We never imagined we’d be here—opening our lives, our struggles, and our pain to the world and asking for help. But life has pushed us to a breaking point, and right now we’re fighting every day just to keep going.
Over the past year, everything we depended on has slowly fallen apart. My husband was badly hurt, and despite doing everything the doctors suggested—physical therapy, injections, medications—nothing has helped him heal. Every time he tries to work an odd job, he ends up in bed for days, barely able to move. The doctors won’t help further; they say he’s “too young” for surgery. Meanwhile, the pain controls our lives.
His truck, the only thing he had to get to work or even to doctor visits, blew up. We don’t have the money to repair it. I just learned that my job will be laying people off in January, so our small bit of stability is slipping away, too.
We’ve sold what we could. We’ve pawned things we cherished. We’ve tried to hold onto the things we worked so hard to build…but we are losing them one by one.
We were promised help—help that would have given us a chance to get back on our feet. His mother said she would help him access part of his inheritance early so he could run cattle and build a small business of his own. But at the last moment, she took it back. She told him he had been “helped enough” in life. Because we live on the family farm, every disagreement is followed by threats of being kicked out with 30 days’ notice. It’s a toxic, emotionally crushing environment, and we are running out of time and strength.
I finally have a job opportunity that could change everything for us. A chance to rebuild. A chance to breathe again. But to take it, we need to move—and because of an old bankruptcy, we are required to pay three months’ rent upfront, something we simply cannot afford right now.
We are asking for help with:
• Moving expenses to escape our toxic living situation
• Three months of upfront rent required to secure a new home
• Repairing my husband’s truck so he can get to appointments and eventually work again
We are not asking for a handout…we are asking for a lifeline.
Every dollar brings us closer to safety.
Every share brings us closer to hope.
Every act of kindness pulls us one step out of the dark.
We are exhausted. We are scared. But we haven’t given up. Please, if you can, help us take this step toward a future where my husband can heal, and we can finally stand on our own again.
Thank you for reading our story, for caring, and for giving us a chance at a new beginning.
