Help Me Keep My Home While I Recover From the Life Sepsis Left Behind

I survived sepsis in 2016. I didn't know it would take almost ten years to understand what it left behind.

In 2016, I nearly died.

I developed sepsis, and my doctors told my family I had roughly a 50/50 chance of surviving. Somehow, I did.

At the time, surviving felt like the end of the nightmare.

It wasn't.

For years afterward, I wasn't the same person. My memory wasn't the same. My thinking wasn't the same. My emotions weren't the same. Everyday tasks that had once been routine became exhausting. I struggled with anxiety, depression, panic attacks, and cognitive problems that seemed impossible to explain.

I kept trying to push through.

I changed jobs.

I took medical leaves.

I tried to convince myself I just needed to work harder.

I believed the doctors when they said it was "just depression" or "just anxiety."

Last September—almost a decade later—I finally learned about Post-Sepsis Syndrome.

For the first time, everything started making sense.

Since then I've been diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder with anxious distress, PTSD, Panic Disorder, ADHD, agoraphobia, persistent brain fog, memory impairment, and cognitive difficulties. None of these diagnoses erase who I am, but together they've made maintaining steady employment incredibly difficult.

I didn't stop trying.

I kept working as long as I possibly could.

I worked in Human Resources because I genuinely enjoyed helping people solve problems and navigate difficult situations. Looking back, it's painful to realize that while I was helping others through some of the hardest moments of their lives, I couldn't understand what was happening in my own.

Over the past eighteen months, my life has unraveled faster than I ever imagined possible.

My marriage ended.

I've become estranged from my family.

People I trusted stole from me.

I lost my job while on medical leave.

I've spent months applying for assistance, waiting through paperwork, appeals, and phone calls.

I'm currently waiting through the lengthy SSDI process while trying to survive in the meantime.

I was denied Medicaid and SNAP over technical eligibility issues despite years of documented medical history. Those decisions don't change the reality of my health—they've only made getting through this period even harder.

Before creating this fundraiser, I sold nearly everything I owned that had any real value.

I sold possessions because I wanted to solve my own problems before asking anyone else to help.

Eventually, there was nothing left to sell.

Now I'm approximately ten months behind on my mortgage.

Foreclosure proceedings have begun.

My HOA has scheduled my property for auction.

My water, phone, internet, and other essential services are all at risk or already suspended because I simply don't have the money to keep them going while waiting on disability.

This is the first time in my life I've asked strangers for help.

That is not an easy thing to admit.

If you've ever wondered why someone waits until things become this serious before asking, this is why.

Pride.

Hope.

The belief that somehow things will turn around tomorrow.

Eventually tomorrow runs out.

Where your donation goes

Every dollar raised goes directly toward stabilizing my situation while I wait for disability benefits.

Mortgage arrears: $45,000

HOA lien and attorney fees: $5,700

Trash service balance: $900

Utilities, food, and basic necessities: Approximately $1,100

Total goal: $52,700

If we don't reach the full goal, every contribution still matters.

Keeping utilities connected matters.

Buying groceries matters.

Paying down liens matters.

Reducing the financial damage matters.

No donation is too small to make a real difference.

Why I'm sharing all of this

Because I don't want anyone to wonder if I'm hiding something.

I know this is a large amount of money to ask for.

I know people have every right to ask questions before donating.

That's why I'll continue posting updates about where funds are going and what progress is being made. Transparency is important to me.

I don't expect anyone to solve my life.

I'm simply asking for help getting through the hardest chapter of it.

Looking ahead

If disability is approved, my goal is simple.

Stay in my home.

Continue treatment.

Regain stability.

And eventually use everything I've learned to help other sepsis survivors avoid spending years wondering why they never felt like themselves again.

If sharing my experience helps even one person receive answers sooner than I did, then some good will have come from all of this.

If you can't donate

Please consider sharing this campaign.

Sometimes one share reaches the person who can change everything.

Whether you donate, share, or simply took the time to read my story—

Thank you.

Your kindness means more than I can put into words.