I sacrificed my happiness to please my family and in the end, they were the first to turn their backs on me.
When I closed the door to my flat, it was nearly midnight. Only the small lamp above the hallway mirror was glowing the very one my mother insisted I keep, saying, Theres nothing wrong with it yet. Slowly, I untied my laces and felt that familiar tightness in my chest, the same one that greeted me each night.
A note was waiting on the kitchen table.
Ring me. Its urgent.
Signed: Mum.
I didnt even sigh. I just sat down and dialed her number. That was always the way my own life could wait.
Where have you been this late again? she started, not even asking if I was alright.
I was at work.
You know you have to come round tomorrow. Your father isnt well. And your sister, once again, cant make it.
Of course she couldnt. My sister never could. But I always somehow could.
Years ago, I was offered a job in another city. It was good money, the beginning of something new, my chance to be more than just “the daughter everyone relies on.” My mother cried. My father stayed silent. My sister only said,
Cant you think about us for once?
So I did.
And I turned it down.
Later, I got married. Not because I was in love, but because everyone said it was time. My husband was suitable exactly the word my family used. Suitable, but distant. Over time, we became more like housemates, sharing conversations only about bills and responsibilities.
When I got divorced, nobody stood by me.
Its your own fault, said Mum.
You should have put up with it, added Dad.
Again, I swallowed my feelings.
The real blow came when I fell ill. Nothing dramatic at first fainting spells, exhaustion, aches that wouldnt fade. My doctor told me to slow down, to take care, not to shoulder everything myself.
That evening, I told them at home.
So you wont be coming round tomorrow? Mum asked.
I cant. Im not feeling well.
Silence. Then her voice turned cold.
Well, it seems youve started thinking only about yourself as well
After that, they didnt call for days.
Then, weeks.
When I finally went round, my sister answered the door. She smiled awkwardly.
We werent sure youd come at all.
I stepped inside and felt more like a visitor than family. No longer someone they leaned on, just a person who dared to stop being perpetually available.
Thats when I saw the truth.
So long as I denied myself, I was needed.
The moment I needed something in return, I became a burden.
I left that house without a row. Without tears.
But with a decision.
I would no longer live a life that wasnt mine, just to make things easier for others.
Sometimes, losing people youve sacrificed so much for isnt a tragedy at all.
Sometimes, its the only way you can truly begin to live for yourself.
