By Shammeer Dawson
“Let’s race!” says my three-year-old who expects nothing less. I slowly sit on my mobility scooter with my infant. She grips my arm and starts gnawing. I grit my teeth and imitate a car sound. I throw my cell phone in the basket of the scooter and ride up the driveway toward the “race ramp.” My son is peering back at me on his recreational scooter as the sun is beaming on his smile.
As the wind rustles through my tight curls, I realize this is my life and I will win this race.
Before becoming a mom, I was a determined, sexy 20-something seeking my MSW and MPA from the University of Southern California. I was competing for a local pageant, active in student groups, and advancing myself professionally. I was biting more than I could chew but I had been accustomed to bad eating habits.
My lupus was spiraling out of control and I was a master at hiding my truth. I was fatigued, achy and in pain. I was having frequent flares, especially during finals and midterms. There were countless times when I would fall asleep in class, leave class for relief, or call someone for encouragement. Consequently, my inability to make health my priority caused me to be fired from my first internship.
But here I am with dual masters in social work and public administration. I won my Social Security Disability Case in 2013 and I was approved to have my student loans discharged soon after.
Although I am a 30-year-old, stay-at-home mother of two with lupus, I believe I have become the best social worker that I needed. I am so grateful to be a social worker. I have tools to circumvent my life and overcome difficult situations as if I were in an office setting. However, it feels like I have an endless caseload filled with dirty dishes, mandatory playtime, and constant movement. Nevertheless, I accept my hours, responsibilities, and minimal pay. I am humbly paid in kisses.
