For the last six years, my son and I have been trying to find stability, safety, and a place to finally call home. Instead, it feels like every time we begin to rebuild, life pulls the ground out from under us again.

When my son was a baby, we lived in an apartment that turned out to have lead contamination. He ended up with lead poisoning, and we were forced to leave. After that, we moved into another apartment where there was a severe mice infestation that the landlord refused to properly address. We stayed there for two years before my son started getting sick. Once we finally began packing to leave, we realized how bad the infestation truly was. We had to throw away most of our clothes, furniture, and belongings and start over from almost nothing.

After that, we thought we had finally found our dream apartment — a place where we could stay long-term and finally have some peace. Instead, our elderly landlord began exhibiting deeply concerning behavior tied to religious psychosis. He would sit in our backyard for hours, constantly knock on our door, and damage our belongings. When we finally confronted him about how unsafe and uncomfortable the situation had become, he told us that “God spoke to him” and said we had to leave. Once again, we were displaced with nowhere to go.

Six months ago, a family member in Ohio offered us a place to stay while I worked toward my master’s degree in social work. The plan was simple: work hard, finish school, save money bartending, and finally create a stable future for my son. I truly believed this move was going to change our lives for the better.

Instead, we walked into the most toxic environment we’ve ever experienced.

My seven-year-old son was repeatedly told to “shrink himself down” so the adults in the home wouldn’t be frustrated by him. Then, a week ago, one of those adults physically assaulted him, leaving bruises and marks on his body. My son called me at work sobbing, telling me someone hurt him. I rushed home to find my child terrified. He now refuses to sleep alone, is scared to be in the house without me, and is struggling emotionally after what happened. The adult responsible has blamed my son for their actions instead of taking accountability.

No child should ever be screamed at, thrown down, sworn at, or physically harmed by an adult who cannot control their anger.

As if all of this wasn’t enough, the last few months have brought unimaginable loss to our family. Three months ago, our beloved dog of nine years passed away from an aggressive form of cancer after we drained our savings trying to save him. Two weeks later, my cousin passed away. Three weeks after that, my son lost his great-grandfather — his best friend and one of the people who helped raise him. Then, two days ago, my grandmother passed away as well.

This year has been filled with grief, instability, and survival.

Now, because I refuse to allow my son to remain in a violent environment, we are preparing to move back across the country to Rhode Island with little to no money. I will likely lose my scholarship and may have to pause my degree entirely in order to work full-time and keep us afloat. It’s heartbreaking because my education is supposed to be the thing that finally gets us out of survival mode — but right now, my son’s safety has to come first.

We are asking for help with:

• Moving expenses to relocate safely to Rhode Island

• A reliable vehicle, as our current car is unsafe and unreliable

• Childcare so I can continue working

• Food, toiletries, and daily living expenses while we get back on our feet

• Basic stability while we search for housing and rebuild our lives again

We have just enough money to cover the U-Haul and towing our car. Beyond that, we are starting over with almost nothing.

As hard as it is to ask for help, I have to put my pride aside for my son. He deserves safety. He deserves stability. He deserves a childhood where he does not have to be afraid in his own home.

If you are able to donate, share, or even just send support, it would mean more to us than I could ever put into words. Thank you for taking the time to read our story and for helping us get to safety and start over one more time