Gaining Responsibility and Independence

Gaining Responsibility and Independence

            At the beginning of 2000, about a month after my 22^nd birthday, my family received the worst news we could possibly hear that my mom had cancer.  In that moment I had so many different emotions going on.  The first thing that came to mind was that she had to get better and they needed to find a cure.  I knew that there was no way I could live without my mom, for she was all I knew.  My parents divorced after my youngest brother was born when I was around 3 years old.  My dad was never in the picture, and had passed away when I was a senior in high school.  They tried to do surgery to remove the cancer; however, they were only able to remove what they could since it had already spread.  After reality started to sink in, I sat down to talk to my mom.  We were having a normal conversation talking about how our day was.  As I started to think, I mentioned to her that I thought it was time for me to move out and learn to be responsible.

“What do you mean?”

As my voice started to crack I replied, “I don’t know what it is like to pay rent, pay bills or anything.  I don’t even pay my own cell phone bill, except for when I want to.  What am I to do when you’re not here?”

“I know that you will be ok.  However, if this is what you need to do I will support you on it,” she answered. 

            What no one, except my mom, knew was that while I was living at home I was working full-time, but my money was my money.  Sometimes I would help out by giving my mom money for food or the household bills and would buy supplies for our home.  Then again she would help me by paying my cell phone bill along with credit cards I had.  At the end she helped me more than I had helped her.  So, I knew I had no sense of responsibility or independence.

            I found a roommate, but still needed to find a place to live.  After a couple of months of looking, I came across a two-bedroom apartment that had a backyard.  It was located in a quiet Oxnard neighborhood, which happened to be in an excellent location, close to a grocery store, 7-Eleven, places to eat, and about a 10-minute drive away from my job.  Another plus was that my future neighbors were going to be my friend Rosemary and her family who lived across the courtyard and her sister Ruby and her husband who lived on the left hand side of my building.  Rosemary and I were good friends at the time; in fact, I was even in her wedding.  Another bonus was, Rosemary’s parents were the managers of the apartment building, and since they liked me a lot they put me first on the waiting list for a soon to be vacant apartment. 

            While I was looking for a place, the only people who knew I was planning on moving out were my mom and my youngest brother.  After deciding to rent the apartment, I had to talk to the rest of my family to let them know what was going on.  It was time to let my older brothers know, since we were all going to have to make adjustment to do our part and pitch in to help my mom.  As soon as my other family members heard about me moving out, all I got was negative feedback.  I thought that maybe some of them would support me.  All they saw was me moving out and told me time and time again that I was being selfish and wondered how I could leave my mom.  None of them knew what was going through my mind and how hard it was for me to make this decision.

 As the day drew closer, I was packing and reality started to sink in.  I was moving out of the only place I knew as home.  I remember as if it was yesterday.  My friends Larry and Rosemary helped me move, along with my mom. 

“Isabel, you’re so lazy.  This is all your stuff, but yet you have poor Larry carrying everything,” my mom uttered as if she was angry. 

“We are taking a break.  We are thirsty,” I answered.

“You can at least offer him something to drink,” she said, as I felt her eyes looking at me with disappointed because of my bad manners.

So as he came back in, I told him my mom said for him to take a break and have something to drink.

The first night sleeping in my new place was a little rough.  Even though I was sleeping in my own bed, it wasn’t in the place I knew as home.  Since I could remember, I always had sleep issues.  However, this new place made it worse.  The first night I slept there, I was up almost the whole night.  As time passed, it became a little easier to sleep in my new place.  However, I think since I was coming home around 2 a.m. helped a lot.  Since I would come home so exhausted, it didn’t take me long to fall asleep.  When I moved out, my youngest brother and my sister-in-law moved back in with my mom.  Between the three of us, we took turns taking care of my mom.  My routine consisted of waking up at 5:30 a.m. and getting ready to leave my place by 6:45 a.m.  I would go to my mom’s and have breakfast with her and drop off laundry or anything I wanted to leave for the day.  I would go to work from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m., going to my mom’s house on my lunch.  While I was at work, my brother and/or my sister-in-law would be with my mom, at home or with her at her doctor appointments.  When I would get off of work, my brother would be going into work.  My evenings were spent with my mom to keep her from being home alone just in case something happened.  While I was there, I would make sure she would eat, even if it was something small since she wasn’t always feeling well enough to eat.  I would do laundry and just hang out until my brother got off of work.  After he would get home, I would go home to sleep which was usually around 1:30 a.m.   And the routine would start over all over again until I got smart.  As time passed, I found myself staying at my mom’s, either sleeping on the sofa or sleeping with her in her bed.  It came to a point where 100% of my time outside of work was at my mom’s and I wasn’t even sleeping at my place anymore.  My mom made room for me in her closet, by giving me half of her closet space, and gave me a couple of drawers in her dresser.  For about three months, I was paying rent and bills for a place I wasn’t really living at.  That was when I knew I was okay.  I was supporting myself along with taking care of my mom with whatever she needed help with, whether it cooking for her, helping her with money, or just being there so she wasn’t alone.  In a year, I had grown up so much that I didn’t even know what hit me.   

In February of 2001, my mom passed away.  And I remember telling her before she passed, not to worry that I was going to be okay and that my younger brother was going to be okay, because we were going to help take care of each other.  I know she worried about all of us, especially the babies of the family.  And I remember saying to my oldest brother’s wife, “It’s funny how everyone was so quick to put me down when I decided to move out.  As my mom’s health got worse, everyone was so quick to tell my youngest brother to move out of my mom’s place, since she wasn’t staying there anymore.  That would have been me they would have been trying to kick out   And what happened to everyone in my family, from my older brothers to my aunts, uncles and cousins, who said they would help my mom by cooking meals for her, visiting her often, taking her to appointments and even going to buy groceries and necessities for her, but no one was there.  It was the babies of the family who were the ones that took care of my mom.”  That was when I knew my mom did her part and showed me how to become a responsible and independent adult. 

I believe everything we go through in life, whether it’s good or bad, happens for a reason.  At first we didn’t understand why my mom had to get cancer and still don’t, however I know that I wouldn’t be who I am today if I didn’t go through everything we went through.  It made me more aware of my health, so I go regularly to the doctor for check-ups and cancer screenings, since cancer runs in my family.  Today, I am not married and don’t have any kids.  However, I fully support myself working full-time and also go to school full-time.  If I didn’t have my mom, the strong person that she was even to the day she passed, I wouldn’t be the strong person that I am today.