For almost my entire life, the Coachella Valley Unified School District has been my world. I was raised in CVUSD schools from Head Start through 12th grade, and for the past 19 years, I’ve dedicated myself to serving the district that shaped me. I worked my way up from volunteer to substitute, paraeducator, Instructional Media Assistant (IMA), and finally the district’s Curriculum Resource Technician, a role that supported every school in the district through curriculum, library services, and providing guidance and training to the 23 IMAs throughout the district.

My dream of working in school technology began in 2nd grade, watching a computer lab aide fix problems no one else could. That moment lit a spark that guided my entire life. I spent years studying, training, and giving everything I had to become that same steady, dependable person for others.

I also devoted myself to union leadership, standing up for classified employees who often felt invisible or unheard. I fought to protect jobs, protect services, and protect people. I never backed down from doing what was right, even when it made things harder for me.

But in 2025, my world unraveled.

District-wide cuts displaced hundreds of classified employees. I fought for everyone I represented, but in the end, I was bumped from my position and pushed back into a paraeducator role with a 60% pay cut, which caused me to have a month and a half of not receiving a paycheck. It felt like the career I built over nearly two decades was taken away overnight.

Then I got hurt. Since the IMAs, who used to handle textbook inventory, had been laid off a month earlier, I was left to do the heavy work alone. Lifting, sorting, counting hundreds of heavy boxes destroyed my hands. I lost grip strength and mobility in both hands, and now I’m presenting numbness in my dominant hand. Physical therapy couldn’t continue without neurological testing, and there are no neurologists within 75 miles who accept workers’ comp insurance, leaving me stuck in pain with nowhere to turn and not able to do most types of work to allow me to make supplemental income.

Then came the most devastating blow. My mother suffered a severe ischemic stroke. One phone call changed everything. I became her full-time caregiver. I was taking her to doctor appointments, rehab centers, dealing with medications, long nights, fear, exhaustion, and heartbreak. I cared for her for a little over two months, every day, every hour, mostly with no help or support from family, and during that entire time I received no pay. No income. No savings left. Just responsibility and love holding me together. Thankfully, my mom has now progressed to the point of her showing no signs of having a stroke due to the sacrifices and being diligent with the doctor’s orders.

Those unpaid months destroyed me financially. With my income slashed, my medical care stalled, and my savings gone, I am now facing the terrifying possibility of becoming homeless. Every bill feels impossible. Every paycheck I have been receiving has been trying to pay past due bills with plenty of late fees attached. Every month, I wonder how I will keep a roof over my head.

Emotionally, the weight of all this has taken a massive toll.

The anxiety and depression I’ve been fighting through have become overwhelming. The constant fear of losing my home, the grief of watching my mother suffer, the pain in my hands, the loss of my career, the endless battles with workers’ comp, it all feels like too much.

Some days, even getting out of bed feels like a mountain. I’m trying my best, but I am exhausted in every possible way: physically, financially, and emotionally.

I’ve spent my entire life showing up for my district, my coworkers, my students, and my family.

Now, for the first time, I need help to simply survive.

Your support will help me avoid homelessness and keep a roof over my head, cover rent and basic living expenses, travel to out-of-area specialists, recover after two unpaid months caring for my mother, and stabilize my mental health during the most difficult period of my life.

If you can support me, your help means more than you will ever know. You might very literally be giving me the chance to survive, heal, and rebuild.