**A Lifetime Benefit, Until It Wasn't: My Experience with Disability Support in the UK**

There’s a lot of noise right now about welfare—particularly around the financial support disabled people receive. The idea that it costs more to live with a disability isn’t up for debate; it’s a reality. But the conversation around it keeps stirring controversy. having all this controversy in the news is embarrassing for didabled peopele

Back in the 1990s, a social worker encouraged me to apply for Disability Living Allowance (DLA). At the time I thought, “Why not?” To my surprise, I was awarded it. DLA came in two parts: the mobility component and the care component. Each had different levels of support depending on the severity of one’s condition. I received the lowest rates, which was what was available to me then.

Over time, I met others in similar situations who received more support than I did. But as the years passed and I became increasingly dependent on that money, I grew too anxious to reapply. I didn’t want to risk losing what I had. I also had (and still have) a deep distrust of the Department for Work and Pensions—though it probably went by a different name back then.

Eventually, I received a letter: my DLA was awarded for life. That was a small but meaningful relief—one less thing to worry about in a life that didn’t come with many certainties.

DLA was introduced by a Labour government. I didn’t ask for it, and neither did many others I knew. I’m not sure if it came about through campaigning or whether it was a stroke of political insight. Either way, I was—and still am—grateful for it.

Then came the Conservatives. After a few years of criticizing welfare costs, they replaced DLA with a new benefit: Personal Independence Payment (PIP). Despite having been granted DLA for life, my award was taken away. No warning. No apology. Just gone. I was told I would have to apply for PIP if I wanted any continued support.

Naturally, I applied—what else could I do? But the process was more invasive, more humiliating. I had to sit in front of a stranger and repeatedly explain what I couldn’t do. And even then, there was no certainty I’d receive anything. The criteria were tougher, the tone less humane. The irony of this was that if I had not received the DLA I would not have been dragged into a flase sense of security which opened me up for the abuse that applying for PIP  woudl subject me to.

Make no mistake: this was a cost-cutting exercise, plain and simple. And many disabled people lost their benefits because of it. We’re easy to target. Vulnerable. Less likely to fight back. It makes you wonder how disabled people cope in countries with fewer resources if this is how we’re treated here

The changes reportedly removed over 300,000 people from disability support. That number haunts me. Where did they go? How did they survive? You hope the ones who lost the benefit had not brcome too reliant on it.  It was cruel to make people reapply for the benefit as if they were being told that they had lied the first time about their didability.

Personally, holding down a decent job has always been difficult. But this benefit was never about employment. Still, there’s a growing myth that PIP is only for people out of work. That’s simply not true—and it misses the point entirely.

I filled in the Personal Independence Payment form, anxious from the start. The RNIB suggested I get someone from the DWP to help me complete it, which felt like asking a wolf to help with the sheep count—but I went along with it. A man came to my home, asked me the questions, and helped submit the form. I just wanted the money I’d relied on for years to continue under the new PIP system. I knew I wouldn’t get a lifetime award this time—not from the Tories.

He didn’t seem the sharpest tool in the box, but he submitted the form. Then came the face-to-face assessment with a so-called health professional. This was a far cry from the DLA system, which had felt—relatively speaking—like a gesture of goodwill. PIP made me feel like I had to earn my own truth. It was exhausting.

There seemed to be no continuity between DLA and PIP. If I didn’t apply, I’d lose £25 a week or more. But applying meant justifying every struggle, every weakness. I’d been encouraged to rely on this support and then punished for doing exactly that. It's hard enough to be disabled without being humiliated in your own home by people who treat you like a fraud.

When the assessor arrived, I expected an optometrist—my issue is with my eyesight. Instead, a nurse showed up. He waved some object around the room, asking if I could see it. It was ludicrous and demeaning. But I went along with it, because what choice did I have?

Later,I I came home to the dreaded envelope. My payment had been cut from £115 to £80 a month. I was upset. It felt like they thought I’d lied about my condition. I decided that maybe a doctor’s letter would speak louder than I could—that maybe they’d take a piece of paper more seriously than the person living the experience. So I went for a mandatory reconsideration.

There were tight deadlines. I had to act fast. I struggled to get to the surgery myself, but my sister kindly stepped in and collected the doctor’s letter in time. I submitted it just before the deadline.

What a difference from how things started. When I first applied for DLA, it was just a half-hour chat with a kind social worker in my living room. She helped me express what needed to be said, and it felt supportive. Now? The whole process feels hostile, as if the system has decided I’m an enemy of the state. “Funny how support can turn into punishment the moment it becomes inconvenient for those in charge.” Some might say this is the difference between the left and the right, but it’s a bit more nuanced than that.

Now, there’s been talk in the media that the new government is going to make people reapply for disability benefits, and this time it will be harder. There was a vote in parliament, and the government watered it down. I think we’ll be left alone for a while, but you know it won’t be long before things change again.