My PIP assessment

I had my PIP assessment a few weeks ago now. I requested the report of the assessment as soon as I could, and it is only now I feel able to share what it says, as it has taken me this time to process, "accept" and understand what it says.

Firstly, as far as these reports go, this one was pretty accurate. It recorded with about 90% accuracy what I said at the interview. The problems start with how those things were interpreted in context to the evidence I provided and the evidence the assessor had to hand.

My PIP claim was a renewal claim, previously won at appeal. The questionnaire was filled in, as one would expect, based on my current award of PIP, which I received at appeal. Simple, right? Well no, it seems not. The assessor doesn't seem to have access to this information, and somehow (which is very odd when you think about it) thought that I was renewing a zero claim for PIP after 2 years. Thats right, when the renewal form asks if there has been any change in my condition, and the response was no, the assessor has referenced this to my last PIP report (a zero score one) and not my appeal result (a 13 point one). So therefore, according to the assessment report, I have no functional difficulties, because I reported no changes to my no functional difficulties last time. Completely missing out the 6 months of anguish and pain I suffered to take it to appeal, gather additional evidence and win my appeal.

Not only that, a piece of medical evidence that I provided, both for this claim and my appeal, states clearly that psychotherapy is the treatment of choice for my condition. Now, cleverly, the assessor has managed to turn this evidence against me stating that although I am receiving psychotherapy it is not medically indicated as per my medical evidence. Huh, you may say, huh indeed. This is where it may get complicated for those who may not have a grasp of basic English language (no offence intended). What my medical evidence states, which is a letter written by an NHS consultant is that as I am already in receipt of privately funded psychotherapy, this is more suitable for my needs, as it is long term and any NHS psychotherapy they can offer is relatively short term in comparison, therefore it is a discharge from NHS provision back to my private psychotherapy, WITH THE NHS CONSULTANTS full support.

It really feels like they are scraping around trying to find any reason at all to deny people PIP, and those reasons above are really shockingly bad. I have written to the DWP, as thankfully there is at least a 6 week delay in them processing assessments. I hope that the DWP consider very carefully my letter. Because it truely is ridiculous.

Jay, I cared

Tw: sucide and drugs/alcohol

Its the 4th August 2018. I lose track of the years, but this day is the anniversary of my friends death. She died thinking no-one cared about her, and I try to make sure no one else dies thinking that.

Jay was 17, I met her at college, full of ambition and life. She opened my eyes to a whole new world (if you went to a nightclub when it opened the bouncers weren't there yet). I tried to get her through college. My proudest moment was when she went to an exam, because of me and my persistence. We were the only 2 people that could answer what an advocate was, because of our experience in "the system".

She wanted to be a DJ, or a social worker, because she could do better than the social workers who had worked with her. Jay had a difficult life. She lived in the foyer, a local shelter for young people. She had problems with drugs and alcohol. 

She had an overdose that year, it was when I walked away from her life. I was the only sober person that night who was able to get an ambulance and save her. She wanted me to lie, tell everyone her drink had been spiked. I couldn't do that, one of the hardest decisions I made. I had hoped it would shake her into going straight, but it didn't.

The day I got my a level results was the day I found out she had gone. 

Now, there is hope, because of her. Now, there are people who patrol beachy head to show people they care. They started a year after she went. They have reduced suicide there significantly. Just by showing people that someone cares.

Please, today, tell someone you care about them. Tell them before they're gone they are loved and they'll be missed if they go. Don't wait til it's too late. Reach out now. 

This is an article written about what happened.

http://www.eastbourneherald.co.uk/news/local/tragedy-of-a-lonely-teenager-who-nobody-cared-about-1-1436413 

TRAGEDY OF A LONELY TEENAGER WHO NOBODY CARED ABOUT

Published on the  12  February 2004 12:39

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HORRIFIED witnesses saw a 17-year-old girl throw herself off Beachy Head after telling them that 'nobody cared'.

Jazamin Richardson, known as Jay, was spotted sitting on the edge of the 500ft drop and swigging out of a Coke bottle.

Student  Kate Marshall, one of a group of friends who were having a picnic at  the beauty spot on August 3, tried to talk Jay out of jumping and asked  her friends to call the police.

But Jay told the officers, who raced to the scene, that she was going to have one last drag of her cigarette and then jump.

'I became aware of somebody sitting on the edge,' Miss Marshall told the Eastbourne inquest.

'She was sitting and then standing up then sitting very close to the edge of the cliff.

'She seemed to be drunk. She looked like she was going to jump. We called our friends and asked them to call the police.'

Miss Marshall then approached Jay, who lived at the Eastbourne Foyer before being admitted to hospital, and talked to her.

'I  did not ask her why, I asked her where she was from. She said she had  escaped from the hospital in Eastbourne the night before.

'She reached into her jacket and got some cigarettes.

'I asked if I could have one and I asked her to come and smoke one with us.

'She said no, but she did throw the cigarettes back to me.

'I was turning round to get a light from a passerby and Craig came up with the police.

'She kept saying she wanted to jump. We kept saying - please don't do it. She was saying that nobody cared.'

Jay then said she was going to take one last drag of her cigarette and then jump.

PC  Sasha Coote, who had just arrived at the scene, begged the teenager not  to jump, but she turned to face the drop and then stepped off.

PC  Coote's colleague PC Derrick Wood told the inquest that when he arrived  at the cliff, Miss Marshall was lying down on the edge talking to Jay.

'Jay was standing right on the edge. I asked people to move away.

'I stepped away to use my radio, which took a little bit of time.

'Jay's speech was slurred and she was extremely distressed.

'She was willing to talk to PC Coote but not willing to move away from the edge.

'She said she was going to jump, no matter what she said. She seemed really concerned that we get people away from her.

'She then turned so she faced the sea, lifted her arms up and stepped off.'

Coroner  Alan Craze recorded a verdict of suicide and added, 'In this case it  was observed by a large number of people, none of which were in any  doubt.'

Friends had thought Jay had turned her life around at the Eastbourne Foyer, in St Leonards Road.

She  had plans to become a DJ and was taking her GCSEs at Park College. The  Herald interviewed Jay a year ago, when she had been living at the Foyer  for six months after family problems caused her to leave home.

She had completed a Prince's Trust scheme, joined Park College and was full of plans for the future.

Staff and residents at the Foyer were deeply distressed to hear of Jay's death.

A  spokesperson said at the time, 'Until recently, Jay had lived at the  Eastbourne Foyer and during that time had been a proactive member of the  Foyer community.

'In the early part of the year Jay had  been involved in a photography project run by the Foyer and a poster  featuring Jay was chosen as the poster image for a national conference  preventing youth homelessness held in May.

'Jay will be sadly missed by the residents and staff that she had befriended during her time at the Foyer.'

How much is ten pounds to you?

A tenner, 10 bob

Ten quid or ten pounds

How much is it really worth?

As I put my 4 in to the hole in the wall

And a shiny new note fast appears

before it slips from my hand

into fine grains of sand

I think for a minute of its worth

I can spend it so quick

With a swish and a flick

And the invisible money has gone

Writing what those ten pounds could buy

Changes the money from none

Into a complex sum

Of what its actually worth .

Ok, so I think what that note represents

My mind thinks first of food

Perhaps 2 or 3 meals fast and ready,

Or one in a place which is more slow and steady.

However, if it comes with me into a shop,

That ten pound note is worth quite a lot

If im careful and count

I can get pasta, veg, meat and a drink,

Perhaps even a treat

And it might actually last just a week.

So what else could I buy with ten pounds?

Perhaps ten items from poundland

a book, a toy, a craft or some tins,

perhaps a dvd, or some cheap unbranded tea.

I could go on a spree

My ten pounds and me,

If I went shopping on sale.

But then my mind

Turns to more serious things,

Like transport for a week,

Or a train ride, return to see boo,

And it could go to my rent as well.

And gas, electric, or phone,

Those things might last longer

But still do I ponder,

 What more I could do with ten pounds?

I remember once ten pounds was enough,

To give clean water to a family for life

It certainly is true that ten pounds

Could go far if given away

Perhaps man a phone line

Or provide cups of tea

Or even a meal, or perhaps even three.

What value does ten pounds hold for me?

A lot more if I stop and think carefully.

It can go towards food, clothing and bills

(5 tshirts for a tenner in some stores)

As I think about this fact

I am stopped in my tracks

And vow to not tap and run

To stop the grains of sand

And to keep a more careful hold

of that ten pound note

that I didn’t care so much about.

Finding value in myself through finding value in things.

I have spent a lot of time over the last few months sorting out my stuff and my home. I have had to throw alot of things away, and in the process of doing that, deciding what is worth saving. However, somewhat frustratingly I have recently changed my attitude towards this task. This was thanks to a couple of courses I attended (Sheffield flourish and Storying Sheffield).

In those we focused on our stories. The personal narrative that makes up our lives, and how we can use different ways to express that. I have come to realise that I don't just have all this stuff for no reason, some of it at least has value. That isn't to say it is valuable, but that it is valued enough by me to keep it. It is different from finding joy in something, because a lot of these things hold difficult stories for me, and really don't bring me joy. However, they are still very much a part of my story, who I am and for that, they are of value to me.

In the last few days as I have considered this, and continued to sort, my attitude has changed to the task because of this realisation. I still throw things away, but not because I have this need to de clutter and tidy but because I no longer feel the need to keep hold of it, it no longer has value or meaning for me. It has stopped becoming part of my narrative. It has also meant that there are things that I have got in boxes that I really want to recover from them, and display them somehow. Not because they are anything special, but because of the value they represent.

I am also going to try this attitude out when it comes to sorting through my clothes. If something has some value to me, adds or reflects some part of my story back to the world then I will keep it, if not, then I probably wont.

It is also interesting then to extend this and deepen it further. By finding the value in these things, and finding those stories and meanings to them, I become the curator of my life. I become more careful about the things that I keep and how I keep them, because they are no longer just things, but valuable things and important to me.

It also means that I become more careful about the things that I buy, and whether those things will add value to my life or not. It might mean choosing to buy less of something more expensive, or spend more on something that will last longer, because ultimately, under it all, it means I am valuing myself and my life more.

By placing a value on the choices I make, the things I eat, what I wear, what I keep  and how I keep it means that I become more mindful of those choices. I also increase my own sense of self through strengthening my self narrative and self worth.

It doesn't mean always buying the most expensive things though. That is the balance. By buying something that is cheaper might mean better value and self worth in the longer term because I am being aware of my budget and staying in control. However, its about making the judgement about what is worth or has value that I should spend money, or even time on (as time is a very valuable resource).

This is just my thought processes at this time, and I am hoping it will evolve over time and as I continue my journey in this way. find

Monster in the toilet zine.

Here is my "monster in the toilet" zine: link to pdf
how to fold the zine ( you can use scissors just fold it in half and cut that way)

It is designed to be printable and coloured in yourself.

enjoy!
There’s a MONSTER in the toilet Mummy,
It tried to eat my hand!
It roared when I went near it,
and it sounded kind of mad.

There’s a MONSTER in the toilet Mummy,
It sits there on the wall
its roar makes my ears hurt
and it's TEETH are ten feet tall


There’s a monster in the toilet mummy,
I'm sure I heard it laugh.
It rattles and blows the water away,
but it ate my hands right off!


You know that monster in the toilet?
It's not scary, mean or mad
it loves to eat up water
and roaring means its glad



You know that monster in the toilet?
its there to keep us clean and dry
it doesn't want to be scary
it just wants to be friendly and say hi



You know that monster in the toilet?
It used to scare me too
But now we are best friends
and I hope you can be too



Hi, im the monster in the toilet
Id like to shake your hand
I love to chat and make new friends
I hope you understand



Hi, I'm the monster in the toilet,
I'm here to dry your hands,
I know I roar and am quite hot,
and I'm sorry if I'm scary
I'm really really not!

A letter to my mental health..

Dear mental health,

You and I first got to know each other when we were ill around age 16. You moved into my life as mental illness without me really inviting there, and very quickly became a thing to be feared and unfortunately something to get rid of.
You were a bad influence on my life early on, getting me into trouble and finding ever increasingly bigger things to do to get my attention. But I carried on, trying to ignore you, being scared of the things you made me do and think, and worst of all it seems, I was powerless to stop you being part of my life. There you were, eating with me, squeezing into the same bed as me. Everything I did, you were there too, like a physical shadow that, along with the dark, came with a coldness I couldn't quite shake off.
That was part of the problem, wasn't it? You weren't quite real, and it was only really me that could see you separate to me, and forever trying to fight you off, even though you weren't really a person, but a thing, like the dog poo stuck to the bottom of my shoe that I couldn't get off and everyone blamed me for the source of the smell. "mental illness" (as I called you then), we were inseparable to everyone else, no one could see beyond you to me, and it made me worse somehow, that my person hood was somehow swallowed up and meshed with this thing that I was trying so hard to get rid of, but no one else saw us separately.
I tried really hard to get rid of you. I went to counselling and tried various different things to try and get rid. I was crying and frustrated when none of them worked and because they made me feel worse, and you became bigger, more scary and attached I stopped trying.

I remember when it changed though. Although it started suddenly, it took some time to change forever, as these things do, and of course there were still difficulties along the way, where I still hated you, ignored you and wished you were gone.
We had a difficult day that day, and as we sometimes did when we were having difficult days found ourselves in a hotel room by the evening, hiding from the world, and I was trying to hide from you too, but as always, you came with me. I had got frustrated and got angry at you, getting myself all worked up in the mix. I ended up crying, and I started to notice my crying had an echo. I looked up and noticed, for the first time a small girl crying across from me. thats not to say you were really there, or that I was seeing you as an illusion either, more that, for the first time I could see you, mental illness, for what you were, what you represented. For me, you were a small girl crying, hurting and really upset, and I wanted to look after you and make it all better.

When I started to get to know you and actually understand you, and why you were with me, was when we both started to get better. We worked together, not against each other, to solve the problems I was having with you being around, and you grew up too. You became a mature part of me, wise and thoughtful and generally good to be around. Getting to know you was difficult, but it became very important as it also meant I got to know myself too, and we got better.
You still had that streak in you, and you still do, that needs and sometimes craves attention. But I have learnt, and you have accepted that the sooner I give you that attention, and the more positive attention I give you, the less of an issue it becomes.
Of course, we didn't do it on our own. I went back to therapy, with a different attitude this time. I no longer wanted to destroy you because I learnt that although your name of mental illness seems quite scary and at times you still are, you are still a part of me, and there is a reason you are there. When I find that difficult I remind myself of the hurt and crying little girl you once were and under all that bad stuff thats what you are, and thats how I should treat you.

I remember the day you decided to move out from living with me. I was quite happy, but soon became quite lonely without you there all the time. However, I knew that this new way of being was much more healthy, and its not like you are gone forever.
You only live next door to me now, but it works so much better. We are friendly neighbours, but each with our own space and separate lives. I go to places without you now, I have learnt to be myself again. We still talk daily, and I love to tell you what I do now, and we are still welcome at each others houses, the difference is that we have a lot more respect for each others space and know that it doesn't mean anything bad.

When you moved out from my life, we decided to change your name from mental illness to mental health. It was symbolic of how you have changed from being a negative part of my life to just being a part of it.
I hope we continue to grow together and strengthen each other through working with each other and not against each other.


..and no offence, but I hope you don't move in again...

this is your song..

Today I went to a course run by Sheffield Flourish. We were thinking about stories, and also about music and it got me thinking.

It was said that everyone has a story in them and about them, and that scared me a bit, because I don't like some of my story, and some of my story I don't own. However, when we started thinking about music and how that can form part of identity it really resonated with me. There are some days I can't write, or think or do anything, but then when I listen to music it breaks down those barriers in some way and reconnects me to life and reminds me of who I am.

In essence my story is played out through other peoples music, and their lyrics mirror my own experiences. When I find a song that does that it stays with me for a long time and becomes part of me. There are some songs where the majority of it don't make sense to my story, aside from one line. The lyric "this isn't everything you are" is one of those. There are also songs that I really love the words but hate the music to it, and feel like it needs to be sung in a different way and that its true potential hasn't quite been unlocked. Katy Perry's Tiger is one of those songs.

So, I have a great collection of songs that form part of my identity and really speak to me. However, the one I'm going to highlight here is the song "I'm not alright" by Skillet. It really speaks to me about how vulnerable you have to be to ask for help and how easy it is to say "I'm ok". To have this in song format makes it easier somehow to talk about things when I'm not ok.

I hope this has made you think about your story a bit, and what songs you would have in your soundtrack..