So, to start with, I feel I need to say that this is very difficult for me. I hate asking for help and prefer to do things myself. However, I am swallowing my pride and admitting that I can't do this alone.

Recently, my mother nearly died from pneumonia. She is still in the hospital at the time I write this. For the first three weeks that she was in the ICU, I was told that she could die at literally “any time.” The doctors told me multiple times to prepare for that to happen, as if that was all they expected. She finally began improving (because she is tough as nails), but won't be able to come home before Christmas. As a result, I have had to try and take over both her household and my own, along with all of the expenses of both. At the same time, I am trying to go to school for my Bachelor's Degree at Portland State University full-time while also finding a job that works with my school schedule and locating childcare that I can afford. This experience has been difficult, but I try to be strong for my girls. They are why I am doing this campaign, just as they are the reason that I do everything else.

My Family
Thanksgiving with my mom
 
Me:
I am a thirty-something single dad who is trying to get his B.A. late in life. I am currently a member of two separate academic honor societies, both Phi Theta Kappa and Tau Sigma, because of my hard work. I am working toward a career in education, editing, technical writing, or performing.

I am also an abuse survivor with PTSD. I can’t afford medicine for my condition, and it causes me some problems. Even so, I try to keep struggling forward.

But, let’s be serious. This isn’t about me. This is about…

 My Girls:


 Oldest:
My eldest daughter is amazing. She is a returning state champion in middle school wrestling, a Talented and Gifted (TAG) student, the lead in her school play, an amazing artist, and, most importantly, she is a kind, humble, caring person. Since I have been single, I have had to lean on her a great deal. She watches her sisters, bathes them, feeds them, puts them to bed, does the laundry, cleans up cat boxes, and a million tiny jobs. She does all of this without complaint so that I can go to school and have a job. I have no words to say how proud I am of this young lady.

She posted a note to me on Facebook a couple of days ago. It said that she doesn’t care about getting a Christmas this year. She just wants me to feel that I am finally good enough. Good enough as a person and as a father. I have no words.

She has had undiagnosed panic attacks for several years.
 

Middle:
The middle child is, in many ways, the most precocious. She is also a TAG student, and one of the top students in the entire school. She is a voracious reader. She has read all of the Harry Potter books through at least nine times, she has been tested at approx. 3-5 grade levels above her current grade in reading level. She takes time out of her school day constantly to help out in other classrooms, since she gets her schoolwork done super early each day. She does everything with all of her heart, but constantly doubts herself. She reminds me of myself to a painful degree. I want to save her from the same mistakes that I made, but I have to let her learn for herself, and that’s the most painful part.

She sent me a note through her school for parent-teacher conferences to thank me for always being open and honest with her (even when the truth hurts or embarrasses me), and for always making her laugh. Then she wished me good luck on my job interview (it was the fourth interview that week).

She has been diagnosed with PTSD.

 
Youngest:

Last, but never least, my youngest daughter is also a TAG student, and she has come very far despite numerous setbacks. She has ADHD, and was possibly the worst abused out of all of us because she was the youngest and did not fully understand what was going on at the time. Regardless, she has come a long, long way over the last handful of years, and she is growing into a wonderful girl. She is a special person that loves with all of her heart, and sometimes gets hurt because not everyone does. She is an amazing hugger. If ever anyone is feeling down, she will always offer a hug. She will give away her belongings to her sisters or friends without anyone saying anything to her just because she wants them to be happy.

She frequently makes me hand-drawn cards telling me how much she loves me. I keep as many as I can because I know she means every word.

She has also been diagnosed with PTSD.


The Problem
 
Despite my best attempts, a single student’s financial aid is not enough to take care of a whole family, and my school schedule had made it very difficult to find a good job. I very nearly had to quit school this term and throw out all of the work I had done, but I managed to make it through somehow. Even so, the bills keep piling up. With the help of some of my family, I hope to make it through to the end of December, when I get more financial aid. But, I literally have no money left at all. I am scraping together enough dollars to afford my last train ticket for the term so that I can make it to my last final in downtown Portland in two days. I have made all of my minimum payments this month’s bills, but that’s it. With mom in the hospital and me working maybe seven or eight hours per week, there’s not really any money coming in for me to afford to do anything for my girls.

 
The Backstory
 
I am proud to say that they really don’t care if we just have a small Christmas where they only make each other hand-drawn cards. We’ve had to do that before. During what we call “The Dark Times,” before my divorce, I used to have to hide money in my phone case. This was because my ex-wife liked to steal money from my pockets while I slept, take my bank card and go to the ATM, or just demand it outright to my face. So, if I didn’t hide some money, there were some weeks that we would not have eaten. Those times ended, however, when she physically assaulted me and broke my leg. That’s what it took for me to finally stand up to the threats and abuse we all were living under daily. I exactly one month and nine days from that assault, on my late father’s birthday, I ran to the courthouse during my lunch hour, filed for divorce, and was granted custody of my children due to the immediate danger to them posed by my ex-wife.

I don’t like to talk about this, but, as I said, I have to swallow my pride right now.

 
The Conclusion

I’m bad at asking for help, but I am asking you for help. At this point, literally anything would be a blessing to my family. Thank you for reading this. I know it was long and rambling. Thank you for your patience.