A housing search is exhausting. Every day you go over the same sources (if anyone has ideas here, I’ll take them), pounce on the new ads that come close to fitting your parameters, and write a thoughtful email or phone call to whatever is indicated. Wait (unless it was a phone call, you’re already out there, whether my case manager or me—we both see the pattern). Once a month there’s a open house or call-back, and you go. And then they know. But it’s so difficult to prove, if I hadn’t had a voucher since April and it’s July and I still don’t have an apartment. (My case manager says to try to catch them in person before calling or emailing, overcome that first impression.)
But each individual? Just doing what makes sense. Less paperwork. And would you want to live there, really?
I was contacted last Friday night to be told that my Grandmama was in hospice, and wasn’t expected to last the weekend. I couldn’t visit until Monday because that’s when they had staff to help with distracting her son (who had power of attorney, is my abuser, and couldn’t be told to leave). She passed yesterday early morning in her sleep. I got to visit.
But my case manager needed my signature. So I detoured to the city to sign the documents and ask a few questions about an email I got from one of the big housing companies (they want a Guarantor, and the answer was no, I can’t pay the 30% or 40% rate, my income is too low for this project). But my case manager was a bit worried about me, and that I would prioritize that after that, and by how much pressure work Sally was doing.
He came out and told me that if I went to that building (walkable, but it had a parking lot), there was a 24/7 Crisis Center, and they would talk to me. They were also attached to a housing grant office, if that made me more willing? My CM knows me, and I went. I talked and didn’t know where 2 hours had gone.
I’m thought I was going to be getting a PATH provider, it was in my discharge paperwork, but it turned out they didn’t have the funding. I really thought I had a chance, but now I feel like there’s no hope, because I’m stuck with the same old things I’ve been doing, that aren’t working.
Because I really, really can’t do this another winter. I’ll move first. Anywhere but where will make my asthma worse. Preferably somewhere with a decent social safety net I can hook into.
I don’t know what to do anymore. I used to believe family took care of each other.
I mean, I say I can’t handle another winter here. I really don’t think people grok that.
I washed bedding on the day of my grandmother’s wake, because that’s how much this won’t let me sit. I could be cleaning up the mess Sally made of the garbage, but I need to conserve my energy; I went to my hobby/apprenticeship and was sent home, not even allowed to oil bobbins.
I slept most of the day today too, and I had wanted to get things done. I’m just so tired.