My mother blocked my number while I was living in my car with $4 to my name. It wasn’t cruelty. It was the only way to save the one life that actually depended on me.
I was twenty-five, but I was living like a teenager on summer break. I had a degree I wasn’t using, a mountain of excuses, and a “temporary” cash flow problem that had lasted three years. I was always one “lucky break” away from success, or so I told myself while playing video games at 2:00 PM on a Tuesday.
My enabler was my mother. She was a single mom who had worked double shifts to give me everything, and I repaid her by taking everything.
Then came the day I pushed too far. I asked for rent money again, but I’d already spent my own portion on a new gaming console. When I called her, expecting the usual lecture followed by a bank transfer notification, I got silence.
