We were as poor as it gets. Our survival depended largely on government assistance and anything I could muster up in tips as a waitress. Erik had school during the week, so I had to be there to take care of the kids. So, instead, I worked longer shifts on the weekends.

Move faster, I need to take bigger sections. Make them laugh. If they laugh, they will give you a bigger tip. Not fast enough, you can’t make your customers wait. Volunteer to stay later, as late as you can. Even if it means working twenty hours straight, give it your all.

This is all you’re worth, all you can give, all you can do. So do better. The kids need clothes. They need school supplies. They deserve the world at their feet, so make it happen. Even if it breaks you.

I climbed three stories to our apartment late at night. I snuck in, peering into the twins’ bedroom. Evan laid on the top bunk, snoaring loudly. Kaylee slept quietly, her bottom lifted above her head. I sighed with relief and silently closed the door. I collapsed in bed next to Erik, not even bothering to take off my apron. “I made eight hundred dollars today,” I smiled meekly.

“Wow, that’s great. Maybe we can actually pay off some of these past due bills,” Erik said, rolling over to hold me.

“Maybe we can afford to do something fun next week? I feel like all I do is work lately.”

“I’m sorry, love, but even with everything you made, we are still completely broke.”

Harder, I need to work harder. This can’t be my kids’ lives.

“If anyone wants me to do their sidework, I’ll do it for twenty dollars!”

More, it still isn’t enough. Work the overnight shifts and carry more on every tray. You’re strong. Use that to your advantage. 

“Lovey, I made twelve hundred today! Maybe we could all go out and do something next week as a family?”

“I’m sorry, love, but we are three months behind on our power bill and two on the internet. We won’t have anything left once I pay those off with rent.”

Why can’t you just do this for them? Why can’t you provide for them in the way they deserve? You need to do better. You can’t let their lives be this mundane.

My feet begin to hurt, and my back begins to crumple. Ignore it. It’s only been a year of this. You can keep going. You can give them a better life.

I stumble into our apartment, trash has steadily begun to build up along the floors, and dishes surround the sink. This is pathetic. You’re failing them.

Two years pass, and I can no longer make it up the stairs on my own. When I walk, I walk on the very sides of my feet, wading through garbage.

You’re so pathetic, it would be better if the state just took the kids. Maybe then… they would have a good life.

No, I can’t give up. I have to keep going.

“Mama, can we go to the park?” Kaylee asks.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Mommy can’t walk today, and Daddy has the car.”

“Hey,” Erik says when he comes home, “Im going out for sushi with a couple of my classmates on Friday, so I’ll be out late.”

“Oh, that sounds fun! Can we come with you?” I ask.

“Sorry, it’s not really the kind of thing I would want to bring the kids to.”

“Oh, right. Of course. Well, I hope you have lots of fun,” I try to make my smile look genuine.

Three years pass, I can no longer stand up straight without immense pain and begin to walk with a hunch below my neck. The apartment only gets messier and messier. The doctors tell me that if this continues, I’ll find myself in a wheelchair.

I can’t just stop working. My family would have nothing. If I died right now, Erik’s family would step in. They wouldn’t let him live like this. They would all be better off if I just disappeared. But…if I did…would the kids blame themselves?

I get frustrated and clean the entire apartment in one night. After all, sleepless nights were something I was more than used to. Besides, it wasn’t the first time I’d spent all night cleaning. I couldn’t just let the kids grow up in that dump.

When I’m finally done, I’m kneeling at the sink finishing the last couple of dishes. Unable to walk any further, my legs and knees became bruised and battered as I crawled my way through the apartment. My legs couldn’t take it anymore, so I decided to leave the last few dishes for later.

I ran into Erik on my way to bed, “Erik, can you just help with the dishes? It’s the only thing I couldn’t finish. I just…can’t.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll do it later,” he says.

“Right… okay,” it wasn’t the first time I’d heard that.

When I wake up for work three hours later, I notice the dishes are still piled up. Panic rises into my throat. I had no time to do them. I had to get to work. And when I got home there would be even more. And Erik would have trash all around his chair. And the kids will have made a mess that went completely ignored. And I’ll barely be able to move, but everyone will blame me if it’s not done. They’ll treat me like a child, like I’m the reason Erik is failing his classes. Like I’m…useless.

I can’t breath. Tears stream down my face. I rush out the door, hiding myself from Erik. Calm down, he said he would help this time.

When I get home, I crawl my way up the stairs. With every step, I was positive my feet would finally break. I slowly opened the door, carefully peering around the corner. Everything is as I predicted. The trash had gotten full, so no one took it out. Instead, there was trash all around it, on the floor and boxes of opened packages and mail surrounded Erik’s desk. Someone had spilled cereal, and it remained, dripping from the counter onto the floor. Clothes had been taken out of the laundry basket and thrown down the entire stretch of the hallway. In addition to the dishes from last night, there were now more. Some were still full of food and thrown in the sink.

My body trembled, the aches and pains from the long night of cleaning and the following ten hours running at work raged throughout me. It would take hours to clean this all up. Perhaps another all-nighter.

I noticed the knife block to the side of the sink. Inside, I imagine the glimmering sharp blades. It would be so easy to take one. No one had even noticed I was home.

I imagined the blade running down the length of my wrist, the pleasurable sting of pain distracting me from the aches that far exceeded it. I imagined my body growing cold as I became more and more sleepy. For years, all I wanted was sleep. Now, I would never have to wake up again. It would feel like a sweet release. I pictured it so vividly I could almost feel it.

“Mommy, why are you crying?” Kaylee was looking at me from the living room, and I quickly realized tears were streaming down my cheeks.

“Oh, Mommy just had a long day,” I tell her. I pick her up and hold her close, and all together, I begin to sob. I could never feel that release. I could never hurt my kids that way. Not like my Dad had hurt me. I would remain trapped, so they would never have to wonder why I didn’t love them enough to stay.

“What’s wrong?” Erik asks, a small frown curling his lips.

Does he really not know? “Nothing, just hurting a lot today,” I sob, shaking. I was far too tired to start an argument.

Erik sat down next to me to hold me close, “How about we go out and do something fun next week? Don’t worry about the money. What kinds of things would you like to do?”

“I… don’t remember anymore.”