Am I the for calling the police immediately when my sister’s family broke into my new house with a stolen spare key? Hello, Reddit. I (27F) feel like I’ve spent the majority of my life in the shadow of my older sister, Anna (30F).
She’s always been the favorite, you know, the one smart, social, and capable of charming her way out of any situation. Meanwhile, I’ve been called the irresponsible one, which in my family simply refers to the one who does all of the work but receives no credit. Growing up, Anna always had the best of everything.
Her birthdays were large garden festivities complete with bounce castles and pony rides. Mine was a pizza party in the dining room featuring a cake from the grocery store bakery. Anna got the Barbie Dream House for Christmas, whereas I got a secondhand counterfeit with a missing elevator.
My parents would simply remark, “You don’t need all that fancy stuff,” or, “Be grateful for what you have.”
However, Anna’s gratitude was never required in the same manner. The big separation occurred when I entered college. I had worked hard in high school, juggling AP classes and extracurricular activities to maintain a high GPA.
I was admitted to a local university and believed I had a great plan. I’d commute from home to economize on dorm fees. Anna had attended her dream school, and my parents had funded everything, so I figured they’d benefit me too.
Wrong. When I mentioned my plan to live at home, my mother looked at me as if I had just suggested we relocate to Mars. “If you’re staying here, you’ll need to contribute,” she added casually.
“Anna got a full ride from us because she deserved it. You need to learn responsibility.”
I was eighteen and preparing to enter college, and they were already talking about me paying rent. “Contribute” turned out to be $400 per month for rent and electricity, plus my personal groceries.
That may not seem like much unless you’re a broke college student working part-time at a bookstore for $9 per hour. I attempted to explain, reminding them that they had covered everything for Anna, that she had never had to worry about money at school. Mom simply shrugged.
“We gave Anna what she needed,” she stated. “You’re different. You’re independent.
You’ll figure it out.”
So I did. I worked as many hours as I could at the bookshop, occasionally skipping meals to make ends meet. Every morning, I would pass the campus coffee shop, envious of the students who could purchase lattes and pastries while I brown-bagged PB&J sandwiches and drank free coffee from the bookstore breakroom.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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