Back in May we had a general election. Much to my utter horror England elected a Conservative majority party - how?! Many years ago Margaret Thatcher started this country on the path of "me, me, greed, greed, me, me". David Cameron's government is taking it all to a higher level. He and his grinning millionaire minions are stamping so hard on the disadvantaged but their voices aren't heard loud enough or wide enough because the vast majority of the press are on the side of the ruling elite - after all, they are very rich and don't give a shit about anyone other than themselves.
Next week George Osborne, our Chancellor (who can't balance his cheque book or understand the rules of claiming expenses) will launch his "emergency" budget. Now that the truth of the country's massive debt is trickling out, he'll refuse to go after company tax dodgers (oh, he'll say the words but he won't actually do it) and put more screws onto those who can least afford to shoulder the crap. He's already done away with a key piece of funding for disabled people - and yet the rallying cry is "we look after the most disadvantaged in society" - aye, look after them so well we kill them. What kind of government kills off its own people? Well, there's an answer to that and, unfortunately, too many in England can't see it/refuse to see it/don't give a shit because at the moment "I'm alright Jack".
It scares me. It really scares me. I struggled for 4 years with debilitating chronic illness and trying to work full time, paying my taxes. Fortunately I had a wonderful line manager and section head who supported me, the only reason I lasted 4 years. Then the government change the goal posts - you'd think it would be an easy life being chronically ill and not working. The Government think so. I'm not able to work full time any more but I couldn't live on a part-time wage (who can?). At the moment I'm lucky, I get Carers Allowance and Income Support in order to provide a minimum of 35 hours a week care to Mum. Dad falls into the care bracket too now but he's not recognised by the State either because he still manages to get around & look after (mostly) his personal care needs. That being said I get £105 a week. Try living on that, it's easier than £71 a week but it's not as easy as £400 a week, which is roughly what I was earning at work.
Next week I fully anticipate the taxes on fuel to rise (despite a pre-election promise not to) - after all we only pay 80% tax on a litre of fuel. That's another wee rant - the change in fuel measurement from gallon down to litre. After all, the public would never have accepted £5 a gallon charge on fuel but they will accept £1.24 + a litre. That's £5.46 a gallon 1 gallon = 4.4 litres - but the man in the street doesn't know this, so he/she grumbles but pays up. Who rakes in the money? The government, because 80% of that amount is tax of one kind or another.
Anyway, so, yeah, I am scared shitless of what that bunch of conservative bastards will do next. At the moment the only reason I survive is because Mum and Dad are very generous and supportive, and they can only be that way because they worked very hard for a long time.
Then there's the pain - in addition to the background 24/7 muscle & joint pain. I can't recall mentioning my broken heel - in 2013,while walking across a car park heading to the local hospital to visit Mum I managed to break my heel. Shards of bone subsequently embedded themselves in the base of my Achilles tendon, the site of a lovely lump. After months of tooing & frowing with medics and podiatrists I was referred to a surgeon - who told me that given my age I should just get used to the fact that things will go wrong & I need to learn to live with it (I kid you not). I eventually got a "boot" which helped but I can no longer wear the "boot" because the restriction in blood supply sets off my cellulitis (whohoo!). Anyway, so, there I am, hobbling round a supermarket when rrrriiiiiippppp - white hot, blinding pain. The bone fragments in my heel have moved, shifted, f*******g agony. I have a new ridge on the lump - a pointy ridge. Makes wearing shoes impossible. Makes walking incredibly painful. Makes stairs even harder (especially as my "good" thigh is now ripping and tearing).
And yet, as I sat before my computer this morning and feeling panic, fear and desperation welling up like my own personal tsunami,I had to remind myself, over and over and over - I can actually deal with whatever happens next. I may not like it, I may not enjoy it and it may cause incredible hardship but I can handle it. I'm a unicorn farting rainbows, I can handle just about anything (and I will keep telling myself that, one day I might believe it).
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