Thinking I’m Cursed

I’m probably being deeply unfair but it does amuse me that even charities don’t want my time – or at least don’t seem to, given that I’ve heard nothing back in the week since I’ve registered with the volunteer service. I’ll give them until after the weekend and then go direct through the website, see if that’s any more effective.

If nothing else it’ll make an interesting conversation piece when I’m next signing on. In the meantime I’m working through the new set of paperwork from the bank and waiting on a phonecall from the solicitors. The deep joke is that while I was unwell I was financially stable and working – not always to the best of my capacity, but it had worth. Now I’m out the other side, I can’t get work, and am now having to fill out documentation about the illness I just had to stop the bank from beating me with large sticks.

And yet I’m happier than I ever was, even two years ago – must be all this having a stable supportive relationship and being able to look at the benefit of 8 years hard graft with counsellors and psychiatric services.

Funny old world

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