I am 53 years old, fighting with every breath to survive a lifetime of unimaginable trauma. When I was just four years old, my innocence was shattered by grown adults who subjected me to severe physical abuse and molestation. That cruelty inflicted profound, lifelong damage—haunting scars I was forced to carry alone for decades. Yet, against all odds, I survived. For the first time in my life, I found someone who stood by my side, refusing to let me face my demons alone and teaching me that I have worth, that I am beautiful, and that I never deserved the guilt forced upon me.
Just as my heart finally learned peace, my body began giving up. The physical devastation has caught up to me: I have been diagnosed with severe malnutrition, stage 3 chronic kidney disease, congestive heart failure, hematemesis, cachexia, and a debilitating anxiety disorder that triggers blackouts, fainting, and severe shaking. Because I require full-time care around the clock, my partner cannot leave my side, leaving neither of us able to work. We have reached out for general assistance and disability through ISD, but the process takes anywhere from three months to a year.
Right now, we are out of time. We are facing immediate homelessness. Our rent is past due, our electricity is facing shutoff, our propane is completely gone, and the sheer terror of this crisis has brought on small heart attacks and type 2 heart failures. We have not given up hope—we have enrolled in online classes for medical billing, coding, and data analytics to build a future, but our only laptop has broken.
The raw truth is this: if we are cast out onto the streets of Truth or Consequences, I will die out here. In my fragile physical state, homelessness is a death sentence. There are no ifs, ands, or buts—I cannot survive the streets. I am begging from the bottom of my heart for any help to keep a roof over our heads and keep our power on. Please help save my life. Any kindness you can extend will mean more than words could ever convey
