My name is Kristy Miller, and my life changed forever the day my son passed away.

In February 2023, I almost lost my own life, too. What followed was not one single crisis, but a chain of trauma, grief, medical complications, and survival that I have been trying to crawl through while still being a mother to my three children.

Since then, I have been trying to rebuild from the kind of pain that changes your body, your mind, your family, and your entire sense of safety.

It was going well, healing with my kids as my abuser began to pull away.

He suffered a mental health in September 2024. He changed after that.

And then I got hurt.

In November 2024, things became even more serious when I was hospitalized at Riverside in the stroke unit from November 9–13, 2024 after experiencing neurological and autonomic dysfunction following a brain/spine injury, including left-sided weakness, vestibular damage, confusion, short-term memory loss, and difficulty functioning safely.

At discharge, my boyfriend of six years was named as my medical caretaker, meaning he misrepresented himself as my husband while I was unable to fully advocate for myself. I was released to his car. He was given instructions and referrals for in-home physical therapy, occupational therapy, speech therapy, neurology, and neurosurgery. I was classified as a fall risk and was expected to receive 3 day a week PT/OT at home.

Those appointments were not scheduled.

The person named as my medical caretaker was also my fiancé — or, if we are getting technical, my boyfriend, because I am still legally married, just not to him. He likes to shame me for that part.

My boyfriend, my new caretaker, was the man I lost a child with and the person I truly believed had saved my life. That is a trauma bond I cannot describe.

But while I was grieving, injured, and medically vulnerable, he was building resentment and blame. In his own words, he told me: “All I see when I look at you is my dead son.”

I believe he felt rage, and I became his target because I was vulnerable. He knew it never would have happened otherwise. I did not forget how to be a mother. I did not forget how to protect my children or myself. I lost a son, almost lost my life, and knew something was wrong, so I began documenting on an app meant to help me communicate through text/email, remember things, and get out of isolation.

From November 12, 2024 through March 13, 2025, I was not properly supported in accessing the medical care I was referred for. An emergency referral for neurology and neurosurgery was not acted on. I was struggling with short-term memory loss, confusion, weakness, neurological symptoms, autonomic dysfunction, and difficulty using devices, which made it incredibly hard to advocate for myself.

For approximately four and a half months, food, medical care, and basic empathy were withheld from me while I was declining. I had five serious shingles outbreaks that damaged my cranial nerve and left my face weak on the left side. I was unable to wash my hair. We had a glass shower door, and I was a fall risk. I could not close my eyes without falling over. I became night-blind.

Lights and sounds became difficult for me. If they were too intense, they could trigger confusion and make it even harder for me to function safely.

I lost fine motor skills and strength in my arms and hands. With an already unstable left leg. I could only use devices sporadically. People do not always think about how many steps go into something as simple as using a phone: opening it, remembering why you opened it, finding the right app, remembering what you needed, typing the message, forgetting the message, phone locks as you try to remember, you unlock it, and the cycle repeats. While lights hurt.

With short-term memory loss, neurological dysfunction, weakness in my hands, and sensory overload, even basic communication became exhausting and unreliable. And people stopped checking because I couldn't communicate why I couldn't communicate.

I was trembling, weak, and completely afraid.

And trying to find age appropriate ways, again, to explaining scary experiences to my children.

Being a Mother is a routine by brain never faulted on.

He would place obstacles around me while I was already a fall risk. He withheld conversation, eye contact, and basic reassurance. He withheld healthcare. Even lying to any support system I had outside the home.

When I asked for food I could safely eat, especially as I was having trouble swallowing from increasing nerve damage, he began saying there was “nothing gluten-free” or that he “forgot” anything I could eat.

During that same period, I would wake up with bruises shaped like large hands, with pain that felt as if I had been struck. When I questioned it, he blamed me and claimed I must have caused it by rubbing a muscle there. I also watched him punch multiple holes in our walls in rage toward me — often after I asked for basic needs, clarification, decency, or simply a break from the isolation.

In April, right before he left, I had been losing days at a time. And had some of my worst bruising yet.

Every bit of which stopped the moment he was going on April 13th, 2025.

My short-term memory loss was getting worse, and instead of protecting me through that, he used it against me. He gaslit me and psychologically distorted my reality during a time when I was already struggling to remember, process, and trust my own functioning.

Steroids were the only thing that gave me brief periods of improvement, and even access to those was controlled. Those small windows of clarity and strength were temporary, and I was still dependent on the person who was supposed to help me recover.

On January 9, 2025, I ended up in the emergency room after the left side of my face became paralyzed and began to droop.

Difficult to advocate for myself with memory loss, little was done. Someone dropped me off and returned to pick me up.

In February 2025, after I asked him if he was trying to hurt me on purpose, he told me: “What are you going to do, call the police? You’re the one who looks crazy, not me.”

I was trembling in fear and unable to move.

As I later processed this trauma through the Ohio State STRIVE program, a program primarily serving combat veterans with PTSD, I realized that day was the day my functional tremors began.

That fear gave me life-altering tremors.

And every person meant to help me seemed to assume those tremors came from mental illness or drugs instead of trauma, fear, medical neglect, and neurological injury.

They were wrong.

And let me be clear: if I had been using drugs, I would say so. I am not ashamed of accountability. I take my actions seriously. I thought more people did, too. Over the last two years, I have learned otherwise.

By March, my body was continuing to decline. I was weak, unwell, and fighting like hell to get to a doctor. Around that time, moles on my body began falling off, and I knew something was seriously wrong. I pushed for medical care until I was finally seen by a surgeon, who removed seven surgical biopsies.

I was so weak and medically fragile during that period that I required a special breathing tube to better support my lungs during the biopsy procedure.

Since then, my body has continued to show the effects of prolonged stress, survival mode, trauma, neurological dysfunction, autonomic dysfunction, and an injury I was never truly allowed to heal from. I have dealt with recurring shingles, severe stress-related flare-ups, ongoing neurological symptoms, functional tremors, and now alopecia areata, an autoimmune hair-loss condition that appeared during this ongoing period of stress and instability.

I was injured, losing my memory, and depending on the person named as my caretaker — and instead of being helped back to health, I was left to survive.

At the same time, I have been fighting to protect and reunify my family.

He finally left, but found a new way to hurt me and the children.

What began as a custody matter has become something much larger and more frightening: blocked parenting time, post-separation abuse, non stop wellness and CPS calls, legal intimidation, and ongoing attempts to keep me separated from two of my children while I am still trying to recover physically, emotionally, and financially.

I have represented myself in court because I could not afford full legal representation. I prepared for and completed a multi-day custody trial on my own while still dealing with the effects of brain injury, trauma, short-term memory loss, neurological dysfunction, autonomic dysfunction, tremors, and medical instability. I submitted evidence, filings, timelines, communications, written closing arguments, documentation and questioning. Even my abuser and own Mother. Because I had no other choice and absolutely no one is going to abuse my kids and I. Or take my children.

I'm resilience, resourceful, and tenacious. This is my children and my life. 

But this has now escalated beyond what I can safely handle alone.

I am currently dealing with legal abuse in two counties, that I have evidence and I strongly believe are being used to interfere with my ability to parent, appear in court, defend myself, and remain safe. It's just another part of post separation abuse. 

I need an attorney. I also need medical stability. And a a bit lighter load to carry as I fight for our lives.

Not someday. Now.

A criminal defense attorney has reviewed my situation and is willing to help me move forward, but I need funds to retain legal representation. I also need help covering court-related costs, medical documentation, transportation costs, safe housing needs, printing, records, and the basic stability required to keep fighting back properly.

This fundraiser is not about revenge.

It is about survival, legal protection, healing, and protecting my children.

We deserve some peace. Together. It's up to me to get us there safely. 

For months, I have been kept from regular parenting time with two of my children. Every day away is painful, but I am staying focused, documenting everything, and continuing to fight through the proper legal channels.

Funds raised will go toward:

- Retaining a criminal defense attorney.

- Custody-related legal support and filings

- Court costs, filing fees, records, transcripts, and evidence preparation

- Medical documentation and follow-up care related to my brain/spine injury, neurological symptoms, autonomic dysfunction, shingles, alopecia areata, and a path of true healing. 

I'm exhausted. 

- Transportation costs to court, medical appointments, and legal appointments. Primarily out of town. 

- Safe housing and emergency stability needs

- Printing, certified copies, mailing, and legal organization costs

- General necessities while I continue fighting for safety and reunification with my family

I do not ask for help easily. But this has reached the point where pride has to move out of the way so protection can move in.

The legal system is not built for someone to grieve a child, survive a near-death medical crisis, recover from a brain/spine injury, manage short-term memory loss, defend against legal attacks, fight for custody, and rebuild their life all at the same time.

I am asking for help because I cannot keep carrying this alone.

If you can donate, thank you from the deepest part of my heart.

If you cannot donate, please share.

If you have ever believed a mother should not have to lose everything just to protect her children, please share.

If you have ever wondered how someone gets trapped in the system after leaving abuse — this is how. And this is also how we help someone get out.

Every dollar helps me get closer to legal protection, medical stability, safety, and the day my family can breathe again without fear, interference, or another courtroom standing between us.

Thank you for standing with me.

With love and grit,

Kristy Miller