From Survival to Strategy: Why I’m Sharing My Story and How I Want to Help Other Mothers

My name is Kateisha.

I grew up in Little Burgundy, Montreal, Quebec, Canada, in an environment that many people would describe as “the hood.” At the time, a lot of families in my community lived in low-income housing. There were single mothers, absent fathers, abusive relationships, financial struggles, drugs, alcohol, crime, and children being exposed to things far too young.

But when you're a child, you don't necessarily recognize poverty, dysfunction, or instability for what they are.

You recognize them as home.

You recognize them as normal.

And that is where my story begins.

To start.. Growing up, I saw adults struggling with money and arguing about finances. I saw people around me using drugs and alcohol. I saw crime being committed and, in some cases, almost worn like a badge of honor.

Children were drinking and smoking at ages when they should have been worrying about homework and playing outside.

I was one of those children.

I started drinking and smoking weed at a young age. Eventually, I became angry. I fought. I became increasingly aggressive, especially when I drank.

I spent a lot of time in the streets and at other people's homes rather than being home.

Looking back now, I can understand that I was a young girl trying to navigate an environment that had taught me very little about healthy relationships, emotional regulation, financial stability, or what a healthy home was supposed to look like.

My mother was a very intelligent woman. She went as far as university with her education. Yet we still lived in city housing and struggled financially.

As a child, I didn't understand that.

I wondered:

Why are we poor?

Why are we struggling?

Why do we live like this?

I didn't understand that being educated doesn't automatically protect someone from financial hardship.

I didn't understand that people can work hard and still struggle.

I didn't understand that poverty isn't always about laziness or lack of intelligence.

And I certainly didn't understand how much the environment around me was shaping the decisions I would make later in life.

I was raised around unhealthy relationships.

I had an abusive father.

And eventually, I found myself entering abusive relationships myself.

The truth is difficult to admit, but I believe it is important to be honest about it.

Sometimes we repeat what we've seen because we haven't been taught anything different.

That doesn't mean we are responsible for someone else's abuse.

It means that sometimes we have to unlearn what we were taught by our environment.

I eventually became involved with the father of my children, someone I had known since high school.

I thought I was safe.

But the red flags were there.

And eventually, I found myself in another abusive relationship.

At different points, my life became incredibly unstable. I ended up living in places where no young woman should have had to live.

But something began changing inside me.

I started saving.

I didn't have a perfect financial plan.

I didn't have someone sitting beside me explaining financial independence.

I didn't have a roadmap.

I simply knew that I wanted something different.

So I started saving whatever money I could.

Eventually, I saved enough to get my first apartment.

It was a bachelor apartment.

To someone else, it may not have looked like much.

To me, it was everything.

It was my first real sense that I could create something for myself.

It was a place where I could close the door and rest my head.

It was a place I could call home.

And that little apartment taught me something much bigger than housing.

It taught me:

I can do this.

From there, I started learning.

I learned about leases.

I learned about renting.

I learned about being a tenant.

I learned about conditions in apartments and what landlords were responsible for.

I learned because I had to.

And eventually, I learned something else:

Knowledge gives you options.

Then I became a mother and my perspective changed.

I was no longer thinking only about myself.

There was another human being depending on me.

I wanted more.

I wanted stability.

I wanted a better home.

I wanted to be able to provide.

I continued working different customer-service jobs, trying to find my direction and increase my income.

I went from a bachelor apartment to a larger apartment because we were expecting our first child.

Life was slowly changing.

But I was still in an abusive relationship.

And that is an important part of my story because sometimes people assume that once you realize something isn't healthy, you immediately leave.

It doesn't always happen that way.

Sometimes there are children involved.

Sometimes there is financial dependence.

Sometimes there is fear.

Sometimes there is nowhere to go.

Sometimes you don't even know what your options are.

Sometimes you're simply trying to make it through the week.

And sometimes you are building your exit plan quietly while continuing to survive.

One of the apartments I lived in eventually became extremely difficult to live in.

The building was falling apart.

I knew the conditions weren't healthy.

At the time, I knew there were avenues I could potentially pursue, including going through the Régie du logement, but I didn't follow through.

I left.

Years later, I would understand more clearly that knowing your rights is one thing.

Having the confidence and knowledge to use those rights is another.

That distinction is important to me today.

Because I don't want to simply tell women:

“Know your rights.”

I want to help women understand:

Where do you go?

What questions should you ask?

What documentation should you keep?

Who can help you?

What are your options?

Because sometimes people don't need another motivational quote.

They need someone to say:

“Okay. Here's where you start.”

Another major turning point in my life came through my relationship with weed.

I began having bad experiences when I smoked.

I watched people around me struggle with serious consequences, including ending up in mental-health institutions.

And I became afraid.

I didn't want that to become my story.

Eventually, I stopped.

That decision became part of a larger pattern in my life.

I began making different choices.

Not perfect choices.

Not overnight.

But different ones.

I started slowly putting my life together.

And I want to emphasize the word slowly.

Because rebuilding your life rarely happens in one dramatic moment.

Sometimes rebuilding looks like:

Getting a job.

Saving $20.

Finding a safer apartment.

Learning something new.

Walking away from something unhealthy.

Asking for help.

Making a phone call.

Reading a document.

Opening a bank account.

Learning how credit works.

Finding out what government assistance or community resources are available.

Setting a boundary.

Trying again after you failed.

Those small steps matter.

Eventually, I moved into a 5½ upper duplex.

And I stayed there for eight years.

Eight years is a long time.

That home became part of my children's lives.

It became part of our story.

During those years, I continued working, raising my children, navigating my relationship, and learning more about life.

I didn't know at the time that everything I was learning would eventually become something I could share with other women.

But it was.

Every difficult experience was teaching me something.

Every mistake taught me something.

Every apartment taught me something.

Every financial struggle taught me something.

Every time I had to figure something out on my own, I was building knowledge.

So why am I sharing all of this now? ..Because I know I'm not the only woman who has lived through something like this.

• Maybe your story doesn't look like mine.

• Maybe you grew up in a wealthy family.

• Maybe you grew up in poverty.

• Maybe you are from Canada.

• Maybe you're from the United States, the Caribbean, Africa, Europe, Asia, Australia, or somewhere else entirely.

• Maybe you are married.

• Maybe you're a single mother.

• Maybe you're still in a relationship that doesn't feel right.

• Maybe you're trying to leave.

• Maybe you've already left.

• Maybe you have a good career but still don't feel financially secure.

• Maybe you have never been taught how money works.

• Maybe you are embarrassed about your financial situation.

• Maybe you are afraid that people will judge you.

• Maybe you've made financial mistakes.

• Maybe you're starting over at 25.

• Maybe you're starting over at 45.

• Maybe you're starting over at 60.

You are not too late.

I don't want to position myself as someone who has all the answers.

I don't.

I'm still learning too.

What I bring is experience, research, resources, lived knowledge, and the willingness to talk about things that many women are afraid to talk about.

I want to help women understand that financial independence isn't just about making a lot of money.

It is about having options.

It's knowing where your money goes.

It's understanding your expenses.

It's learning how to save.

It's understanding credit.

It's knowing what documents you should have access to.

It's understanding your housing rights.

It's recognizing financial abuse.

It's knowing what resources exist in your community.

It's learning how to build an emergency fund.

It's developing skills that can increase your income.

It's understanding that you don't have to stay financially dependent on someone simply because you've been with them for years.

And sometimes, financial independence starts with something as simple as asking:

“What would happen if I had to take care of myself and my children on my own?”

That's not a question meant to create fear.

It's a question meant to create preparedness.

I want to help women move from survival to strategy and I know  how to do it. For years, I lived in survival mode;I know what it feels like to simply focus on getting through the next day.

But survival and strategy are two different things.

Survival asks:

“How am I going to get through this?”

Strategy asks:

“What can I start doing today that will make my future different?”

That is the conversation I want to have with other mothers.

I want us to talk about money without shame.

I want us to talk about financial abuse.

I want us to talk about housing.

I want us to talk about relationships.

I want us to talk about rebuilding.

I want us to talk about raising children while trying to rebuild your own life.

I want us to talk about the things that nobody taught us.

And most importantly, I want women to understand that asking for help is not failure.

There is no shame in using a food bank.

There is no shame in accessing community resources.

There is no shame in receiving government assistance when you need it.

There is no shame in living in subsidized housing.

There is no shame in starting over.

There is no shame in admitting:

“I don't know how to do this.”

The shame is not in needing help.

Sometimes the real power is having the courage to say:

“I need to learn.”

My goal isn't to tell women what they should do with their lives.

Your circumstances are different from mine.

Instead, I want to help you build a toolbox.

A toolbox filled with information, resources, questions to ask, strategies to consider, and practical steps you can take.

Some of those tools may involve finances.

Some may involve housing.

Some may involve employment.

Some may involve understanding your rights.

Some may involve finding community resources.

Some may simply involve helping you recognize that what you're experiencing has a name.

Because sometimes, you can't change what you don't recognize.

And sometimes, once you understand what is happening, you can finally begin figuring out what comes next.

To the woman reading this, I don't know your story yet.

I don't know what you've been through.

I don't know what you're currently facing.

But I want you to know something.

You don't have to have everything figured out today.

You don't have to know exactly how you're going to leave.

You don't have to know how you're going to rebuild.

You don't have to suddenly become financially independent overnight.

Start where you are.

Learn.

Ask questions.

Find resources.

Save what you can.

Protect your documents.

Understand your finances.

Learn your rights.

Build your support system.

And take one step.

Then another.

And another.

Because I know something now that I didn't know when I was growing up:

Your environment can shape you, but it does not have to define you.

Today, I want to help other women discover that there is something beyond survival.

There is strategy.

There is rebuilding.

There is independence.

There is stability.

There is growth.

And there is a life on the other side of everything you thought you couldn't overcome.

That's what I bring to the table.

My experience.

My lessons.

My resources.

My honesty.

And my willingness to walk beside other women as they figure out their next step.

Because sometimes, we don't need someone to save us.

Sometimes, we need someone to show us where to start.

And that's what I want to do.

From survival to strategy—one woman, one mother, one step at a time.