Being a single mother changed my life for the best. Turned me into a fighter, a survivor, someone who would not accept defeat. Although, at the time my life was changing, I did not see the rewards until much later. All I knew is that I had just jumped another hurdle, and I was certain another one would soon be in sight.
So, when Aziza's father left us in that 3rd week of August 2002, when he said he was moving to New Orleans and would call me soon, I knew I was on my own when the $100 phone bill came in a month later with about 30 calls to Egypt. Low and behold, I discovered he had taken all of our money and purchased a plane ticket back to Egypt. I guess the appeal of coming back to see his daughter on weekends from NYC was not enticing enough. Fortunately, and I say that sarcastically, there was $50 left in the top dresser drawer. Fifty dollars and a 6-month old baby in an apartment that would require food for us, rent, electric, and phone payments. I knew no one and family was not in a position to assist with money - never had been really. So what do you think I did? Luckily, I still had the car and it was in my name. I thought ahead! There was definitely some writing on my wall.
My landlord's girlfriend came by to see me and ask if everything was okay. I told her I didn't know what to do. I didn't have a job, I didn't know anyone, and Aziza was just a baby. She said go on welfare. I was like "What is that?" For any of you who know me, you also know that I work for the Department of Social Services in Broome County. I remembered the first interview with my temporary assistance worker in Chemung County, thinking, "Hmmm... that looks like a good job, helping people." Life is full of irony.
What's my point? I was 32-years old, had just moved upstate from Astoria, Queens where I worked in NYC making $18-$20/hr. as an administrative assistant and before deciding to move, was offered a floater position in a big law firm, but I turned it down. I wanted to live in less chaos, traffic, pollution, and allow my daughter to ultimately attend an all English-speaking school. I know that sounds unfair but when the level of education suffers to accommodate myriad languages, I decided something different for us. So after being this person, who is more than capable of getting work and sustaining herself, here she was applying for cash assistance, food stamps, medical assistance, and thank God for the WIC Program (I never could have afforded baby formula without it). Five months later I finally found a job - low paying, as I learned wages do no translate well from one area of NY to another - and day care for Aziza (which is another whole story I will share later). We survived, I pulled us through it, and as challenging as it was, I'd do it all over again.
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