“Oh, so now you two need to talk?” Now that the bills were piling up and reality was finally catching up with them, I waited an hour before replying: “There’s nothing to discuss. You’ve made your decision.”
“You’ll have to live with that now.” I thought that settled it. I was absolutely certain I had made my position clear, and I didn’t regret it one bit.
But then Eric decided to intervene. That same evening I received a text message from him. As soon as I saw his name on the screen, I knew it was going to be annoying.
I opened it, and indeed it was pure arrogance: “Jacob, man, what’s all the fuss about? It’s not the end of the world. Just help them like always.”
I almost laughed. “Isn’t this the end of the world?” I was absolutely convinced that I had no right to be angry. I replied immediately:
“No, I think it’s your responsibility now. After all, you’re the favorite.” Eric:
“Jesus Christ, are you really getting upset about a will? Grow up, man. It’s just about money. Yeah.”
Now that the money belonged to him, it suddenly didn’t matter anymore. That was a striking irony. I replied:
“Well, it’s just money, it shouldn’t be too hard for you to spend it on the mortgage, should it?” Silence. A few minutes later, another message from his mother. This time he was plagued by a guilty conscience.
Mother: Jacob. We are your parents.
We as a family take care of each other. We did so much for you when you were little. And now you’re just leaving us.
I took a deep breath to keep from throwing the phone against the wall. Abandon them? For years I had made sure they were well cared for while I had coddled Eric and encouraged his laziness.
And now that they finally had to face the consequences of their own decisions, I was the villain? But this time I didn’t believe it. I retorted, “You made it clear that I wasn’t part of the family when you disinherited me.”
Now Eric’s going to take care of you. I could almost hear Mom’s theatrical gasps in my head, the way she always did when she wanted to play innocent, even when she was in the wrong. A few minutes later, I got a text from Dad, and it made me furious…
Father: “We’re not asking for much. Just help us with the mortgage for a few more months while we sort things out. Don’t be selfish.”
Selfish? The word filled me with rage. For years I had helped them out of tight spots, sacrificing my money, my time, and my energy to make their lives easier. I had done everything a good son should do.
And how did they thank me? By leaving me empty-handed. And now that I finally stood up for myself, I was the selfish one? I gritted my teeth, took a deep breath, and typed: “No, I’m done.”
After that, I simply switched off my phone. They had made their decision. Now they had to accept it.
The silence lasted exactly one day. I knew my parents wouldn’t give up so easily, but I wasn’t ready for it. The next morning, I woke up to a notification: “Money transfer request.”
I frowned, unlocked my phone, and checked. It was from my mother. She had actually asked me for money, as if it were an ATM.
The amount: $5,000. I stared at the screen, half stunned, half amused by the audacity. There was no message.
För fullständiga tillagningssteg, gå till nästa sida eller klicka på Öppna-knappen (>), och glöm inte att DELA med dina Facebook-vänner.
No explanation. Just a cold, brazen demand for the exact amount they needed to pay off the overdue mortgage. They hadn’t even asked.
They simply assumed I would pay. I refused their request without hesitation. Less than five minutes later, my phone rang.
“Mom?” I didn’t answer. A text message arrived: “Mom: Jacob, I know you saw the request.”
“Why did you refuse?” I didn’t answer immediately. Finally, I typed: “Because it’s not my responsibility.”
“Try Eric.” Another call. Rejected…
Another message arrived: “Mom: We’ll lose the house if you don’t help us.” Oh, so now it’s an emergency? After all these years of serving as their walking wallet, they were finally feeling the consequences of their decision.
I replied, “I should have thought about that before deciding it wasn’t important to you.” A few seconds later, I received a text message from Dad:
Father: Do you really want to let your parents become homeless? I laughed out loud. The manipulation was so obvious it was almost comical. They weren’t homeless, after all.
Nobody kicked them out. They just didn’t want to touch their savings because they were used to me paying for everything. I ignored them for the rest of the day. But that evening, Eric texted me:
Eric: Man, send them the money now. You’re making a mountain out of a molehill. I gritted my teeth. This idiot was about to give me a lecture.
I replied, “You mean the inherited money? Why don’t you pay?” The answer came promptly:
Eric: You know I don’t have that much money right now. “Oh, so that’s what it’s about. It’s all about who has the money?” When I spent my savings on it, everything was fine.
But when it was his turn, he was suddenly broke. I wrote to him: “Well, buddy, I guess you’ll have to deal with it…”
“After all, they elected you.” No answer. I went to bed with an unexpected sense of relief.
I had finally broken free from those shackles. But the next day everything only got worse. I was at work in Chicago when the receptionist at my apartment building called.
“Hey, Jacob, your parents are here.” I almost dropped the phone. “What?” the girl on the other end of the line asked hesitantly.
They say it’s urgent. And you’re not answering the phone? Oh my God! Did they really drive all the way to Chicago just because I stopped paying?
I took a deep breath, held my nose, and said, “Don’t let her in. I’m not expecting her.” An awkward silence ensued.
“Um, they’re… a bit pushy.” I gritted my teeth.
“I don’t care. Tell them to leave.” I hung up and immediately received a text message:
Mother: We’re downstairs. Open the door. No questions.
För fullständiga tillagningssteg, gå till nästa sida eller klicka på Öppna-knappen (>), och glöm inte att DELA med dina Facebook-vänner.
No explanations. Just another demand. I didn’t respond.
Another message: “Mom: We’re not leaving until you talk to us.” I exhaled sharply and leaned back in my chair.
They didn’t back down. Good. I was ready to teach them a lesson they’d never forget. I grabbed my keys and headed downstairs, my anger growing with every step.
I wasn’t scared. I was furious. What kind of nerve does it take to show up uninvited at my door in Chicago and demand money like it’s their personal ATM? They didn’t even knock.
They didn’t even apologize. It was pure, blatant coercion. They actually thought they could corner me and force me into obedience as if I were a small child.
I flung the door open. And there they were. Mom.
Dad. And of course Eric. Shoulder to shoulder, as if they were staging a family intervention…
Mom had her arms crossed, her typically critical gaze as sharp as ever. Dad stood there, his face tense, his hands in his pockets. Disappointment and contempt were reflected in his eyes.
As if he couldn’t believe he had to deal with it personally. And Eric? That guy had the nerve to look bored, as if he couldn’t care less. As if he weren’t the cause of this whole mess.
As soon as Mom saw me, she adopted a dramatic tone: “Jacob, finally. We need to talk.”
I leaned against the doorframe with my arms crossed: “No. You have to go.”
She blinked as if she couldn’t grasp what I had just said: “What?” “You heard me correctly.” My voice was calm, controlled, but firm.
“You can’t just show up at my door and demand money. That’s insane!” Dad snorted sharply.
“Do you really want us to lose the house over something so trivial?” I gave a cold laugh. “Something so trivial?” I took a step forward. “You mean the one where you decided I’m good enough to pay your bills, but not good enough to be included in your will?” “That trivial thing?” Mom gasped, placing a hand on her heart as if I’d just slapped her.
“Jacob, that’s not fair. We only did what was best for the family.” I inclined my head and looked at her with obvious interest.
“What’s best for the family? Do you mean what’s best for Eric? Say so.” Silence. A deafening, oppressive silence.
Eric, who had been suspiciously quiet until then, finally opened his mouth: “Listen, man, I don’t want to get involved in this. I didn’t ask for anything.” I turned to him and finally let out my pent-up anger:
“No. You just sat there and took everything they gave you.” I leaned closer to him and looked directly into his face.
“You’re twenty-eight, Eric. Get yourself a job!” His face instantly turned red.
“Dude, are you kidding me?” You understood me perfectly. I took another step forward.
You want to inherit the house? Then behave like a proper homeowner! Or do you want to be the spoiled brat? He pays his damn bills.
I straightened up and folded my arms. “I don’t want to be your personal bank anymore.” Eric looked away, suddenly fascinated by the sidewalk.
Mom took a deep breath, clearly prepared for another wave of emotional strain. “Jacob, he’s your brother.” I nodded.
“Yes. And I’ve been supporting him longer than you have.” The father’s face darkened.
“You’re selfish.” I laughed. Honestly.
“Oh, how ironic, isn’t it?” I waved to them. “You two decided that Eric deserves everything, and I get nothing.”
I leaned closer to him. “And now that you have to face the consequences of your decision, you’re trying to force me to correct it.” I shook my head.
“That won’t happen.” Mom’s voice hardened. “We thought you’d be the sensible one in this situation.”
För fullständiga tillagningssteg, gå till nästa sida eller klicka på Öppna-knappen (>), och glöm inte att DELA med dina Facebook-vänner.
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you mean an adult who silently accepts betrayal and continues to pay the bills?” I shook my head.
“Mom, don’t pretend. That’s exactly what you wanted.” Dad took a step forward and tried to push himself on me, just like he had done as a child…
Jacob, we raised you. We fed you and clothed you. We gave you everything you have.
He raised his eyebrows. “The least you can do is help us now.” I met his gaze.
“I’ve helped you before. For years.” I leaned closer to him. “And you thanked me by banishing me from your lives.”
Mom’s lips trembled. “We thought… you’d understand.” I exhaled heavily and shook my head. “Oh, I see.”
I looked at her. “I realize that I was never part of your family. Just a wallet.”
Silence again. But this time it was oppressive and suffocating. I turned to Eric, who had been acting as if he weren’t there the whole time.
“And you? Do you have an excuse?” I folded my arms. You’ve had years to grow up. Take control of your own life.
I had just started to do something. But you hadn’t.” I paused and, looking him directly in the eyes, said the last thing I had to say:
“Because you knew they’d always take care of you.” I narrowed my eyes. “And when they were gone, you just thought I’d take over.” “What am I supposed to say to that?” Eric finally blurted out.
“I didn’t ask for it.” I nodded slowly. “Of course you didn’t ask for it.”
“You simply took advantage of it.” His mouth opened and closed again. I said nothing.
Mom made one last attempt to show compassion: “Jacob, we are family. And in a family, you take care of each other.”
I stared at her for a long moment and then replied slowly, “Exactly.” “Then why did you never take care of me?” She froze.
No words. No excuses. Nothing.
I breathed out deeply. I felt lighter than I had in years: “We did it.”
I turned around, went back to the building, and slammed the door in their faces. I hadn’t even made it to the couch when my phone vibrated. A text from Dad:
After everything we’ve done for you, are you really abandoning us now? I grinned and replied, “No, you abandoned me.”
“I finally accept it now.” I pressed send and blocked her numbers. But I had no idea that this would only make things worse.
Less than a day later, everything spiraled out of control. I started reading Facebook posts. My parents were never particularly tech-savvy, but somehow they knew how to create a stir on social media, especially when things were going well for them…
At first I thought it was just another one of her gimmicks, because that was her modus operandi: airing family matters in public. But when I checked my newsfeeds, it dawned on me. It wasn’t just about me no longer receiving financial support.
The posts were disguised as expressions of familial love. In reality, however, they were veiled attacks on me. My mother wrote something to the effect of: “I didn’t raise my son to be so selfish.”
För fullständiga tillagningssteg, gå till nästa sida eller klicka på Öppna-knappen (>), och glöm inte att DELA med dina Facebook-vänner.
“A real family always sticks together, no matter what.” In the comments, her friends wrote that I was “a disappointment” and had “forgotten what’s important in life.” My father also weighed in:
Real families don’t abandon each other in tough times. We gave our children everything, and this is the thanks we get? Our son, who was supposed to help us, just ran away,” she added in a passive-aggressive tone. “Well, have fun with that.”
The real blow, however, came from Eric. I should have known he wouldn’t miss an opportunity to add fuel to the fire. He published a post full of lies:
Some people think family is just about money. They don’t understand that family means love and sacrifice. I would do anything for my parents, but some people just don’t get it.
“They are too self-centered to understand that true love means taking care of those who raised you.” And of course, he added another point: “I wish some people would understand what it means to be a real family.”
I love my parents and am grateful for everything. That was the highlight of my day. I stared at the screen in disbelief.
How could it have come to this? They completely twisted the situation. Now I was the villain. The selfish son who hadn’t supported his devoted parents.
The son, who didn’t appreciate all the love they had given him. How could he? I had always been the one who had worked. The one who had helped…
The one who had never complained. I had to accept that they had convinced themselves they were right and were now telling everyone I was the problem. I didn’t want to react immediately.
I paused, calmed myself down, and waited a few hours. I didn’t want to get involved in petty online arguments. But the longer I thought about it, the clearer it became.
I couldn’t let that stand. If they were going to damage my reputation, I would clear everything up. I grabbed my phone, opened my private Facebook account—the one only for close friends and family—and started writing a long post.
I didn’t want to play along. I didn’t want a pointless discussion. I wanted to tell the truth…
Here’s what I wrote: “I’ve been silent for the past few days, but I can’t stay silent any longer. My family is spreading lies about me online.”
They portray me as the villain, the selfish one who refused to help his parents in a difficult situation. It’s time to set the record straight. I have always helped my family.
Since I got my first job in Chicago, I’ve paid the bills, bought the food, and supported my parents as much as I could. But at some point, you can’t just keep giving when you don’t get the slightest bit of respect in return. For years, I had to watch as my parents chose Eric.
The house, the money, the attention – everything belonged to him. And all they expected from me was that I always gave, without ever seeing myself as an equal. I’m sure some of you are thinking now: “Well, that’s just how families are.”
But the truth is, family is based on reciprocity. When I learned that my parents had left everything to Eric in their will, I realized how one-sided this relationship was. They hadn’t even considered me.
Not for a second. To them, I was simply the person they could rely on when things went wrong, but never the person they really wanted around when it wasn’t convenient. For years, I financed their lifestyle, paid for their travels, contributed to the bills, and even covered the property taxes for their house outside of Chicago.
And what’s the point of all this? So you only see me as a last resort. That’s it! I’m not a wallet to be used whenever it’s convenient.
I am a human being. I deserve respect. I have earned the right to be valued, not just when someone needs something from me.
As for Eric, it’s high time he grew up. He’s 28 and has never worked a day in his life, never taken on any responsibility. Our parents have tolerated his inactivity for so long; no wonder I’m their favorite.
But there’s a catch: He’s had plenty of time to get his life back on track. Now he has to learn to stand up for himself…
To everyone who has followed this drama and sided with my parents: Remember: Every story has two sides. Yes, family is important.
But family is based on mutual respect. I’ve given enough. For a lifetime.
And I won’t apologize for finally choosing myself. I’m not turning my back on my family. I’m simply no longer their doormat, no longer their parents.
I wish you all the best. But I will no longer be your footstool. I clicked “Publish” and felt relieved.
For the first time in my life, I had told the truth about my family. About how they had exploited me for years. About how they had always expected me to be their savior…
But I never thought about what I needed. I no longer allowed them to tell my story. The backlash was swift.
People I hadn’t spoken to in years got in touch. Cousins, friends, and even distant relatives liked the post and sent me private messages expressing their condolences. It was an incredible relief to finally be able to tell the truth without being burdened by guilt and manipulation.
But then the outcry began. My parents and Eric were furious. Eric sent me a text message:
För fullständiga tillagningssteg, gå till nästa sida eller klicka på Öppna-knappen (>), och glöm inte att DELA med dina Facebook-vänner.
“You’re a traitor! Did you have to air our dirty laundry in public? You have absolutely no respect for the family!” Dad shouted.
He shouted into the phone: “You’ve destroyed everything, Jacob. You’ll regret this.”
You’ll regret breaking off contact with us. You’ll regret turning your back on your family. But the difference? I don’t regret it.
Not for a second. I blocked them all. I was done.
And for the first time, I was free. Free from her toxic grip. Free from being the scapegoat…
Freed from the endless expectation of solving their problems over and over again. With each passing day, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. I was no longer the person they wanted solely for my abilities.
Now I had the freedom to live my life the way I wanted. That’s why I don’t feel guilty about leaving them. I deserve better.
I still deserve better. And from now on, I will only surround myself with people who appreciate me for who I am – not for what I can give them.
It’s time to move on. And I will. Forever.
