I’ve had depression for a good amount of my life, and I have had suicidal thoughts and urges, but never to the point I do now. I live with my ex and her family. We are past the point of trying to work things about but are still friends and act like we are together while actively talking to others. That’s not terrible, but it isn’t great. But the house we live in is awful, chihuahuas and cats have taken it over. The kitchen is unusable, it’s barely possible to navigate through it without dog shit sticking to your feet. The bathroom flooded a few days ago and soaked our entire floor and all the clothes stacked up in it, and it smells awful. I’ve cleaned a thousand times but I’m the only one who cares to do so and I’ve just about given up. I spend every second that I’m awake on my back porch, that’s my little kingdom. I keep it cleanish and comfortable and totally unlike the inside. I even keep my PlayStation and TV set up back here. It’s where I’m at right now. I have so much more on my mind, but this is the one thing I don’t get to tell anyone around me because it’s too embarrassing. I don’t know what to expect from this post, I just wanted to finally complain about the one thing keeping me in this constant state. Thank you to whoever read this. I hope I don’t just sound whiney and that I followed the guidelines of this sub. I’m just trying something