My apartment had been my affordable refuge during divorce. Then my landlord sent me the email all tenants dread

My apartment had once been my safe haven. I’d tied a tight budget around it after my divorce, carefully picking a place that felt humble yet manageable. It became more than just walls—I found comfort there, a stable place to regroup when everything else felt unsettled. Then one day came the email from my landlord, the kind every tenant fears. That moment shattered the calm I’d rebuilt.

I still remember the pit in my stomach when I opened that message. It said the rent was increasing, and it would take effect in less than a month. I’d been told in passing it might happen—but to see the numbers laid out so clearly, with so little notice, made it legal and personal. My rent would no longer be reasonable. Suddenly, the refuge I’d counted on turned into pressure.

I felt panic rising. Could I really afford the difference? Every extra dollar counted when your income has dropped and your savings are gone. It wasn’t just about paying more—it was about whether I’d have to move again, restart the process of hunting for a decent home, packing up, saying goodbye to the sanctity of comfort I’d finally earned.

I talked to neighbours—other tenants who’d received the same email. Some were older and on fixed incomes. Some had lived there decades. None could swallow an increase so sharp. We shared relief in company and frustration. It wasn’t just my hardship; this sudden hike felt like a storm within a building we’d invested in emotionally.

I looked up my rights. In Ontario, landlords must give at least 90 days’ notice before a rent hike, and there are yearly limits on how much rent can rise. The email arrived much too late—and the new rent exceeded provincial guidelines. I felt anger and hope: anger at the unfairness, hope that tenants like me aren’t without recourse.

In the end, I decided to speak up. I filed a formal notice, reached out to local tenant supports, and asked for a review. My goal wasn’t confrontation, but fairness. I needed that modest apartment to stay quiet, affordable, and mine—a real shelter, not another upheaval. And I hoped others reading this would see how important it is to know your rights—and that an email, however abrupt or alarming, doesn’t have to feel like the end.