How I Turned into an Acorn.

Since I've been on Twitter I've rather let this side of me languish. The Dark Half. (Cue Dexter theme tune).

Because I keep both my Follower & Following numbers down I've been able to tailor my Twitter-feed down the paths of all the things which give me the deepest pleasure and interest in life. I was once told by a colleague that my Twitter page was a "mish-mash" of non-associated subjects; it was "all over the place" and "really boring stuff". (A trait a follower once referred to wryly as my being a "polymath".)

But the main point about why I've swung more over to that side of me than this side is because it's exhilarating. Every single time I click on I'm confronted by stuff I didn't know before; or things I'd often pondered over, looking for a 'why'. Or beautiful art. Or a horrible - but-funny -pun. And the thing is - I can talk to people about it all and they can respond knowing just what I mean. For the past 4 years that's something I've missed dearly.

I'm not for a minute attributing base attitudes to the people whom I've come to know on Twitter. But I have often wondered: how would the things I said and wrote about or reacted to, be viewed if they were known to emanate from someone on Benefits?* Living in a Homes Trust flat? Who has no money at all except for the Benefit - which leaves them literally, absurdly and truly penniless except for a small opening for about 5 days of every fortnight. (I had actually spent most of my life thinking that the word "penniless" was hyperbole to indicate 'not well off'.)

So it's not as if I've been keeping her hidden - that half-mad Dole-bludger who lives in the attic- it's that the occasion to bring her up has never presented itself. Things I have said about myself - I've lived and traveled all over the world; I've lectured at Universities; I'm a published writer; I had a Nanny; etc.etc.? There's not much occasion to footnote them with "But today I'm starving in a garret and am destitute because I live the Life of  Reilly buying booze & drugs."

Which is the way the amorphous "people on benefits" are portrayed to jet-setters, lifelong writers, academics and People with Nannies:- we are, uniformly "Sucking on the teat, mate. Drugs and booze courtesy of the State."

But today, sitting in the sun in the garden with Boris-dog, I suddenly thought "Fuck it".

Yeah, I  have a middle-class background. And yes I'm now living in penury. That's just who I happen to be right now. And who I might be for the rest of my life. Adds to the "mish-mash". Deal with it - if you consider it's something  you need to deal with.

If you don't think it's anything worth dealing with then just take this as an explanation for why, though I may plug your books, I never buy any myself.  Why I get excited over coming events and sometimes flood them shamelessly around but don't go to them. Why a weekend trip up to Norwich or Dublin or The Wall is out of the question when I show such enthusiasm for these things.( And when I mention having gone over to Europe sometimes? That's strictly courtesy of my own family or old friends.)

On balance, I  rather think it's better to have people know I'm skint than let them think I'm just miserly!

When I came out about being bi-polar the sky didn't fall on my head and those people who responded, did so non-judgementally. When I wrote about being a survivor of Domestic Abuse no-one appeared to fall into a faint. I felt I had to get those things out of the way because they are such large parts of who I am and are things I always r.t.

For a long time I've been thinking those two bits of info enough for people to take in. Anything more begins to sound like the trials of Job. It's getting just a tad OTT.

But I am also an ageing woman living in State accommodation with her dog. And that, in so many ways now, colours what I say, and think, and get worked up about. It's another facet of life for me now, and it's teaching me different skills and attitudes and visions for the future.

It's so recently that I have come out of the enveloping fog of the past two years of deep mental illness that everything is still new & fragile. I've come to terms with exactly where I am now - but am still learning about this me. The me who lives this new reality where everything has been re-arranged. Though one thing I know is that she favours bull-shit every bit as little as she ever has.

So I'm going to give it a go: thinking I'd lost my sanity for 2 years has taught me how precious it is to have it. So I intend to get out there and use it: I'm going to try to build myself up again as a writer.

But I'm not going to stick to a theme, or construct a false public face - as I did once before for 15 years. I'm going to carry on in my messy way on-line. And additionally I'm going to write about what interests me; and what I know about; and what I'm finding out about life in this framework. And sure - what I've done and where I've been when it impacts upon what I think. So my credentials - my new proofs of knowledge - now take the form of Council letters, personal experiences and the views expressed around me.

They are every bit as valid as the framed certificates and awards that used to line my walls before the fire which took all my proofs of a previous life away.

So, just as other women are fighting to have their titles acknowledged, I am submitting my latest title: Benefit Recipient. It is now as much a part of who I am as everything which came before.

* "On Benefits" is how people who are on Welfare or the Dole etc. live in the UK."