Cassie Nova • 07-11-25

Hello my lovelies. This one is something I need to write — partly because I need to work some shit out and writing it out helps, and partly because this is consuming my thoughts, and I am not sure what to do.

I want to start by saying that I love my mother. She worked hard to provide for my sister and me when we were kids. Our relationship has had its ups and downs, but I have always respected her and her amazing work ethic. She taught me that if I wanted anything, it would not be given to me; I would have to work for it.

I got my first job at 13 years old at a Dairy Queen. Mom knew the owner, and we lied and said I was 16. I loved it. I had my own money. I was able to buy what I wanted and able to help out financially whenever I could. Nothing makes you feel more like a grown-up than having money and contributing to the bills.

When I was a young, Brenda Love was a badass. She didn’t take shit from anyone. I once saw her knock a guy on his ass for grabbing hers. The look of terror and shock on his face was priceless.

For a while, she was a yellow cab driver and could literally get anywhere in DFW and never get lost. Other cab drivers would ask her for directions. But, most of her life, she worked for companies where she would drive all over Texas putting up displays and restocking items in convenience stores.

If there was a rack with toys, sunglasses or just about anything, my mom was the one that got it there and kept it looking good. Love’s Truckstop’s, Circle K’s and random gas stations were her bread and butter. She would drive hundreds of miles in a day in her van or big ass box truck. On most days she would leave before the sun came up and not get home until it was dark.

I like to think that some of her work ethic rubbed off on me, because I have always had a job and provided for myself since I was 18 and on my own.

Unfortunately, that work ethic didn’t hit anyone else in our family. And that is where this story takes a turn. My sister has three children, and they all lived with my mom. The moment the first grandchild was born, my mom changed. She softened.

I know that is what usually happens, but I hated it. She went from being a bad bitch that took no shit from anyone, to saying things like “Oh, well,” or “What are ya gonna do?”
She provided for those kids and my sister too well. They got just about everything they asked for.

Years go by and now the grandkids are adults — and still living with her and not working. At one point my mom was the only one with a job in a household with three other healthy adults. She was always stressed out about money yet still paid for everything they wanted — cell phones, cigarettes, video games, fast food, whatever. Brenda bought it.

I am not saying that they never had jobs or worked, but when they did, it never lasted long.
Things between Brenda and me became more and more strained because I would complain every time I talked to her, telling her to throw them out, make them get a job, do something.

Why would they get a job if you keep providing them with everything they need or want?
It got to where she would lie to me about them just to keep me from bitching about them using her.

Then, about two years ago, my mom had a stroke. And everything changed.

It was so scary.

It still is.

For the months after the stroke, I paid their rent, burning through a large chunk of my savings keeping a roof over their heads. When I could no longer afford to pay their rent, and with little help from the grandkids, they eventually got evicted, and my mom moved in with her mom.

That did not last long. Those two old women fight more than any mother and daughter I know of, so my mom ended up getting a small apartment with my nephew, her youngest grandkid.

She uses her government assistance check to pay their bills, while the nephew has a part time job and “helps out.”

She asks me and other family members to CashApp her money a few times a week. usually for lunch or groceries here and there. As it turns out, it actually was usually to buy them cigarettes, and I fucking refuse to do that. So I will buy her groceries and have them delivered.

Then I find out that she thinks she is in a relationship with Henry Cavill, the actor — fucking Superman! And he is asking her to send him money and amazon gift cards — and she was doing it!

There is a special place in Hell for these motherfuckers that prey on the elderly. He uses A.I. to send videos of Henry Cavill telling her that he loves her and he is coming to Texas soon to see her.

I want to rip his dick off and shove it down his throat. Brenda swears she now knows it’s a scam, and she promises never to send him anything else. But she is still talking to him online. She says she is lonely and talking to him helps.

She doesn’t want to live with me because we both know that is not a good idea for anyone. I refuse to “tone down” my life in my own home.

Everyone else in the family is mad at me for not forcing my mom into a home. But when I brought it up, she told me that if I did that, she would hate me forever. I think we are getting to the point where she is just gonna have to hate me.

It is strange to think of how much my relationship with my mom has changed over the years. Sorry to sound like such a Debbie Downer, but that’s life sometimes.

Remember to always love more, bitch less and whatever … Cassie Nova