Dear Mr Cameron.

Dear Mr Cameron,

It’s been a long time coming, this letter to you.

The voting slips came in the post and I didn’t really know what to do.

Which box should I tick?

Do I close my eyes and just do it quick?

Or do I talk it through and deliberate for a time?

See Mr Cameron the decision is important to me,

My vote counts and I feel its about time you stand up and listen to the people who you just don’t see.

I understand there is no quick fix,

But did you have to pull the most vulnerable into this mix?

See it’s people like me Mr Cameron who are suffering the most.

Because its people like us who are least likely to boast.

A free car, a blue badge and undeserved money?

When in reality that is simply just not funny.

Mr Cameron Sir, have you ever been unable to work?

Have you sobbed so hard at something that does nothing but lurk?

Have you been told there is no cure and slowly your body will break down and fail?

That no matter how hard you try or scream or cry or shout you just can’t cope with something of such a massive scale.

Have you ever been told, Mr Cameron, that they just don’t know why?

Why you are where you are and how you can do nothing but cry.

Cry at the unknown life you and your family will face.

Cry that one day you will be a shell of who you are with your inevitable fall from grace.

Of course Mr Cameron I am talking about the changes to the benefits for the disabled.

The people who are just not physically abled,

To fill in your forms and attend the interviews to prove I am what I say I am.

Are you surprised in the lack of reapplications from the people of whom you don’t give a damn.

The people who struggle to get out of bed,

The people with that monster lurking in their head,

We already struggle to function each and every day

So why Mr Cameron do you make this the way?

Where we exhaust ourselves worrying about that money,

When our lives will forever be far from sunny.

Can’t you help us try and be all we can?

And do it from the moment this all began.

Because Mr Cameron we can’t take anymore.

We need help to survive, to get through the damn door.

So Mr Cameron If you want my vote,

Help the disabled, believe what I wrote.

Put yourself in my shoes and try and understand,

This is not at all what we all had planned.

Make the services and benefits fully accessible,

Because any more of this fight would be reprehensible.


So, We Meet Again?

These past few months have given me so much relief. Although still far from normal, I can function for that much longer and smile when I decide to.

But these last few weeks have seen the pain, and unforgiving tiredness creep back in. I felt like I was facing it for the first time all over again.

It’s amazing how something I have been through so many times can feel so unfamiliar. Thw worry comes back, and I found myself in pieces all over again. I was a vomiting mess in the bathroom crying into my husband asking him, why this has happened to me? Why was I the one living through this and what was, is the whole point in carrying on?

I have been here before, but this time the pain is so much stronger, the tears come far quicker and I just cannot grasp why anyone has to live like this.

I don’t feel brave.

I don’t feel inspirational. 

I don’t feel anything that’s fair?

I am so used to painting on a smile and just doing, that the days I cannot ‘do’ just hurt so much more.

It might not be the time of year people want to read, see or hear about all this, but that doesn’t matter to my disease. Because I don’t get time off from it just because it’s Christmas. 

It doesn’t care that I have a life to lead and children to give the magic of December to. 

It still is the relentless bastard it has always been, merry or not.

Today my head feels a little bit lighter, I am out of bed and aiming to carry on as normal. Because that is all I can do. That is all anyone like me can do. Try.