Help Andrew Rebuild His Life

I apologize ahead of time, this is long-winded, but I didn't want to spare any details as to why I am in the position I am. Thank you for your time here.

My name is Andrew Dehkhoda (Young). My life has had quite the chaotic downpour of unfortunate events, especially in the last two months. Yesterday (05/22/2025), my wallet was stolen, and I am removed from my Social Security and Birth Certificate by about 120 miles. This, along with a post-eviction homeless status, inability to work my full-time courier job, and pure desperation, have brought me before you today.

My story began last August, 2024. I had just recently achieved a landmark in my career as a Chef. Ten years in sushi, the most recent two being done at a company that was voted Best Sushi in Portland in 2022. Unfortunately, I was quietly struggling with methamphetamine addiction. Having reached a wall in being able to perform my job adequately, I intended to resign my position. I was instead terminated the day following discussing it with my FOH manager.

In pursuit of getting on the right track and clean, I attempted to collect the 60 hours of PTO I had accrued, as well as 40 hours of vacation time. These, as well as unemployment, were promptly denied. I had lost all stability. All foundation. I turned to DoorDash, which was a viable way to keep gas, some beer, and cigarettes. But something had to change. I set off to California, with the aid of my parents, who had agreed to house me until I was back on my feet once again.

On October 15th, I set off with a new resolve. I was clean for about two weeks at this point. I had work on my way down. I had a light at the end of the tunnel. I was ecstatic, with a sense of adventure and determination I had yet to bring forward into the world. A new me.

I traveled about 120 miles south, and weighing the likelihood of being able to make some easy money through Dashing, stopped in Eugene, OR. A college town which I was sure would be rife with young wallets not looking to leave their studies. Upon arrival, I made about 30 dollars, decided it was a good point to call it a night, and looked up the local bar scene. Thus began my Eugene experience.

I was celebrated by the locals, who upon hearing my story and the fact that I had never stopped in Eugene before, insisted I see it for at least a few days. This quickly turned into two weeks. I felt stuck but still had high spirits. I landed a very cool tile job, which paid mostly in tools from a local retired veteran. It was here I met the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I had no idea just quite yet, but I would ask her to marry me two weeks later, and she would say yes.

Our first date was November 1st. This was my last night in Eugene. I had stated as much. We went to Terwilliger Springs. We spent the entire night through the morning together. I told her I intended to come back in the following spring. I continued south, and three days later, I was driving 150 miles back to her. I was in love, and for the first time in years. She was the first woman who had shown not only compassion but genuine interest, and I was not going to pass that up.

I was engaged for the first time in my life. I was ecstatic. Her reunification program with her 5-year-old daughter was going swimmingly. We had hopes, dreams. A bond that felt stronger than anything the world could throw at us. We had a date set to leave her father's house. January 7th. Boy, could we not be more wrong. But for the moment I had it all. Americana. The dog. The doting fiancée. The child who had nothing but adoration in her eyes for me. It felt amazing. I was complete. Enter December...

About two weeks into December, we were called into an emergency hearing for the custody of her daughter. This was a complete blindsight. Her mother had been visiting from California, and their relationship was tentative at best. When told that grandma was going to pick her up from school, no one batted an eye. Until the hearing. I was disgusted with the pure fabrications, as well as the inability of her case to be defended. She had been appointed a new attorney after almost five years. This attorney would be a godsend. However, it held no bearing on the outcome. My fiancée was devastated. I was outraged. Her father was smug and hellbent on having us out of his house.

Two days after the hearing, I had her father arrested for criminal mischief in the second degree. He had tried to illegally evict us through lock changes and threats prior to the hearing. We had involved the local law enforcement. They knew our situation well. He was given a no-contact order following the arrest. Abandoned the lease on the house to us. Worked with the homeowner to purchase another house in the neighboring town of Springfield. Christmas came with devastation, but the promise of newfound freedom for the two of us. Being protected under the VAWA, we intended to take over the lease and make a new foundation. Or so we thought. Enter January.

We found out she was pregnant the second week of January. I was under the impression that I couldn't have children. I was almost 40 years old, and after a few multi-year, long-term relationships was sure my swimmers didn't quite swim. To say I was absolutely thrilled is an understatement. I catered, made waffles in bed for her quite religiously. Worked seven days a week more often than not. Planned for a family. My family. February came. We were served papers. A court hearing lined up with a new job opportunity for her. A salary job with three days of training in Vancouver, WA. I was reassured the Violence Against Women Act held a card in our court. Then came March.

With little time, I crammed as much tenant/landlord law as I could. I was successful in achieving a Stay of Execution the same day a Writ of Execution was passed. I took a deep breath, anticipating a few more weeks to figure out our next step. This was on Friday, March 14th. The following Monday, St. Patrick's Day, we were evicted. Seven sheriffs arrived at about 8 am, and me and my pregnant fiancée were on the streets. We camped in the backyard that first night of eviction. A blessing of pity from the property management team who listened to our story and wanted to work with, not against us. That would be the last night we spent together.

I was to blame. Had I not shown up, the reunification program would have been a success. Her father wouldn't have pushed for foster custody due to financial struggle. I was told that I stood in her way of talking to the advocates. She blamed me for the eviction. I had gone from hero to villain. In the matter of a weekend. I was devastated. She was over it. She ceased all communication with me. I haven't had more than a spiteful inference since two days after the 19th. She threatened abortion. I have no idea what is to come or has come of our daughter. We haven't had a meaningful conversation since that day. She has refused to communicate with anyone I know pertaining to me or our daughter, outside of some angsty YouTube exchanges.

I spent the next few weeks in Eugene trying to find some footing, some stability. I had spent little time networking. The only person that I had aimed thus far to get to know was my fiancée. I became a regular at some obscure parks. Trying to stay out of the public eye. Not staying anywhere too long in an effort to elude the inevitable "you don't have to go home but you can't stay here." Got to know some of the locals. Before long, an outstretched hand reached in the form of a friendship of nearly 20 years. Enter Gresham...

Gresham isn't a kind place. A lot of gang-affiliated crime. Shootings are pretty regular. Many consider it the "hood" of the Portland area, if you will. My friend has been renting out there for well over five years. I was offered a place to stay briefly, while I continued my courier gig work and grounded myself. This was to be very short-lived. Alcoholism, combined with a failing marriage, was to lead to almost the final nail in this coffin of circumstance. Stride and true, I upheld my end of the bargain. Helped with the kids. Kept the house clean. The tension became very palpable in a very short amount of time. More quickly than I would've anticipated. Then I became sick, and my U-joint failed. I couldn't work. Was completely miserable. This was only day six of returning to the Portland Metro Area.

I awoke for the second time that morning to my few belongings that I had brought with me being discarded onto the front porch. Trying to recover from a late night, I resided in my truck in an attempt to sleep off that damn cold and feel well. I was told that I had overstayed my welcome. Met with, as a good friend likes to put it, "not even passive-aggressive, just aggressive" behavior. With a twenty-year friendship destroyed, and my courier gig work in the area being limited at best, I headed slightly south to Tigard after help from another close friend who aided me in getting off the property after two days of torture. Joined a gym, mostly to have availability to shower, as well as something to do with my limited downtime. Intent on returning to Eugene where I make a pretty standard 30-50 an hour.

I overcame a torn EHL over the next couple of weeks. Too much skating on top of pushing myself at said gym. Got in touch with a few past friends/acquaintances. Not trying to overstay my welcome anywhere, I stayed on the go. With my pay not reflecting what it typically was 100 miles south, I prepared for another week or so in the area. And here we are, finally arriving at my first skate in two weeks, and the loss of my wallet.

It's gone. I've contacted every business within that small strip mall over the last two days. Believing I left it on a TriMet bus stop bench where I enjoyed a cigar and morning cup of coffee, I filed a lost and found report. I spent that morning scouring the area. To no avail. And now here I am. Stuck in Portland. I've glossed over a lot of details. Like my almost father-in-law's rapidly developing Alzheimer's and abusive relationship with my fiancée. My relapse and second introduction into recovery. I've been clean for about two months now, since the eviction. But I am very stuck. Very much in need of help. I have the last six months of my life documented on camera. Something that started in pursuit of protecting my fiancée, and ended up being done to protect me since March.

So there you have it. Feel free to ask any questions. Any help is greatly appreciated. Thank you for your time, and keep your chin up. Drink one for me.