My name is Maksim. I was born in Russia under circumstances no child should ever face. My mother was mentally ill. My father was just a teenager. They never married. He disappeared. I was raised by my grandparents—the only people who ever truly loved me.
When we came to America, I tried to build a life. I graduated college. I worked hard. I stayed out of trouble. But when my grandparents grew old, I gave up everything to care for them. No hesitation. No complaints. For four years, I was their full-time caregiver.
I cooked. I cleaned. I drove them to appointments. I stayed up through the night when they were sick. I did it all out of love. I never asked for anything. What I didn’t know was that my aunts had secretly enrolled them in homecare services and were collecting thousands of dollars—for the work I was doing. I never saw a cent.
After they passed, I moved into a small apartment with my mother, who still battles schizophrenia. I was finally approved for a government caregiver program—but only for 16 hours every two weeks. Meanwhile, my aunt had been receiving 120 hours per month for my mother alone. She knew I was doing everything. She never offered a dime.
The one time I asked her for $120 to help cover the internet and phone bill, she said, “I can’t carry two families.” As if I was asking for the world. She made me feel guilty for even asking—while quietly collecting $2,000 a month for the care I was providing every single day. I’ve lost sleep trying to understand what she has against me. I know it’s about money. But this level of heartlessness? It’s beyond me.
What hurts most is that she’s the same person who’s called on me for help countless times. And every time, I dropped everything to be there. No hesitation. No resentment. Just love. But now I see it for what it is—manipulation. I was being used. And when I needed even the smallest bit of support, I was made to feel like a burden.
Then came the moment that shattered me. My mother had an episode while I was out. The police were called. She was hospitalized. My aunt—who holds power of attorney—took her away. Just like that. The only person I had left in this world—gone. I was left alone in an apartment approved under my mother’s Section 8 housing. I was listed as her live-in caregiver. Now I’m unemployed, two months behind on rent, and my car was repossessed.
I had just started receiving caregiver pay—two checks, finally, after years of doing everything. And then, out of nowhere, my mother had an episode. It wasn’t new. She’s always had episodes. But when they happen, she clings to me. I’m her safe place. That’s how it’s always been.
This time, I was at the store when it happened. She thought her recently deceased father had come back from the grave to harm her. She screamed like someone was trying to kill her. The police were called. And my aunt—who barely spends time with her—acted like it was the first episode she’d ever had. She blamed me. Said I triggered it. But if she had ever truly been there, even once, she’d know this has been part of our reality for years.
She didn’t take my mother out of love. She took her to get the money back. I found out the truth—she couldn’t afford to paint her fence that month, and suddenly my mother was gone. It wasn’t care. It was greed. She wanted the $2,000 a month back, plus whatever shady deal she has with the homecare company—which also runs the daycare my mother hates. It’s heartbreaking.
My mother keeps asking for me. But I’m not even allowed to see her alone. There’s no moment for me to speak with her privately. No chance to get the power of attorney switched. I have an appointment with the case manager tomorrow morning to fight for her return. I’m her caregiver. I’m her son. And she’s being kept away from me like a prisoner.
I’ve lost my grandparents. I’ve lost my mother. I’ve lost my cat. I’ve lost my income. I’ve lost my footing. I’ve never asked for help like this before. I don’t even know how. But I’m drowning. I was getting $2,900 a month—just enough to survive and maybe invest a few bucks into my ideas. I’m an entrepreneur at heart. I have a mind full of inventions, stories, and systems. I was finally ready to build something. But now I’m stuck in a nightmare.
I’m not asking for a handout. I’m asking for a lifeline. A few thousand to catch up on rent. Maybe a vehicle to get around. A chance to breathe. A chance to fight back. A chance to reclaim my life. I’ve given everything to the people I love. And now I’m alone, watching the people who betrayed me live comfortably off the work I did in silence.
Please—if you can help me get through this moment, I promise I’ll pay it forward. I’ll build something beautiful. I’ll make this pain mean something. I just need a little help to stand again.
Thank you for reading.
—Maksim
paypal.me/maksimstrusovskiy
cashapp $Mak5ol