Dear Prudence,
I feel trapped. Nine months ago, I offered to my financially destitute friends to move in with me. There were several benefits for them, as they’d be moving to a new state where they could receive health insurance, heating, and food assistance. I manage a very nice farm, and whilst discussing our plans, they repeatedly, passionately explained that they both were ready and eager to help work on said farm. This agreement was made very public, as they were using GoFundMe to help with moving expenses.
Six months ago, they arrived. Our winter—through no fault of theirs, nor mine—was nightmarish. We experienced crisis after crisis, and we had to leave my house for safety reasons. Our community provided some amazing support, for which we are all grateful. It’s difficult to explain the timeline, but basically, whilst we were still trying to handle the crisis, they began working on the farm. After one month, they said they needed to stop, that the work was impacting their health. It was agreed that when the safety concerns in our house were repaired, they’d move back in, clean up the messes we left during our sudden departure, and unpack their U-Haul’s worth of belongings. I would work the farm alone.
Truthfully, being forced to manage the farm by myself has been an amazing opportunity to discover what I’m capable of, what aspects of the farm I want to maintain or drop, and how to make the work easier for everyone who might ever be involved. And given that both my housemates are now receiving life-saving medical care, I think some of it worked out.
However, we are all on extremely limited incomes—both of them more so than I, but not by much. On the house in which they live and I own, I am paying the mortgage, trash, homeowner’s insurance, and gas whenever they need me to drive them somewhere (total $515 monthly), and they (supposedly, as I haven’t received the money) are paying the electricity bill ($68 monthly). I am still living in the house we relocated to this winter (it’s an empty home that’s in my family), because after serious consideration, I realized that moving back to my house with them would cause my mental health to tank (I have a history of depression and low self-esteem). I’m learning we are not particularly compatible housemates—I am brash and intense, much cleaner than they are, and I cannot stand their dogs barking every time I open a door. I don’t really like hanging out with them anymore, and find myself either angry or feeling like I must perform friendliness.
I am not trying to be whiny, but I am at my wits’ end. All of my stuff is still at my original house with my housemates. I’m paying the bulk of the bills, and I retain full liability if anything happens. I fully believe that everyone should have safe housing, food, water, and health care. I also feel like the original agreements (sharing farm work and household expenses, caring for each other) are completely null. I’m 32. I want to move home, not live on a couch with a half-functioning stove. I’m no longer in the emotional/mental state I was when I invited them, nor when they arrived. I’m very concerned that we have no housemate or renter agreements in writing, that they promise to pay for bills they can’t cover, and that they have no plans for heating the house this winter.
Every time I try to bring up any of this, I’m told, “Now is not the time for that discussion.” Several friends have suggested I ask them to leave. Frankly, I want them, their four pets, and their stuff gone. But Prudence, they can barely pay their own phone bill, let alone the rent on an apartment. They’ve scheduled important surgeries for the next two months. They have disabilities and chronic illnesses, and no understanding of what preparations for the future mean. How on Earth could I in good conscience kick them out? Support for people like them is shrinking every day.