2023 was a hectic year—my family moved across the country for the third time, it was the tenth year anniversary of my dad’s passing, and it was the year my mama was diagnosed with stage three breast cancer. Two weeks before September 1st, the day I lost my dad in a four-wheeler accident in 2013, my mama found an obtrusive lump on her chest. When she came home with her diagnosis and a scheduled mastectomy, I was immediately researching survival rates as she read worst-case scenarios. Then the next day, she went to work. A widow of ten years with four children, my mama rarely had any time to do anything except drive my siblings and me around and work. In the months leading up to her finding the tumor, she worked every day, leaving after sunrise and coming home in the middle of the night. Then in the two months until her surgery, she continued to work and work and work—all for her children. She has always given her all for me, something I continually take for granted but have always seen. I can confidently say that the singular person who has inspired me to be the independent and hardworking person I am today is my mama. I see her as the epitome of dedication and love, perseverance, and empathy. Children often idealize their parents and come to expect impractical perfection. But for many years now I have recognized my mama’s human flaws, from excessive tardiness to unhealthy smoking habits. Seeing the effects of these less savory habits steered me away from them, encouraging me to live a healthier life. More recently, my mama’s cancer journey made me recognize my own flaws, senses of vainness and selfishness that I hadn’t noticed until those nasty habits hurt the person most important to me. When chemo treatments began to physically change my mama, I often found myself feeling uncomfortable looking at her sickly appearance. This was an emotion I quickly realized she felt at herself, and I was disgusted with myself for being more concerned about my comfort than the health and emotions of the woman who was actively working through chemo treatments to feed me. Through this self-reflection, I recognized my deterrence towards empathy. It was easier for me to focus on myself than to even try to comprehend the physical and mental battles my mama was going through. When this ultimately blew up in an argument that left her in tears and me feeling detached, I knew I had to get over myself. As my mama fought cancer, I fought the egotistical mindsets I had held so that I could learn to support her in the ways she supports me. In the end, after months of chemo and radiation that ended in June of 2024, my mama finished the most painful parts of her cancer treatment, but I was, and still am, using these experiences to continue to grow into a person who isn’t only hardworking but also caring. Luckily for me, I still have my role model in the bedroom across from me.