May 5, 2026 – Atlanta, GA
For years, Amber knew of Our House, but never imagined she’d one day need their services herself.
She was educated, employed, working in public health, and raising her young daughter. By day, she was busily building a career connecting vulnerable families to resources across Metro Atlanta.
From the outside looking in, her life appeared stable. But behind closed doors, she was hiding a painful secret.
Amber was living in a home shaped by domestic violence.
Amber already had a connection to Our House long before she ever considered it for herself.
Her daughter, Hailey, had been enrolled in the organization’s Early Childhood Education program since she was a baby. Amber knew the environment and the people, and through her work, she had even shared information about Our House with others who might benefit.
“At the time I thought it was just a daycare,” she said. “I didn’t realize they had so many programs.”
Even as her personal situation became more unstable, she did not initially see herself as someone who would seek help. Her own perceptions nearly kept her from asking for help.
“I didn’t think I belonged there,” she said. “I thought I was supposed to figure it out on my own.”
Like many women navigating difficult relationships, the situation she eventually found herself in did not begin with obvious warning signs.
“It wasn’t always bad,” she said. “But over time things became mentally and physically abusive.”
Then the violence escalated.
Eventually, the threats became serious enough that Amber feared for both her life and her daughter’s safety. She abruptly left the apartment she shared with her daughter’s father and began quietly moving between temporary places while trying to maintain appearances.
“He was threatening me and my daughter’s life,” Amber said. “I started missing work because I was afraid he would show up.”
But even as she navigated that instability, she continued to maintain daily routines for her daughter and present a sense of normalcy to the outside world. She continued taking Hailey to school every morning, smiling through conversations, trying to hide bruises, and pretending everything was okay.
The turning point came through a simple conversation.
One day, a staff member at Our House noticed something was wrong.
“She asked if I was okay, and I just broke down,” Amber recalled.
Even then, asking for help felt almost impossible. Amber said one of the hardest parts was believing she even “qualified” for help because she was employed and outwardly appeared stable.
“I looked at the women already there and thought they needed the help more than I did,” she said. “I had a job. I didn’t think I belonged there.”
That perception, she says now, is exactly why so many women delay asking for help.
“Homelessness doesn’t have a look,” she said. “Somebody can walk into a room looking completely put together and still be going through the worst period of their life.”
With encouragement from her sister and staff, she made the decision to enter the shelter program at Our House.
The transition was emotionally difficult.
She was balancing trauma, work, parenting, depression, and the mental exhaustion that comes with constantly operating in survival mode. At first, she struggled with the idea of curfews and structure because, as an adult and working mother, she was used to complete independence.
“My first week there was very welcoming from everybody else, but it was very hard mentally,” she said.
Over time, the structure began to help her regain a sense of balance. She realized the routines were helping restore something she had lost: stability.
“Once you get into the rhythm of it, you realize they’re trying to help you get back to a calmer mental state,” she said.
The group sessions also changed her perspective. As women began opening up about trauma, parenting, mental health, and survival, Amber realized many of the residents had initially judged one another based on appearances alone.
“People thought I didn’t need to be there because I looked like I had it together,” she said. “Then once we started talking, they realized I really was going through something.”
While Amber was working to stabilize her own life, Hailey continued attending the Early Childhood Education (ECE) program she had been part of since infancy. For Amber, that continuity was critical.
Hailey was born prematurely at 25 weeks, weighing just one pound and five ounces. Because of complications related to her premature birth, she continues to experience respiratory challenges and is hospitalized periodically, particularly during seasonal changes. Despite those challenges, Amber says her daughter has thrived in the program.
“This is the only school she’s been to,” she said. “She loves going to school. I’ve never had to fight to get her up in the morning.”
The level of care and connection Hailey receives in Our House’s ECE program also stood out to Amber.
“When she’s in the hospital, they send gift baskets, cards, and call to check on her,” Amber said. “My friends always talk about how they don’t experience any of that with their child’s school.”
Now five years old, Hailey is already reading and has developed an advanced vocabulary that constantly surprises her mother.
“She speaks so properly,” Amber said with a laugh. “Sometimes I joke that she sounds like she’s from England.”
Amber credits much of that growth to the nurturing environment, attentiveness, and consistency provided through the program.
“I didn’t even realize she knew some of the things she knows,” she said. “She’s advanced because of the support she receives at school.”
After leaving the shelter program, Amber connected with community partners working alongside Our House as part of their Rapid Rehousing Program. The assistance helped her secure an apartment in the community she grew up in, close to family and friends, while providing the ability to continue saving money, working, and planning for the future.
For Amber, one of the clearest signs of her growth and progress came during the holidays. In previous years, holidays were shaped by instability and dependence on others.
“This Christmas, it was just me and her,” she said. “It was a really good feeling.”
She was able to provide for her daughter in ways she hadn’t been able to before and create their own traditions. She also reached milestones she once thought were out of reach, including taking her daughter to Disney World.
Between her work, support from Our House, and time spent rebuilding, she was able to create a level of financial stability that allowed her to plan ahead and build toward the future.
Today, Amber continues to raise her daughter in a stable, supportive home. She is finishing her degree in Information Technology and will graduate next spring.
When asked what the word “home” means to her now, her answer is simple.
“Peace,” she said. “Home is wherever I can find peace and stability.”
Amber hopes her story helps people understand that homelessness and domestic violence are often far more hidden than people realize and that many families quietly carrying enormous burdens are still showing up to work, parenting, and trying to survive every day.
“You never judge a book by its cover,” she said. “Homelessness doesn’t have a specific look.”
Our House serves more than 2,200 children and adults each year, providing long-term shelter, early childhood education, comprehensive healthcare, employment training, and wraparound support to Atlanta families experiencing or at risk of homelessness. To support families like Amber’s and help create more stories of stability, healing, and hope, visit https://ourhousega.org/make-a-gift/
