Such a small word with such huge ramifications for so many. I don't think that many people have a clue about the extent or what it is that people experience when they live in poverty. Maybe that is why working at the Samaritan Inn means so much to me; I can absolutely relate to what they are experiencing. I walk into my house today and think, I am so, forever, beyond grateful to be where I am today. I am standing in a place that doesn't happen for everyone. I have had to scrape the bottom of the barrel. I have been so mistreated, and today I stand in a place where all my bills are paid, and I even have a small amount of money in the bank. No one understands who hasn't truly lived there. I have, and I have been ashamed. I have not had a place to live, and I have been made to feel like a burden when I did. Everyone is always willing to judge, yet no one takes the time to listen and to understand. I have been on food stamps, and I have received TANF. I have had to walk out of stores because there was no money on my card. I have been there in those offices, speaking to people who were making big life decisions for me, and yet didn't hear a word I said.
I can remember Vincent and Mariska not even being a week old, I was so happy being their mom they were everything perfect. The worker who did the interview threw a pen at me from across the table because I couldn't give her the father's name. I remember sitting in the waiting room and my mother making comments about the dirty chairs and telling me not to put my children on them. I still distinctly remember them arguing with me about the formula because they were twins. I vividly remember everything about that day and don't believe that I could have felt any smaller. After that appointment, I went to the car, and the tears started flowing as I tried to nurse my sweet baby. Not one person acknowledged my beautiful babies or me. I always dreaded that call every three months, same questions same answers and still treated like a piece of trash.
They were still newborn and there was a crisis pregnancy center. I could not bring myself to go after what happened at Health and Human Services so my mother went. Once again, I was made to feel small and so very insignificant. They gave her clothes that were beyond old and more than stained. I was sitting on my bed, trying more than hard to be grateful. Soon, the sobbing started, and I asked how I was supposed to put my precious babies in those clothes. I cried because I was grateful for what I was given, yet heartbroken because they deserved better. And of course, they put a bible in with everything, like someone who thought that was going to make everything better. I think my mother went back once or twice. Once they argued about diapers for twins, and then the last time. They gave us a highchair with mold on it and said that we just needed to wipe it down. That chair was thrown in the trash and we never went back.
I was more than grateful, but people don't understand what it is like being in that situation. I didn't deserve less or any better than any other single mom, yet I was looked down on and treated so unkindly by so many. There were a few people who said I should just be grateful, and they had no idea just how grateful I was. I did everything. I was grateful that my mother let us live with her. I was grateful for it all, and I always felt less than and so unimportant.
This week, there were many moments that reminded me of just how far I have come. I often think back to when they were babies and toddlers, and my heart smiles. I loved every second, and I never missed a single moment or a first with them. Goodness, I didn't have two cents to rub together, yet they always had everything that they needed. I look back at some of the pictures and wonder how I managed to make it all work. There were many reminders, given that it was Amelia's Birthday week. She was able to be so celebrated; there are so many people who love her so. I was able to buy everyone lunch on her actual birthday after our trip to the park, and doing that brought me such joy. I may have to cut something somewhere, but I wanted to do that. I brought balloons and necklaces, and all the things to the park. It's the best feeling when they notice you from across the park. She has a life so different from her dad. Even coming to my house she has all the things that she needs and more, she can never wear all the clothes in her closet, or play with all the toys but they are all here for her always. She is growing up so very different than how my Vincent grew up. That family that supports that kind of love that I didn't have when the kids were small. All of us celebrate all of her milestones and accomplishments and cool outfits. For my children, there was just me. Sometimes my mom, every now and then my brother, but I was the constant. Always grateful to be their mom and make sure they knew just how special and important they were.
Finishing school and beginning my career as a teacher was a struggle, but they always had everything, and I see where I am today, getting to be a poppy and do the things that I have only imagined for my granddaughter.
Once again, I have an understanding and a perspective that few have. I have crawled my way out of a place that few do. The determination that I never lost wanting so much better for my children than I ever had. I apologize that this post is everywhere all at once, but this week was very emotional. I think there was a longing for things that I never had. I wish there were celebrations and acknowledgments for my children by someone other than me. I am ever so grateful that Amelia is so loved and supported in all that she does. In so many ways, the things I can share with Vincent and his little family bring the circle back to where it began. Those full circle moments when pieces all come together, and good things happen. I feel truly, truly grateful that I was able to climb out of that poverty and into a place where I am continuing to make a difference and do things better. I also understand what it takes to do that; I have a true understanding of that struggle, and sometimes my heart breaks.
I wish that I had been treated differently when I was struggling. So I treat others the way that I wish to be treated. We are all on this journey, living life, and we all have a story that has gotten us where we are and will lead us in the present and maybe even push us further. We can't ignore these things; we have to do better. We have to do better and treat people better. We have to acknowledge that we are all just people doing the best that we can. I will never forget all I have experienced and where I have come from. I will always always care from the bottom of my heart about you exactly where you are in this moment. We have to talk about and acknowledge the hard things so together we can make a difference that is so needed by so many.
I heart your heart.
