I’m 41 and the house I live in belonged to my grandparents. After they passed away, my mum stayed here, and when she was gone, the house was left to me. It’s always been a quiet, tidy, and peaceful place. I work all day and come home to an empty house. I never imagined that would change because of a choice I made “to help someone out”. Two years ago, a distant cousin called me in tears. She’d split up with her partner, had a young son, and nowhere to go. She asked if she could stay for “a few months” until she got back on her feet. I agreed — she was family, and I thought it wouldn’t affect me much. At first, everything was fine: she took one room, helped with the bills, and was out early each morning for work. Her son stayed with a neighbour. No problems. After three months, she quit her job. She said it was temporary, that she was looking for something better. She started spending all day in the house. Her son stopped going to the neighbour and stayed here instead. The place began to change — toys everywhere, noise, and unexpected visitors. I’d come home exhausted to find strangers sitting in my living room. When I asked her to give me a heads-up, she said I was overreacting and that “this is her home now too”. Eventually, she stopped contributing financially. First it was “just for now”, then she promised to pay me back. I ended up paying for everything: bills, groceries, repairs. One day I came home to find she’d rearranged the furniture “to make it cosier” — she hadn’t asked. When I expressed my annoyance, she got offended and told me I was cold, that I didn’t understand what it meant to live like a family. Things became even more tense when she started having her ex over — the man she claimed she’d left. He would come around in the evenings, stay the night, use the shower, eat the food. One day I found him coming out of my bedroom — he’d borrowed “a jacket”, apparently without asking. That’s when I told her enough was enough — there had to be boundaries. She started crying and shouting, reminding me I’d taken her in when she had nothing. Six months ago, I tried to set a deadline for her to move out. She said she couldn’t — no money, her son’s school nearby, how could I throw her out? I feel trapped. My home doesn’t feel like mine anymore. I come in quietly so I don’t wake the child, eat dinner in my room to avoid rows, and spend more time out than in. I still live here, but it no longer feels like home. She acts as if the house is hers. I pay for everything, yet I’m called selfish whenever I ask for order. I desperately need advice.

Im 41, and the house I live in once belonged to my grandparents. After they passed, my mother stayed here, and when she too was gone, the house was left to me. Its always been a quiet, tidy, and peaceful place. I work all day and come home to an empty house. Never did I imagine all that would unravel because of one decision I made, thinking I was simply helping out.

Two years ago, a distant cousin rang me up in tears. She was splitting up with her partner, had a little boy, and nowhere else to go. She begged if she and her son could stay with me for a few months while she got herself sorted. I agreed, mostly out of family obligation and because I didnt think it would disturb my life. At first, it went smoothly she took one room and chipped in a bit with the bills, heading off early for work each day. Her son spent his days at a neighbours. There were no real issues.

Three months in, she quit her job. Told me it was only temporary, that she was searching for something better. But then she began spending all her time at home, and her son stopped going to the neighbours he was with us now. The house started to change: toys scattered everywhere, constant noise, and unexpected visitors dropping by. Id get home exhausted and find strangers sat in my living room. When I asked her to at least give me a heads up, she brushed me off and insisted I was overreacting, telling me, This is my home now, too.

In time, she stopped contributing to expenses first saying she couldnt manage, then promising shed make it up to me. I ended up footing the bill for everything: utilities, food, repairs. One evening, I came home to discover shed rearranged the furniture to make it cosier. She hadnt asked. She just did it. When I complained, she took offence and told me I was cold, that I didnt understand what living as a family meant.

Things grew even more tense when she began inviting her ex around. The same man she claimed she was escaping. Hed show up at night, sleep over, use my shower, and eat here. One day, I caught him leaving my bedroom, explaining hed just grabbed a jacket without permission. Thats when I said enough was enough, that I needed boundaries in my own home. She burst into tears and started yelling, reminding me that Id taken her in when she had nothing.

Six months ago, I tried to set a date for her to move out. She insisted she couldnt no money, her son was settled in the nearby primary school, how could I just throw her out? Now, I feel trapped. My home doesnt feel like mine anymore. I creep around quietly so I dont wake the boy, eat my meals in my room to avoid rows, and I spend more time out than in.

Im still living here, but it no longer feels like home. She acts like the place is hers. I pay for everything, yet when I try to restore some order, Im branded selfish. I find myself yearning for my own peace, and Im not quite sure what to do.

If theres anything Ive learned, its that setting boundaries from the start is vital, especially with family. Good intentions can so easily lead to a situation where you lose your own sense of home.