**I wrote this to capture some of my raw feelings and thoughts during the move from San Diego to Honolulu. Moving is stressful. Parenting is stressful. This resulted from one of the more stressful days during this process. The kids and I were separated from my partner for a little over two months, which brought so much perspective about many different things. I recognize the privilege of being reunited and being a part for a shorter duration of time compared to military families or families that aren’t able to come back together while simultaneously holding the difficulty of my own experience. I plan to share more as I look back and continue to process. Hopefully, someone can resonate with some of it, all of it, or bits of it <3

 

It’s been twenty-two days since I have been entirely alone with the kids, and my partner started his new position in Oahu. It has been lonely and challenging in different ways at different moments. I get waves of loneliness not having another adult to fill my cup when I constantly pour into two little cups. 

 

I have thought a lot about my mom throughout this process, especially today. I felt a bit nostalgic but also sorrowful for her life as a young mom and her lack of support. I felt even more guilty for having it much easier than she did.

 

My body aches, and I am tired, but not because I worked a 10-hour shift at an assembly line at a factory. Or have constant exposure to harsh chemicals regularly and heavy mechanical equipment requires you to constantly move and be unable to sit and rest except for the 30-minute lunch and the two 15-minute breaks. My body, essence, and purpose aren’t being used as a machine to only produce like that of many immigrant people in this country.

 

No, I am fortunate to work from home, to drop my kids off, and pick them up from school. See, my mom had to wake us up before the sun even decided to peek across the sky. At five a.m., so she can be at work at six, and often, she would wake up as early as three or four a.m. to get herself ready and our things ready. She always made sure to have her makeup done and hair blown out, and she smelled amazing regardless of where she worked. She took immense pride in her appearance because that was what she could control. Still, to this day, she wakes up that early to do similar work but at a different company.

 

I never realized how much grief I carried watching my mom struggle and work as hard as any, if not harder, than a man. How much I wish her life as an adult was full of comfort, ease, and joy. I am living the life she couldn’t but probably hoped for. 

 

I have a flexible job that I helped create, but I am quitting my role in a few weeks to dedicate all my energy to parenting and moving. I am sore because I worked out and moved my body. I am tired because my kids take a lot from me and because taking care of a household is a full-time job that I was unaware of until I became a mother. My mom had more than one full-time job. I chose to stay up late to watch a show and unwind, but my mom didn’t have that choice. She was tired because she stayed up late cooking and cleaning for the next day, waking up early to do it all over again. She was always tired from beating her body down in a highly physical job to provide for her daughters and then come home to cook dinners. I still remember my oldest cousin criticizing my mom for only feeding us quesadillas and sopita. I didn’t know any better and didn’t care, but as I made my kids the bean and cheese burritos I grew up eating, I understand now it was easy, simple, cheap, healthy, and quick. It hurts to know that’s what she was being judged on and not that she took herself and her daughters from a dangerous living situation and was doing all of it on her own. 

 

I can’t imagine the loneliness she must have felt. Most of her family was in another country, and the two siblings she had in the same city were toxic rather than helpful. I don’t remember her having many friends; I am lucky to see mine this Friday and every Sunday. She was too tired to have a hobby and also didn’t know how because it wasn’t modeled. Our culture instills that women must self-sacrifice para la familia (for the family)… para los hijos (for the children). Self-care and separation from our children and the household to maintain our own identity outside of motherhood and marriage is a new concept in my lineage. 

 

I am truly blessed for all my abundance; none of it would have been possible without her sacrifices. One day soon, I will give her the life that she has always been worthy of so she can live the second half of her life in ease, joy, and comfort.