My sick living environment!

 

It is September 2024. I have been living in this same apartment for almost three years. During those three years, I kept myself employed for two and a half of them. I was becoming very successful at the hospital where I worked. I developed a great rapport with almost all the patients and made some really good friends with some outstanding coworkers. A lot of the other staff would treat me as if I was more than just a psych tech, for sure. I would go to work every morning with a positive attitude and great energy that I loved to share with others. Constantly, I was trying to make others feel super worthy and appreciated for working alongside me. Administration at the hospital noted the potential that I exhibited and offered me new opportunities. So, when I started working at the hospital, I was actually homeless, sleeping in our local cold weather shelter. I was the only person staying at the shelter at that time. I had proven myself so trustworthy that I was even given my own key to come and go as I pleased. After I earned a couple of checks, I made the decision reluctantly located a one-and-a-half-bedroom apartment. The rent was $525 a month, and that was well within my budget. I decision to rent the apartment. I had to have a physical address to continue working at the hospital. When I moved new apartment, I think I brought in a bag of clothes, and that was it. I walked into my new apartment with great fear, knowing for a fact that I would never be able to maintain it. Finally having an apartment and being off the streets told me that I was in big trouble. I don't think I have ever been taught the proper way to manage any sort of independent living for myself. The only thing I knew is that I had to pay my landlord every month so that I could have an address for my employer. I absolutely did not want to lose this newfound employment. Along with the rent, I was responsible for the utility bills every month. I was completely overwhelmed and shocked by this new lifestyle. I loved my job, and that's the only reason I was doing this. I did not understand the importance of adult daily living skills. I was completely irresponsible and had no business having an apartment of my own at all. Budgeting money was extremely difficult for me to comprehend due to my mental illness and my trauma-impacted thought process. Because of food insecurities growing up, I would never bring any food into my apartment, at least not planned-out nutritious meals. I might have brought home enough for one night. That usually consisted of a pack of bologna, a loaf of bread, and some cheese. Because of my trauma, I did not believe that I deserved to be clean. I would bathe once every three weeks, if that. I possess no self-care skills. Self-hygiene was something that I was taught I should never have. I found that with my income from the hospital, paying my rent would not be an issue. I also have to pay all utilities, and I've never done that before. I recreated experiencing homelessness within the walls of my apartment. I would very rarely use any electricity. I never turned on my lights. My electric bill averaged $8 a month. My water usage was the same way. I bathed maybe once a month with about five gallons of water. I was looking at $12 to $16 water bills. The one thing that I did use electricity for was my coffee pot. Again, my trauma-impacted brain made me believe that I would be punished if I utilized any of the utilities. After about three months of attempting to live on my own with no sort of life coach or guidance from anyone, my apartment became extremely filthy and completely unsanitary. I did not ever do any of my laundry. I would go and buy new clothes for work so that I was able to maintain a good appearance, especially because I was becoming well-liked at work. Because of my untreated mental illnesses, severe trauma, and new diagnosis of ADHD, I absolutely could not manage proper upkeep of my apartment. I had a cousin who came in to clean it for me. I paid her $300, and she spent all day cleaning my apartment while I was at work. When I returned home, she still was not finished. After she left to go home, I was right back at it, recreating homelessness inside of a dwelling—the lifestyle that I had become so familiar with in all those years. I did not care about my personal safety, physical health, hygiene, or any part of trying to create a quality lifestyle for myself. I just did not believe in myself enough to practice any self-care. This happened the entire time that I worked at the hospital. I knew every day that I left work, my next destination was complete filth, darkness, and unmanageable pain. Complete darkness, depression, shame, guilt, and great fear consumed me every time I clocked out, not to mention the complete fear of someone showing up at my apartment. If I ever had to open my door for somebody I did not know, I do not know how I would have reacted, all because I was handed keys to an apartment that I absolutely had no chance in this world of maintaining. It would never become a home for me, and I knew that from day one. I took photos about every three months to document my living conditions. It was my hope that one day my lived experience would be the foundation for others to succeed. I wanted people to better understand what it was like to be thrown to the hungry wolves with your hands tied. These photos would serve as an example that some people are truly not happy. In my case, I never had a positive, loving, educated, and charismatic childhood. I'm sure many others are affected in the same way. Any person at any given time that is standing next to you, exhibiting a happy, beautiful soul, could truly be a horribly tormented soul praying for your help. They're actually looking for any positive, encouraging words that can help reduce their internal pain. Every single day, I woke up in pain. I woke up experiencing nothing but complete fear. I woke up with prayers that someone who doesn't judge would help me—show me how to have a healthy lifestyle—all because of the stigma and stereotypes people like myself will never ask for help. The entire time I worked at the hospital, I lived in an apartment that was not fit for a family of rabid New York rats, to be honest. I ended up living this way for two and a half years. The entire time that I was employed at the hospital, I never once considered ever having any kind of company come to visit. That totally affected my personal life. I would never be able to pursue romance. There was no way I could think about dating, and that trickled down to all the hobbies that I had. I did not and could not enjoy any of my hobbies any longer. I would have to call off work because I could not find clean enough clothes to wear. I would call off because I knew I needed to bathe so badly but was just too afraid to do it. I would call off because my trauma-impacted brain told me that my coworkers knew how I lived. I would call off occasionally just to punish myself for living this way. I would lie down in complete garbage and allow bugs to crawl all over me. On May 5, 2024, I was terminated from my job. So, I guess honestly, it boils down to the fact that the reason I lost my job was my lifestyle—something that could have been a very simple fix if it were not for stigma and stereotypes. Something as simple as adult daily living skills and responsibilities crippled me. During the time I have lived here, I have paid people three or maybe four more times hundreds of dollars to come in and attempt to make it presentable. It ended up costing me a couple of thousand dollars to hire people to cover my ass. Who knows what it has really cost me now that I am unemployed. I can't say that I am or ever have been suicidal. I can feel the same pain that people experience in their life but unfortunately causes them to take their own life. Sometimes it is so unimaginable that they just can't cope any longer. Last month, I started to clean my apartment all by myself. The landlord found out what was living [there] from the exterminator who randomly came to spray for bugs. I removed 65 bags of trash and garbage from a one-bedroom apartment. I'm still working on it to this day. My landlord came and used the word "eviction" if I could not maintain his property. I've never been lazy; I am a great worker. Unfortunately, not being lazy and being a hard worker does not help me at all. If I do get evicted but get the opportunity to live one month like a normal human, I would not treat myself to that luxury. We are around people every single day of our lives who are living in a situation similar to mine. Be nice to everyone. You never know what you are really doing for someone like me when you tell me something positive about myself. I would imagine that some of the kindness and some of the positivity shared with me has kept me alive. It only takes a couple of minutes to check on someone. Just tell them hello and let them know they are cared about. It takes way less energy to care for someone than it does to shut them out and persecute them. And damn it! Some of us could have learned some life skills and still have a career with the sky being the limit. Remember, I was out there receiving multiple awards, I saved a man's life, I was changing lives, and I became very well respected in my community. I guess being a public figure is how I hid my unimaginable pain from all of those around me.