One of my proudest accomplishments is the possession of a college education. Nobody else in my family line had gone to university in well over a century, but I went and received a world class political science education from some of the most renown scholars in the field.

Ultimately I'm just another over-educated millennial working a job in an office, albeit with a great number of perks, but I didn't pursue an education in order to pursue riches. I wanted the treasure of that scholarship, that learning, that citizenship that an education promised. And I feel I've gotten that in spades.

My Dad was very technically oriented. He wanted me to be an engineer, as he saw it as an extension of his technical work, but couldn't quite grasp the imagination that higher learning instills as well as requires. It wasn't until I demonstrated some deep game theory and social engineering that he started to understand just how wonderful a liberal arts education can be.

But he didn't help me learn it. He was a very learned man, spending most of his time with his nose in books, always a student of history and politics himself, but he was not a scholar. He was not studious. School was in many ways extremely challenging for me throughout most of my life specifically because I had never been shown how one studies.

Except I had. When I was at community college and decided to take it extremely seriously, I poured myself into my studies in a way my Dad had never been able to. I liked to think that it was just my absolute force of will, but it was really because of my Mom.

I don't talk too much about my Mom for a lot of reasons. I've always had a strained relationship with her due to her mental illnesses on top of her neurodivergence. She is an extremely wonderful person when she is not upset, but unfortunately she is usually upset.

She has trouble understanding anything technical, and struggles to be terribly capable with many things most people take for granted. Some of that comes from her illness, a lot of it comes from the misogyny of our culture and my Dad's own need to be the one in control. It's been extremely difficult to help her learn how to be on her own.

I discount her a lot because of all that. And a lot of that is about my history with her and I spend a great deal of my energy trying to understand why everything happened the way it did and trying to forgive her. My Dad always told me that my Mom is an innocent person, and she is. Perhaps she is the most innocent, like the way a child can be cruel with no intended maliciousness.

But she is where I get my social confidence from. She's the one who encouraged me to carry myself any way I wanted, the one who showed me how to speak to anyone and to be the center of attention whenever I wanted.

More importantly though, she's the one who taught me how to study. She went to college for the same reason I did, to improve herself and become more worldly, not to make more money.

When I was 5 or 6, she started going to community college to get better at English. She fell in love with the tales of King Arthur and she wrote little fairy tales. She had these long treatises on why Lancelot sucked, and could tell stories that would be both fantastical and wondrous. But to get to that point, she had to drill down.

She spent all her time writing, practicing, reading, every minute of the day that wasn't dedicated to living (or taking care of me) was spent in her room studying. My Dad had to come sleep in my room because she was up at any possible hour studying. Her space was covered in piles and piles and piles of papers, all covered in her writing. She was just so in love with English Cursive, she thought it was the prettiest writing in the world and she wanted to master it. And she did, over many many hours over many many days.

When I decided to become a scholar, I didn't know where to start. I am a California beach bum in spirit, more made to look pretty on the sand than poring over tomes in some library somewhere. So the day, the very day I decided to become the best student I could be, I looked to my Mom's example. I wrote down every single thing and I memorized it all. I drilled down, my days becoming planned out for every minute.

I'm not so sure how healthy it was, ultimately. I mean, I am proud of my education, and someday when perhaps I don't feel the boot to my neck from a civilization obsessed with misdirected rage I'll continue it. But I tore myself apart to be a scholar, and so did my Mom.

She's proud of her education. Most people think at first that her English isn't that good, but she only has an accent and doesn't know all the nouns, but she gets the grammar and syntax better than I do. She knows exactly what she is talking about and is able to communicate it to those who are able to listen. Of course, a cornerstone of all xenophobia is the refusal to listen. Sometimes the boot gets to her too, and she discounts herself. But she is an educated individual, and that is the only reason I could become one myself. No matter what anyone yells at her, white trash america can get fucked. I can too, when I discount her also.

I think it's terribly unfair, all the things she's had to go through. The loneliness she is forced into now is one I wish for an answer to every day. I wish I could give her more of myself but I don't even get enough of me as it stands. She's worked so hard and the world should have given her so much more than it has.

Happy Mother's Day, guys. Remember how much of you comes from her.