A Journey Through Generational Change
I think my mom was not happy in her 40s.
When we moved from Brazil to California, she had just turned 40, and her emotions were a tumultuous blend of anger, sadness, loneliness, frustration, and resentment.
The only moments I saw genuine happiness on her face were during our shopping trips. In Brazil, luxuries like purses and shoes were out of reach, but here in California, we could find them at affordable places like Marshall's, Mervin's, and Ross Dress for Less.
This monumental move was overwhelmingly traumatic for her. She had lost all hope to see any possibility of happiness on the horizon.
She left a life as an executive assistant to my uncle - a state representative - to a routine of cleaning houses as a helper, earning 40% commission.
It felt as though she had buried her own aspirations “to give her daughters a chance at better lives,” the mantra she often repeated.
Her sacrifices echoed loudly in my heart, filling me with guilt, sadness, and a fierce determination to make things better. I pretended to be happy, hoping to alleviate her pain. I went out with friends to distract myself from her sorrow. My sisters and I helped in every way we could around the house - doing laundry, cooking, and cleaning - all to lighten her load.
In her frustration, she often blamed my father for the life she was living.
She had chosen a partner who brought love and emotional security but lacked financial stability. Born into a broken marriage and raised by an aunt, she valued commitment over wealth. Her fear of abandonment guided her choice in marriage. To her, it was more important that he stayed by her side than to have financial riches. But after our move, as the weight of financial insecurity pressed down on her, resentment towards my father grew.
I see echoes of her choices in my own marriage.
I chose a partner who promised love and stability, yet lacked the freedom I never knew I craved. I prioritized this stability, having witnessed firsthand the chaos that can come from emotional instability.
Raised in a home that emphasized emotional support at all costs—because anything was better than abandonment—I felt fortunate to find someone who was consistent and present. My fear of chaos guided my choice in marriage. However, when I began to desire change, which often accompanies instability, it became a challenge for my husband.
Was I following in my mother's footsteps?
The short answer is no. While my mother renounced her career as a social worker to prioritize her daughters, believing she could not have both a fulfilling career and a family, I am taking a different path.
In my 40s, I am embracing risk in pursuit of significant rewards rather than blaming my own circumstances on my husband who, providentially, shifted his career before me from a chef to a real estate agent. This transition required him to navigate instability and brought the freedom we both learned to love.
I am not sacrificing my career for my family; I have learned that I can pursue both.
My newfound belief is that I am capable of prioritizing my daughter's future alongside my own.
Together with my husband, we are committed to providing our child with love, emotional security, financial stability, and opportunities for wealth creation—all at once.
All of it is possible. Available. Existent. Part of our lives. Inevitable.
I am immensely grateful for therapy, coaching, and above all, MY MOM. I didn't break the mold—SHE did.
Though she didn't believe in the possibility of changing her patterns, she dedicated her time, energy, and resources to ensure her daughters had the chance to choose differently.
In essence, because of my mother, I have been afforded the opportunity to prioritize both my career and my family's future.
I do it for her, for myself, for my daughter, and for the generations yet to come.
