An evening of tears, a morning of tears, hundreds of phone calls, calls from a friend expressing increased concern. The violence of these abusive systems pushed onto those with least resilience. She’s struggling, the whole community has taken up the slack, as it’s done for months, years, the community that can no longer contain.
She just needs to know what will happen now. I don’t have any answers, explain the system from the little I know, get together the important papers.
I’ve spent the time until now writing letters. Ordering the replacement birth certificate that’s another £19 odd oh and the new shirt that’s needed for tomorrow, how do people manage who have no reserves.
Flagging up to the homelessness prevention team at the council, sending them the proof I’ve got. You know the same people who didn’t support me in the work I was doing. The same council who thought they were doing fine, enabled by others who didn’t see the importance of what I was doing.
Do I sound at all angry? Because I am. How’s the holistic assessment going?
She’s been let down from day 1. Everyone is implicated, including me. Just as her partner was let down.
I’m so fucking angry. You don’t like my tone?
Finally today a call from adult social care. She’s being allocated tomorrow. They promise that I’ll receive a call.
Oh ok just the next 24hrs of tears to get through until they tell me she doesn’t fit the fucking criteria? What then? Back to the round and round?
If you know the criteria is unsafe, discriminatory what have you done? As I said we are all implicated in this. I told anyone who would listen, sought out those who didn’t particularly want to hear. It didn’t make any difference. Because as I’ve said before, some voices matter and some don’t. Did I mention we’re in Clacton. The end of the line.
Hard to escape that discrimination. The discrimination that results in us not being listened to unless someone else can confirm what we say is true. That discrimination around mental health, unrealistic expectations of function when bereaved without any thoughts to who there is to support.
Did I mention I saw the people I used to support? I told them, I haven’t shut up. Still going on. They told me to look after myself, appreciative of my voice as they waited for service to open yesterday. Get the sandwich.
And the thing I noticed? How two people are now using mobility aids, both with beards longer, one person looking like they’ve lost a lot of weight. I wonder how that works where they live. Maybe it’s different now. Those gaps filled?
Another phone call. Sounds ok, you wouldn’t know there is anything wrong and that is how it goes. Helps to sustain the lack of adequate support.
Oh well it’s only my time. Nothing that is valued.