Coming Around Again

Before I went to Woolfest, I received form IB50 from the Benefits Agency. The usual claptrap about wanting “more information” about my medical condition – the same form that I received 18 months ago which led to the Great IB Debacle. O Joy.
It didn’t have to be returned until the 12th of July, so I decided (sensibly) to leave it until I returned. Frankly, I had more important things to think about – like my recovery and getting to Woolfest. The form has since been filled in and was posted in time, but it raises some interesting questions.
18 months ago, despite being virtually housebound by agoraphobia and panic disorder, my IB claim was turned down. The doctor who performed my Personal Capability Assessment (PCA) massaged my answers to fit his criteria, and in the end it looked as though there was nothing wrong with me. This time, I am a million times better than I was, yet still not well enough to get to the Job Centre to sign on by myself. I need more time to continue with my CBT, to build up my levels of independence to a point where I can rejoin the real world properly.
You see my quandary. Not well enough to sign on, but technically not unwell enough to claim IB. I am in limbo, and my choices are limited. If I tell the truth – that I can get out and about to limited places like the local shop, I’ll fail and be denied IB. Alternatively, I could make out that I’m no better, and even though I’ve made progress with CBT, I could say I still don’t go anywhere on my own. In other words, I could lie.
I’ve decided to write a blog entry about it to highlight just how screwed the system is. Instead of focusing on my recovery and being positive, I’m put in a situation where I’m worrying about whether my benefit will be stopped, and focusing on the negative to make sure that doesn’t happen. In other words, going against everything that the CBT has taught me. Anyone who has filled in these disability benefits forms knows how soul destroying it can be. Telling the Benefits Agency all the negative stuff. It compounds it, drives home how much you can’t do. Everyone who knows me knows that I’m trying my damnedest to get past the agoraphobia. They know how much I hate it, how much I’m fighting it. How much I’m trying my damndest to stay positive. However, I still have problems. Going most places leaves me mentally exhausted. I have to push myself every step of the way. I still can’t answer the telephone if I don’t know the number, and I still don’t answer the door. I do try to keep a positive mindset, and part of the CBT focused on how negative I can be, and helped me address that. Now I’m being made to fly in the face of my therapy to get a bit of money to live on.
I have kept my paperwork from the IB Debacle, and my one comfort is that I know exactly what they’ll be looking for. However, it still makes me uncomfortable, in spite of me saying 18 months ago “I don’t care if I have to lie, I don’t want to ever go through an appeal ever again”

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