Beth-GDB
10-21-2006, 05:55 AM
I'm just venting some pent up frustration at the moment.
I'm developing a case of "cabin fever" I think. I finally bought myself an apartment almost two years ago after living in a shared house for the best part of 20 years (and for almost the entire 20 years I was sharing that house with at least one of my brothers as well as various friends).
When I moved into the apartment it was bliss, all the privacy I could wish for (I guard my privacy very jealously). I didn't have to worry about someone else coming into my room looking for something and finding my "other clothes". I'd hang my "other clothes" out to dry on the balcony of the apartment mixed in with my regular clothes, no fuss, no drama, and I was starting to think more seriously about how to make myself look less like a hairy man in a badly fitting dress. That was until just over 6 months ago. Someone I used to work with got in touch with me needing a place to stay for a while, and they knew I had a spare bedroom that wasn't being used by anyone. This person had recently been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and while he was taking medication he was still having problems getting along with the other people he was sharing another place with. Eventually they gave him his marching orders and there he was, nowhere to go and a state of mind that was all over the place, telling me that even his own family wouldn't take him in. I told him he could stay with me for a while. Did I mention he's also unemployed? Yeah, the fun never ends it seems (although he's the one going through all that, not me).
I was expecting him to be gone again in maybe three months or so. That was wishful thinking. It's getting close to seven months now, with no end in sight at the moment.
So picture this, I have a bipolar houseguest who's in the apartment pretty much all day every day because he doesn't have a job, it's a small apartment, so the only privacy I have (again) is just my room. He can't afford to move somewhere else, and none of his close relatives who could help him if they wanted to will do so. While he's really eager to help with things like cooking, he's not particularly good when it comes to cleaning up (to be fair, he's not a slob, he does try. It's just that he's not very good at cleaning up), so it's now part of my personal routine to check his cleaning and redo part of it.
I think I'm starting to go through some sort of withdrawl of not being able to wear any of my "other" clothes at the moment, and the idea of just sitting around in my bedroom in them really doesn't appeal to me. I packed all my other clothes in boxes before he moved in and they're still packed away. I won't wear them because I don't have the privacy at the moment to properly wash and dry them. If he at least had a job and was out of the apartment regularly, I could develop my own schedule around that, but no, he hardly ever leaves the apartment. :straightface:
I'm not going to out myself to him for a couple of reasons. Since he's bipolar I'm not sure how he'd react. He was really struggling to cope with his own problems until he recently had his medication changed. Plus, because of my overdeveloped sense of privacy I want to be the person who decides who is told about me and what they're told. If I out myself to him, there's no guessing who he'd tell or what he'd tell them, especially if he's in one of his more manic moods, and we have a few mutual friends. I'm also not going to just order him to leave, he wouldn't cope well at all with that and I'm not that hard hearted. I've made it very clear to him that this isn't a long term arrangement, I do expect him to find somewhere else to live. When that will be is anyone's guess, but I don't expect it to be any time soon.
No doubt some of you reading this will say "I've been hiding this from people for years you wuss, stop whining". So have I. After I finished highschool and moved out of my parents home I hoped I'd have some real privacy. The realities of life, the cost of rent and some low paying jobs that in hindsight I stayed in for too long meant I was still sharing a place with one or another of my brothers for the best part of the next 20 years.
For a brief time, I finally started to have what I'd wanted for so long. I had my freedom, I had my privacy, I had my happiness. Right now I have no idea when I'll get any of them back again. :(
I'm developing a case of "cabin fever" I think. I finally bought myself an apartment almost two years ago after living in a shared house for the best part of 20 years (and for almost the entire 20 years I was sharing that house with at least one of my brothers as well as various friends).
When I moved into the apartment it was bliss, all the privacy I could wish for (I guard my privacy very jealously). I didn't have to worry about someone else coming into my room looking for something and finding my "other clothes". I'd hang my "other clothes" out to dry on the balcony of the apartment mixed in with my regular clothes, no fuss, no drama, and I was starting to think more seriously about how to make myself look less like a hairy man in a badly fitting dress. That was until just over 6 months ago. Someone I used to work with got in touch with me needing a place to stay for a while, and they knew I had a spare bedroom that wasn't being used by anyone. This person had recently been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and while he was taking medication he was still having problems getting along with the other people he was sharing another place with. Eventually they gave him his marching orders and there he was, nowhere to go and a state of mind that was all over the place, telling me that even his own family wouldn't take him in. I told him he could stay with me for a while. Did I mention he's also unemployed? Yeah, the fun never ends it seems (although he's the one going through all that, not me).
I was expecting him to be gone again in maybe three months or so. That was wishful thinking. It's getting close to seven months now, with no end in sight at the moment.
So picture this, I have a bipolar houseguest who's in the apartment pretty much all day every day because he doesn't have a job, it's a small apartment, so the only privacy I have (again) is just my room. He can't afford to move somewhere else, and none of his close relatives who could help him if they wanted to will do so. While he's really eager to help with things like cooking, he's not particularly good when it comes to cleaning up (to be fair, he's not a slob, he does try. It's just that he's not very good at cleaning up), so it's now part of my personal routine to check his cleaning and redo part of it.
I think I'm starting to go through some sort of withdrawl of not being able to wear any of my "other" clothes at the moment, and the idea of just sitting around in my bedroom in them really doesn't appeal to me. I packed all my other clothes in boxes before he moved in and they're still packed away. I won't wear them because I don't have the privacy at the moment to properly wash and dry them. If he at least had a job and was out of the apartment regularly, I could develop my own schedule around that, but no, he hardly ever leaves the apartment. :straightface:
I'm not going to out myself to him for a couple of reasons. Since he's bipolar I'm not sure how he'd react. He was really struggling to cope with his own problems until he recently had his medication changed. Plus, because of my overdeveloped sense of privacy I want to be the person who decides who is told about me and what they're told. If I out myself to him, there's no guessing who he'd tell or what he'd tell them, especially if he's in one of his more manic moods, and we have a few mutual friends. I'm also not going to just order him to leave, he wouldn't cope well at all with that and I'm not that hard hearted. I've made it very clear to him that this isn't a long term arrangement, I do expect him to find somewhere else to live. When that will be is anyone's guess, but I don't expect it to be any time soon.
No doubt some of you reading this will say "I've been hiding this from people for years you wuss, stop whining". So have I. After I finished highschool and moved out of my parents home I hoped I'd have some real privacy. The realities of life, the cost of rent and some low paying jobs that in hindsight I stayed in for too long meant I was still sharing a place with one or another of my brothers for the best part of the next 20 years.
For a brief time, I finally started to have what I'd wanted for so long. I had my freedom, I had my privacy, I had my happiness. Right now I have no idea when I'll get any of them back again. :(