Usually there is a trigger, some day's it's pain, some days it's mobility and some times it's just how generally yucky I'm feeling. Today it was none of these, today it was something else entirely. Today myself and Chris got turned down for a house we wanted to rent. For most people it's not a massive deal. For me, this time, it felt HUGE. We weren't told why we were turned down, even following the insistence of the estate agents that the landlady wanted to meet perspective tenants and make a decision herself, of course we had no such meeting. She may have just simply chosen to go with someone else, but I would quite willing put money on the fact that it is because we are on housing benefit, which we obviously are, but it is not as simple as that. We only receive a small amount of our rent through benefit, the rest, which is also the majority, is made up my Chris's wage. We struggle, but had found the further £55 a month we would need to rent this house. I felt we were just passed over, I always thought that if the landlady wanted to meet people then we would at least be able to stand a chance, to explain our situation. But no, screwed over again.
This house wasn't perfect, far from it in fact. The downstairs was lovely, the upstairs could be nice with some work but the bathroom, well nothing could save that! So why you ask me, why am I so disappointed and upset that I didn't get it. Well people, location, location, location. Those of you who frequently read this will know that my family are a massive source of support to me when it comes to both my health and my daughter. My parents and my sister and her boyfriend both live on the same estate, the same one where I grew up and this was only a few minutes walk from them. As Chris can't drive and I can't even learn this was so good. That and the fact that it would also only be a couple of minutes walk from my best friends house. So, why don't I just look for another in the area? Well, it's not that easy, for some reason (possibly the bathroom) this was about £150 a month less than most others in the area. So it simply won't happen. I cried for ages, I was always taught if you work hard you can accomplish anything. I worked hard, I worked so hard and all I manage is to work myself into permanent disability and poor health.
I need a magic fairy God mother/father to give me £100-150 per month for the foreseeable future then I would be able to choose between about 5/6. I wish. I wouldn't have to worry massively about relapsing and being stuck at home all the time then (as I wouldn't live in a first floor flat), Niamh would have a room that was bigger than a glorified cupboard and we would have a garden. I would be close enough for my family to easily to get to me if I needed them, and we would be in a quieter area with a lower rate of crime. But that is just a dream, for now, perhaps for a long time.
I really should stop moaning, I have it so much better than so many other people out there, it just got to me. Sorry for the downer, hopefully tomorrow I'll be in a better mood. Night folks!
