Support Esther and Eliezer Through This Health Crisis

This GoFundMe is for covering medical expenses and my mom and dad's cost of living until they can get back on their feet.

At this point of writing, I've been informed that we've exhausted all of our options. The medical bills are getting too high, my mom's progress too slow, my family can barely afford to live, and my dad's own health and ability to be okay while juggling it all is at risk.

Please know that if you cannot give, that your thoughts and prayers are greatly appreciated. Deteriorating mental health in a family member is a socially interesting thing to experience– Not a lot of people want to talk about it. Many people actually avoid you after opening up about this. It's a very lonely thing to walk through.

But hopefully with you, it'll feel less lonely. Hopefully with you, things may seem a little more okay than they currently are.

-Stephanie

OUR STORY:

In 2000, my family left everything they had ever known for a country where their daughters could have futures and dreams. This is commonly known as the American Dream.

For years they toiled. They cleaned houses, and being an immigrant kid in the 2000s with parents that cleaned classmates' toilets is not an experience I'd wish upon anyone.

Over the course of this time period, my dad began picking up photography again. When my parents were younger, they used to run a business together. So then the brilliant idea came: Let's start a photography business. Together.

So they did, over a decade after moving to the US. Progress was slow at first. Over time, they began to clean less houses. There were some blips in the road. There were times where it felt like it wouldn't work at all.

And then in 2015/16, the business boomed. Their dream finally happened. The two of them, my parents, working together. As a team. Like they always have. And they loved it.

Last summer, everything came crashing down. Seemingly overnight, my mother had a psychotic break down. This had never happened before. Leading up to this point, she hadn't been sleeping. But none of us thought anything of it. Until that night in June.

Since 2022, I have been living across the country in Portland. I had been working almost full time with my parents business, as a photo editor and occasional English-corrector when it came to my mom writing emails to clients. Classic immigrant kid experience: Being sent texts in English and parents asking if it was correct. Me, copying the text and correcting and sending it back, no matter where I was: Out with friends, half-asleep in bed, or on a day trip.

But that night, I felt a tingle go down my spine. Something was so, so terribly wrong. The next day, I hopped on a plane.

When I arrived, I found my mom in a manic state. I had seen similar behavior before in my extended family. After speaking to trusted friends in the medical field, three hours after I landed, we were on the way to take my mom to the ER for a wellness check.

The doctor prescribed Zoloft and Lorazepam. That's it. And it didn't help.

I stayed for three weeks, watching my mom's health inexplicably deteriorate. We tried finding a psychiatrist– They're booked out for weeks. I began to take over my mom's tasks at their photography business. We purchased a work phone for me. I reshuffled a bit of their client communication & booking– my mom's main role at the business –so that I could do it from afar if needed. I would take a pay cut. I would do anything for my family.

I was fearing the worst.

Eventually, I had to return home. She seemed to do a little bit better. But not much.

Two weeks later, my mom is hearing voices. She is seeing things. She is screaming that AI is out to get her– she saw it on Facebook. She is claiming things that do not exist. Thankfully she had her appointment with the psychiatrist coming up, and they started her on anti-psychotics.

But then two days later, she physically attacked my dad. We're advised to take her to the ER and for her to be placed involuntarily in psychiatric care.

My dad and sister didn't know what to do, their hands were tied. And then they watched, as my mother herself, had her hands tied and taken away to inpatient.

It was devastating. But one silver lining: My dad could finally focus on his business. He finally had rest. He hadn't had any sleep, being on alert and worrying my mother would wander out of the house. Or attack him in his sleep.

She stays in inpatient for 20 days. They didn't know what was wrong. Reports after reports, they said she was manic. They'd sedate her. Back and forth, over and over.

She calls me from the hospital. She interrogates me– she doesn't believe I am her daughter. After minutes of agonizing questions pertaining family trips and personal information, she decides I am in fact her daughter and haven't been replaced by an AI clone.

I cry the entire time.

Eventually she's released– She opts to go home. When someone is 302'd and kept longer, there's only so long the hospital can keep someone against their own will.

So for 35 days, she's home. She's unable to work. My dad is on watch again. She's going to doctors appointments but still, there's no answers. Working a business at the same time while taking care of your suddenly ill wife proves nearly impossible.

But the business is all they have. Everything they've built in this country, this name they've made for themselves: It all rests on this business. Without it, they have nothing.

My mom goes back to inpatient. Her behavior is erratic again. We receive advice that she possibly was never well enough to leave inpatient in the first place. It's almost a relief when she goes back. So much so, that we as a family feel ashamed of this feeling.

But finally, we can rest again. We can work without juggling over who will watch my mom. I can breathe, from afar, without having phone calls with my dad where my mom is physically jumping him or punching couch pillows and speaking gibberish.

After 34 whole days back in inpatient, the doctors say there isn't anything else they can do. They can't fully diagnose her. Again, they don't know what's wrong. All they know, is that something is so, so terribly wrong.

To this day, we still don't know. But we've watched her health disintegrate further. We've watched the mother we know disappear. I saw, over FaceTime on Christmas Day, a mother who blankly stared back at me and could barely lift her hand to wave. Her eyes are blank. I weep for days.

My therapist tells me that I'm grieving. My mother is still alive, but I'm grieving what she once was. We all are.

At this point, since July, I've taken on my mom's full time job. The business is struggling. My mom was once the heartbeat behind the business, and now she's gone. We can't juggle editing, marketing, booking, taking photos– Her presence is greatly missed. We're all taking on more than we should, and my dad is also taking care of his ill wife.

In December, I'm told that with the bills and the business not having done as well this year, that I am no longer able to be paid. Selfishly, I am devastated. But I know, that I still need to work for them. Who can do this job? Who can correct English for them? Who can understand when they speak a jumble of Portuguese and English in our work meetings? Who can do the jobs I've been doing on the ground and behind the scenes for nearly my entire life?

Eventually and thankfully, I get another job. It came down to the wire, right before I'd receive my very last payment. So I do two jobs at once! I'm still trying to be an author! Life really, really sucks! But in the grand scheme of things, with my mom's health... It didn't really matter.

At this point of writing, I've been informed that we've exhausted all of our options. The medical bills are getting too high, my mom's progress too slow, my family can barely afford to live, and my dad's own health and ability to be okay while juggling it all is at risk.

The last time I did a GoFundMe, I was in college and my dad had cataracts. You guys gave him his sight back. He was able to see me on my wedding day, and walk me down the aisle.

Today, I am coming to you as a last resort. This GoFundMe is for covering medical expenses and my mom and dad's cost of living until they can get back on their feet.

But with our crucial missing piece in the business (my mom), it's going to be difficult. It may not be possible. We may need to sell everything. And my dear readers, if that happens, that happens.

All I'm asking is for funds to survive until then. All I'm asking is for my parents to try once more to save their business. Their home. Their dreams.

Please know that if you cannot give, that your thoughts and prayers are greatly appreciated. Deteriorating mental health in a family member is a socially interesting thing to experience– Not a lot of people want to talk about it. Many people actually avoid you after opening up about this. It's a very lonely thing to walk through.

But hopefully with you, it'll feel less lonely. Hopefully with you, things may seem a little more okay than they currently are.

-Stephanie