Coming from a divorced family, I learned to be independent at a young age. When I was four, the court awarded my father custody of my younger brother and me. A single parent who needed full-time work, our father sent us to live with our grandparents. Not long after we’d settled down in their home, though, they made it clear that they were deeply unhappy with me, solely because I wasn't the male child they had hoped for. Rather than the privilege of experiencing a “warm and loving family,” I grew up with a family who despised me because I was female.

I vividly recall the frequent family gatherings my grandparents used to host, especially around the holidays. These gatherings would include two of my uncles and four of my cousins. Family gatherings are supposed to be happy events that you looked forward to, but for me, it was a nightmare. During these gatherings, my grandparents would shower my cousins with love and affection, leaving me sidelined and ignored. It became painfully clear that, because I was not a boy, my worth in my grandparents’ eyes had greatly diminished.

From a very young age, I had always been a stubborn person, so the more they disliked me the more determined I was to prove to them that I was not less of a person compared to a male. And yet, as my grandparents repeatedly treated me as a worthless burden over time, I slowly became numb. Meanwhile, my cousins, influenced by our grandparents’ biased treatment, began to harbor negative feelings towards me. They, too, started treating me with disdain on the basis of our grandparents’ disdain. Whenever my cousins came to visit, they drew a target on my back. They’d push me around by using force, verbal assault, humiliation. To make matters worse, I became their emotional dumping ground, the scapegoat for everything that was going wrong in their lives. Additionally, it was clear to me that neither my father nor my brother had ever cared for my well-being. Fully aware of how terribly my grandparents treated me, my father knew that I was being bullied by my cousins. And yet, instead of intervening to prevent further harm from happening, he just stood and watched as I was repeatedly assaulted. Eventually, my entire dad’s side of the family hated me.

Of all my relatives, only my mother wanted to help me. As soon as she heard about the bullying, she booked a flight to see us that very day. Despite the distance, she always managed to offer support and lift my spirits. But soon, in addition to badmouthing me, my grandparents also began to badmouth my mother. Despite the unwavering generosity my mother provided, one morning, I awoke without my mother by my side. I went and asked my grandparents where had she gone and they responded by lying straight to my face, accused my mother of abandoning us for a new home. In truth, they had kicked her out of the apartment, leaving her homeless. Eventually, to secure a living, my mother had to relocate to another state. Despite these circumstances, she tried her best to stay in our lives, visiting me and my brother at least once a month. While most of these visits were short—less than a day, in fact— they still gave me some of my fondest childhood memories.

Family gatherings are supposed to be happy events that you looked forward to, but for me, it was a nightmare.

Although she never stopped caring for us during those years, I still often overlooked the sacrifices and love my mother showered upon my brother and me. I still harbored a constant desire for the quintessentially loving family. Marshall Curry’s short film, The Neighbors’ Window, beautifully depicts this experience of longing for something more, while overlooking one’s surrounding blessings. The film’s central characters, residing across the street from a vibrant, younger couple, became captivated by their neighbors’ seemingly perfect life. Later on, as the story unfolds, it becomes clear that appearances can be deceiving, and the grass isn't always greener on the other side. I was amazed by how well the film portrayed the idea of yearning for something seemingly unattainable while failing to appreciate the treasures already presented in our lives. Upon watching this film, I realized that, even though I never had a warm and loving family, my mom had always tried to find ways of making up for that.

Indeed, both me and my brother cherished all the visits with her; they offered a stark contrast to the cold and unwelcoming atmosphere at my grandparents’ home. That unwavering love and support gave me not only the motivation to continue on life’s journey but also a guiding light that helped me arrive at adulthood.  In addition to filling me with love, warmth, and the genuine care during her visits, my mother also taught me how to take care of my brother. She also ensured that I had the means to meet my basic needs, providing m with an allowance to make sure I wasn’t starving, bringing me a phone to contact her if anything happened, and making the effort to attend our school events. Furthermore, she taught me how to be financially independent, since, unlike other kids, I didn't have the luxury of spending my allowance freely. Focused on saving up money to move out, I began looking for job offers when I was twelve. By creating a checking account under my name, my mother gave me a safe spot to store money without the risk of my grandparents finding out. Eventually, I saved enough to rent a place of my own. My mother taught me that, if I ever desire something in life, I need to be the driving force behind its attainment.

I am forever grateful for the things my mother has done for me. Despite her not always being by my side physically, she has always been by my side mentally. If it wasn’t for guidance and support, I can’t imagine how my life’s journey would have unfolded. Though it began in a challenging environment, that journey has forged me into a stronger and more independent individual. Despite my enduring desire for a loving and nurturing family, The Neighbors’ Window serves as a poignant metaphor underscoring the importance of appreciating what I already have.