Brecht Your Bottom Dollar

Eleven pages. That’s how long my letter of dispute to the Department of Wank and Pensions stretches. Eleven pages intended to show them that their assessment process utterly failed to truly produce an accurate representation of the struggles I suffer with on a daily basis as a result of my health problems.

It’s taken weeks to write and edit, partly because I wanted the details to be exhaustive, partly because the exertion was emotionally exhausting and has been further fuelling the depression I’ve been experiencing for some time now. I have little hope that it will change anything: these people don’t actually give a shit about my life and my problems, they simply want to stop spending money on the disabled. After all, it’s my fault I’m a cripple, eh?

I hate this shit. I went to university as a mature student and gained a first class honours degree, was funded to achieve my Master’s distinction and was further deemed smart enough to warrant funding for my PhD. It was all heading towards me being a lecturer and making a meaningful contribution to society after all my years of self-indulgent music-making.

The last thing I needed or wanted was for that life to be derailed three years into my Doctoral research by my fucking health. The last decade has been completely unlike the life I had aspired to. Instead of earning a living teaching and writing on matters literary and theoretical I’ve had to watch the world go by while I deflate. The future from here looks even worse, especially as I have had so much of my Personal Independence Payment taken away from me.

Yet again I contemplate that while I have a social life filled with kind and compassionate people, society as a whole drifts further and further away from collective responsibility and commonwealth ideals. Soon the welfare state will have been dismantled and all those who don’t realise shit can happen to them out of the blue will be fucked it shit actually does happen to them out of the blue. Why we don’t take to the streets in open revolt against such obvious class warfare I simply cannot understand. This is gearing up to be the quietest and most complete class genocide the country has ever known.

The personal remains political, politics is always personal. I only hope others don’t have to suffer quite as intensely as I do before they realise the truth of this statement.


About S

“an extraordinary repository of cultural knowledge”
This entry was posted in academia, Culture, DWP, Finance, health, Life, mental health, Music, PIP, Politics and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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