Back before I went to college, my psychiatrist told me that instead of saying I have anxiety issues, I should instead say that I'm disabled because people would better understand that way. So far, it works and most people are very understanding (though I still get the "you don't look disabled!"/"you're too young to be disabled!" bullshit).

Enter Roommate, stage left.

I thought she was nice and that we could be friends, but sadly, that isn't the case. Things were great until my birthday a few weeks ago, when her friend wanted to swap rooms with me.

One of the natures of my anxiety is that I absolutely cannot handle stress. Its been a problem since I was a kid. Instead of just normally freaking out in high-stress situations, I get extremely ill and pass out. With a family history of blood pressure and heart problems, I have to be extremely careful now that I'm older, because too much stress will eventually trigger heart problems and I'll be jolly well fucked even more for the rest of my life. So I evade stress like it's an obstacle course.

Naturally, moving again after such a short period of time will cause this unnecessary stress that will knock me the fuck out, and I can't afford that. I've fought long and hard to get to college away from home, hell, even to get through school in general, because of how bad my anxiety is. So I said no, I'm not fucking moving, no ifs, ands, or buts.

For the next week, my roommate refuses to say anything to me. I don't really care, I'm used to getting the silent treatment for people, and I've got more important shit to worry about, like this big paper I have to write for my communications class.

Last week on Monday, I get blindsided by my roommate saying that we have a mediation with the RA over my "lack of cooperation", and she tells me that a dorm in another hall just opened up and I could go there, and she would help me move so that I wouldn't be stressed.

Another thing that happens when I get stressed/freaked out? I go mute. It becomes almost impossible for me to talk at all and I either need to switch to writing things down or have someone that can speak for me. So I just nod, go to class, and break down. Professor that is a saint ends class early and sits with me until I can calm down. I go talk to the RA afterwards to let her know, hey, whatever my roommate accused me of, I didn't do.

Mediation was problematic, to say the least. My roommate claimed that she has been compromising so much for me and that it would be only fair if I did the same (meanwhile I'm thinking "what compromising?" because she hasn't).

Here's where I get pissed:
- I'm the one that keeps the room tidy.
- I take out the trash every weekend.
- I let her use some of my stuff, like my Keurig, without any complaint.
- I'm very quiet. I listen to my music with my headphones in, I go to sleep when she does, I try to not wake her up when I get up earlier, stuff like that.
- She agreed back in the beginning of the year to vacuum the room and clean the fridge, which she has not done at all. So I do it instead.
- When water came pouring into the room when I forgot to close the window, I offered to replace her stuff that got damaged.
- She's never fucking there. She goes home every weekend and is only in the dorm late at night, while I'm there almost all day doing homework.
- She asked me to not hit the snooze button on my alarm clock so many times, so I stopped doing that.
- I've made it clear several times that I am disabled due to severe anxiety and, even if I had help, there are things that I just cannot do.
- I leave the room every time I need to blow my nose so that it doesn't bother her.

So how the hell am I not compromising?

Mediation ends, RA seems worried about me. The week goes by with few problems. Roommate goes home for weekend, I actually start feeling a bit better.

Then, Monday, I'm once again blindsided by another mediation. This time, it's my roommate, her friend who wants me to move out, the friend's roommate, and her friends. My roommate accuses me of only thinking about myself, says I never should have left home if I was this disabled, I'm stressed by this situation too, yadda yadda. The RA is stunned but can't say anything. I break down crying and say fine, I'll move if you'll stop putting this pressure on me. By now I'm pale, shaking, and on the verge of throwing up. Everyone leaves, RA waits until they're gone, shuts the office door, and calls the coordinator for the residence hall and says we need a real adult, pronto.

I'm crying my eyes out and call my parents, saying no, I don't want to move. Dad flips his lid and calls the head of the housing department, who is an old family friend, and he says he'll take care of it.

Yesterday, I wake up with a godawful headache and see the good news that my only class for the day was cancelled. Coordinator stops by to talk to me and says that I can file for harassment since my roommate didn't drop the subject when I asked her to. Mom talks to the coordinator as well, also fucking pissed. Coordinator agrees and tells me mom that under no circumstances am I going to be moving when she's in charge of my hall.

RA is brought up to speed and agrees with the coordinator, moving would put a dangerous level of stress on me. They tell me that if my roommate tries to bring it up again, they'll help me file a harassment claim if I want to, and if it does need to be brought up again then the coordinator needs to be there to speak for me because of my communication problems. Then, later last night, they talk to my roommate and tell her that she needs to grow up.

Roommate comes back to the room crying about how she needs to compromise even more and calls her mom, so I grab my homework, keys, shower bag, and purse, and leave the room for a few hours. The RA lets me stay with her for a while and gives me some coffee, I tell her that I feel bad, she tells me that I shouldn't because my health should be more important than other peoples' feelings.

Now my roommate is being a passive aggressive snot. I do eventually go back to the room, and when I do I see that she's torn her name sign off of the door. I take my medication and lay down to do some reading before I go to sleep. Roommate is blasting rap music. Sleeping pills kick in and I put the book down and try to go to sleep.

Music still blasting.

Okay, so it's still a little early. Normally I don't go to be until midnight, but last night I went to bed at ten because I wasn't feeling well. Music continues and she's on the phone with her boyfriend.

Despite the noise and the light still being on, I fall asleep because I take enough sleeping medication to knock out a horse. Around one in the morning or so I jerk awake, roommate is still up and talking with her boyfriend.

Only this time it's about me.

"Yeah, she says she's going to file harassment against me and the staff won't do anything about it because they're on her side for some reason."

I'M FUCKING DISABLED AND YOU'RE TRYING TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT TO GET WHAT YOU WANT FOR CHRIST'S SAKE! OF COURSE THE COORDINATOR IS ON MY SIDE!

I've fought too long and too hard to get where I am now, I don't deserve this bullshit.

I thought my roommate was nice. She's not.

Bonus complaint: The stress of this whole situation is making me ill. But I've got three papers to write and a book to read, so no sleeping it off.

Anti-complaint: I have a lovely pudding parfait waiting for me in my fridge for dessert.