**Is It Worth Sacrificing Yourself for Someone Else’s Holiday? How I Refused to Host My In-Laws for Free in Our Seaside Home – And Became an Outcast**
I’ve long accepted that my life isn’t easy. Responsibilities, hard work—it’s all become my norm, and somewhere along the way, I lost myself in it. Now they call me selfish, heartless, greedy—when all I did was say no just once. I share this not for pity, but so you understand: behind every “no” isn’t greed, but exhaustion no one sees.
Our cottage by the sea is what most call idyllic. Spacious, neat, with a garden and a cosy gazebo. But few know the blood and sweat it took to build. My parents left us a crumbling shed on a plot in Cornwall. My husband and I spent over a decade rebuilding it—brick by brick, room by room, all by ourselves. We added an extension, installed plumbing and heating, landscaped the garden, and even built guest cabins.
Now, it’s our livelihood. In summer, when tourists flood in, we rent everything—even our own bedroom. We sleep in the shed on fold-out beds. Guests pay not just for lodging but for home-cooked meals. I’m up at dawn, cooking, washing sheets, cleaning, checking people in and out. By July, I barely remember the last time I ate or slept properly.
Still, I don’t complain. Those summer months keep us afloat the rest of the year. Most of it goes to our daughter and son-in-law—they’re paying off a mortgage, and we’re glad to help. We’re not young anymore, our health isn’t what it was, but we push on.
Then came the blow.
Our daughter recently announced they were off to Spain. Lovely. But then, casually: *”Oh, and my in-laws will stay with you this summer. They’ve never had a proper holiday. Mum, take good care of them—and don’t charge them, will you? They’re pensioners.”* I was speechless.
Her in-laws? The same ones who didn’t bother calling when my husband and I had COVID and the renovations stalled? Who barely stayed an hour at her wedding before leaving? Who hadn’t spoken to us in eight years—until a *free seaside holiday* came up?
I checked my bookings—every day was packed. Even our room was reserved by young parents with a sick child. My husband and I were set to sleep in a tent. And in that chaos—guests, the shed, the tent, the exhaustion—where would I put two elderly people expecting comfort and attention?
It’s not that I begrudge family. But this isn’t a holiday home—it’s how we survive. We have no other income. Tourism only just recovered post-pandemic. And now this.
I told our daughter I couldn’t do it. That I was stretched too thin. The backlash was instant. My husband was hurt: *”They’re family.”* My son-in-law sneered: *”You’re embarrassing us.”* Friends muttered: *”Too posh to share now.”* And our daughter? She just went silent. To them, I’m no longer the woman who held everything together—just a miserly old hag clutching the pennies she scrapes together each summer.
That night, I sat on the porch, listened to the waves, and cried. I’m tired of being the kind one. Tired of giving everything and getting only demands in return. No one asked how I was. No one offered help. No one considered I might just… break.
Now I wonder: do I stand my ground and be hated? Or give in—and wear myself to nothing again, just to keep the peace?
Tell me—what would you do?
