Sick NOT scrounging! #WOWpetition

I have been asked by the organizers of the 'WOW' campaign to write a piece on why I personally support the WOW petition. You will find details about the campaign just below my own little ramble. Please do sign it only takes a moment and your signature could be the one that makes all the difference!


So here friends in short are my reasons for supporting the WOW petition.

My child and I are both disabled. We didn't ask to be or want to be a burden on society but we are! There is no choice, either we take the handouts that so many believe us unworthy of or we are unable to survive! 

If under the new benefit reforms the powers that be decide that we no longer (in their opinion) qualify for benefits we will STILL be disabled! We will STILL need my husbands full time care. I would STILL be unable to go out alone or care for my daughter alone! The ONLY difference such a decision would make is that we would have nothing to live on!

My daughter was born disabled, she will always be disabled, she will always need support from another person to survive, she will always have to rely on welfare, she will not be able to navigate the system alone! I fear for her future!

I feel terrified of the benefits system and I am fearfully obsessed at what they will throw at disabled people next. Aside from fearing for my own family I feel deeply concerned by the impact that cuts to welfare and services are having on other sick and disabled people.

I fear the dreaded DWP letter every day, the sound of the post man fiddling with our letter box in his efforts to deliver our post puts me in a state of panic which continues to have a negative affect on me long after my husband has checked and reassured me that today is not the day that I will have to begin AGAIN the process of proving how disabled I am! 

Its a constant and overwhelming fear. 

A letter could come tomorrow, next week, next year but one thing is certain, IT WILL COME and as the process first time round has made me extremely unwell (now physically as well as mentally) I'm not sure I would survive the process second time round!

Fear of the Government, the media and the benefit system, fear of being judged by those in society who have no understanding of invisible illness/disability and are taken in by the 'scrounger' rhetoric have led to a dramatic and terrifying increase in my symptoms and have caused additional disorders that were not there prior to this combined attack against welfare recipients! 

Over the past year as a direct result I have developed a serious Eating disorder (self starvation) I'm awaiting tests to determine if the pain in my bones and joints is the onset of osteoporosis bought on by my eating disorder. My hair is falling out through stress and lack of nourishment and my existing mental health issues which have troubled me since childhood and were already extremely debilitating have been greatly exacerbated!     
 
In addition to the fear of the next ESA assessment there is also the fear of the PIP assessments which all disabled people will have to endure when the process of replacing DLA begins. 

Before this cruel campaign against the most vulnerable people in society, I was just about managing with huge restriction and controls in place to cope! My husband was managing to get through most days with a smile on his face and our daughter was the centre of our world.
 
Today my husband and I just about manage existence and our daughter who has complex care needs is caught up in the middle wondering why mummy doesn't play anymore and daddy doesn't smile!

Please continue reading to find out more about the WOW campaign.

Spearheaded by Actress/comedienne 'Francesca Martinez' WOW petition is NEW and INCLUSIVE 

 

Francesca Martinez discussing Welfare Reform on This Week

 

On Tuesday 18th December, disabled and sick people, people with learning and mental health difficulties, their families and carers launched a petition calling for an end to the War on Welfare being waged by their own government.

The Welfare budget, and particularly benefits going to sick and disabled people, has been heavily and unfairly targeted for cuts. It is said we can no longer afford the current welfare state. In reality however, as a percentage of GDP, the welfare budget is now lower than it was at any time during the eighties. While at the same time the combined wealth of Britain's 1,000 richest people increased by almost 5% to over £414bn.

In order to resist the government's cruel and failing welfare policies, sick and disabled people, together with their carers, families and friends, have combined using social media to produce the #WOWpetition. This calls for an end to the War on Welfare. Spearheaded by actress and comedian Francesca Martinez the WOW petition aims to get 100,000 signatures to end this War on welfare by the Government.  We will be calling for a Cumulative Impact Assessment, an independent inquiry and if necessary, the repeal of the Welfare Reform Act of 2012.

We believe that every single person in the country has a reason to resist the War on Welfare. Some of us may be fortunate enough not to need the safety net our Welfare State provides, but this could all change for any one of us, tomorrow. It only takes an accident or a shock diagnosis to render us ill or disabled, and dependent on a system of benefits and services which is currently being dismantled.

The 'Greatest Generation' fought WWII believing they had secured this safety net for themselves, their children and generations to come. Don't let it go without a fight! We owe it to them. We owe it to ourselves to ensure a decent and dignified life for all who are sick and disabled, and to provide security for all our futures. The deaths of disabled people linked to the Welfare Reform Act and the Work Capability Assessment administered on behalf of the Government by the private corporation Atos are reported in the press with alarming regularity. We believe that in any humane society the Government would want to know if one of their flagship policies was in any way responsible for a 'slow genocide' of the sick and disabled. Please join Francesca Martinez and the WOW campaign in resisting the deaths and unnecessary suffering being caused: Sign the
document on the government’s e-petitions website
 
For more information you can click on one of the links below:
 
www.wowpetition.com
Twitter @WOWpetition & @WOWpetitionchat
Facebook WOWpetition 

The WOW Petition Forum

 

Thank you for taking the time to visit my blog, I will finish as I always do on a pray and a positive thought.

 

POSITIVE THOUGHT

Over 52,000 people have already signed the WOWpetition. For the first time in a long time I feel hopeful.  

 

PRAYER

Lord, Please bless all those who are sick, disabled and afraid for their future. I pray for all those who care enough to fight alongside them for their right to live with dignity and security. Amen 

 

Thank you for allowing me to share.

 

God bless you and all those you love

 

Kimmie x

'The never ending story'

When my eldest four children were small they watched a film called ‘The never ending Story’ They loved it. At one point our living room was filled with the magic of this film on almost a daily basis. They went on to enjoy the sequels and one of the sequels (I can’t remember which) was based on a little boys memories. His memories were in the possession of an evil character and held inside little transparent balls in a large clear container.

Let me try and get to the point.

I guess if it were possible to view all of my own childhood memories in such a way it would be far easier for me to sort out the wheat from the chaff so to speak. I might sort the little clear ‘memory balls’ and discard all of the less desirable one’s for instance.

I had a difficult childhood, my mother suffered with mental illness and was often emotionally unstable and aggressive towards me.
Of - course there were good days, inbetween the outbursts mum tried very hard, she wasn’t evil, she was ill. I accept that she was unwell and while I am still uncomfortable in her presence I do forgive her.

I struggle to remember cuddles, kisses and ‘I love you’s’ from my mum, they are there somewhere in my subconscious, but they are buried under all of the things that caused me to fear her. 

When I look back to my childhood I remember - the sting of a dirty blue ‘flip flop’ as it slapped with full force against the top of my leg - the smell of her tobacco tainted spit as she screamed obscenities at me, her face so close to mine that our noses almost touched - the taste of ‘Palmolive soap’ which she used on more than one occasion to wash my ‘dirty’ mouth out - the perfect imprint of her hand red and raised on my skin - the disorientation and pain that comes after being slapped full force by adult hand around the side of the head!

I remember cowering at the bottom of the stairs in the hallway with my face pressed painfully against the little table that housed the old fashioned telephone anticipating the next blow, which I knew by the rage still spitting from my mothers lips was on it‘s way!

I remember the day that I took a biscuit without asking and she almost broke my little finger. I remember my own fear and pain, and also her fear and panic as it dawned on her that she may have gone too far.

Now let me fast forward to my own children and a day that I will never forget.

My second son ‘Charlie’ is two years old and though I don’t know it yet he has ADHD, he will not be formerly diagnosed until he is eight years old, ‘Danny’ my first son is almost four and my first daughter ‘squeak’ is still a babe in arms.

We have just returned home from a trip to the park, I usher the boys into the house and wheel the babies pram into the living room, in the time it takes me to do this and promise the screaming ‘squeak’ that a boob is on it’s way, all hell has broken loose in the kitchen!

Let me try and paint the scene - ’Squeak’ is screaming so hard that she may well explode at any minute, in response to her wailing half a gallon of breast milk is forming a river to my belly button, ’Danny’ is pulling at my trouser leg whilst whinging “I’m hungry” and ’Charlie’ Oh God, where’s ’Charlie’!

At the sound of breaking glass I run with ’Danny’ still clinging and ’Squeak’ who is now in my arms, still screaming in the direction of the kitchen, where I find ’Charlie’ stood at the open fridge door with an egg in his hand.

Now ’Charlie’ has a plan for the egg, Oh yes, the glint in his eyes, the smile that is spread across his chubby little mug, and of - course the three or four gloopy yellow blobs that are already floating in a pool of milk and glass at his feet, leaves me in no doubt! 

Action stations!....
I Yell “Don’t move you‘ll cut yourself” to ’Charlie’- disentangle ‘Danny’ and shove him in the general direction of the television, and reunite the alien that is ‘Squeak’ with her pram.
Back in the kitchen, I carefully lift ‘devil child’ out of glassy danger and stand him still clutching the egg over by the back door.

I’m calm as I lay tea towels and cloths over the river of gloop and glass which is fast making it’s way underneath the fridge, I’m calm as I carefully begin to pick up the million pieces of milk bottle glass and place then one by one into a dustpan, and I’m calm as I explain to ‘Charlie’ that he is a very naughty boy!

THEN.. ‘Charlie’ begins to laugh causing me to look away from gloopy floor and over towards the back door....and there, sunny side up at his feet, is the last straw!

Something inside me snaps, before either he or I can do anything about it I am upon him, I grab him, and screaming into his face just as my mother used to do to me I thrust him back towards the back door....I have no words for the rage that is coursing through my body!

And then (almost loud enough to be audible) a voice inside my head screams 'STOP' and before his back touches the door, before any harm has been done, my senses are alerted to the fact that the bottom half of the door is made of glass, and that the cheeky glint in my child's eyes has been replaced by shock and fear!

Mid thrust I pull my beautiful, cheeky, exasperating son back towards me and into my arms, and I hold him there amidst the chaos until we both stop sobbing.

I carry him into the living room and sit him in front of the T.V next to his still hungry brother, stick a dummy in ‘Squeaks’ mouth with another promise that milk is on the way.... and phone ‘social Services’….

A social worker was with me within twenty minutes that day and did not as I feared threaten to take my children from me. Instead, she encouraged me and assured me that mothers who are likely to hurt their children do not call social services and ask for their children to be taken to a safe place.

I was offered a lot of support after the events of that day and accepted it all gratefully, I decided on a no smacking rule, and since that day have never raised a hand to my kids.

Very quickly, because I realize I have rambled a bit today, I would like to touch on something that happened yesterday, the inspiration for this blog

I screamed - I mean, I really screamed! My youngest daughter who has physical and mental disabilities had been mind blowingly difficult (not her fault) we were late for Church, I hadn’t slept, my head was pounding, and ‘Littlie’ who was by now strapped into her wheelchair began screaming - AGAIN!

With no warning at all I began to scream, the piercing sound that came out of my mouth shocked both me and her, and reduced ‘The Bodyguard’ (who has more than enough to deal with) to tears!

I was and still am mortified that I would behave in such a way in front of my child and feel so ashamed that I lost control, but it's what happened afterward that brings me back to the beginning of this post and my ramblings about ’memory balls’.

I am desperate that despite my mental illness my children’s good memories will outweigh their bad and that they will NOT be damaged by their mother as I was by mine!

So hopefully.. the things that ’Littlie’ will hold in yesterdays ’memory ball’ will NOT be ’mummy sat on the dinning room floor screaming like a mad woman, but will instead be replaced with.. making paper angels with mummy - arranging little houses on the snow scene under the tree with mummy and snuggles on the settee with mummy while watching a Christmas movie. I do hope so.

POSITIVE THOUGHT
Good, better, best, I’ll never let it rest until my good is better and my better is my best.

PRAYER
LORD, Thank you for the little voice in my head that told me to ‘STOP’ that day in 1989’ and for all the days since that I have managed (despite mental illness) to build happy memories for my children.
Please forgive me any moments in their lives where my illness has had a negative affect on their day. Amen

Thank you for allowing me to share

GOD bless you and all those you love

Kimmie x                                            

'And I know he always will love me'

A few months ago I bumped into an old school friend, not just any old friend, a loyal, funny and well remembered old friend.  Despite losing touch after leaving school I would often find myself looking back on my school years and remembering with a smile my skinny, scatty friend who without realizing had made my teenage years far more bearable than they might otherwise have been!.
‘Tammy’ and I had a lot in common (back in the day we would probably have been likened to each other because of our scatty natures!)

Anyway back to the here and now. ‘Tammy’ is still a bit scatty, as am I, only these days we have something else in common, our spiritual beliefs. Whilst walking separately through all the twists and turns and up’s and downs of adulthood we have both managed to find GOD along the way’

Things have been especially tough over the past year or so, my mental health issues have been exacerbated greatly for one reason and another, reasons for the sake of sanity I will not go into right now. (I’m having a relatively good day and would like to keep it that way!)

‘Tammy’ though slightly more resilient than me and way more positive has also had a very difficult time of late, I won’t go into the reasons for this, it isn’t necessary and wouldn’t be fair!

At this point in my ramble I feel it relevant to point out that due to  severe ‘intrusive thoughts’ a symptom of OCD I have found it almost impossible to engage with GOD through prayer for some time now. Prayers are so often interrupted by the muddle that is my mind that far from bringing peace they just result in my feeling ashamed and on edge.

Feeling so isolated is perhaps one of the most devastating consequences of my mental illness.
Fear, shame, paranoia and stigma have resulted in a life time of hiding and I find it almost impossible to open up to anyone with complete honesty.

When the same shame and fear interferes with my ability to talk to GOD isolation reaches a whole new level!

Recently I have really struggled with my relationship with GOD mainly because my  prayers are so often interrupted by intrusive thoughts, obscenities or general mind muddle!
Asking GOD to forgive intrusive thoughts (thoughts of or urges to self harm - thoughts of harming others) can be really difficult when you are unable to promise that your thoughts or indeed behaviour will be any different the following day!

Here’s what often happens during my prayers - I begin to pray (lets give the Lords prayer as an example)
It goes a bit like this, ‘Our father who art in heaven’ hallowed be’ that’s usually about as far as I get before a random obscenity pops into my head (sometimes aimed at GOD which only serves to increase shame!) or any of the other random, awful intrusions that are a part of my every day life. (I’m experiencing them now as I write!)

In order to complete my prayers (which I rarely manage having given up in shame half way through!) I use another area of my mind to recite ‘Ten green bottles'
So now one part of my mind is reciting ’ten green bottles (not sure why it should be this song as I find it extremely irritating!)  while another part of my mind continues with the ‘Lords prayer’ sometimes this is still not sufficient to suppress intrusive thoughts and images and on these occasions I resort to actually picturing each of my illusory green bottles as they fall off the wall!

You can imagine how mentally draining for me this complicated prayer time fiasco is and it gets worse if I come away from the ‘lords prayer and attempt to pray in my own words for something or someone specific I have usually given up in despair before the fourth bottle has hit the ground.

My inability to engage with GOD through prayer has left me feeling stranded. I have thought of myself as ‘BAD’ since early childhood (partly as a result of my mothers reactions to me and partly as a result of the symptoms of my mental illness, specifically the vile intrusive thoughts)

Of - course if you don’t believe in GOD you may have buggered off by now, eye’s raised and 'tut tutting' at the 'Mentally ill bible basher’ but for those of you who are still with me, there is a point to this story!….

That dreary August morning whilst browsing the internet I came across a picture that instantly made me think of ‘Tammy’, ‘A white feather’ accompanied by a spiritual message! 
Now I've never noticed white feathers at my feet, of course they may have been there, I just never noticed! ’Tammy on the other hand often has and on a spiritual level they are very significant to her!

Well anyway until learning recently (and only because I googled it!) I had no idea that to some believers white feathers have spiritual significance. I sent the picture along with its message of hope to ‘Tammy’s’ face book wall. She liked, commented then buggered off, as you do if you’ve actually got a life aside from Twitter and Facebook!

I spent the morning at home then decided that as the weather was a bit hit and miss, an indoor picnic in the church would be a nice idea.
As ‘Thebodyguard’ is church warden he has keys to our Church and we can come and go as we please. ’Littlie’ who loves being in Church could chill out with some churchy music with daddy while I set about sorting the mound of jumble on the balcony!

We would generally walk to church via our own Street but as we needed to call in at the shop on the corner of ‘Paupers Street’ on this occasion we made our way via ‘Paupers’ street, ’Littlie chatting nineteen to the dozen, ’Thebodyguard’ in his own little world and me? Well I’ve had better days!

Anyway we were about five feet into ‘Paupers Street’ when I noticed a ‘white feather’ laying on the ground, I’m not sure why I noticed it neither am I sure as to why I felt the need to photograph it but I did and on we went.

We plodded on another twenty steps or so and there on the ground another ‘white feather’ prompting me to take another picture, I couldn’t help thinking of the shared message that morning and my friends frequent tales of GODS little co-incidences in her life!

To cut a long street short by the time we had reached the top of Paupers’ I had noticed and photographed four little white feathers and was filled with a warmth that in my opinion can only be described as GODLEY!

As we turned into the next Road heading for the front entrance of the church a thought entered my mind, it was a strong feeling accompanied by an image (“There’s a feather at the Church door”) Well there was! Right there outside the church door blown carelessly against one of the planters was a fifth white feather!

I photographed it and then filled with an overwhelming feeling of peace  followed hubby and child into the church. we laid our blankets down and enjoyed our little indoor picnic while listening to beautiful music and soaking in the peaceful atmosphere!

After eating I set about sorting jumble items while ’littlie and ’Thebodyguard’ played. Suddenly I felt compelled to stop what I was doing and go and look in the porch that serves as the back entrance to the church, so strong was the feeling of ‘seek and you will find’ that I was disappointed to find that there was no little white feather jumping out at me when I stepped into the porch. 

Feeling slightly silly I’d just turned to go back the way I came when out of the corner of my eye I noticed a tiny white feather laying up against the boiler room door almost completely covered by dry leaves. It was no bigger than my thumb nail and looking a bit worse for wear but a feather none the less. I brushed the leaves aside, pressed the zoom button on my camera and took my sixth feather photo of the day!

Some of you will understand exactly what was going on in ’Paupers Street that day, many of you will think I’m a bit mad, if you didn’t already. It matters not!  I feel lifted and hopeful when I look back to that day and I choose to thank GOD for that.

PRAYER
LORD, Thank you for gentle reminders of your presence in my life. I will continue to write my prayers down for the time being if that's okay with you, minus 'The ten green bottles' of course!

Father I place into your hands the things I'm going through
Father I place into your hands the things I cannot do
Father I place into your hands my friends and family
And I know you always will love me, Amen

POSITIVE THOUGHT
Good days, bad days or somewhere in the middle I'm surrounded by friends, family and a GOD who loves me!

Thank you for allowing me to share

GOD bless you and all those you love

Kimmie x                                                     

                                                                            Copyright©2012kimmie All Rights Reserved

Before you go can I ask you to take a look at the WOW petition below? Please sign to help WOW fight Government cuts to Disability services and benefits! Thankyou x

Please join Francesca Martinez and the WOW campaign in resisting the deaths and unnecessary suffering being caused: Sign the
document on the government’s e-petitions website
 
For more information you can click on one of the links below:
 
www.wowpetition.com
Twitter @WOWpetition & @WOWpetitionchat
Facebook WOWpetition 

The WOW Petition Forum

SADNESS IN THE MIRROR!

I tried to write last night and the night before that, in fact I have attempted putting pen to paper ( or in my case, fingers to keyboard)  almost every night this week!

So friends tonight I shall write in brief about all the things that I have wanted to write about and my reasons for not being able to write about any of them.

With the media full of child abuse stories I have desperately wanted to write about my own experiences as a child. However I have felt unable to do so for the following reasons.

People are so distressed by the horrors they are hearing about on the news that I feel the last thing they need are more tales of abuse. I was mentally and physically abused as a child but never sexually abused and therefore cannot begin to understand the pain those children felt, though I do empathize.

These stories have affected me terribly and have had me reflecting more than usual on my own childhood. However I have been unable to write down my own experiences for fear of somehow playing down the horrors that these people faced as children which were clearly far worse that anything  I ever had to endure!

I have wanted to write about my depression, anxiety and insomnia all of which have been exacerbated over the last year or so due to fear of Government attacks on disabled people.

I feel overwhelmed with worry not just for myself but also for the thousands of other mentally and physically disabled who are being persecuted, some of whom since joining Twitter I now call friend.
I care about them as a friend should care and it hurts me to know that they are suffering.

I feel powerless to help them or my own family. Fear of our future and campaigning for a secure future for all has taken over my life and serves only to make me sicker as I’m sure is the case for many. 

I have wanted to write about the Eating disorder I am now struggling with (also a direct result of fearing the powers that be!)
However while this new addition to my already complex mental health issues  frightens the life out of me I simply cannot find any sensible reason for starving myself half to death when I have five children who need me to be strong and ALIVE!
Anything I try to write with regard to this just adds to the guilt I feel at not being able to put my children first.

This week has been a low as low can be kinda week, my depression which never really goes away has been overwhelming.
It would so many times this week have been cathartic to write about how dark and despairing my days have been but I have found myself unable to for fear of dragging everyone else down with me.

I’m not sure how to inject humor or enjoyable reading into ‘Depression. Is there a way of explaining why I cry alone in my room while hubby, child and dog play excitedly together downstairs.

Does anyone really want to hear about how hard it is for me to refrain from taking my secret weapon (a pair of hair scissors) from my dressing table drawer while all the time knowing the relief the blades would bring.

If a book you were reading painted the scene of a miserable, sobbing middle aged woman staring hopelessly at her reflection in the bedroom mirror would you now be flicking the page enthusiastically desperate to get to the next paragraph!  I doubt it and who could blame you.

Nether the less as this blog is now turning out to be rather cathartic I will pretend you are all still with me and carry on.

So there she is this pathetic self pitying creature slumped in front of her mirror, tears raining down her long haggard face. Her complexion is grey, the bags under her eyes would serve nicely for getting the food shop home on Friday and her once thick (though always slightly frizzy) hair has been falling out for weeks through lack of nourishment.

Truly I tell you the creature I describe is damned UGLY! In my opinion no one does crying beautifully but any beauty she might once have had has been well and truly stripped away by ’Anorexia’, insomnia and stress!

Through the rain she looks despairingly at her reflection, the expression in the eyes of her mirrored self is one of pleading, this woman is in such pain, unbearable overwhelming pain. Whispering now just loud enough for the sadness in the mirror to hear and careful not to the destroy the little bit of happy that is still going on downstairs she pleads out loud with the creature staring back at her. “Help me, Help me, Oh please help me, please help me” then as the expression in the eyes that she sees in the mirror switches from one of pain to anger she turns away and quietly opens the dressing table drawer....

Well considering the hours I have sat in front of my laptop this week unable to write a thing, I’m not too sure where that little lot came from!
I do feel slightly better though for throwing a bit of my muddled mind your way, so if you made it this far down without wanting to go and talk to your own reflection, Thank you.   

PRAYER

Lord, I pray for all victims of child abuse past and present, that they find peace and that justice be done. Amen.

POSITIVE THOUGHT

I managed to eat a bowl of raw vegetables tonight and my first appointment at the Eating Disorder clinic was no where near as bad as I anticipated.

Thank you for allowing me to share

GOD bless you and all those you love

Kimmie x                                                  Copyright©2012kimmie All Rights Reserved