“You’re nobody to me, and I don’t have to listen to you!” my stepdaughter snapped at me again.
Five years ago, I, Emily, married David, and ever since, my life in a small town near Manchester has felt like a constant battle for peace at home. David has a daughter from his first marriage, 14-year-old Olivia, who he sees often and supports financially. I’ve never minded their relationship—in fact, his ex-wife, Charlotte, and I get along well, almost like friends. But Olivia, with her teenage rebellion, has become a real challenge, and her words—”you’re nobody to me”—cut deep every time.
Charlotte’s sensible. If she wants Olivia to stay with us, she always calls ahead to check if it’s okay. Sometimes we just chat on the phone like mates. She doesn’t hold a grudge against David—after the divorce, he let her keep the house they bought together, and his share went to Olivia. David, our two-year-old son, Harry, and I live in my two-bedroom flat. David provides for us while I’m on maternity leave, focusing on our little one. But since Olivia started staying over, chaos took over, and I’ve had enough.
Lately, Olivia’s been acting out. Charlotte remarried, and her new husband, James, moved in. At first, Olivia was excited, but soon, she started rebelling. When James asked her to clean up after herself, she’d snap, “You’re not my dad—don’t tell me what to do!” Even though James tried to bond, bought her gifts, and stayed patient, Olivia pushed him away. She became impossible—leaving dishes, ignoring chores, snapping at every request. In one argument, she yelled at James, “This is Mum’s house—you don’t belong here!” David was furious when he found out—they rent out his old place, and that money helps support Charlotte’s household. Charlotte scolded Olivia, and in tears, she begged David to take her in.
I didn’t object. Harry sleeps in our room, and the living room sofa folds out for guests. I called Charlotte to make sure she was okay with it. She agreed but warned, “If Olivia misbehaves, call me straight away.” Olivia arrived sulking but soon settled in—on her own terms. She ignored my requests, sulked at every remark, left messes everywhere, and spent hours gossiping with friends on the phone. I felt my temper rising but bit my tongue for David’s sake.
Finally, I asked David to talk to her. “She doesn’t take me seriously,” I said. He tried, but Olivia brushed him off. When I asked her to clear the table, she hissed, “You’re nobody to me—I don’t have to listen to you!” My chest ached. Fighting tears, I said, “I’m your dad’s wife, and this is my home. You’re only here because I allow it. Don’t speak to me like that!” She stormed out, slamming the door. Nothing changed—she still acted like I didn’t exist.
I talked to David, then called Charlotte. “I hoped she’d at least listen to her dad,” Charlotte sighed. “Bring her back. You’ve got enough on your plate with the baby.” David told Olivia they were taking her home. She packed in silence, then called her grandma, whining about being “kicked out everywhere.” But Granny Margaret didn’t take her side. As Charlotte later told me, Olivia had hoped Margaret would take her in, but she’d just started dating again and wasn’t up for babysitting. Now Olivia’s on strict chores as punishment.
Charlotte understands, and we’re on the same page. But Granny Margaret stirs the pot. “Poor Olivia! Everyone’s abandoned her! Her dad’s got a new wife, her mum’s got a new husband—no one cares about her!” she wailed. I snapped, “Of course, especially not Granny, who’s too busy with her love life to bother.” She hung up, but I don’t care. What matters is David and Charlotte back me. Olivia even called yesterday, apologised, promised to do better. But the hurt from her words lingers. I tried to be a mum to her, treated her like my own, and she keeps pushing me away. My heart aches—I just want peace, but I don’t know how to reach her. If she throws “you’re nobody” at me again, I’m not sure I’ll keep my cool.
