May's Monthly Dispatch
June 4, 2025
Raw, Honest, and Defeated
Feeling defeated is an emotional experience universally held at different times in our lives. Recently, I was asked a vulnerable and honest question by a board member: "What is holding up the progress of us establishing a Medical Respite campus?" My initial response was, "Well, it's nuanced." Then, I went through the complexities of land acquisition, public support, stifled funding, etc. And, all that is true. They're each an issue and each deserves to be addressed holistically.
I generally consider myself to be an optimist, confident that the reliance on data and research will move the needle forward. But today, I find myself fallible and struggling to maintain that optimism.
Maybe my research methodology with an applied community approach is weighing too heavilyly on me. Perhaps it's the family I'm working to find support for— a couple who have lived in a trailer for quite some time. The wife, we'll call her Miranda, is on dialysis for 10 hours multiple days a week, and live on a fixed income of $900-odd dollars a month. Their current circumstances are insufficient for survival; but now that a new landlord has acquired the trailer park, he wants to evict them and jack up the price. If you've been paying attention to my work, you know our shelters are at max capacity and folks with medical illnesses quite literally have nowhere to go. Even if the shelters could accommodate this couple, it's highly likely she'd be turned away due to her susceptibility to contract an infection in a congregate living facility.
The current administration announced on May 2 the "skinny budget" for HUD. It was a 43% reduction in all HUD services and an end to permanent supportive housing. Thankfully, it didn't get passed, but it gives you an indication of the federal landscape’s terrain.
It is absolutely exhausting paying taxes into a system that doesn't serve its people. It's amazing to me that it's a "hot take" or "controversial" to want my tax dollars used for infrastructure and the betterment of our communities.
Regardless of your political opinions or moral credence, what the launch of a Medical Respite campus to help the people of East Tennessee requires is money. It doesn't matter if it's federal, state, or private funds; it still requires that green. We've worked our hind ends off for the money we have in the bank. But ultimately, to stay around a 2.5 million dollar build (including the land purchase), we still need 20% down. As a person who had to clamor her way into the middle class, that $750,000 price tag (more, if you don't want to take out loans) feels damn near impossible. I hear regularly about how valuable our work is, yet we remain in a holding pattern. I'm no genius, but I'm no dummy either. We're making all the low-risk investments we can to propel ourselves forward. I'm taking all the partnership opportunities. I'm going after the limited grant opportunities that are left. I'm taking all coffee/tea/lunches with anyone willing to give up a dime for this work.
The reality is, I'll continue to do so. I'm tired and fed up and exasperated; I'm sure that was easily gathered. But I'm not facing the reality of living on the street with open port access to receive dialysis.
I launched Unity Housing in 2023, and together with our Board, we have been able to raise awareness and work toward a downpayment to purchase land to build a medical respite community. And while it was urgent before, it’s even more urgent now. Our family, friends, and neighbors are at risk. I need you to donate to help us reach our $750,000 goal so we can make that downpayment. Can you commit to making it a monthly donation? $25 a month equals $300 a year.
I know this goal we’ve set for ourselves, and our community, might seem lofty and out of reach. I know that times are financially hard for all of us. But I also understand how powerful our community is when we come together.
Anything is possible.
So, what's the takeaway from this moment of raw honesty? It's that the frustration is real, the obstacles are significant, but the need is even greater. This isn't just about a building; it's about Miranda, it's about every individual whose health and dignity are compromised by a system that too often falls short. The fight for this Medical Respite campus, for a more just and compassionate community, continues – fueled by the unwavering belief that even when the path is daunting, the people we serve deserve nothing less than our relentless effort. And while optimism might flicker, the resolve to find that "green," to build that hope, and to change those realities, burns on.
There’s a lot going on that can leave us feeling frustrated and helpless. And the obstacles ahead of us are significant. But I’m not giving up and neither should you. Making this vision of a medical respite facility a reality is something we can build together. Miranda needs us to do this work. So many in our community need us to do this work. Will you join me?
