I was widowed suddenly two years go - well 25 months to be exact.
I did all the necessary admin. I organised the funeral. I had help of course but I had to be the driving force.
I was jollied back into my retail business after two months. The support drifted away. Custom dropped. I funded everything on credit because I listened to people telling me everything was fine, it was just the effects of bereavement not that actually it all coincide with the COL crisis. Everybody cheerleader me at a distance.
I finally had to throw in the towel around this New Year. I did steps to well being. All the counselling could do was say "oh, that's alot - practise self care".
I am in the process of being evicted from my rented home. I may have secured a tiny one bed flat but it hinges on speedy expedition of admin from the council because I have to borrow the deposit. And councils don't do speedy.
Currently my Dad has come to stay because my elderly step mother attacked him. Long story. Services are dithering around trying to get her back on track but my Dad has multiple physical health issues that could kill him at any moment.
I am currently on UC and have just managed to convince them I'm broken and can't look for work at the moment. Three separate UC advisors have encouraged me to apply for PIP. Bizarre eh?
I have lost / am in the process of losing everything. I'm medicated for high blood pressure. I am 55 and simultaneously mutinous and terrified.
I have tried every avenue to access practical help fir my Dad as the wait and see if SM gets better approach doesn't address the fact he's likely to be completely homeless in two weeks. He has no assets - she owns the house outright. Plenty of platitudes no practical help. Do not, I repeat, do not attempt to offer me sage advice because I have tried EVERYTHING. And of course services are so stretched and underfunded that until SM burns the house down (she has fluctuating capacity before you ask) no-one can compel her to do anything.
So, I'm an object lesson in how a series of unfortunate events in modern society is detrimental to mental health. I'm a whisker away from going postal most of the time. My big girl pants are all too small. I feel worthless and pathetic and only the needs of my cat, my Dad and concerns for my adult son stop me from doing stupid things. But I have done stupid things. I'm lucky the consequences haven't been worse.
Most irksome are people telling me my late DP would hate to see me like this, still sad, angry, traumatised. No shit. But he's dead unfortunately. I've got this apparently. At 55 I feel like a scared toddler.
So, crack on and kick me while I'm down? I'll just take it. I'm used to it.