Growing up, my younger brother was always the apple of my mum and grandmothers eye. They doted on him, making him the centre of attention while I tended to fade into the background. He had the finest toys, the sweetest treats, freshly baked cakes, berriesanything he fancied. Meanwhile, I was often overlooked, left to tidy up after him, make his bed, and prepare his breakfast. I felt deeply hurt by how I was treated, as if I were his maid, always running around to fulfil his every whim.
This pattern became increasingly troubling to me, especially considering Mums earlier experiences. Her own marriage ended poorly, after shed suffered at the hands of her husbanda man who never valued her. It pained me to see her raising my brother in much the same mould. Whenever I tried to protest, my objections were swiftly dismissed and my position never changed. I recall vividly the challenges I faced during my final year at school, cramming for my A-levels. Despite my studies, Mum and Gran would call me into the kitchen every few minutes, urging me to drop everything and feed my brother. Your brother comes first, theyd say, always putting his needs ahead of mine. The work was utterly overwhelming, but my commitment to my education saw me through.
When it came time to prepare for university entrance, Gran even questioned the point of a womans education. She urged me to focus on marriage, children, and running a home, dismissing my ambitions as unnecessary. But I refused to give in. I finished my degree, determined to break the cycle. By then, the burden had grown too heavy, and I resolved to leave home. I simply couldn’t bear to be held accountable for my brother any longer. My departure infuriated Mum and Gran, especially since Gran had to give up her job to care for her precious grandson.
Leaving was one of the hardest choices Ive ever made, but it was vital for my own happiness and growth. I knew I deserved more than the role of a servant, and I was resolute in building a life where my worth would be seen and respected.
