I Once Lived In A Car
Mindset is everything. Mind over matter. Think positive. We’ve all heard these statements before. But how do we really apply it? I’m sure we’ve all been through an event that, at the time, we thought was catastrophic. But somehow, we survived and moved past it. Life goes on, as they say. But somehow these experiences stay with us. We have the ability to choose how much impact they have on our future.
When I was around nine years old, I lived in a car with my mom, her boyfriend, and my younger sister. I say around nine because honestly, I don’t remember how old I was. I know I was in elementary school at Lincoln Elementary. I know it was after my parents’ divorce. My parents divorced due to domestic violence, but that’s a whole other story (one that I may never tell because I love my dad so much and he has always been there for me). My mom was a waitress, her boyfriend in construction. As a waitress, my mom made about 10K a year. As for her boyfriend, construction was a very unstable profession. All I remember was one day we were living in an apartment, the next day in a car. We continued the normal routine, my mom would drop my sister and I off at my aunt’s house at around 4:30 am, we’d go back to sleep and wake up in time to walk to school. After school, mom would pick us up (usually very late), and we’d head to Sand Island Beach Park. I know we probably ate a snack and dinner, but for some reason, all I can remember is that icy, cold shower and the cold metal toilets with no seats. Also, the dreadful roaches. “Why can’t we live with Nana (grandma)?” I’d ask mom. She never replied.
I think two or three months passed before we were living in an apartment again.
In hindsight, I really don’t remember much except the cold showers and being a little uncomfortable in the back seat of the car with my sister. I was the same me at school. Although I was always a very emotional and insecure person, I managed to put on a facade of confidence and pep. I overcompensated by talking too much and studying a lot so that at least I’d be smart and have answers to the teachers’ questions.
When I think of my childhood, I remember the violence, alcoholism, harsh words, and moving a lot. But I also think of fun summers on Lana’i island with my cousins and my Big Aunty, as we called her. Cleaning yard, going down to the harbor to get popsicles at the one store in town, making fake musical instruments, and playing in a “band” with my cousins. I also remember anxiously waiting at The Bus stop in Kalihi for the #50 bus which would take me on that two-hour-long bus ride to Waianae to visit my cousins. Many times my grandma was with me. Sometimes I rode the bus alone. All I needed was a quarter to ride the bus all the way to Waianae, and a transfer pass to get on the Waianae Valley shuttle. Sometimes they weren’t expecting me (we didn’t have cell phones back then), sometimes they weren’t home, and other times the house was so crowded there was no place to sit. It was a country house, almost a farm (with lots of animals running around), and I was a city girl who didn’t like bugs and dirt. I just enjoyed being with my cousins. They probably thought of me as the little pest that talked too much, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to be with them. My home was usually empty on the weekends. Mom and her boyfriend spent the weekend bowling and drinking with friends in the bars. Many times my sister and I would walk to the bowling alley and hang out with other kids. We’d play video games (if we could get money from our parents or their friends), or run around outside the alley.
But the thing is, my childhood experiences have shaped me into the person I am today. And it really wasn’t all bad. I applied myself in school and was a voracious reader. That was my escape. I was blessed to get into a private school in seventh grade which provided many opportunities and friendships for me. I made the most of the opportunities offered at my school and participated in sports, clubs, honors and AP classes, and was able to travel. l had wonderful teachers and counselors that encouraged me to strive for my dreams. I was able to attend college and earned a degree. I promised myself I’d provide a better life for my kids. Which I know I have. But I also hope that they appreciate the hardships and acknowledge the opportunities they have.
I have instilled in my children the desire to serve others. We regularly prepare food and go out into the community to share with homeless people. Because of my own experience, I cry every time we go. But my children love doing this small act of service. When I lived in a car it wasn’t because my mom did not work. She had a job but just didn’t make enough to pay rent and buy food. As I got older I discovered that my mom was so independent that she did not want to ask for help. She refused to go on government assistance or let other family members know our situation. My big dream is that one day, homelessness disappears. But for now, I hope that people stop judging and start caring. That people stop talking and start doing. Also, as a mom, I hope that all children recognize that life is good, that no matter what we are going through, there are always people who have it worse, and that however small it may be, kind acts go far. I hope that my kids will be survivors who push through life’s disasters and not only move past them but also learn from them. And always keep moving forward.
