We have two children, but it feels as if our parents love only one of us.
From an early age I sensed that my parents favored my sister, Poppy, over me. They reinforced that feeling when they moved Poppy, her husband Edward, and their two little ones into the family home in Reading and told me I had to find my own flat because with your remote job you can afford a place of your own.
While Poppy was at university in Oxford, my parents hovered around her like a protective shadow, handling every errand for the college, stepping in whenever a lecture ran late, and now looking after her children. I never received that kind of assistance, and now they are pushing me out of the house.
My father says that, being a man, I should be able to take care of myself, yet somehow my brotherinlaw, who is older than me, is not expected to support his own family.
During the heated argument about the move I foolishly claimed that I was just as entitled to the flat as Poppy and that I deserved a share of it. My mother snapped that they still live there, called me a pig for bringing up the division of property, and Poppy accused me of trying to evict her and her kids.
Legally there is little I can do; Im certain my parents could draft a new will at any moment and cut me out completely.
Can a family really be torn apart over a house? I am still their child, yet I am treated like a stranger. It makes me wonder why they ever bothered to have two children if one of us is considered expendable.
The only comfort I can find is that a house is just walls and a roof, whereas selfrespect and the knowledge that my worth isnt defined by anyones favour are things no one can take away.
