This is a rant, so please feel free to walk away from it... I just needed to get it out.

I have a small, run down little house in a historic district in Downtown, Houston. It's not the fancy sort of historic where there are plaques to commemorate people and events, its the kind the city and it's high rolling inhabitants forgot about...well, almost.

I lived in this small, one bedroom home with my parents and three siblings up until I was fourteen about. It was bad then, the park nearby was a gang hangout and all the teachers at the schools were the well-meaning, young kind that really wanted to help the area...I suppose that was the start to what lead to this. They wanted change, and the city responded- so while I moved to a nearby suburb with my family, our little home sat in the midst of architectural growth and change.

My life has been plagued with mental disorders, (that's why I'm here) making it hard to work, and eventually the task fell upon my partner to support us...but a work accident left us homeless and looking back into the little house I had grown in... I was scared, to be honest, a good deal of my issues started back there, the house and it's dark interior survived in my nightmares, but I had no choice- my parents house us and we can't stay here forever... then a change of luck, my partner found a great job and we now have more money than I've ever had in my life...but our credit is shot, when he had his accident we burned many bridges trying to survive. So the house, is still our only option, but now we can change it's face, make it a home again. We plan to fix it up, (are in the process of it) and move in until we get the credit fixed and then lease another home, then rent this little house, and give my disabled mother the proceeds. Sounds good, right?

Well, the house is under my name now, and the repairs are underway! The house of my nightmares is disguised, at least, it looks completely different, the anxiety is washed away like a dream... then out of the blue, our beautiful view of the city is blocked by condos, then all the neighbors sell out and cards come, welcoming us to do the same... but I can't. We've put so much into it, and we had such high hopes to help my parents... so we ignore the real estate agents and continue as planned...
But now the man is calling the police on the construction workers, calling the city- no charges have been filed because we're not doing anything illegal, but the stress of the situation is killing me. When we move, we will take our foster cats with us, they'll be indoors, but I'm terrified to think he'll call to report them... I know there won't be enough for them to call it hoarding, and we definatly don't abuse them, but just the idea of someone coming to the door to look around while I'm home alone is so stressful. I feel like crying, I want to back out. I'm afraid he'll make our lives hell until we sell, but I know we can't just sell, we need this place.

That with the fear of the nightmares and the old memories, it just shakes me. I'm losing sleep, I'm terrified and no one sees it as big of a deal as I do. I know he can't legally force us off, but I'm illogically scared of it. The whole area is changing, can my little house and I survive amongst all the cold, tall buildings?

I am going to see this through, but I just need to vent and I need to do it to people who understand. Thank you for reading all of this! It means a great deal.