I let slip my own happiness, all to please those closest to meand, in the end, they were the first to turn their backs.
By the time I closed the door behind me, Londons midnight shadow crept along the stairwells and only the little lamp above the hallway mirror was still litthe same lamp my mother insisted I keep, because its still got life in it yet. I took off my shoes, slow and heavy, feeling that old ache tighten across my chest, the ache that visited me each night.
There was a piece of paper waiting for me on the kitchen table.
Ring me. Its urgent.
Signed: Mum.
I didnt even sigh. I just sat and dialled her number. It was always like thismy own life could wait.
Where have you been at this hour? she began, not even asking if I was well.
At work, I replied.
You know you have to come round tomorrow. Your fathers not feeling himself. And your sister cant possibly make it.
Of course she couldnt. My sister never possibly could. But somehow, I always could.
Years ago, I was offered a job in Manchester: good pay, a fresh starta chance to be someone other than the daughter everyone relies on. Mum cried. Dad said nothing. My sister just muttered: Cant you think a bit about us?
So I thought.
And I turned it down.
Later, I marriednot out of love, but because everyone said, Its about time. My husband was suitablethat very word my family used over and over. Suitable, yet ever distant. With the years, we became flatmates who spoke only of bills and obligations.
When I divorced, no one stood up for me.
Its your own fault, Mum told me.
You shouldve stuck it out, offered Dad.
I swallowed it again.
The true blow came when I fell ill. Nothing dramatic at firstfainting, exhaustion, aches that wouldnt vanish. My doctor told me to slow down, to take care, to stop carrying it all alone.
That evening, I spoke up at home.
So you wont be coming round tomorrow? Mum asked.
I cant. Im unwell.
Silence. And then her voice went cold.
Well, I see youve started thinking only of yourself, then
They didnt call, not for days.
Then weeks.
When I finally went to see them, it was my sister who opened the door. Her smile wobbled.
We werent sure youd turn up at all.
I stepped in and realised I was just a guest. Not family, not supportjust someone who had dared not to be always available.
Thats when the truth came clear.
As long as I erased myself, I was wanted.
But the moment I asked for care, I became an inconvenience.
I left that house without shouting, without tears.
But with a decision.
I would no longer live someone elses life, bending myself just to be convenient for others.
Sometimes, losing those youve sacrificed yourself for isnt a tragedy.
Sometimes, its the only way to survive.
