Hey everyone,
First, I want to thank all of you for your kind advice. I was honestly shocked by the number of responses and the overwhelming support—I truly appreciate it. 
A lot has happened since my last post. I tried reaching out to my parents, but they had blocked me, cutting off all contact. Still, I was determined to find closure—the kind my younger self had always wanted. So, I reached out to my older brother and asked if we could meet up to talk.
He refused.
Instead, he berated me, accusing me of being ungrateful and blaming me for the stress and pain our mother was supposedly going through because of me. When I tried to explain my side of things, he dismissed it entirely. I told him it wasn’t fair to assume I was the villain when he had never experienced the treatment I endured growing up. Unlike him, I was the one who had been treated like a personal maid, chef, and therapist for years while receiving little love or attention in return.
But he wasn’t having any of it.
He yelled at me, calling me a narcissist who only thinks about herself. I tried to respond, but my emotions overwhelmed me, and I broke down crying on the phone—before he hung up on me.
That conversation left me questioning myself. Was I really the selfish, narcissistic person my family made me out to be? Doubt crept in, but thankfully, my husband was there to remind me of the truth and support me through it. Still, that lingering sense of guilt wouldn’t go away.
A couple of days later, my dad unexpectedly called and asked me to meet at their house. His voice carried a tone of remorse, so for a brief moment, I allowed myself to hope. Maybe—just maybe—we could work through this, even if my mom didn’t want to help after I gave birth.
After three days of talking to my dad, my husband and I finally went to their house, expecting a discussion between just the four of us. Instead, they had invited my brother and his wife.
From the moment we sat down, I knew where this was going.
My dad started by expressing how disappointed he was in me and how “things never should have escalated to this point.” I agreed—things shouldn’t have gotten this bad—but I also told them that my assumption was reasonable. My mom had helped take care of my sister and my brother’s wife after they had children, so I expected the same. But instead, she had always favored everyone over me, and that realization was frustrating.
I poured my heart out, telling them everything I had held inside for years. How they made me feel unwanted. How exhausting it was to always give without receiving. How much it hurt to never feel like I truly belonged.
And they just… didn’t care.
I saw it in their faces, in their dismissive responses. That moment was the final wake-up call: I meant nothing to them. So why was I fighting so hard to stay part of a family that never wanted me in the first place?
My husband was about to speak, but I stopped him. Everyone else had already made up their minds. They blamed me, refused to acknowledge my feelings, and at the end of it all, my dad asked if I had anything to say to my mom.
I told her I was sorry—not because I felt guilty, but because I didn’t want any lingering bad blood before I closed this chapter of my life. She didn’t say a word. My dad suggested we all take some time to cool off and set boundaries. That was their version of a resolution. And that was it.
Two weeks later, we packed up and moved out of state.
I didn’t tell my family where we were going. Only after we had settled into our new home did I send a long message explaining everything they had done and how it had made me feel over the years. I ended it with a final statement:
I am completely cutting contact with my parents and my older brother.
Then I changed my phone number and blocked them all on social media.
And you know what?
I have never felt this at peace in a long time. My baby will arrive any day now, and while it’s a little stressful, I love this new chapter of my life. My husband and I even hired a helper around the house, so my daily routine now consists of sleeping, eating (a lot), taking walks, and dealing with the joys of back and hip pain—honestly, not a bad life.
Thank you for reading. 
