Homeless in America

Facebook Post on Oct 2, 2025:

HOMELESS IN AMERICA 

A few days ago, I announced a fundraiser for a shower bus for the homeless in the San Francisco Bay Area. Some of you donated, and I am so thankful.

I did it out of obedience to what I believed was God’s voice within me (I still do) and because I have compassion for the homeless.

I have compassion because I know what it’s like.

I don’t sit on my couch and theorize about homelessness — what causes it, what prevents it, or what guarantees it will “never happen to me.”

I don’t have that luxury because I lived it.

I’m STILL living it.

But wait. How is it possible in the United States of America that I still fear homelessness when I work harder and longer days than anyone I personally know?

This isn’t bragging — it’s my honest opinion. Everyone I know knows that I work all the time.

But wait. Doesn’t honest, hard work prevent homelessness in America? Isn’t that the equation?

Follow along on my journey:

2016–2017: THE COLLAPSE AND ESCAPE

In 2016, while legally separated but still in the marital home, I was working as an instructional aide in an autism class when I suffered a PERMANENT WRIST INJURY. My aide’s job required lifting up to 50 lbs — but I couldn’t do it anymore. Both my body and the doctor said I was done, and my job didn’t allow me to work with a wrist injury.

With no job, no money, chronic pain (wrist pain and, more importantly, lower back pain so bad I thought I’d be permanently disabled), and no family here in the U.S. (my only family was my two dependent sons), I was staring homelessness in the face.

In 2017, I made one of the hardest decisions of my life. I left my two sons with my husband in our family home and became homeless myself. I had to escape our family home in an attempt to create a safe home elsewhere. I knew it was the only way out. It was like jumping off a cliff and hoping God would catch me. (He did.)

I told my sons I’d be back for them. If you’re a mother, you know how much that will rip you into pieces.

I couch-surfed for about a month and a half at a friend’s house in Vallejo, but I quickly knew it was only for the short term. I soon needed to leave.

During this time, I was also in school finishing my bachelor’s degree (which I completed in December 2017). But I had no job yet, and nothing to live on.

My husband? He was making $186,000 a year. I know this for a fact because I audited his bank accounts and presented the evidence to the family court. The court ordered him to pay me $5,000/MONTH SPOUSAL SUPPORT. He refused. I never saw a penny of it. He just walked away, hid our mutual assets, drained all our bank accounts, defied orders, claimed to be penniless, and left me with nothing.

2017–2018: SURVIVING WITH CREDIT CARDS

To survive, I turned to credit cards. I managed to take out about $50,000 in cash. After I left my friend’s house, I used that money to rent a home in Vallejo for my sons and me. I also used the money to pay for food, gas, and any other basics of living. But I also knew I couldn’t keep it up for long. My money was running out quickly, especially since I didn’t have a job.

Also, what job could I get? My body was in pain every day — my right wrist, and especially my lower back, was so bad that if I stood for longer than 5–10 minutes, I would collapse in pain.

What job could I possibly have that didn’t require me to stand that I could actually live on?

I also didn’t have any other official job experience in this country beyond my year-and-a-half experience as an aide in Special Education. I wasn’t young anymore. I looked for a solution but couldn’t find any. I spent weeks at the employment office in despair. They never found a job for me.

Disability in America is another common cause for homelessness, especially if you don’t have family to live with. That was me.

From 2015 to 2018, I woke up every single morning in a cold sweat. My heart would pound with fear the minute I opened my eyes and remembered where I was.

That’s how I lived for those four years — paralyzed in fear.

2018: GOD MADE A WAY

Then, something shifted.

I received a $59,000 settlement for my wrist injury.

I proved in Family Court that my husband had secretly sold $66,000 in bitcoins while claiming to have no money. The court forced him to give me half — $33,000.

With that money, I bought the most perfect little mobile home in Vallejo for $89,000. It was a miracle to find it. My mom, who happened to visit from Finland at the time, with the help of my uncle in Finland, helped me qualify for the mobile home park by paying a deposit to cover my space rent for a year.

That mobile home saved my sons and me. It gave us a roof over our heads and was the only source of stability I’ve ever known in this country. It gave us a chance.

In 2019, I started working as a substitute teacher. I also began receiving child support (only because Child Support Services took it directly out of my husband’s Social Security — he never paid it himself).

Later, I went back to school to earn a teaching credential. While working full-time as a teacher, I simultaneously studied and earned my credential in elementary education. These stable circumstances had a direct positive impact on my health. Slowly, my body began to heal.

With my steady job and affordable space rent, we now had a home in the notoriously expensive SF Bay Area. We had a life.

Even my former lawyer said I had done the impossible.

2021: BANKRUPTCY

But the $50,000 credit card debt I had taken on in 2017 to survive caught up to me.

I wasn’t able to keep up with the monthly bills. In 2021, I was forced to file for BANKRUPTCY.

Not because I had been careless with money. Not because I “loved shopping.” But because I had tried to survive and was left with no other option.

My husband had hidden our assets and left me carrying debt.

I filed to cover about $14,600 in student loans and $30,000 in credit card debt. A fraction of my husband’s yearly income.

After I realized that my husband wouldn’t cooperate with dividing our assets, I begged him to at least pay off my credit card debt. He refused and claimed he now made $15,000 a year.

After his passing, I learned that he had paid down $200,000 of the mortgage on the house IN ONE SINGLE PAYMENT. His lawyer had no clue where he got the money.

2023: MY HUSBAND’S DEATH

In 2023, my husband died. We were still legally married.

At his death, he owed me $308,000 in unpaid SPOUSAL SUPPORT — not including half the marital home the court had ordered to sell and divide between us, as well as all the other assets.

For 15 years, my prime working years, I had worked full-time in his ministry, unpaid. It was hard labor. I never accumulated retirement. It was as if I did nothing for all those years.

According to the concentrated efforts of his family and friends to hide our mutual assets from me, my work seemed to be worth nothing, since I didn’t have the right to anything.

I think about that sometimes. What does that mean? Since there is no monetary value to my labor, do I even exist? Or am I a ghost? And since my contribution to our long-term marriage is worth nothing, and my labor is worth nothing, is that because I have no human value?

Doesn’t that technically make me a slave? Isn’t that the definition?

2025: THE NEW THREAT

So now we are here, in 2025.

The bankruptcy lawyers finally sold our marital home — once (before it was trashed, when I still lived there) worth $900,000 — but now, for only $525,000.

And here’s the kicker: ALL the money from the sale of a once $900,000 house was consumed and nothing was left over, even though my original debt was only $44,000.

That means my debt had multiplied by 2,024%.

That’s not the kind of math I’d ever teach my students.

That’s American bankruptcy math.

Where did the money go? LAWYER FEES.

Why so much? Because my husband’s adult daughter squatted in the house for years, for free, illegally. Her eviction cost hundreds of thousands of dollars in fees, including approximately $30,000 for the U.S. Marshal.

And it’s still not over. In May, my husband’s daughter filed a probate case, believing the house was “hers,” despite having no claim to it whatsoever.

And now, it’s even less hers, because the house has already been sold and belongs to someone else.

No matter. The soap opera continues.

Regardless of whether she has a claim to the house or not, her pointless action has dragged the bankruptcy lawyers back in again. And every new motion the bankruptcy lawyers respond to racks up their fees — but she won’t pay them.

I will.

Why me? Why would her court actions impact me?

Because of AMERICAN BANKRUPTCY MATH.

Since my bankruptcy case is still open, the bankruptcy lawyers can use her court actions as a vehicle to milk more money out of me. Because they have to “respond to her,” they rack up fees, no matter how bogus, and to get paid, they can liquidate anything in my name — including my MOBILE HOME.

And if they take my MOBILE HOME — my only home, my only asset — my sons and I will become homeless.

I can’t afford rent in the Bay Area for the three of us. My sons are still in school. Where would we go? I can’t fight another legal battle. I can’t afford a lawyer.

I’d have to move to Finland. My children don’t speak Finnish. Their lives are here. It would destroy and break up my family.

And I don’t think my husband’s daughter will ever stop. I don’t think she understands the facts, no matter how plain you make them. And because she won’t stop, neither will the bankruptcy lawyers.

THAT’S THE FEAR

I’ve barely slept in days. My anxiety is through the roof.

I feel like I’m back in 2015–2018, drowning in fear.

In summary, here’s why I became (and could still become) homeless in America:

• I lost my job.

• I had a disability.

• I had no family here, except my dependent children.

• I was a victim of domestic violence.

• My husband stole all our mutual funds.

• The American “justice system” is entirely broken and punishes victims.

That’s the recipe for homelessness in America.

I did not become homeless because of laziness or lack of integrity.

I came to this country legally. I’m a U. S. Citizen. I dedicated my life to servitude. I’ve worked harder than most people can ever imagine.

And still, I am living proof: honesty and hard work do not guarantee safety or prosperity in the United States of America.

Now, if you believe in prayer, please pray for me and my sons.

***

A follow-up Facebook post on October 11, 2025:

I received an angry voicemail from the relative who filed papers in court for the house that I lost in my bankruptcy. Message was:

"YOU KNOW WHAT, EVA?! IT AIN'T OVER! SEE YOU IN COURT!"

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