I am so sick of supported housing. I’m no longer being all that “supported” and I feel as though I’m being treated like a non-person.
My support worker is becoming almost entirely useless and it’s really pissing me off. Two weeks ago she missed an appointment for our support session that we had previously made.
Via text, we rescheduled for Tuesday, last week, and she was a no-show for that too! I text my support worker a couple of times and got absolutely nothing back from her until just now.
My current and previous support worker came through into the house, opening the front door with a key, without bothering to wait for me to get dressed and open the door—I was sleeping, as it was 10am and I went to sleep at 4am—with a potential new flatmate, who just so happens to be a female; I didn’t even think that was allowed.
I looked at my phone once they left and noticed that my support worker did text me this morning, a little before they had come around. She knows full well that my sleep isn’t fantastic and that I would be asleep at that time, so the very text telling me she was coming over at 10:30am today was utterly pointless.
You don’t spring this crap on a normal person, let alone someone with mental health issues; it’s just out of order. They should all know better. I’m so fed up of being treated like how I feel is redundant. I wouldn’t treat someone normal like this, let alone in a professional setting!
The text I got from my support worker this morning started with an apology followed by an excuse. The woman said the reason for her absence was because she has been off and has “only just come back in.” She couldn’t tell me this beforehand? Or at the very least have someone else keep me informed.
She continued the text by berating herself, saying, “Useless person!” Yeah, because that’s professional, and totally makes up for everything. Am I supposed to feel sorry for her?
On the bright side, she also mentioned seeing the council to discuss my nomination in order to get the merry hell out of here; I guess that’s something.
I particularly like the “thanks” at the end of the text, which really just rubs it in. What, you’re welcome for treating me like a moron? Cheers! Spot on. What-ho. Tralala.
Since I didn’t want to make a bad impression with the potential new flatmate, I couldn’t really have a go at my support worker there and then. I sent her a text when they left, once I got hers. I told her the score, ending with, “I might be disabled, but I’m a person with thoughts and feelings just like you.”
I’m not happy, but with any luck, I will be out of here soon and able to wash my hands of these people. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the assist in a difficult time in my life, but that doesn’t mean I should accept being treated this way.