Stress Me Out


My life and how I view it has changed quite drastically over the last few years.

Before, I had things really well. My family was wealthy (upper middle class), and to keep it short, I had quite the ego about  it.

But things have changed, I’ve been humbled and seen the world from a different place.

I live with my grandparents, have separated parents, and while my birth-father is still upper middle class, I’ve separated myself from him and he doesn’t support me or my lifestyle anymore. My mom does now, and she reentered the workforce after being a stay-at-home mother for 18 years, but after less than a year, she has a job and earned the position as a manager selling mattresses on the west coast.

She makes enough to support her three children and boyfriend, but there isn’t much left over after the living cost. To say I’m proud of her is an understatement, because just thinking about how hard she has worked and what she achieved in such short time brings me to tears. I say these things because I don’t want to seem ungrateful for what she has done, but because I can’t hide from how I feel or lie about it.

I am jealous of my friends. The ones who live in better school districts, who have been born into households of wealth (more than I had before), the ones who don’t have to think twice about the cost of groceries or worry about college money.

I’m primarily jealous because I won’t ever have that as a teenager – if I ever grow wealthy as an adult, I won’t have the opportunity to buy a nice (in effect expensive) dress for prom, or get up to a nice house that doesn’t smell of dirty animals and dust. I wouldn’t be labeled an abandoned kid when I go to school and no parents or guardians show up to my school meetings. I wouldn’t worry about medical bills or if I ask too much from my mom.

I could actually be a teenager, I would be allowed to have a childhood.

That’s why I’m jealous of my wealthy friends, that’s why I rewatch their snapchat stories and try and find flaws in their houses, because I am angry that they get to be kids. I’m angry that they don’t have to stress over the things that I do. If my only problems were relationship and school ones, things would feel like such a breeze.

I wish that I had money, not to flaunt it, but to eliminate the stress of asking too much from my mom, of worrying about college, about my future, about court and medical bills, about dentist appointments, paying for food and gas.

I just want to be a kid, to sleep well at night, to wake up and want to get out of bed. I want to feel free of stress.


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