I am so happy and thankful for having the women’s shelter and the help I received there. I got help in getting this affordable apartment, throughout the appointment and during the application and waiting process, and I still go back to the shelter for therapy.
Still living there was a difficult and challenging experience, over and over. I’m sure it would be for anyone. I’m sure that it was for everyone there.
I was in a room with three other roommates, two of whom were invasive, hateful bitches who snored loudly, literally like pigs, keeping me awake and further sleep deprived the whole time I was there.
There were several other horrific women there who were mean and hateful to me. They triggered me a lot. I was afraid and anxiety-ridden the whole time that I was there. I tried to be nice, at all times, to be respectful and to stay out of other people’s business. I wasn’t always.
Still I found several women to connect with. And out of those I formed two friendships while there. I loved them and still do. They went on to their own places and for that I am deeply pleased and thankful. I still send them Reiki and think of them and hope for the best, want the best, and believe the best of them and for them. I treasure them in my heart.
None of them, I was sure, were having the best day of their lives, their month, or even their week while living there. I know I wasn’t either.
After only a few minutes of meeting and interacting with my advocate there, I told her, I love you. And I surely meant it. And I still feel it and mean it.
I found myself shocked, horrified, and appalled that I had unconsciously bonded to her as though she were my mother, certainly wishing that she were my mother.
I wish that I had a mother who was as nice to me, as loving and kind as she has been to me. My life would have been so full of love and happiness by comparison. But I have her now and I can talk to her and ask her for advice and that is wonderful, even though at times I feel like a very small child when interacting with her, like a newborn wishing and wanting her to be my mommy. Still I try to not project that onto our interactions, try to act like an adult, instead of a babe, which is how I feel.
I met my therapist there, while living at the shelter. She is so good and so calm and so gentle. Quite the opposite of my mother. It is so healing to just be in a room with her. She is such an amazing gift. I’ve seen lots of therapists over the years and realized recently that she is the best therapist I have ever seen. Well they were all pretty awful, but even the best of the worst were not so good, so healing, nor so ethical or competent at their jobs as she is. I have a sneaking suspicion that even if I had seen a dozen previous great therapist she would still be on the top of the heap.
I think that God must love me very very much to give me these two wonderful women.
I don’t think I can ever thank them enough or ever tell them so that they understand how much of a positive impact the shelter has had on my daily life since then. So I guess the shelter was my best roommates of all time.
Every day I am so thankful, so grateful that I don’t have to put up with anyone else’s shit and can have my own home and don’t have to share it with anyone else.
I keep my place at the temperature I want. I sleep when I want. I do what I want. I go out when I can and want to. I watch the shows that I want and the listen to the music that I want. I don’t have to listen to anyone else’s stuff or put up with anyone else’s disturbances and drama queen shit. Yesterday was a good day. Today was a good day. And tomorrow is going to be a good day too! So happy to live alone.
If I had only known a glimmer of what moving to live with someone would have cost me financially in the last six years, I never would have done it. The turmoil, the abuse, the horribleness of others, the homelessness and destitution it all drove me to eventually. It was horrific. I wish that I had that money now. I wish that I had been able to sleep properly through all that time.
And still not one of those days were the worst day of my life, not by a long shot. Not even in the top 13,000 worst days of my life. A nice effort on their parts, but zzzz, no, not as bad as my childhood, not as bad as being in love with a verbal, emotional abuser mind fucker, not as bad as living with my mother, not as bad as any day in my childhood. Sorry, thanks for playing, but your lazy ass abuser shit just doesn’t compare and for that I really have to judge you for it, loser.
In the end, I’m the best roommate I’ve ever had. I really love that about me. I really really love me. 🙂