Once again, I’m unable to feed my kids. They are having noodle cups. I’m having broth. Can’t keep much down.
I’m not looking for sympathy. I’m just documenting what life is like below the line.
Where you qualify for assistance, but there isn’t enough funding to go round and there is no funding available in your area.
The inn is full…
Where that assistance isn’t assessed on a needs basis, but a first come first served basis. But if you move to a different area, you are also punished and made to wait a mandatroy six month period before you can even apply for assistance. Because taking the huge decision to move to a new area, and the expense, and the emotional upheaval isn’t enough. You have to be punished because you are trying to gain financial assistance. You bad person you.
Well, yeah. If people who have part time jobs can get assistance (cleaners, gardeners, home ammendments), why do I miss out? I can’t walk more than 50m and I can’t make dinner for my kids. Lucky they’re not little kids anymore. Cos too bad if they went hungry. Because there’s no funding. Other people got there first. And it doesn’t matter if they have healed, or have a lesser need now, that is irrelevant and they are on the system, and I am off.
Because lets face it, that’s cheaper to administer and it’s not actually about helping people, is it? It’s about appearing to help people and remaining within the budget.
And so you’re sad for yourself and your kids but you’re damn well going to thrive in spite of it. And you know there’s a fight to take on, and in your previous life, you would have taken on this fight and kicked someone’s effing butt. And done it well. Because once you were healthy and strong and smart and actually cared a lot about people. And helping them.
But now you’re sick,and you can’t string three words together coherently, let along state your case in an effective and compassion inspiring way, or even think where to start to advocate and effect change. Because your brain doesn’t work the way it used to. And its a dog eat dog world, and there are bigger and smarter dogs now. And none of the puppies I helped back in the day remember me anymore.
And I’m reduced to very poor analogies or metphors or whatever they’re called. And none of it is helping anyone.
This is just the reality.
Thank the gods for noodle cups