The first month seemed the most active for my roommate. Her and her son would run into my bedroom, while I was nursing or not, and asked if I just slammed a door in their suite of rooms. Or if I heard those footsteps. I'd look at her, and she seemed to finally register that I had my hands full with the baby and realize it wasn't me. After a couple of weeks, she asked why they were being tortured and I wasn't. I told her she was a victim. She needed to change that and it would stop.
One annoying habit was I would be in the room feeding, and hear pebbles being thrown out my window. I'd sigh and me and the baby would emerge downstairs to unlock the door for my roommate. This happened on a daily basis at first. I assumed she was accidentally locking the doorknob herself. Finally, I suggested she take her keys outside with her, because what if I'm not home, and she is stuck outside. She never took that advice the whole year we lived together and I took countless trips down the stairs to let them in. She did get locked out at least once when I wasn't home and had to call the landlord.
For the most part, I enjoyed having her as my roommate. A few weeks in, I had noticed I had started feeling very nervous and tense. Not like myself at all. I was thinking what in the world could of brought this on. She walks in the room and I'm inspired to ask if she would say she's a nervous and tense person.
She confirms, "Oh gosh, yes! Why?"
I describe to her in detail what I was feeling.
"Because, I've been feeling it almost since I moved in with you."
"Yes, and (we will call her Sarah) Sarah, if you don't find a way of controlling your emotions, I will have to find someone to take over my part of the lease. I am not used to feeling like this and I do not think I can stand it for a whole year. It is a very uncomfortable feeling."
This subsided after our in depth conversation and within a few days I felt normal. I'm not sure if she got on medicine or if she realized after our convo that she can be mindful of her emotions and change them. Looking back, I realize she likely suffered from ptsd. As much as I had been through, she had it way worse, in my opinion. It was a wonder she was functioning at all. For that, I call her resilient. She truly is a strong person, though she appears weak in spirit.
There was alot of little things, and a couple of big things that happened while there. I will relate just a couple more of the small things.
Next door, there was a halfway house. I can't remember if it was for drug recovery or what. Sarah made friends with this older gentlemen who smoked in the back by the privacy fence. There was a deck on our side and they could easily converse. Two weeks before we were due to move out, the gentlemen points up to a set of windows in the back of our house on the second story and asks whose room is that.
Sarah looks and states that is her bedroom.
He said, "I was wondering because the whole time I been here, I come out every morning at 3 a.m. to smoke and that light in those windows is always on. Every morning"
Sarah says "No, that's my room. I don't sleep with the lights on."
Just then I walk up. She tells me what her friend has just told her. I confirm. " Oh, yeah, your light is always on. I see it every morning when I get up to get a glass of water." She shakes her head and looks at both of us.
"But I turn off all my lights. I can't sleep with the lights on. And, besides, if my light was on, why is it not when I wake up in the morning?"
I shrug and head inside.
The whole year we lived together, Sarah never ceased getting locked out. The same week she had the conversation about her bedroom lights with her friend, she was pelting my windows with pebbles. I head downstairs and unlock the door. Confused, I asked her, "Did you lose your keys?"
She giggled and said "No, girl, you know I forgot, as always, to grab my keys."
"What? No, you have to have your keys."
"No! They are upstairs. I didn't bring them down. Why??"
"Because this time the deadbolt was locked and you need a key to lock it."
The look on her face was priceless but she did begin to cry at the thought of something locking her out. The whole year passed and I thought she was accidentally locking herself out with the lock on the knob. We both understood in that moment, that wasn't the case. As always, she was being harassed. She never left her keys after that.
A little over a week later, we moved out and went our separate ways.
Edited by Altersense, 13 May 2020 - 07:04 AM.