#itzcheck

Moving out and living with a housemate was a risky decision. I had a stable apartment with an ok landlord, so the risk was hardly justified. Sure, it was a studio in a basement with ants and roaches. Sure, I was really starting to struggle to take care of myself living alone. But another me would've never left, preferring the safety over the uncertainty. I can live on "just enough" until I have enough resources to make things better for myself without relying on others. But I was sick and tired and lonely so I took the risk and moved in with a person I didn't know a lot about. In a lot of ways it's paid off. I got hit with autistic burnout really hard soon after I moved, and if I wasn't able to offload tasks like groceries to someone else I'm not sure how I would've survived. I also got very lucky, my housemate is really open minded and genuine. I lost my speech for over a week and they didn't bat an eye, no judgement when I had to use AAC. They're a cool punk and artist, they just wanna go to concerts and do crafts together. They also got a cat so even though they were almost always out of the house, I had someone there for me so I would be a little less lonely. It kept me sane when I couldn't (and can't) reach out to friends or leave my house. But... Moving was trading the daily struggle for fear.