My Mother moved into a public housing unit right before I was born. It was a small two bedroom unit and my 4 year old brother didn't want to share his room. So I was stuck sleeping in my Mothers bed. But I hated that and slept on a very uncomfortable couch most nights.
The unit was so small and cramped. It was extremely dirty and cockroach ridden. I hated living there so much. My Mother wasn't one for housework. I remember at such a small age I was the one scrubbing the kitchen floor because I was embarrassed to live like that.
My cupboards were always bare and I was lucky if I ate once a day. Sometimes we had food but nobody there to cook for me and my brother, so I was forced to teach myself to cook at a very young age.
I have a vivid memory of this one time I was starving and I was home alone as usual. I was making myself a bowl of weetbix for dinner and as I was pouring the milk over them, all these baby cockroaches were floating up to the top. I sat there crying as I picked out as many as I could. Then continued to eat the weetbix. I didn't have much of a choice.
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