“There’s something wrong with Mom.”

That was how it began. I didn’t realize in the moment, but as my 8-year-old eyes pored over my mother’s diminished condition, my childhood was about to die. I held a phone to one ear, listening to my father’s instructions, and with the other I kept shaking my mother for lack of a better solution. She was going in and out of consciousness, head bobbing, eyes fluttering, and nonsensical words emanated from her mouth. She didn’t seem to be having a medical emergency, but she had been incapacitated by something. So, I called my father at work instead of dialing 911, and when he asked me what was wrong, I said I didn’t know. I was crying by this point, terrified of what might be transpiring. Was she going to die? He asked if she had fallen, or otherwise injured herself, and then curiously prodded as to whether she might have ingested something that made her sick, such as medication. I noticed a red, plastic cup on a table next to her, and sniffed inside, only to realize that it contained the remnants of some type of liquor. Right then, I noticed that her breath smelled the same. It hit me all at once: Mom was drunk. Blackout drunk. But that couldn’t be possible. We had never even seen her drink. Until now.

My dad came home and sent me and my older sibling to our bedrooms. As my mom slowly regained her senses downstairs, I hid along the railing in darkness and listened to the conversation. Mom kept denying she had been drinking, until she sobered enough to break down in tears and admit she had been doing this for a long time. In fact, she was able to hide it from everyone until the moment the disease finally took her to a place where she was overwhelmed. But… what disease?

Dad eventually came upstairs, and explained that Mom was sick, and needed help. She was something called an alcoholic. This meant that she would be going away for a while to a place called rehab where they’d make her all better, and then she could come home where everything would be fine again, just like it used to be.

So, we dropped her off at the rehab, and as I watched her disappear through the door leading to her new residence, I was assured that she would be home soon.

I never saw her again. At least, not the person she had been. That woman was gone.

I recall standing there in that moment, and turning my attention to the doctor speaking to my father. He looked at us, and inquired somberly, “Are you okay?” We looked at each other like, of course, we’re okay. She’s the one with the drinking problem. But we weren’t. Little did I know that this was the end of our family.

That’s when the trauma really began. I was asked to lie to everyone about where she was and what she was doing. So, while she had the convenience of being locked away from intrusive people, I was on the front lines of that secrecy being instructed to thwart any advance from those in her life attempting to learn the truth. I lied about her condition nonstop, as I was told, and suffered in silence without a mother as an 8-year-old boy. My father soon began spending time away from the home with other women, while my sibling decided the best way to deal with his pain of my mother being out of control was to hurt and control me. I had no protection from persistent abuse and neglect. And during the times my mother was around, we were cursed with the constant fallout of her alcoholism, from ambulances responding to nearly fatal emergencies to repeatedly catching her in the act of attempting suicide.

Each time she came home from rehab, we were graced with the false promise of a new day, one that never came to bear, and before long, that 8-year-old boy that I had once been in the mirror was suddenly a man, yet there was no emotional growth to accompany that metamorphosis. I had never learned anything but survival; the thought that I would need to find a way to thrive in adulthood was jarring, to say the least. I had never been anything but that child fighting desperately for Mom to finally come back, and the full weight of that psychological burden finally hit me at age 25 when my mother committed suicide.

As I had 17 years earlier, upon finding her, I picked up the phone and dialed, yet this time the call was to 911. She was clearly dead. And it was only then, after all those years of suffering, that I finally lost hope that she would truly come home.  For all of those years, while my peers were becoming the adults they were destined to be, and carving out their own identities, I had to come to terms with the fact that I was still that little boy holding the phone and calling for help, but I had held on for so long that, in the process, I got left behind. I wasn’t going to be able to catch up.

Trying to establish myself in my adult life has been a nightmare, especially because I don’t possess the formal education I would have otherwise received. For that reason, my professional life has been rife with failure and mostly directionless. I’m also a somewhat neurodivergent person, which comes with its own struggles, and the result is that I haven’t been able to find a suitable career path outside of artistic endeavors, such as writing. So, against all odds, I set out to try to make that happen. I wanted to not only use art as a way of expressing the irreconcilable pain of my past, but also as a conduit to becoming a professional who could finally thrive.

I started by writing a few plays, and soon enough I won an award, followed by a full production, and then another award. It was a great start, so I decided that transitioning to writing screenplays was the way to go. After writing and submitting several scripts, I began getting calls from managers potentially interested in representing me. I also managed to get a script into pre-production with a director attached. Things were going well, but I still wasn’t making the type of impact I wanted to because the scope of people indulging my work was quite limited, and only included professionals geared toward making sales. I needed to connect with an audience, I believed, in order to make my artistic value evident to employers.

But… How could I connect with an audience? How could I connect to more than just that single reader, so that my artistic fate is realized collectively, rather than by one person? I decided to start a podcast. Knowing that my emotional wound from childhood was created by that moment when I picked up the phone to assist my mother, I believed that picking up a microphone and calling out to other women in need of help or empowerment was the right way to go. So, I started a true crime podcast called Cold Case Murder Mysteries, a unique show which examines the criminal mind through psychology and evolution, specifically the manner in which women are changed and empowered through an antagonistic process leading to equality. While my quasi-autistic ramblings can sometimes be unfamiliar and off-putting to certain people, many others find them absolutely fascinating, especially other creative types. People began to take notice, and soon the phone rang.

A very well-known writer who created an extremely popular animated show had his assistant contact me and invite me to LA to appear on his live podcast. I was really excited, as he was very talented and influential, but also hesitant because he was a notorious alcoholic who had previously been accused of abuse. Soon after, I was invited back out there to spend time in the writer’s room, which was obviously a dream come true. I loved being in there with the writers, and it was great to realize I could hold my own in a place with so many talented people, but the most exciting part proved to be a tour of the animators’ production room. I was intrigued by the amazing art, along with the process. I asked the co-creator of the show if I could have two minutes of his time at the end of the week before I left, as a means of asking career advice. He said yes, and we made an appointment; however, he was intoxicated and absent from the office the entire week. I felt my childhood coming back to haunt me, but suddenly I got a text urging me to meet him at a local dive bar to receive the requested advice. I showed up, and he quickly told me he had no advice because he was bringing me on as a staff writer for the next season.

My mind was blown. I couldn’t believe it. I did it. I finally made it. I asked what I should do over the next 8 months until the job began, and he said nothing. I was set. So, I kept making my podcast, and though I was in financial trouble, I was comforted by the fact that this great job that paid so much was right around the corner. Except it wasn’t. He lied. When the time came, I was provided excuses that amounted to nothing more than total nonsense, and a harsh reality hit me like a punch to the face. After spending my entire adult life working for this moment in which I could finally leave behind the damage done by an alcoholic in my youth, an alcoholic from my adulthood was going to stomp me into the ground just the same. His last words to me were, “I feel like I owe you an opportunity.”

I never heard from him again. Without that job, my car got repossessed, and I was literally left in the middle of a desert city without a job or a car. Reeling from that experience, and knowing that I had touched the hearts of others in the entertainment industry, I made a call to my audience for help. Surely, somebody knew a person who could assist. I was contacted by a woman who said she loved my work, and that her husband was recently named the president of a prominent movie studio. They invited me to come stay in their guesthouse during Covid, and promised to introduce me to their friends in the industry who could help. I told them I had an idea for adapting my podcast into an animated TV series, and was soon connected to one of their very successful friends who is a revered creator of dark and mysterious material. Unfortunately, I knew this person had grown up in a home that involved sexual and other physical abuse handed down by a violent, alcoholic father, and had been fired from most jobs in the industry that he’d ever held, so I remained wary, to the greatest extent, that he would be problematic.

Everything started great. With my substance and his style, our first attempt to get a studio interested in the show rendered a “yes”. They were going to give us 150k to make a sizzle reel (demo) for the show to present to buyers. However, what was quite obviously a path to success soon became the worst nightmare I’d ever endured because I came to realize this person wasn’t interested in making a show. He wanted symbolic revenge on his father for what happened in his youth, and I was the perfect target of vulnerability. I was placed inside an abusive cycle in which this man could play the abusive father while the woman who had introduced me to him proceeded in the role of the mother who was forced to be complicit or else lose the resources of the father. So, I endured no fewer than 8 consecutive months of devastating psychological abuse, at the culmination of which I was dumped back into the desert with no car, no job, and no prospects for creating a future. After working extremely hard for years just to get one opportunity in the entertainment industry, I simply could not cope with having endured that level of abuse. So, I developed severe PTSD in the summer of 2021, and would often need to physically brace myself when the spells came that would make the room spin. This person’s abuse was nearly damaging beyond repair, but I have managed to fully recover.

After spending years working nonstop to have creative success and help other people, this was the thanks I received. I was left completely broken by people who want revenge for what they suffered in their youth, rather than healing. Yet, I thought of the fact that so many thousands of people have contacted me to say that I’ve enlightened them in some way, through empathy, understanding, and compassion. For every person who sends me a message like that, I know there are many more who haven’t, but are appreciative just the same. I want to be part of their healing process. I’m only one person, but I would like to offer what I have.

Unfortunately, in the time that has elapsed since these abuses, I’m left with no other option but trying to enter a professional world I left years ago, which means that employers are viewing a murder podcast at the top of my resume. It’s a great way to end up on the bottom of the pile, and that’s exactly what has occurred. Outside of my podcast, I have not been able to acquire any type of employment, despite a tremendous effort. I don’t even receive calls for minimum wage jobs. It feels as though I’ve been canceled from the world, yet my audience is still wondering when I’m coming back, and even more so, when I’ll finally climb out of this hole. There are so many people who care, but there is no one who can offer me employment.

I recently became homeless due to these struggles, and as I watch the remaining funds I have diminish to zero, it’s apparent that this story isn’t going to end well. I am not an addict. I have not given up hope. Thankfully, I still have my sanity. But I am currently only days away from complete disaster. There is so much love in my heart, and I have so much to offer others, but I find myself absent the resources necessary to get out of this hole. I want nothing more than to find the success I know is waiting for me, and I want it because I can use it to help other people. So many people are suffering in silence, and doing it in places where we can’t find them because they’re afraid. They need to hear our voices drawing near. They need to know they’re not alone, and that help is coming. I know this because I am both the person who has fallen into that pit and someone who can help them out.

But right now I need you to reach down and save me because I’m trapped. I’m calling out to you. And I know you can hear me. I believe that you’re coming.

I would like to get back into a small apartment and return to school to study 3D animation, so that I’m able to write and produce the animated true crime show I had intended to make, in addition to starting a new career as a 3D modeler/animator. My audience really believes in me, so they were kind enough to crowdfund an amazing laptop to do the animation, which is a great start. Unfortunately, I’m in need of a significant amount of education to complete the process, yet I don’t have basics like a home, sufficient clothing, or financial resources. I have sought all types of work, including minimum wage jobs, yet the result has been nothing but dreadful silence. It feels like I suddenly just vanished.

But I didn’t. I’m still here. I’m still fighting. And while I’m ashamed to say that I’m still that 8-year-old boy with the phone gripped in his hand, the truth is that this time I’m calling you. I can’t hear your voice on the other end right now, but I know you’re out there, and you’ll find me, because you’ve been waiting for this call too.

paypal.me/RyanKraus411

 

hi everyone my name is Courtney I’m 32 and ill start my plea with COVID it caused me to relocate due to being fired so I was evacuated from my home in Colorado. I was able to gather all I could from friends and their family’s to purchase a rent to own home in another state Oklahoma, my father being financially comfortable refuses to support me in any way but sending prayer’s over the phone in text. my closest friend donated me a 1994 jeep Cherokee which has fallen apart. I’m only able to go to the store and back, hence why i cant obtain a job. My land was purchased sight unseen the house is un-livable, the neighborhood kids shot all the windows out and vandalized it. Also due to holes in the floor and walls, with black mold I’m stuck living in one room. No electrical is ran in the home everything is running off of extension cords. I was lucky enough to rig the well here so i have water no hot water and currently using 5 gal bukets for a toilet.  My situation is dire.  I also not having money for sheet rock live with a wall that is covered in blankets.  I worry about winter coming, as it cannot hold in its condition.  I have a cat and dog who depend on me.  I am lucky to come up with enough dog food and cat food from a gaming app.  We are barely getting by.  I am now 2 months behind on rent and I have no other place to go.  I have to keep this place.

Any financial support would be GodSent.  Thank you.

https://www.paypal.me/earthchild8888

Cashapp: $earthchild8888

Ok, where do I start? It’s quite an unbelievable story so just bare with me. Almost exactly 2 years ago I was about to check my email on our family tablet, as I go to close out of my then boyfriends e-mail, I notice the word NUDE… it kind of sticks out in a sentence. I assumed it was spam and then I realise it had many replies back and forth. So laughing to myself I click on it, thinking I’m going to see some nude famous person or something typical a guy may have in email. Let me say, at that point we had dated for 20 years, minus a few years in the middle, and have kids so we have been through it all and I wouldn’t care if he looked up nude people. Anyways, the email is from a person asking him if he had any more nude photos. First I’m thinking maybe they wanted photos of him which wouldn’t really shock me since he’s a musician and I run his business so its normal to get messages from girls asking for crazy things lol.  Turns out the person was asking for more nude photos of local girls. Shocked I click on his reply and BAM a photo of ME pops up. Shocked again as he is pretty selfish and jealous, I couldn’t believe he would share a photo of me, I keep reading. Turns out they have been sharing nude photos of local girls in emails for months. Then I realise the emails are from 8 years ago. Its his 3rd email he only uses for armslist.  Then I see he recently sent an email to his other 2 main emails. It is photos and collages of his best friends wife! I end up checking the other 2 emails and in each emails sent folders are tons of emails with attachments of women I know, family, friends, clients and myself that he had been sending to himself and it turns out at least 3 other strangers he had been trading photos/videos with! Now at the time I had already been fed-up with his constant verbal, emotional and psychological abuse and had left many times, always hoping he would change or mean it when he said he can’t live without our family and he swears he will go to anger management and promises he will treat me better. I always see the good in people and am an eternal optimist and he used that to manipulate me. He conditioned me since I was 15 years old to think his many types of abuse were “Love” and since he hasn’t hit me for many years, he wasn’t abusive. He constantly would gaslight me into believing I should walk on egg shells so I didn’t make him explode and its my fault I didn’t deescalate the situation when he was flipping out, and always that it was somehow my fault. So there are many reasons I had left before but NEVER did I ever think this shit would be one of them. After a few days of going through every electronic device I could fine while he was out of town on a work trip(he’s a broke ass musician so no this isn’t fueled by me wanting anything from him… he has literally nothing lol), I was in utter disbelief at what I found. He had been stealing nude photos/videos from his best friend of his wife for at least 6 years, I found no less than 15 collages made just recently of her, He was making collages of he and I side by side with a photo of my twin sister….. so it looked like she was the one in the videos with him, sending photos to strangers of our friends, my sister, people I have known for years and people I don’t even know, stealing photos of my photography clients from their Boudoir sessions(lingerie) when I would leave, posted me online requesting people to “tell me what they would do to me” and to top it off he had been hiding cameras in our home, mostly our guest bathroom and our master bathroom for at least 13 YEARS!!!! Yes I say it again, HIDING CAMERAS IN OUR BATHROOMS FOR AT LEAST 13 YEARS!! I assume around 2016 he began his interest in watching me actually use the bathroom but I know I didn’t find everything he had so it could have been long before that. Yes using the bathroom, literally hiding his old phone in the bathroom and watching me live streaming from the next room on his webcam app for sexual gratification. I am a private person when it comes to the bathroom and it was the only time I wanted privacy or even got privacy since we had kids. So to find out that the only privacy I ever had or even wanted was just an illusion and he felt he had a right to every single second of my life and my time no matter how I felt, it changed me. I honestly think I was more of a possession to him and for 20 years I was his property he could do whatever he wanted to me and it didn’t matter to him. He violated my privacy, my trust, my family, my business, my sense of security, and had no regard for how this could affect me or most importantly our children if it was discovered. So after 4 days, on the day he was set to get home at night, I packed up most of the kids and I’s things and took it to my brothers and waited there with my brother for him to pull into the drive. My brother and sister refused to let me confront him by myself not knowing how he would react to me finding out something he had been hiding for at least 15 years. In true narcissist fashion he laughed when he came in thinking I had just decided to move out and brushed off my request to talk to him. I then said ok dont talk but you will listen to what I have to say….. “I know everything you have been doing, i found the videos and photos, I found it all…..” He played dumb for a long time but eventually my details of his crimes began to sink in and he began to sweat. I mean literally sweat too…. he got up off the floor at one point and he literally had a big wet spot on the asshole of his pants…. he was panicking so much he legit was sweating out his asshole lol. After almost 2 hours and many many lies, then half truths as he admitted tiny crimes then swearing it only happened once or admitting doing one thing but swearing he didn’t do another, I was ready to get out of there. He admitted pretty much all of it in texts and In the recordings my brother took of the confrontation, so honestly I can’t make this shit up lol. After leaving I found even more photos and videos on the tablet I took and the old desktop I took along with websites he had been using to connect with these people he had been emailing over the years. He swore he hadn’t sent anyone my photos but I proved it since it was STILL IN HIS EMAILS. He also swore he never posted me online and he never would do that and after I left I found a website he posted me on!!  I honestly didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want my kids to know about all of this since it would be incredibly traumatizing and they didn’t deserve to pay for his mistakes. So I tried my best I could to act normal since moving out was a big enough adjustment for them to deal with. I forced myself to continue switching the kids back and forth and picking up the kids at his house as if it wasn’t incredibly traumatizing every single time I had to go there. I knew I would rather deal with the trauma than make my kids aware of it. Then I found the video….. the one that broke something in me I dont think i’ll ever get back.  It was a video from a couple years before and he and I were in bed, but as I watched it, I didn’t remember recording it and then I see my face and realise I am completely unconscious. As the video continues I never once open my eyes, I am completely limp and he even has to put his phone down to pick me up and flip me over more than once. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing and my mind had been so filled for weeks with images and videos of everyone from my sister to my clients, that I don’t think my mind would even let me comprehend what I was seeing.  It was my sister that first used the word rape…. I had thought it deep down but its like my mind refused to let that be an option. It wasn’t till I spoke to a lawyer 2 months later to grasp what I really should or could do to protect myself, my kids, my clients and anyone else involved, that I could truly see what had happened to me. In black & white on my phone I read an email the lawyer had sent me of a draft letter to my ex, that read “Rape of my client….”. I don’t know why it took seeing it right there in black and white for something to click in my brain, but it was like a light switch flipped and I could see all of it so clearly. I could see all of the years of abuse and all of the lies he told and all of the promises he broke and all of the ways he had used my kids and I as props to give off the persona he wanted to portray as the best boyfriend, the best father, the best friend and the best person anyone had ever met. When i look back no i see that he wasn’t a loving and caring father…. he wanted us to always do things together because he needed to control everything and if he didn’t get to be there then we didn’t get to go either. Every second of our lives was molded in a way to make sure his friends saw him with his kids, saw him turn down girls at shows who hit on him, give the illusion of the best friend and give the illusion that he just wanted to be there for all the kids firsts. In reality unless he could use it to perpetuate this idea of being the perfect father… then the kids missed out on it too. All of these things began to flood my brain over and over, all of it swirling in the background as I just kept seeing the word “Rape” over and over again as it tore through my body, as it touched every memory I had with him over the past 20 years, as it sunk into every single inch of my skin and echoed deep down into the depths of my entire being….staining the very edges of my soul. You see the assault is only a small part of the trauma a victim as to live with. The real bulk of the trauma is the perpetual fear, anger, depression, confusion, anxiety, paranoia, sadness, guilt, self blame, terror, helplessness, regret, bitterness, untrust and vengeance that you have to survive everyday for the rest of your life. Everything you do is harder from getting out of bed to going to work to doing homework with your kids. It seeps into your mind without warning and finding out your triggers is a new trauma all in itself. I dont know my triggers until hit happens and I’m on the floor in a full on trauma induced panic attack unable to catch my breath, barricading myself in my bathroom because my oldest kid came into my room and asked a question about school and the last thing you remember is begging her to leave your room as you look at the face of the man who broke you on her phone because she chose not to listen when you asked her to please stay in her room when she facetimes him and NEVER bring it in your room…. the only place you feel safe knowing he has never ever ever stepped a foot into your room.  Its like just seeing his face on video chat on her phone in my room made it a place I didn’t feel safe and I felt like he was here watching me like he did for so many years.  I could feel the fear and disgust wash over me as it coated every inch of my room and my skin. My safe place, my home, the only thing in my entire life, in my entire memory, that he didn’t touch or was never a part of, had been tainted by even the presence of him on her phone. So if you ever meet someone or know someone who has been assaulted….trust me when i say you will never understand how they feel, they don’t even understand it, and it’s ok if you don’t, they would never ever wish you did, just make sure you don’t hold their reactions against them or judge them for trying to just survive a situation they never asked for and do NOT want. I know I am a survivor but after 2 years of ……custody court delays, a lawyers whos done more harm to you than good, dealing with a dispatcher who violated the most important part of her job, a detective that never did his job, a prosecutor who has clear bias towards women and couldn’t give a shit about your case, an ex who admitted it all then 48 hrs later was denying it all and calling you the rapist and then bringing your oldest child into the situation and traumatizing them, and your little one who knows nothing of the truth but is traumatized by the world turning upside down & not understanding things, and dealing with panic attacks and every single thing life seems to throw at me that honestly you wouldn’t even believe…… I am a survivor but half the time i am so sick of having to survive it everyday. Its unfair and you never had a choice in any of it and some days that’s the hardest part, trying to get back the power of just having a choice. Most days I wake up feeling a little homicidal and sometimes I think its a miracle after 2 years that I still make the choice to be the person I teach my kids to be and let the system get me justice and karma settle the score. Unfortunately that has become an incredible burden on myself and my career and my kids. I have had to take so much time off to fight him for custody of the kids and keep him from getting more than supervised visitation.  It has caused me to loose entire days and nights to searching through electronics and websites to make sure myself or anyone else wasn’t posted on them. It has stollen days, weeks, months and years of my, life, time and my sanity keeping me from being able to work and when i do keeping me from being able to even focus on the job. I have had night terrors and cant use a bathroom without checking for hidden cameras. I haven’t let a single guy touch me since I left and this entire thing has consumed every single day for the past 2 years. I don’t sleep more than 4 hours a night, I don’t take any time for myself and I put on a good front and I am able to laugh it off most days but still almost every single day I break down and cry. I had to buy pretty much every single item for my entire place when I moved since i left every bit of furniture there even though we had just gotten a brand new bedroom suit and remodeled the entire master bedroom and walk in closet and laundry room. So I left with no money too. I’ve had to take so much time off and I now am the sole person responsible for raising and taking care of my kids including driving to and from school and sports and events and paying for all of the things they need every single day. I had just paid off 15k of my debt before I moved and after furnishing a 3 bedroom place…. my equipment broke and i had to invest 15k intol getting all new equipment. So now I’m 30k in debt…. have paid my lawyer 15k to do absolutely nothing but put me in contempt TWICE, ignore my requests for 6 MONTHS to get child support that he doesn’t pay, to ignore my calls and emails yet bill me for “reading them” and acting more like he works for my ex while never once treating me like i’m a victim. We haven’t even been in court the whole almost 2 years so 15k for telephone status conferences, not sending me magistrates orders and I get served with contempt papers because I didn’t know I had to even do anything and to this day I still haven’t even signed a contract with the lawyer because he is the worst lawyer I have ever seen!!!  So after trying every single program or outlet for help I can possibly find without making this all public and putting my kids through the public shame of everyone finding out…. I have come to literally beg for anyone and everyone who wants to help me try to survive this nightmare, to please, please help me try to pay for my overdue balance with my lawyer, make payments on my credit cards I’ve had to use just to survive and pay my rent, help supplement my income for all the time I’ve had to take off to try to meet with detectives, prosecutors, lawyers, counselors, Dr.’s and therapists for myself and both of my kids since we are all in specialized therapy for trauma victims.  I haven’t taken off more than a 10 days in 2 years since I don’t get vacation pay or overtime or holiday pay or anything at all since im self employed. So i literally work 7 days a week from around 8am to 2am most days of the week. Even now Its 3:14am and i have to be up at 6:45am to get up with the kids but I am so stressed and afraid about how i am going to make it another couple months let alone 2 more years that I’m staying up after I am done working to try to find some help.  This is just part of my story and honestly Part 2 may somehow be even more unbelievable but i’ll save that for another day. In the mean time, please if you can afford to give any financial help, You have no idea how much it would impact my kids and myself.  Im struggling to find hope most days and Im starting to get really hopeless so please for my kids sake so I can be here for them and be the mom they deserve without the crushing stress I feel every single day, please help me if you can!

Paypal.me

Please help me ❤️‍🩹 while I heal my broken bones 🦴

I very much appreciate anyone who reads this and sends prayers or money.  I need help with my bills while I recover from my injury, I’ve broken my leg and ankle in an accident.  I am a single mom and have been the sole breadwinner and caregiver for years.   This situation is the first time in my life that I haven’t been taking care of everyone around me, I would much prefer that scenario unfortunately it is not my current situation.  Currently I’m not able to work more than an hour or so before my leg begins to throb and I’m thrown into intense physical pain. The doctor thinks that I may have torn a ligament when my bones broke.

I want very much to work more but it currently isn’t possible and because of this I’m asking for help for the first time in my life.  Please help me so I can focus on healing rather than constantly wondering how I can pay my bills.

Again I truly appreciate any assistance you can give me ❤️‍🩹💕

cash app: $Frocked

It’s extremely difficult for me to write this, but here it goes:

I find myself in a challenging situation, and I’m reaching out to this wonderful community for support.

Due to unforeseen circumstances, and a few untimely, subsequent deaths in my family, I am currently facing a financial crisis. I have accumulated $20,000 in overdue bills, and despite my best efforts, I’m struggling to catch up. These bills include essential expenses only.

I’ve always been responsible with my finances, but life threw some unexpected curveballs my way, like many on this site.  As a result, I’ve fallen behind on my financial obligations, and I’m now at risk of losing everything.

I am actively searching for additional employment opportunities and exploring every avenue to improve my financial situation, but the bills continue to pile up, and I’m in danger of sinking deeper into this financial abyss.

Your generous support could make a world of difference in my life right now. Any contribution, no matter how small, will help me get back on my feet and regain financial stability. I don’t expect to get the full amount,  but if I do, that would change my life.  Your kindness and compassion would mean the world to me, and I promise to pay it forward once I’m back on track.

Please consider donating and sharing this campaign with your friends and family. Together, we can help me overcome this challenging period and start a new chapter of financial security.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to read my story and for your support during this difficult time.

With gratitude,

Fred S.

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