My name is Jaz*, and my family is just two weeks away from losing our home.

I have three beautiful children and a husband, Aman*, who has been fighting to survive the darkest mental health battle of his life for the past three years - a battle triggered by severe racism he experienced at work. That trauma ripped open wounds from his childhood that he had buried for decades, and since then, his mental health has spiralled.

Aman has always been a hard worker - long hours, never complaining, always present as a loving husband and father. I’ve worked since I was 15, he since 14. We’ve always paid our bills, our taxes, and provided a good life for our kids. Now, through no fault of our own, that life is slipping away.

These years have broken us in more ways than I can explain. During this time, I gave birth to our youngest child and with that came my own battle with postpartum depression. On top of caring for Aman and our children, my own past trauma, memories I had completely buried, came flooding back. Memories of childhood sexual abuse I never thought I would have to relive. It has been an emotional, mental, physical, and financial storm that we cannot weather alone.

We have sold everything we possibly can. I’ve taken on every bit of work available to me. We’ve fought with everything we have but it’s not enough. The debts from years in survival mode are crushing us. I’m exhausted, juggling caring for Aman, keeping the children’s lives stable, paying bills, and trying to put food on the table with the little we have left.

We have no family to turn to. I have walked in on moments where I was minutes away from losing my husband forever. Those moments never leave you. I know that without urgent help, I could lose him and we could lose our home.

We desperately need help to cover our rent, essential bills, and to get Aman the culturally-sensitive therapy he needs to heal therapy that could save his life. Mental health is not a joke. It destroys lives. Too many suffer in silence until it’s too late.

If you can spare even £1, it could be the difference between our children keeping a roof over their heads or facing homelessness. If you can’t donate, please share our story so it can reach someone who can help.

The next seven days are critical. Please, from one human to another — help us.

Our names have been changed to protect our privacy in the community. Asking for help like this is breaking our hearts. But right now, our pride has to come second to our children’s safety and our family’s survival. This is real. This is our life. And without help, we won’t make it.

**Our names have been changed to protect our privacy in the community due to shame. It breaks our hearts to have to do this - we would never normally ask. It’s hard enough worrying about “what if”, but we want you to know: our story is true.