I went back and forth for a few days on even making this because asking for help has never been me.

I moved out of my mom’s house at 17 years old and I’ve been on my own ever since.

I’ve always figured it out.

Always worked.

Always handled what needed to be handled.

Always made a way for me and my children no matter what.

I’m a CNA and I’m in school working toward nursing because I’m trying to build a better future for my family. Everything I do is for my kids.

And for the longest I truly believed staying where we are right now was okay for the time being. I thought I was giving them stability. I thought I was giving them the best life I could with what I had while working toward becoming a homeowner.

I really believed that.

But lately I’ve had to sit with some hard truths.

And one of the hardest truths is that I truly feel like we need to move before I end up burying a child. Even typing that hurts in a way I can’t explain, but it’s the honest fear I’ve been carrying. I know in my heart that if something happened to one of my babies because I didn’t listen to what I’m feeling now, I would never be able to move forward from that kind of pain.

My oldest daughter is going through something right now that has honestly shaken me in a way I can’t put into words. As her mom, seeing the hurt in her eyes and knowing I can’t just make it disappear has been heartbreaking.

And after talking with my other children and really hearing them, I realized they’ve been carrying things too.

For a long time I thought because I addressed situations right away and handled the racism when it happened that they were okay.

I thought I was protecting them enough.

I thought if I stayed strong and kept pushing through, they would feel safe.

But as time goes on I’m seeing that so much of it stayed with them.

The emotional impact.

The mental impact.

The weight of feeling different.

The ache of wondering if they truly belong.

And as a mom… that hurts deeper than I can explain.

Because I can carry a lot.

I can deal with a lot.

I can go without sleep, work long shifts, keep pushing and figure things out.

But watching it affect my children… watching them carry pain they shouldn’t have to carry… that is a whole different kind of heartbreak.

I’ve even thought about homeschooling because that’s how serious this has become for me. But realistically with my work schedule and being in nursing school, I know that may not be the best fit either.

I’m doing everything I can to figure this out and make the best decision for my babies.

I don’t have every detail figured out yet.

I’m still researching.

Still trying to figure out exactly where we need to go.

I just know deep in my heart that I want more for my children.

A place where they feel accepted.

A place where they don’t have to brace themselves before walking into a room.

A place with more support for Black families.

A place with autism resources.

A place with healthcare opportunities.

A place where they feel safe, seen, supported, and like they truly belong.

Making this was hard for me because I’m not used to asking for anything.

Being vulnerable like this is uncomfortable for me.

But I’m willing to be uncomfortable, willing to ask, willing to lean on community if it means doing what’s best for my kids.

whether that’s donating, sharing, resources or prayers… thank you