Stuck in an SRO

For the past year I've been living in an SRO in Chinatown which I found off Craigslist. 

At the time I was homeless and staying with my grandparents who were in a residential living facility but I had overstayed my welcome on the 14 day limit and was desperate to find a place after my other relative told me to leave due to their household problems so I had no place to go.

I was debating between finding a room with a roommate who could be potentially dangerous... because of past problems I had I was very mistrustful of living with a stranger. But then I found a place on Craigslist in Chinatown and decided to check it out. 

In the end it was a good decision. Being in the downtown area helped my chances of employment and soon after I got a well-paying job, something I was never allowed to have as a single unmarried woman without rich parents in a small rural college town. San Francisco held many opportunities for me as a woman though still much less than a man. 

To my surprise I was accepted in the SRO via many emails frantically sent over the smartphone. 

But this new place held many challenges.

It would be the first time living in the city on my own amd with so many strange people around me. It wasn't the language that challenged me, it was the culture of generations of people, of immigrants living on the margins. 

There is poverty everywhere. Not just homeless but residents struggling to get by. There are many societies here, Christian and Chinese to help people with food and housing. 

At this SRO though it was cheap for me, there is no private bathroom but a shared Woman's and Men's bathroom (which isn't always clean). There is a communal kitched but only has a stove, no fridge or other appliances.

It was a huge shock to me. I was used to the good life, having my own apartment with private bath and at the time, a car that I had to give up to move to SF. Only the threat of being homeless scared me into accepting this new situation. I could not afford anything else. 

All my stuff is in storage along with my grandparent's stuff. I got stuck with everything. There is no room in my 10 x 10 room with small closet. I will never again have room for a bed as I've been sleeping on an air mattress for close to two years now. I will never again have room for my rocking chair which I used to sit in for hours while listening to music or watching movies. 

Eating is a major challenge. Eight months later after moving in I finally bought a fridge from Target, having to take a cab to deliver it to my place. I also have Celiac Disease and Safeway got rid of all the gluten-free food I used to eat: chocolate muffins, soup, bread, sweet loaf cake. Gluten-free food is terribly expensive and costs five times more than regular food. For a small loaf of bread I pay $5.99. I do not cook food in my room but use a hot water pot and rareley a rice cooker. I have lived like this for over a year. My weight went down ten pounds at one time. 

Getting sick is also a problem. Though there are plenty of markets and drug-stores open I hardly feel like going out. Climbing two flights of stairs every time for the bathroom wears me out as does climbing three flights of stairs to get to my room as the elevator is just as difficult and breaks all the time. Many old people were stranded in my building when it took two weeks to repair it. 

Noise is a bad factor here. The neighbors make a ruckus with their yelling, banging on walls and ceiling until 3 am. The alleyway cleaners come around past midnight to spray and their machine is horribly loud. Then comes the street cleaner at 2 am. It's a miracle I get to sleep at all.

Also... bad smells. I have no idea what people cook here or what goes on but there is a terrible stench at times along with the pot smokers off the fire escape and the guy below me who is always smoking pot. Everyone ignores the non-smoking law here.

Bathing is hard. The showers are dirty and the old people wash their piss buckets in them. I had to use the Men's shower because there are two stalls to shower in and all the doors are papered for privacy. I also had to use their toilets when the Woman's stall was full. You get used to not having any modesty pretty quickly. Though lateley this has been a depressing experience for me and I opt to go to the YMCA instead. There is one in Chinatown and another at Embarcadero which I take the bus to. I got a membership as soon as I moved at the SRO and it has been a lifesaver. The only problem is that it's not open late.

Keeping up appearances. I don't like telling people where I live because it reeks of poverty. I am sure many second dates were canceled because I had told them where I lived. It's a fact of life that you will be hated because you are poor. I have a good job but I must keep up appearences so that no one knows I'm poor. It's hard when everyone is buying new clothes everyday and shopping all the time. I am the only one who can't afford anything. I prefer to spend money on food which is a luxury for me. I have no support other than the money I had saved since childhood. Since my grandparent's died, I haven't had any outside support. I have to rely on myself to survive.

I don't hear of many single woman like myself living in an SRO without kids. Mostly there are men who move here. It's hard to explain how much this hurts me to lose almost everything in my life and be threatened with homelessness. I can never tell people how little I have or why it's so hard for me to do normal things like: eat, shower, get to work on time. People who have everything never understand what it's like to have nothing. I try not to be bitter.

A lot of my friends have been homeless. Couch surfing is the new norm. Living in a trailer or car on someone's property is the American Way now... so is struggling. No matter how hard you work you will never get by.

I am stuck in an SRO. I am afraid to move because I just paid off my lease and there is rent control here. Even Oakland is too expensive and I have no car to move to the East Bay. With my job, I don't want to lose the convenient location and it's close to many activities I love in the city where I don't need a car.

My quality of living has been drastically altered and I have to accept this. It's only when I compare myself to others that I feel pain because I don't have what they have. Though at times I feel I have much more freedom than they ever could. Somehow I have to be okay with this.

So I Voted, So What?

Well, today I voted and I have to say it wasn't very eventful though I'm glad I remembered to vote because I almost missed it.

There was very little advertising on where to vote and onlt a tiny little sign with a tiny little arrow pointing to where I voted last year was the only sign around which showed me where to vote.

There had been a mix-up previously due to my semi-homeless status on whether or not I could vote so I went online and accidentally clicked permanent vote-by-mail status and was not able to correct it though I had called the voter Elections office many times in San Francisco I was unable to go there in person because I work full time.

I was really looking forward to this election since it would be my first time voting in the primaries as a no party preference.

There was tons of media coverage about Hillary vs Bernie vs. Trump but very little coverage about the San Francisco elections or even the state elections concerning proposition 50 which threatens to suspend state senators without pay. I have to admit I didn't even know about this proposition until I heard it on National Public Radio with the NPR app on my new phone.

So when I got to the polling place today I knew next to nothing about what would be on the ballot besides a brief encounter online with a sample ballot, that was all I knew about what would be on there. I was woefully unprepared for the slew of measures that San Francisco is trying to pass. One which included a measure to investigate police officers in any police officer shooting that occurred. Again, I didn't know this until I listened to it on NPR.

Also due to my voting mishap with the vote by mail ballot, I had to fill out a provisional ballot which had to go in a separate box which is supposedly counted but they have to double-check to make sure I'm not committing voter fraud.

I was standing at my little voting booth trying to figure out what the heck I was voting on while listening to old ladies chattering and chattering on and making fun of the younger volunteer, while I was trying to figure out who's running for what and what's doing what on the voting ballot.

Needless to say it was a miserable experience and I declined the voting sticker you get after you vote. I felt dejected and useless and wondered what the heck I was voting for in this country.

I do wonder about the presidential elections and what's going to happen since the Democrat vote is split by Bernie and Hillary as I would hate to see another rehash of the Nader vs. Gore scenario which led George "Dubbya" Bush to the presidential office. I've seen enough potential destruction already to know what happens when a rich guy hits the presidential office with no regard to the people or the media. I am very suspicious of any presidential candidate who hates the media as much as Trump does.

If worst comes to worst as it did with Bush, I will have to move to Canada, possibly British Columbia or perhaps Denmark where at least there, they are content.

Loss

"Loss"

My grandmother passed away Monday evening.

I was at work when I got the call, from the hospice nurse. My grandmother had been on hospice since May 2015. My grandfather passed away in March 2016, also on hospice. They were in a care home I selected after my grandmother was unable to live in independent living in October. She had been too weak to walk and eventually stopped walking, losing the ability in her legs.

I won't go into too much detail about the nightmare of worry I went through during this time. My family and I have been dealing with this together and I am finally coming face to face with this reality.

* * *

I stood in the sunlight with book in hand, moving every so often when the sun's light dimmed behind a building. In San Francisco, sunlight is scarce in the afternoon.

I wondered suddenly about the purpose of my life.

* * *

For years, my grandparents have been the center of my life, as if they were my parents. They raised me and took care of me when no one else could. My grandmother fought for guardianship of me when my abusive mother's actions led me to be taken away into state custody. My grandfather was always there for my grandmother during this time. I knew no one else.

As I got older, so did they, and they suffered the terrible ailments of age: broken bones, pain, multiple hospital trips, medication for high-blood pressure, loss of body functions, etc. The burden of caregiver was put upon me and I learned to manage a household at age 17. I was already signing checks, was made Power of Attorney, and paying bills from their account by age 21. When I had been 16 my grandmother wanted desperately for me to get my license, because not only did this free her of being my school activity chauffeur, it also provided emergency transportation for when she needed to go to the hospital, which was very frequent. The hospital people knew my grandmother and I by name.

My grandfather also had problems and I was there for him too.

The sense of "life coming to an end" for my grandparents was always close to my thoughts. "What if they die?" was the frequent question and grandma always assured me there was money and family to handle it all.

Eventually, I moved out (multiple times) and tried, unsuccessfully, to start my own life as an adult. I never had a full time job at this time, though I often was a full-time college student. After age 23 though, I had to get my own life insurance and was no longer a dependent status. I was still paying my bills with their money.

Never having a full time job made things difficult for me and made things next to impossible for rent, which also contributed to my homeless situation. I never had a steady relationship with anyone and never moved in with a boyfriend/significant other. I did not learn the early lessons people my age learned: moving out, paying your own bills, starting a family, etc. I promised my grandmother at age 12 I would never get pregnant as a teen and this led to me renewing my own vow never to have children.

There were always emergencies. When I wasn't there to help grandma, she had to rely on a kindly neighbor to take her to the hospital. This made me feel very guilty. Grandma assured me I could have my own life but I was never convinced.

Then Kaiser, their HMO health insurance given to them by grandpa's county retirement (which grandma helped write up 50 years ago), threatened to kick them off permanently if they did not move back into the area. We had already sold the house but the letter came all of a sudden, as I had just recently picked out a house for us to rent. I helped move them again to an apartment in the bay area while I stayed to finish the pro-longed rent that the property manager had tricked my grandmother into.

When it came time for me, a single unemployed female, to find a place to live, it was nearly impossible. I suffered greatly as a result.

There came the recent time I had to live with grandma and grandpa in their independent living residence (a 14 day limit) while I was homeless, after a relative told me to leave. This was right before grandma went on hospice.

I have faced many trials since then.

* * *

I imagine this must be what caregivers for family feel, when their loved one has finally passed away. That sense of loss, loss of purpose, loss of meaning, when you feel as though you have lived solely for the purpose of taking care of the person who has just died.

Grandma always told me, "What would I do without you?", "You're the only one I live for.", etc. Words like these have a powerful effect on a person who has had no purpose in life besides feeling responsible for the grandparents who rescued them from abuse.

I felt always that I never had my own life.

When I finally got a foothold of some independent existence: getting a job, being homeless, moving to San Francisco, quitting that job, wandering aimlessly until the next job, breaking up with a long-term boyfriend...

disaster struck.

In October, on the 17th, I found out grandma could not stay at her residence alone. That she needed care. We eventually paid about $20,000 for private care through an agency related to hospice. My concerns with those people shall not be mentioned here, other than that, I had to quit the care due to financial constraints and that I worked as hard as I could to give my grandmother the care she needed.

I had considered moving in with them, as a full-time caregiver. This meant I would give up my place in San Francisco that I had worked to hard to find. That I would quit my job, the only job that was giving me full-time work hours and lose any future money. It meant giving up my entire life with the great possibility of being homeless again.

I cried and cried at the loss of my freedom, at the loss of my life. What could I do?

After talking to family, it occurred to me that I could pay myself from my grandparent's money (we had more money at that time). It also dawned on me that I was alone, that no one else could really help me. This was a lot for me to face.

Reality and a sort of selfishness brought me to my senses. There was no way I could take care of my grandmother and if my grandfather got worse (which was more than likely), I could not do it on my own. Even with the hired help that cost over $500 a day, it was a struggle. Grandma needed round-the-clock care, diaper changing and was pretty much bed-ridden, not being able to get out of bed by this time. It was too much for me.

I had to move grandma. Now there was a deadline, as we had given the independent living residence 30 day notice. Problem was, there was no vacancy in a care home for grandma. I frantically searched the internet and called over a dozen places to no avail... finally settling for a referral agency (which the care homes pay). Grandma made me swear never to put them in a nursing home. I would find out later what horrible places these were.

Finally, we managed to find a place. But the problems continued...

* * *

Even now, I have trouble using the singular "I". I have always said, "we", my grandparents and I, as if we were one unit. My boss asked me when I told him my troubles, "Who's this 'we' you're talking about? I thought you were on your own?" Even now I say, my grandparents and I, the only family I've known.

I have other family members but I am not close with them. It's my own fault, I suppose. I am not one who communicates well with others who can't understand how I feel. It's been this way since I was a child.

There is also the matter of being stuck with their problems. Since I was a teenager, I have been aware of other people's problems. My grandmother always had to deal with their drama, and later, so did I. I had enough of my own problems at this time and was reluctant to take on anyone else's. I also felt isolated and betrayed after being homeless, since oddly enough when people offered to help, they did not. When things were going well I had to deal with other's problems. When things weren't going well for me, no one was there.

I have now learned not to rely on others. I have learned never to expect anything from anyone else.

I am now empty.

* * *

I stood there with my book in hand, sunlight warming my back, wondering about my life.

I had the strangest superstition that as long as I had to care for my grandparents, nothing would happen to me. Perhaps God only allowed me to live because I was taking care of my grandparents. Surely, I thought in my selfishness, God won't punish me as long as I take care of my grandparents. I always thought this when in a plane, going across the oceans to the other continents.

Now it seems I may die at any time.

I came close to killing myself before. The trials I faced before becoming homeless were great. The only thing that kept me from taking my own life, was the thought of my grandmother. I was the only one she had.

Now I have nothing left to live for, besides myself.

All that time of worry (making me want to end my own life), is gone. Now I don't care.

* * *

What am I now?