If it comes down to losing everything, I’m going to kill myself.

Because you can’t expect me to just get over losing everything. Anyone who expects me to experience that and just cope with that is no friend of mine. Yes, I understand there are people who have gone through homelessness and losing their material possessions and have come through that stronger, but I do not wish to be another one of those people. Where is the line drawn between “can” and “should”? Yes, I’m sure I can, physically survive losing everything, if you tie me to a chair, kicking and screaming, while I watch everything being torn away from me, tossed onto the sidewalk or into the garbage. Yes, I’m sure I would eventually be forced to cope with such a traumatic ordeal. But I do not wish, do not want to live through such an experience. I do not want to be homeless. I do not want to lose everything. I don’t fucking care if losing everything brought some people into a state of nirvana or whatever; I don’t want to lose everything.

But I am terrified that I cannot stop this. Yes, I technically have the money to pay the rent. But I am not the one on the lease, nor am I the one in charge of the finances. All of my money went into a shared bank account that I’m not allowed to touch. But my mom who is in control of the finances is no longer physically nor mentally well in my eyes. The landlord is fed up with her being difficult and is going to evict us. (But to be fair to my mom, he has become a bit of an ass himself… you don’t violently bang on the door of someone who is clearly suffering from anxiety when you just want them to sign some simple paperwork. Nor do you lie to them about agreeing to lower the rent and then demand they pay the original price. He should have stood his fucking ground instead of lying to my mom or expecting me to tell my own mother what to do, when she has told him not to make deals with me.)

I am going to lose my mind. I’m losing my fucking mind. I can’t take this anymore. I don’t have anyone who can help me. In May, the day I had my first job interview, I came home to see a green eviction notice on the fucking door. The best advice I could get (from a school counselor) was to pack two bags full of my awful, shitty clothes (when what I really care about is my artwork and old computers and photos and sentimental things) and to call a bunch of useless phone numbers or (from my friend) to rent a storage unit behind my mom’s back when I’m not allowed to even touch the bank account…  I ended up taking a massive unsubsidized student loan literally the last day possible to pay the rent and talked to the landlord begging him to give us time to pay him and eventually convinced my mom to talk with the landlord and pay him… a bit less than what I agreed to.

But my mom was so fucking difficult with signing some paperwork a few weeks ago, so verbally abusive to everyone (to be fair, because she was upset that the landlord had sued her and ruined her record and wasn’t honest in holding up his end of the deal to send a letter saying that the unpaid rent was now paid in full) that the landlord refused to pick up his phone.  THESE TWO WILL BE THE DEATH OF ME. I spend the last three months working my ass off on my first-ever job, never getting to spend a single dime of my newfound income, hoping that it will provide some security and safety, ALL FOR NOTHING. He told us this time he’s going through with the eviction because two months haven’t been paid (though he said in May that June was paid, guess that was a lie) and to tell my mom to find a new place. But she won’t. But I can’t. I can’t fight my mom, I don’t have time between work and preparing for my last semester in university, I don’t have friends who can help (or know), and a great way to lose my job would be to announce to everyone there that I don’t have a normal and put-together life. My mom will prevent me from putting anything in boxes. She has gone completely paranoid, keeps the phone ringer off at all times, and thinks that if somebody is home, they can’t evict us (which is bullshit, I know). She rambles on for hours, often driving me into the bathroom because it’s the only room with a lock, has broken things, threatened to break my laptop (which I rely on more than anything), has hurt herself (when I got upset and locked the door with the chain for a couple minutes one time… I didn’t know she was going to break her ribs on the door!), and she’s overall neglected herself and the place. Plus she’s really sick and coughing and refuses to see a doctor (but last time she did, they practically ignored her symptoms…). I miss when she used to be reasonable and reliable. Even if she controlled the finances and stuff, I didn’t mind because she actually took care of things and ensured we were okay. But now she’s dragging us both down, and I don’t know what to do. She demanded I block the landlord (from my online phone number), which I had to do to keep my sanity from her screaming, because she thinks it’s my fault we’re in this situation because I contacted the landlord behind her back in May, because I undermined her authority and compromised their relationship. But he was already in the process of evicting us when I contacted him. How can she not see that I’m the reason we weren’t kicked out the first time??? And I should add that the reason we’re having trouble with the landlord is because my mom didn’t want to bring me to a section 8 recertification appointment because I had classes at the time (or because she can’t deal with me or some shit), and we lost our housing assistance months ago. If I knew this situation would have escalated so badly, I would have forced myself to go with her. She just wants me to focus on school (and work) and not get involved with the landlord because it’s none of my business. But how the hell is this shit not my business when it directly affects me?!

I have been depressed for years, years, and I feel like every time something good happens, two horrible things happen. When things are good, I can be happy. I’m pretty sure I don’t have chemical depression, but something shitty is almost always going on around me. I actually enjoy my job, and if I pretend everything is fine, I can be happy for a few hours, but then I come home or check my messages or get some sort of reminder and everything comes crashing down. I kind of miss when I was just having trouble juggling assignments without help and meeting deadlines (speaking of which, I’m approaching one for a class I’m incomplete in that I have to finish before summer ends… fucking hell…). And I fucking hate the stress of the education system. But this is too much. And it’s not fair! I took a massive loan and spent months working for what? To lose everything?! While my friends get to go on vacation or get new game consoles or go to conventions or buy a new car…?! I’ve always been poor, and I’ve barely experienced half of what my friends have because I’ve been so fucking limited.

I never had a phone. I never had a date nor a boyfriend. I never got to wear/buy my own outfit. I never had a birthday party. I never went on a real vacation. I’ve never left my state. I never had a car nor a drivers license. I’ve never been to a club nor a concert. I’ve never gone on a shopping spree, not even a small one. I spent so many childhood summers practically isolated, without seeing a friend for months. The list of things I’ve never done can go on and on… And I’m a 25 year old woman.

My chest hurts from this constant stress. I feel like even if I survive this, I lost years of my life in the past few months. I don’t want to lose my belongings, my home, my mind, my mom, my job, my graduation, my life, but I don’t see a way out. I’ll try to beg the landlord in a couple days if my mom doesn’t take care of it (and I doubt she will… but she said if I blocked him, maybe he’d pick up the phone when she calls? I doubt it…), but I don’t know what to say, and it sounds like the landlord won’t listen. I’m so scared.