Gale Force Frustration

For the last two days, the weather all over Scotland has been less than pleasant. And because we live atop a high hill, we get it slightly worse still than those in the town centre. Everything has been rattling and booming and banging. Which led Dad into panicking that the living room window would shatter. You see, some ever so helpful teen yobs, thought it was a cracking laugh to batter it senseless with snowballs when winter was upon us. The poor old thing couldn't take it and a semi circular sheet of glass was cracked out of it. It's just one of the many things that need fixing in the house and probably the lowest on the urgency list. I tried and failed to secure us grants, loans or any sort of help to put things right and make it easier on Mum who is disabled. There's one final option that any rational sort would think would be the first go to. And that is housing insurance. There are many things wrong in the house, some structural and dangerous. But for whatever reason I cannot persuade my father to contact them.

And I cannot tell you how much this bemuses me and frustrates me. Lately I've been oversleeping with the depression and didn't get up until 5pm yesterday. So I stagger downstairs, bleary eyed and limbs like lead weights. Still yawning, despite sleeping over 12hrs and achy all over. I'm not sat down two minutes before Dad starts badgering Mum (who's disabled remember) to get a bin bag taped over the broken window. he then starts in about how he'd do it but she's never got gear ready for him. She fires back that he has the flu & shouldn't go out because it could get into his chest. So when I see Mum putting on her parka, I bark at her to sit down. I told her I'd go out with my brother to do it. So I slip my feet into my trainers and I button up my parka over my PJ's. Put a dishcloth in my pocket along with the tape and we take the bag two handed out doors.

Obviously, it was a  fools errand from the get go. Whilst the wind is tipping over bins and what remained of the garden fence, our struggle with the bin bag was irritating to say the least. No matter what we did, no matter how we tried, this black plastic bag was not going anywhere near this window. So my brother started ranting about how stupid it all was and I agreed. And I told him, I've tried to get Dad to see sense and look into the housing insurance. When I do though, I get no back up from anyone else. Which is the part that confuses me the most. I know I'm not the only one unhappy and ashamed about the living conditions in here but I seem to be the only one who seems motivated to do anything about it.

I know that Dad feels guilty about the past and his part in the house's current condition. He's not the only one to blame though. And he shouldn't let embarrassment or pride keep him from having the essentials that every human being should have access to. I just can't stop worrying that if we don't do something soon, something awful will happen to one of us. The bathroom floor is unstable and the porch is falling down. Someone could get hurt. And I know he doesn't want to have people in here judging us and looking down on us but we have to grin and bear it. For the future and safety of every member of this household.

If I am to be moving out. Which is a great possibility now the Community Mental Health Team have secured me a flat. I want to be able to sleep soundly at night knowing my loved one's are safe and warm. Right now they're neither. I want them to have access to warm water, a shower and to not to have to worry about how cold it gets in winter because they'll have central heating. I love them all dearly but this refusal to face up to the situation and actually try to make a difference boggles me sometimes. If we try and fail at least we did something. And that's all I'm asking is that they try. They deserve to have nice things and not feel ashamed of how they live. They should be able to have friends over and not worry that someone will show up at the door unexpectedly, revealing their shameful secret.

I can only hope that the Social Worker that I arranged for the family can help them once I'm gone. They should have more money coming in without me here and be entitled to benefits such as Housing and Council Tax, which my and my brothers presence exempts them from. I'm taking a leap of faith in moving out. My psychologist wouldn't be happy to know that I'm doing it more for them than me. I don't care though, if I can do one good thing for them no matter what I have to do I'll do it. Of course getting a job just yet is impossible but I hope living with my brother will be a stepping stone, so that I can care for them as well as they have cared for me.