❤️ Summary: I really didn’t want it to come to this. I’ve been dealing with abuse and health problems for years, and now I’ve been told I have until August to get out. I’ve tried so hard to push through, but I can’t keep doing this alone.

I have POTS, and stress makes my symptoms worse, lately I can barely walk across the room. I’m applying for disability, but that takes months, and right now I have nothing. I just need enough to get somewhere safe and stay afloat until things stabilize.

If you can help at all — whether it’s donating or sharing — thank you. Truly. I don’t take this lightly. I’ve spent so long feeling like asking for help was wrong. But I’m trying to survive. That’s all this is.

Hello, to start off I need to stay as anonymous as possible for safety reasons and I would not be doing this if there was another way. I’m a young man living with a chronic illness called Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS) — a condition that affects my autonomic nervous system and makes everyday life a physical and emotional fight for survival.

When I try to stand or even sit upright, my heart rate surges, my blood pressure and heart rate spikes, and blood pools in the lower half of my body, leaving my brain starved of oxygen. I get dizzy, disoriented, nauseous, and sometimes collapse. It’s like gravity is trying to tear me down from the inside. My hands shake constantly. I lose feeling in my limbs. Even walking to the bathroom can feel like scaling a mountain.

My symptoms started about three years ago, and for a long time I didn’t know what was happening to me. I pushed through collapsing, dizziness, and exhaustion because I was told over and over that I was lazy or dramatic. That message came from someone I thought loved me: my mother. Eventually, I started believing it. I convinced myself that if I just tried harder, complained less, and kept quiet, things would get better. I ignored my body even while it was screaming for help for years just to please her.

It wasn’t until recently that I finally forced myself to see a doctor. After years of confusion and guilt, I was diagnosed with POTS. That moment changed everything. I finally had proof that I wasn’t weak, I wasn’t imagining it, and I wasn’t making excuses. I was sick. I’d been sick for years.

But instead of things getting better, everything around me got worse.

My mother didn’t respond with concern— she responded with control and cruelty. She had always used manipulation, gaslighting, and emotional abuse to keep me quiet. But once I started advocating for myself and recognizing what was happening, she spiraled. She became more aggressive, more threatening, and more determined to break me down.

I had to quit my job because of constantly ignoring my health, which was a really hard thing to do but I couldn’t just pretend and put myself through hell for her sake anymore. I’ve been trying to manage my condition while navigating a home that feels more like a battlefield. For the past several days, I had been staying with my dad just to escape the constant tension. But the other night, I came home for one reason: my cat. She’s been with me for 14 years. since I was a child— and she’s the only source of warmth and comfort I have left in that house. I just wanted to see her.

As we got close to the house, I called my mom to let her know I was almost there— and she immediately started screaming at me over the phone, telling me she wasn’t opening the door. I hadn’t even arrived yet, and she was already full of rage. My stomach dropped. But I needed to see my cat, so I asked my dad to drop me off anyway. He stayed parked outside as I went up and knocked on the window.

The moment she opened the door, she exploded. She screamed that I was the worst person she’s ever met. She said how badly she wanted to “wrap her hands around my neck and squeeze as hard as she could.” I didn’t say a warned to her, I just walked up the stairs to my room, shut the door, and collapsed into a panic attack— shaking, barely able to breathe. Almost immediately, my dad called me. He had heard everything from the car. He asked if I wanted to come back with him, told me she should never be speaking to me like that, and to call him if I needed to get away again. Just hearing him say that gave me a second of clarity— but the truth was, I was already stuck back in a place that’s been quietly destroying me for years.

And this isn’t new. Every morning, she barges into my room and berates me. She reminds me constantly that it’s her house, as if that gives her permission to torment me. She thrives on control, and now that I’m not letting her manipulate me anymore, she’s doing everything she can to regain that power no matter how much it hurts me.

And it is hurting me. Deeply. Emotional stress makes my illness drastically worse. That’s not a figure of speech, it’s a medical fact. My nervous system is already overactive from this condition, and being in a constant state of fear and stress sends it into a full collapse. For the past week, I’ve barely been able to walk. My vision blacks out when I stand. My limbs go numb. I feel like my body is giving up under the weight of all this. I’m not safe here — physically, mentally, or emotionally.

I’m terrified she’ll find this fundraiser. I honestly don’t know what she’ll do if she does. But I also know that if I don’t do something now, I won’t survive this. I’ve been quiet for so long. I’ve tried to make it work. I’ve blamed myself. I’ve bent until I’ve nearly broken. And now I need to leave.

Because of my illness, I have no job and no source of income. I’m in the process of applying for disability, but that can take many months and the process is often long and difficult with no guarantee of approval. Right now, I need urgent help to cover rent, basic living needs, transportation, and anything that can help me relocate safely and stabilize my life while I fight for my health and independence. If you know any places that can help with finding me housing that’d also be immensely appreciated. This is all very new to me and I feel lost.

I feel ashamed for asking. I was conditioned by her to believe that needing help made me weak. But sadly asking for help is sometimes the only way forward. I can’t keep living in survival mode. I need a chance to actually live.

If you can donate, even just a small amount it would mean more than the world to me. If you can’t donate, please share this with others. Please always remember to put your safety and well being first especially with the current state our world <3.

Every little bit brings me closer to safety and gives me a chance to rebuild a life. Allows me to finally just breathe in a safe space, just me and my cat that means more to me than I could ever express in words. If you’re a long term pet owner i’m sure you know what I mean, what it means to find a companion that truly loves you. That is Snowflake for me and that is why she is on the cover photo.

Thank you for reading this. Thank you for seeing me. And thank you for giving me hope when I’ve been running low on it for a long time.

— A young man trying to survive and heal