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Professional Human

Humans are professionals.

Professionals are humans.

Welcome to the Newsletter...

... for humans who worry about how much of their authentic selves is safe to reveal in so called "professional spaces"

I'm Jess And I'm a Professional Human. Who's too often grappled with just how much of my authentic self is "appropriate" in professional spaces...

...And I'm just really tired of feeling resigned to hiding myself, to toning it down, and to endlessly attempting to acclimate to an outdated professional ideal - aren't you?

Each edition of the newsletter contains the following sections:

• On Being Human
• On Being Professional
• In Hindsight
• Professional Human Strategy
• (Coming Soon!) Spotlights

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Being Human is pretty messy.

We all chase closure and seek meaning because we prefer not to have the messy experience. But the mess can't always be avoided.

Life is super messy atm for -this- Professional Human, so today, we abandon our format and just get real for a minute.

In today’s edition, what it is and what it isn’t, housing security, the principle of acceptance, and maintaining an internal locus of control.

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This edition of Professional Human brought to you directly from the floor of my 12 year old’s bedroom - in my ex husbands apartment.

But Why?

I am unhoused.

*gasp* but Jess!! You just moved last year!! You shared all about it!!

Yes, yes I did move last year, and that was in fact the first of several steps that led to finding myself in this place, here on this floor.

🏠 I had a long term rental headed into the pandemic - we had a 3+ bedroom house. The owner lived abroad world 🌎 and wanted the convenience of a family who would live there indefinitely and care for it as if it were their own.

We moved in early summer 2019, at $1700/month.

Rent control where I live means that rent can be increased incrementally by only a small percentage that is dictated by a regulatory body - usually between 1-2% a year

And throughout the pandemic, they froze all increases for a year.

$1735 ... $1770 ... $1805 ... $1840 ... as you can see, even at the high end increases of 2%, costs increase in a pretty manageable way,

and by 2023 I could have reasonably expected to be paying somewhere between $1770-1805 for a 3 bedroom single unit dwelling.

In 2021, that landlord tried to demand the equivalent of a $600+ increase in our rent to “cover the increasing costs and keep up with the market”

But as you can see, thanks to rent control, that’s clearly an outrageous request.

Since I would not comply, the landlord returned from abroad and we had to find a new home.

The landlord had been right though, the rental market was now obscene.

And from a practical and logical standpoint, maybe I should have just paid their demand.

I ended up paying that anyway, to live in a tiny 2 bedroom apartment for a year,

and now today I am here telling you I’m unhoused -

surely staying in what we expected to be our permanent home, paying about the going rate we are forced to pay now anyway, would have been the wiser choice.

But I couldn’t stand feeling taken advantage like that, extorted.

I know life sometimes isn’t fair, but come on 🙄

Yes yes Jess, I remember you moved into that 2 bedroom apartment a year ago, you shared your downsizing journey with us! Get to the part where you’re unhoused !!

The 2 bedroom apartment…

$2250

At first, it was cramped, but suitable enough.

Two single women lived upstairs, roommates, who didn’t really seem to like each other very much.

One of them was sort of weird and snotty, and the other was perfectly lovely, and aside from the fact that they were pretty property lazy (lawn maintenance etc)

They were fine as far as neighbours go.

I don’t know if you’ve ever lived in a house that’s been separated into 2 residences.

There’s something about the energy - it’s too close, shared, intimate.

It’s different when you’re in an apartment building or a larger multiplex. For an empath like me, it’s a risky set up.

The girls moved on early 2023, and an older single gentleman and his giant dog moved in.

He was a little more difficult to tolerate, a drunk who had no interest in training or controlling his dog 🐶

This great beast would bark incessantly as the old man shouted his name at him, over and over and over 📢

Business meetings were disrupted, sleep was lost,

he never cleaned up the dogs 💩 in the yard,

And he was incessantly obnoxiously chatty and cringey if I ran into him in the driveway (I would hide in my doorway until he went away)

He didn’t last long, an unemployed drunk, unable to pay his rent.

In late June a new family moved in.

Mom, dad, the youngest child my son’s age, and a 20 year old son.

As someone with a past, I can tell you it takes one to know one.

Everything was sweet and fine on the surface in those earliest days, and I truly wanted to believe this family was on a path to better things, just like my family was,

and even hopeful that just maybe I could be a good example, or a symbol of hope or what’s possible, if you keep showing up to do the hard work to improve your circumstances in life.

They came with more people than they said - an additional 2 young women in their late teens/early 20s.

No one ever seemed to leave the house - dad was a roofer, but didn’t seem to go every day.

He was what my fiancé referred to as a 'T to T' - Tuesday through Thursday, union workers who party too hard on the weekends to bother coming in on Mondays, and are too excited to kick it off Thursday on payday to be bothered to go in on Fridays.

The mother never left the house, and the “kids” hardly ever did either.

From the earliest days, we awoke in the morning to cannabis smoke, and the smell of stale bong (if you know you know) filling our apartment.

We attempted resolution with the family on numerous occasions, in numerous stages.

Mom uses cannabis in the middle of the night to manage pain, or so she said.

I tried to be understanding, but it wasn’t fair for us to wake up like that constantly.

It began to take a toll on my family.

My son would bemoan the smell of smoke in his room,

And I felt powerless to do anything about it,

🌚 late in the evenings when I’m depleted of all energy and lack the spoons to go upstairs and do something about it

And even if I did still have my wits about me at that time of night, what was it going to accomplish, really?

Pretty soon, it wasn’t just cannabis and bong smoke,

and it was more than just cigarette smoke ⚠️

Most people can recognize cannabis smoke,

but most obviously don’t know what burning chemical drugs smell like,

And so if someone else had lived below this family,

it might not have been so bad for them.

Did you know that smell is the strongest sense tied to memory?

... every time my home filled with that putrid burning electronics smell, I was transported to places I had no interest in revisiting,

Places where bad things happened to be because I was in a vulnerable state,

Because I spent a good portion of my life from 16-32 in active addiction,

Active addiction took me to some terrible places

With terrible people

And terrible acts.

I’ve done a lot of work to make peace with that part of my life, but that peace involves honouring but not dwelling in those memories.

Which is pretty impossible under those circumstances.

I filed reports with my landlord, at which point the behaviour from the family upstairs intensified - all pretence was lost, since they now knew I had “written them up”

They were also constantly at war with one another, violence and vitriol pounding down through their floors into our ceiling,

Traveling through the vents and wall sockets,

The anger and hostility polluted our home,

Even more toxic than the various smokes and smells ☣️

My son didn’t want to come home anymore, all but resigned to living in this room I write to you from now.

We don’t take it seriously enough I don’t think,

As a society,

How vital a safe, secure, peaceful place to call home,

To rest and recharge, to shut out the outside world for a while,

Is to wellness and productivity.

My family was robbed of our sense of peace and security,

Our home turned into a toxic mess.

We yearned for that sense of peace.

Finally, at the end of September, just days before our 1 year anniversary of occupying what we affectionately dubbed “the Hobbit Hole”

I couldn’t take it anymore.

I had to get out.

We were broke - the cost of living shot up so much this year,

and the economy dipped and the work became harder to line up,

But it didn’t matter.

We rented a Uhaul, put all our stuff in storage,

And got the ^&%* out!

in the interest of protecting our physical and mental health.

And so here I am, on the floor of my ex husbands apartment, unhoused,

But grateful.

Occasionally even joyful.

I am much luckier than a lot of individuals, and families, some with small children, in similar situations.

Housing security is a vital part of a person’s foundation.

Without housing security,

A person has very little to give to other aspects of their lives,

As is represented by Maslow’s Hierarchy of needs.

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I am lucky because I had somewhere to land,

Others,

⁉️ They might have been stuck in that toxic unhealthy situation.

⁉️ They might have been triggered into a relapse of their own.

⁉️ They might have found themselves unhoused and on the streets, instead of unhoused and awkwardly crashing on the floor.

I am safe, warm, dry, and most importantly, I am with my son.

He is in a familiar, stable place,

We are together

Happy and healthy and ready for whatever comes next

I know some people are watching me,

Wondering how it is that I find myself in these circumstances,

Certain their must be more to this story 📕

Because people who are familiar with my history,

They know I was in the grips of active addiction for a long time,

And frequent moves and inability to maintain housing were common symptoms of that behaviour

I know some must be worried that the only reason I could possibly find myself in these circumstances,

Is a return to old ways, that I’m hiding and too ashamed to admit to.

Which makes sense, from an outsider’s perspective.

But you know what it actually is?

It’s because for the first time in my life, I am healthy, happy, well adjusted, emotionally regulated.

Sure, the circumstances appear to be more dire than I managed to find myself in before,

even as a hopeless drug addict, I always managed to pull something off in the clutch,

That was only because in that hopeless state, I was never above taking advantage of others to meet my needs.

I never had to find myself in circumstances like these because my grandparents love me and my son and would do anything to take care of us,

My mother too.

And what are they going to do when I stand there in front of them holding my baby sobbing some over-the-top-woe-is-me-too-tall-tale,

Send us away and tell us to figure it out?

I had no problem telling stories,

In order to meet my needs, and the needs of my son.

And unfortunately at the time,

My needs for drugs and alcohol always came first,

and so I made damn sure I met -those needs-

and then when there was nothing left to take care of my son, I turned to the family who loves us.

It looks from the outside like I am at the lowest I’ve ever been, but I assure you that is not the case.

I am here today because I have a strong sense of personal responsibility and accountability. A strong sense of humility and willingness. A sense of faith

The housing market is obscene, I was chased out of my home,

Events clearly outside my control.

But I still maintain that internal locus of control,

And I know that as long as I draw breath,

I have choices.

They might be terrible choices, but they’re choices just the same,

and they’re mine to make.

I chose not to beg my family to bail me out this time.

I chose to allow myself to feel a little bit awkward, coming to stay with my ex husband.

I chose to accept that I don’t know what’s supposed to happen, but I am comforted by my faith in the idea that it’s all happening just the way it’s meant to.

Growing happens when we’re uncomfortable, and boy is it uncomfortable down here on my ex’s floor 😂

BUT, if the rate of growth is directly related to the degree of discomfort, man oh man, good things are in store!

I cannot wait to see all the ways I shoot up 🌳

and blossom and bloom in the coming spring 🌸

PS

Life is hard for a lot of people all around the world right now. I have a global audience. I want you to know first and foremost that I hope that you and everyone you love are safe, and together.

This is not a political issue, or about alignment with a specific country or cause,

This is an issue of humanity and dignity, where we should be more concerned about the safety and security needs of all citizens, regardless of these invisible lines defining arbitrary borders and allegiances.
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I hope you are safe and secure lovely reader, and the ones you love. If you ever need to talk, my inbox is always open 🤗