From as early as I could remember, I longed for a home of my own. Somewhere things eternally remained where I put them (i.e. where they were safest, most convenient, and where I could see them BEFORE I fell over).

Often, home was stressful for me because it was frequented by people who believed I was obligated to them and thus obliged to endure their coercion, and sense of entitlement to any and all parts of my life, and to me as a person. All done completely out of love, of course. Which meant I had no right to refuse or escape, apparently.

Not surprisingly, then, I also desired a place in which only those I actually wanted to see could access. And if I’m really honest, in which I could turf people out when I’d had enough of them!

But, above all else, I wanted somewhere I could do absolutely everything for myself, “Nina style.” 

Because that’s what I thought true independence was. And, because I just really like being in charge.

As I write this, I have been happily living independently for coming up to nine years, and for the most part, all the aforementioned prerequisites have been obtained. Further (SPOILER ALERT), I am still very much alive!

This regularly surprises people. Indeed, when I first moved out, an uncle said, “Congratulations on the new apartment. We never thought this would happen for you.” A truly back-handed compliment, if ever I’ve heard one. Meanwhile, a work colleague told me that my wish for independence was, “very disrespectful to my mother.” Hmmm.

I was lucky, I could afford to buy my own place, and but for a few rails being lowered in the wardrobes, I didn’t need any modifications to be made to accommodate me.

I am a terrible cook, but I can reheat like a pro. And other than mopping and vacuuming, I can pretty much keep the place fit for human habitation myself. Although nowadays I do have a fortnightly cleaner, and I use a meal delivery service occasionally, (no, not Mum) to make things a little easier. As I have now learned that there’s no shame in getting a bit of help.

Nina style housekeeping hack: Get bedsheets one size bigger than your actual bed, it makes wrestling with a fitted sheet much easier, (I’m probably not the first to have thought of this though, and it obviously can’t work for all bed sizes, sorry).

I chose the building I live in because it is very accessible, both geographically and within the building itself. I’m in a 2-bedroom/2-bathroom apartment, which unlike my previous place, has room for me to have pets. So I now have two cats (Tommy and Dash), and for the record, they are very much alive too.

When I need to go out to places I know well, I use taxis, and for anywhere else, I have a Support Worker, who acts as my guide.

For me, moving out has been a very positive experience. And, despite some initial trepidation (mostly sparked from the low expectations of others), it has been quite easy.

The trick is being honest with yourself about your abilities, and having the courage to ask for the help you decide you need. Setting clear boundaries is helpful too. Although, these may take a while for some to grasp and accept.

Stay firm though. Remember, it’s YOUR castle.

Nina writes her own blog Inner Musings of a Funny Looking Kid. She doesn’t receive any support from genU but has jumped on board to share her first-hand experiences of living with a disability and educate the public through her witty musings.

Look forward to quarterly catch-ups with Nina through our socials and website.