Life can sometimes feel like a delicate dance between light and dark, between blooming and withering. I never imagined that, after nearly losing my life to sepsis, I'd find myself here asking for help.

In late August, I was rushed to the hospital in critical condition after my 36th birthday, and though I am incredibly grateful to be alive, the medical bills have been mounting, and the burden is more than I can bear alone.

I'm reaching out, hoping you can lend a hand to help me heal—not just physically, but emotionally and financially, as I rebuild from the ashes of the past year.

This year has been a journey I never anticipated.

Almost 11 months ago, I lost everything in the destructive Eaton fires. My home, my belongings, and most heart-wrenching of all: my 7-year seed collection that I had carefully cultivated over the years (from fieldwork to symposiums to personal exploration) was lost in an instant. With 16 years of experience in both conservation and horticulture, this collection was my life's work—representing countless hours of passion, research, and dedication. As a botanist, my work is like my roots, and to lose that life's work felt like having the ground torn out from under me.

In addition to all of this, I've been working to heal from an abusive relationship. The scars—physical, mental, emotional, and financial—have made it incredibly hard to move forward. While I'm doing my best to recover, the constant weight of these losses has left me feeling like I'm treading water.

And yet, most of my energy has gone towards protecting my family and my undocumented neighbors from the terrors of ICE, resisting surveillance and displacement, dropping off groceries to families too scared to leave home, taking part in patrols, intervening, and putting myself on the frontlines by any means necessary.

I am asking for $3500. $1,500 will go to starting a payment plan for the medical bills of staying overnight my first time being hospitalized. My credit has heavily been affected and lowered due to not paying straight off & I hope to find more solid stable work to pay the rest off after that. $600 will go to reinstating my car and motorcycle since I don’t have insurance and both have been getting fined for not being registered- so this helps me continue being proactive in ICE patrols. The rest will help provide me in paying off bills, go towards partial rent, and buy groceries as my EBT has been cut off (as well as for everyone else).

But despite these overwhelming challenges, I am holding on, like a seed in the mud, pushing through the darkness toward the light. The struggle has been real—every day feels like a new layer of soil I have to break through. And now, after this unexpected medical crisis haranguing me with bills, I am asking for your help to rise above it all and rebuild.

I often think about our California native chamise (Adenostema fasciculatum), a plant whose seeds require the intense heat of wildfires (160 to 180°F) to germinate. Its strategy is one of endurance and timing. For years, their seeds can lie dormant beneath the surface, waiting for the fire.

Fire doesn't kill them, it awakens them.

That's what this moment feels like.

I've been burned, buried, and broken.

But like the chamise, I am germinating in the aftermath, reaching for light, determined to grow again, and always with purpose.

This support will help me focus on healing and not on the weight of debt that is threatening to hold me back.

Without your help, I fear that the obstacles I face may be too much to overcome—not just in terms of my physical health, but in my ability to rebuild everything I've lost.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

Your generosity and support will help me grow, recover, and rebuild my life, just as a seed finds its way to the surface after a fire, reaching for the light.

Every step forward feels like a bloom after the storm, and I am so incredibly grateful for anyone who takes the time to read my story, share it, or contribute in any way. Thank you for being part of my journey toward recovery.