You’re in a privileged position when politics doesn’t affect you. I remember when I was a a carefree 20-something and I could turn the channel over when a politician started chatting about something ‘boring’. But this today? I started to shake when Chancellor Rachel Reeves delivered her Spring Statement. She used the Statement as an opportunity to reinforce Labour’s plans to make cuts to welfare after they announced their brutal overhaul of the welfare system last week. This includes tightening the eligibility criteria for personal independence payments (PIP) which could see an estimated 800,000 to 1.2 million people lose thousands of pounds every year. I’m one of those people.
A few years ago, I was diagnosed with a condition called Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS), which means I live with chronic pain and mobility issues 24/7. I've since been diagnosed with chronic spondylolisthesis and dysfunctional oesophagus. But despite my condition featuring highest on the pain McGill scale, because it’s invisible, it seems I don’t count anymore.
I can’t work because the pain is so debilitating. The money I currently get via PIP is £290 a month, which is barely anything, but it’s all I have. When they take this away from me, it means I’ll literally be left with nothing.
At the moment the £290 goes towards our mortgage, food and heating. Most crucially though, it means we can afford petrol and I can get out to do some art in the community when I feel up to it. I try and do a couple of hours of art each day. To be honest, it’s one of the only things keeping me going. But when my PIP gets cut I know the first thing we’ll have to lose is the car. This means I’ll be stranded and won’t get the occasional escape I need. We’ll barely be able to heat the house. My husband is already working every hour of the day trying to provide for both of us, so I’m equally worried about the effect this will have on him.
As for me, without PIP I’m not sure I want to live. I lie awake at night panicking about how I’ll make it work and what else we’ll have to go without. The worry penetrates my mind and means I can’t concentration on anything. Three meals a day might need to become one or two. Money for heating will have to be put aside only for when it snows. The Samaritans have already helped me once, when I went through the horrific process of the PIP assessment last year. It took me 5 years to mentally attempt an application, and when I say it’s the most horrendous thing I’ve ever been through, I’m not exaggerating. From the outset the assessor said she wasn't interested in any medical reports from 2019, when I was first diagnosed - so I was nervous at the start. The process pushed me to the edge. There were times when I thought I couldn’t go on and I knew I’d be left contemplating suicide if my application was rejected. Luckily it was accepted.
That was last year, and now it’s going to be taken away from me. I know it’s very likely I’ll fall victim to these cuts and have mine revoked because Labour are introducing a points system and I’ve worked out I’ll no longer qualify. Unless you’re at the most severe end of the scale, in a wheelchair or bed-bound, conditions don’t seem to be taken seriously. Health Secretary Wes Streeting recently said there is an 'overdiagnosis' of mental health conditions and too many people are being ‘written off’. But he is questioning the ability of medical professionals to make judgement against his own non-medical judgement.
This is reflected in Labour’s entire approach to disability cuts: ignore those within the medical profession. Changes would not come in until 2026, and the Department for Work and Pensions is currently consulting on the plans, so they are still subject to amendments. According to the think tank Resolution Foundation 'This is a straightforward cut to the generosity of the disability benefit system, with the state saying, in effect, that it will support people with a narrower range of health problems than it did before.'
Knowing that some people will be glad this is happening infuriates me, but there’s a sizable proportion of the country (including numerous politicians) who seem to assume most people claiming these benefits must be lazy and workshy. I’ve been racking my brain trying to think how I could possibly work, even though I know there’s no way that I can. Some days the pain is so bad all I can do is get up out of bed.
My only hope now is that enough MPs are disgusted at the proposals and that we see large numbers resign, which then sparks some kind of change. But otherwise, it seems Labour are doubling down on taking from some of the most vulnerable and I’m terrified for what’s ahead. I don’t know how I’ll cope.
*Name has been changed.