I’ve met someone. It feels really weird.
I was asked out on a date by one of my Facebook friends who I hadn’t met before. I decided I didn’t have anything to lose and went. I hadn’t laughed so much in ages. The short version is that we’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months now. I know that crosses over with ending it with Chris but our relationship is too complicated to say I was cheating. He also knew I’d met up with Tom.
I’ve clearly been severely damaged by Chris. I hate that so much. I’m perpetually frightened about this new chap cheating on me and I’m constantly suspicious. I’m rather overweight at the moment and I can’t believe he finds me attractive. In the last 15 years I have yoyoed repeatedly, losing and gaining the same 8 stone in a never ending cycle. Chris has always been vile to me over my weight. I’m far too shy to ask Tom if we are now an item as the fear of rejection is overwhelming. I do my very best to keep this all in my head.
I am actually quite happy at the moment. Not having someone constantly pick at me is refreshing.
We had a row tonight. We haven’t had that many lately, so it was a bit out of the blue.
We were at a out of town shopping centre and after it closed, we got something to eat and started to drive home. Helpfully, they’d closed the bit of road I needed and hadn’t put up any diversion signs. I finally got going where I was going but I was tired and a bit under the weather and really didn’t need a 50 minute scrabble and diversion so we ended up picking at each other. The picking turned to fighting.
I’m aware that he’s not at his best either but sometimes these discussions just happen. In the six and a bit years I’ve known him, he has always threatened to leave. He means in a going missing kind of way. He asked me if I could cope with that better now. I started to cry and said that he was being stupid and that would never be ok. I said I would always look for him and it would never stop. I said it was a horrible, selfish, hurtful thing to do and it didn’t matter when, it would always be that. My mum’s first husband vanished and she still wonders, nearly 50 years later, what happened to him.
This disappearing thing is always his go to place. It’s always upset me and it feels like this threat being lorded over me. It’s one of the main reasons we broke up in the beginning. I couldn’t feel safe and secure knowing he just might go if he felt like it. I think you need to have some security in a relationship and he didn’t ever provide me with a single shred. My mum thinks it’s hot air and he’s just sounding off. It’s so hurtful and deeply distressing and it’s hard for me see past that. He says he’d tell me he was safe but that isn’t acceptable. I’ve known suicide but I haven’t had anyone just leave so I don’t know if they are similar but I expect so.
I keep telling him that he has to take himself with him, if he left. He wouldn’t suddenly stop being bipolar if he moved and changed his name. He wouldn’t miraculously be able to hold down a job or have a girlfriend. He said his biggest regret is that I know the real him. He said he wished that we’d never got close and that’s why he wants to leave. He wouldn’t then have our friendship anymore. That’s such an extremely hurtful thing to say. I’ve done everything I can to care and support him. I’ve loved him even when he’s cheated on me and always been there. It’s a shame he can’t be there for me in any way, ever.
I had my tribunal on Wednesday. I won. They will backdate the money they erroneously stole off me.
The joy was short lived. Chris got an ESA50 form on Friday. He is now panicking that the same thing is going to happen to him. I have explained that he has a lot of evidence and it’s a continuation of an existing benefit, not being transferred to a new one. Obviously I am worried but I don’t think that’s going to help so I’m keeping that under my hat.
In other news, he actually apologised for his behaviour in the supermarket car park. He remembered my tribunal was on Wednesday and sent me a message the night before. I’m really impressed he managed to do that.
Chris is jealous. There isn’t anything I can do about it.
Thirteen years ago, just before I became a student, I had the presence of mind to buy a flat. It was a shitty hole but it was mine. As the years have gone on, I’ve improved it. Nothing is original now to when I bought it. I’ve just had it valued and it’s tripled in price. He is angry with me because I bought and he didn’t. I only met him six years ago! I’m not quite sure what he expects me to do. He jokes about me being loaded. Of course, it isn’t real money. I am going to sell it, but I have to buy something else. I’m not suddenly going to be wealthy. I have to buy a place smaller than this so I’m actually downsizing. Still, that isn’t good enough.
We had a fight tonight, in a supermarket car park, about my flat. He stayed here once and didn’t look after it. I told him that I was now having to put right his damage but he wouldn’t accept any responsibility. He just went on about draughty windows and an erratic boiler, both of which have now been replaced. He stormed off and got a taxi home, despite me offering an olive branch and staying in the car park. He has sent me the obligatory vile text(s). I haven’t read them and have turned my phone off. Always having to have the last word, he took to Facebook. I replied asking if he really wanted to air this in public. He usually deletes my comments. This time he’s deleted me.
I don’t really get it. He has had significantly more money than me in his life. His family had money and mine didn’t. This has turned out, in the end, to be a good choice but for the six or seven years my flat was in negative equity, it didn’t feel like a good choice. When I ended up in court for not being able to pay my service charge, it didn’t feel like a positive. I couldn’t afford to live in it then and the rent I got didn’t cover the mortgage and service charge. Around the same time I was almost declared bankrupt. My mortgage provider decided to try and recall the loan, twice, and it felt like a fucking millstone then. I had so many suicidal thoughts. I ended up in a psychiatric hospital a couple of times.
Why can’t he just be supportive for once? Why can’t he be pleased for me that it’s actually worked out?
It seems we are both suffering a bit from paranoia.
He’s worrying about his migration to PIP, because mine has been fairly unpleasant. His DLA award doesn’t run out until mid 2017 so he’s starting nice and early. I’ve tried to be calm and point out that we will know more about the process once I’ve been through it. There is nothing to say his experience will be worse either. We don’t have the same issues. Being rational is futile. Sadly, rational is my natural position concerning other people. Obviously it doesn’t apply to me.
I’m suffering too because of the seemingly never ending women. I’m usually better equipped to handle it but, due to my enhanced, PIP related, issues, I’m not coping well at all. He can’t (or won’t) support me, which is really hard to take. Every withheld number on my mobile makes me jumpy. If I fulfill their unknown arbitrary stipulations then will they give me back the pittance I’ve been living on for seven years? I’ve been told I should be grateful for getting an award and that I shouldn’t appeal. Why not? It’s wrong. They are literally torturing me.
I ask you, how do the criminal fraudsters do it? Being genuine is enough to push you over the edge but knowing you’re lying? That’s some balls.
I was expecting a bumpy ride when my DLA award came to an end in December this year. I wasn’t expecting it to happen early. Luckily I was expecting to be fucked over and I have been.
I have been on DLA and Income Support for seven years, after suffering a catastrophic breakdown. I’ve had many interactions with the NHS and private practice in that time but I am still severely unwell. I have a host of mental health conditions which include PTSD and chronic insomnia. However, I knew having piles of letters from that entire time wouldn’t be good enough for an Atos assessor who met me for 35 minutes.
I got a letter in July telling me I was being transferred to PIP. I filled in the form and waited, knowing I’d be called for a WCA meeting. The first letter I got told me to go to London. I rang and said that was impossible and they “found” me an appointment in my home town. Dutifully I went, with my mother, and saw a very smiley woman. However nice she was, I still expected to be stabbed in the back. It’s a horrible feeling knowing someone is two faced but having to speak to them anyway.
I got my award letter yesterday. I scored 9 points for care and 4 points for mobility. I was on high rate care and low rate mobility for DLA and these points just give me standard rate care and no mobility. That means my award is about £50 a week less. It’s affected my Income Support by £16 a week. Also the rate at which mortgage interest payments were calculated has gone down. All added together, I am down about £350 a month. I’ve had more panic attacks in two days than the whole of last month and the suicidal thoughts are back.
I am grateful that I at least scored some points. Many people in my situation score nothing at all. I will appeal. To do so, I will have to get a copy of my report, which is something I really can’t face. I can’t bear to see what the assessor wrote about me. I don’t like thinking that someone has lied about me. My integrity is something the DWP have never taken from me and that’s something that will never change. I can’t bear that it’s been questioned like this.
Chris and I had a little chat tonight. These happen from time to time. He tends to change the subject fairly quickly and, depending on my mood, I either let him or not. I didn’t have to drag him back to topic though, which was unexpected.
I said I was concerned about another woman. That makes three in as many months. He said he wasn’t interested in her but they talk everyday and he flirts constantly with her. She knows I exist but that’s nearly always the case. It all sounds far too familiar to me. I said that the hardest thing for me was that it showed how unwell he was at this point in time. He tried to brush it off but I persisted. I also said that another woman, so soon after the last two, makes me feel rubbish. He said “but I come home to you.”
I’ll give him that. He’s right.