I need your help to get myself and two of my daughters out of a toxic and dangerous situation before it’s too late. I’ve been stumbling through life in survival mode ever since my survival became my responsibility, and I’ve made so many mistakes. I am a recovering addict that got clean for the most recent time in October of 2015. I’ve worked very hard to recover and I’m still clean today. Delilah is 14 (named after her Paternal Grandmother), and just graduated (yes, they have graduations from middle school now) from middle school after completing 8th grade. She tried out and made the Varsity Cheerleading Team already. She is athletic, hilarious, intelligent, driven, and she migrates between being very social and very solitary. She’s ridiculously smart, and aspires to be a lawyer someday, after beginning her college education at GSU, her dream school. She is my hard-core carnivore, and will clean a chicken drumstick down to only the bone. She loves cooking, dancing, and shopping. She struggles with depression and is very sensitive to the energy in her environment, as well as to sound (which is arguably the same thing). My nicknames for her are Choochie Moo and Moo Moo. Now, my baby, Annie (named after my mother and great-grandmother), is 8 years old and will be in 3rd grade next school year. She is my daily source of joy, and also of concern. She is very stubborn, creative, inquisitive, and the most intelligent of my three girls. She is a great communicator with very strong emotions. That combination seems to have her communicating some not-so-desirable (aka downright offensive) things when she’s unhappy. I’m working on it, but it’s slow-going in our current situation. On the other hand, when she’s happy or grateful, she communicates her feelings just as well. She isn’t very comfortable in social situations, likely due to her most formative years being during COVID isolation, in addition to issues with body image. She is a force of nature. She has a very dark side and a very light side. A couple of years ago, in a phone conversation with my dad about this, I’ll never forget what he told me. He said, “You’re the parent. You control the dark and light.” Of course, he was right. If the parenting dynamic and home environment were different, I’d be able to do that much more effectively. I used to call her Dink Dink, but somehow it’s evolved to Goo Goo. I have to mention my dog daughter, Cookie, too. I don’t feel right not giving her an intro as well. She is a very pretty pit bull mix, who turned two years old on February 18th. She’s been mine since she was 6 months old. We were her 5th home, and I am resolved to be her forever home. She is hilariously awkward and struggles with anxiety. She loves doing zoomies when I take her outside in the middle of the night, but she won’t go too far. It has to be the middle of the night because we live in Coralville, and I haven’t registered with the city, and even if I had, she wouldn’t be allowed off-lease, per city ordinance. We don’t have an enclosed yard. We spent a lot of time last summer and fall sitting outside and manifesting our land where she could run free and bark whenever and at whomever she desired. She’s terrified of water, and she’ll drink from the toilet, but won’t drink from her dish if the water’s more than 12 hours old. She thinks she’s a lap dog, but she’s rather large in that respect. She communicates love and affection in grunts, and scavenges compulsively for human food, collecting packaging and wrappers in her cave under a table. Thankfully, she seems to have given up her affinity for chewing up Annie's toys, shoes, and hairbrushes. The only family my kids know are my father and his wife, who live several states away from us. My mother passed away in 2013 after a 25 year fight with breast cancer. My mother had a big family, but after she passed, I became aware that she was the glue forcing them to include me and mine, and we don’t interact with them at all anymore. I grieve those relationships off and on, but it is what it is. I do take accountability for the impact my addiction and the choices I made when actively using had on these relationships. I have one brother and one sister. My brother lives thousands of miles away and though we talk a few times a year, I don’t know his kids, and he doesn’t know mine. My sister lives in our childhood home, 10 minutes from me. We haven’t spoken in more than 5 years.I don’t know her kids either. The only other family are my adult daughter and my god-daughter and her sons. Annie, Delilah, Cookie, and I live with my legally separated Husband (who’s also their father), George. We were married in February of 2012 at his home church in Iowa City. The only attendees were our newborn infant, his friend Rick, the church Secretary, and the Reverend of his church, who officiated. I didn’t tell my family until my mom was dying. She was at a point where she wasn’t able to know by that time, so she never did find out while she was here. My family never approved of our relationship, likely due to his criminal history and age. He’s black, but I can confidently say that race wasn’t the top concern on their list. Their concerns were valid, but, like so many other bad choices I’ve made, I wouldn’t change that one, either. Annie and Delilah wouldn’t exist otherwise. And there are a ton of other experiences I wouldn’t have had that were profoundly impactful to my evolution if I hadn’t chosen him. He’s not a bad man. He’s broken, and unwilling to see that and to seek healing. His daily presence is not good for me or my girls anymore. He’s a narcissist, a drug addict who’s never (in his 70 years of life on this earth) given recovery a try. He isn’t able and/or willing to support us. He is a veteran with three college degrees, and he won’t get an actual job. He’s become verbally, physically, financially, and energetically abusive. Our home is a toxic environment for all of us, and without help, I’m not going to be able to get out of it. Between 2020 and 2022, I gained a ton of weight (it peaked at about 480 lbs). I assumed that the reduction in physical activity was the cause, as I’d been working from home since the Covid-19 pandemic took over the world. I got to the point I couldn’t walk 10 steps without stopping to catch my breath. I ended up having to go get a chest x-ray before my doctor would prescribe me an inhaler. When I got to the doctors office, they, like usual, took my vitals. I was in A-fib and rushed to the ER, where they diagnosed an atrial flutter and shocked my heart back to a regular rhythm. Apparently it was the heart issue causing my breathing struggles. In 2022, I finally took a medical leave from my job and had the issue surgically corrected. When I returned from my approved medical leave, during which I even collected short-term disability, I was immediately fired for no-call-no-show absences that occurred during my leave. I was able to collect unemployment for a few months until I secured another job. I worked until July of 2023 and was fired again. I have not worked since. Though I could feel a noticeable difference in my body’s ability to distribute oxygen again after the procedure, the two years of sparse physical activity had done their damage, and I was still unable to move around very much. I also developed an issue with lower extremity edema around 2021 or so, which has yet to be resolved. I take fluid pills daily to keep the fluid from accumulating to the level that it impacts my heart, but my PCP hasn’t determined a cause for the issue, and I still struggle because of it. I’ve lost nearly 150 lbs, and can walk a couple blocks if the fluid in my legs and feet is minimal, but I still have a ways to go to reach ‘healthy’ status. In January of 2024, I earned my first eviction (it’s a very long story, but basically I couldn’t take care of the home due to my health and didn’t have the income on my own to cover the rent and bills). So, when he offered, I moved back in with my estranged husband, who’d just finally moved out the year prior, and got his own place next door, I accepted. I was apprehensive, yet I was grateful at the time because I wasn't physically able to maintain a home or care for my girls adequately on my own. I wish I could’ve foreseen how different the dynamic would be. Right away, he became very verbally abusive to me. Now his verbal abuse has spread to my daughters as well. Last summer, he hit me for the first time, and a handful of times since then. In November of last year, Annie and I stayed at the Domestic Violence shelter for a week. Regretfully, after Annie experienced a mental and emotional breakdown at the shelter, we returned ‘home’. If I had that choice to do over, that is one I would change. Over the past two and a half years, he has sabotaged my attempt to complete my business degree by “accidentally” destroying the computer on which I attended classes. He has sabotaged job interviews by changing his schedule to stay home and ranting in the background, or letting Annie stay home from school when he knew I had something scheduled. He has banned my two grown daughters from our home, and even had them legally trespassed. This is because they are supportive of me, and won’t bite their tongues when he spouts his vile insults and accusations. To be honest, I gave up trying for several months last year. Much of my days then were spent talking myself out of ending my own life. Not because I wanted to live, but because I wasn’t willing to leave my girls with him alone. I’m not on the lease here in our (HIS) current home, and since I was evicted in 2024 by the same property management company, I’m technically not even allowed to be here, which George uses to threaten me with regularly. Not only that, but I can’t submit maintenance requests, and he’s had bed bugs since he moved in here. He’s refused to notify property management, so we’ve been co-existing with bed bugs for several years. Finally, last summer, I bought an entire industrial bed bug killing kit and treated the house myself. Though it helped the situation, it didn’t fix it. I’m no pro exterminator, and the physical labor involved had me unable to walk for several days afterward. I was completely on my own, preparing and treating the entire three-story townhouse. My girls and our dog were at my daughter’s house with her. George was presumably at a flop house. Long story short, we’ve been living with bed bugs for several years. The bugs don’t bother George. They don’t bite him. They must not like crack and metabolized alcohol. They Love Annie and Zary (my grandson), though, and we shouldn’t have to live like this! My grandson is afraid to sleep here because they’ve bitten him so badly in the past. Annie doesn’t have a choice. I’ve considered reporting my own home to DHS on several occasions, but it would result in me being ejected from the home without my daughters. In addition to the bugs, the washing machine has been malfunctioning for about a year, and I’m the only person here who cares enough to get it to work, though it requires four trips up and down the stairs to complete one load. The banister along the basement stairway is broken, which makes it dangerous for me, but we need clean clothing and linens, so I make the treacherous trip frequently each day, when we have laundry soap, anyway. The kitchen faucet doesn’t work, so we have to use the sprayer. The refrigerator doesn’t have any door storage anymore. Over half of the kitchen cabinets don’t have doors, and there are NO drawers anymore at all… just holes where they should be. This dishwasher leaks too badly when it’s run, so it’s only used as my dish drying rack at this point. The electrical wiring is faulty, and the lights flicker in several places. The kitchen window is broken. The main floor toilet leaks from the bottom. There are no smoke detectors. George refuses to get anything fixed, despite it being the responsibility of the landlord, his right as a tenant, meaning it won’t be on his dime. He chooses unhappiness and lack. We don’t. We deserve better. We need out. We are subjected to verbal, mental, emotional, financial, and energetic abuse on a daily basis. Though the physical abuse hasn’t been severe and has only occurred a handful of times, it's not going to get better, and it’s not the greatest threat to my daughters. Delilah is in a dire condition with her mental health. I spent 3 of the weeknights last week holding her as she cried to me about not wanting to live anymore. Annie has also expressed similar sentiments, though it’s more an attempt at manipulation than a desperate desire not to live in hell anymore. She knows no other way of life. Delilah does. The only means of communication I have is my computer, which is not portable. My phone was broken about 6 months ago, and Delilah’s phone broke just before the end of the school year. Annie hasn’t had a tablet for about 4 months. So we have no phones, tablets, or other such devices. I use Facebook messenger and Google voice on my computer when I need to make calls. Now, on to my plea for help. I need to get my daughters and me out of George’s home. I need money to buy land and a trailer, or to rent a place for us in my own name, and to pay for it for a couple of months until I establish my own income to sustain it. I also need to buy a vehicle so that I can get my daughters around and, depending on the job I secure, get to and from there. I know I can get a job if I can get out of George’s house. I’m capable, and I’m employable. My credit has tanked over the last year, as my student loans went into default. It’s around 540 when I checked a week ago, though I had them consolidated last week, and requested an income driven repayment option to get them out of default. Once that’s processed my credit rating should start increasing. All funds donated will be used for the following: (a.) Food, household, and hygiene necessities that we are currently without. (b.) Phones with service for the girls and I (c.) Delilah’s Varsity Cheer equipment ($600 required to cover the remainder after the initial $263 downpayment I made last week). (d.) Housing expenses on a place in my own name: -Application fees, Deposit, Rent, and Utilities costs for a rental -a livable RV or trailer home -land (ideally either near either near my father (several states away) or within the boundaries of our current school district). (e.) a running vehicle of my own vehicle or Uber fare to get the girls and I where we need to go. My projected gross income within a couple of months of living in my own place and gainfully employed is $3800/mo. That’s based on a 40-hour work week at $20/hour, plus the SSI my girls receive. I just need help to get us a start on a life on my terms, and I can take it from there. I NEED to get us out of here and build a home for my girls that they deserve. A place of refuge, and comfort, and safety, and support. A home to heal in. They don’t even know what that looks or feels like. Instead of just telling them that it won’t always be this hard, I need to prove it. I need to show them what Love and family should look like. I need to give them a place to heal and restore, so that they can begin to create. A place where they can wake up to softness and hope in the mornings, instead of the eggshells cracking under our breath and the inevitable volatility that we are confronted with EVERY SINGLE morning in our current situation. My one-year plan After securing stable housing, building our home, landing a good job, and maintaining one on my own for a few months, I can then also begin implementing the detailed business plan I created two years ago, for my online retailer that sells high-quality and ethically sourced crystals, as well as other spiritual/holistic/metaphysical healing tools and supplies. My 5-8 year plan… I will secure ownership of a few acres of land near my Dad. This will be the home I dream of for my daughters and their children and grandchildren and all generations that follow. It will be a place they can all come home to. The place that my Grandma Mary’s (my mom’s mom) was for me until she had to let it go. I will resume my education at either SWIHA or MIU with a modified focus in holistic health and an end goal to become a Certified Integrated Health Practitioner. I’ll establish my Holistic Health Center practice/crystal shop in town. I’ll have a greenhouse and a garden at home. I’ll grow my own food and healing herbs. I’ll be healthy and strong, and be able to help people who are in need as I have been. I’ll be healed, and my work will be to help others heal. I’ll offer plots on my land for other people who want to live a similar lifestyle and need help just like myself at the moment. I'm grateful to anyone who has taken the time to read this, and appreciate anything you're able to give. If you can't monetarily contribute, even sharing this page helps so much. I can't share it on my social media because it will get back to George, and make things worse until we can leave.