The Chosen Ones.

[catherinem]

Yesterday, I was feeling quite up and positive, however yesterday evening I received a call from my Aunty, the gist of the call was that my Mum is ill in hospital, she has pneumonia, I’ve tried to get I touch with my dad (no answer) and my brother who also lives in Llanelli (no answer either). This is worrying, my mother isn’t the strongest person, and in fact she’s quite frail. I would, when either my brother or dad get back to me go down to Llanelli, but for those living off benefits going to see your mum when she’s ill in hospital is a luxury that the state thinks that you can do without. I’m not one to ask for handouts for train fares or lifts down to Llanelli as I like to be seen as self-sufficient and more often than not the people who show such generosity are those who can’t afford it themselves. I do wish I could see my mum more often, but again, from the point of view of the DWP your family are only there when they want an excuse not to help (visiting your mum when she’s ill is not a viable reason to have a crisis loan, yet having a mum, regardless of where she lives is reason NOT to allow a crisis loan).

Also, today I am still riddled with endometriosis pain, after several days it does get you down, I have been pushing myself through it also, I had a haircut on Monday (£6 there’s another blog post emerging from that) not even the cocodamol has been able to give me relief. In the past many painkiller have been tried, Tramadol, Naproxen, Diclofenac Sodium some worked with some dodgy side-effects, others haven’t even touched the sides. If I did go to my GP all that she’d do is give me a VERY painful internal examination and poke my belly and tell what I know already – go home and take some painkillers. Last night coupled with the worry about my mum, I was crying in pain.

Another reason accounting for my dark mood is that I have been becoming increasingly jealous of “the chosen ones”, I know of course that I shouldn’t covet my neighbour’s goods (or in this case job) I go places I see people with JOBS, I look in the windows of temping agencies and I see people with JOBS inside, although advertised in the window where job descriptions would be written on postcards and arranged close together, they are now written on sheets on A4 paper sparsely arranged. I have been toying with the idea of dressing up as though I would be fired by Sir Alan Sugar and take my CV around various temping agencies, also I would have a similarly attired non-ticcer friend with their CV also going into the same agencies and comparing the reactions we get. It seems very sad envying those in minimum wage job, they have been chosen, they amongst many have applied for a job, their application form was CHOSEN, they had an interview and they were CHOSEN. Be it working on the till at Wilkinson or shelf-filling in Tesco, they have a reason to get up, they have been CHOSEN, they have colleagues, they have a purpose, they have been CHOSEN to fulfill that purpose. I have no purpose; I tic so therefore I am not chosen. Even when Pertemps were trying to find me work experience, there were organizations that didn’t want me; they didn’t want to even meet me, “A lovely lady …..With Tourette’s” The Tourette’s syndrome out trumped my positive attributes. Even with the Jobcentre’s policy of advertising some positions as “interview guaranteed” when they call up to arrange an interview for me they find that the position has now been “filled”. Again Tourette’s syndrome has out-trumped my skills and experience – and that’s for mopping floors and hovering. Hopefully if I do get a job cleaning somehow I can incorporate the skills that I acquired whilst at uni.