Melissa's Fight For Mental Health and Maggie's Future

I am Melissa, a single mother of an intelligent and witty 11 year old girl, Maggie.

I am also a Paralegal, a Buddhist, a Survivor, and a woman struggling with grief, loss, substance abuse, and mental health.

Rather than outline the sob story from Day 1, let's jump forward to 2017, after the passing of Michael, Maggie's Father. I was working as a Paralegal for a Business Law firm in Irvine, California.

After Michael had passed, it became apparent that we needed a change. The City was more than I could bear, the traffic took away from the precious time I wanted with my child. During this same time, on my way home from work, after picking up my daughter, I made routine trips to help out my folks in Anaheim, the next city over from where we lived in Fullerton. My father, Pop Pop Jerry, and Grandmother, Gr’ma Betty, needed some help with the little things from time to time.

Gr’ma Betty had a love for redecorating and was often caught red handed, atop a chair attempting to extend all 5 feet of herself to hang the newest curtains (despite repeated and regular reprimand). Pop Pop Jerry was usually found outside, on the porch, watching cops or the news. When I walked up, he’d update me on the latest events. Tell me of how “Gr’ma’s in there blowin’ it again,” or how “This idiot was caught” doing something or other around some familiar area we knew. Little did I know at the time, this would be one of my fondest memories of this era of my life, laughing with my dad on that porch.

Sure enough, the day came that Gr’ma Betty took a dive and landed in the hospital for a broken hip. My father’s health was failing, rapidly. They both needed more care than what they admitted and this made it all abundantly clear. I prepared what was left of the family to be relocated. Gr’ma was moved to a skilled nursing facility/assisted living and Pop Pop Jerry was set up in an apartment. Both at the base of the mountain, in Hemet, below Idyllwild, where Maggie and I moved to.

In 2018, Michael’s mother died. She was the bright light in every life she touched. The day I learned of this I packed the kiddo and the dog and took a road trip up the coast to process another tremendous loss with Maggie. While on the road, Gr’ma Betty took another fall. This time shattering her elbow. It was abundantly clear that assisted living did not suit her. I moved her up the mountain to be with Maggie and I. Unfortunately and regretfully, Pop Pop Jerry’s health would not allow him to live with us due to the elevation and his worsening respiratory condition.

I cared for the family as best I could. Frequent medical appointments taking us all over Riverside County, for my folks, and for my daughter who developed what we later learned was an autoimmune disorder, Juvenal Rheumatoid Arthritis.

In January 2019, Pop Pop Jerry passed. That loss took me to my knees. I began heavily drinking while still caring for Gr’ma and Maggie. In November 2019, I was forced to relocate Gr’ma Betty for her to have a higher level of care. 3 days later, she too was gone.

My drinking worsened. I was still functioning but not well. I turned to drugs to help maintain the day to day activities. I never dealt with the loss of my family. I just kept us alive and our heads above water.

I returned to Fullerton and attempted to rebuild a fractured, frail, and dysfunctional relationship with my mother. She was in the thralls of active addiction, herself. My life continued to circle the drain.

Over the next several years, I gave it my all to keep up appearances for the sake of my child. I managed to keep her in a good school, clean and dressed appropriately, I worked and at times thrived in my career. I kept us together with our pets, Foxie and Studio. Behind the scene, I was a train wreck of bad, often criminal, behavior. The best I could boost was that Maggie got to school, I picked her up, and was usually there for the afternoon through bedtime, having her basic needs met.

For the sake of time and to spare readers the unnecessary details of my self-destruction, I have been in treatment for my PTSD, anxiety, ADHD, and grief and loss, while addressing my substance abuse. I began treatment at an outpatient level of care in December 2023. It was deemed necessary by my inability to stay sober to up my level of care in inpatient in February 2024.

In an effort to anticipate my need for additional care, and the inability to afford my health insurance to continue treatment while I am not working, I am reaching out for help to cover the cost of insurance, co-pays, prescriptions, and the cost of food for another 60 days here at this program and 1 month at a transitional home until I can regain employment.

My daughter is with a 20+ year family friend, it is my goal to stabilize myself prior to uprooting her again. As much as it pains me to admit, I cannot do this on my own.