Moving in with my best friend (part 2)

Shortly after we started making plans, the home care agency for my group home implemented new rules and I started feeling the need to take the next step and move out on my own.  In my home, I now needed to tell a caregiver everything: where I was going, who I was going with, and when I'd be home. It was not a bad place to live and I'm not trying to imply that it was, just that it wasn’t the best place for me any longer.  I was getting tired of the new rules.

There were a lot of rules to keep us safe, but I didn’t feel they applied to me as much and I found them constraining.  We each had a baby monitor in our room in case of an accident or injury in the middle of the night so the caregivers would know about it.  The walls were very thin and it was easy to hear people without a baby monitor. Having one in my room made me feel like I didn’t have enough privacy.  I know they weren’t listening in on my phone conversations, but I felt like a child.  I could talk or yell or use a lifeline device to let someone know if I was having trouble.

The home care agency continued to add rules that I didn’t feel were fair to me.  I had to be signed in or out if I was out of the house and not back in time for supper.  I had a life outside of the group home, but these new rules made it seem like we didn’t, or couldn’t have a life.  It was okay but come on, we weren’t in jail!  I did follow the rules and I didn’t open my mouth to say anything because I knew I would be out soon and living in my own house.

Before I moved out, I wrote a letter to the two caregivers in the home about how much they meant to me and why I wanted to move out.  It was hard for me but now looking back on it, I think it was the right thing to do for me.