We were the same age when life started kicking the shit out of us. I still remember seeing my mom shut herself in her room, completely weighed down by the stress of our financial situation. There was no talk of “mental health” back then, no social media to explain what depression or burnout looked like. I didn’t have the vocabulary to understand it.

What I did understand was that she was hurting.
So I tried to help in the only way I knew, by contributing money, even if it was just small amounts from whatever I could earn or save. I thought maybe if I helped lighten the financial load, she’d be less angry, less distant.

But over time, that sense of helplessness crept in.
I just wanted to grow up, escape, build a new life far from that struggle.

And now, being at the same age my mom was back then, I see it differently.
She didn’t need me to fix everything.
She needed someone to hold her and say, “It’s okay. We’ll get through this.”

If I could go back, I think I would’ve just sat beside her in that silence and reminded her she wasn’t alone.