I Became The Pariah Of The Family

I would sometimes snap back using my parents’ sarcastic tone, and the conversation would end with a floor covered in shattered dishes.

“How much money did we waste on your education all these years? Do you want to see the itemized bill? Other people your age are already bringing home big money for their families. Have you calculated the net loss you’ve cost us? How can you even compare yourself to Patrick? Don’t you have any self-awareness about where you stand?”

Whom should I compare myself to then?

I was expected to compare my grades to the top of the class, but my spending to the bottom. Ideally, I should have been a full-time student earning six figures on the side while remaining a submissive and obedient shadow.

Back then, I was trapped in the cage of poverty and gasping like a fish in a drying puddle. I was held captive by the very things I needed to survive.

Her leverage was always that she “did not make me drop out.” Indeed, she did not. But providing an education was a parental duty, not a divine favor.

It was not until much later, when I saw healthy families, where children spent their parents’ money with confidence instead of crushing guilt, that I had an epiphany.

It was not that she had been “good enough” to me. It was that I had always been good enough. I started building boundaries and tried to live for myself, but the momentum of a lifetime of conditioning still tripped me up.

It was a deep and agonizing pain.

Three days later, Mom called about the phone.

One of her “Buy Now, Pay Later” installments had been processed.

“See? This is why I complain about you! Give me the money back right now. This is all because of that stupid phone you bought me.”

She had realized that playing dumb paid better than actually working.

Her willingness to learn any new skill had completely regressed, to the point where she was genuinely, annoyingly ignorant. Yet, she did not even realize how embarrassing it was.

Living with dignity required the ability to keep learning and the ability to keep earning.

“Just file a dispute yourself,” I replied while biting back my rage.

I pushed the problem back to her. She went silent.

Predictably, fifteen days after the items were delivered, the next auto-pay hit.

She called me again frantically. “Transfer me the money! I never would have bought these things if it weren’t for that phone.”

“If you return the items, the money goes back into your account,” I told her calmly.

“I’ve already worn the shoes and clothes! How can I return them? It’s been seven days. Besides, it’s too much trouble to ask for help. It’s a hassle.”

I suddenly realized that someone had been coaching her on those talking points because she did not have the initiative to come up with them herself.

That “someone” could only be the person wearing the new clothes. I figured it was Kevin Flinch, my cousin. He was the one actually benefiting from the spending spree.

“Ask Patrick to handle it. He knows how to do it.”

She seemed to be terrified of Patrick disliking her, so she immediately started making excuses, claiming that Patrick had not had new clothes in forever. As if his wardrobe were somehow my responsibility. I went silent for a moment before deciding to let this problem rot between the two of them.

“Then buy clothes for him yourself. I don’t care.”

She sounded genuinely distressed.

“With what money?! It’s only because the phone you bought kept suggesting these things that I bought them. I never would have spent this much otherwise. You need to come over here as soon as possible. Either give me the cash or handle the refund for me!”