A winning essay from our Brighter Future Scholarship contest

The jingling of my mother’s key at 5 a.m. has been my alarm clock ever since I was ten years old. When I opened my eyes and made my way to the kitchen, she was gone. My mother was addicted to working and was always looking for just that little bit more money, so that the forthcoming check would bring peace to our household for once and for all. She was addicted to something that was not physical, yet destructive to her physical being, and it consumed her time, her vitality, and her presence. She believed that the more she worked, the more comfortable and stable our household could be. But never did she consider that working, and working, and working was accumulating just as much of an emptiness that money was never going to fill. 

Initially, I didn’t comprehend why she was constantly absent. I would wait up for her on the couch, anticipating that she’d walk so we could see a show or have supper together. I would fall asleep on the majority of nights before she came back home. On the weekends, rather than sleeping, she’d work additional shifts. I recall asking her why she couldn’t stay for just one day, and she would yawn and state, “One day I will, but not yet.” Those words have been retained in my head because “not yet” appeared to linger indefinitely. 

As I got older, I could see why she was so consumed. She had experienced poverty and was trying to shield me from having to experience what she had to. When she was just 11, her dad died, and her mother did not have enough money to care for her, so she took her out of school and homeschooled her. Each working hour of hers was, in her eyes, doing it for love. But in trying to save our future, our present was passing us by. Family dinners became microwaved suppers, phone calls turned to brief check-ins via text, and her laugh was just part of faded memories from long ago. 

My mother’s money addiction both hurt and benefited me. Negatively, I felt occasionally lonely and invisible. I wanted more of her support, even if I felt lost and confused. Positively, however, her ambition also gifted me with the traits of resilience, independence, and hard work. Witnessing her work, even if she was tired, made me see that talent is not sufficient for being successful, perseverance is key. She had taught me the value of being serious, even when no one is staring at you and cheering for you. 

This has completely altered my own understanding of addiction. I thought addiction was only associated with destructive chemicals, but I’ve had to discover that it can also mean an addictive relationship to habits, objectives, or even values. Money was my mother’s addiction, and it was based on wanting to keep our family stable. My dad could not work as a result of a stroke, and so my mother was the only one providing for the family. It opened my eyes to see that addiction is not necessarily about being weak, but occasionally it’s from caring too much or working too hard to do the impossible. 

Having this scholarship would amount to more than money. It would relieve my mom of the stress that she bears day in and day out and let her sleep better at night knowing that I am taken care of. It would also mean that I could concentrate on my studies and my plans for the future without having to feel that I need to emulate her survival hustle nonstop. Above all, it would be opening the door to getting off the cycle, getting to that place of balance that’s life beyond ambition and towards peace. My mom instilled in me the value of hard work, but her life also taught me another just-as-significant lesson: life’s more than the money that we make. It’s more like the kind of life that we spend our days and nights coming home to, and the time that we make for each other in our busy days and busy lives. 

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