Choosing yourself is hard when you grew up meeting the needs of others.

Imagine being raised in a home with three siblings and a single mother.

You’re the oldest who carried the world’s weight on her shoulders.

Who was I supposed to lean on when my days became colder?

You begin to think your mom doesn’t care when she can’t afford to be there.

I battled with depression for so many years, hiding my pain behind a smile while the world persevered.

I spent so many nights crying alone, trying to make sense of my broken home.

I was a broken kid who was desperate for love and attention.

At the time, I was too young to understand the depths of my dimension.

I learned from a broken parent who was the product of a broken home.

She was capable of giving out the only love she’s ever known.

Before my mom was a parent, she was once a kid, too.

I never took the time to see things from her point of view.

My mom was the oldest without a shoulder to lean on, searching for love and someone to depend on.

Time heals all wounds when you go with the flow.

Allowing things to unfold naturally leaves room for growth.

My mom and I are one in the same, blossoming from a life of heartache and pain.

There’s value in seeing that change is possible, even if it doesn’t happen in a flash.

Accepting the things I cannot change allowed me to make peace with my past.