You're the reason I live and the accompanying guilt

In First Gen: A Memoir, Alejandra Campoverdi mentioned how her mother and grandmother would often tell her that she was the reason they live. This is something my own mother has told me many times from a young age. Much like Campoverdi, I have felt a lot of pressure knowing that my mom's life is in my hands just as much as my own. 

My mom met my father at a country western bar when she was in her 30s. She has always said that she married the first man who asked. They had a terrible marriage that ended four years after my birth. I am the only child of both of my parents. My mom quit her travel agent job when she was pregnant with me and didn't go back to work until I was in high school. My mom never tried to remarry or date. 

Growing up, it was essentially my mom and I against the world. We spent all of our time together, and she always made every effort to make my childhood enjoyable. She was always the parent volunteer for field trips. She DIYed games and decorations for every one of my birthdays, inviting all of my classmates to a party. She even borrowed money from family friends to take me to Disneyland for my tenth birthday. 

As I started getting older, it was clear that this close relationship developed into a case of childhood parentification. As already mentioned in a couple of previous blog posts, a parentified child is one who has taken on the responsibilities of a parent, which is not developmentally appropriate for their age. Parentification can be like having to take care of a sibling or being responsible for the family financially, but it can also be emotional, as discussed by Alejandra Campoverdi. 

I was a substitute therapist for my mom starting at a young age. She would frequently talk about her stress relating to my dad, money, family dynamics, etc. For Campoverdi, her emotional parentification left her hiding her own feelings in order to not stress anyone out. This was the same for me. I have grown up learning to stifle my true feelings or emotions because I did not want to add to pre-existing stress. The emotional sponge I have become has led to my mother seeing me as less of a daughter and more of a best friend. 

    "You're the reason I live..."

I have heard variations of this phrase many times. 

My mom had a semi-exciting life before I existed. In high school, she was a theater kid who played major roles in renditions of West Side Story and Fiddler on The Roof. After graduating, she moved from rural southern Oregon to Portland with her sister and spent time traveling around the state as the lead singer of a band. Even in her 30s, she and her friends often frequented the same country western bar where she met my father. 

Upon having me, she sacrificed any potential of living the life she had before. She moved back to southern Oregon to be closer to her parents and grandma. She gave up what could have been a prosperous career. She never tried to date or remarry. She spent all of her time doing whatever she could to raise me. Any job that she was able to get after my birth never paid enough to keep us afloat. Everything that she did from that point forward was for me. 

When I went to undergrad, I stayed in-state. This allowed me to visit home and still do whatever I could for the family. The Covid-19 pandemic was a blessing for my mom because I no longer had the means nor a reason to stay away from home. 

There was an incident where my mom and I had been kicked out of the home my great-grandma had originally provided us when my parents divorced, so then I was responsible for working and paying rent in the new apartment we had found. This was not a happy time for her, but at least she had me, or so she would tell me. We were roommates and spent almost every free minute together. 

I was not happy in this environment. I had only ever lived in Oregon. I was working as an administrative assistant. I did not have the means to go anywhere or do much of anything, even though I was with my mom. I knew I wanted to leave. 

I wanted to be the one who broke the generational cycle that has persisted with the women in my family of staying in Oregon, marrying the first man who asked, and working secretarial jobs. I knew I needed to go to law school and do it out of state, if I was to have a happy life. 

Going to law school out of state meant that my mom could not afford to live in the apartment by herself. She ended up moving in with her parents, who cause her overwhelming stress. I am the happiest I have ever been while in law school. Unfortunately, my happiness has come at the cost of my mom's wellbeing. I know that she is the unhappiest she has ever been. Not because she's told me explicitly, but because I still serve as her substitute therapist. 

I talk to her multiple times a day, and each time I sit and listen to her speak of mistreatment and misery. She spends every waking hour at the beck and call of my grandparents. She never makes time for herself. She has told me that the only thing keeping her sane is the thought of moving to California with me someday. 

So yes, I have done what so many other first-gen students have done to seek more for myself and my family, yet I feel overwhelming guilt knowing that my happiness has been sought at the expense of my mom who has sacrificed so much for me. I've taken away my mom's free-time, her chance at a life she can be proud of, and her best friend. 

So am I really the reason my mom lives, or am I the reason that she gave up living in the first place?