the tooth. So we're having a long drill in two weeks, and will have to see what happens. A root canal is next option.

And the current set of MEBs seem particular bent on driving me mad. I'm tired all the time and can't just pop out to the shops, so I asked them to not eat the white bread that I need to eat because of my hiatus hernia, and to either eat the brown bread that one of the other MEBs make, or to buy some more bread. But will they help me out on this? Will they fuck. I'm sitting here starving. Wondering what to do. I put 4 sweetners in my tea instead of 2 and it's undrinkable. It's four flights of stairs back down to the kitchen which is beginning to seem like a marathon each time I have to attempt it.

I've been having a lot of dark thoughts lately. Like I'd be better off dead. I actually don't think it would make much difference to most people, and my house mates would probably not notice for a week or two, and then I doubt they'd really care. One less irritation in their lives.

I get quite angry when I'm depressed. It's a thing apparently. Something that happens especially to men. I'm angry about having lost control of my life, right down to the white bread situation. I fucking hate white bread, but I need to eat easily digestible food that won't sit in my stomach and cause acid reflux. I'm fucked and waiting for it all to be over, but the humiliations never seem to end. And I'm powerless to do anything about them.