Who is the woman behind the curtains?
Understanding my background and about my experiences, will make understanding the mission and intentions of Rana'sHopeAdvocates.
Im not just the advocate or the founder, but the woman shaped by profound loss, unwavering resilience, and a legacy born in the most unlikely of circumstances. My story, like many, is woven with threads of struggle and triumph, of heartbreak that carved out strength, and a deep understanding of what it means to rebuild, piece by painful piece.
My mother, a coal miner's daughter from Appalachia, couldn't read a word, but her life taught me lessons that no textbook ever could. She became pregnant with me at a young age, a desperate act to escape the unspeakable abuse she endured from the age of one. I was her tool, her way out of a terrifying cycle, and I understand now the immense courage that took.
I remember being in the 4th grade, sitting with her for hours, flipping flashcards and reading to her as she studied for her CNA. As a child, I just wanted to help my mom; as an adult, I understand those long evenings were her fight for a better life for us, a relentless effort to shed the weight of her past. She worked tirelessly, hiding an active meth addiction that I wouldn't fully grasp until I began using drugs myself, after my own father kicked me out onto the streets. Her addiction was a silent battle, one she fought every day after leaving her second abusive husband, working tirelessly to provide.
Growing up, I was surrounded by strong, independent women – my mother, my grandmothers, aunts. All of them had suffered physical and sexual abuse, most battled addiction, but they were tougher than nails. Regardless of the immense luggage they carried, they still managed to raise their babies and give good lives to their children. They were my role models for fierce female resilience.
My understanding of men, however, came from a different kind of wound. My father, unlike the women in my life, came from a background free of trauma, abuse, or addiction; his parents were married until death. Yet, he chose other women over his children and abandoned us, just as he did me. To say I'm "lucky" because I was never physically hit or abused as a child feels almost offensive, because people who haven't endured these violations in childhood are a small minority. My experience taught me that trauma isn't always physical, and that abandonment can cut just as deep.
Then, my ex-husband, the father of my boys, gave me something profoundly different. He provided a safe place to grow, a foundation of knowledge and peace. No matter what challenges we faced, he consistently put our children's well-being before his own and mine. Because of my unique background and the lessons learned, I've had only three relationships in my entire life.
During the first 11 years of my marriage, I focused on catching up to my peers, despite the immense obstacles of growing up in poverty. This was a period where I was also diagnosed with Bipolar 1, which presented after my first child was born. We started out homeless, utilizing Section 8, and through counseling, local resources, and my ex-husband's education and degree obtainment, we successfully rose from poverty. After those 11 years, we effectively shed our reliance on programs like Medicaid, food stamps, Section 8, and other government assistance. Our family of four was then considered middle income, entirely without outside government aid. It was a testament to breaking cycles and building a stable foundation for my boys.
We hadn't seen my mother for ten years. She lived with a shame that kept her distant, feeling that my ability to break cycles and raise my boys well only highlighted her own struggles. Then, I got the call: she had cancer. I dropped everything, drove back to Arizona, and my eldest son came with me. While I cared for her, he worked on getting his GED.
I’ll never forget walking into her hospital room. Her eyes, filled with a fleeting relief at seeing me, quickly clouded with shame. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I was a bad mom." The words caught in my throat, but I replied, "Mama, I have never been ashamed. I’m proud of you. I did all of this for you. All the abuse you endured since you were one year old… my success would only honor you." Tears streamed down her face. I brought her home, and two weeks later, she died in my arms, just shy of her 60th birthday.
The day she died, as she took her last breaths, I saw unconditional love in her eyes. People who've had that kind of parental love will never truly grasp its profound depth, or how lucky they are to have a parent who never gives up, even if that support is unhealthy. Knowing you're disposable to everyone forces a self-reliance that can be beyond healthy, sometimes to your own detriment. But in that moment, as her weary bones finally stopped hurting, my mother understood unconditional love, and so did I.
Fourteen days later, my son, who had quietly achieved his GED during that time, passed away from sepsis. He earned that diploma, but he never got to walk across the stage.
These are the profound experiences that shaped me. They are the roots of Rana's Hope Advocates, and the fuel behind every effort we make here in Whatcom County. My own journey through intergenerational poverty, addiction's shadow, and the unimaginable grief of losing my son, has forged in me an unyielding commitment to foster hope and resilience in others. I am here to share not just knowledge, but a lived understanding of what it takes to break cycles, heal from trauma, and find your own path forward.here to add text.
Add comment
Comments