On Stressful Living Situations

When I moved to the city to attend university, I started renting a room in a house. The owners live on the ground and second floors, and in the basement there are three bedrooms with a shared kitchen and bathroom. I’ve lived here more or less happily for three years, but that all changed last August, when I returned from my summer job in my home town…

I won’t say I’ve been BFFs with the six different girls who have lived here the previous three years, but these two are really no fun. One of them slams the doors all the time, worse so when she sees me – I’ll partially take the blame for that, being the author of some passive aggressive notes around the place, but it’s been going on for months and I don’t understand how she’s not tired of it yet… I’m treating this whole situation as a bully type of thing where I’m refusing to react as that’s probably what she wants, I don’t know.

The other has had pre-drinks here several times now, without giving notice. The first time I took me completely by surprise as she’d had a total of one visitor over  several months. I hoped it was a one-time thing. Turned out not to be. Last night it happened again. On a Wednesday, for crying out loud! At least the last time was on a weekend. I was boiling inside. Well, partially. The other part of me is finding it really difficult to react because I have zero energy left to spend on these girls.

I have a bit of situational anxiety, and I hate confrontation. However, my boyfriend, two best friends, and mom all told me I had to talk to her and tell her that I should be notified when she’s having people over. So I managed to find the courage to do that not long ago. Doing that was worse than presenting my project in literature class this morning. Essentially, I told her I would appreciate being notified so that I could choose to be elsewhere when she’s having people over. She said she would, but I doubt it, really… And now I’m sat here, with my heart beating incredibly hard and fast,  the most uncomfortable I’ve been all day.

After my summer job as a guide at a historic property I’ve gotten a lot better at talking to people, presenting things. But in a situation like today’s presentation, I just take on a role and put up a shield between me and the people. I’m incapable of doing that at home. I can’t pretend to be someone else here. I’m just me, and just me is not a very brave person, just me is vulnerable and awkward and hates confrontation. Just me is on the edge of tears. Just me is not sure how she’s supposed to handle this permanent situation for much longer. Just me wants out.

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