Mosaic of Experiences: Andrea Padilla

When I was 16 years old, I was first introduced to the concept of opinions and scrutiny when it came down to adopted children verses blood children. Peering into the mirror, I saw my mother's reflection—my adoptive mother, my real mother, the only maternal figure I'd ever known.

"But what about your real mother? She's not really your mother." It is a question and statement that I have carried with me for almost 2 decades.

According to the dictionary, a mother is someone who brings you up with care and affection and looks after someone kindly and protectively. If that isn't my mother, I don't know what is.

Before finding solace in my adoptive family, I traversed the tumultuous landscape of foster care. Each shift in circumstance deepened my quest for belonging and identity. Yet, the more I unraveled my past, the more profound my sense of displacement became. After that above statement coupled with my previous years in the foster system, I found myself lost. Who was my family? Where did I belong? And most importantly, who was I? Unfortunately for me, as I dug and uncovered more from my biological past, these feelings only intensified.

My biological mother abandoned me at the hospital the day I was born to avoid the warrants out for her arrest. This was only after she failed to have me in a motel room. The set of substance-induced seizures brought on by the numerous illegal substances in my system were the only thing that brought me to the hospital that day. The doctors assumed from that moment forward that I had suffered brain damage and would have diminished cognitive abilities. My real mother fought for me every second I was lucky enough to be in her home under her care. She gave me the support I needed to be the smart and functioning woman I am today. My biological mother would later tell me at my final visit with her that she had wished she had had me at that hotel so she could have thrown me in the dumpster where I belonged. I was 10 years old. She was arrested a month later for possession and I never saw her again.

When I was 13 years old, I met a boy. A relationship spanning nine years that shaped my perception of love, respect, and self-worth, which is really unfortunate. He was my first everything. We grew up together. We were just kids. But when we were 19, he became addicted to the same drugs that took my biological family from me. I can tell you everything about the first night he came home and put his hands on me. I vividly remember every smell, every touch, every taste. For many years I felt shame in admitting that I stayed 4 more years after that first night. It wasn’t the last time he hit me. Despite the violence inflicted upon me, I remained entwined in a web of fear and shame feeling paralyzed and lost. After a restraining order, 3 ER visits, and 2 failed dead end jobs later, I realized my hometown wasn’t the place I needed to be. I refer to it as my awakening. When I finally realized that my hometown held no sanctuary for me.

In a moment that could have been defined by anger or abandonment, my parents chose a different path—one etched with unwavering support and unconditional love. Rather than casting blame or washing their hands of my struggles, they epitomized resilience by embracing my journey as their own. They helped pack up everything I owned into a Uhaul, which wasn’t much, and they drove me from Redding, CA to Benson, AZ so I could have my fresh start with my best friend from high school. She had moved down to Arizona years prior to attend the University of Arizona.

Knowing only my friend, Molly, my parents settled me into our little house before they made the drive back home. Again, the profound sense of loss and fear washed over me. I was alone again. I had no idea where I belonged.

?I ended up finding work in Sierra Vista working for the Department of Economic Security. Later, I ended up in St David working as a special education teaching assistant. I fell in love with education right then and there. It reminded me of my mom and the hours she devoted to me so that I could have the best life possible through education and knowledge. In the sanctum of the classroom, I unearthed echoes of my mother's unwavering dedication and advocacy, her tireless efforts to impart knowledge and instill a thirst for learning within every learner. I found solace in the realization that her legacy lived on, woven into the fabric of my own journey towards empowerment and enlightenment.

This eventually led me to Tucson where I began a career with the Department of Child Safety. I was fortunate to work with amazing children from infants to adolescents, specializing in working with substance exposed newborns and sexual abuse cases. While I am thankful for this experience and the children that touched my life along the way, this job was ugly, painful, and most of all, triggering. It reminded me of a world that I escaped and while I have a deep admiration for case managers, it isn’t something I have in me to be day in and day out. However, this experience helped me realize that I wanted to help people. I wanted to give back to my community.

This began my career in special education. I would spend the next several years putting myself through school and building my career in special education. I feel like this love was given to me by my mother. The love of knowledge and education and sharing that with another individual. I made the leap into higher education a year ago, and as a lifelong learner, I relish that I get to continue my learning journey as I learn more about employer engagement & career services.? Additionally, I am at the end of a dual master’s program. I will walk across the stage with two master’s degrees on May 2nd standing before my adoptive parents, whose unwavering love and support sealed my adoption at 16, I am reminded of the power of transformation. In their embrace, I found not just a new beginning, but a testament to the boundless capacity of love to transcend circumstances and redefine destinies.

I wouldn’t be this woman, this person, this professional without the incredible people in my life that have helped shape me into the person I am today. As I stand at the precipice of a dual master's degree, I am a mosaic of experiences—forged by adversity, shaped by love, and empowered by the women who paved my path. Their indelible imprint reminds me of the resilience inherent in every woman's history—a legacy of strength, courage, and unwavering resolve.

Reflecting on my journey, I am acutely aware of the profound impact that the remarkable individuals in my life, especially my mother, have had on shaping the woman I have become. Their unwavering support, guidance, and love have been the cornerstone of my transformation—from a survivor of adversity to a resilient professional standing on the brink of attaining a dual master's degree. I hope to never forget that. I hope to never forget my journey and the wrong turns I have taken that finally led me to all the right ones. I hope my trials and my challenges never take away my kindness and compassion—both traits I was lucky enough to inherit from my mother.

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