#tuition

hello!

I haven’t posted here in a couple of years now. a lot of things have changed! I’m logging on now to ask for your help, if you’re willing to hear me out.

I was recently accepted to one of the top research universities in the world (U of Helsinki) to continue my studies as a graduate student. as a first-generation college student from a low-income family, I never imagined this could happen. I’ve worked incredibly hard to get here, including grinding in a full-time job though undergrad, but now I’ve found that I cannot afford tuition. please consider sharing and donating if you can! support your local queer latina!

https://gofund.me/7cc1a6bd

Help Martha Attend Graduate School, organized by Martha Madrid

I just want someone to invest in me becoming a reiki Master.

The program tuition is 995

Thank you, love you❣️

Christmas means a hell of a lot to me. Our photo albums contain, mainly, play-by-plays of at least three of them - taken before my sister and I decided we were no longer comfortable with the camera on Christmas morning. The pictures are out of a time were my anxiety, while existent, was not nearly as prominent as it is now. Panic attacks manifested only once every two to three months, though back then I didn’t know that was what they were. 

Those pictures contained everyone I loved most. They were before my dad would lose my trust and my heart. Before my sister stopped relating to my mom. Before I accepted what I already knew to be the truth about Santa. Before my cracked family finally shattered and slid across hardwood floors in all different directions.

Mom and I held it together for one year after my sister left. I put up the tree as soon as I could and, as per our unspoken rule, it was kept lit every moment of the season. Christmas Day, mom and I sat alone in the living room opening the few gifts that had been sprinkled in the cavity underneath the tree. 

The truth is, when you get older, the holidays are not the same. You don’t always make it home and, and if you have a mom like mine, there won’t be decorations in the house if you’re not coming. A few years ago, my extended family had a dirty habit of forgetting to invite me until two days before. Now that my dad isn’t in jail, they he won’t let them forget, but that’s a whole different box of awkward.

My favorite older Christmas I ever had was at my Uncle Max’s house. He was this pot bellied man, either reaching for the peak or at the top of the hill already - I never really confirmed age with him. He had a little guest cabin of sorts on his parent’s property and he invited everyone over for a little get together. Instead of giving traditional gifts, he gave scratchers - a cheap, but exciting alternative.

When Mom, Apa, and I got there, we were late, as per usual. Apa, my step-father, Phillip, was in late stages of Avascular Necrosis even then. I’ll explain more about that later, but basically parts of the bone in his hips had the texture of the inside of a malt ball that had gotten a little wet.

I left them in the car to make the rounds and assure everyone that Apa was there, he just needed a minute. 

Uncle Max found me and asked if I’d picked a gift yet. He directed me to the window sill where there were still five tickets left and told me to pick whichever one felt lucky. 

I meditated on it for a moment and picked a green one. He handed me a quarter and said “That’s yours. Now go for it." 

He disappeared down the staircase and outside to the fire. My cousin Glenn sat on the couch behind me on his phone as I scratched, not knowing the rules for the ticket entirely. 

$3

$10,000

$20

One by one I scratched.

$10,000

$3,000

$1

On second thought, I should have grabbed the Bingo one. I liked the Bingo one.

$30

$2

$10,000

"Oh my god.”

“What?" 

I had forgotten Glenn was there.

"Oh my god.”

“What??”

“I don’t know the rules.”

“Sadie, what?”

“I think I won ten thousand dollars.”

“Come here.”

I turned from the sill and went to the couch. He grabbed the ticket from my hands and studied the game board very carefully for a few minutes.

“Holy shit." 

"Did I win?”

“I think you did.” He said, “I get half for helping.”

“No, Glenn, that’s paying for my college.”

I’m not even kidding. These words came out of my mouth. Repeatedly. “I’m going to college!”

Nerd.

Also, ten thousand dollars for college? I was incredibly naive at sixteen. 

I grabbed the ticket from his hands and ran downstairs to the fire screaming “I’m going to college!" 

Max grabbed me by the hand and took the ticket from me. "No. No way.”

“Yes!" 

"I bought this. This is mine.”

I snatched it back. “It was a gift, bitch. Where’s Phil?”

“Still in the truck.” I hear from the other side of the fire. 

I have to explain to you here that with anxiety and depression factored into my life, I consider this the single most happy moment of my life. Who wouldn’t? Money was a fraction of the factor it had been only moments before. I have always been poor. I don’t think for more than a blink of an eye my mom ever made ten grand a year and she was the manager of three separate departments at Kmart for a good couple of years. 

This was a concentration of a full year’s salary at my mom’s peak year. This moment was the stress release of the century.

“Mom!” I yelled, running to the truck. “Phillip?!" 

I reached the passenger door on the Chevy and yanked it open. 

"What’s up, kid?” Apa asked.

I didn’t even breath. “I won ten grand! I’m going to college!”

My mom: “What?”

Max: *singing*

Phillip: “Let me see.”

I handed him the small rectangle of paper and he studied the game. He flipped the card and read carefully for a moment before pausing.

“You didn’t win, kid.”

Max: *singing* “I got a golden ticket! I got a golden ticket!

"What do you mean I didn’t win?”

“Read the back.”

 He hands me the ticket as Max starts to walk over from the fire. 

Winning tickets of 10,000 or more must submit claim form by mail. Claim forms supplied by Santa Clause. All winning tickets must be validated by the Tooth Fairy and conform to her game rules. Winning prizes may NOT be claimed anywhere, so forget about it! All winners are losers and must have an excellent sense of humor.

You would have thought my heart would have been absolutely crushed, what with Max shouting “I’m going to college!” and laughing himself to the ground.

No. “I hate you.” I said, laughing myself. “I hate you so much." 

He never apologized, he had no need, but he did give me a big hug goodbye that night. 

I spent weeks searching for something to get him back with. That search ended with an aneurysm. Did you think this would end happily?

He walked around the bay for a full day with a runny nose and a headache. He didn’t tell anyone. He didn’t complain. Good natured to the end.

My last Christmas with Max is still regarded as one of my favorite Christmases. It held all of the disillusionment of adulthood without any of the anxiety or disappointment. 

We still miss you, Max. Merry Christmas.

I owe you something not sad. Look at those nerds.