alexa the DWP putting the lives of disabled people at risk is so sad play despacito
(sorry, I couldn’t resist.)
as of 22nd June, have been denied any PIP (personal independence payment) by the dwp. It has been taken from me completely, despite me sitting for an hour and a half with their private company assessor (not a doctor) and describing every single aspect of my ailments and trauma in excruciating detail, and supplying a letter from my doctor declaring me categorically unfit for work.
I am physically disabled with ehlers danlos syndrome – a connective tissue disorder that causes agonising pain in all my joints and makes me prone to dislocating major ones at any given time (most recently my jaw).
I am also severely mentally ill. I have bipolar disorder, ptsd, and GAD (generalised anxiety disorder), which are a hellish combination. I’m prone to self harm in manic spells, pacing, panic attacks, and vivid abuse flashbacks that have made it impossible for me to work. It’s exhausting and I’m tired all the time. I suffer constantly from suicidal ideation, even medicated properly.
Anyone who follows me/has looked at my uk politics tag will know that it’s been a constant and frustrating struggle for me to even get my pittance, but losing my pip would mean I have just 200£ a month.
That’s to cover all my bills. My food, my phone, cat food, my rent, and most importantly my travel. My home is severely abusive. I leave the house at 6.30am and stay out until I’m nearly falling asleep with pain and exhaustion. I’ve been beaten before. My parents gaslight me constantly and are homophobic or ableist depending on what mood they’re in. They blame me for this, and will not help. Not even in the slightest way.
The prospect of struggling to be able to buy food is incredibly bad for my eating disorder too. I’ve tried so fucking hard to recover this past year, and something like this makes it so risky to relapse. I cannot survive on this little money, and I don’t say that lightly.
I am going to appeal, but that could take 6 weeks, and that’s the best case scenario. I’ve waited 12 weeks to even get the result of this assessment, and I do not have any money for however long this takes.
please, for the love of god, if you have any spare money that you can donate to help me, my paypal is tinykestrel@gmail.com
Even the smallest amount would help. If you can’t donate please please reblog.
Thank you so much, from my lesbian ass and miss agnez:
hey lads, I’m still not getting paid and I’m really scared, please reblog/donate if you can!!
In light of this “butch pal for the straight gal” nonsense please help this Actual Butch stay out of harm’s way!!
In exchange I can offer you tips on how to look just as tacky as me, a terrible drawing of a cat that is a lesbian, or other gay advice. I say this mostly as a joke but also I’m completely serious.
I haven’t heard a WORD since submitting my appeal 2 weeks ago, not even confirmation from them that they got it even though I knew full well they did (it was recorded post). I need money to live and to put aside enough to escape to a different country to be with my girl. obviously, that’s great news and I’m really happy about it, but in the meantime, I suffer ™
thank you to everyone who already donated – I’m emailing thanks individually but I’ve been really busy lately so I’m sorry if it takes a while!! thank you!
Force yourself not to give a fuck. Go for a short walk (no more than 15 min) to offset the feelings of oh no calories aaaaa and get a snack.
An unhealthy snack.
Yeah that’s right. A treat, bitch. A cookie, a cake, a big old sandwich. Something to throw yourself in at the deep end.
Don’t stare at yourself in the mirror beyond a quick 5 second check over of your outfit.
Stop caring about your clothes and how big or small they make you look. Make outfits by laying them out rather than putting them on your body.
Think of your body by means of what it can do rather than how it looks. You’re walking around and shit??? That’s great. Feel the breeze in your hair. Go out in the rain and listen to it fall against your umbrella and touch some plants and shit. You’re breathing and feeling stuff and your ed can’t take that.
Forgive yourself. I can’t emphasise that enough. Binging on food or having relapses doesn’t mean you’ve failed recovery. It’s less upward slope and more a wiggly slowly upwards line.
Take up a portable hobby. By that I mean something you can carry about in your backpack. A sketch book or knitting or a puzzle book. Make a point of doing it when you feel a bout of paranoia or Bad Feelings. Force yourself to concentrate really hard on it and not the intrusive thoughts.
But yeah, stop giving a fuck about your looks, your clothes. Work up to three meals a day. Treat yourself to delicious schnacks.
Wrestle your ed demons that take the form of vipers, and stamp on them as saints do, cast in plaster and crushed underfoot. Flatten them and be the saviour of yourself in your very own divine smiting.
i’m about to tell you the actual funniest thing i’ve ever heard.
i’m training to become a sign language interpreter, and today i asked my mentor about weird jobs she’s been on. like has there ever been one that when she left she was like “what the actual fuck just happened to me?” and i swear her soul transcended this plane of existence for a few minutes while she told me this story.
a few years back she and a colleague got an interpreting assignment from the agency that said “spice party”. so it was like a tupperware party where someone works for a company that sells a product, and they invite people into their home to show them the product and then the guests can place an order and buy the products and in this case it was spices.
they get there, and ring the doorbell. the host opens the door and tells them that the guests haven’t arrived yet but that they’re welcome to go into the other room to look at the products so they’ll know what will be discussed during the night.
so these two interpreters were like pfft spices?? lmao we don’t
need to look this up, there’s salt pepper and chilli like how hard can it
be. so they walk up to the door. open it. look into the room where this spice party is supposed to take place. and stop dead in their tracks.
flashback to when the interpreting agency got the order from the host of the party. apparently it said “it’s a party where they can order products from a company called something something spicy”. so this old little lady that handles the orders just thinks “hey, it says spicy, so that must mean spices right?” she rewords the order and sends it to the interpreters.
fun fact. that company did NOT sell spices. these two interpreters open the door expecting oregano or some shit and they get dildos. just. everywhere. dildos. lube. vibrators. condoms in 75 different sizes. it was a sex toy party.
the guests arrive. this is a small ass town. the interpreters know everybody at this party. throughout the night the guests can go into a private room with the host to place an order, and the interpreters have to come along because the host is the one who is deaf. to this day they see these people on the street and have to be like “hey :)” because it’s a small town, everyone knows everyone, and they have to say hi to people knowing that they have a two foot dildo and licorice flavoured lube at home.
anyway what i got from that story is that i picked the right profession.
It’s become such an issue in our local area the doctor’s office I go to asks it as routine now. “Have you been exposed to measles of whooping cough that you are aware of” at every visit. And if you can’t for certain say yes they hand your a mask. Which is basically anyone with kids or someone exposed to kids. It’s unreal.
Shit people, when I was a kid we got the mumps and measles and chicken pox and all that because there were no vaccines. (But no whooping cough, thank $Deity.) You know what else we had? Quarantine! Stay in your house and don’t come in contact with anyone else until you’re well again. It didn’t stop it but it did slow it down some.
Sure, my family came through with no permanent repercussions, but the parents all knew the risks. Every parent had heard about a kid who died, or went blind, or lost their hearing, or whatever. It scared the shit out of them. And when my baby sister came along and there were vaccines for all that stuff, she got every one there was.
And now we have parents who willingly put their kids at risk. Not only their kids, but everyone else around them! I can’t believe it! If you insist on bringing back preventable disease, bring back quarantine too.
Urocyon's Jaunts 2.0 
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