Rooting for Robyn

A horrifying childhood marked by abandonment and abuse at the hands of the very people who were supposed to love, guide, and protect her shaped Robyn’s life from the beginning. Raised by two emotionally absent parents while also feeling responsible for her two younger sisters, she was forced to grow up far too soon. She was ripped away from the comfort of her hometown, her friends, and her school. The trauma she carried and her desperate unmet need for love, safety, and support began showing itself in painful ways. She lashed out, struggled in school, failed classes, and by high school, became the target of relentless bullying. Searching for somewhere to belong and some sense of self-worth, she gravitated toward the other lost kids — the misfits, the ones who also came from unstable homes and painful upbringings. Around the same time, her parents divorced. Her father battled addiction while her mother emotionally withdrew, leaving Robyn drowning in guilt and shame as the family home went into foreclosure. Her mother remarried and moved into a new home without her. At only 18 years old, Robyn was left alone in an empty house that used to be her home. From that moment on, her life became a desperate search for love, safety, and belonging. She found abusive relationships, dangerous situations, drugs, alcohol, theft, and instability. She moved cities. She tried doctors, programs, religion, spirituality — anything that might fill the emptiness inside of her. Nothing did. Until she became a mother. With her childhood best friend — someone she had known since the age of ten — she welcomed her daughter, Kaylee, into the world. Everything changed the moment she found out she was pregnant. Robyn became sober and determined to build the life her daughter deserved. She swore her child would never endure the pain she had survived. For the first time in her life, she found hope. Through Narcotics Anonymous, she found a family — the same community that had once helped her own father achieve sobriety. Healthier and happier, she finally caught a glimpse of something she had never truly felt before: “I made it.” Every hardship suddenly felt survivable because she had her daughter. But that peace didn’t last. Her boyfriend became violently abusive, eventually hospitalizing her with severe injuries. Realizing she would have to raise her daughter alone, Robyn entered survival mode once again. Pregnant and homeless, she fought to keep going. She entered a family shelter. Her father helped her buy a car, which eventually became her home. Later, she found temporary housing through COTS and eventually rented a room with a friend in Northern California. Then, once life finally became quiet enough for her nervous system to stop surviving, the weight of her unresolved trauma came crashing down. On March 21, 2017, Robyn attempted to take her own life while struggling with severe alcoholism. Her liver failed, and she went three days without medical attention before finally being rushed to UCSF Medical Center, where she was later admitted for psychiatric stabilization. When she returned home, she moved in with her mother, who had gained guardianship of her daughter. And still, somehow, Robyn fought her way back again. She enrolled in college at the JC, worked toward restoring her license, and graduated from adult school wearing a cap and gown with pride. Once again, she rebuilt herself from the ashes. Then life collapsed again. Robyn became homeless for a second time — this time truly on the streets, with nothing but the clothes on her back and the belongings in her purse. Through it all, her only concern was her daughter. For weeks and months, she stayed nearby so she could still see her every day. Some of Robyn’s most painful memories are hearing her daughter scream and beg her not to leave whenever she had to walk away. But she had nowhere to take her. As shelter became harder to find, Robyn had to travel farther and farther just to survive. Daily visits became weekends. Weekends became a few times a month. Then her daughter began calling her grandmother “Mom.” And Robyn’s mother allowed it. Slowly, piece by piece, Robyn felt motherhood being taken from her — the one thing that had ever truly given her life meaning. Today, Robyn continues to battle overwhelming physical and mental health challenges. She was diagnosed later in life with autism and suffers from severe CPTSD, OCD, anxiety, polycystic kidney disease, POTS, blindness in her right eye due to retinal detachment, pancreatitis, and she has survived stage 2 ovarian cancer. She has also endured three heart attacks. And despite all of it, she remains one of the most selfless people I have ever known. Robyn still believes there is good in people. Many call her naïve, but I think she is simply gentle in a world that has been unbearably cruel to her. She does not believe in violence. She finds reasons to forgive even the people who hurt her most. She can find humanity in almost anyone. She is the person who makes strangers feel seen. She holds doors open. She helps elderly people carry groceries. She makes personalized birthday cards. She donates to people in need despite having almost nothing herself. She returns lost wallets with a kind note inside. She stands up to bullies. She gives endlessly, even when she has nothing left to give. She is intelligent, deeply empathetic, artistic, resourceful, and incredibly thoughtful. She chose to study psychology to better understand the pain she survived and why people hurt each other the way they do. But the tragedy is this: Robyn has spent her entire life giving others the love, support, compassion, and protection she herself has never truly received. She is currently sober and living in a low-income housing program through Catholic Charities a few towns away from her daughter. She has a housing voucher that could finally allow her to move into a stable apartment of her own, but without help covering security deposits, transportation, medical care, and basic necessities, she remains trapped. She is severely unwell physically and mentally. She cannot reliably get groceries. Public transportation often makes her sick due to her health conditions. She cannot lift more than five pounds because of her heart issues. She has multiple specialists she cannot reach and surgeries currently on hold. Depression and trauma make daily tasks like showering and cleaning feel impossible some days. Yet even now, she keeps trying. What hurts the most is watching her slowly believe the lie that her daughter is better off without her. The light that once came alive in her when she became a mother is fading again. And still, she remains grateful. Still kind. Still giving. Still trying to love a world that has rarely loved her back. There is so much more to Robyn than even this story can explain. She has saved lives, comforted people through unimaginable pain, fought for others, protected vulnerable people, and carried burdens that were never hers to carry. I truly believe the world needs more people like her in it. I am asking for help not because Robyn is weak, but because she has spent her entire life surviving without ever being properly supported herself. She deserves safety. She deserves stability. She deserves a chance to heal. Anything helps. And if you know Robyn, you already know she would probably try to give something back to you anyway.