It is Sunday, March 28th 2026.

I have checked out of the motel.

I am at my parents' place for now, sitting on the chair in my room.

I ate the salad and strawberries that I picked up from Food Not Bombs at Kitchener City Hall yesterday, after having 2 आलू पराठा aloo paratha cooked by my mom.

I am waiting to hear back about an apartment in a building that seems to be well maintained and operated competently. A few enquiries have been placed with movers for shifting of larger furniture which I will not be able to shift on my own.

Things are peaceful & quiet. The washer and/or dryer are running a cycle and I have a small heater running in my room.

Planning to be here for now until an apartment is finalized.

Still planning on writing and filing a Human Rights complaint with the UNHRC which will include WHRC/10695 against Singapore, WHRC/10698 & 30181 against Canada.

The door to my room is open. I would usually shut & lock the door immediately upon entering. There are uncomfortable sensations, and feelings. I am doing my best to focus on my breathing and not the unpleasant things. None of these are impediments to me being able to focus on my breathing.
Ate food cooked by my mom for the first time in more than 2 years. No sign of any mental illness symptoms so far. I am not on any medications other than the lowest dose for a medication that I have taken in the past for difficulty sleeping.

Things have been super weird since late 2022.

I didn't want to return to a household that didn't care about my mental health, nor their own. They exploit caste privilege. I attempt as far as possible not to. I am not someone who can easily ignore the truth of the suffering required for the production, maintainence, and consumption of privilege, regardless of the specific type of privilege.

I tried to get my family to family counselling and explained as best as I could to the counsellor there the context of decades of toxic, dysfunctional, hostile interactions. The South Asian, fair-skinned counsellor may have a similar sort of family dynamic herself as she couldn't do anything that would lead to our benefit.
I have been living in a closed, locked room since 2023 April, it has been almost 3 years. There was no point interacting with them, nothing I could say or do that would make them listen or care.
I bought an induction plate, an induction capable kettle, and an induction capable frying pan. I bought a replacement toaster oven. I prepared and ate the simplest possible meals. My mother has been living alongside me for the past 3 years. We have not eaten together in these 3 years until today.

We wouldn't talk about anything at all. We wouldn't eat together.

I lived a solitary, isolated existence. They lived their caste-derived lives. Births, birthdays, anniversaries, deaths have all taken place in these 3 years. I have been locked in a room, attempting to protect my mental/emotional/intellectual/spiritual wellbeing.

Things have been so painful since 2019. Things had been a different type of painful since 1997 when I was 9 years old.

There is nothing that could ever exist which would warrant such suffering.

We keep doing the same things over and over. Nothing changes or improves for the better.

Do people really look at unhoused or poor people and see laziness?
Do people really look at people surviving mental illness and see only chemical imbalance?