Where to start in painting the picture that has become my life, comfortable like an old sweater, worn and tattered like a dogs’ favorite chew toy. Everyone has a history, everyone has a story, but not everyone likes to tell it with all of its mismatched, patchwork spaces that make us who we are. I began my life in a small town, loved by my family and the apple of my father’s eye. As I grew, I had only the occasional friend, but I didn’t mind, I had my dolls and my dog. Moving away to college I realized that I was a kind person with a good head on my shoulder, the credit going to my parents for being active in my life and pushing me to work hard to be all I could be. Teaching in another small town, I realized I had more to offer kids and the school system, so I returned to college for another degree. Trouble was no one thought a 27-year-old girl could lead a school in that small town. So, I went to the last frontier, where they hire everyone. I worked hard was loved by many. I married and had children, two beautiful babies that loved unconditionally. 5 years in, my husband hurt himself and never walked again. We were at the height of our careers, a 3-year-old and one on the way. Movers and shakers, but one half not moving and shaking any more. One half unable to see any glass as half full ever again. Me? no, my glass is overflowing, my partners? yes, his is running on empty. I tried for years to be the fixer… to hold it all together as my kids realized that Dad wasn’t coming to this event, or that event, or probably wasn’t even going to get out of bed. I tried to fix it by building a home back in the state he grew up in, by his family. But that didn’t work out so well. Now we have a home that we all love, and is easy for him to get around in, but on one salary in a poor state, we can no longer afford the mortgage we originally could. When I tried to fix this by moving down here, I was sure my family, always the stalwarts, would be able to help us. But shortly after moving out by us, my father shattered all of our lives by leaving us for a woman he had been seeing on the sly for 50 years. So now add to my growing list of responsibilities, my mother, who has no one, as my only sibling, Dave was taken by cancer just prior to my fathers’ departure. Through all of this, my children dealt with anxiety, anger, depression and a void left huge and gaping by a father that is there, but not there. Now our daughter is an adult, she got there following her own road which is one of the most beautiful and painful things a parent can watch. She left this week to live in my home state, to go to school in a place where being gay won’t get her killed. She is looking for work and tries to be independent, but her rent and schooling are just more bills. Both of my children have been at my side through the women’s marches, human rights campaigns, planned parenthood support marches, letter writing to our congressmen, calling our legislators, rallying for those being wronged. A blue family in a red state. I teach still and I love it. Helping those kids see beyond their small scope to the big world and understanding that even if you are down and out, you can still be kind, have empathy and work to make this world a little bit better. I am writing this in the hopes that it will resonate with someone, someone who has the ability to help me, to get the wolves away from my door so that we are able to continue to help those around us that need our kindness and our energy. The one stability I need to be able to give to my family is the place we have come to call home, the place that gives us our inner strength and allows us to get up each day and be strong for ourselves and for those that need us. I would love to be reincarnated as a philanthropist with money. Ironic how nothing sounds better to me that to be able to help those in need, as I help those in need. I am asking for money to pay off credit cards (which we no longer have, I only purchase with cash now), handicapped accessible family vehicle, and back taxes. In all I owe $150,000 aside from my mortgage. I make $65,000 a year teaching in a public school. Any help you can provide is greatly appreciated.