In 2006 I was 24. I was in my last year of living in my mom’s house. I remember, just like it was yesterday, my mom’s house was going into foreclosure, and I wasn’t living at home then, leaving my sister and me to live with each other. Man, that was a struggle.

Earlier that year, I was moving into a house with a guy with cerebral palsy. He was a lot older than me. After getting to know one another, I started to feel that this could not work. Two factors played into it not working out, the age difference between us two, and we had different disabilities. He was a little lower functioning than I was. His mom, at the time, had deep pockets, and because she Had deep pockets, he could live on his own in a house with caregivers.

When the Guys mom had second thoughts about me moving in, I was devasted. My mom’s house was going into foreclosure, and I didn’t have a place to go.

After planning to move into a house with another person with a disability, I had nowhere to go. Time was running out. So, unfortunately, I had to think of a plan B, and that plan B was a nursing home. Even worst, the nursing home didn’t have a good reputation. I was devastated and depressed. At 24 years old and unemployed, I started the realization that I was getting ready to move into a nursing home. I had no other choice. I was not getting a place with my sister; we didn’t get along well enough.

I filled out the paperwork to get into the nursing home.

I came so close to moving into the nursing home.

Luckily I put applications into low-income apartments. I got lucky. One apartment that I filled out an application for called me at just the right time

The apartment that came calling was a low-income apartment, otherwise known as a senior citizens’ apartment.

I was relieved that I was not going into a nursing home and that this opportunity arose. Sure, it’s not a regular apartment, and I would be moving into a senior citizens’ apartment at 24, but it was better than living in a nursing home. The floor of the nursing home where I was going to be moving into the nursing home didn’t have rooms. Al, it was a space for a bed with a curtain as a door.

I always had high expectations for myself, but after a while, reality started to kick in.

People should know that just because you move into a senior citizen’s apartment and you are not old yet doesn’t mean that you don’t have any bills and responsibilities. Living in a senior citizen’s apartment, and a regular apartment for that matter, means you have responsibilities. But that’s what I love about it.

I’ve learned what it means to be independent. I’ve had growing pains and life experiences that have helped me grow.

I would be lying if I said this is how I imagine how my life would go, but at the same time, everybody needs to go through the bad things in life; if it helps people become better humans, that is if you have the right attitude.

Right now, at 41 years of age, I’m my second senior citizen in the city. I love the city. Since I got my electric wheelchair, I’ve visited different places, primarily restaurants.

Some people have to adapt to what there deal with in life.

Looking back on my living arrangement, I put things in perspective and realized it could always be worst.

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