I couldn’t help but laugh—so you’re telling me, with the child support my ex pays for *our* kid, I’m supposed to pay *his* child support for *his* kids? I just about lost it. Mum thought it was perfectly fine, that of course I should bail my brother out. This whole mess started a couple of years ago, when my life was already feeling like some convoluted soap opera.
**Divorce and a New Reality**
My husband and I split when our son was five. It was messy—arguments, splitting assets, endless court battles. In the end, I got custody, and my ex was ordered to pay child support. The amount wasn’t exactly life-changing—25% of his *official* salary, which, surprise surprise, was practically minimum wage. In reality, he earned way more, but proving that in court? No luck. So it was tight—I worked an office job, freelanced on the side, and his payments just about covered nursery and extracurriculars for our boy.
Mum had always been my rock. She helped with childcare, brought groceries over, even slipped me cash now and then. But she had one blind spot—my younger brother, Oliver. Twenty-eight, and constantly in some drama—losing jobs, breakups, piling up debts. Mum always insisted I, as the big sister, should “pull him through.” I didn’t mind helping out now and then, but what came next knocked me sideways.
**Oliver and His “Family Situations”**
Oliver had two kids with two different women. Split from the first when their girl was two, from the second when their boy turned one. He was *supposed* to pay child support for both, but—shocker—he didn’t. Worked cash-in-hand, odd jobs here and there, so officially? “Broke.” His exes took him to court, but what’s the point? Can’t squeeze blood from a stone.
Then one day, Mum sits me down: “Sophie, you *have* to help Oliver. His ex is threatening to take him back to court over unpaid support—he could go to jail. You don’t want that, do you?” I was stunned. “Mum, how is that *my* problem? Let him sort himself out.” But she’d already cooked up a plan—she wanted me to cover his payments. “You’ve got income,” she said, “those child support payments from your ex. Just use *those*.”
**Ridiculous Logic and Family Guilt**
At first, I thought she was joking. Pay *his* child support… with the money meant for *my* son? But she was dead serious. Kept saying I “owed it to family,” that Oliver was “in trouble,” and as the eldest, it was my job to fix it. Even brought up how *she* used to bail out her siblings back in the day. I tried explaining—this wasn’t the same, *every penny* mattered for us—but she wouldn’t hear it.
Worse, she’d already talked to Oliver, and he *loved* the idea. He rang me all wheedling: “Soph, it’s *so* hard right now, they’re really hounding me, and you could *easily* sort this.” I nearly dropped the phone. “Oliver, *seriously*? You want me to take from my kid’s support to cover yours?” He just said, “Come on, you’re stable—I’m not.”
**My Stand and the Aftermath**
I said no. Flat-out. Told them I wasn’t short-changing my son because Oliver couldn’t take responsibility. Mum called me “selfish,” said I “didn’t care about family.” Oliver sulked, saying I’d “abandoned him.” Weeks of silence followed. I felt guilty, but deep down, I knew I’d done right.
In the end, Oliver found some dodgy workaround—convinced one ex to hold off on court, ignored the other. Mum *still* thinks I should’ve “helped out.” She brings it up sometimes, especially when I ask her to babysit.
**What I Learned**
This whole mess taught me a few things. First, you can’t let family guilt-trip you into nonsense. I love them, but *my son* comes first. Second, help goes to people who *try*—Oliver just expected handouts. And third, saying “no” is *hard*, but necessary.
These days, I keep Oliver at arm’s length. Things with Mum are better, but I’ve made it clear—I’m not a safety net for his bad choices. Anyone else been here? How do you set boundaries without burning bridges?
