u/New-Apple6127

Please lmk what you would do I’m stuck.

I spent months trying to save the people around me. In the end, I was the one trying to save my family.
I’ve rewritten this post about a dozen times because I honestly don’t know how to explain everything that happened without it sounding unreal.
I’m changing everyone’s names because I don’t want to put anyone’s personal information on Reddit. I’ll call my mom “Sarah” and another person “Kyle.”
I’m also not posting this expecting everyone to automatically take my side. I know there are always two sides to a story. I have screenshots, messages, payment records, pictures, and other documentation, and I’m willing to show what I can while protecting everyone’s private information.
I just want people to understand how we got here.
Because this wasn’t one argument.
It wasn’t one bad night.
It was months of me putting my own money, time, work, belongings, and trust into helping other people — until there was almost nothing left for my own family.
It started with my mom.
My mom was struggling to keep her house.
So I did what I thought a son was supposed to do.
I helped her.
I gave her money. I helped with expenses. I worked on the house. I repaired things. I put my own time and labor into keeping the place together.
I wasn’t just handing over money and walking away.
I was actually working on the house and helping repair it myself.
Over roughly six months, I ended up giving her close to $15,000, and when everything is completely added up, the amount may be even higher.
I did all of this because she was my mom.
I wasn’t expecting to get rich.
I wasn’t keeping score.
I genuinely believed I was helping my family.
I did the same thing for someone else.
Another person, who I’ll call Kyle, was in danger of losing his car.
I helped him too.
I even gave him a place to stay because I didn’t want to see someone I knew end up without transportation or somewhere to sleep.
I trusted him.
Eventually, I found myself out approximately $1,300, along with a bunch of my belongings.
Looking back, I can see that I kept putting other people’s problems ahead of my own.
But I kept doing it because I thought helping people was the right thing to do.
Meanwhile, I had my own family to protect.
I have a young daughter.
My girlfriend was pregnant at the time.
We knew our living situation wasn’t where we wanted it to be, so we were already looking and applying for other places to live.
That detail is important because we weren’t blindly staying somewhere and waiting for something to happen.
We were actively trying to find a safer and more stable place for our family.
We were trying to move forward.
Then everything came crashing down.

The day everything changed
It was around 4:15 PM when I asked my mom if I could use her car to go pick up a title.
That’s what started the argument.
It turned into a fight about tools.
I’d reached the point where I was frustrated with constantly helping while feeling like I was being treated like I didn’t matter.
I told her I didn’t want her asking me for anything else if I was going to keep being treated that way.
The argument escalated.
She started pushing me around inside the room I was paying rent for.
I tried to record what was happening with my phone.
She tried to take my phone away from me.
At that point, I told my girlfriend to call the police.
I wasn’t trying to fight my mom.
I wasn’t trying to make things worse.
I wanted someone there because I didn’t feel safe, and I wanted what was happening documented.
Once the police were being called, the physical part stopped.
But that didn’t mean it was over.

Then everything started coming apart.
My room was already packed with our belongings because we were trying to figure out where we were going to move.
Then things started being thrown around.
Our belongings were being moved and thrown around in the room.
There was an argument involving my daughter’s toys, and something that should have been a simple parenting issue turned into the entire house getting involved.
Then I was told to take the food out of the refrigerator.
A refrigerator I had paid for.
I had paid for the food too.
Other people in the house had their own mini-fridges, but suddenly I was being told what I could and couldn’t keep in something I had purchased.
At that point, I realized this was much bigger than an argument.
We were being pushed out.

And then we were actually put out.
We had paid our rent.
We were already looking for another home because of our daughter and the baby on the way.
But we were not given the time we needed to make that transition.
There was no 30-day notice.
There wasn’t a proper opportunity to finish securing another place, pack our belongings, move our things, and make sure our children were taken care of.
We were simply forced out.
Afterward, I researched the Colorado requirements and began seriously considering legal action because I believe the way we were removed was unlawful.
But knowing you may have legal options doesn’t immediately solve the problem of having a pregnant girlfriend and a young child who need somewhere safe to sleep.
That’s what made this so terrifying.

And then I started realizing just how much we’d lost.
This wasn’t just losing a place to stay.
I lost a refrigerator I had paid for.
I lost personal belongings.
I lost parts I had bought for my other motorcycles.
And I lost a motorcycle that I had spent countless hours almost completely rebuilding.
That bike wasn’t just sitting there collecting dust.
I had put money into it.
I had put hours into it.
I had put my own hands on nearly every part of that project.
I was almost finished.
Then there were my tools.
At least $1,500 worth, and I’m still trying to figure out the full amount.
And those tools hurt especially badly because they’re not just possessions.
They’re how I work.
They’re how I fix motorcycles.
They’re how I fix vehicles.
They’re how I make money.
So losing them made it harder to replace everything else I had lost.

The hardest part isn’t even the money.
It’s the fact that I was doing all of this because I thought I was helping people I loved.
I helped my mom keep her house.
I repaired that house.
I put money into it.
I put my labor into it.
I helped Kyle when he was about to lose his car.
I gave Kyle somewhere to stay.
I gave people money when they needed it.
I gave people things I owned.
And over the course of about six months, I put nearly $15,000 into helping my mom and keeping everything together.
Yet when my own family needed stability, we were the ones who ended up with nowhere to go.
That’s the part I still struggle with.
I could understand losing money.
I could understand losing a motorcycle.
I could eventually replace tools.
But realizing that I spent so much time trying to make sure everyone else was okay, while my own daughter and pregnant girlfriend were suddenly in danger of losing their stability…
That broke something in me.

I’m not posting this because I want revenge.
I don’t want Reddit to attack my mother.
I don’t want anyone harassing Kyle.
I don’t want strangers showing up anywhere.
That’s not what this is about.
I’m trying to figure out how to rebuild our lives.
I’m trying to find stable housing.
I’m trying to protect my daughter.
I’m trying to support my girlfriend.
I’m trying to figure out what legal options I have.
I’m trying to recover the belongings that were taken or left behind.
I’m trying to replace the tools I need to work.
And I’m trying to figure out what happens to the motorcycle I spent so much time rebuilding.
I have documentation because I knew I needed to keep records.
I have payment history.
I have messages.
I have photographs.
I have screenshots.
I’m not asking people to believe me just because I wrote a convincing story.
I’m showing you the story because this actually happened to us.

Maybe the hardest lesson I’ve learned is that helping people doesn’t mean they’ll help you when you need it.
I spent months being the person people called when they needed something.
Need help keeping your house?
I’ll help.
Need help with your car?
I’ll help.
Need somewhere to stay?
I’ll make room.
Need something repaired?
I’ll work on it.
Need money?
I’ll figure something out.
I kept saying yes.
And eventually, I had to look at my own family and realize:
Who’s going to help us?
That’s the question I’m still trying to answer.
I’m not asking someone to magically fix everything.
I’m trying to find enough of a foothold to start rebuilding.
A stable place for my family.
The ability to work again.
The tools I need to work.
The ability to replace what we lost.
And some sense of normal life for my daughter.
I’ve spent a long time helping other people climb out of holes.
Now I’m standing in one myself.
But I’m still here.
I’m still working.
I’m still trying.
And I’m still fighting for my family.
I lost a lot of things through all of this.
But I refuse to lose the people I’m doing all of this for.
My daughter deserves stability.
My girlfriend deserves to feel safe.
And my family deserves the chance to start over.
So that’s what I’m going to do.
I’m going to rebuild.
One piece at a time.
Just like I was rebuilding that motorcycle.
Except this time, I’m rebuilding my life