I'm a Frickin' Adult!

Tomorrow it will have been one week since I moved into my own place.

"My own" is kind of stretching it: I'm renting a room in someone's house. HOWEVER, and it's a big "however," I am no longer under the auspices of the housing agency that was my source of shelter for the last 4.5 years. No more staff checking up or checking in, no more ridiculous rules about incense and candles, no more hypersensitive smoke alarms that go off in the middle of the night if the shower creates too much steam, no more making my kids drive home late on a Saturday night because they're not allowed to stay over.

I had mixed feelings, of course, about leaving. After all, I'd finally made the decision to break my own rule about not getting romantically involved with housemates - the heart wants what the heart wants - and started a relationship that I'd been thinking about (and talking myself out of) for a couple of years. Granted, most people don't live with each other BEFORE they start dating, but what are you gonna do? It was great having the person I'm in love with right across the hall. So there was that whole emotional mess to sort out.

And then there's the "rules" situation. Because yes, I hate rules and yes, I have an insane urge to break them whenever I'm pushed. But there was also the safety net situation. I knew that, even though I rarely called, I could contact my counselor or supervisor if something happened, and it would get fixed. Which made me lazy, I'm not gonna lie. I mean, why do it yourself when for 4 years someone else has been doing it for you, and probably better than you could anyway? I knew I wasn't gonna starve, or have to go without the essentials. I knew I'd get my benefits every month on the first, and that if I missed a few hours of work time here and there, it wouldn't be a catastrophe. I had security. I wasn't in any way acting like the adult I was capable of being, of course, but it was comfortable. Even dealing with the other housemate was tolerable, despite grave differences in our approach to things like hygiene and honesty.

But in reality, what I was really doing was taking up space. Because I don't need that kind of supervision and, if I'm being perfectly honest, I haven't in quite some time. I was complacent, but there are people out there who really DO need that level of care, and while my ass was sitting in that house, someone who needed to be there was sitting in a shelter or a hospital waiting for me to get my shit together and go do what I'm capable of doing.

It would have been easier if I'd had more than 30 days to find a place I could afford, and if I had serious work lined up before I jumped ship. But, because of my rebellious streak and my inability to just do what I'm told for more than a couple of weeks, that was not an option. So I freaked out a little, then I freaked out a lot, then I put my head down and started doing the work. I'm fortunate to have a friend who has been throwing me work referrals, as well as work for her own company, so that's slowly coming together. I've been begging and borrowing, taking full advantage of people with cars, and venting whenever someone slowed down enough to let me (sorry, you guys).

And now, here I am. I'm back to worrying about everything, all the time, and it's scary as hell. I'm not even kidding. The first couple of days it was like a little vacation (despite the fact that I've been working non-stop since I got my keys, sitting in the midst of towers of boxes). The freedom to come and go was so refreshing, it was like my parents had gone away for the weekend and left me in charge.

But that expression about reality hitting you like a ton of bricks is no joke. It's only the 8th of the month and I am out of food stamps. I had to buy all of the basics I always have in my cabinets, like flour and salt, and there's no discount grocery down the block for me to go to. So, Stop & Shop it is and, even with the card, they're twice as expensive as Aldi, although the food, especially meat and produce, is much better.

I can't walk anywhere, which means I have to take the bus, which is $2.50 each way. Not that big a deal, right? Not really. Except that I had to miss two days of work last week because of the move and the concommitant internet service interruptions, so I didn't get a check on Friday. So in addition to not being able to get anywhere, I wouldn't have money to buy the stuff I needed even if I could get there. 

I'm worried about other stuff, too. Like making sure Social Security has the right address and makes me my own representative payee, something that should have been addressed before I left but wasn't. I have to go down there and do it, which isn't a huge deal, but it is when you can't get there (that damn bus fare again). And making sure that Medicaid and the food stamp people have the right information. Because if I don't get all of this done, this week, I'm gonna be sitting here on the first with no way to pay my rent. As it is I'm gonna be sitting here the rest of the month foraging for dinner in the backyard and hoping those mushrooms aren't poisonous. And possibly doing my laundry by beating it against a rock in the stream in the woods behind the house. 

I also have no sheets, no dresser, and OH MY GOD no coffee maker or television (although my lovely daughter tells me that they have one of each that I can borrow). I'm a bed linen freak, and I had to borrow queen sized sheets from one of the other women, so I only have one set, and that's a problem for someone with OCD. I like to change my sheets at LEAST every other day. I realize that's insane. It's still a thing with me. And I have all of my clothes stacked in plastic bins, which are also doubling as tables, so getting dressed in the morning, and changing in the evening, is suddenly a challenge.

Despite all of this, though, I'm content. I have a place now where, when I close the door, it's mine alone. I can work, or read, or sit and stare out the window (well, maybe one of these days I'll have time for that) and I don't have to worry about anyone barging in and asking to see what's in my closet or how many meds I have. I am husting my ass off to find enough work to get me through, and I have absolute faith that, despite a few bumps here and there, I will be able to take care of myself. I have an amazingly supportive boyfriend, wonderful friends who are always there for me, and the best kids in the world.

In the meantime, if y'all want to donate stuff, I'd be more than happy to take it off your hands. I need everything: queen size bedding, a dresser, a desk, lamps.....everything. Message or email me and I'll send you my address. I would also be hugely grateful for any cash donations, either through PayPal or Facebook Messenger Payments. I briefly started a Fundrazr, but they (along with GoFundMe and Facebook Fundraising) eat a significant percentage of donations. So my PayPal is available through the button that follows, or you can always just shoot it through messenger.

But the most important thing is your support, and I know I've always got that. Thank you all for allowing me to vent my crazy, and for being so ready to listen to me and to help. There is no way I will ever be able to repay the kindness of my friends, but I hope you know how much I appreciate it. I got this far because of all of you; in a few more weeks, I'll be standing on solid ground, and that will also be because of you.