Not funny but real.
I feel like I’m constantly complaining and moaning so I want to take this opportunity to just put down in 1s and 0s what is the matter with me. Why everything is fucked up. Why I’m technically homeless and why I can’t get out of it. I hope to shine a light on the true shit of this all the people who believe living on benefits is a walk in the park and that they’d like to be paid for lying about in bed all day. Last of all, I’m shouting out a “help”. I’ve hit a brick wall and have no idea where to move to next.
THE BEGINNING.
I was born with a condition called Congenital Hip dysplasia. It’s commonly known in babies as Clicky Hips. It’s checked for regularly and treated at birth. It essentially means that the hips aren’t in their sockets properly and if not corrected, will cause deformed hips.
The condition, for some reason, wasn’t spotted in me until I was seventeen years old, following an x-ray when I fell off a skateboard. Since then I’ve had so much treatment and work done on them. The problem is that the hip sockets are far too shallow for the actual ball-part of the joint and all the upper body weight is resting on the tiniest pieces of bone. The muscles and tendons are all thrown out of whack. I’ve had four different operations on them, one involving having the corner of my pelvis cut out and repositioned, resulting in two years of learning to walk again. I’ve had over a decade of physiotherapy to help me cope with this condition along with steroid injections into the gaps of the joint, hydrotherapy, acupuncture to no avail. I’ll never be able to carry a baby to full term naturally due to this condition.
It’s slowly got worse over the years. I’ve been taking some sort of opioid painkiller daily for twelve years but the constant, chronic pain is still there and essentially untreatable. I can’t remember the last time I had a proper night’s sleep.
I was working constantly until this summer just gone. The pain from this condition finally got bad enough for me to be signed off full-time, as has been expected for a long time.
I currently claim Employment Support Allowance at a rate of £67 per week. I am signed off by a doctor and am still trying to exist on the same rate as someone who simply isn’t working (hopefully) temporarily. I’m in the process of applying for Living Support Allowance but it’s apparently not looking hopeful that I’ll be entitled to it, for reasons unknown/un-understood by me, but I shall keep going.
I have been ‘lodging’ with a friend’s family for three years. I pay a very small amount for a lovely room in Zone 2. Unfortunately, since not being able to work, I can’t afford it. It’s a situation not entitled to housing benefit so I sadly started looking for somewhere new to live, and looking into getting Housing Benefit again. (eta: a lot of people suggesting ways to claim for this address, but unfortunately, for reasons I cannot go into in what is turning out to be a really well read post, it is absolutely not an option. Thank you all for your advice on this though.)
I claimed HB (Housing Benefit) one time before for a house I lived in in Leicester. It was following an operation and I had been living there two years already, paying rent while working until I was signed off sick (same condition) and it was so simple to get the HB changed over and any back rent paid-up.
Here is where I’m in the shit. The basic crux of the problem is:
I cannot claim Housing Benefit without having a lease.
I cannot get a lease without already having proof of Housing Benefit being paid to me. (Never mind applying for a Social Loan to pay any kind of deposit.)
Rock/hard place/stick up the arse. From September 2010, I have been looking all around the area, and London in general, for somewhere to rent. Most places won’t touch a HB tenant with a barge pole with an extending stick stuck on the end. Fair enough. It’s a ball-ache and every case is different and I can understand their reticence. If you do find a private landlord willing to take you on…you must already be able to show them that you are entitled to/claiming housing benefit and that you have rent and a month’s deposit up front. About a grand. Remember when I said my income is £67 p/w? And remember when I said the social won’t give me HB, or even proof that HB is entitled to me (which it most definitely is) until I can show them a signed contract, be living in the property and claim in arrears? The amount of times I’ve smashed my own head off the desk at the social office in frustration at this Catch 22 is through the roof. (I can’t smash anyone else’s head against the desk. They hide behind a perspex partition. For good reason I can see now.)
In October 2010, I applied to my local council housing department (Hammersmith and Fulham) for assistance with this situation. First question I’m asked: ‘Are you pregnant or do you have a child’? Apparently I’d be instantly entitled to help if I fitted into either of these categories. Thanks for rubbing in that I can’t have kids guyz. I made my application, was interrogated on multiple occasions, feeling like a cheat/fraud (following a half hour walk on crutches each way) and sat and waited. The application process was delayed because the doctor at the housing department had never heard of my condition. Because it’s not on a list they have, it’s not considered ‘serious enough for assistance’. Never mind that I’ve only met two other people in my entire life with the condition, and one of those was at the Royal Orthopaedic Hospital. My (wonderful) GP sent them another letter, outlining my condition and how it limits me and also the affect this entire situation has had on my pre-existing mental illness. It took three months altogether for them to say ‘Nah’. Their ruling was that my condition doesn’t stop me looking for a flat. True. It doesn’t. I’ve found hundreds of flat I could live in BUT NO ONE WILL LEASE TO ME. Head:wall doesn’t do my frustration justice.
Oh by the way, all through this time I’ve had to pay rent on the place I’m staying at. All my savings and inheritance and a tax rebate…every penny I ever had spare, gone. Now I’m staying unpaid versus sofa hopping. At this very moment (15th February) I haven’t received a benefit payment for three weeks due to a mess up at the benefits office with my sick note. I have 68p in the bank (which I can’t physically access as I can’t walk there due to pain). The cupboards are bare. I haven’t had a cigarette in 2 days and I haven’t spoken to a human being in eight days.
I’m all out of ideas. I’m constantly applying to charities/housing associations etc for assistance/support/anything to no avail. It’s a pretty unknown condition so Bruce Forsyth hasn’t set up a charity for me and I’m fucking stuck. I’m exhausted, broke, hungry, dying for a fag and I feel ike nothing. I feel like the lowest piece of shit on the shoe of society and I’m sad.
So…help?
Has anybody got any ideas? Any suggestions. Dont’ suggest the CAB. Everyone does that and you know what, I went there six months ago, and they told me what I’ve told you already. And Shelter. I need real, hardcore shit now. I really need to be out of here in two weeks. I can see that not happening. Just any ideas? email me at roxannelawin@gmail.com
ps…I was recommended to apply a black women’s refuge by the council after they turned me down for emergency housing but they rejected me. For being a white woman. Thanks H&F council 🙂
ETA: I’ve spoken to the social today regarding my immediate no cash situation and the only response I get is to apply for a crisis loan. The only way to apply is on a free phone number. Up to an hour and a half stood in a phone box as I don’t have access to a landline. Then it’s a 50 minute walk each way (I’m on crutches) to the benefits issuing centre as ‘broke’ means ‘do not have bus fare’. Then when I arrive, I will no be issued any giro in my name as I don’t have valid ID. My passport is out of date. If I can’t afford bus fare, what’s the likelihood I can afford to leave the country and have the need for an in date passport? So yeah. I’m hungry.
ANOTHER ETA
Lots of people asking for my PayPal number to put some pennies in the fund. I don’t like begging but I do like fags. roxanneLaWin@gmail.com
No more than a quid each. I’ll hit you otherwise
Xx
Also, great-rack. 