Mad Money
Every female should have her Mad Money saved up.
“I don’t have the space to accomodate her,” Georgia said to her two friends as they each sat around the large oval-shaped table in Calvin Cottage, a fine Italian restaurant.
“My husband says he isn’t putting her up,” Janis said as the waiter strolled towards their table.
Paula nodded, then said, “Jason said the same thing.”
“But she has no family here, and we are her only friends,” Georgia reminds them.
Silence roared as they nodded, shrugging their shoulders. Paula adds, “We can’t help her, because we, too, rely on our husbands, and they all said no.”
“But where will she go?” Georgia asked.
“It’s none of our business,” Paula said quickly.
Georgia nods, sending the pain back into her heart. The pain that the rest will never know. “But Ian isn’t good to her.”
“We all have our problems, and we can’t take on hers,” Janis said.
Nadia entered and marched over to their table, dressed as if she were going camping, a large backpack on her shoulder. Georgia sensed her pain and read it behind the smile her friend used to cover it.
Minutes later, they enjoyed various dishes as they waited for Nadia to ask for their help. When they finished and it was time to pay, Georgia suggested, “ I will cover this.”
“Nope,” Nadia said, taking her debit card out of her wallet and handing it to the waiter. “Take a ten percent tip.”
“We can’t put you up!” Paula and Janis said quickly.
Nadia smiled, her eyes turning to Georgia. Nadia reached out, took Georgia’s hands, and said, “You know why I must leave.”
“Where are you going?” Paula asked, her eyes on Georgia as Nadia squeezed her hands.
“I don’t know,” Nadia said, staring at them, after pulling away from Georgia. “You can come with me if you want to stay alive.”
“You want us to leave what we know for what we don’t know?” Paula questioned.
“Think of it as saving your lives,” Nadia stressed. “You would be free from the hell they are doing to us.”
“Give us time to think about this?” Paula and Janis said.
“You want time to think about your right to freedom?” Nadia said.
‘We can’t just leave,” Janis pleads.
“Sorry, but it’s now or never!” Nadia inform them.
“That was more than thirty years ago?” Georgia said to her daughter and granddaughter.
“You left with Auntie Nadia that day with nothing?” Sophia, her granddaughter, asked.
“Nadia’s grandmother demands that all of her female children and granddaughters save their mad money in a special account, so if they have to flee from the abuse they are enduring in their relationship, nothing is there to stop them. She shared her mad money with me, and it saved our lives. Yes, it was now or never. I freed myself from the shackles of pain that marriage had me in.”
“You mean your first husband used to abuse you?” Sophia asked, hugging her grandmother.
Georgia nods in agreement and continues, “He killed his second wife and is doing life in prison without parole. Paula’s husband killed her, and Janis had to flee after she came out of the coma her husband put her in.” Handing her sixteen-year-old granddaughter a bank card, then explaining, “Every female should have an account where she saves her mad money. When hell visits, she can leave to save her life. You have a job, start saving!”
Sophie turned to Gina, her mother, and asked, “So you have yours?”
“I got mine at fourteen because I was more mature than you,” Gina informed her.
“So this is a tradition,” Sophie said, waving her bank card in the air, smiling.
“Yes, it is!” Georgia said sternly, glaring at her granddaughter. Feeling her grandmother’s eyes on her, Sophie said, “Sorry, Grandma, I guess I have a lot to learn about life and relationships.”
Georgia reached out and hugged her tightly, praying she doesn’t have to use her Mad Money.
Every female should have an account where she saves her Mad Money, because there will be a time in her life when she has to leave with her life and freedom in a backpack. And without the correct resources, it might cost her her life. Many females stay in an abusive relationship that sometimes ends their lives. Encourage your daughters, granddaughters, and other females to start saving their Mad Money now!
Every female should have her mad money saved up for when life tests her.
About the Creator
Annelise Lords
Annelise Lords writes short, inspiring, motivating, and thought-provoking stories that target and heal the heart. She has added fashion designer to her name. Check out https://www.redbubble.com/people/AnneliseLords/shop?asc=u
Keep reading
More stories from Annelise Lords and writers in Motivation and other communities.
Does Menopause or Andropause Soften or Strengthen Some of Us?
Why is it named ‘Men-o-pause,’ for females, when it’s causing harm to many of us? Lol. Men have caused a lot of harm to women and our world. Are they reminding us of the damage done to us by Men?
By Annelise Lords 6 months ago in Motivation
“The Man Who Never Missed a Day”
When I was 17, I met a man who delivered newspapers in the rain. Not in a casual, half-hearted way—but fully committed, every single morning. He would leave his house before sunrise, his coat soaked, shoes falling apart, and the wind cutting through him like a knife. Yet, despite the cold and wet, he smiled at everyone on his route. To a teenager like me, it was both confusing and inspiring. I remember the first time I saw him struggle with a bundle of papers that seemed almost too heavy for him. He slipped on the wet pavement, muttered something under his breath, and kept walking. When he reached the next house, he knocked on the door, handed over the paper, and smiled as the door closed. That smile was strange to me—it wasn’t pride or satisfaction, it was… calm. Almost peaceful. Curious, I approached him one morning. “Why don’t you take a day off when it’s so hard?” I asked, shivering in my hoodie as the rain soaked me through. He laughed, a deep, gravelly sound that didn’t sound annoyed, only knowing. “Son, nobody cares about today,” he said, shaking his head. “What matters is tomorrow. You build your life the same way: one small effort, every day, even when nobody notices.” At the time, I didn’t understand. My life felt urgent, like it had to explode with success immediately. I was chasing big ideas, jumping from project to project, leaving most half-finished. I thought motivation was everything—without the spark of inspiration, nothing mattered. The idea of showing up every single day, even when tired, even when bored, even when invisible, felt almost insane. I watched him for weeks. Rain or shine, he was there. I started noticing small details I hadn’t seen before—the careful folding of the papers, the way he adjusted his wet coat to protect the bundle, the extra minute he took to smile at a child running out to grab the paper. Every morning, the same ritual. Every morning, the same effort. And yet, nobody cheered. Nobody noticed. Years passed. I went to college, chasing my own “big dreams,” my own versions of instant success. I started businesses, abandoned them; learned new skills, stopped halfway; made promises to myself I couldn’t keep. I told myself I was working toward greatness, but mostly, I was chasing the idea of success, not the work itself. Motivation was my fuel, and when it ran out, I stopped moving. Meanwhile, the memory of that man stayed with me. The quiet diligence, the smile in the pouring rain. I didn’t realize it at the time, but he had already taught me the most important lesson: consistency matters more than talent, and persistence matters more than inspiration. Years later, I found myself struggling. A career path crumbled beneath me, a relationship ended badly, and my confidence had hit rock bottom. I remembered the man with the newspapers. I thought about how small, invisible efforts can be the hardest to trust—because results are not immediate, and recognition is not guaranteed. Yet, he had shown me that those small efforts accumulate, slowly but inevitably, into a life that cannot be ignored. I started experimenting with this principle myself. Every morning, I wrote 500 words for my stories—even when tired, even when uninspired. I practiced my skills quietly, without posting or sharing. I did the work not for applause, but because it mattered to the person I wanted to become. Some days, it felt like nothing was happening. Some days, I wanted to give up. But then I remembered the man with the newspapers, and I kept showing up. It didn’t take long before I started noticing changes. The words I wrote flowed better, ideas connected in ways they never had before. People began noticing my work. Small victories became more frequent, and my confidence started to rebuild. What had seemed like meaningless, invisible effort had quietly transformed my life. That man never became famous. He never went viral. He had no thousands of followers, no awards, no recognition. But every paper he delivered, every smile he shared, every step he took in the rain—it all mattered. Each day of consistent effort built a life he owned completely, a life he could be proud of. I realized then that success is not a moment. It is not a sudden flash of recognition or a single lucky opportunity. Success is the sum of the quiet, consistent decisions we make when no one is watching. It’s the choice to wake up when it’s easier to sleep. It’s the decision to work when it’s easier to scroll on your phone. It’s the effort we put in when the world doesn’t applaud. And the truth is simple: showing up every day is more powerful than talent, motivation, or luck. Talent fades. Motivation fluctuates. But showing up—every single day, rain or shine—creates results you cannot imagine. Just like the man in the rain, your efforts may not be recognized immediately. People may overlook them, circumstances may feel unfair, progress may seem invisible. But over time, the cumulative effect of your daily effort will speak for itself. One day, the world will notice. One day, your consistency will transform your life. So, start today. Don’t wait for motivation. Don’t wait for inspiration. Show up. Every day. One small effort. One action. One step at a time. Let your grind be louder than your excuses. Because the man who never missed a day wasn’t special. He was ordinary. But through persistence, he became unstoppable. And so can you.
By Ihtisham Ulhaqa day ago in Motivation
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.