- K
I grew up in homes with mice and roaches. Moving around because the rent kept going up. Living with men who caused harm but provided. We had to survive. My mother and her four children.
My mother was a hairstylist and the "Cafeteria Lady" at my middle school. I've watched her struggle my whole life and I am beyond tired. When I was younger I was delusional... or hopeful? The hope has faded as I got older and life got realer and nothing really changed. I didn’t know things were as bad as it was. I always thought to myself that it wouldn’t always be like this. Soon things will be better. I never knew how. I just thought something would just happen. Out of the blue. This can’t actually be life. I never thought about how different my life was from a lot of my friends. Even when I spent most days at their homes and not mine. Eating their food because I didn’t have any. Spending time with their family because I never knew mine. I spent Christmas at my best friends house watching her and her siblings open gifts. I remember having an argument with my friend at the grocery store bc I grabbed the “off brand” ketchup. Funny. I thought we had the same struggle as black people. I never felt like I was poor. Not with my mothers love.
My mother was taken from her home when she was a child. Her father took her to Los Angeles, to work. To cook. To clean. To serve. Forced to live with her abusive father and step mother and take care of their kids. All my mothers life she has been taking care of everyone but herself. Her father trained her that way. To put the needs of others before herself. She would go on to be with shitty men that gave her beautiful children and finally leave her fathers grasp. She struggled to take care of us four all alone. All of her family was in Massachusetts. Family I’ve only seen a few times in my whole life. She never had the money to go back home but she says that even though she missed her mother and siblings, they weren’t perfect over there either. So, she raised some LA babies. I was there front row seat. I saw my mother’s struggle and growing up things just became more clear.
Last year me and my mother went on a trip back to her childhood home. We were there to say goodbye to my grandmother before she passed. Of course I cried seeing my mothers childhood home for the first time. I cried seeing my grandmother dance for the first time. I cried seeing the cake that read, “Welcome Home Connie”. I cried thinking of all the time she could have spent with her mom. That was now shortened to a few days.
One of the most heartbreaking things my mother expressed to me was how guilty she felt not being there for her mother through her illness. Instead, she was taking care of someone else’s mother. Her best friends mother. Her friend was also ill and before she passed, she asked my mother if she could look after her mother who had dementia and no family left. And because my mother is who she is... that’s exactly what she has been doing to this day. With a messed up shoulder and bad knee. In her old age. Still, she takes care. She should be the one who is being taken cared of. And there is so much me and my siblings can do. When I visit her it hurts everytime. Seeing all that she does. Still. It feels her life is not her own. I watch her as she cooks and cleans and limps around the house. I watch her struggle lifting this old woman on and off her bed.. repeating herself until her head hurts. She takes care of my sister who is disabled. She watches my nieces and nephews when their parents are busy. She helps her friends when they are in need. And on her "off days" she goes to the casino to try to win money. Win money she should f*cking have.
I want my mother to be free. I want my mother to rest. I want her to not have to worry about bills, about her health, about her children, about her children’s children. I want her to take care of herself and be selfish for once. I want her to have her life back before it’s gone. 2020 has shown us all how wild life is and how short life is. I don’t want my mother to spend the rest of her life struggling. I’m tired of waiting and waiting for things to change. I want my mother to be happy. To at least get a fucking break. ( because honestly she deserves more thank 5k ) So, if you can. Please help me do this for her. Help me make things easier for her. Help me give her some good news for once. That would be nice.
My mother was a hairstylist and the "Cafeteria Lady" at my middle school. I've watched her struggle my whole life and I am beyond tired. When I was younger I was delusional... or hopeful? The hope has faded as I got older and life got realer and nothing really changed. I didn’t know things were as bad as it was. I always thought to myself that it wouldn’t always be like this. Soon things will be better. I never knew how. I just thought something would just happen. Out of the blue. This can’t actually be life. I never thought about how different my life was from a lot of my friends. Even when I spent most days at their homes and not mine. Eating their food because I didn’t have any. Spending time with their family because I never knew mine. I spent Christmas at my best friends house watching her and her siblings open gifts. I remember having an argument with my friend at the grocery store bc I grabbed the “off brand” ketchup. Funny. I thought we had the same struggle as black people. I never felt like I was poor. Not with my mothers love.
My mother was taken from her home when she was a child. Her father took her to Los Angeles, to work. To cook. To clean. To serve. Forced to live with her abusive father and step mother and take care of their kids. All my mothers life she has been taking care of everyone but herself. Her father trained her that way. To put the needs of others before herself. She would go on to be with shitty men that gave her beautiful children and finally leave her fathers grasp. She struggled to take care of us four all alone. All of her family was in Massachusetts. Family I’ve only seen a few times in my whole life. She never had the money to go back home but she says that even though she missed her mother and siblings, they weren’t perfect over there either. So, she raised some LA babies. I was there front row seat. I saw my mother’s struggle and growing up things just became more clear.
Last year me and my mother went on a trip back to her childhood home. We were there to say goodbye to my grandmother before she passed. Of course I cried seeing my mothers childhood home for the first time. I cried seeing my grandmother dance for the first time. I cried seeing the cake that read, “Welcome Home Connie”. I cried thinking of all the time she could have spent with her mom. That was now shortened to a few days.
One of the most heartbreaking things my mother expressed to me was how guilty she felt not being there for her mother through her illness. Instead, she was taking care of someone else’s mother. Her best friends mother. Her friend was also ill and before she passed, she asked my mother if she could look after her mother who had dementia and no family left. And because my mother is who she is... that’s exactly what she has been doing to this day. With a messed up shoulder and bad knee. In her old age. Still, she takes care. She should be the one who is being taken cared of. And there is so much me and my siblings can do. When I visit her it hurts everytime. Seeing all that she does. Still. It feels her life is not her own. I watch her as she cooks and cleans and limps around the house. I watch her struggle lifting this old woman on and off her bed.. repeating herself until her head hurts. She takes care of my sister who is disabled. She watches my nieces and nephews when their parents are busy. She helps her friends when they are in need. And on her "off days" she goes to the casino to try to win money. Win money she should f*cking have.