[Creative Awards 2025🎖️] Why I, a Single Mother by Choice, Live with 'People Who Aren't Family'

"Why did you decide to start a share house?"

Having run a share house for 13 years, I have been asked this question countless times. I have always answered, "Because I thought if we could all take care of the cats together, both the cats and the people would be happy."

But, in truth, that wasn't the only reason.
I realized something about the feelings deep down once I became able to communicate with my sons.

Perhaps I created a share house because I couldn't live well with my own blood-related family and wanted a place where I belonged.

I wanted a place where I could exist without getting hurt.
But unfortunately, within the home of the family I was born into, I couldn't even find a gap where my heart could rest.

A daily life where I couldn't feel safe

In particular, my relationship with my mother had not gone well since I was a child.

My mother worked desperately every day as a nurse to make up for my father, an interior craftsman who wasn't good at earning money.
She chose a workplace without night shifts, so she would come home in the evening, but my mother was especially on edge on weekdays, and there was a sense of tension in the house.

I had always watched her bad-mouthing the doctors and their wives at her workplace, complaining about patients, and getting irritated while preparing meals, asking, "Why am I the only one so busy?"

I think I looked down on my mother, who was always angry at something.
I looked at her with cold eyes, thinking she was an "immature person" who couldn't control her emotions despite being an adult.

Anything I said seemed to add fuel to the fire, so my younger brother and I would spend our time in silence, holding our breath.
Behind her back, so she wouldn't hear, we called her"the demon hag."A code word like a conspiracy naturally formed that connected us siblings.

"Why is such an immature person my mother?"
I remember feeling deeply sad as a child.

As for my father, he would just silently endure my mother's anger. He often went out to drink even though he couldn't handle alcohol well; he must not have wanted to be at home.
Even as young children, we knew that if we argued back even a little, it would only become more troublesome.

However, even when my mother was being unreasonable toward us, I don't recall my father ever stopping her.
Although my father was described as "kind" by our relatives, his attitude of "I don't want to get involved" was apparent, and I gradually lost respect for him as well.

While none of us in the family knew what would trigger her,my mother was always the "victim" in her own mind.

There was a time when my fixed deposit, which I had saved for a year after starting work, was canceled by my mother without my permission and used for my father's payments. It was reported after the fact.

The amount was 600,000 yen. That was a huge sum for an 18-year-old me.
I was supposed to be contributing 30,000 yen to the household every month.
Come to think of it, it was my mother who had half-forced me to open that fixed deposit.

Even so, at the time, I rationalized it as a necessity for the household budget and played the part of the understanding daughter without any resistance.

However, when both my parents completely forgot about the incident itself a few years later, feelings of despair and regret washed over me.
To me, who had become emotional as if a dam had broken, my father laughed as if it were someone else's business, saying, "There's no way we would do something like that."

They were people who forgot everything inconvenient. That was it.
While harboring such unresolved feelings, a decisive incident occurred that caused my heart to drift away.

One day, more than a decade later, I ended up staying at my parents' house for a few days with my sons.
While I was organizing the inside of the suitcase I had brought, it seems I somehow triggered my mother's wrath again.

"You're doing this to spite me!"
My mother suddenly started yelling. To me, who couldn't understand what she was talking about at all, my mother continued:

"You've had pent-up feelings toward me since long ago!!"
"So, I want to cut ties as parent and child."

It was such an abrupt declaration of estrangement, thrown at me while she tossed damp laundry in front of my sons.

After a moment of surprise, I even found it a bit funny, thinking, "Oh, does this person think there's nothing pent up inside me?"

Not wanting to show my sons my mother yelling any further, I immediately packed my bags and left my parents' house.

That night, I received a rare LINE message from my father.
"I am blocking your LINE." Just that.

I knew instantly that he had been ordered to send it by my mother. The LINE from my father was much more shocking than any words from my mother.
Even though I had become an adult, my parents hadn't changed at all from those days.

It was an anticlimactic end to my relationship with my parents.

I've heard the term "toxic parent" often in the last few years, but do my parents fit that description?
I know of abuse and even harsher households, so I can't say for sure.

But my mother had always been kind to cats.
She couldn't leave abandoned cats alone and would often pick them up and take care of them.
When she was interacting with cats, my mother's voice was gentle.
Love oozed from her gaze toward the cats.

So surely, my attitude must have been bad.
I probably never knew how to act like a child who seeks affection.
I think myself that I was an unlovable child who acted as if I understood everything.

But I only realized that after I became a mother myself.
My sons direct their boundless affection straight at me. Every day, love overflows from their small bodies toward me, to the point where I am bewildered.

I think I wasn't able to interact with my parents with pure feelings like my sons do. Because of that, I sometimes feel sorry for my parents.

And now, I can see a little bit of the thoughts my parents had that I couldn't notice back then.

Although I didn't gain a place of emotional support or a place where I could feel safe, they didn't spare money for my lessons.
It was just different from the form I was seeking, but I think there was definitely love in their own way.

Therefore, I don't hate them, nor do I think I "cannot forgive" them.
Of course, I am also grateful that they gave birth to and raised me.

It's just that my honest feeling now is that I don't need to be involved anymore.
I have come to think that it is better for both of us to keep this distance rather than going out of our way to hurt each other.

What I saw in 13 years of shared living

I have created several share houses so far, but knowing the state of "being myself" even within a home has been a huge change for me.

I was able to do that because no one was ever irritated.

There was no one to blame others for what they couldn't do.
There were no scenes of pointlessly lashing out with emotions.

Each person brought what they could do, and we managed our daily lives calmly, yet surely.

Perhaps it was the first time I saw, in a world closed off as a home, the sight of someone pulling themselves together instead of taking it out on others.
I had assumed that everyone is a creature that behaves selfishly inside a home.

Surrounded by kind people, I realized that I myself was naturally becoming kinder to those around me.

I was surprised that even though I am the same person, my way of being changes so much just by changing the people I am with.

A share house where you can live with cats

It started as a small share house with two cats.
The residents of the share house were men and women in their late 20s to 30s.
We were a close-knit group who would coordinate our schedules every summer to watch the DVD of the drama "Beach Boys" together.

We managed things like coordinating feeding times (cats will trick you immediately) and cleaning the cat litter boxes.
It was a life where we shared both the adoration of the cats and the daily care.

One day, one of them was seriously injured and had to be hospitalized.
I didn't have pet insurance, and tens of thousands of yen were flying away almost every week.
My wallet was hitting rock bottom, and I was mentally cornered.

At that time, perhaps noticing my state, one of the residents quietly spoke to me.

"If you'd like, could you let us pay for some of the treatment costs?"
It seemed they had discussed it among the residents beforehand.

That one sentence pierced straight to the bottom of my heart.
The love for the cat wasn't just mine alone.

My blood-related family took money from me, while my housemates, who are strangers, were offering to pay for my pet's treatment. It was a very strange feeling.

Ten years later, the day came when that cat quietly breathed its last.

Saturday afternoon.
Almost all the residents and I were there.
Although there was still some time until the date we were told it would pass, I think everyone, including me, had made up their minds somewhere because of the cat's unusual condition.

With a small cry, the strength left its whole body, and when the light in the back of its eyes suddenly vanished, strangely, feelings of gratitude overflowed rather than sadness.

As we each said, "Thank you for everything, I'll always love you," we wrapped the body in a towel and we all cried.

That night, a former resident who had lived with us 10 years ago also rushed over.
I was happy that they could see its peaceful face one last time.

I think living with cats had nurtured a relationship like an "invisible family" between us.

It was because of this shared living that I learned that living together is not just about "starting something together," but also about "seeing it through to the end."

I gave birth while living in a share house, and without considering other options, I am raising my children in the share house as well.

Because I realized when I was young that "just because you're family doesn't mean you have a good relationship," I chose to give birth without marriage, not using the marriage system.

I think this is also because I already knew the safe world that is a share house.

The true meaning of relying on each other, seen through 13 years of shared living

What I learned from watching my mother for many years was that the value of "I must do this" was making both her and those around her suffer.

Even when tired, "Cooking must be homemade"
"You must vacuum every day"
"Children must respect their parents"

So I decided tore-examine what is considered natural or good in the world for myself.

If preparing meals makes me feel bad, it's okay to buy them.
It's okay to prioritize resting my body over the state of the room.
Even as a mother, it's okay to leave your children with someone and go out to play.
It's okay to live together even if you aren't family.

As I rewrote "I must do this" to "It's okay to do this," I stopped caring so much about the eyes of others and the eyes of society.

And since the people who gather at the share house were all similarly tolerant of others and themselves, it was very comfortable.

There was a time when I went on a solo trip abroad for 3 nights and 4 days.

My second son was still a baby, only 2 months old, but my housemates paired up and took on childcare in a relay format in 5-hour shifts.

Regardless of day or night, they passed the baton to the next person, continuing to hold, put to sleep, and feed the baby.

From the moment I let go of being a perfect mother, a space was created within me, and the kindness of others began to enter there.

I think many people feel resistance to relying on others, but "relying" also means forgiving the other person for it.

While living in a share house, I realized that relying on others is also a GIVE at the same time.
It feels more accurate to describe a share house as a place where we "give to each other" by relying on each other, rather than "sharing."

In an environment where GIVE flies back and forth every day, my children are growing up healthy.

July 16, 2025
The smell of concrete damp with humidity, a cloudy day

Nothing special happened today either.

Just as usual, I made dinner, did the laundry, and said "goodnight" to the children.
But, in a sudden moment, I think.

What a happy life I am living.

Perhaps I am being allowed to re-experience the happiest time of my life in my deathbed lantern right now.

I have that feeling many times.

The fact that my child woke up on their own in the morning.
The fact that I was able to prepare a meal with what was in the refrigerator.
The fact that my housemates and children are laughing about something together.

The days that seem so unremarkable are what I find so precious right now.

I want to tell the me of those days.

The outside world is much kinder than you can imagine.
Whether you marry or not, you can build warm relationships.
Love and peace of mind are not found only within systems or blood ties.

And whether you give birth to children or not, there are chances to raise them.
In the life I chose, there are companions who are raising my children with me.

I was able to learn that being able to live while holding feelings of gratitude within the connections between people is the highest form of happiness for me.
That is because I had those days of tension living with my parents and brother.

Life is a journey of resolving foreshadowing and repaying kindness.

That is why I will tidy up my room again tomorrow.
While keeping myself in a good mood, I want this place to be somewhere where others can also be their true selves.

I believe that is my own way of repaying the people I have lived with, and all the experiences I have had so far.

#CreativeAwards2025 #EssayCategory

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