Cost of living grants need to be brought back as a temporary measure. When we are having to choose between taking the kids to the park and staying cool at home during the rest of the day because both the price of fuel and energy is going up, and disabled families in particular are being hardest hit (we have a diesel wheelchair accessible vehicle, which isn’t incredibly efficient, but is the only way for us to get around, and 3 members of the family can’t regulate their temperature easily so fans are essential).

Very hot weather, and the dreaded 6 weeks holiday coming up, I should be looking forward to it to spend time with my child but the reality is I still have to work and spend a fortune on child care, try and plan some days out, get my car mot’d and serviced, the issue is I have no money for any of those things.

We are not balancing we are getting further into debt to try and survive

I need both. Am struggling right now can't wait years for change. We need practical support today to help with food, housing, energy bills, and the rising cost of living.

We also need long-term policy changes that tackle the root causes of poverty.

For me the best approach is to do both at the same time

I was speaking to a friend this week about the impact of the increased cost of everything on our lives. We are both single parents and have in the past needed to support each other with basics such as food. Neither of us use universal credit as it seems to disadvantage people who are self employed. Of course people who live with illness, mental health challenges and disability are often self employed as it represents some sort of flexibility around health. She was telling me how even this time last year she was able to attend at least one dog show per month, as this is her passion. She said that food, electric, water, council tax, fuel, everything has increased in price so much that now she can't do that. Her income has not changed but it has also not increased inline with the rising costs of everything we need to live. It is a similar story for me. My private rent is the highest it has ever been, I ration, food, travel and everything. My daughter leaves for university this year, I will then be able to ration more as there are some things that are hard not to prioritise for your children. My finances will also shift at this stage as, when she leaves some financial support will also leave. I cannot remember ever being in such poverty and under such financial threat. It honestly feels like such an urgent emergency. People are cutting back on things they never thought they would need to. I can't remember the last time I bought any new clothes. I need new shoes but I can't afford that. I buy nothing for my home, I haven't been on holiday, I can't leave my isolated county unless it is for work and fuel is included. It's a very small shrunken, scary world.

With extreme difficulty! As a neurodivergent person, patience is an every day struggle. As a poor, threatened with homelessness, awaiting nhs treatment, awaiting a PIP tribunal, awaiting DLA news person who is struggling, every news article about the cost of living or the send crisis or the housing crisis or the mess of adult adhd services on the nhs, they feel like reading about my life. Over and over again. And when wait times are in years? It's hard to not feel like it's very wrong. It's hard to have hope that the system actually wants to help. It's very hard to believe policy changes anything. I vote, I stay aware, I read and I balance my rage with therapy and trying to do what I can through volunteering and lending a listening ear to others struggling too. But it's hard. As the government wheels out another man who promises the world amidst the limitations of the system we built, I wonder if it will make any difference. And if I'm honest? I'm not sure I have much hope that it will.

A weekend of waiting.

I honestly don’t think I’ve ever spent so much time refreshing a housing website in my life.

Friday night: 71 bids. Still number 1.

Saturday morning: 73 bids. Still number 1.

Then 77. 80. 82. 83. 86. 87. 89. 90.

Every time I checked I had that horrible mix of dread and hope. Like maybe this time someone would have overtaken me. Maybe I’d dropped down the list. Maybe the whole thing would disappear like the previous property that fell apart after years of bidding and getting to the offer stage, only for it to collapse during verification and then somehow I ended up removed from that housing list completely.

No wonder I'm struggling to hope this will amount to finally having a home.

I’ve spent the whole weekend trying to imagine this house. A home. A garden where my child could finally have a trampoline. Somewhere stable. Somewhere we don’t have to keep moving at the whim of a private landlords decisions. Somewhere I don’t feel like I’m living on borrowed time. Somewhere I can potentially afford and not struggle to cover the rent in.

I drove past the road on Sunday and started worrying. What if I hate it? What if it’s too suburban? What if I get it and the housing association are awful and I’ve escaped one mouldy house only to end up in another? What if the house isn’t even empty yet and the wait time is too long and I have to go into temporary accommodation? What if it needs loads of work? What if i fail this verification process?

Too many unknowns, and with an adhd brain every "what if" is a loud channel of distraction, with equal volume to all others. The loudness of uncertainty has been debilitating ever since the eviction notice was delivered.

I’ve also been thinking about the other people bidding. How desperate are they? How many people are sitting somewhere else refreshing the page, hoping, worrying, waiting? It feels awful that housing has become this competitive, stressful game where people have to prove they’re the one who deserves somewhere to live.

And then there’s everything else I’m waiting on.

The housing situation.

The Ombudsman case.

The PIP tribunal.

My child’s DLA benefits decision.

Important career affecting certificates to be processed.

The potential of starting with a new therapist tomorrow.

Selling the car.

Refunds after messing up an online transaction.

Access to an nhs dentist appointment, that feels like some mythical thing to expect these days.

It’s ridiculous when I list it all out. It feels like my whole life is stuck in admin queues.

Sunday I barely slept. It was hot. My body hurt. I was socially hungover from actually going out and having a life for once, and then I felt guilty because I was tired and my kid had some extra tv time that day.

Monday morning I woke up exhausted and checked the website. Still number 1. One more day to go. Bidding closes at midnight.

I had to get my child to her home ed activities while feeling sick with stressed. I had activities to taxi between, meals to make, cats to feed, rooms to clean, paperwork, the mother load and housing stress to contend with. Everything felt like too much.

And now? It's Tuesday morning. Bidding closed.

I checked again.

Still number 1.

I'm sat waiting for a call or an email or some sort of update, unable to focus properly, trying to distract myself but also unable to stop thinking about the phone ringing.

I talked myself into staying nearby when dropping my daughter off today, rather than driving home and back again, because fuel costs are ridiculous, every journey adds up, and if I can find a free place to park I can wait/work in the van. I also downloaded a cheesy romcom on Netflix because something predictable and low key to engage with felt needed to stop the cogs whirring. Surprisingly, it actually worked. For a little while I wasn’t thinking about housing.

That’s where I’m at.

Tuesday afternoon.

The bidding has ended.

90 bids.

And I’m still number 1.

Which is amazing. And terrifying.

Because now the waiting is different. Before I was waiting to see if I’d stay at the top. Now I’m waiting to see if being at the top actually means anything.

I’m wondering who to call. If I should call. If I should just wait. If the housing officer knows anything more than I do. If the housing team know. If the landlord knows.

Why do these systems work like this?

Why, when someone is facing eviction and uncertainty and potentially homelessness, does everything still move through slow, bureaucratic processes? Why isn’t there more urgency? Why does the person whose entire future depends on an outcome have to sit quietly and wait for someone else to press a button or make a phone call?

More waiting.

More uncertainty.

More stress.

The housing crisis plods on.

Sat here with no electric as its just ran out. Wasn't too worried but then there's a knock at the door and my daughter has ordered her and her boyfriend dominoes whilst I'm sat here with no electric. Not sure how I'm feeling about it. She is quite entitled to spend her money on what she likes however they use the electric and don't contribute to the bills. What to do in this situation? I guess we wait and see who wants the electric back on first. Won't be me as I'm fine being poor. It's summer no heating needs to be on. After my daughter's complete disgust at coming from a poor background I am kind of hoping this will maybe remind her how lucky she is to be escaping rather than how unlucky she is to have come from a poor background.

Applied to rent this house from Aberdeenshire Council

I need if a miracle to be offered it

We try to save some money from the petty cash for urgent need. In this living crisis we couldn't save that much but rely on friends and family & credit card to lend some to cover up the short period of time in this difficult situation.

I dont even know how to write this. So from Friday to the early hours of Monday I have been on a trip to Cumbria. 21 hours up on the bus and luckily 10 hours back on the bus and the rest by car as my lovely dad picked us up half way home.

There is alot to say about poverty meeting a better class.

Firstly everything was so expensive. At one point I had to buy a small bottle of drink for £2.50. I then didn't drink anything whilst on the bus journey so I didn't use the toilet on the bus once. At one of the bus stations it cost 30p for a wee! Crap I can't even afford to go toilet so maybe it's a good thing I. Ant afford more drink.

There was also the expectations of my daughter who I was taking to visit her Open Day University event. One bus station only had a Starbucks. So 2 drinks, a croissant and a cheese and ham toasty came to £20. I could have cried. I are my toasty with a feeling of sickness, all of me wanting to return it for a refund. I ate it with hatred. Outside of this same bus station were 2 homeless guys who had slept outside. Through the window I could see the security guard hassling them to move on. They packed up and then when the security guard was looking away 1 of them came in to Starbucks where the lady behind the till filled his refillable coffee cup with ice for FREE. I don't disagree with this. It costs nothing to be kind so it made me feel mildly less bitter about eating the toastie. Meanwhile the other homeless guy was squashing his sleeping bag and shoes into a gap between the Starbucks window and the pillar in front of the bus station. I understand why. He has nothing but these small items and he has nowhere safe to put them. The security guard only doing his job that he probably needs to feed his family went put and removed them. I wish I had asked him how he felt about what he was doing to the homeless guy but I was in a strange world caught between the rich and poor. My daughter is already showing signs that she is ashamed of her background. Even though it's cost us £700 to get touni and back (this includes main bus journeys, overnight stay for 2 nights at a b&b with breakfast) it has cost over £200 for food. I just want to cry but what good will that do? --- My daughter is being so horrid at the moment and while away she acted like she was ashamed of me. She didn't choose to sit with me on transport, waited a fair distance away at the bus stops and I kept being told to do less complaining. She was even saying nasty lies when we got home. Apparently I "Karen'd" some teens on the bus which wasn't true and then she started laughing when I got tipped out of my wheelchair. This isn't my daughter this is an imposter.

Ever since she has been able to earn her own money and spend it (rather recklessly) she has been different. At first she offered me some money for electric and picked up milk and bread etc from the shop when needed but now she is acting resentful, avoiding us. She has also removed a ton of her good old school friends from her social apps even thought some of these she still talks to. Having spoken to my dear friend she has experienced this class shame with 2 of her 3 children who have gone to university from a poor background. Not once did I ever predict that she would need to transition from.one class to another and reject us her family. She currently won't talk to me. Where is the caution warning that being poor may cause you to become so ashamed of your past and family when you suddenly improve your life? I wasn't brought up this way, I was always brought up to believe that we are all in this together. If one of us improves their life its something that will improve all of us in some way. Not this absolute destruction

The difficulty we have with society is it is driven work oriented people who are in the position to make the decision they have not experienced the disability of not being physically able to work the stigma of young people making bad choices in trauma that follow them throughout life individuals who have never lived in the real struggle of life making decisions that impact harshly on those who do not hold a voice in power is exactly why the rich get richer and those in poverty starve and struggle until the people whos lives are at the bottom of the pecking order are the ones we try to lift there will always be a wealth divide