Wee man not in nursery, the ibuprofen wasn't working. Feel guilty now. He's been a nightmare recently about nursery. He's happy when I pick him up but resists most of the way there. As for the essay, it might even be a fail. Not that bothered, I've the time now literature is over and the next module, is 'Minds and Bodies', Descartes, bring it on.
Think I should give my self a break from the structured stuff and just read and write about whatever I want. Use here more, tackle the old notes. No forces by big square brain into round holes.
Feeling better now though, might even put the washing out, or at least out of the washing machine anyway.
The more I think about the more justified I feel in attempting to claim disability. With the lawyer dudes help I will have a chance, certainly didn't on that form on my own. How many depressed people are able to be truely honest about how it effects their day to day living? As with the compensation claim though I don't like thinking about how much differnece a bit more money would make to my ability to look after myself and be the best mom I can to the wee homie. It's not fair, I hate all that work hard and anyone can achieve anything bollox, so they were lucky thats all. Lucky enough to not mind licking the right boots, lucky enough to be able to put career uber alles. Lucky enough to not be locked up, shot, raped, drugged, electroculated to an extent where they are unable to work all the way to the very top of systems that almost virtualy them. While most of the money on the world is just numbers being passed around, or just sitting there of no use to anyone.