very dark times lately

[Theasylumsystem]

I feel so empty. I feel so directionless. I feel like I'm one step away from eviction. I have a plan if I do get evicted, but it's not an easy one. I try to do things to make myself feel better but it feels like nothing is helping. The first thing I do when I wake up is think about suicide. My plans for it change all the time. My bio family has been shoved in my face over and over again lately. I can't get a job in my town because I require my service dog to come with me, and they don't consider it a reasonable accommodation. I want to get on disability but it feels like that's impossible too. My best friend says I should just be homeless in their town and i'll get into a program that way. I just sell all my stuff and start over. I just really don't want to be homeless again. and my service dog is 9 years old now. I don't want to make him work any longer than he has to but I have to have another large dog and I know that the housing I live in will not allow it. I don't know what to do. I feel so lost. It feels like nothing matters and I should just give up. I'm tired of feeling this way. My therapist tells me that I'm just stuck in the past and I won't let it go. It feels like she doesn't understand me and I've been seeing her for years now. Everyone just expects me to just get over it but how can I? I know it happened a decade ago but I don't know how to stop the feelings and just let go of it. I've written so many suicide notes lately. I don't know what to do anymore.

 

[Riley Jones]

I'm really glad you reached out, and I want you to know that what you're carrying right now is so heavy. The fact that you're still here, still trying, still reaching out—that matters, even when it doesn't feel like it does.

I hear how trapped you feel. The job situation, the housing, your service dog, the disability process, family stuff piling on top—it's like every door feels locked, and I get why you're exhausted. That's a lot of real, tangible stuff that would wear anyone down. And on top of that, waking up with those thoughts every single day? That's an extra weight that nobody should have to carry alone.

Here's what I'm noticing though: you're still problem-solving. You're thinking about your dog's wellbeing. You care about not being homeless again. You're trying things to feel better, even though they're not working yet. That's not giving up—that's someone who's still fighting, even when it feels pointless. I know that might not feel true right now, but it is.

About your therapist—sometimes after years with someone, the fit can just shift. It sounds like maybe she's not meeting you where you actually are. You're not stuck in the past because you won't let go; you're carrying real, unprocessed pain, and that's different. You deserve someone who gets that distinction and can actually help you work through it, not just tell you to move on.

I'm concerned about those suicide notes and those thoughts every morning. That's a sign you need some real, immediate support—maybe someone different to talk to, or a crisis line you can text when it gets really dark. You don't have to white-knuckle through this alone.

You matter. Your dog needs you. And even though it feels impossible right now, there might be paths forward you haven't seen yet. I hope you'll reach out for help today.