Hi, I’m Jessie.

My story isn’t pretty or polished. It’s heavy, complicated, and full of chapters I never thought I’d survive — but I did. And now I’m trying to give myself the ending I’ve fought so hard for.

I spent most of my life in a body that felt like a cage.

At 403 pounds, I couldn’t walk a grocery store without feeling like I’d pass out. I hid behind horrible body jokes, baggy clothes, and being the “strong one” because it was easier than admitting how much pain I was in — physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Losing the weight wasn’t magical or glamorous. It was messy. It was lonely. It was trauma, heartbreak, grit, discipline, and starting over again and again when life kept knocking me flat.

But I did it.

I’m 200 lbs now. I have muscles I didn’t know existed. I can breathe again. I can move in ways I have never been able to. I can look in the mirror and see someone who fought like hell to stay alive.

But with that comes the part nobody prepares you for:

the skin that’s left behind.

The rashes. The tearing. The infections. The pain. The constant reminders of the girl I used to be — the one who was surviving instead of living.

On December 12th, I’m having a major reconstructive abdominal surgery. Insurance is covering the medically “necessary” part, but not all the costs. And they won’t touch the arm surgery I desperately need next, even though the skin hangs, pulls, and affects my daily life in ways most people will never see.

Right now, I’m on leave from work, in school full time, trying to show up for my mental health, staying nicotine-free, and going to appointment after appointment — while falling behind on bills, gas, medical supplies, and even basic things like food and winter clothes. I’m stretched to my limit. And I’m scared.

I’ve always been the girl who figures it out on her own.

The girl who keeps going anyway.

The girl who survives things people don’t come back from.

But for the first time, I’m asking for help — not because I’m weak, but because I want to finally heal instead of just endure.

What your support helps with:

• Keeping my bills and basic needs covered during recovery

• Gas and transportation to multiple appointments

• Medical supplies I didn’t expect but absolutely have to have

• Groceries and essentials

• Winter clothes for a body that’s changed faster than my bank account

• The uncovered portion of this surgery

• And eventually… the arm reconstruction that I genuinely need but insurance refuses to help with

Why I’m asking

Because I’ve survived:

• abuse

• heartbreak

• mental health spirals

• financial instability

• working myself into burnout

• losing myself

• rebuilding myself

• losing myself again

• and somehow still finding the energy to try one more time

And I’m so proud of that girl.

But I don’t want to live my whole life fighting.

I want peace. I want stability. I want a life where healing doesn’t feel like a luxury. I want to show up to school, to work, to my relationships, to myself — not half-empty, but whole.

I want to be the woman people say they can see in me.

I want to finally feel like I deserve the life I’ve built.

This surgery is the last step to freeing myself from the body that held all my pain.

But I can’t do this alone. Not this time.

If you can help — even a few dollars, a share, a donation of winter clothes — it would mean more than you know. Your support lets me heal safely, breathe again, and finally step into the life I’ve fought for since the moment I decided I wasn’t going to die the girl I used to be.

Thank you for reading my story.

Thank you for believing in me.

Thank you for helping me take this next step.

— Jessie