I never imagined I would be in this position—desperate, out of options, and pleading for help. But here I am, with nowhere else to turn.

On July 17, 2024, my life took an unexpected and devastating turn. I contracted chickenpox from someone at my job. I followed all the rules, took two weeks off to recover, and kept my employer updated. But when I was finally cleared to return, I was fired. Just like that. Since then, I have been searching relentlessly for work, but nothing has come through.

I live in a basement—if you can even call it that. It has no heat. The walls are crumbling. Concrete is falling apart. Now, on top of everything, I am facing eviction. I haven’t been able to pay rent since August, and time has run out. My landlord, whom I’ve rented from for over eight years, is forcing me out. I have no lease, no protection, and soon, no home.

I am 56 years old. Finding work at my age is already an uphill battle. But without a car, the jobs I am offered are impossible to get to. I have applied for countless remote positions, yet nothing has worked out. I am trying. I truly am. But every door keeps slamming in my face.

I live with chronic pain. Two bulging discs in my back and 2 in my neck. Osteoarthritis. Scoliosis. A torn meniscus in my knee that never properly healed. Some days, the pain is unbearable. I applied for disability, but they told me I wasn’t “disabled enough.” I am appealing, but that takes time—time I no longer have.

Last week, things got even worse. I stepped out for five minutes to buy food, and when I returned, I was locked out of my home. My landlord refused to let me in. I had to call the police and wait for over an hour in the cold. The officers told her she couldn’t evict me like this, but she didn’t care. Days later, I was handed court papers—an official eviction notice. I now have 20 days to find a lawyer and fight, but I have no money, no support, and no fight left in me.

I don’t know what to do. I have nowhere to go. No savings. No family who can take me in. I have been holding on by a thread, relying on a friend to help me pay my phone and internet bills. Without them, I can’t even search for jobs. That last bit of help is about to run out. Then, I will have nothing.

I am asking—begging—anyone with a kind heart to help me through this. Even the smallest donation could mean the difference between survival and being out on the street. If I can just get a room, a safe place to stay, I can keep applying for jobs, keep pushing forward, and rebuild my life.

Please, if you can, help me escape this nightmare. If you can’t donate, please share my story with others who might be able to. I am holding onto hope, but I can’t do this alone.

Thank you for reading, for caring, and for any support you can give. God bless you.

Sincerely,

Chris C