I’m moving to a new place at long last. I’m over-the-moon. Years of San Francisco rent being too damn high is finally starting to turn around. I found a sweet little garden apartment in a quiet neighborhood. Just my speed. While I’m full of excitement and anticipation, I’m also crumbling.
I wish I could share this with my mother. She’s been unmedicated and unsheltered homeless for years now. She won’t accept a phone due to her delusions, so our contact is sporadic.
I’m embarrassed even writing about my new home when my mother doesn’t have one. I find myself searching for details, for evidence that I’m not a terrible daughter.
Unfortunately, her overpowering delusions keep her from taking shelter. “Reasoning with her” does nothing. The healthcare system does nothing.
My dad passed last year. My only brother many years ago. The combination is beyond words for me right now.