It's No Good Being Cross

30th July 2012

It’s no good being cross when my husband does things that drive me mad.

Like buying the wrong Felix cat food which I know the pussy cat won’t eat.

Like drinking wine on a Monday when he said he wouldn’t.

Like offering his glass to me again and again when I’ve said no. 

Like putting the wet smelly black bin bags down on the mat so I have to scrub it.

Like asking the question What am I here for? and never expecting an answer.

Like giving up on himself when I know he’s still bright and creative and capable.

It doesn’t work to be cross because he already feels so bad about himself it’s like pouring acid into his wounded heart. It just hurts both of us.

This evening we wait for two hours for our lovely CAB advisor to arrive with the letter she’s written for the Tribunal next week so we can send it off in time. When she doesn’t come or answer her phone I worry something has happened.

We give up and have last night’s supper re-heated with pak choi and courgettes and watch  two programmes back to back about the government’s attempts to get people off benefits and back to work by using independent medical assessors. The system has gone mad. People with severe physical and mental conditions are considered fit for work, appeal against it and win and then are re-assessed a few months later as still fit for work.

My husband would like to work. It seems they don’t want to know what you can’t do but only what you can. And he can do lots of things. Except  gain access all the words in his head which connect him to the world and give his life brightness.......