here I am, trying to break that cycle of trauma for my children while also knowing I'm probably still gonna eff my kids up either way. Just hopefully in a less emotionally damaging way. Because the systems I'm trapped by prevent me from giving my children my whole, as they deserve. In a way I sometimes wonder if covid is a blessing. Not in how it's hurt people, I hate how many people have died that could have easily been avoided, but I mean in that it's drawn attention to the failings of the welfare systems that are supposed to protect all the citizens of our country. Yet in reality only protects the very few while oppressing the majority. So much talent wasted. So many lives, over generations, damaged. It could have been prevented. My story is a sad one. I try to be optimistic but I'm not very good at it some days. I hate how my parents were treated by the village that supposedly raised them. So many tragedies I can't get into in this post, I've already gone on too long. And yet we're part of the lucky lower classes, so many more people have suffered worse than we have within a country that claims to be leading global role models. It's mind boggling. And it's sad. And it's infuriating. And it feels hopeless. To see people suffering. To hear their fear and anger and anguish when they tell their stories (like the other participants in this study). Yet I think that pain that they experience and share is why I think we do have a little hope
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Covid Realities
is a collaboration between the Universities of
York and Birmingham, and
Child Poverty Action Group. The project has been funded by the Nuffield Foundation
but the views on this site are those of the project team and not necessarily the Foundation.
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