Benefits. Really?

I'm sure we have all questioned from time to time who our benefit system really truly goes to help. We live in a society where the sick and disabled are given a meagre income that doesn't honestly reflect the costs of life. Yet each and every poxy penny has to be so meticulously applied for that you are left with that empty, hopeless, sinking feeling.


Has anybody noticed how recently 'public enemy number one' are those less able than others? Stealing, sponging, skiving, scum. That's what the news reporters seem to struggle to keep from tripping off their tongue. I'm beginning to think that the Cuntservatives and the Liberal Demotwats will soon order a mass genocide of 'disabled cleansing'. They're certainly stirring up enough nationwide hatred.


Do people really believe that those with disabilities WANT to be in the situation which they find themselves in? Do they not consider that most folk would much rather NOT be disabled in the first place? Most blind men aren't blind because they've gauged out their own eyes, so why do people think that those with faulty bones are in some way responsible for their fate??


Just think of all those horrendous duties which are involved in our 'selfish sponging'. Take the process of applying for DLA for example. Has anyone ever experienced a more demoralising, depressing and excruciatingly painful form of semi-public humiliation? Perhaps those quick to pass judgement should think hard about the whole ordeal- wherein you are made to think about every aspect of daily life which is impossible without 'mobility aids' or 'personal assistance.'


I wish sometimes that more people would understand what it's like to struggle with the many things which we do, to cry with desperation and frustration when you can't even pour a glass of milk, wash your hair or make a sandwich. Even having to think before going to the loo about your capability to wipe your own backside that day.


Would they really want to swap? I don't think so somehow. Are we really rolling in it, filthy rich and oh-so-lucky. Or do we just about get by?

No, I’m the damn Slayer!

So you're probably wondering what an arthritic 23 year old can possibly have in common with the legend that is Buffy Anne Summers, Vampire Slayer.


You'd guess right to assume I'm not a karate ninja, I have never decapitated a stoner using a cymbal and I don't screw dead people. But actually our lives are quite alike. We both have to battle demons on a daily basis as a result of our birthright. Neither I, nor the Buff had a choice in this fate, mystical forces beyond human control decided that we should spend our teens longing to be 'normal'.


Also we share a resolute and stubborn sense of self. The words "it's not safe" or "wait for backup" mean nothing to us – WE are the ones who will make that decision. So many decisions have after all been taken away from our control already.


Another thing we have in common is the problem of our future. Our fates have already been decided for us, yet no one has given us the lowdown of what to expect. Buffy stands in hope that her 'expiry date' is a long one 'like a cheeto'. I hope my joints don't expire before I'm good and ready to have more bits replaced and fixed.

While she is a vampire slayer, I am the bionic woman.

 

Sometimes our foes will knock us down. They will hurt and bruise our bodies and souls. They may even make us doubt our own ability and strength. Yet we will rise from the chaos bloodied and tired but never broken, never ever beaten, always stronger, more powerful and with a better sense of how our enemy may be defeated.