My sabbatical must come to an end. I have not worked since the 2nd of January this year. To be honest, the prospect of working again appals me. Even now, I burst into tears at the drop of a hat! I still have to live within the thrall of the image of my Beloved’s death…
And yet my (our) savings will not last forever, and the thought of taking Government benefits feels like a sacrilegious act. I would have to take sickness benefit, and then prove my depression, my p.t.s.d., or use my spondalitis and stenosis as proof that I can’t physically work… and with that comes the prospect of being investigated, of being told that if I can go fishing for hours then I can work for eight hours…. and so on.
In truth, finding work at the cusp of my sixties, is not going to be easy. At my age, being considered for any position is tenuous at best. I can’t go back to driving a van, given that my beloved was killed in a car crash by a tractor… every time I see a tractor i get a flashback. So that’s out.
My previous job was as a merchandiser, which I did for 15 years. Given that this job entailed me driving all over the country, working 12 hour shifts, this is a no-no for much the same reasons.
I’m too old to act, too shy to promote my artwork, too miserable to work in a shop or bar…
I cannot contemplate writing a novel, I don’t have the patience or the stamina, my poetry these days is not sculpted but rather exorcized from my brain. Visceral brain farts is how I describe them.
So what to do?
Anyone have any answers?
Dale Beloved Partner of ‘M’