I want something for my children that probably sounds pretty ordinary: I want us to have a home.

Not a perfect home. Not some big, beautiful house where suddenly nothing ever goes wrong. I just want a place that is ours. A place where my kids know where they are sleeping at night and where their things belong. I want to make dinner in our own kitchen. I want bedrooms that become theirs. I want to walk through our front door at the end of the day and know we are home.

That probably sounds like such a simple thing.

For my family, it isn't.

We have experienced loss in more ways than I ever thought one family could. Death. Addiction. Incarceration. Separation. We have lost our home, our car, financial stability, people we love, and time together that we can never get back. There have been times when it felt like our whole life was being taken apart piece by piece.

But I don't want our story to be about everything we've lost anymore.

I want it to be about what we're rebuilding.

This past year has been different. I have been rebuilding. I have been in recovery for a year. I went to college and have earned 40 college credits with straight A's. I work part-time at a coffee shop while going to school and raising my children. I recently had my record expunged.

None of that happened overnight, and none of it came easily. But little by little, my life is starting to look different. For the first time in a long time, I am not watching everything fall apart. I am watching things come together.

And the biggest piece we are still missing is a home.

I work. I go to school. I take care of my kids. I keep doing everything I can to move us forward. But the reality is that on my income, I don't have enough to cover a security deposit, first month's rent, moving expenses, basic household necessities, and everything it takes to get a family into a home while still paying for everyday life.

That's why I'm asking for help.

The money raised will go toward the security deposit, first month's rent, moving costs, and the basic things my children and I need to start our home.

I'm not asking somebody to come fix my life for me.

I am already doing the work, and I'm going to keep doing it.

I'm going to keep working. I'm going to keep going to school. I'm going to protect the recovery I fought for. I'm going to keep showing up for my children and keep building the future I know we can have.

But one of the things I've had to learn is that doing the work doesn't mean you have to do every single part of it alone.

And right now, I need help.

For us, a home isn't just an apartment.

It's knowing where we belong. It's my kids having their things in their own rooms. It's dinner, homework, bedtime, birthdays, messes, laughter, and all the regular little things that make up a family life.

After everything we've lost, home means having my children together and safe.

That's what I'm fighting for.

If you can donate and help us get there, I don't know if I can fully explain what that would mean to me. And if you can't donate but can share our story, that matters too.

My children have already learned more about loss and starting over than I ever wanted them to know.

Now I want them to learn what it feels like to build something together. To belong somewhere. To finally be home.