No one anticipates finding themselves homeless and pregnant. It’s a situation no one desires for themselves or their children. Yet, there I was, just a week after an emergency C-section, pleading with the local court to prevent my landlord from evicting me. My roommate, who had relapsed after a year of sobriety, failed to pay rent that month. I managed to cover his share, but the landlord refused to accept it, determined to sell the house instead.
At that time, I was oblivious to my rights and felt utterly trapped and frightened. I remember sitting on my couch, the pain of my surgery dulled by medication, while I numbly gazed at the wall. Next to me, my little miracle slept peacefully in her Pack ‘n Play. Just then, my partner entered the room.
“Olivia, I don’t know what to do. We have nowhere to go. Should we consider living with your parents?” he suggested, oblivious to the reality that my parents wouldn’t welcome him into their home. Splitting up our family felt like a looming possibility, and even then, my daughter and I could end up in a shelter.
What ultimately pulled me out of that dark place was a referral from the Washington State Department of Social and Health Services to Courage 360, previously known as Washington Women’s Employment, where I enrolled in the ReachPLUS job training program. Courage 360 is a nonprofit that assists individuals like me in difficult situations, helping us gain the skills and confidence needed to rise above our circumstances.
The educators there were genuinely compassionate, providing more than just an education; they instilled self-love and encouraged us to discard negative self-talk. My classmates, like me, were mothers facing homelessness. Courage 360 offered us clothing and food when needed, and even facilitated job placements through their WorkFirst program. It was during this period that I found a fulfilling job aligned with my passions.
Many family members and caseworkers doubted my potential, urging me to abandon my dreams and dismissing my years of experience in public relations. However, Courage 360 was a steadfast supporter, encouraging me to remain confident and persist. Because of their unwavering belief in me, I found the strength to stop being numb. Looking back at that day spent staring at the wall, I shiver—wondering what might have happened had I given in to despair.
Fast forward a year, and my life has transformed dramatically. I now have a stable career that I cherish and secure housing, surrounded by loved ones. However, it broke my heart to learn just this week that Courage 360 has closed its doors. It feels profoundly wrong to have benefited from their support while they struggled to keep their mission alive, helping countless individuals write their own success stories. Why didn’t more people rally to support them? I find myself frustrated and angry.
In stark contrast, a local pet rescue nearby has garnered significant attention and support, thanks to their heartwarming videos showcasing their efforts to save homeless animals. While I wholeheartedly believe in the importance of caring for pets, it feels like society prioritizes certain causes over others. Courage 360 saved my life and my daughter’s life, along with many others. It’s disheartening to see that so many families could have benefited from their services.
I wish I could have done more to help them thrive. We need more nonprofits willing to extend a helping hand to those whose struggles often go unseen. But they can’t survive without community support.
Today, I grieve for this nonprofit that profoundly impacted my life and for the other organizations grappling to stay afloat while striving to uplift those in need. I hope they understand that their efforts matter and that their work, despite the lack of adequate support, has made a significant difference.
In summary, my journey from a place of despair to one of stability was made possible by Courage 360, which has now closed. This heartbreaking loss highlights the need for community support for nonprofits that change lives.