Today, my job as a mum, was much like the metaphor I’ve chosen to explain it…………like jumping through hoops of fire. My daughter, through many complex reasons, has been homeless for almost a year(even though she could live with me, her dad, her grand parents and a whole host of other people) and has been living any where from squats to sofa surfing. On Saturday, when she reached the lowest point I had ever seen her in, she called me. Thirty minutes later, she was in my car and on the way home with me. She’s asked for help and told me everything. All I could do was listen.
Today, the ring master doused the hoop in petrol and held a lit match to it, and I jumped through it over and over again. I’m a bit singed but I’ve lived to tell the tale. First of all, we had to get through to Directgov. After 40 minutes of answering the same question we completed an application of Employment support Allowance(not that she’ll definitely get it!) We then had to open a bank account for her. Now bear in mind that DD has twelve pieces of metal in her face, a mowhawk and dreds and the bank looked us up and down as if she were crap and I were the crap peddler and did everything to get us out of the bank as soon as possible. They fumed when we had all the right ID and they still managed to spend ages on the phone to passport office whilst they verified who she was. Reluctantly, they gave her the paperwork to sign and now she ‘exists’ and has a bank account.
Hoop number three awaited us at the doctor’s surgery. Now bear in mind (there’s a lot of bearing in this email) that she has been treated for clinical depression for three years and is chemically dependent on stuff that would give Amy Winehouse a headache and; they offered counselling and a repeat prescription. They also treated her in a manner that surprised me, she was a nuisance and they didn’t hide it. I asked, at what point would there be a referral to a clinical psychologist and they told me when they referred it and not before. So, go and see a counsellor, let that fail and still drink three litres of white lightening a day along with anything else you can get,and when you’re pissing yourself in a police cell, then and only then, after you’ve gone on the game to get the ketamine, we might give you some support with your mental health problems! The next time you see an alcoholic, urine stained wino slumped outside Marks and Spencer’s, then she may have well have asked for help and may have been packed on her way with a repeat prescription of anti-depressants and a cheery ‘We’ll see you in a fortnight!”
Any way, enough of the slight irritation! After she sobbed to the doctor’s surgery and home again (she did warn me that they always treat her with indifference and seeing it for myself almost reduced me to tears!). The rest of the day improved. She cooked dinner with me, we talked and she helped me fold laundry.
I’m hoping she’ll stay at home for much longer than usual, that she’ll take the counselling and turn up for it, that she’ll get the benefits she’s legally entitled to and we’ll find her somewhere permanent to live. I was thinking today, of the lovely readers who left me comments about their partners not being frugal, of their partner’s waste of money and the struggles they have to convince other family members that the frugal route will save them all in the long run. I’m sorry folks, you won’t be able to change them. You can do what you can, where you are, with what you have. You can’t influence the outcomes of the lives of others, even if they are family, even if you lead them the right way or even if you have any influence. It doesn’t stop you from jumping through hoops, even if it feels futile, you do what you have to do. People are hard work; love them any way!
Until tomorrow, Froogs xxxx