VENMO @AprilEAT
A few months ago, my parent suffered a serious medical emergency, and I made the decision to put my life on hold and temporarily relocate to help care for them. I used my savings believing I could carry the financial burden until things stabilized, but the recovery has taken much longer than expected. My savings are now gone, my storage unit containing my belongings is already at risk, rent is due again in just a few days, and my electricity and water could be disconnected. I also have pets depending on me, and one of my biggest fears is not being able to keep the electricity on so they can remain safe and comfortable. I am running out of time, and I desperately need help getting through the next month or two.
Writing those words hurts more than I can explain.
I have always taken care of myself. I have worked hard and carried my own responsibilities because I never wanted to depend on someone else to take care of me.
And more often than not, I have been the person helping others.
If I had it and someone needed it, I helped. If there was something I could do for another person, I tried to do it. I never kept score because I didn’t help people expecting anything in return.
I just never imagined that one day I would be the person on the other side, asking strangers to please help me.
When my parent became seriously ill, there wasn’t much of a decision for me to make. My faith teaches me to honor my parents, and when my parent needed me, I went.
I would make that decision again.
But financially, it has cost me far more than I ever anticipated.
Weeks became months. My savings dwindled while my regular obligations continued. I cut expenses. I stretched every dollar. I kept telling myself, Just make it a little longer. Something will come through.
I have continued looking for work that I can perform from my current location and for other legitimate ways to generate income. I am not sitting around waiting for someone to rescue me. I am fighting every day to get myself out of this situation.
But right now, I have run out of financial runway.
My storage is already on the chopping block, and I am terrified of losing belongings I have spent years working for because I cannot make the payment.
Rent is due again in a matter of days.
My electricity and water are at risk.
And then there are my pets. They didn’t choose any of this. They depend completely on me, and regardless of what I am going through, I still have a responsibility to make sure they have food, water, and a safe and comfortable environment.
These aren’t luxuries.
They are the basics I’m desperately trying to hold onto.
It is incredibly difficult for me to admit this, but I need help now.
If I’m truthful, this feels like begging.
And that hurts.
It hurts to have spent so much of my life taking care of myself and helping other people and suddenly find myself wondering whether strangers might be willing to help me keep my lights on.
But pride isn’t going to pay my rent.
Pride isn’t going to save my belongings from being lost.
Pride isn’t going to keep the electricity and water connected.
And pride isn’t going to take care of the animals that depend on me.
So I’m putting my pride aside and asking:
Please help me.
I am trying to raise enough to cover my immediate expenses and give myself approximately two months of breathing room while I continue working toward stable income. I’m not asking anyone to support me forever. I just need a bridge to get from this crisis to the other side.
And please don’t think your contribution is too small to matter.
$5 helps.
$10 helps.
$20 helps.
Enough small acts of kindness can save a storage unit, keep a utility connected, buy pet food, or put something toward rent.
I am intentionally keeping identifying details private because my parent’s medical circumstances are their story too, and I don’t want their private medical situation—or my financial hardship—connected to either of us publicly.
I wish I were on the other side of this post.
I wish I were reading someone else’s story and deciding what I could afford to give.
That’s the person I’m used to being.
Today, I’m the one asking.
And it truly hurts.
But right now I don’t have the luxury of being too proud to ask.
If you can help me—even a little—please do.
And if enough strangers decide that my story is worth $5, $10, or $20, maybe together you can give me the breathing room I desperately need to get back on my feet.
Thank you for reading this far. And to anyone who chooses to help me, thank you for being there for a stranger at a time when she truly needed someone.
VENMO @AprilEAT