I never imagined I would be writing something like this. But I am out of options, and my mother’s safety depends on what happens in the next 24 hours.
For the past several years, I have been my mother’s sole caregiver. She suffers from advanced dementia and has no one else in the world but me. When her sister — her last remaining family — passed away in 2019, my mother informally inherited her home. I moved in to care for her and did everything in my power to keep that roof over her head while managing her daily needs: her medications, her meals, her safety, her dignity.
Caregiver burnout is real. So is financial collapse.
The weight of it all — years of pouring every dollar, every hour, every ounce of energy into keeping us both afloat — finally broke us. A series of costly crises cost me my job, my car, and my home. My mother was evicted. We lost all of our furniture. We walked away with only what we could carry.
For the past several weeks, my mother, her three cats, and I have been living day to day in motels. Every morning I wake up not knowing if I’ll have the money to pay for another night. I have called every agency, reached out to everyone I know, and exhausted every option available to us. This post is my last resort.
Here is where things stand right now:
• We have no money for tonight’s motel room
• I have found a landlord willing to work with us — but the apartment won’t be available for at least two more weeks
• I cannot leave my mother alone to work full-time — her condition requires constant supervision
• The cats are her companions and a source of deep comfort to a woman who often doesn’t know where she is
I am not asking for a miracle. I am asking for two weeks of survival — enough to get us to that apartment, to get back on my feet, and to give my mother the stability and safety she deserves.
Every dollar goes directly to keeping us indoors. If you cannot donate, please share this. Visibility is everything right now.
Thank you for reading this far. Thank you for your kindness. I will pay it forward for the rest of my life.
— Aleks K. Shaw






