On the morning of April 25, my mum walked into my bedroom and told me we'd been fired. Two weeks later we left the farm with no house or job to go to. We'd tried our best to find something but nobody would take us on. We almost got a rental house nearby, but the person who owned it never called us back. We didn't get their number so it was on them to contact us. They still haven't.
That set the tone for the next six months. Again and again, we nearly got a house and a farm job but at the last second, it always fell through. Both strangers and people I thought were friends have had what we need, but they all turned us away or stopped responding to our messages and calls. Depression set in early on and every day it seems harder to fight it. It's been 171 days. I counted.
We lived in tents through the winter. It was so cold. The zips broke. The tents went moldy. We eventually got enough money together to buy a bus, in a surprising stroke of good luck. Now we are still sleeping on camp stretchers and air beds but at least the walls are solid. But of course, now all that money is gone.
I am tired of struggling. I'm tired of worrying about how we'll afford food every week. And then there are extra bills, on top of regular bills. Last week Skuggi got a grass seed in his ear. On a Sunday. He had to be taken to the vet to have it removed. More expenses on an already tight budget. It never ends.
We're heading into summer. We just found out yesterday, on our hottest day since April, that our generator won't run our air-conditioner after all. We have a break from the heat for a little while, thankfully, but it'll be back by next Thursday and stronger this time.
We're heading into summer. We just found out yesterday, on our hottest day since April, that our generator won't run our air-conditioner after all. We have a break from the heat for a little while, thankfully, but it'll be back by next Thursday and stronger this time.
I have tried to find a job myself but there is nothing suitable in this area. Nothing I could even think of applying for. It feels so isolated out here.
It's been six months. I feel like people have moved on with their lives. I feel like we've been forgotten out here. It also seems a lot like some people think it's our own fault, that we've brought this situation on ourselves, that we're choosing to be homeless. But the truth is we are only in this situation because our boss fired us and kicked us out of his house. And nobody else will give us a chance.
Every time I post yet another rant/whinge post I tell myself that next time I will have something good to post about. But every time it's just more of the same because nothing is changing. We're still here. It still sucks and if anything, it's only getting worse. For some reason, it's proving impossible to get another job or a house. All the people who have nothing to offer say they wish they could help us, while those who have what we need don't seem to care about us.
It's been 171 days. Apparently, this is just how my life is now.
It's been 171 days. Apparently, this is just how my life is now.
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