I hope this is at least close to the last time I have to write about my struggles in New York City's supportive housing. honestly though, i’m mostly proud of what I got done today, it’s almost like I learned something from some really horrible events in my past, and used them to make sure I stand up for myself.
I’m really trying to utilize the appropriate channels at my supportive housing agency about the fact that my apartment (outside of my room) is a fresh compost pile, ripe with insects and vermin and it smells like a pig farm. I also think they should make it so the door to my room has a functioning lock, because the roommate who is responsible for the filth is also known for having sticky fingers (according to our other roommate).
If you want to get caught up on this recurring subject of my last week of blog posts:
https://evr0ck17.medium.com/i-am-not-the-one-a69e27dec32d
This morning, on the third day of the common areas being in squalor, I told the dirty, thieving, and mentally unstable roommate, who is not safe to be living independently that he needs to clean up after himself, or i’m going to make his life very difficult. Since he made no effort to clean up his mess, I made the decision that either i’m going to send this guy back to a higher level of care, or i’m going to be moving somewhere else. Either way, I am not having it, I am not going to accept this as my living situation, when my mental health is on the line. It has too many similarities to my Flatbush, Brooklyn Roommate, Antonio who attacked me with a cheap steak knife.
this story should give you a good idea of why living with someone who cant take care of themselves is eliciting a trauma response from me:
So, I spent the day calling TSINY, the agency in charge of a bunch of supportive housing apartments in Queens, including mine. At the end of all of the calls, I sort of felt like I was getting bullshit from them, but they did say one of their staff needed me to sign a few documents. This woman came, and was expecting me to come down to her car and sign them, and then she would be on her merry way. I told her that she needs to come and see the condition of this apartment for herself, or its time I start talking to the department of mental health about the neglect of Robin’s care needs (the crazy guy), the department of housing about the lack of security on my personal quarters (which I have a right to) and the department of health about the insect and likely rodent infestation. She decided to come inside with her phone video camera, and she was mortified by the conditions. She, especially his personal room which looks like an episode the show “Hoarders”. She kept saying “Robin, this is unacceptable, you cant live like this!”
She said that she was bringing the video back to her supervisors at the office, and either they were going to get me out of here as soon as possible, or get Robin out.
I have been through too much to just let this fly, there should have been a warning about how fucked up this apartment is, I would have stayed where I was, steering clear of the drug dealers and putting up with the fussy landlord downstairs.
I will admit, though, in what was not my finest moment, I said that if anything else of mine goes missing that i’m going to break this man’s jaw… but c’mon, tensions run high with something like this, given my past with fucked up roommates. whether I could physically manage to break his jaw aside, I can’t say that I wouldn’t hit this guy if I were at that level of stress and agitation. All the more reason to separate us, all the more reason that this is not a sustainable or healthy place for me.
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