If it wasn’t for my kids
If it wasn’t for my kids
Good night Bahama Drama, please keep me anonymous. Sometimes you have to share your pain behind a curtain, because the world can be quick to judge when you’re going through something hard. I’m writing because I know I’m not the only one struggling, and maybe my story can show someone out there that they’re not alone.
I’m a single mother of 8 children. I’m 43 years old, working two jobs, and I braid hair on the side. The money from my two jobs covers the rent and bills, and the little I make from braiding goes straight to school lunches and uniforms for the five who are still in school.
My oldest son got himself in trouble a few years ago with a murder charge. The judge denied him bail, and to this day I know in my heart he didn’t do it. Their father was deported six years ago after being caught with drugs, and because his papers weren’t straight, he can’t return to The Bahamas. After serving his sentence, they sent him to the detention center and shipped him out. Since then, I’ve had no real support.
For years I tried going to Social Services, but the endless paperwork, the questions, and the way they pry into your life it made me feel like the little they gave wasn’t worth the stress. My family? Too much gossip. I’d rather go without than put my business in their mouths.
Truth is, sometimes the load feels so heavy I think about giving up about leaving this world and taking my kids with me. But every time I get close, I hear a voice whisper, Debra, I’m with you. That whisper gives me the strength to push one more day.
Nassau is rough with high rent and high light bills every month. I used to have a friend who would help sometimes, but he got locked up for armed robbery last year. His people from the islands stopped updating me, so I left that alone too.
All I pray for every night is for life to get a little easier for a single mom like me. I know I sound like a broken record to God, but it’s the prayer that keeps me going. I love this country, and I love my children more than life itself. But I’m scared. I’m scared one day the fight will drain me dry, and I won’t have the strength to carry on.
Bahama Drama, I share this with you because I know you’ve walked through pain yourself. You told us before about the days you slept outside, hungry, when you were homeless. About that night in Cat Island when they poisoned your drink and left you for dead, and the Holy Spirit brought you back to life. People know your struggle, and that’s why I believe you’ll understand mine. Tonight, I just need a reason to keep going.
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My sister, the Father is your strength, and He sees every tear you’ve cried and every sacrifice you’ve made. What looks like struggle to you is courage to the rest of us.
You are raising 8 children, working two jobs, hustling on the side, and doing it without public assistance or family support. That is not ordinary that is extraordinary. That kind of strength doesn’t come from the world. That comes from God, and His power is alive in you.
You may feel tired, but even in your tiredness you’re still standing, still providing, still loving. That’s not weakness that’s proof of the warrior spirit inside of you. You are the definition of a superwoman.
Hold on. Your story is not over, and your prayer has not gone unheard. Sometimes the fight itself is the testimony, and your children are living proof of your victory single day.
When you feel like giving up, remember this: you’ve already survived the days you thought you couldn’t. That same God who carried you then will carry you again…
