Hi everyone, my name is Nadia Hasan. I’m thirty-five years old, I’ve been disabled since birth from cerebral palsy, and about ten years ago I had an accident that left me with three fractures in my lumbar spine. Ever since then I’ve been completely bedridden and confined to my bed. I’m five courses away from a BA in English and Creative Writing. I work as an author, crisis counselor, advocate, and artist. I now live with my partner, two dear friends, and our puppy. I had aspirations of getting a masters degree in forensic psychology in order to further a career as a therapist or crisis counselor. But now, everything I know and hold dear is in danger. My household is in danger. That’s why I’m here today asking for help.

On September 13, 2025 my grandpa, Robert, died very suddenly here at home. He was my best friend, my caregiver, my last remaining parent, and my whole world. Some of you are already know that I lost my mom two years ago to cancer and kidney failure. My biological father wants no contact from me. The loss of Papa has been devastating to my family, to his friends, and to all who knew him, and I will never detract from or diminish anyone else’s pain and grief. That is the last thing I ever want to do. I’m coming to you today because I need help, but I do so with much shame and awareness of how it will be perceived by others who have already voiced opinions. I’m here because my options are limited and people have been asking how I need help.

Speaking for myself, losing Papa has been a crushing blow to an already tenuous and precarious life that I’ve carefully built. I heard him die. I still hear it when it’s too quiet. My whole world is in shambles and if I’m being honest, I struggle most days to find a reason to continue existing. My purpose is gone. My dreams feel hollow and pointless. I’m no longer anyone’s child. Anyone’s responsibility. Anyone’s burden. I know that no one is under any obligation to care about what happens to me. Though I know beyond doubt that I’m loved, I know I’m not needed and I’m resigned to the inevitable inequities of life. I’m no stranger to suffering, but I can bear no more and if it weren’t for the logical understanding that I must continue and that it would hurt others, I wouldn’t do this. The light has gone out of my life. I put on a good face, I get through each day, I fall apart in isolation. I’m strong because I was trained that way, but all of my loving protectors have gone beyond where I can reach them and where their love is too far to reach me.

Here’s the condensed version of what’s going on. Since losing Papa:

- I’ve lost one of my two jobs (the higher paying one)

- My SSI (which is the bulk of my income) is being cut off entirely on 11/1 indefinitely until misunderstandings are resolved.

- I’m in a position where I could lose my second job if I take any bereavement leave from school as I’m employed through work-study

- My visiting doctor will no longer be covered under my insurance as of 11/1

- Everyone else in the household is waiting for new employment to kick in (paperwork, legalities, etc.) so I’m the sole provider and income at present.

- I’m working on getting new state caregiver arrangements in place

That doesn’t leave room for planning my grandpa’s memorial, finding important documents, or grieving. Vital things. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I can’t feel. All I know is me and my household are in serious trouble. We’re a household of disabled people working together to support each other. People that I moved in to help me because my grandpa’s health was quickly declining. People who moved in because they saw me struggling and gave up their former lives to support me. They are my family, bound not from blood or obligation, but found and formed in love and selfless commitment. I don’t expect anything. But if you can spare anything or have it on your heart to give, or even just share this, we’d all greatly appreciate it. I’d appreciate it. It would mean so very much from the bottom of my broken heart.