How Much Longer Can I Keep Going Without the Support I Need?

It’s been 3 years. Three long years without steady income, without the security of a paycheck, and without the feeling that I have any real purpose in the work I’m doing. I can hardly recognize myself anymore. Somewhere between my daily struggles to stay afloat and my endless attempts to find something, anything, that feels stable, I seem to have lost who I am. How did I get here? How did everything get so hard?

I look back and think about the dreams I had, the things I wanted to achieve. I dreamed of running my own successful business, of managing people, and making a real difference. There was a time when I felt like I was on the path to something meaningful, something that could transform my life and lift me out of the struggles that seem to follow me. I pictured myself confident, successful, surrounded by a team I could lead. But now, I don’t even know what that dream means anymore. Every day, I find myself battling feelings of inadequacy and failure, asking myself questions that never have answers. What went wrong? Why can’t I catch a break? Why do others seem to succeed so easily while I’m left behind?

The reality is that unemployment changes you. It eats away at your self-worth, your confidence, your identity. When you’re without a job, it’s not just the money you miss. It’s the feeling of belonging somewhere, of being needed, of having a purpose. I miss the routine, the structure, the social interactions. I miss waking up and knowing that I have a place to go, tasks to complete, and people depending on me. Now, every day feels the same. I wake up, search for jobs, send applications into what feels like a void, and get nothing in return. It’s as if I’m invisible. Like my efforts don’t matter, like my skills and my potential are worthless.

Three years is a long time to keep trying without any results. I’ve reached a point where I don’t even know if I’m employable anymore. There’s this stigma that follows you when you’ve been unemployed for so long, an invisible mark that makes potential employers question your capabilities before they even know who you are. And even though I know I’m capable, I still wonder—maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m not good enough. Maybe I’ll never be good enough. But then, if I’m not good enough for a job, what am I supposed to do? How do I prove my worth, to myself and to the world, when every door I knock on remains firmly shut?

I’ve tried everything. I’ve updated my resume more times than I can count, taken on training courses to learn new skills, reached out to contacts, networked, and yet, here I am, still stuck. I’ve even considered lowering my standards, applying for jobs that I’m overqualified for, just for the sake of being employed again. But even those roles, the ones I know I could excel in, slip through my fingers. Each rejection, each unanswered application, feels like another blow, another reminder of how far I’ve fallen. And I wonder—is it even worth it anymore?

And then there’s the financial strain. Every month, I scrape together whatever I can just to get by. Bills keep piling up, and sometimes I feel like I’m drowning in debt. I cut corners wherever possible, but it’s exhausting living like this, always counting every dollar, always worried about what next month will bring. I can’t even remember the last time I felt financially stable. It’s a constant pressure, a weight on my shoulders that I carry around every single day. And as each month passes without any improvement, it’s harder to keep going, harder to stay hopeful, harder to believe that things will ever get better.

The people around me try to be supportive. They tell me to keep trying, that something will come up eventually. But it’s hard to explain to them what this feels like, this never-ending struggle to stay positive when there’s no sign of change. I see them moving forward in their lives, building their careers, and finding success while I’m stuck in the same place, year after year. Sometimes, I feel like a burden to them, like my failure is weighing on them too. And it makes me wonder—am I enough for anyone? Would anyone even care if I disappeared from their lives?

I look at myself in the mirror, and I don’t recognize the person staring back. The spark I used to have, the ambition, the drive, it’s all faded, replaced by an emptiness I can’t shake. It feels like I’m existing rather than living, merely going through the motions day after day. And I can’t help but question what the point of it all is. What am I supposed to do when every attempt to improve my life only seems to lead me further down this dark path?

I know I’m supposed to be grateful for what I have, but it’s hard to feel gratitude when you’re constantly battling feelings of inadequacy, loneliness, and despair. People say that everything happens for a reason, that I’m being prepared for something better, that my struggle will one day make sense. But honestly, that’s hard to believe. What reason could there possibly be for this kind of suffering? What purpose does it serve to feel this empty, this lost, this hopeless?

And so I’m left with questions that haunt me every night. Will things ever get better? Am I destined to live like this forever? Will I ever find a job, a place where I belong, a reason to keep going? Or is this it—is this all there is for me? I don’t know how much longer I can keep waiting, hoping for a change that might never come.

Three years. Three years of struggle, three years of self-doubt, three years of feeling like I’m not good enough. And I can’t help but wonder—how many more years will it take before I finally find peace? How many more setbacks, rejections, and disappointments can I endure? It’s hard to keep going when you feel like you’ve already lost everything. But somehow, despite everything, I’m still here. I don’t know if that’s a sign of strength or desperation, but it’s all I have left.

Maybe one day, things will change. Maybe one day, I’ll find my place, my purpose, my worth. But until then, all I can do is hold on and hope that somehow, somewhere, there’s a reason for all this pain.