No Chance. Over my Dead Body. Lived in supported housing when i was 19, and had to put up with the usual crap of your food being stolen, no one doing the cleaning, and filth like beard hair in the shared bath. One bloke, broke the lock off the phone, and ran up a bill phoning sex lines. And they had the bloody cheek to expect the rest of us to pay for it.
Ive done 15 years, thank you of living in crappy accomodation - and now i got my council flat owned by my sister, i want some peace now i turn 50 this year.
Im arsed if im gonna let some poxy support worker manage my money either.
When my husband goes I will have to. I was in state psych hospitals in the past, and I don’t want to end up there again. So I believe a group home would be the only option for me. I worry quite often about what will happen to me if my husband goes before I do.