The Mood Changes

All of a sudden, things are very different here. The reason why is simple: the alcoholic housemate has returned. If I hadn’t text him on Friday night to ask him when he was planning to come back, I would never have found out that he was just intending to stroll in on Saturday morning as if nothing had happened.

And nothing has happened. Or changed. As predicted, it takes more than 13 days at home to try to get over such big problems. Within a few hours of his returning, the Southern Comfort was out, and that was that for the evening. He shouldn’t be here. He really shouldn’t. I cannot believe his parents have let him return. But I guess he’s his own person, and they may well have tried to make him stay.

My view is that he simply must leave University. The pressures here are too much for him to concentrate on getting over his illness. He is in extreme denial about his alcoholism, but you show me an alcoholic who isn’t.

What I find extremely rude about the whole situation is that his parents have not even offered me the courtesy of a phone call to tell me a) exactly what’s going on and b) that I should contact them immediately if I am worried so that I don’t have to feel under pressure or the responsibility of looking after him. He is ill. Mentally ill. This is such a bad environment for him.

But what’s now made it worse it that the daft bugger is now definitely not going to be living with us next year. While this is something of a relief, it was entirely unintended. I asked him when he came back yesterday if he’d had any touch with our former housemate in Hull (known as “Y”) who is organising where we’re all going to live next year. He told me he hadn’t.

Within minutes I got a frantic phone call from Y saying he had put a deposit down on a house for 6 people. Though if my alcoholic housemate were to be involved it would need 7. The reason being that Y had got in touch with the alcoholic one during the past week after all, and he had assured Y that he was going to live on his own, and that we should all organise something separately. So Y acted in good faith, and did so.

It emerges that my current housemate had obviously decided to change his mind because he wasn’t prepared to tell me to my face that he was organising something by himself. He thought he’d try to wriggle his way out of the situation, totally ignoring the fact that the chances of me and Y not talking to each other about the problem were a certainty.

So I had to confront my housemate yesterday. He buckled very quickly and apologised for lying to me, then admitted he had been looking for a house on his own for some time. When he was planning on telling me, I don’t know.

The upshot is that we are rid of him. This is quite a turnaround, given that we were all happy to live with him, and I thought I was going to be. Suddenly he’s going to have to look after himself. How that’s going to work out for him, I don’t know. I still consider him as a friend, and I’m now going to be really worried for him next year. He shouldn’t be left to his own devices, and yet it’s exactly what he wants. Probably so he can drink without anyone telling him they’re worried.

The more I think about it, the more it seems he needs sectioning. It’s a ludicrous situation. He has no rational thought processes any more. Someone is going to have to start taking decisions for him before it’s too late. This is just way beyond me now. I can’t help. Munching happy pills doesn’t help either. In some ways, it will be a relief. I feel a little guilty, but then he has made the situation himself by confirming categorically to Y that he wants to live on his own. I’m just worried that he won’t explain that vital fact to his parents, who are now surely going to think we’ve all cut him adrift, and wonder what kind of “friends” we are.

How the hell did I end up in this mess?

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