One of my goals this year was to finally gather up my little family, which consists of myself, Hayden, and our 1.5 year old golden retriever, Sophie, and find us a forever home. Hayden and I, despite being together for over four years, currently live in separate households, as we navigate life– careers, finances, owning a dog, and everything in between.

I keep coming back to my hometown. In August of 2019, I moved to Sarasota for college, but swiftly got ‘kicked out’ only seven months later upon the arrival of the COVID-19 pandemic. Just as I was starting to find my footing. I came back home.

In 2021, Hayden and I traveled west to Texas, which was never supposed to be permanent, but after about a month, felt like it could be. Until it felt like it couldn’t be. We came back home.

A few months later, in the summer of 2022, I randomly applied to one job and one job only– an internship in Chicago. Just for fun. I got selected to interview, then again, then one more time, and then I got the job. We packed up our lives and moved to Chicago on a whim. Our sweet teenage co-worker asked if he could come with us. We said sure. Our other co-worker, and good friend for years, we’ll call him Trent, asked to come with us, too. We said sure. We figured the more money we could save on rent, the better it would be for us.

Our first apartment fell through, due to no fault of our own. The landlord wanted us to sign the lease in person, so we got the U-Haul all packed up, and started our journey. Hayden and I would take my little Ford Focus, and the other two would take the U-Haul with all of our stuff and Trent’s two dogs. But alas, as the U-Haul pulled out of the driveway, it shut down. It totally stopped working. And on top of that, it was Sunday, so the U-Haul places were all closed and we couldn’t get a replacement. We told our landlord we’d be up there by Tuesday, and he pulled out. At this point, my job was supposed to start the next week, but we had to find another place to live. They pushed back the start date for me.

Monday, we found an apartment and signed on for it the same day. Everyone over 18, which was all of us, had to be on the lease. Two of my roommates had no credit score, so we had to get guarantors. Which was fine, and not completely abnormal. We just did it all so fast and so desperately. After we already signed the lease, we learned the apartment wouldn’t be ready for move-in for two weeks. In order to get to my job that I so deeply wanted to commit to, Hayden and I drove my Ford Focus up to Cincinnati, Ohio to stay with my brother in his student dorm. For two weeks, we commuted back and forth four hours to Chicago and back to Cincinnati for my job.

I still look back on this and am in total awe at Hayden’s willingness to do all of that for me. So that I could have a taste of my dream job. When we were in Chicago, we were in hotel rooms. Sketchy, cheap ones far away from my job in the heart of downtown. Then we were back in Cincinnati, because even the sketchy, cheap ones added up. No one else would do that for me.

Come move-in day, we learned Trent hadn’t paid any of his move-in fees. Hayden and I were so desperate to just get into our place after two weeks of being basically homeless. Trent wasn’t answering his phone all day. It was 4:50. The landlord’s office closed in ten minutes. We could not afford another night in a hotel. I paid Trent’s move-in fees for him. All $5,000 including his deposit, pet rent, his part of our first month’s rent, admin fees, key fee, and whatever-the-hell-else fees. On top of the $2,000 I had already paid for my part. He called me with tears in his eyes promising to pay me back.

We moved in on June 20th, and the first few months were very smooth. Hayden got a job, then Trent and our third roommate got jobs, and I was thriving at my internship. When I wasn’t working my internship, I was dogsitting and finishing up my online classes. We were making friends and finally getting to live out our rom-com big city dreams.

Imagine my surprise when our teenage roommate calls us in November. Hayden and I drove back to our hometown for Thanksgiving– the first time we were able to see our families since we left. The other two stayed back in Chicago. Our roommate says that a police officer knocks on our door with an eviction notice.

My world crumbled down at my feet. Trent had begged to be the one in charge of paying rent when we first moved in. We got an email about a missed payment, but he swore he took care of it. Trent, to no one’s surprise, couldn’t pay me back the $5,000 I had covered for him upon move-in. So we agreed that he would cover my part of rent and bills until it totaled the $5,000 he owed me. Which was great for me because I was just getting to keep all of my money. Hayden and our other roommate paid him for rent every month.

I never really understood how it feels, and looks, to be manipulated and abused until I look back and realize that it was me in that position. And yes, I do believe after years have passed, that financial abuse is a real thing, and is real abuse.

Trent was SO good at it. We knew him for years, so he knew exactly how to get us to believe him. He would bring out the tears, the apologies, the promises, the whole nine yards to get us to be on his side again. It was always everyone else’s fault. But even after we got evicted and learned that he was pocketing our rent money for five months, he still somehow, despite everything, got us to believe the best thing to do was to hire a lawyer.

So we did. Correction– I did. I never saw any money from him regarding attorney fees, either. The lawyer did end up helping us by allowing us to stay in our apartment until January, and he got the eviction off of our credit reports, which was the most important thing to me, so I don’t regret hiring one. But we still had to pay back every last dime of the rent– of course— that we missed. That he missed. Even though we had already paid it to him.

Looking back on our situation, it looks so obvious. Anyone watching it play out would yell at us “YOU ARE BEING MANIPULATED, RUNNNNNN AWAY!” But that’s what a Master Manipulator does– he makes you believe that you are not being manipulated. He makes you believe it’s someone else’s fault.

I never intended on sharing this story because for a long, long time, I was so embarrassed by it. How could I not see it? What 22 year old moves to Chicago to live out her dreams only to get evicted 5 months later? I had nowhere to go but back home. I was so embarrassed. Ashamed. Humiliated. I felt like I came crawling back with my tail between my legs. I felt like a failure. I applied to marketing jobs for three months after I came back, only to come up with nothing. I had nowhere to go except back to my old job at the local coffee shop. I felt like even more of a failure. Naturally, since we had only been gone for seven months, everyone wanted to know what happened. Every time someone asked, it was like a dagger in my stomach. A constant reminder of my failure.

I gained 60 pounds, lost all of my money, and I had creditors breathing down my neck. Not to mention, not even weeks after I came back home, my dad got a cancer diagnosis. At 22 years old. I really thought there was no coming back from this. Sometimes, even though it’s been almost 3 years since I packed up that U-Haul with stars in my eyes, I still feel so scared to try. Like if I jump off the roof to try to fly again, all I’ll do is fall. Again.

I’ve come to terms with the realization that none of this was my fault. Again, all three of us were being manipulated by a Master of the game. Trent was ruthless. We desperately wanted to believe he cared about us and would never hurt us like that. Thank God I had Hayden through it all.

As Hayden and I prepare to move out of state again in just a few short months, I feel excitement, but I feel so scared. The fact that I can’t stay somewhere for longer than a few months sometimes makes me feel like something is wrong with me. Like I’m destined to die on the bricks of downtown in my small little hometown that I so desperately want to escape. I can’t help but compare all of my failures to everyone else my age, the people I went to school with– living in different cities, full-time careers, married, traveling, they know exactly what path they’re going down in life.

Then I try to remind myself that Instagram is absolutely no one’s reality.

I try to remind myself that I’ve learned more than a lot of people my age have ever had to. Here are some lessons I learned while I was being financially abused:

• Support systems are essential.
• Never rent from a ‘Management Group’ or a group of collective landlords.
• Listen to the signs the universe gives you. If your U-Haul breaks down the day you’re supposed to move, maybe consider the fact that you’re not supposed to move.
• When someone can’t take accountability, they often cry a lot. It’s usually performative.
• If someone in your life is isolating you from your friends, they are manipulative.
• If you ever get evicted, always get an eviction lawyer. Even if you’re in the wrong.
• Apologies are worthless without action.
• Do better at protecting your younger friends from harm.
• Never. Ever. Ever. Lend someone a lot of money.
• Roommates need a written agreement upon move-in.
• If someone can’t pay their move-in fees, don’t move in with them.

Chicago was also never supposed to be permanent. But slowly, it started to feel like maybe it could be. Hayden and I would dogsit for people in their apartments in little suburbs and we would think.. ‘this could easily be us.’ We would walk whichever dog I was watching to whatever coffee shop was closest and think, ‘I really love this.’ The leaves changed in autumn and the snow fell in winter and we would spend the night at apartments all over the city and we could see it. Briefly. Every now and then. We could see it.

We didn’t even get a chance to make that decision for ourselves. Trent ripped that away from us and we are scarred from it. He tried to take away Hayden’s friends– he manipulated Hayden’s best friend into thinking that we were the monsters here. He stole our younger roommates sentimental belongings and pawned them– among other unmentionable, unforgivable things he did to our other roommate, which are not my things to tell. Even his poor, sweet dogs got caught in the crossfire, as one of them passed away in Chicago, likely due to his negligence. I believe now that the three of us rose from the ashes and became better from it, but we will always be scarred.

And so, my goal for this year is to find us a forever home. One that is ours. Just myself, Hayden and our dog. I want to build a new life there. If I’m panicking and breathing into my pillow, and I just need a hug from my mama, I don’t have to get on a plane, I can drive up to my hometown in less than 6 hours. I want to build a community of support and I want Hayden and I to both make new friends and build new memories. I’m scared. And scarred.

But this year, we will do it. We will jump and we will fly.

Hay, thank you for falling with me. I’m so eternally grateful for you.

— mal

young, dumb, & twenty-ish