The stress caused by welfare reform flip-flopping left me feeling sick

Watching coverage of the Labour Government’s benefits bill vote on Tuesday evening, I found myself with my head in my hands.

After so many U-turns, I was staring at the screen in bewilderment, while worriedly going back and forth messaging with friends.

‘The ayes to the right: 335. The noes to the left: 260,’ the senior Deputy Speaker of the House of Commons, Nusrat Ghani, confirmed. ‘The ayes have it.’

So what did we get in the end?

In a late climbdown – after months of debilitating debate and just as MPs prepared to vote – Keir Starmer’s Government paused plans to restrict eligibility for Personal Independence Payment (PIP) until after a review of the benefit.

This U-turn was announced just 90 minutes before MPs were due to vote.

The date for the review – which is reportedly due to conclude by Autumn 2026 – will leave uncertain the details of what those changes will be. But it should be clear that proposed changes to Universal Credit remain, which will raise the standard allowance while halving the health benefits for most new claimants from April 2026.

I believe that the stress and uncertainty of the last few months have worsened my condition, making my disability symptoms more debilitating.

I couldn’t sleep due to worry, and my brain felt like it ached from how nervous I was. I had a constant lump in my throat, inundated with stories from other disabled people about their fears.

I knew I needed certain things to survive and I fretted about whether I’d be able to afford my wheelchair. About if I’d end up without it, trapped and stripped of my independence.

The idea, announced last week, of a two-tier benefits system — where new claimants wouldn’t get the same support — was my own personal lowest point in the whole thing.

So how do I feel about Sir Keir Starmer making these concessions? That hot, sickening ache is relieved. But then the question: What was the point?

I’ve been living with disability since birth, after I had a stroke on the day I was born. As a result, I’m a wheelchair user and I rely on benefits like PIP to enable me to do a little work around my experiences with sickness.

They’ve been a lifeline for me – and many other disabled people I know.

So when the Government first announced its plans in March to reform disability benefits, I was immediately fearful. I worked out that it would have cut off my access to essential resources – funds that help me travel, attend doctors’ appointments, get personal care, and purchase a wheelchair that meets my needs.

Around the same time, I was asked to sign an open letter – alongside more than 100 people, including Liz Carr and Rosie Jones – criticising the proposed cuts. I didn’t hesitate to add my name to the list.

I am proud to stand staunchly with them. 

Then a glimmer of hope emerged.

Just weeks before the vote was due to go ahead, a growing number of rebel backbench Labour MPs started speaking out against their own party’s plans. I was thrilled.

But the toll it took on us was immense. Imagine not knowing for months if that will be ripped away from you. Imagine the constant, sickening ache in your gut that causes — what a way to live.

And now that it’s all over, my honest instinctive reaction was ‘as if?’

It is the oddest feeling to put your back into fighting something for months, only to see the other side fall apart right in front of your eyes in hours of live coverage. 

Whatever your thoughts on benefits and their reform, you have to acknowledge that Labour has put disabled people through it – for seemingly nothing. At least on PIP.

I honestly think Starmer should resign. I think he’s proven himself incapable of reading people and unable to see the damage he is inflicting. One thing he can’t say is that he wasn’t warned. 

And why did it take so long for them to consult disabled people?

It should be clear: PIP isn’t about being in or out of work — it’s about being able to live well. Many disabled people depend on it to keep working.

As disability charity Scope uncovered, disabled households need an extra £1,095 each month to have the same standard of living as non-disabled peers. 

I need it. So do many others.

These reforms may never happen, and the shock of relief has been overwhelming. But it has also exposed a hard truth: the welfare system does need reform because it doesn’t work with disabled people – it is something dreadful that happens to them.

We have to give the most intimate details of our lives. My starkest memory of being assessed is the question, ‘Can you actually walk, though?’ I felt as if I was under investigation for some elaborate, lifelong con. 

It is little wonder that disabled people feel they are unfairly treated. I look forward to what the Government ‘co-produces’ with disabled people and our organisations. It’s the only way forward.

Ultimately, I am thrilled that the concessions happened. But it is an odd beginning to Disability Pride Month, which started earlier this week.

We also have to acknowledge what this process has put disabled people through — and it says nothing good about the Government or the benefit system that is supposed to support us.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk. 

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