Following up from my post about playing the system which wasn’t the post it was intended to be but it got a lot of support, so thank you. But now I shall give you the intended post, hopefully without going off on a tangent!
Apologies for rambling, being repetitive and sounding like a crazy person but, y’know, I am…
When I told people about the situation as it stands I got a lot of support and a lot of suggestions. People seem to know that system is rubbish and would rather see someone who needs help play the system than have to watch them suffer, I suppose that is something to be thankful for even though they are things that I could never do. Many people have suggested I just outright lie; exaggerate my condition, lay it on thick for doctors and lie on forms. That’s what the people who don’t need help do and they get to live cushy lives with no money worries. But I can’t do it. I just can’t bring myself to lie because that means I don’t deserve help. If I lie then I’m just as bad as all those benefit thieves and I don’t want that, I’m better than that whether the government can see it or not.
Another suggestions was to get pregnant! Now, much as I’d love to have a child, I couldn’t do that either. Firstly I wouldn’t be able to just go and sleep with a stranger, and secondly I wouldn’t want to bring a child into the world knowing it was just for cash. Of course, if I did have fewer morals and was happy to put myself about and bang anything with a pulse then I’d already be being put up in a nice flat with a big TV and living off the state. Fair? I think not.
I despair of a system that condones lying and punishes honesty. I wish I could stoop to their level but I can’t, I’m not that person and I don’t want to be. I’m honest and trustworthy and I damn well try my best at life so why does that mean I don’t deserve help?
I have good days sometimes, but as soon as I tell someone that they think that means I’m fine. By a “good day” I mean a day when I don’t want to throw myself in front of a truck. When they ask about my poor sleeping and I tell them that I still get up in the mornings they think that there’s no problem, they don’t ask whether I feel so tired that I hallucinate because that is irrelevant to them. I spent 4 hours in the garden yesterday and I felt good, I felt happy, and then I came crashing down as if I’d been on drugs or something. I paid for 4 hours of happiness with tears and sadness that hurt so much it was physical pain. 4 hours. FOUR.
How hard is it to understand mental health issues? Maybe it’s just because I’ve lived them that I understand how much they affect peoples lives. Sure, maybe we don’t hobble when we walk or need painkillers, but that doesn’t mean that these diseases aren’t serious. These diseases kill and if they understood the reality of MH problems we wouldn’t have to make the choice of whether to lie or suffer.