Steven was awake at 4am this morning, having a full scale meltdown. Crying. Trying to rip his duvet. Pleading for reassurance to the question – “Don’t want new Uxbridge house people keep all Steven Neary’s CDs”. It lasted until 5.30am.
The cat is out of the bag now. I’m struggling enough to contain my anxiety but now that Steven knows we’ve got to move soon, his anxiety has kicked in big time. The day before last, the doorbell went at 8.30 in the evening and it was the new tenants wanting to measure up for curtains. They were excited, full of questions and oblivious to the distress they were causing Steven. I sent them away but it was too late.
15 days to go.
When I sat in the housing benefit office 330 days ago and was delivered the bad news about them stopping my benefit, I never dreamed that we would still be in a terrible state of limbo with 15 days to go before the tenancy ends.
As usual, everything is a process. And they will argue that they have followed due process all the way through. I’m not so sure.
Last week I got an email from the housing manager that stated: “I am hoping to give you an update by the middle of next week”. Hoping? Update? Middle of next week? It couldn’t be more vague if it tried. And it’s now the middle of next week and no update has arrived. But perhaps that was never the point. Perhaps we haven’t suffered enough yet.
It’s funny how all those old wounds that I thought I’d tended to, can suddenly resurface. When we moved into this flat in 2009, the gas board came and condemned the cooker. It took the landlady a month to buy a new one. During this month, the old, “theres always something or other with Mr Neary, social worker turned up for a visit. She put on her serious face and said she was very concerned that Steven was having to have takeaways most nights. There was a threat in there.
Face forward 4 years and the same thing is happening. Even if the council find us somewhere, it will be too late to get the kitchen equipment delivered before we the move. Stupidly, I keep picking the 2009 scab and worry about how the lack of a cooker and fridge will be seen by the professionals. It’s completely irrational but it’s the sort of bollocks that has led to me having on average 4 hours sleep a night for the past two weeks.
Steven keeps wanting to put things in boxes. Yesterday, he finished watching his set of Gladiators videos and went off looking for a box to put it in. Scared shitless that it will be left behind or someone might claim it as fixtures and fittings.
15 days to go. How much more anxiety can be cranked up in that time.