I asked - no,to be fair, demanded - my roommate leave by the fifteenth of the month. Now, I will be the first to admit, I have not always been the ideal roommate. I've been bothered by his laissez-faire approach to life. Friends, relatives, et al have "helped him out" while he job searched somewhat less than ... tenaciously. And I've let that bother me. Publicly at times. When I should not have, I admit. One, his work is not my work. I have enough personal work to not take on his failings. Two, relinquishing that, I should not have made my frustrations public.
I own my failints. I admit them and apologize for them.
Yet, I feel that my frustration was in some way justified. I got angry that he couldn't pay bills while he spent time on the beach or going out at night. Or publically admitted to being high quite frequently. I'm not going to claim I've always been "drug free" but I still managed to pay my bills on time.
When I asked him - okay, insisted - to leave by the 15th of the month, he got angry. More than angry. Other tenants were months behind on rent so why was I making a big deal. I flaunted in his face the fact that I had part time jobs when I should stop playing "Mother Theresa." I blogged about him "slandering him."). (Yes, I blogged about him and I shouldn't have. But slander is only slander if it isn't true.)
But here's what I am truly afraid of: the ferocity in his eyes, in his face. He admitted not a week ago that he was off his meds because (and I quote so it's not slander) his sister was helping him get his meds but could no longer do so. And while he had other things to worry about, the first was to get his meds in order.
Today, he threw my diagnosis of bi-polar in my face. Who was I to judge, he insisted, when I had been diagnosed as "crazy." Despite the fact that I have been mindful and proactive about treating my condition. Whereas he can't get a prescription renewed (and again I quote, no slander intended) because "they want to charge me $65 for an evaluation."
So here he is, much larger than me, physically, and clearly off his meds. No, I have not been perfect. But I have ALWAYS owned up to my bad behavior.
But there's a difference between being a bad roommate and being a scary, threatening roommate. And I am going on record, here and now, and saying that I am scared of him. I stress every time I pull into our development and see his car there. I shake thinking I have to get into a confrontation with him. Because his eyes are scary. His mannerisms are scary. Yes, in truth, I am worried.
Friends want me to call the police But I have nothing to say. He hasn't hurt me physically. He's abused me verbally, but that's really hard to prove...
I guess the point of this is to verbalize the scary situation I'm in. Maybe people who have similar experiences will find solace. Maybe they'll contact me I can find solace. I don't know.
But I know that it's almost midnight, tomorrow is a day off and, in theory, I could sleep 'till whenever, but I feel like I need to be up and about. Just in case...
I have friends offering me a safe house. And thank the Universe for them. I pray I will never have to take them up on the offer. But "my tribe" has offered me refuge. I love my tribe.