The PIP forms have almost broken me down.
Shattering my psyche into tiny squared-off questions after years spent building myself up again has been incredibly difficult.
I’ve taken over a week off work; I’ve been virtually alone for eight days now. Apart from the cat and her various friends.
And that’s pretty tragic?
I watched the film ‘Wild’ two days ago, and although I haven’t trekked the Pacific Crest Trail for hundreds of miles, I did so in my mind.
When I’m upset, I hibernate, preferring to look my worst in the mirror and not to the outside world.
It’s a bit like a pity-party for one (and a half). It’s torturous.
Today – day 9 – I went to a short MS Society meeting less than two miles from my house. Safe.
Long story short, the support I had was amazing but people wondered where the real me had gone. Probably still on my sofa wondering how to dispose of the latest dead mouse outside my door and how best to fill in my PIP forms.
The real me?
All the PIP drama is akin to the employment tribunal of 2012; he said, they said, you’re lying. Analyse every single tiny little thing.
As someone said to me in the meeting today, yes, I am better than that, no matter the outcome.
Is the real me in there somewhere?
There’s definitely the old me, bubbling somewhere under the surface, but until the very real financial predicaments are put to bed, I may very well be the grumpy aunt at the Christmas festivities.
Don’t get me wrong, I love Christmas and all the promise it offers. It’s a magical time, and perhaps that is why I am praying for a miracle?