On a quiet street in North Charlotte, Terri walks with her four daughters to the bus stop each morning. As the sun rises over their first real house—a place with a yard that needs mowing, front steps to race up, a well-loved basketball hoop in the driveway, and rooms for each child to play—she still finds herself pausing in disbelief. “It took me about six months to really realize, like, okay, I can breathe now,” Terri says. “I was walking them to the bus stop one day, and I thought, wow, we got a house. It’s real.”
She can still vividly remember sitting down with her laptop on Valentine’s Day in 2024 and typing “temporary housing Charlotte” into the search bar. It should have been a joyous time—she had just given birth to her fourth daughter and was back at work doing the job she loves; but a preeclampsia diagnosis earlier in her pregnancy forced her to take unexpected medical leave. She used her savings to cover rent through the holidays and in early February received the eviction notice. She had 30 days to find somewhere else for herself and her four daughters to live.
Terri has always been resilient. She became a mother to triplets at 23 and raised her daughters largely on her own; she’s survived domestic violence, the death of her children’s father, the economic instability of the COVID-19 pandemic, and years of profound changes in the city she’s called home her entire life.
In the time before her eviction, Terri describes herself as someone who was “just doing day by day. I really wasn’t planning, I was working for the day and trying to make sure everybody’s needs were met.”
Looking back, she can see how Charlotte’s economic climate forced her into survival mode. Fighting to keep her head above water didn’t leave her any time to plan for the future, invest in herself, or dream of the life she wanted for her family.
“Prices went up, but wages didn’t. It was like being set up for failure,” she says. Yet, Terri chose to keep fighting. “There isn’t a book on parenthood and adulthood—you have to learn by experience.”
Her urgent Valentine’s Day Google search led her to Charlotte Family Housing’s website. She filled out an application and within weeks, she and her daughters were moving into Plaza Place shelter. Walking through the doors, she was surprised by her feelings of peace and confidence. “It was a homey feeling. I knew that I was making the right decision,” she remembers.
Knowing her family had somewhere safe to come home to every night freed her up to focus on changing her mindset. “When I got to CFH, it was all about setting goals. Meeting with my caseworkers, setting plans. Writing things down. Learning to budget.”
She also finally had the space and encouragement to start taking care of herself, to heal from the painful experiences of her past, and to build new healthy habits. “I always give to everybody else, and I had to learn to pour back into me what I give out. Before, I never poured into myself. Now I know it’s okay to do things for me too. It’s not selfish—it makes me better for my family.”
Sometimes that means getting her hair done and doing facemasks before bed, but it also means setting boundaries to protect her time and energy. Where she once described herself as a workaholic who always answered work calls, she’s learned to “just turn off my phone and enjoy the moment.” The confidence she’s gained through the program has transformed her approach to leadership at work, helping her speak up for herself and her team in ways she never could before.
After a few months living in the transitional shelter, Terri signed a lease for their very first rental house as a family. “When I pulled up to the house, I said, ‘Is this the right house?’” she laughs. The house sat just three blocks from where she’d lived decades earlier, in a neighborhood she knew well.
“This is actually the first home for my daughters,” she explains. “We always lived in an apartment or hotel. So it was just a huge adjustment for everyone.”
Terri’s girls are her constant motivation and inspiration. “They might not know it at the time, but I know they’re always looking at me”.
Watching them settle into the comfort and stability of their new home fills Terri’s heart with immense joy.
“Now, they enjoy coming home more. They love the neighborhood. They like to stay in their rooms and watch TV. One of them sketches in her room all the time. Having their own space—it’s important.”
Looking back on their journey home, Terri sees not just the roof over her family’s head, but the confidence she’s gained and the resilience she’s modeled for her daughters. Out of all she’s accomplished, she’s especially proud to have let go of her pride and allowed herself to be vulnerable. “To succeed in CFH, you have to change your mindset. Sometimes you have to be vulnerable in order for somebody to help you. And I had to give myself grace. If I tried something and didn’t succeed, at least I tried. That’s what matters.”
Her advice to other mothers facing similar challenges is rooted in all she’s learned over the past few years: “Give yourself grace. Don’t be ashamed to ask for help. Sometimes it’s not your fault—you lost a job, or a relationship ended. That doesn’t define you.”
These days, Terri is making sure she only defines herself by the things that matter: her strength, the community she’s built, and the family that anchors her.
Finding this stronger sense of identity, apart from the many roles she juggles, feels like coming home to herself. “Being a parent and a leader, you tend to forget who you are. For me, this program gave me time to really explore who I am without labels. I’m just Terri.
