No place like home – Stability, why a home matters.
09/16/2024
12:19 am
It is early Monday morning and I am still awake. Stressed and anxiety filled because of my current pending housing crisis.
A little backstory of how we got to this point.
During the month of July I had some higher than normal electric bills and was behind on my car payments. The car dealership had been working with me and I was making half payments to them. That was the arrangement with the understanding that I would need to start making full payments again at the end of July.
At that point we were surviving on my disability payments which are just enough to cover everything we needed. There was not much of a buffer if there was any emergencies. Then we had some car trouble again at the end plus the pending full payments.
My son started working again after looking for a job for over a year. He had gone through this EEOC complaint against his former employer and it hindered him finding employment. That was settled and he moved on, finally getting interviews again. He got hired at the end of July but his first pay checks would not begin until mid-August.
Knowing all of this was coming up, I contacted my apartment manager, informed her that I was going to be late with my August rent and gave her the date when I would make the payment. She seemed fine with it and we had a good rapport with one another over the last 3 years, or so I thought.
The day I was to make the payment, I found out I was locked out of making the payment online as I usually did and they required a money order or cashier’s check instead. As I was leaving to get the payment, I had a flat tire. It was close to the office’s closing time and then the manager left early that day. I had to take my car to get the tire repaired the next day. I apparently ran over a metal screw and that is why it went flat.
The eviction notice was filed the same day as the flat tire and posted on my door early the next morning when I went to get the tire fixed. I was a little upset but went ahead with my payment plan, got the money order but then the office manager refused to take it.
She wanted additional fees added to the amount. This is not how 5-day notices and Eviction notices work. It can only state the past due rent amount with the late fees. Any lawyer’s fees or filing fees are requested and added during the hearing process as a part of the judgment.
I informed the office manager of this and we went back and forth over it for two days. She still refused the payment and I picked up the money order.
In a panic, before the hearing, I took the funds from the money order and put in applications to other apartment complexes, caught up all the bills, and the car payment. This was in case I needed to make new deposits because, at that time, I did not know what the outcome of the hearing would be. The court could have given me two days to move out.
We went to the hearing on September 3rd and I was given until 9/19 to pay the original past due amount plus only a $100 lawyer fee. Fortunately, Legal Aide fought for me and got me until the 19th to pay up the amount or move.
It is the 16th of September and I have spent the last 13 days trying to get additional assistance from housing and veterans’ programs to pay the just the past due amount for August.
After my calculations for all our incoming funds, we received assistance from my son’s workplace, we can pay the now past due September rent and the pending October rent in addition to the past due August rent but not fully until the 27th of this month or we can have the money to move. The apartment manager is aware of the date of payment and agreed to it.
I am in limbo at the moment and still have not begun packing anything. It is a waiting game until the last minute.
I hate this and I also hate that this is not my first time dealing with housing issues.
This is why housing programs matter; it helps one become stable and feel secure in the place where you live.
The past 13 days has been a lot of self-reflection about my life.
The realization came to me that I have moved every 3 to 5 years from the time I was a kid until now. Prior to the age of 9, I was bounced around between relatives and did not live with my own mother or her family. I have been a temporary resident my whole life.
This instability is the reason why I hardly ever keep Knick Knacks, pictures on the wall, or collectibles. It is why I have never known any of my neighbors and why I rarely had people visit me.
It is why every piece of furniture I have ever owned was from garage sales, flea markets, thrift stores, or estate sales. They were cheaply bought so they could easily be left behind if needed.
It is the reason why I have no real attachment to “things”. This whole time, I just thought I was this enlightened person but it turns out it has been trauma this whole time. I have been unstably housed my whole life and it is why I feel so much insecurity.
I never knew where I would be from year to year. It made me feel like my existence was just disposable. It has been a harsh realization to face. Deep down inside, I want a home of my own somewhere where there is the sea and mountains.
A place that I could call my own.
A place that I can paint the rooms whatever color I wanted. I can decorate it however I want. I can put out potted plants and flowers. I can grow a garden if I want to. A place where limitations are not being placed on me and I am not dealing with overzealous apartment managers or cheap landlords that did not want to fix problems. That has been my next big goal after I retired from the military, buying a home but it has been a struggle to even imagine that happening.
It has been a struggle because my income has not been stable since I retired from the military and shortly after, separated then divorced. I have had to move 7 times over the last ten years due to not having enough money to sustain everything especially if there were any emergencies, big or small. I have worked 17 different jobs during that same time frame and then ended up on disability. I was experiencing a lot emotionally, mentally, and physically. I have been in therapy this whole time.
Ironically, I was talking to my daughter recently and this notion of owning a home came up. It was in that moment that I remembered something from elementary school. In the fourth grade, the year I started living with my mother, we had to make this diorama portraying our dream house. I remember my house had this this living room, a kitchen, a bedroom, and off the bedroom there was this door to my art room.
I made this special room so I would have a place to be creative and do art. I remembered that I cut out pictures of windows from a magazine that became the views from this room. There was a round window with a view of the ocean and the other window was square and had a view of the mountains. I made a small desk and chair that had papers and books on it. In the middle of the room was an easel with a painting on it. A palette and paint brush were sitting on the easel. I got an “A” on my project and everyone liked the little art room with the round window.
This idea of having my own space has been with me my whole life. I realized during the moments of reflection that it has played into my idea of what it means to me about feeling safe, stable, and secure. It is a part of the anxiety that I feel and part of my trust issues.
Every time I thought it was finally happening, a space of my own, circumstances would change. I would to try and carve an area just for me within our homes much to the annoyance of not only my then husband but my mother and her family as well. They would overtake my space and put their things on top of mine.
I don’t know how many times my things were referred to as “Crap items” or the “Crap room” instead of craft items and craft room. They would gaslight me and say they were only kidding when I got upset but it never stopped them from saying it again and again, for years.
It got to the point that I would feel guilty for even having items that I enjoyed creating things with and I stopped being creative for years. I gave away my craft supplies or donated them.
It was not until this past two years when I started getting encouragement from others to be the creative person I am. It was like I was waiting for permission to just be me. I started building my creative space.
Now, I possibly have to take everything down, pack it away, and put it into storage until I find a new temporary home again.
All of this is to say that programs that are there to help people find or keep their permanent homes should be at the top of any local, state, or federal government policies.
The policies should be encouraging and enabling people to be permanent residents of their communities.
The policies should be there to build communities and not hinder progress due to red tape and unrealistic requirements some policy maker made or a corporation funded.
Not everyone wants a multi-million dollar mansion with more rooms than people living in it. Sometimes, it’s just a little place you can comfortably afford and call home.
A cozy little place in the winter where you can watch the snow fall and drink hot cocoa.
A little place where you can open windows and let a cool breeze blow through on summer nights.
A little place where you can sit on a porch and listen to the evening crickets or tree frogs.
A little place where you can sit and watch the rain as you write and drink coffee.
A little place where you can have friends over for movie nights, a weeknight dinner, or to celebrate life’s events.
A little place to fill your dreams with and find your aspirations there.
A safe, stable place where you can be you.
Thank you so much for stopping by and supporting this blog.
Have a wonderful week!
Peace, love, happiness, and good vibes, always!
Suzanne
love to bake 