I was the eldest child in the family, you knowthere were five of us altogether. Because I was the oldest, every job and responsibility to do with my younger siblings naturally fell straight onto me. My parents both worked full time, so as a kid, all I wanted was a bit of free time for myself, but honestly, it was just a dream.
Even with friends, it was toughI never really fitted in. Nobody wanted to hang out with me, and theyd make fun, calling me names.
Sometimes, I just couldnt take it anymore, and Id start shouting that Id had enough of looking after the little ones, that I wanted to go outside, find some actual mates, have a life. And for that, my dad would always give me a hiding.
He never held back, either. Any mistake, the smallest thing, and Id get smacked. As soon as I finished secondary schoolYear 11 heremy parents shipped me off to learn to be a cook. It wasnt my dream job or anything, but they insisted it was practical, said the family would never go hungry if I knew how to cook.
After college, I went straight into work. And the moment I came home after the first shift, it happened again. I got a telling off, and worse, because I hadnt brought anything home from worktheyd been waiting for it! Dad yelled the usual, called me useless, a simpleton, that sort of thing. I got home from a long shift, absolutely starving. They had no clue its not exactly right to nick cash or food from work.
Theyd already earmarked my first paycheck for their own shopping list toobits for my siblings, the groceries, the works. But as soon as I got my wages, I just couldnt do it anymore. I headed straight to the coach station and bought a ticket for wherever the next bus was going. Id just had enough of life at home. It was terrifying, of courseI didnt want to go back to my parents place even for a night.
It wasnt easy at all to start with, but in a way, it was simpler. My life was in my own hands, and finally, no one was calling the shots but me. I worked like maddid a stint as a cleaner, then as a kitchen porter, before I landed a job as a cook.
From then on, things were just alright. I never had big money struggles and I picked up the habit of saving wherever I could. I really wanted my own flat, that was the goal. For a fair while, I lived with an older lady, a lovely gran who always took pity on me, made sure I had a hot meal. Im beyond grateful for her kindness. That was my life, and honestly, I was properly happy!
Three years down the road, I met the man whod become my husband. We started our own family, and I moved in with his folks. We all got along well. Our daughter came along first, then our son. My daughter had a lovely childhoodI never made her look after her brother unless she really wanted to.
Then, out of nowhere, I started dreaming about visiting my mum and dad again, except in my dreams they were totally differentgentle, caring, loving even. So I decided, for better or worse, to go and see them. My husband and I packed up the kids for a weekend trip.
We bought presents and set off to see them. But the dreams were just dreams, werent they? Before I was even through the front door, they were shouting at me, blaming me for everything under the sun.
They didnt even look at their own grandchildren. You could tell they just wanted to let out years of bitterness at me, all at once. I listened for a minute, then quietly told my husband we were leaving. I took all the presents back with us, too. I dont know what others would make of it, but for methat was it. Ill never step foot in that house again.
