Endless homelessness 

Although I haven’t been subjected to sleeping rough (yet), I have been technically homeless for almost a year now, jumping from place to place, one bad situation to another.   Many transgender people are in the same situation, largely as a result of poverty and having few options.  

My care manager took me to see a place I found yesterday.  The ad seemed promising; it seemed like a room in a shared house and I thought that part of town was safe.  But when we got there, I instantly got bad vibes.  There were too people waiting outside and one of them said that it was basically all men.  At that point, I wanted to leave.  When the landlord showed up, we got to see the place, which was far worse than expected. It wasn’t a house; it was a hostel with maybe 15 rooms.  The hallway was dark, smelly and felt unsafe.  The room was dingy and depressing and felt like a tomb.  There were just 2 bathrooms for the entire building and no kitchen or laundry facilities (which even if there were, I’d have been too afraid to use them).  We asked if there were any other women living here and he said just one.  We left and my care manager tried to say that it wasn’t that bad, but that is not a place I could live in.  It looked like something out of a snuff horror movie.  I wish I’d have taken pictures, but the hallways resembled this:


I despair. I keep telling people I need help to find a job first, then I can afford to live wherever I want and can boy safety.  We are going about this ass backwards; I’ll be lucky to find anywhere at all, never mind a safe place.   I know my friend and her roommate secretly want me to leave, but if I were allowed time to find a job, that would be achievable.  I don’t want to be in anyone’s way anymore.  But I also don’t want to end up in another hostel, as the last time it happened, it was a bad experience (and that hostel was predominantly female, but some of the men gave me issues).

I’m about to give up on my cash assistance claim as its just too much to deal with.  They want me to go back to DHS for a 3rd time, but the appointment clashes with my appointment with an attorney to change my wretched deadname. I would rather put my energy into finding a job, but I keep being told that I’m not ready and that I need housing first.  It is endlessly frustrating.  People don’t get that going to DHS is far more stressful to me than going to a job interview.  I’m so tired and fed up with my wretched voice not being heard.  

Plan X is looking awfully appealing, still.  I can’t hold out much longer.  I don’t feel like I’m ready to live alone; not financially or emotionally.  

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Author: Becca

Dead to the world, dead inside.

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