Complaining

As I've written before I've had some issues with the flat above me being obnoxiously loud and putting offensive notes through my door. I promised myself when it happened that I'd make a formal complaint if it happened again - with a single incident I didn't deem it worth the fear that I'd feel as a response of 'telling on them'. Doubtless it harks back to telling the teachers when I was bullied at school, but any time I complain about someone to an official body - even anonymously - I get absolutely terrified that the person I'm complaining about is going to find out that it was me that made the complaint and come and shout at me.

The night before last my boyfriend was here, and whilst we were in bed there were three loud knocks on the ceiling - or the floor, to the person that did it. We weren't being loud at all; my bed creaks a bit because there's no carpet in there (which is not my fault) and because, you know, beds creak - and as my support worker put it earlier, 'unless your boyfriend is some sort of stallion or you like literally screaming then it's not a nuisance'. Which amused me. Despite not being at all embarrassed about my sexual activity, there's something a bit difficult about saying that someone's getting upset because my boyfriend comes over once a week. I end up sort of sheepishly shuffling and going "umm I'm not noisy, honest...we do our best to be quiet and considerate".

But frankly, I have to live in this building too, and I will not extend my consideration to stopping doing something that I enjoy quite a lot and am already trying to be considerate about. It's not like it's waking people up or at obscene times of night either. If I systematically hoovered my entire flat at 3am on a weekday morning then I'd understand the complaint. I wouldn't mind so much but whoever it is that lives there is hugely hypocritical; because most days they've got their music on so loud that my living room literally vibrates. They've had parties there, not frequently but sometimes. I don't mind hearing noise; we live in a block of flats, we are going to hear noise - but there's a level of consideration that needs to happen.

So when those three loud knocks came onto my ceiling, I had a panic attack. I burst into tears and I am so, so glad my boyfriend was there because I felt absolutely terrified. I still do now, though in a more controlled way. It's like discovering that your armour has a potentially fatal crack in it. All I can keep thinking is that I am not safe, I am not alone, I can't escape the people who want to bully and harass me. Obviously I'm fully aware that a lot of this is exaggerated by my condition and lack of logic, but anyone would be distressed by it.

Originally I wasn't going to complain. But my support worker came over and I just...I needed to do it. I needed to hold in the acute terror of being caught telling, of confrontation. I need to accept that it's okay to be annoyed with people who aren't being considerate towards you or are harassing you - like hey, putting threatening and offensive letters through someone's door! Delivered by hand, just to add that extra degree of threat. Every time I hear a door go in the building I freeze. Every time I hear voices I feel like running and hiding, like turning all the lights off so that no one knows I'm here.

I hate it here. I cannot leave soon enough - but I shouldn't let people walk all over me whilst I'm waiting to escape.