***As of 08/07/2015, we are officially being evicted. Or rather, landlord is refusing to continue the lease. We have until 10/15/2025 to vacate the premises. He is demanding $2850 to remain until October 15th. We are, for all intents and purposes, homeless.***

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It is time to ask for help. Real help, big help. Until now, they have asked for it in bits and pieces, trying to remain small and unoffensive and unintrusive. Trying not to keep asking too much of a community that has been so good to them. That has been a family to them, a source of love, support, and overwhelming generosity. Jen acknowledges their extreme generosity. "They have been the only family we know anymore. The only safe space, the only reason, literally, that I am still alive. They have been so good to us. But we are still drowning. Losing, failing."

More, in Jen's words:

You are likely familiar with our story by now. I have been a single mom to five kids -four of them at home- for almost all my kids' lives. I had a good, long-standing career as a CPS Investigator. We were reasonably secure, and my kids never wanted for anything.

Then in 2022, things started to fall apart. I developed serious heart conditions that by 2024 had resulted in five heart surgeries, several other procedures, and multiple lengthy hospitalizations. I missed a lot of work. Excused, of course, but gone is gone and they could only give me so much time off. In late 2023, I was let go from my 17 year career at CPS. Then things really started to spiral out of control.

In 2024, while attempting to acquire disability benefits, I was diagnosed with endometrial cancer. Between that and the heart problems, I'd become very ill, and was in and out of the hospital constantly. As I grew more and more sick, it became clear that there was more "wrong" than my medical team originally recognized. I eventually was diagnosed with a specific immunodeficiency that destroyed my ability to fight off illnesses, particularly those of the lung and mucous membranes. I was loosely described as having COPD, as I lived with a virtually chronic form of aspiration pneumonia and febrile and blood illnesses that began to take what was left of my health. I was in the hospital as often as I was out, during which times my teens were left to fend for themselves at home, with help from friends who have done their best to stay present for us. I do not have any family resources or support to draw on anymore, for reasons beyond my understanding. It has been just us... And my beautiful community of friends.

My kids, meanwhile, fought battles of their own. Through a number of vicious, divisive court proceedings, I extricated my youngest four kids from enforced visitation with their violent, dangerous father who has an established history of severely injuring our children. My youngest struggles still with severe PTSD from that situation. In addition to that, my 16 year old was diagnosed in 2024 with a form of dysautonomia, a progressive illness that attacks the body's ability to manage automatic functions. Frequent illnesses and mystery pain punctuates their daily existence. Between my illness and theirs, my kids fight every day for some degree of normalcy and safety. They all attend school (home and public), the oldest three work almost full time, and they do their level best to "act normal," but we all know that there is only so much longer that this can continue on.

I am the sole caregiver and main breadwinner for our household. As I fought to acquire disability and Medicaid services -a process I would not wish on anyone, much less the dying or chronically ill- we lived on my formerly extensive savings. I also picked up a part time remote position doing Sec 8 contracts for a local shelter. But as time went on, those resources dwindled. Soon my savings balance was below zero. I was nowhere near well enough to return to work, and would find myself at pains to pay rent and utilities every month. I discovered during this time that, despite our large household size and well-below-poverty level income, I do not qualify for food stamps... Because I own a car that is less than 10 years old. That my car is so far upside down and my payments so far behind that I risk daily repossession is neither here nor there. The state of Texas thinks I should sell our only form of transportation, then maybe I will qualify for funds to feed my large family. It is one of many ridiculous impediments I have encountered.

Every month, things that need doing around the house pile up, because I cannot afford the repairs or upkeep. Every month, rent is more and more late, but my landlord continues to increase our rent in an attempt to price me out. We cannot afford the rent here anymore: In five years, it has gone from $1900/mo to $2750/month. Disability barely covers that amount. Everything else -utilities, food, necessities-, I must find the funds for, between my penny ante job and help from friends. We need to move, but cannot afford it; moving such a large household would cost thousands of dollars. Moreover, my primary income is disability. I will not qualify for leases on more affordable homes. We are stuck. Things continue to spiral. Our washer and dryer and most appliances require repairs that are my responsibility to cover, according to the landlord. A massive leak between two bathrooms has led to black mold in the ceiling. A large hole in the living room has not been fixed, allowing hot summer air in and killing our comfort level and our electric bill. Everyone works, goes to school, and fights tooth and nail for their health and life. We have drawn on all our resources to depletion. I am tired, and every single day, I struggle not to give up. And believe me, friends... It is a struggle. How easy just to stop? To stop undergoing chemo and immunotherapy, to stop going to MDA for treatment, to stop fighting the hair loss and the bruises and the constant nausea and the fear of impending surgery that at least one doctor refers to as "dicey" because of my frail health. To stop staying awake all night every night, worrying about food and 11th hour utility payments and which food bank will be open tomorrow.

My only resource this whole time -apart from disability, (which recently paused entirely for three whole months, leading to my landlord's current threat of eviction, yet again), and a variety of food banks- has been you, my friends. I have asked time and again for just this little bit here and there to see us through. But that hasn't helped us overall. It takes too much from you and does nothing for our end result. We need to stop slipping and sliding all over precarious, shifting ground, ground that is sliding toward a massive drop-off. We need a firm foundation, a safe place from which to take off, once and for all. It will be a long time before I am well enough to return to work full time. Until then, we need to stop facing monthly eviction and starvation. We need to move into a smaller (albeit more crowded) home, and we need a nest egg to draw on for emergencies, so I can focus my strength on getting well. It sounds like a dream, and may well be... But on the flip side of that dream, my kids and I will be living in a shelter by Halloween, and I will have lost all strength to keep fighting. I have to try hard not to find peace in that possibility. Giving up is not an option, but it sure sounds relaxing sometimes."

So for one last, big push, one more life-altering time, one hopeful look at maybe one day getting this family out of this dark place, rising above and moving beyond it, I am asking for your support in helping to get their heads back above water. Jen is tired and running almost entirely out of steam. She and her kids need a safe place to settle quietly and keep facing this storm, without having to spend every minute out in it, praying to make it another day. Please help by donating, sharing, and getting their story out there. Jen wants nothing more than to stand on her own two feet again, but at this rate that is an ambition far beyond her reach. Please help me help her and her kids, as she settles into the next chapter of treatments and surgeries, let her relax, knowing that all she holds dear will still be there the next time she comes home from the hospital. And again, please share!

Regards,

Tonya.