Asking for a Little Help to Heal
My name is Jean. I’m 32 years old, and right now, I’m the only one standing between my mother and complete collapse.
After a lifetime of trauma, domestic violence, and emotional scars, it’s just the two of us now. The circumstances tore apart our family, as we were displaced like many others — left to survive with almost nothing. We now live in a temporary, unfurnished apartment in Antelias, trying to hold on to whatever dignity we have left. There are days the silence in this empty place feels louder than any bomb — it’s the silence of abandonment, grief, and exhaustion.
I work from home, doing admin work for a broker. I earn $300 a month — a blessing, but it barely keeps us afloat. Every penny goes to essentials — mostly medical, and working from home at the moment is the best option for me since I collapse in a time I do not expect.
Recently, my mom's health took a painful turn. She's on daily medications and has become increasingly frail. I’ve been trying to stay strong for her, but I finally went to a doctor myself. The results hit me hard: thyroid dysfunction, vitamin deficiencies, liver issues, and lung concerns. I’ve started medications and now need regular follow-ups. And beyond the physical, I’ve been quietly battling something deeper — panic attacks, chronic fear, and overwhelming sadness and depression. The doctor confirmed what I feared: signs of C-PTSD and chronic anxiety. I need psychotherapy, and soon.
Here’s the honest breakdown of what we need to survive and heal:
Medications (for both of us): $50 every two months → $300/year
Doctor consultations (shared visits): $50 every two months → $300/year
Psychiatric sessions for me: 10 sessions at $70 each → $700
Routine blood tests & ultrasounds (every 3 months): $110 each → $880/year
Monthly dietitian visits: $40/month → $480/year
Instead of putting us on even more medications — which would mean more side effects, more testing, and higher costs — our doctor recommended we see a dietitian who can help manage our conditions through proper food and affordable nutrition. This is not an extra or a privilege. This is a way to prevent more damage — physically and financially.
It’s a complex and painful situation. We walk 25 minutes each way to the clinic just to save on transportation and keep it for bills. We do everything we can to keep going with dignity, but we are running on empty.
And the truth is… this fundraiser is only for our basic medical and psychological needs. Nothing more.
I do have dreams. I always did. I dreamed of living with dignity — not wealth — just dignity, without debts, without fear of tomorrow. I dreamed of growing in my field and eventually opening a small office for my insurance work. But I threw those dreams away just to survive. I buried hope under survival.
This campaign is coming from someone who never wanted to ask for help — someone who hit a deep, dark place mentally. A depression that took me to dangerous thoughts. That’s when I realized I couldn’t carry this alone anymore.
I have contacted countless organizations. I’ve begged, filled out forms, waited for callbacks that never came. Most aid in Lebanon is reserved for refugees — and while I understand that need, it leaves people like me and my mother invisible. Religious institutions turned us away. Political figures ignored us. We are not "connected." We are just two survivors trying to keep each other alive. I was turned away over and over. And while I understand others are in need too, it left us invisible. And I lost hope in all political, religious and other organizations.
So here I am. With all my fear, and all my shame gone. Asking for help. Not because I gave up — but because I still want to fight for my mother and myself.
I know Lebanon is full of families in crisis. I know others are suffering deeply too. But if you find it in your heart to help us — even a little — it would be a lifeline.
Please help us breathe again. To sleep without fear. To heal.
Your donation, your share, your words — they are not just support. They are survival.
With all my heart,
Jean & Mom
