When my parents got older, I became the one they depended on — not because they trusted me, but because my brother refused to help. He was always their favorite. I was just the dependable one.
They always showed who they cared about more. They paid for my brother’s college, bought him a car, helped him buy a house, and even rescued him when he lost his job from a bad investment. They said he “needed support.”
Me? I was the “independent one,” which really meant they never helped me and expected me to handle everything alone.
When they became weak and asked me to move in and take care of them — because my brother, their favorite, said no — I wasn’t sure what to do. Part of me still wanted them to value me, but another part was tired of being ignored and finally wanted to set limits.
“I’ll help,” I said, “but only if you agree to one rule.”
My mom looked confused. “What rule?”
“No more guilt. And if you want me to take care of you, you leave everything to me. You spent your whole lives giving everything to my brother — now it’s my turn.”
My dad laughed and said, “So you want to be paid for being our daughter?”
I looked at him and said, “No. I want to be treated fairly as one.”
After that, everything went quiet. Months passed with no word from them. I thought they chose their pride instead of accepting my condition. Then one day, my mom texted me: “We changed the will.”
I didn’t move in, but I visited every week. I cooked, cleaned, handled their bills, and took them to their checkups. We never talked about our agreement again, but something changed. My mom began thanking me for the little things. My dad started asking about my life — and actually listening.
For the first time, I think they finally saw me — not just as the dependable one, but as their daughter who learned to stand up for herself.