As I’ve grown older, I have come to really understand how much my mom did for me and how lucky I am. She raised me on her own, somehow navigating me through the grief of losing my grandma, the darkest period of my depression, and the rocky road to higher education. I don’t know how she did it on her own, working full-time with little help from family. I remember she made sure I had something to do every summer, whether it was enrolling me in enrichment classes at SMU, going to math camp, or making me take classes at the community colleges. When teachers told me I was hopeless or I told her I would never graduate from high school, she fought for me and pushed me because she believed I could go farther than she did. I owe everything to her.
These days, when I see single parents and their children, I think back to my childhood. I’m sure it’s not easy raising kids by yourself and I admire those parents that somehow manage to do it all. I am always fiercely protective of single parents and those that I know personally, I try to show them that they are not alone, I see the effort and sacrifices they’re making for their kids. I just want them to know that what they do for their children is amazing and they’re doing a great job, even if they feel like they’re spinning their wheels.