Wednesday, 18 May 2011

Postal Panic

Former stand up comedian, youth counsellor and advocate of social emotional learning Michael Pritchard once said, "Fear is that little darkroom where negatives are developed" and as a result of my ongoing experiences at the hands of the banks, my fear is now fully developed into an all encompassing and completely involuntary negative reaction whenever I catch sight of our postman.

Frequently terrified to the core at a mere glimpse of a Royal Mail van outside my house, the feeling of utter defenselessness has been further heightened now I have been advised by the Citizen’s Advice Bureau that their debt counselling budget for my case has been exhausted. Despite the fact that I rarely receive any correspondence I am unable to deal with these days, I seem to be incapable of allowing logic to suppress my panic. This is the price I am paying for attempting to deal direct with the banks following a financial demise which left my family without an income and homeless, and my husband with forty four defaulted credit cards, four defaulted mortgages and a substantial number of the irate tradesmen.

Initially, my daily mission was to speak or write in response to every letter received in the belief that taking action would be the antidote to the all consuming terror I felt at our hopeless financial position. Needless to say I got nowhere. At best the collections departments were sympathetic but all insisted they had no means of communicating with the decision makers within their own organisations and as a result their hands were tied. The postal persecution continued. Forty letters a day advised me I had ignored all previous attempts to communicate, bailiffs would be calling to assess my assets and doorstep collection agents were imminent. The notification of court cases pending were too numerous to even warrant separate files. Despite constantly communicating with each and every one of them the heartless harassment continues and repeatedly trying to resolve the seemingly unresolvable cost me my hair and my health.
Today, thankfully, my postman brought only good news yet the short term relief from a single day of respite remains blighted by the knowledge that tomorrow my fears of further threats will probably be justified. Persecution by post has consumed my life, my health and my marriage and now, in addition to living with the horrors of a million pounds of unresolvable debt I also fear, if the banks continue to have their way, postal panic is not a condition I will ever be allowed to recover from.

I hope and pray I am wrong.

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