For over a month now I've been getting wierd 10 second bashes on the right side of my head. I can't take paracetamol because it's not a headache. Coupled with flaming feet - eczema has descended on them in the same literally bleeding way they did on my breasts when I lived in Japan, I booked a doctor's appointment two weeks ago.
"I've heard you've been offered a flat in Kilburn," says Doc when I sit down.
"Wow, that was quick," I answer.
She said my son's social worker called her (she knew I was seeing her because I told her when she called yesterday morning). Doc was told to tell me that if I don't take the flat in Kilburn then the council will place my son and I in a hostel and if that happens the social services will put my son on the child protection register.
Yes, you read me right
They'll see my actions as one of an unfit mother. So said Doc.
What? I railed, I swore, I cried through all my rantings. That's blackmail I told her. It's the choices I have she replied. "There's no such thing as an ideal world"
"An ideal world?" railed I. "An ideal world is one where I've got a nice job and a rich husband and I live in a house that's mine and I can't get evicted from."
"Oh well that's everyone's ideal," she countered.
"What?" I could only splutter. What's her situation?
"I should take your blood pressure but it's probably sky high," she says.
I left her surgery sobbing, Hard, raw, gutteral sobs.
Sat with Nico Teen by Zat locked bike and sobbed some more.
Lucky enough to run into two lovely mums as I went to buy wrapping paper. Both have survived housing problems with the council in the past
They were both pretty incredulous. There is comfort in that. There is a lot of comfort in that.
"They don't care," said C's mum. "The council don't care at all. You should go up to them, whoever they are and shove that wrapping paper up their arse!"
It's like a heart beat. That's what it's like, the 10 second throb. And it's not 10 seconds at all. It's more like 3. Doc said it was "probably tension headaches." I hope that's all it is. I get them when I'm not stressed too. Right now I've got a real headache, you know, all over.
She said she'd got a referal that I be put through to CBT but said: "You've been down that route and now I think you're just being pushed from pillar to post." She didn't suggest anything else. She didn't say to come back if I need to chat.
She never got to see my flaming feet.
She won't get to see me ever again.
I've spent the night writing to allocations. I'll never post it. Too long. I was writing into a void, just like I am now.
Bad mother...
No-one to talk to but you stiggers.
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