No Christmas in a hostel - the fear and relief explained

I'm hoping the tremors from last week's psychological earthquake will stop now, or at least that I stop writing about it. Fear is a very powerful emotion. Relief is very powerful too.

I am spending Christmas with my parents; "Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum". It will be extraordinarily special.
My mum is still cruising around with her Zimmer, picking up speed she tells me. I ask after my dad and she says he's doing well, though my sister called saying "Oh Sue he's really losing it, it's really hard to have a conversation with him now." Special. Christmas will be special.

A week ago today, I told you I couldn't spill my fear on these pages. My fear was real, not unfounded.

On Monday, at the Homeless Person's Unit, the recovering alcholic mum of three told me she had once left her hostel room for four days and when she returned was told her contract with that room had ended. The inference being obviously, that she had somewhere to go. Voluntarily homeless but with two children, she was placed in another hostel.

I believed her because it's not the first time I've heard of this.

Five years ago, the worker at the drop in where I took my then two year old, told me she'd vacated her hostel room to give birth, spent the following two days at her mother's place and when she returned found all her belongings in a black carrier bag in the basement. Her stereo was gone. She had no alternative but to go back to her mother, where she remained 'homeless at home' until she was eventually permanently housed two years later.

Like I've told you, I tend to be afraid of what I know.

If my son and I were in a hostel from Monday, then what to do about Christmas with my parents? If I go, when I come back, the council will say I've made myself voluntarily homeless and I will have nowhere to go. I felt sick with fear. I could not spill it on these pages incase it happened. Even now, I'm not so pleased I'm posting it and would have preferred to write it after Christmas (which is why I haven't started a new paragraph because I don't want a new problem. It's a brutal system we 'statutory homeless' are caught in).

I adore Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee but living with them is not an option. This does not mean I do not love them, I do. For a start, I don't have a driver's licence and I need one of those to live with them. When the local shop closed its doors forever, the bus service was discontinued.

I have a letter saying I do not have to leave this property, not next week, not in the near future. I have a witness that I've been told the Bailiff order won't be enforced until August (you were with me journo, you were with me when they called, I hope I don't have to call you)

I will paper over this post with another. As with blogspot as with life, what is past is past.

"You need to think positive thoughts," said the doc. "You need to get out of your environment, do you have somewhere to go for Christmas?"

I am spending Christmas with my family. I am spending Christmas with my son AND I am spending Christmas with my parents, sister and brothers (must not argue; Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee don't like it and it's not fair on them).

I am extraordinarily lucky. I thank God. I will say a little stigmum prayer on Christmas Day for those who aren't extraordinarily lucky.

To everybody, I toast your wealth, health and happiness for the future, with my cup of tea.