The UK Government’s Welfare Proposals Cut Deep
My fight for disability benefits in a brutal system
Last week the UK government announced
Funny how some budgets take the brunt of the ‘difficult decisions’ and others () receive a healthy increase. This government seems determined to ‘balance the books’ on the backs of those already struggling. First pensioners, now disabled people. Anything to avoid taxing their rich buddies and compromising those shiny future careers. Can you tell I’m pissed off?
To make matters worse, as the dismal story unfolded across the national media, my own personal benefits drama has been playing out in tandem.
Appointment cancelled, claim closed
I woke up Monday morning to a call from the job centre. ‘Don’t bother coming in next week — you’re not eligible for universal credit.’ Through my tears and rising panic, I tried to articulate the complexity of my situation. There was so much context that wasn’t captured by the online form. But computer-say-no responses came thick and fast. Eventually I was promised someone senior would call me back.
Spoiler alert: they didn’t.
Instead, I was left to gloomily begin gathering evidence of my disability. Again. A depressing mound of doctor’s notes and university wellness reviews grew. There was a glimmer of hope though, with my appointment still showing in the system. I messaged to tell them my plan of action, and that my dad would accompany me next week as emotional support.
Within a few hours of my message, my appointment was cancelled. My claim had been closed.
I do not know yet if I have a strong case to appeal, but I am seeking advice. It’s quite possible that my situation falls through the gaps of our system. And that’s the existing system, before the proposed cuts come into play.
I am technically a full time student, yes — this is the grounds on which my claim was denied. But I’m currently taking a year-long break in studies due to my disability and am unclear when I’ll be able to complete my course.
Since 2022, my poor mental health has had me signed off sick for six months of every twelve. I am currently unable to work more than 10 hours a month. My savings, which I’ve been living off, are now running low.
If I’m really not eligible for universal credit, my options are twofold. Drop out of my studies in order to access benefits. Or rely on friends and family to support me. I’m privileged to even have these two options, but neither does much for my sense of self worth.
We want to work more, we just can’t
The thing is, like many disabled people, I want to work more. To do more. To achieve more. I just can’t.
I am passionate about my studies and the work I do. I have so many ideas I wish I was well enough to implement. But even 10 hours a month can feel over-whelming for me, and I need flexibility around that.
Fortunately, I work for . That means my colleagues understand and respect my limitations. I don’t have to pin myself to specific working hours, or even days, so I can catch the moments of energy and motivation when they arise. More than once, I’ve taken multiple weeks off because my PTSD symptoms have flared up and every time this is accepted without question.
The problem isn’t unwillingness on the part of disabled people
How many people can say these things about their job though? This kind of supportive workplace is incredibly hard to find.
And that’s one of endless reasons it’s wrong to take money off disabled people, especially in the name of getting us back into work. The problem isn’t unwillingness on the part of disabled people. It’s the fact there are very few genuinely accessible jobs.
The government knows they are talking nonsense
Employers have few reasons to go out of their way for potential disabled employees.
And cutting benefits payments won’t fix any of these problems. It will just make disabled people poorer, and likely more disabled as a result.
The proposed cuts primarily target Personal Independence Payment (PIP). By shifting the points threshold for eligibility, fewer claims will be approved. But PIP is a non-means tested benefit that covers the extra cost of having a disability* — you can receive it whether you are working or not.
Have they looked around our schools, our streets, our hospitals recently? Or our prisons? This country has been in a mental health crisis for a while.
These cuts clearly have nothing to do with getting disabled people into work. They are a political choice that forms part of a broader narrative. A narrative that says disabled people are a problem.
One of the government’s current lines is that we’re seeing an ‘over-diagnosis’ of mental health problems in society. I’m sorry but we have to call bullshit on that. Have they looked around our schools, our streets, our hospitals recently? Or our prisons? This country has been in a mental health crisis for a while.
Given the long waits and sticking-plaster mental health care on offer, it’s a wonder anyone in the NHS gets a mental health diagnosis at all. By framing it otherwise, Wes Streeting feeds the heavy stigma that exists for those of us with poor mental health. He reinforces stereotypes of the mentally ill as lazy, exaggerating, and attention seeking.
The system makes us sicker
Such stereotypes already appear to inform the existing PIP process. Every assessment question is an attempt to catch you out rather than a genuine enquiry into your support needs. As a survivor of sexual violence, I found that intensely re-traumatising.
For three years, my life had been turned upside down by the reliving of terrifying traumas. I’d had to move house due to frequent panic attacks and had taken voluntary redundancy from a job I’d loved for 10 years. I’d seen a non-stop social life reduced to painting by numbers in my kitchen and the occasional walk with a friend.
And yet they repeatedly told me my suffering didn’t amount to ‘overwhelming psychological distress.’ I wish I could have found it funny. Instead, I felt dismissed, ashamed, and scared.
I couldn’t open one envelope that arrived from the Department for Work and Pensions (DWP) for four months because it filled me with fear. Every time I got close, I’d get so overwhelmed that I’d feel dizzy and leave my body.** Over time, the repeated denial of my emotional reality physically hurt me too. New chronic pains started launching themselves into the mix.
All in all there were eighteen months of stress and waiting and judgements outright denying me support. The basis of these decisions: I was honest and admitted that, on occasion, I’d manage to get out in the world for a bit.
See, the system isn’t built for people with mental health problems. Or for other dynamic disabilities that have good days and bad days. It wants to know, in black and white boxes, what can you do? And what can you not? The ever-changing winds of PTSD make those really hard questions to answer.
Eventually, I ended up at an appeal tribunal with my trusty housemate at my side. Despite arriving to discover the disability advocate didn’t show, I agreed to go ahead with a reduced panel. After months of build up, I couldn’t go home that day without a decision. The independent doctor and judge reviewed my evidence and asked all their questions. I took several breaks to cry on my friend’s shoulder in the corridor.
And after all that, they awarded me PIP at the enhanced rate for both components.
The process left me with painful scars though. Those scars are being torn open again with the denial of my universal credit claim. I’m left feeling ashamed and dehumanised once more. And every government spokesperson I hear speak on the cuts pours ever more salt on the wound.
We mustn’t accept these cuts as a reality
Whilst PIP came through for me in the end, the proposed changes will make it harder for others. And for me when my reassessment comes round. By raising the points threshold for receiving support, DWP will force even more disabled people to fight through the appeal process. With even less likelihood of receiving support at the end.
The truth is these cuts will kill people, and disable people further.
In many ways the national news has compounded the despair I feel at my own rejected claim. I feel angry and hurt and increasingly hopeless about the future as a disabled person in this country.
Every assessment question is an attempt to catch you out rather than a genuine enquiry into your support needs
At the same time, there couldn’t be a better week for not feeling alone in these feelings. I’ve been buoyed by a sense of solidarity watching other . I’ve felt held in my rage and in my grief, and that makes it a little easier to bear. I guess that’s why I decided to write something today. To pay that feeling forward. And to make a plea for more people to resist.
These £5 billion welfare cuts are still just a proposal and that means there is time to fight this. They’re counting on the fact that many of us will struggle to show up. So if you’ve read this far and are UK-based, especially if you are not disabled, we really need your support. , write to your MP, respond to . And talk about this with the people in your life.
You may not be disabled today, but anyone could be tomorrow. These cuts hurt all of us. We deserve better.
Notes
*. PIP at the enhanced rate amounts to less than 75% of that. And whilst it’s not enough to live off without universal credit, I am grateful to have it. For the past year it has covered the cost of specialist trauma therapy, numerous taxis, grocery deliveries, medications and holistic therapies to ease my PTSD and chronic pain. These things all make a major difference to my quality of life. Take them all away and I may never get back to work full time.
**If you’ve never dissociated before, this may sound strange, but sensations like this are a well-documented trauma response. Our brain disconnects from our body to protect us from danger. For me it feels like going numb and light-headed, and like I’m watching myself from outside my body. This can happen to me even mid-conversation. It feels like I’m watching a different me perform, whilst I sit in the background cringing and trying to keep panic at bay.
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