For Years, My Parents Made Excuses For Excluding Me From Family Trips..

Choosing Sides

I pull out my phone again and call Deborah, putting her on speaker before it even starts ringing. She picks up on the second ring.

“My dad is in my apartment refusing to leave.” I tell her.

I ask if David can come over because I know my father will not make a scene in front of his brother-in-law. Deborah starts to say David doesn’t need to bother, but I talk over her.

“Please.” I say.

My father’s expression changes from disappointed to angry. He points to my phone.

“I’m choosing sides and destroying the family by calling Deborah instead of working this out together.” He says.

“I’m proving everything he just said about her manipulating me.” He says.

And then he slams the door so hard behind him that the picture frames on my wall shake. My neighbor opens her door and peaks out to see what the noise was.

“Everything is fine.” I wave at her and say, before closing and locking my door.

David shows up 15 minutes later even though Deborah told him not to bother. He knocks on the door, identifies himself, and walks through my entire apartment checking the locks on the windows and making sure the door deadbolt works properly.

He asks if my father has a key and I say no because I never gave my parents one. David nods.

“That’s fine.” He says.

Then he offers to stay on my couch tonight in case my father returns. I say no, but I appreciate it more than words can express.

He pulls me into a hug and says I’m his daughter too. He says he’s proud of me for standing up for myself even if it’s difficult and scary.

I hug him back and feel myself getting emotional, but I keep it together. I can’t sleep that night and I keep going over everything my father said, wondering if I’m being too harsh on them.

I stare at my ceiling for hours trying to figure out if I’m the problem. David stays for another hour just sitting with me on the couch, not saying much, just being there.

When he finally leaves, he tells me to call him if anything else happens and I lock the door behind him. Then around 2:00 a.m. I remember my college graduation.

I remember how I sat in that audience watching other families take pictures and celebrate while my parents were at some birthday party for Ryan’s girlfriend whom they barely knew. Deborah drove four hours each way just to see me walk across a stage for 30 seconds while my parents couldn’t drive 15 minutes.

After that, I stop wondering if I’m being unreasonable and fall asleep around 3:00. My alarm goes off at 6:00 a.m. for work and I feel like garbage, but I drag myself up anyway.

The Wall of Text

I’m making coffee when my phone buzzes with a text from Emily, and I almost don’t open it, but I do. It’s a massive wall of text about how I’ve always been difficult and caused problems in the family.

She gives numerous examples from our childhood. She brings up the time I sobbed at her birthday party when I was six because no one would play with me or the time I refused to share my toys with Ryan when I was eight.

She rewrites every memory to make me the villain in situations where I was literally just a kid existing. She says I was always jealous of her relationship with her mother and that I made family dinners awkward by being quiet and sullen.

I read through it twice and can’t believe what I’m seeing. She’s making stuff up or twisting normal kid behavior into evidence that I’m some kind of problem child who deserves to be excluded.

I don’t respond to her, but I screenshot every single message and send them all to Deborah. My phone rings about 20 seconds later and Deborah is already talking before I even say hello.

We spend the next hour going through Emily’s messages line by line. Deborah points out all the ways Emily is gaslighting me and manipulating the narrative.

Deborah remembers most of these events differently or knows the real context that Emily left out. Deborah was at the birthday party where I cried, and she remembers Emily’s friends being actively mean to me and making fun of my dress.

The toy incident with Ryan occurred shortly after he intentionally broke my favorite doll and my parents forced me to apologize to him. Deborah becomes increasingly enraged as we go through everything, stating she can’t believe Emily would try this manipulation method.

She describes it as classic scapegoat behavior in which one family member is blamed for everything so that the others don’t have to face their own misdeeds. Deborah mentions that her sister saw more comments on Emily’s Instagram post about the family trip planning and apparently extended family members are weighing in now.

Some of them are defending me saying they always wondered why I wasn’t at family events. Deborah says: “One cousin commented asking why I wasn’t in the family group chat.”

And another aunt thought it was strange that I missed so many holidays. This is apparently making my parents really angry because now people are asking uncomfortable questions instead of just accepting whatever excuse my mother gives.

Deborah seems almost happy about it which makes me feel less guilty for causing drama. We finally hang up and I’m running late for work, but I feel better knowing Deborah sees exactly what Emily is trying to do.

The Workspace Disturbance

I’ve been at my desk for about two hours when my phone rings and it’s my dad’s number. I almost don’t answer, but something makes me pick it up and it’s my mother crying.

She’s using my father’s phone because I’ve been ignoring her calls from her own number. She’s sobbing about how I’ve turned the entire family against them.

She cries about how relatives are asking her why they excluded me and she doesn’t know what to say. She keeps saying I’m making them look like bad parents and that I’m being cruel by not defending them to extended family.

I let her talk for a minute and then tell her that I didn’t turn anyone against them. They did that by lying about me for 10 years.

She starts to argue that they never lied. They just didn’t want to burden me with trips I wouldn’t enjoy.

I tell her that’s also a lie and I hang up before she can say anything else. For the first time since this whole thing began, I don’t feel crazy for being hurt by their actions.

That afternoon Ryan leaves me a message and I can tell right away that my parents created a script for him because he sounds like he is reading. He talks about family forgiveness, moving forward together, and healing old wounds.

But he never says what they did wrong, acknowledges that they excluded me, or offers any kind of actual apology. The entire message is about four minutes long and he sounds uncomfortable the entire time as if he knows this is garbage but he’s doing it regardless.

A New Little Sister

We’re making a volcano for her science class and there’s papier-mâché all over the place. Lily has a serious expression on her face.

She asks if she can call me her sister instead of her cousin because that’s what I really am to her. I tell her I’d be honored and she wraps her arms around me getting papier-mâché paste all over us.

When Deborah walks in and sees us hugging her eyes well up with tears. She doesn’t say anything but I can tell how much it means to her.

David comes in and asks what he missed. Lily announces that I’m now officially her sister.

David grins and says he always knew I was a part of the family. We finish the volcano and order pizza and everything feels fine.

Monday morning I’m at work eating lunch at my desk when the receptionist calls. She says there’s someone here to see me and she sounds uncertain.

I ask who it is and she says it’s my father. My stomach drops but I take a breath and ask if he’s causing problems.

She says no but he insists on speaking with me. I tell her to notify security and I don’t want to see him.

There’s a pause and she says okay she’ll handle it. I can hear her talking to someone in the background.

She comes back on the line. She says security is with him now and asks if I want to see him.

I say no again, this time more clearly, and realize I have the power to enforce my boundaries. I don’t have to see him just because he showed up.

The receptionist says she’ll take care of it and hangs up. I sit at my desk trying to concentrate on my computer screen but my hands are shaking.

About eight minutes later the receptionist calls back. “My father left but he left a note for me with security.” She says.

She asks if I want her to bring it up. I say yes and she arrives a few minutes later with a sealed envelope.

I thank her and she gives me a sympathetic glance before returning downstairs. I open the package and take out a piece of paper covered in my father’s handwriting.

The first line reads: “I’m breaking my mother’s heart and destroying the family.”

I don’t read the rest. I fold the paper back up, walk to the break room, and throw it in the trash. I’m done accepting blame for their decisions.