I find myself in an extraordinary situation. The Personal Independence Payment (PIP) forms have arrived and my head is full of the silent sound of synaptic klaxon’s going off, screaming, ‘Danger, danger!’
To achieve this monumental task requires throwing any semblance of independence out of the window and to be compliant to a system that I know is entirely corrupt, brutal and, above all, is a source of the most absolute distress.
It is an existential crisis which involves walking into a vipers nest of skull fuckers and I know better than that. Except… in or out, I don’t know if I can survive this and it feels like a lose, lose situation in which my mental and physical health, which is what it is all about, are on the line and right now both are in really bad shape.
Internally it feels like a state of collapse in which I am hanging on by my finger tips, my guts hurt, my body is shaking, my eyes are burning and the pressure is beating down like a steam hammer.
It is a situation in which doing nothing is itself a choice which guarantees losing the support which they control. On that basis, I can end this just by writing to them and telling them to fuck off and accepting the consequences, which will mean accepting financial hardship which I do not know if I can manage or survive.
The other choice, which feels even worse, is to engage in a process in which I know my GP does not support me, getting reports from my therapist and the hospital who I know do, and filling in their filthy forms with forced attention to every minutia of detail in a system in which the stated purpose is, as the Independent reported (13 December 2012), ‘More than 300,000 disabled people will have their benefits cut when Disability Living Allowance is replaced by a new benefit, Esther McVey, the minister for disabled people, announced today’. Before a single assessment had been made McVey was telling parliament and us that the express purpose of PIP (the new benefit) was to cull the number of disabled people getting support and that was in just the initial stages of assessing 560,000 claimants, the reality of the roll out of PIP is even worse.
Worse still, this is all now being resided over by a prime minister with pitiless lizard eyes and a heart as black as the bottom most pits of hell, for whom lying is her native tongue and is corrupt to her bones.
And I am not even exaggerating.
PIP isn’t happening in a vacuum, its happening in the context of the worst government in UK history who laugh and jeer at the hardship they cause and give not one shit for the thousands of deaths they are already entirely responsible for causing.
I have to make a decision but am incapable of separating myself from the vileness of the current regime enough to do anything other than write this horrific shit out. I could cuss till my spleen turns blue and still not get the vileness out of my blood and bones.
My dearest friend Eileen has just sent me Harry Leslie Smith’s book, ‘Don’t Let My Past Be Your Future’, I haven’t read a word of it yet but I know it’s going to be soul food and that’s what I want to be in and doing with my time and energy, that’s where my heart is. That is what I WANT, not pulled between different degrees of badness where there is no balance and I’m just begging at the table of bastards who mean me (us) harm.
If this sounds remotely self pitying, I guess I am going to have to own that, it fills me with sorrow, this world that they have created which I oppose with every atom of my being.