Debt and disorder

Fundraising for Falmouth

One of the things that having mental illness has left with me is very large debts. Before I was diagnosed with Bi Polar Mood Disorder, and full of the joys of working full time post-Uni, I went on ridiculous spending sprees. I spent £60 a week on comics, the same on records or books. I went to America twice in a year, and then again the next year. I bought a house! Then I bought another house! Then I cracked, had a breakdown and was unable to work for around 8 years. 

I slowly rebuilt myself with the help from an excellent GP, great local mental health services, a drop in centre and support workers from a mental health housing charity. I went back to art school, started again by taking an art foundation course, then a FdA, and finally having patched myself together enough to consider it I applied to do an MA and was accepted.

In order to pay my fees I sold a lot of the stuff I had bought when on my spending sprees. I raffled prizes that my talented friends donated. I applied for grants and received one from a charity that had helped me financially during the worst of my illness. I borrowed a small amount from my Grandad. I managed to raise the 50% needed to sign up for the course. I figured i'd sort the other 50% out later. 

I moved to Cornwall and fell in love with the place, I paid back my Grandad and was awarded some funding from the University towards the remaining fees. A very kind friend loaned me money to finance my final project and deposit/letting agent fees. 

I struggled with the MA, it was hard- I still wasn't really mentally well. I found a lot of the language hard to understand and I had difficulty managing my frustration, brought about by my brain not working 100% right. Many times I cried, many times I sat silent not being able to take in what the discussions were actually about. But I completed it- I passed and now have even more letters after my name.

Unexpectedly after finishing my MA I found myself working for the University- for the first time in 8 years I had a job. It was a steep learning curve, and my colleagues both helped and hindered my continuing improving mental health. I had some amazing support, made some wonderful friends, but also experienced bullying and unfair treatment. 

Last year, just over a year ago, I was made redundant and since then I have had one 6 month contract of full time work, followed by 6 months of self employment. Being made redundant only really hit home after my 6 month contract ended and I found myself mourning the old job, on top of that I was dealing with more bereavement and a massive decrease in income.  

I have been struggling for the last year. I've been struggling with my mental health, with multiple bereavements, with loss of direction, with brain fog and fatigue. I've been struggling with the fact systems I put in place to help me pay off my debts have been falling down- one creditor took out a CCJ against me and today I discover a letter from them saying they have applied for an Interim Charging Order against the property I still own. 

I have a Foundation Degree

I have a BA 

I have an MA

I cannot understand the letters that are sent to me. I cannot fill in the forms correctly. I cannot make the phone calls because when I talk on the phone I get flustered and confused, I get distressed and everything goes dark in my eyes. 

I am confused and scared. I am angry because I am one of the lucky ones, one of the clever ones, well educated, well medicated, chock full of white cis privilege. I am angry because if this is how hard it is for me how do people who don't have my privilege survive? And I am cross with myself because I just want someone else to sort it all out for me, sort out all this mess I got myself in when I was high as a kite paying rent on a credit card and buying air tickets while I had no job. 

And I am angry that this CCJ and Interim Charging Order comes attached to debts from Lloyds bank that I racked up while I was at the height of my illness. I am angry because I remember my Dad sitting in the bank with me telling them not to lend me any more money, telling them I was too ill to manage my own accounts.

I wish I had the energy to fight this, to rage against the machine, but I don't. This year has been hard, there have been times when I have been hanging on by a thread. I'm still here but it still hurts. 

This is why i'm still here