25 profound stories from 'Humans of Macomb County'

“I’ve been on my own since the age of twelve. My mom decided that her drug-dealing boyfriend was more important than me. One night I came home from playing and the key wouldn’t turn. I started banging on the door but nobody answered. I lived with friends for the next few years. I went from house to house, couch to couch. My friend’s mom was a bartender so she got me a job washing dishes. I saved enough money to get a car when I turned sixteen, and I drove out to Arizona. I was pregnant by the time I was twenty-one. My son changed my life. I didn’t turn into Mother Theresa overnight. I had to unlearn everything I’d ever known. I had to learn how to do things the right way, not sell drugs, not cut corners. Right now I’m trying to finish college while being a single mother. I’m taking care of my eighty-three year old grandmother. I just beat cancer for the second time in four years. But things seem to be quiet now. I’m always holding my breath, though. The story of my life has been the calm before the storm.”

“My ninety-year-old mother just moved in with us. So I’ve become a full time caretaker. I’m all she’s got. My father passed away and I’m her only child. So I’m it. Right now she has a lot of negativity. She seems to fixate on the negative side of things. If I suggest going outside, she’ll say it’s too cold. If I suggest that we go shopping, she’ll say there’s too much traffic. She wants her independence, but when she has it, she gets lonely. It’s hard for me. Because I’m a positive person by nature. And it’s hard to deal with so much negative energy. My husband is worried about me. He thinks it’s too much to deal with. I have a family, a life, and a business. But I’d be even more of a wreck if I put her in assisted living. I need to know for sure that she’s getting the proper care. Because for all her negativity, my mother always taught us respect. Respect your toys. Respect your parents. Respect other people. Respect their property. Respect is the basis for everything. Without it, everything falls apart."

“This was supposed to be a regular “hi mom” visit. It was my first time coming home in five years. I was expecting my mother to pick me up from the airport, but my sister-in-law was there when I landed. She told me that my mother was in the hospital. She was bleeding internally and had a blood clot in her leg. Right after we arrived, two surgeons sat me down, and told me they needed a decision immediately. They’d given my mother eleven units of blood and they wanted to amputate her leg and give her a colonoscopy bag. At first I asked if we could do nothing. But then I told them to go ahead and do it. And I think I made the wrong decision. She’s recovering now, and it’s becoming apparent that she’ll never be able to do basic things by herself. And I know my mother. She’s a very independent woman. She rakes her own leaves and blows the snow off her own driveway. She wouldn’t want to live like this. She’d never say this to me, but I think she feels that I let her down.”

“All the bosses care about is getting the job done. So if you have a good work ethic, the work falls on you more. The bosses know that it’s easier to push a good worker than it is to get a bad worker to do their job. It’s the path of least resistance. Especially when the boss happens to be friends with the bad workers. It used to really bother me. I couldn’t stand the injustice of it. But I’ve had to learn to let it go. I was bringing the stress home with me. I’d get mad at little things and slam drawers. I was even having rage dreams. I abhor violence, but I was having dreams where the boss would criticize my work and my hands would go around his neck. So I had to learn to let it go. I used to really care about the job. But I’ve had to just start viewing it as a paycheck.”

“We’ve been together for twenty years. I’ve never dated anyone else. But there’s no intimacy. There’s no ring on the finger. He doesn’t even want his family to know we’re together. Maybe it’s my weight. Maybe it’s a status thing. But he keeps me away from his family. I accidentally sat by his sister at a basketball game, and his jaw nearly dropped to the floor. We’ve only made love once. That was twelve years ago. He won’t kiss me or touch me. I’ve just stopped asking. But he insists that we’re in a relationship. He got mad when I tried to change my relationship status to ‘single.’ He got on my computer and changed it back. I didn’t even know that he knew my password. I told myself that I was OK with it. I told myself that I’m OK with not being touched. But I don’t think I am. I recently went to a therapist for the first time. I was so scared he’d find out that I parked my car next door. But maybe it would be good if he found out. Maybe he’d leave me and give me a chance.”

“We didn’t expect to be raising our granddaughter. We used to talk about moving to the country when we retired. Now we talk about moving to the best school districts. I’m working as much as I can. I worry every day that something will happen to us before she’s grown. I’m going to the gym more. I’m trying to stay healthy. I’m enrolled in a special savings program for her college education. I’ve been adding money to it since the day she was born. Because if something happens to me, the amount doubles.”

“I grew up in the suburbs. I used to think that I could write a prescription for a poor man: ‘Get a job, save your money, pull yourself up by the bootstraps.’ I don’t believe that anymore. I was ignorant to the experiences of poor people. I’d invite anyone to come and meet the people who live in this neighborhood. Right now we are surrounded by working poor people. These are the people who sell your tools at Sears, and fix your roofs, and take care of your parents, and mow your lawns, and serve your meals. They’re not getting a living wage. There’s no money left to save. There’s nothing left if they get sick. Nothing left if their car breaks down. And God forbid they make a mistake, because there’s nothing left to pay fines or fees. When you’re down here, the system will continue to kick dirt in your face. You can’t pull yourself up when there’s nothing to grab onto. We aren’t paying our brothers and sisters enough to live. We want them to serve us, but we aren’t serving them.”