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Self Esteem

It shouldn't come as a surprise to hear my self esteem isn't what the government would like it to be. But then I wonder if it ever has. I'm not sure how one defines self esteem: how can I step outside of myself and objectively measure such a quality? I gather though that normally people feel pretty confident about their decisions and that second guessing oneself is not a good quality. Of course it's far too easy to say to another 'pull your socks up lad', or some other trite platitude. I've never found that helpful. To me such attitudes are either sink or swim: you either do as commanded, or you feel that bit more alienated. I've always been the latter.

For the past almost 6 years now I've had to tolerate abuse, furtive innuendo and generally be the unwilling victim of the local yobs. For some reason, and I have yet to understand why or how, I have become not only the local figure of fun (which, while bad enough, wouldn't be as much of an issue alone) but a target for their - and we're talking ignorant teenagers it seems - abuse. They think I've wronged them somehow. I won't go into details: not least of all because I don't have any. I don't know who these people are, I've had no dealings with them in any way fashion or form. Nor do I seek to. Consequently my self esteem, confidence and general mental health, has taken a nosedive. It's a major part of why I claimed ESA until last March. Unfortunately the emotional fallout isn't enough of a motivation for the doctors to do anything.

I don't have any answers to this, and it's still happening. I received the latest whispering and pointing this evening as i went to get some dinner from the shop. It's so easy to hurt others with this kind of ignorant crap. These kids have no clue and obviously don't care. Any attempt by me to deal with them would probably make things worse: I'd lose my cool one way or the other and become a joke to them. Certainly you aren't going to win them over against the words of their mates.

So i find myself, as i try to recover, wondering just how the likes of the Work Programme, with its cake baking courses and flowery pictures filled with positive words and action plans, can hope to address such deep seated issues. Especially in a group environment - something I dread. Do I really want to stand up and talk about this in front of complete strangers or, at the very least, a course provider? Are these people trained psychiatrists and therapists? I doubt it! It's one thing posting here about it (and I'm reluctant to do so even as I type - not least because it seems like self indulgence), but it's quite another to see the face of the person. What would the Jobcentre think if I expressed such doubts? I've tried talking about this to the doctor, but they aren't interested and there's next to no help. Perhaps my new best friend, The Psychologist, can help. If not, I'm going to have to ask some serious questions as to what it is The Psychologist is actually for!


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I Fucking Hate the Work Programme

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My legs were wobbly to begin with as I closed in on the church that passes for the office of the employment wing of the Salvation Army. My appointment was 3 to half past. I really did feel sick. Pretty early on, when he asked for the forms he gave me last time to fill in, I knew that what was arranged on the letter (a short interview with me bringing my CV and jobsearch) was actually going to be much longer. I also knew that, come half three when I had to leave to catch my bus back ten minutes later, I was going to have problems. 
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Do the Tories persist with these policies because they actually believe they are correct or even moral?

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So tomorrow morning is my WCA. Needless to say I am not looking forward to it, and that would be an understatement. It's currently sitting in my mind, refusing to leave, cooking up a stultifying negativity. That's the thing with depression; it's a presence that, even if you manage to distract yourself for a time, it returns with hammer-like vengeance. That feeling alone is enough to make the problem of depression the horrible reality it is. Sucker punched by your own thoughts.

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