Grieving Family on the Brink — Help a Widowed, Disabled Mom

Hi, I’m Mandie—a disabled, widowed mother of two, still fighting to rebuild our lives after unimaginable loss, betrayal, and trauma.

My husband died by suicide in late 2019. Just months later, my children and I were forced into homelessness during the height of the pandemic.

Not long after his death, I discovered that my children were being harmed by someone I trusted completely—my best friend and stepbrother. He used me to gain access to my kids and violated them in unspeakable ways. He’s now in federal prison, but the betrayal didn’t stop there—my own father chose to support him instead of us. I still can’t understand it.

We were left with nothing. No home. No safety net. No family.

For two years, we couch-surfed, stayed in shelters, and survived however we could. That same summer, we lost our two elderly therapy dogs—15 and 16 years old—during the COVID shutdowns. One of them died in our arms. They had been with us since before my children were born, and their loss shattered us.

Eventually, I secured stable housing in a small two-bedroom duplex. My children have bedrooms. I sleep on the couch in the living room. I haven’t had a bedroom of my own in over six years.

Even now, we’re not allowed to have therapy animals in this rental. We live with PTSD, and the absence of that support has been devastating. We desperately need a new home where our mental health needs are respected and accommodated.

---

Our Current Situation

My son recently graduated on time—despite five psychiatric hospitalizations. He’s currently in an intensive outpatient mental health program and not able to work.

My daughter is homeschooling due to relentless bullying in our small town—mostly because I can only afford thrift store clothes, and she’s been judged and teased beyond what any child should endure.

I am disabled and do not work. I manage our household, care for my children, and fight every day to keep us going emotionally, physically, and financially—with very limited resources.

We live on the bare minimum, without a safety net, and every bill feels like a cliff.

---

Why I’m Asking for Help

I’m so sorry and embarrassed to even ask. I wish I didn’t have to.

But I’m disabled. I have no family support. Everything I once relied on was lost—to death, betrayal, and silence. I’m doing everything I can, but it’s not enough.

I’m asking for help to cover:

Rent & utilities

Therapy & trauma care

Groceries & transportation

Clothing & school supplies

A new home that allows our therapy animals

Anything that can keep us afloat while we continue healing

---

From the Bottom of My Heart

To those who’ve already donated:

You helped put food in our bellies.

You kept the lights on.

You paid the garbage bill.

You gave us breathing room.

I am overwhelmed with gratitude. Your kindness means survival.

---

How You Can Help

If you’d like to help, here are a few ways that truly make a difference:

Donate if you’re able. Every dollar helps cover rent, therapy, and essentials.

Share our story. You might be one post away from reaching someone who can help in a big way.

Prefer to donate directly? You can send support via:

PayPal: @DeMANDIEng

Venmo: @DeMANDIEng

CashApp: $DeMANDIEng

(Same handle on all platforms!)

Consider monthly support. Even $10/month could mean gas in the car or food on the table.

Know of resources or leads? If you know about affordable housing that allows therapy animals, flexible work, or trauma support—we’d be so grateful to hear from you.

Thank you for seeing us.

Thank you for believing survivors.

Thank you for helping a mother still standing in the aftermath.

—Mandie