What am I going to do from now on?

With great sadness, the process of applying for PIP has finally come to an end, as the  'lovely people" at the DWP have decided that I'm entitled to standard rate for the care component, and enhanced rate for mobility.

This is broadly as I was hoping for, so why the sadness, you may ask? Let me explain, just like everyone else who has a chronic illness, I too just sat on my bum with nothing to do or to occupy my mind, and so from the moment the "brown envelope" arrived, I was eager to begin the extremely joyful process of applying for PIP.

After being awarded DLA indefinitely, I was facing a life without any real stress or challenges. My care free life clearly needed something to consentrate on, and so  pip finally gave me , the  opportunity to stretch myself.

I've heard that some people have found the process quite stressful, but for me, having only multiple health issues including MS, heart problems and a stroke to worry about.,the tiny extra stress caused by the process, and the possibility of losing money or my car, leaving me housebound, was a small price to pay for the excitement and thrill  I felt during the phone calls, form filling, evidence collecting, face to face assessment, and waiting eagerly for the decision.

I would like to thank the DWP, Capita, and the Government, for giving me this enthralling experience. I don't know how I'm going to fill my days from now on. I really hope I'm still here in 2022, so that I can go through it all again.

IN HOMAGE TO STARDUST

From nowhere to oblivion
And living what's between
With nature's grace allowed to walk
On mysterious paths
To learn from what's been seen

Ignoring that gift far too long
Was blind to its wonder
Content to waste what was given
Watched the clock not the time
Till all pulled asunder

When misfortune threatens to steal
All beauty from that life
Choose the choices to be taken
Care for that selection
When lessening the strife

Countless were all the elements
Gathered in just one place
So unique was that creation
Insult that endowment
When despair shows its face

How difficult is the resolve
when fate has come to call
Must moult away that which impairs
The awe in existence
To even  live at all

WHIRLPOOL

I walked an unsuspicious path for many carefree years, with certain expectations for where I was heading, until the Moirai plunged me into a swirling torrent of illness and emotions. Here inside the turbulent churning muddy water, I can no longer see the green of the bank, and knowing that to walk again in the warmth of the sunshine resides only in my memory. Tumbling and rolling without direction, I desperately struggle to swim against the eddies that only pull me down further into the blackened depths of this whirlpool.

I can just make out the muffled sounds of those passing by, and watching my plight from the safety of solid ground. So many different comments: the sympathetic, who pity me; the unsympathetic; who think I'm not trying enough to get out; the religious, who tell me to pray; the grateful, that it's not them; the stupid, who tell me to put on a brave face; the indifferent, who don't give a shit; and of course the hateful, who are hoping I will drown; and a few who actually try and help. While the authorities tell me they will only provide aid, if I can prove that I'm really in difficulty, but most can never understand what it's really like to experience such life changing events.

That feeling of helplessness, knowing that how ever hard you swim, you're only temporarily treading water at best, against an inevitable tide that will eventually engulf you, was for me extremely difficult to cope with. Trying to convince myself that the fight is worth the effort, has never been far from my thoughts, especially when those spirits of fate throw rocks of further misfortune at me, whenever I can hold my head briefly above water, and can take a breath.

Accepting the reality of my situation intellectually was simple, the fact that I will continue to sink is self evident. Emotionally however, has been a very different matter. shaking off my anger, sadness, worries for what may come next, and memories of when my feet strode out solidly over the ground, has proven to be very hard indeed. I have been far too concerned with what I perceive as the unfairness of my situation, instead of the actuality of it. I will always be pissed off with the fates, for what has happened, but that should, and never stop me from doing my very best not to be totally overcome by the enormity of what is,, and what could come.

With every stroke I make becoming ever more difficult, keeping my mind clear so that I can see the best way forward is essential, if I am not to be pulled down increasingly more quickly to the waiting rocks below, and that means that I must fully accept that, dreaming of what has gone, and what could have been, will not pull me ashore. All I can do is to face whatever comes with fortitude by focusing all my efforts intellectually, physically, and emotionally into swimming as hard as I can, grab onto any lifebelt, branch, or rope thrown to me, and use any piece of flotsam and jetsam I find inside this spinning vortex, to help keep myself afloat as long as my mind and body will allow

YESTERDAY'S MAN

There's a man who was born when my health began to worsen, and who exists only in my memory, intent on constantly reminding me of what has gone, and whether he is a friend or a foe is becoming more and more difficult to tell. I certainly feel comfortable whenever I visit this man of my yesteryears, because he takes me back to places where I felt safe and worry free.

There is of cause nothing wrong with revisiting the past, so long as it is not used as a comfort blanket to shield me from the present realities of my life, and that's the problem with this old friend of mine. It can be far too easy for me to hide away, lost in the " good old days", instead of facing that reality, which often seem too difficult to cope with. Trying to find solace in what no longer exists, shows me nothing new, and does not add anything to my understanding.

Just like anyone who feels threatened, this past version of myself, has done his best to keep himself alive, by showing me just how happy he used to be, and how bad everything is for me right now, and he has been the architect of much of my sense of loss, sadness, and anger. This is of cause a complete false impression, the past was never actually as good as he claimed it was, and the present not nearly as bad as I often think.

I must now re examine the relationship I have with this old friend. I can not, nor want to completely let him go, but I have to choose what role I want him to play in my future. Do I want him to continue to influence my thoughts, emotions, and actions, or do I want him to be simply a fond memory?

STRING THEORY

Just like a trippy shadow play, warped visions rushed to my mind, of a past that never really existed, and of times ahead, that may, or may never actually happen. Coloured lies designed by a coloured mind, to deliberately confuse an already altered truth. What were fond recognitions and expectations, became weapons cutting at the heart of my present and future with an overexaggerated sense of loss.

Desperately I tried, without success, to see the author of this emotional creation, hidden behind a wall of sadness, disappointment, and anger. The fear of what I might find beyond, keeping me in a constant state of impotence, until in one single stroke, I saw clearly through to the marionette of illness I had become, a character in a puppet play, reading from a script I had no control over, led by the strings of a disease, I had allowed to become heavy chains holding me back.

I cannot server the ties that bind me to illness, but I must recognise, and believe, that I am the master not the slave, l must grab onto and firmly hold those strings in both hands, if I am to have any control over how and where they may pull me.

I will no longer allow my mind to use the frustration I feel about the limitations of the props, or where the plot may be heading, to stop me from taking my part in the drama, as fully as I am able.

DIVORCE?

MS, you and I have been together for many years now, but lately our relationship has become very strained and increasingly difficult. I know my anger towards you hasn't helped the situation, but you have to understand that my anger is purely a natural reaction to the terrible things you have done to me.

When we first got together we seemed to get on OK, but it wasn't long before you started to be controlling. It's now gotten so bad, that I can hardly make a move without your say so.

You won't let me work, taking away my financial independence, or let me go outside on my own, cutting me off from my family and friends. I'm not allowed to cook anymore or clean the house, you are with me when I shower, and use the toilet. You even influence when I go bed, and get up. As for the injuries caused by your physical attacks, these have been debilitating, and there are no signs that they will stop, in fact I believe that they will, not only continue, but will only get worse.

A marriage is supposed to be based on give and take, but all I see in this partnership, is that you have taken so much from me, but given nothing. All you've done is cause me pain, and taken away any hope I had in the future, and in living a normal life. I want the life I had before I knew you back. I want to feel once again the freedom I had before you stifled my independent spirit. In short, I would really like a divorce.

If only it were that easy? To employ some supernatural lawyer, or arbiter who could divorce us from life's problems, but like it or not there isn't. Those of us who are living with an incurable illness, are paired with it , "for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part". All we can do is learn to accept it, and find ways how we can best live with it.