Email I didn’t send

Hi Mom-

I know you probably won’t want to hear my problems, but I’m feeling quite down and just need to talk to someone, I guess. I hope you don’t mind to much.

The money problem has gotten out of hand. I submitted a new claim for my tax credits back in February, they won’t give you an update for 3 weeks, so after the 3 weeks went by, I called to see what was happening. They told me a letter had been sent out, and I’d have to wait to receive that, so I waited. A full seven days after it was posted, I received it. Apparently I had done something on the claim to indicate to them that Lizzy is not a real person, and they wanted her birth certificate and passport. So, I sent that off, even overnighted it to them. They got it over two weeks ago, and I called them every day for over a week trying to get an update, which they wouldn’t give me. I received her documents back on Saturday, but still no word on the benefit.

Of course, I was relying on this benefit to pay the rent last month, and when it didn’t come through, I couldn’t pay the rent. The landlord turned up two days after the rent was due and was a complete prick, demanding to know where *his* money was! I explained to him what the problem was and that I was sure it would be sorted out within the week, as this was the guidance given to John when he went into one of the walk in centers to ask. I was in full panic mode last week and called the land lords office and spoke to one of the ladies there, told her what the problem was and as far as I knew it was just a case of verifying my daughter was a real person and then putting the claim through, but that they would not tell me anything else. I also told her when my housing benefit payments come through and that I was expecting one imminently, and would forward it to the landlord bank account as soon as I received it. She agreed, and as luck would have it, the payment came through the next day, so I went straight over to their bank and deposited it into their account. I told her the second payment for April would be made when the next housing benefit payment came through (I get two a month), and that the whole of Marchs rent would be paid as soon as the tax credit thing went through. She agreed this would be ok. (I havent had any other problems paying the rent the entire two years we’ve lived here!)

What’s worse is that everyone keeps asking me what I’ve done with Marchs housing benefit money. “Well, thats supposed to pay your rent, not the tax credit!”, and acting like I’m drinking it or putting it in my arm or something. The housing benefit comes in as two separate payments, I pay the rent as one payment. All the money goes in from the various sources throughout the month and it all goes out again. Do they think I’ve got fecking jars sitting around labelled with what the various bits of money are for?!

Well, the damn landlord turned up again today! Practically barged his way into the house and shouted at me, with the kids in the front room, that if I didn’t pay him by the end of the week, I’d be out! I was furious, what a jerk!!!! I told him I felt that was incredibly harsh, given I’d lived here two years and hadn’t had this trouble before, that I’d explained to him and the secretary what was happening, and I was doing everything I could to sort it out and that I had just made an agreed payment to him not 4 days ago! After that he stopped acting like such an evil little jerk, bit he was still being awful “We’re a business, we’ve got mortgages to pay!” So, what- throwing my family out and making us homeless over this issue is going to get you where? You’ll have to pay to get a court order to evict us, then redecorate the house, clean the carpets, buy new appliances, plus put it on the market and get what? In this market, probably much less than what we are paying for it! How much are you going to be making off of it during that wait? What a jerk.

So, midnight has come and gone, all our money is gone and we are in the negatives again. Bank charges, groceries, etc. There wasn’t much there, anyway. If the tax credit money was going through today, it would have hit the account at midnight. (The tax credit money is about £1k a month, and is usually backdated three months, so if it ever comes through, it will be… very helpful) I’m so worried and scared and so out of options. John appealed losing his job and they are investigating, officially he is no longer with the company, but apparently he should be getting paid while the investigation is being completed. That would help, but no guarantee of anything. I just can’t believe it’s gotten to this point.

I feel like such a worthless individual. I’ve worked so hard, have tried so hard to do the right things and provide for my kids and I just can’t seem to get it right. Nothing is ever right, it’s like the story of my life. I feel like walking into the sea and just letting it swallow me. These children are better off without me, surely I’m just destroying their lives? I keep trying to have faith in the universe, and tell myself that it will provide, but… it’s not providing, or at least I can’t see it.

I know it’s all self pity and stupidity, but I don’t even care anymore.

As a last ditch effort to save us from becoming homeless I’ve decided I have no option left but to advertise myself as an escort. If I get any decent business, it would be cash in hand & help immensely. Tomorrow is my first official day, so hopefully the phone rings.

I’m sorry to lay this on you, I know it’s all dark and horrid. I just, can’t keep it bottled up, I keep bursting into tears all the time and just really attacking John with it, and he is so weak and fucked up already, he can’t deal with it. I can’t eat and can’t sleep and I’m so on edge and terribly impatient with the children. I just needed someone to talk to, someone I could be open and honest with.

Please don’t tell anyone about this, especially anyone in the family. Love you and hope you’re well, thanks for reading this.

Me

Taking matters into my own hands

When I was forced to leave my job last year because of my husbands insanely stupid actions, I turned to the public purse to help me support my children. That’s why it’s there isn’t it? I tried not to feel guilty, but never quite got there. I’ve been working full time since I was 14 year old, after all. Even though I knew I wasn’t wrong to accept welfare, that I’d paid my dues and my reasons were legitimate, I still felt like trash.

My husband moved out, I left my job and then the shit storm hit and it was bad, very very bad. I cried and ate and cried.  Eventually I had to start working on course work again, and I started painting the inside of my house and we got through it. Being here for my kids, day in and day out was the only way we could have gotten through it. They had constant love and support and their school work never suffered, their friendships never suffered, they continued with their after school activities and did wonderfully. I wish the same were true for me, but they were the ones who mattered the most.

In December the police investigation finished. My husband was cautioned and put on the register, but not charged with anything. Social Services gave us the all clear to bring him home, slowly but surely. I was relieved that all this was going to finally be over. Except it isn’t. The whole time I spent supporting the kids, and supporting my husband, who at one point was threatening suicide regularly, I never got the chance to support me. I became fat from comfort eating in an effort to simply push the feelings away and in my heart, resentful.  What I thought was going to be the end of the whole miserable affair, turned out to be just another chapter.

My husband lost his job. Then I had to reapply for some of my benefits. I made a mistake on the application and they flagged it, and requested I send in documents. The day I got their letter, I overnighted the documents. I had to wait a week for the letter, even though by calling to check on the application, I knew the letter had been sent only a day or so after they had sent it. Nonetheless I had to wait for it, they wouldn’t tell me over the phone what they needed or where to send it. Now I wait for them to process it. It has been a week since they received the documents, and I call every day to check the status. They never tell me anything new, only that it is “pending” and they have no idea how long it will be. I tell them I can’t pay my rent, that I could be evicted. Still, nothing. The landlord has sent a letter about reknewing the lease, putting a note on the bottom about it can only be renewed if there are no rent arrears. Effectively telling me to pay up within 7 days or get out. I don’t think it’s right, or fair, I’ve never struggled with paying the rent before and I will call up tomorrow to complain. But, at the same time, it scares me.

But all I can do is wait. On someone else, the state, to get through the red tape just so I can pay my rent.

I am tired. Money is the first thing on my mind when I wake up, the last thing to slip out of it when I fall asleep at night. I spend most of my days worrying about it. I think about going back to work, and I wonder- what would I do? Work in a shop? Making minimum wage? How would I work around getting the kids to and from school? My husband hasn’t moved back in yet, and he’s not even allowed on the grounds of my youngest child’s school.

I see it as this, I need to pay my rent, I need to put food on the table, my children need clothes, they also need decent furniture for their rooms,I need to be able to fund my expensive studies, I need to be able to buy gas, keep the electricity and heating on. My kids rightfully expect to be able to continue with their extracurriculars. I expect to be able to buy them birthday and christmas gifts and taken them places and do things with them. Yet, I won’t even be able pay the rent each month on a crappy minimum wage job.

But what if I were making more than that? What if I were making £150 an hour? Working hours that I choose? What then? Is it possible? Is sure seems that way. There are thousands of women doing it in this country alone. Making ends meet and even plowing a bit into savings at the end of the month. Is it time I take off the rose coloured glasses? Accept the harsh realities? Welfare isn’t saving me, and until I get that degree and get into a career, work isn’t going to save me either.  If I rely on either of those options, I’m going to see my family on the fucking streets.

I told my husband in bed one evening, I was facing away from him, we’d had some small talk and were close to drifting off. I tried not to sound weak when I said it, tried not to let my voice break.  “I’m thinking of becoming an escort.”

There was no outrage, not even any questions. Mostly silence as he tried to work it through. After some tense discussion, in which he admitted having the desire to give me his wedding band and telling me to do what ever I wanted, he agreed he could see no other options and  finally asked what he could do to support me. I told him I’d need pictures for a website, and he was best placed to do them. He  agreed, and after a few seconds, asked if I thought he could use it as a way of getting more photography jobs from web designers.

 

resentment

We are out of money again. I am expecting some money to come in soon, well, desperately hoping is probably better than “expecting”. But, until then, every day I log into online banking and my stomach sinks as I see the balance has dropped further into the red. Whats worse is that our bank was recently swallowed up by a big greed mega bank, and gone are the days of simply being charged 5 a day for being overdrawn. We are now charged 25 for anything that’s paid while overdrawn and 25 for any unpaid, as well as 5 per day. I’m facing something around 200 in bank charges next month.

Whats actually bothering me though, besides the fairly usual and mundane money crisis, is that I’m struggling not to blame my husband for this. I seem to have fallen into this trap of unconsciously blaming him for everything that goes wrong. It’s his fault the house is a mess. His fault we have no money. His fault I’m stressed and worried all the time. His fault I’m on the verge of failing out of my degree program. HIS FAULT.

I guess for awhile, a lot of it was his fault. But, whats done is done. It’s been a year since my discovery, our separation. The police have finished their investigation and elected not to file formal charges and social services have decreed that he may come home once again.

Maybe that is the problem. Instead of being the bad guy in all this, he seems to be coming home like a bloody conquering hero. The kids greet him with open arms every time he comes through the door, and the baby cries when daddy isn’t here and I suppose I’m bitter about this. He moved back in with his parents for a year! I was forced to become a single mother, endure the humiliation of the schools knowing exactly what was happening and still having to do the school run and chat to teachers and principles like normal, as well as having social services in my home twice a month. And I didn’t do anything wrong!

I know I’m possibly being unfair. Being away from me and the kids was hell for him. His parents didn’t want him there, and now he’s on the register and lost his job. So, the whole vicious cycle starts again, I feel bad for blaming him for everything, then I think- “wait a minute!”….

What to do? What to do.

I am home all the time, so really- it’s my fault the house is a mess. I manage the money (not happily and under protest), and I’m historically bad with money, so it’s probably my fault we have no money. I am in control of my own feelings, so if I’m anxious or worried, that’s my fault as well. And of course, it’s my degree and nobody’s fault but my own if I’m failing.

All of that makes sense, right? But, when I take all that on and acknowledge it, it leaves me feeling more alone and bitter than ever. HE did this awful thing and it just about destroyed me. Yet, I’m paying the price for it. Still. I didn’t even get  a proper separation because he couldn’t be alone with the kids. I wasn’t going to refuse to let him see the kids (even social services said they wouldn’t like that), so even when we were supposed to be separated, it never even felt like we were. Not to mention he used my address, the same joint account and wore his ring the entire time.

I guess I know that not every stupid crappy thing that happens is his fault. But, just knowing that isn’t enough. I am angry and bitter and  even though it seems like the right time to just forgive and move on.. I’m not sure I can. I want to hate him. I want to cry and hit him and rip that engraved wedding ring off his finger and throw him out in the street and never see him again.

But I can’t do any of those things. So, instead I just harbour the resentment and blame inside me. For how long? I don’t know, forever perhaps. How long can a marriage like that last? And, what is it doing to me? Will having money fix it?

Level 0: Absolute Shit & what comes after that.

My counsellor doesn’t tell me what to do about the anxiety, the fear. She just says that I should spend a few minutes a day “grounding” myself. Checking in with my body, putting my feet on the floor, becoming aware of my breathing, figuring out how I feel. I suppose this is good advice, and it is something I do occasionally already. But, those few minutes a day might be nice at the time, but they won’t change anything. They arent going to stop me spending the rest of my time in a constant state of anxiety, fear about the future, and the present.

Next week is our final session, and I’m not sure I know exactly what I’ve accomplished with her. I suppose having a safe place to let out all my emotions has been good, but it’s only been a few weeks and I still feel as bad inside as before I started to go. I guess dealing with a lifetime worth of issues possibly takes a bit longer?

I worry so much, about everything. But, I’ve found this sort of midline- where I know that everything is absolute shit, but it’s a level of absolute shit that can be tolerated. It’s the lowest level, I think, but it can still be tolerated. When things dip below this level, I have a meltdown, I just can’t function. There is constant sobbing, and objects being thrown and accusations and cruel words can’t be kept to myself. I hate those times.

I wish I had some answers. I wish I knew how to stop feeling so anxious. I wish I knew how to stop myself from sobbing. How to keep myself from shovelling food in my mouth in an effort to keep the bad feelings away.  I was sobbing the other day, and it got so bad that I threw up. And then I made myself do it again. It was so horrible and disgusting but at the same time, it was a distraction. It was a moment where I couldn’t cry, where I couldn’t think, where it felt as if all the bad feelings in me were gone, as if I could just vomit them up. I haven’t done it again, haven’t felt quite that level of desperation and pain again. I wonder if I could do it again? I even wonder if it’s the answer to this horrible binge eating. If I comfort eat, and then force myself to throw up, can I at least stop from gaining more weight?   I hate thinking that. It must sound horrible, if I look at it from a different perspective (hell, my own from a year ago?), it seems stupid. But, really- right now, it seems completely logical.

I want to be happy, and relaxed. I’m afraid I will be this anxious, scared person the rest of my life. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for things to fall apart. I think this experience has profoundly changed the person I am. I will never be the same person, who just did things for the sake of doing them without fear or worry and didn’t give to much thought to what people thought of her, again. Now, I am cynical. I know that everyone has an ulterior motive, and they will screw me if they need to. I don’t trust. I know how people really are-  why they ask the questions they ask, or say certain things.

I am cynical, suspicious, perhaps even paranoid. I don’t like this new person, but she is part of me, now. I was never crazy about the old me, but I’d give almost anything to have her back.