Loss is not a new concept to me. During my life, I have experienced the loss of both my parents, each in a different way, and many other essential things that accompanied those losses. While the first loss I experienced at 8 was heartbreaking, gut-wrenching, and earth-shattering, through the repeated losses, I have learned how to cope and not let them define me. Here is my story. In 2008, when I was eight and my sister was six, my father unexpectedly committed suicide. My mother became a single mother raising two children overnight. I was so young at the time that I did not understand the finality of death. Only when I realized he was not coming back did I begin to slowly grieve my father’s death. My mother slowly began abusing drugs with Marijuana and sleeping pills at first. For a while, nothing changed and my sister and I were oblivious to our mother’s problem. However, she switched to meth when I was around fifteen, and things started rapidly declining. I tried reaching out to child protective services one day at school after watching my mother use the night prior. She took a urine test the next day but somehow had smuggled my grandfather’s clean urine in and used his. Since “her '' urine was clean, she was able to gaslight the social worker into believing I was just an unruly teenager upset with authority and my accusations were all fabricated. The case was closed, and I was scared to reach out again. This made me feel unseen and stuck in an unsafe situation but also made me question if my situation was actually bad since it seemed as though I did not deserve help. Her actions and emotions became erratic, and our home erupted into chaos. Multiple random drug users would stay at our house and would use in front of us. Domestic violence was a nightly occurrence between my mother and her boyfriend. This is when the mind games began. Every night when they were fighting, my mother would be crying for my sister and me to call the cops, so we did. When the cops showed up, she would retract and state everything was good to the officers while also getting upset with us for bringing law enforcement to our home, where it was a miracle she was not arrested for the copious amounts of drugs and drug paraphernalia. After the first couple of times, my sister and I would reluctantly ignore our mother’s pleas because she did not actually want the help. But when we did not call, she would get angry at us. Sometimes, my sister and I would try to help break up the fights, but that only ended with one of us getting hit by a grown man. My mother was spending all of her money on drugs, and the bills started not getting paid, including the electricity, food, and wifi. I know wifi does not sound essential, but in the modern education system, a lot of assignments require it, making it difficult for us to navigate school. Our mother no longer cared about the cleanliness or tolerability of our house. My sister and I’s things began disappearing because my mother and her friends were selling them for drugs. I got a job when I turned sixteen to buy things I needed, such as field trips and a phone with hotspot capability so I could complete my online assignments at home. My mother began asking me for money to keep her out of jail and for rent. One day, after I got home from work and was seventeen, my mother kicked me out unexpectedly in a drug-induced rage. Six months later, CPS finally noticed my mother’s drug problem and gave me full custody of my sister—I was eighteen and struggling to stay out of homelessness myself. Five years later, as I write this, I am happy to report that despite those losses, I am finding my way to a happy and stable life—which I never thought would be feasible given my circumstances. I will graduate from college in December with my BSW and MSW in May 2026. My sister still lives with me and is beginning to decide on her career and college path. My achievements would not have been possible without those who cared about me helping me. By navigating those losses, I could focus on what and who is important to me—my sister, my education, the family I have made on my journey, and stability. Since I was eight, I have been fighting “tooth and nail” for those things ripped away from me, and I am determined to get them back.