My landlord raised my rent by £800 and triggered my PTSD

And then there it was. Email from the landlord. My stomach dropped and my fear increased.

I read the text of the email – it contained emotional blackmail, personal and legal threats – and then came the kicker.

He intended to take me to court for breaking the terms of the rental agreement if I did not vacate the London property immediately. That was in July 2023. He said if I didn’t leave within his two weeks, he would send someone to the house to “inspect the scene.”

What a coincidence that this warning came just three months after he told me he was raising the rent by 50%. I couldn’t pay it.

I took a deep breath and threw the phone away. I guess he had moved.

As a woman living alone with three chronic illnesses: bipolar disorder, ADHD, and PTSD, and a survivor of sexual assault, I knew I couldn’t handle the situation anymore.

The inconvenient truth is that my situation is not unique. Vulnerable people like me are being disproportionately affected by the housing crisis and we need to stop this.

My PTSD stems from my exposure to gang violence while working as a youth worker. I have witnessed many shocking events in my career, but the worst was when a teenage boy was murdered outside a youth center just before I started my shift.

I had to deal with the immediate aftermath and escort a group of mostly young girls who witnessed the murder. The fear you see in their eyes will never leave you.

The estate agent detailed the range of rent increases: from £1,560 per month to £2,383 p.m.

Symptoms of PTSD range from dizziness and disorientation, panic attacks, shortness of breath and heart palpitations, to insomnia, self-isolation behaviors, and flashbacks.

In the summer of 2021, I moved into that apartment. And in less than two years, he felt a sense of stability he had never experienced before. I felt the tranquility of what it is like to live in a safe neighborhood. My PTSD became more manageable and I was able to meet someone special and form a relationship for the first time in years.

Then, in April 2023, my landlord called me and warned me of a rent increase.

He sounded awkward and ultimately almost embarrassed, but explained that he was only doing this because his mortgage payments had increased dramatically. I was polite, thoughtful, and even said I was sorry for his difficult situation. We both knew I couldn’t afford the increase, but it remained unspoken.

A day or two later, I received a call from my real estate agent and an email detailing the extent of the price increase. Rent will rise from £1,560 a month to £2,383 p.m.

When I told my friends about it, they all said the same thing. “Is that legal?”

Desperate, I turned to the local authorities for help. I had several long conversations with men from the homelessness prevention team, some lasting up to 90 minutes.

The man asked me many probing questions on the most personal level about my past traumas, including being assaulted. He confidently told me: “We will help you.” You are a priority need.

I clung to his words as the pressure mounted around me.

When my home appraisal finally arrived about seven weeks later, the woman who answered the phone said, “I haven’t read your case record.” Her voice was cold, detached, and slurred.

She said she had received no support from the council and had no choice but to rent privately. She determined that I was “not homeless” and advised me to continue living in the property after her contract ended, ignoring the price increase and paying rent at the previous rate.

Because I couldn’t find affordable housing to move into, I was physically unable to use my laptop or cell phone for long periods of time because I was suffering from chronic pain physical symptoms. her advice.

As the deadline approached, I emailed the landlord and told him he had no choice but to follow the council’s recommendation, which meant continuing to live in the property and paying rent at the old rate.

A week passed with no response, but then the extreme threats occurred.

The council essentially put me in a fight with my landlord, someone who has far more money, power, and resources than I do. As a result of their advice, my landlord threatened to take legal action against me in July 2023.

People with disabilities currently compete with high-income non-disabled tenants for rental housing, which is in short supply and in high demand.

The nature of PTSD is that it works through triggers. Unfortunately, after this incident, I experienced the worst worsening of my symptoms in years.

Ever since I heard about the rent increase, I was already suffering from insomnia, struggling to eat, and in a state of chronic stress. And after the threat, my nervous system reacted accordingly. Physiologically, I was back in gang warfare.

I went to my GP with a long list of symptoms, from nerve pain to insomnia to heart palpitations and shortness of breath. After carefully studying the entire list, she said, “All of these symptoms are a result of what you’re experiencing.” They’re all related to stress. ”

As a result, she determined that I was at risk of relapsing into the manic episodes of bipolar disorder. However, no treatment was offered to me.

A few weeks after receiving the threatening email, I moved. And while friends helped me, moving while experiencing PTSD flare-ups and chronic pain was overwhelming.

Thankfully, I’m currently staying at a friend’s house who had a spare room for a short period of time, so I stored most of my belongings in storage. This gave me a foundation to rebuild after such a traumatic experience.

I truly believe the landlord took advantage of me. He knew that I couldn’t afford the rent increase due to my disability and used this opportunity to find a new tenant.

To make matters worse, people with disabilities are now competing with higher-income non-disabled tenants for rental housing that is in short supply and in high demand.

Rent prices in central London have increased by 28% since 2019. This means they can no longer afford suitable properties within walking distance of medical services such as psychiatrists, general practitioners and physiotherapists. So I have to travel an hour each way to get to the hospital. I make these promises.

Since this ordeal, I have started therapy and focused on exercise and self-care. I am adapting as best I can to the harsh conditions and rising to the challenge of changing boroughs.

It’s hard to know how many other people are going through this because the majority of the disability community are people who don’t have a platform or a voice. We are under immense pressure and the many challenges we face on a daily basis make it difficult to speak up.

But for me the solution is not that complicated. Vulnerable people and people with disabilities need stable and permanent housing. It’s that simple.