Over sharing and bottle stacking

So today the topic of bottle stacking in windows as a competitive uni tradition came up at tea with my flatmates (and their various hangers on who continually congest the dining area with their drunken slovenly and irritating juvenile behaviour)

6 flatmates (and their friends) for stacking

1 against (me)

Any of you who have been readers for a while may have picked up on the fact I was physicaly abused as a kid my my (ex) step mother who suffered from alcohol and substance abuse issues.

So I wrote a letter explaining that alcohol/drunk people are a trigger, and that I have to manage my exposure to cope, and that I would prefer it if they didn’t stack their bottles and cans in the window; to prove some ridiculous point to others about how much they can drink (obviously I was more polite and didn’t say I thought is was dumb as fuck and that they should just clean up after themselves and behave like adults).

I offered the compromise of still doing it, but ensuring that they kept that curtain closed and away from my designated kitchen area.

I have taped it to the kitchen table (currently also littered with alcohol bottles) and await a response.

This was possibly the dumbest thing I have ever done, but I seriously do not want to cope with encountering numerous bottles in the windows every time I want to make cereal, and I don’t want to seem like that one shitty buzz kill flatmate who is a moany whinging asshole. So yeah.

That was my evening.

I was literally shaking when I put it up but I feel like just taking it down and recycling the bottles would make me look like a total prick so I over shared.

I cannot fucking win right now with this situation. Freshers week should be renamed ‘fresh hell’ and I cannot wait for monday to roll round and for everyone to calm down and go to class.

I feel like I am being the boring, ‘passive aggressive post it note’ type flat mate that everyone dreads having. And I don’t want their pity or to kill their fun or ruin their experience. I just want them to understand that I am seriously not okay with stacking bottles and that I have to use this space.

Cleaning up after them is also pissing me off, and having them bang on my door and window and make noise till 5 am. Go have fun. I get it. Have fun. Live your lives and be carefree and untouched by trauma and grief.

You are all great when you are sober but I just hate your friends and your kitchen parties that do not consider anyone else bar your own selves. Also. Touch my food and you are all in for it.

And that yeah, sometimes I will over react or freak out or hide, and just generally not act how every fresher is supposed to act. But deal with it. We have to live together for a year (I am not doing dorms next year, just fuck no.)

If my life was different I would be doing it too. It’s a laugh. But it isn’t to me, and I just want them to get why all evenings bar this one I have basically been a hermit in my room trying to escape. Why I never go clubbing and why sometimes I am a bit snappy in the evenings so I just seem rude, but I am really trying to join in but I can’t because it is a physical effort not to run away as soon as I see people are drinking.

The kitchen (and properly cooking) is one of my safe spaces and they keep invading it.

I don’t like mess as I like to control my environment and mess makes me stressed, I can’t control the kitchen or even fully my space in it, and generally it does not make me feel particularly safe or secure.

Added to that yesterday was 11 months since we lost Emmet so this whole week has been an emotional rollercoaster and crazy sudden changes and no routine right now is driving me nuts.

I have a no alcohol policy in my room, and nobody drunk is stepping through that door either. Not that I have had to enforce it, mostly they leave me alone.

Also there is this one asshole who just continues to harass me and has been nonstop every evening since we got here. He seems to be a friend of one of my flat mates and they find him funny. I want to hit him over the head with my frying pan and take a wash every time he looks at me. Eughhh. He just makes my skin crawl and I HATE HATE HATE not having a dog with me. Dogs make me feel safe, and this is a no pets dorm.

I want a dog between me and that creep. I have a door but I hate it as it is this automatic ooen shut bulshit thing that doesn’t work propperly; and I am super paranoid that it wont close propperly and it does NOT make me feel at all safe.

I like having my own space. I like my own room and bathroom. I have a lot of kitchen stuff in my room too, slow cooker, toaster, kettle so I can stay inside but I still have to use the kitchen a lot.

This whole week has been bloody traumatic and I have moved away. I am enjoying a lot of aspects of uni life, I am just seriously struggling with others.

And I miss my son. I should have a 3 month old, not juvenile, bottle stacking, drink obsessed flat mates. I want back the missing pieces of my heart and instead I am arguing about ‘uni tradition’.

I feel like I am about 10 years older than them half the time. They feel like children, even though some of them are the same age and one is older as he missed a year. I am the second oldest but inside I feel ancient.

I feel tired and done in and I just want the grief and the trauma to end. I want normality. I want life without continuing to live in fear that the next stranger who walks through our door is going to be the one who isn’t safe.

I don’t want to go back to my parents as that poses its own struggles. I need this fresh start it is just so damn hard. I want to be greatful for this opportunity but in reality I am breaking and am not at all greatful. I am tired and done in and I want a proper nights sleep with nobody banging on windows or shouting or having music that is loud enough to hear half way across campus.

I want the quiet academia, the partying makes me stressed.

I want to not have this hanging over me every day of my life.

I want my son. I don’t want to pack up and hide away his things when my parents come because they just won’t understand.

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