My name is Olivia. I’m a woman in my mid twenties with autism and OCD. I was living alone in Japan with my rabbit Croissant until about six months ago, when I was forced to go to the USA for emergency cancer treatment, moving back in with my parents in the process. While the surgeries came and went successfully, they have been the least of my troubles.

Living in Kentucky, on a farm, with my parents who don’t care for cleanliness, in a house that isn’t even up to code for the average person, is hellish for someone like me. They have never attempted to truly understand my conditions, and have gaslit me about their abusive behaviours since I was a child. It was bad enough returning to the house I have so many bad memories with, but the job market and government as a whole right now is making it near impossible to find work that doesn’t trigger my OCD, let alone pays enough to scrape by on my own.

I am kindly asking for help renting my own living space while I search for more permanent work that will pay my bills, while not being a nightmare for my conditions. Any and all donations are deeply appreciated.

If you want more detail on my story, please keep reading. It is graphic at points so please take caution.

My autism and OCD were already hard to grapple with. I knew my parents' house was dirty, and wanted to move out. While in Japan, my OCD basically disappeared, and my autism was somewhat manageable. It had dwindled down to silent crying and silent meltdowns when things got bad, alongside feeling passively suicidal when navigating public transport made me feel like I was too stupid to live. I cried out loud once when I was there, in public, after an earthquake warning, which is interesting because I had previously trained myself to cry silently to avoid being yelled at by my parents. I wasn’t happy before, but I was doing far better then I am currently.

Now that I've moved back to the USA, I have never cried this much, this loudly, this painfully. The first night I was here, I wailed because my mom had broken what little trust I had in her by letting the barn cats into my room, getting my mattress pad dirty. I can’t have filth in my space, it makes me more upset than words can describe.

Thankfully I had the foresight not to trust her too much, and my sheets were relatively safe, hidden in a dresser. I know I can't trust her with anything, but I still try, hoping one day she'll be accommodating or understanding. She never is.

Things are slightly better because I'm living rent free in her friend's garage apartment, but it’s not a place I can stay long term, and I still feel dirty the moment I get out of bed. I still cry and wail every day, but not as loudly, and my parents can't hear it so they don't get angry at me for disturbing their peace. They say I'm making them fear that the neighbours, or the people who come to their farm to visit their horses will hear me crying, and that they'll be arrested for abusing me. My dad came to me when I was crying in the car one day (so I wouldn’t bother them in the house) and threatened me with that very scenario. Our closest neighbour is a couple hundred feet away, and they never go outside, so I'm almost certain he just finds my misery annoying, and attempts to scare me into acting “normal” because he thinks I can control it.

He also told me how I'm crazy, and implicitly saying how gross I am for letting my tears, saliva and snot flow freely. I can’t allow myself the comfort of basic cleanliness when I’m having a meltdown over that very thing, because it's what I believe I deserve. I’ve been conditioned to hate myself, and I constantly look for ways to blame myself for everything.

I can't go back to my parent's house. It will be harder or impossible for me to take steps towards escaping, let alone healing personally.

I don't want to have to cope, I'm tired of coping, it is not helping. I want to be clean, I want to be safe, I don't want to live where people think being dirty is OK. I want a small, clean place that is easy to keep clean. No shoes allowed, no holes, no dirt, no people entering without my permission. Is that ridiculous? Is that impossible? It shouldn't be impossible, my OCD was basically a non-issue in my Japanese apartment. That’s all I think about 24/7 now, and I don't really want to not think about it because it means I'll become complacent and dirty all over again.

Please, I need out of this place. I need my own place, I need somewhere that my rabbit and I can be safe. I’m trying to move forward but nobody around me is helping or understands. The mental health facilities and suicide helplines are useless, all they do is repeat the same unhelpful scripts. The therapists I’ve talked to get mad at me for not looking them in the eyes or just for being upset. Plus, these things are hard to talk about without delving into self degradation and denying my own abuse.

I am not safe, I am not clean, I hate myself. Please help me get somewhere I can hate myself less. Where life isn't so exceedingly hard in every aspect, please.

Thank you for even considering my future and well being going forward. Any financial aid is appreciated, even just a dollar. Croissant and I will be endlessly thankful.