On June 11, 2021, while I was pregnant with my twin sons, my mom, dad, and little brother Ethan all died from fentanyl poisoning. I have been sober for nearly 14 years, but that loss changed everything. I had my sons in July 2021, and with no coparent support—my kids’ dad was actively using fentanyl—we ended up homeless, couch surfing for months. I moved us to Florida so my aunts could help, then drove my car across the country by myself. In August 2023, my best friend also died from fentanyl poisoning. Despite everything, I saved enough to move us back home to Oceanside, California in February 2024. Last year, I was diagnosed with Hashimoto’s, hypothyroidism, prediabetes, and menopause, on top of ADHD, depression, anxiety, insomnia, and PTSD. In May 2026, my son Jameson was diagnosed with ODD and ADHD after being kicked out of TK for aggressive behavior. I had him in therapy and psychiatry, while managing my own mental health. I work full time remotely as an admissions coordinator for an IOP/PHP program and graduated college in spring 2024 with my AA in psychology. I paid off my car, but in June 2026, my aunt offered to take the twins to Florida for a month to give me a mental health break. When I went to pick them up, we got stuck in Florida for four extra days due to travel issues. When we finally got home, I learned my car had been impounded because it wasn’t registered or insured. Now, I have -$38 in my account, haven’t paid rent, and barely have groceries. Childcare is uncertain, and my twins start kindergarten soon—they need immunizations before then. Getting my car back is urgent because fees increase daily. Rent is essential, and groceries are for my children’s survival. Childcare is critical so I can keep my job, and my phone is necessary for everything. I am extremely committed to my recovery, but I rarely have time to participate because I’m always working or searching for childcare. On rare occasions I have a sitter, I just want to sleep or clean. I haven’t had time to grieve, and I miss my mom so much it physically hurts. I love my job and helping people, but no employer can tolerate continuous disruptions. I want my twins to grow up feeling fiercely loved and protected, never knowing the pain I endured. I want them to be compassionate, grateful, and have opportunities I never had. I want them to trust themselves and God’s plans, to be kind, resilient, loving, and independent. Any support will help us get through this difficult time and give my boys the life they deserve. I am embarrassed to ask for help, and I never want to sound ungrateful or entitled. If I still had family like I used to, this wouldn’t be an issue, or at least I’d feel safe. But nowadays, I am the only fallback, and I am doing my best to keep us safe and thriving to continue breaking generational curses.