Fifteen years ago, life as I knew it shattered. After a protracted struggle concerning the well-being of my children, a failed marriage, and the devastating loss of everything I held dear, I found myself homeless. This homelessness wasn't a choice born of recklessness, but a sacrifice made for my children. Their paternal grandmother had gained custody, and with me in the picture, access to my children was denied. Faced with the agonizing prospect of them losing both parents, I walked away, a decision that haunts me still, but one I believed was necessary. My life on the streets became a harsh education. I drifted from place to place, some better than others, enduring experiences that no one should have to face. I became the “mom of the streets,” trying to live with integrity in a world that seemed determined to break me. Through it all, I clung to the hope of reuniting with my children someday. The past two years have been particularly brutal. Despite the constant struggle, I worked tirelessly, trying to save what little I could in this unforgiving world. About two years ago, finally confronting my denial, I sought medical attention for persistent breathing problems. The diagnosis was pulmonary hypertension, a condition that has progressively worsened, making even simple tasks a struggle, especially in cold weather. Once fiercely independent, I now find myself reliant on others, a difficult position for someone who has learned to depend on no one. Adding to this physical burden, I endured a toxic three-year relationship. While it had its moments, the relationship deteriorated, culminating in a year of what felt like a personal prison sentence. The man I had trusted became a stalker, a thief, and a constant source of harassment, even targeting my friends. The situation escalated to the point of contemplating suicide as a means of escape. Miraculously, a lifeline appeared. A person, now a vital part of my life, intervened, effectively saving me from the darkness that threatened to consume me. A month ago, I finally escaped the clutches of that toxic relationship, a freedom I never thought possible. I now share an RV with this individual and another person. This precarious living situation has highlighted another urgent need. The RV, our shelter, requires repairs that we cannot afford. After all that has been done for me, I feel compelled to do everything in my power to contribute. Beyond the RV repairs, I am also trying to rebuild my life, replacing necessities like clothing and other personal items that were stolen or lost during that difficult period. I am not asking for a handout, but a hand up. I am seeking assistance to repair the RV, not just for myself, but as a way to repay the person who gave me back my life. I am also trying to reclaim some semblance of normalcy by replacing the things that were taken from me. My journey has been one of hardship and resilience, and I believe that with a little support, I can continue to rebuild and create a more stable future.