From the messages I’ve been receiving, I can see that many clients are curious about why I’ve left Castelldefels and am now in Tunisia with no return date.
Well, circumstances have led me to stay in Tunisia for the next three months, and after that, we’ll see. What’s clear is that I won’t be going back to Castelldefels.
Why? Because (I don’t like blaming others), but by thinking too much about other people, I’ve ended up, as they say, without a permanent home.
Since I decided to return to Madrid to help Ahmed, my husband — and even though my family doesn’t believe it — to also help my mother, I haven’t been able to settle anywhere.
My family still believes I do everything out of self-interest. What kind of interest would I have in living with my parents, in a place where I can’t do my job properly and can’t practice nudism freely because my father forbids it under certain circumstances?
I’ve already written several times about my relationship with my parents and how I tried living with them to lend a hand. But they interpreted it as me wanting to kick my father out and stay with my mother in their house.
I wrote about the first attempt at living with them, but not about the second or third, honestly.
The second and third attempts were disasters as well. Every time I disagreed with my father or contradicted him or defended my mother, he would completely lose it — twisting everything around, manipulating the conversation, yelling, insulting, and kicking me out of his house over and over again.
Both of my parents are toxic — for different reasons — but being around them is toxic. My mother criticizes everything, and my father thinks he knows everything, and listening to them is just unpleasant.
But of course, they’re my parents. What can I do? I just accept them.
They’ve spent their entire lives arguing; one doesn’t know how to keep quiet, and the other doesn’t either — the usual story of both always needing to be right. That’s gotten to the point where they’ve even called the police on each other. Now they even have a restraining order, so my sister and I try to keep them separated.
My father loses his temper really quickly — he can’t help it — and the way he talks, he doesn’t even realize it, but he sounds like he’s about to kill you. My mother tries to change, but throughout the day, she throws jabs at you, criticizes you, and says things that make it impossible to have a peaceful day without an argument.
Now they’re making me aware that when I was little — because even though my mother says that at 18 I was no longer a child (but now, at 52, I can clearly see that at 18 you have no idea about life or consequences — you’re still mentally a child) — well, it turns out that after all these years, because they need to dig up dirty laundry to defend themselves and come out on top, they’ve gone as far as to blame me for someone’s suicide. Something I wasn’t even aware of causing at the time.
Apparently, I was stealing money from a cocktail bar they owned, and at that age, I denied everything. So they blamed the cleaning lady (with no proof), and she was the girlfriend of the bartender. Turns out that the bartender ended up committing suicide because of that accusation against his girlfriend, or something along those lines.
So now, just a few months ago, I started hearing from my mother and father that “this shows what kind of person you are” — that I lied, and someone died because of me. And they’ve started using that as a way to defend themselves.
Ugh!!! Now comes the emotional blackmail to make me feel guilty!
Well yes, that’s exactly how my parents are.
Now I understand my bipolar disorder and my psychotic episodes.
Back to the present—since my parents were doing so poorly, I invited my mother to my home in Castelldefels. At first, she was going to stay for three weeks, but she ended up staying for two months—until my planned trip to Switzerland. My mother even wanted me to cancel that trip so I could stay with her. But this time, I did think about myself—for once—and I went to my friend’s wedding and enjoyed working peacefully in Zurich.
The idea was that after returning from Zurich, my mother and I would go to Tunisia. I already had the plane tickets. I wasn’t giving up my apartment in Castelldefels, and we’d see what came next. The plan was that my mother would stay with me until she sold her house and bought a place of her own. And after that, we’d figure things out.
But everything changed. I got back to Castelldefels, and after a conversation with my flatmate, he told me he wanted me out—he even gave me a deadline. He said he didn’t want to live with an older person, and suddenly my profession bothered him too—worried that someone might find out we lived together and connect the dots. I guess he thought I’d ruin his reputation.
Honestly, I was very disappointed. It made me feel awful.
But in the end, it was for the best, because he’s a toxic person. We reached a point where we argued about everything.
For the past few years—since I met Ahmed, my mother, and this person, Sergi (who I’d known for about 20 years, though you never really know someone until you live with them)—I haven’t stopped arguing. I’m exhausted from all the fighting.
Before going to Castelldefels, my original destination was my friend Nacho’s apartment in downtown Valencia. It was all clear—I was moving to Valencia. But my so-called friend Sergi wrote to me saying he had lost his mother, was feeling terrible, and needed to talk.
I called him, and he told me one of his flatmates had moved out and asked if I’d be interested in renting the room with Ahmed. I told him the plan wasn’t to live with Ahmed, but if we did, it would be in separate rooms. And surprise—his other flatmate suddenly also said he was moving out. So I thought, why not move to a house where Ahmed could come too, and I’d be living with a friend. I was tired of living alone, and it seemed like a good solution for everyone. So I canceled Valencia and chose Castelldefels instead.
Of course, I went from a super clean apartment in a great location in Valencia to a place with amazing light and views—but full of dirt and junk that had been there for 10 years.
My first month was all cleaning and organizing.
According to Sergi, I just did whatever I wanted in that house. But all I did was improve it—as much as he allowed me to. I would’ve done much more.
After 8 months, my friend is finally getting over the loss of his mother and now doesn’t want to live with an older person—he says that’s what his father is for.
It was an unexpected situation, my mother living with us. And as a friend, he should’ve thought, “Let’s help Cris and her mother.” But no. Cris, people don’t think like you do.
In my life, I want people who are there when I need them, just like I’ll be there when they need me. And this friend—who I thought was a friend—over the past 8 months showed me that he isn’t. He’s only in it for himself. He’s one of those people who doesn’t ask you for favors so he doesn’t have to return any. I don’t want people like that in my life. Who says to you, “You can stay, but your mother can’t”? What do you even say to that?
Ugh… I think he wanted to fuck me, and since that didn’t happen, now he doesn’t want me around. That’s it. Straight male friends—when they realize they have no chance with you—stop being friends.
What disappoints me the most is that he didn’t even try to handle it differently. He acted from a position of power.
What kind of friend does that to you? Either someone sick with an addiction or just a bad person.
I choose to believe it was the addiction, and as a friend, maybe in time I’ll forgive him. In the end, he did me a favor—kicking me out of a toxic person’s life and a toxic environment.
I’ve been kicked out of a few places in my life—I’m used to it by now. I’ve trusted people I thought were kind and real friends. But then you discover they were just interested in what they could get from you.
In Madrid, after getting out of the psychiatric hospital—I think it was after my fifth psychotic episode—I was living at a friend’s place, and he also kicked me out because of my profession. My profession is the perfect and convenient excuse. And another guy who also offered me his home—it wasn’t even me who asked this time—he offered it when I wasn’t yet working as a sex worker. Another one who accepted me… until he decided he didn’t want me in his house anymore. He kicked me out. And with time, I accepted him back as a friend. Of course, in the end, things fell apart again, and he showed his true colors. Selfish people.
You really have to be careful with so-called friends.
This last time I tried living with a friend, I just wanted to feel less alone when I moved to a new city. But honestly, after 8 months, it was the place where I felt the most alone.
Like the landlord in Paris, who—just one month before I was supposed to return to the studio—rented it to someone else. This studio that my previous flatmate, my friend Carlos, and I had left in amazing condition—19m2 that looked great (and clients can confirm this). And just like that, the guy rents it out to someone else a month before I was set to return, even though I had left my furniture, kitchen items, and personal belongings there, because it was obvious I was coming back. What a complete lack of respect.
And not only that—I even called him to let him know I was coming to Paris. I gave him the dates, told him I wanted to collect some of my personal things. He said, “Let me know when you’re here.” So I called when I arrived in Paris for a two-week stay. He told me, “Call me the day you’re coming—I’ll be here.” I called him from the train—was going from the 13th to the 16th arrondissement—and when I arrived, he didn’t answer the phone. Just like that. No shame.
So how am I supposed to settle somewhere, rest my back, ease the pain, and save money to buy a new home? Impossible.
I’m once again starting over, looking for where I’ll settle next. Now thinking of my mother—because my mother is coming with me. We argue, which is normal, but she’s my mother.
Now I’m looking for a rent-to-own apartment.
If anyone has or knows of a house for sale and is willing to accept a rent-to-own agreement, please let me know
