PayPal permanently disabled my account and locked me out of funds I worked hard for.

I’ve lived with a severe fear of dying—almost a paranoia. When I go out, intrusive thoughts whisper that something terrible is waiting. Maybe I fear death because it was my roommate in the womb. ‘No fetal movement.’ My mom was cleaning out old documents when she found my birth papers. She told me I had stopped moving. Green discharge came, and they thought I was lost. When I finally arrived, I was barely the size of a fist. My mom cried every day, she said. She prayed to every saint she knew. And with those prayers, daily sunlight, and the relentless care of a mother unwilling to surrender her child, I survived. These past months have not been kind. Last May, I had to leave my job suddenly—right in the middle of severe debt—and began selling almost everything I owned. I’m running out of things to sell. Then, after half a year of applying, I finally landed a job I thought would turn things around. It wasn’t what it was supposed to be, and I found myself jobless. Again. As if that weren’t enough, PayPal permanently disabled my account and locked me out of funds I worked hard for. Fiverr—the platform I built from nothing—was permanently disabled too. Some nights I ask myself: will I survive this? Will I be okay? I will be. I was born from hundreds of prayers and the intercession of saints, from my mother’s sun baths and her stubborn devotion to keeping me alive. Hard times come the way good times do. The sun rises, the sun sets, and tomorrow it rises again. I won’t give up, because those who loved me never did. Death did not take me then. I decide it won’t take me now either. Love, OV