The thought of housing can make one so glum. Why I continue to write about it I'm still trying to figure out because what I contribute to the debate in newspapers and stuff, has very little impact.
Anyway, enough about that, I guess I'm just introducing a post I was reluctant to write this morning but figure I'll write it anyway because I know that people feel as I do, people who are in my situation.
It's bidding day tomorrow. Do I start bidding again?
There, that question to myself is enough to get me spinning into a direct downward spiral of depression of which there is a difficult return to a semblance of happiness. When this happens, I, like other depressed people, cut myself off so I don't have to pretend. Even now, better than I was, I still can't carry a conversation for very long unless I'm drunk.
Is there any point to my bidding? I'm not in "pressing need" now, as I sit a comfortable distance from eviction in my temporary accommodation.
They say those in "pressing need" get priority but you know now that's not true and I have to remember, one day, when I'm not in any kind of need, that it's not true.
For those with children they're are prioritised with a roof over their heads, but only a temporary one. For those without children, or disabilities, or a 100th birthday coming up, they don't make the priority list at all; not even for a patch of pavement in Westminster.
My housing support worker said that he would do my bidding for me but he hasn't been doing it. I checked. I haven't heard from him in so long I'm wondering if he's fallen off the face of the earth. Next week though my son's social worker has called a meeting at the school; to have my son taken off the Child in Need register. I wonder if support worker will be there?
Maybe I should bid and just not tell you about it because telling you about it depresses me more than the act of doing it. No, that's not true, the act of doing it is so depressing I have to offload my poisonous emotion somewhere.
More and more people are presenting themselves as homeless. The competition for the few properties there are is so intense.
I've got to do it; I've got to bid. I've got to show willing, desire even in the face of hopelessness.
I'd rather slit my wrists to be honest which is why I'll post about something else, something different after this; move my mind away from where my mind is resting - in the abyss.
At least warnings of impending doom are getting louder now. We just need those at the top not to close their ears to what they choose not to see.