“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Jessica,” she snapped, the sweetness dropping from her voice like a mask that had become inconvenient.
“Everyone else has real responsibilities that they can’t just abandon on a whim. You’re the only one without a family of your own to take care of. You should be grateful that your brother and sister trust you enough with their children.
Do you have any idea what an honor that is? Do you understand how much they’re counting on you?”
Real responsibilities. As if my career didn’t count because it didn’t involve wiping anyone’s nose.
As if my mental health didn’t matter because I wasn’t managing it while also managing tiny humans. As if my life was somehow less legitimate, less important, less deserving of protection and respect because it didn’t look exactly like theirs. Something inside me cracked at those words, but instead of shattering into the guilty compliance she expected, it sharpened into something cold and clear and absolutely done with this particular script.
