The sound of the clattering letterbox. The plop of the envelope on the doormat. I venture timidly and apprehensively down the stairs. There it is in all it’s glory. The brown envelope. Portent of doom. It’s hardly ever good news is it?
A rush of coldness grips my insides. What now? Yes, it’s that letter inside that spells the bad news. Dear Mr Brooks, we inform you that your benefit payments have stopped…….All the worst fears confirmed.
Cut adrift……cast into the wilderness. We’ve stopped your payments, now you’re up shit creek without a paddle. My heart sinks, and then the anger and resentment begin. Why me? Why is this happening? And the anger has not subsided.
Last night, I felt thoroughly exhausted and drained with the events of the last week. Yes, I’d got the paperwork and the letter done. Yes, I felt good for doing that. But at 8 pm last night, I felt desolate, I felt afraid, I felt fearful. My existence has been damaged. This will take some time to recover from, if I ever do at all.
Why am I talking and thinking like this? Because there is a real and present danger that all the heartache and pain from 2007-2012 will be replicated. Who knows how this will turn out? The glorious uncertainties of life. The flame of justice and fight is still burning, just. When will it all end?