So my father willed me a modest apartment abroad. Before he passed away a few years ago.
I’ve been trying to write lately about the family dynamics where I grew up. And I’ve been feeling immediately exhausted after I start.
I tried writing it as a fictitious story, to save face and all the embarrassment that yes this is/was my family! However, that didn’t work either! Chuckle. My cover was blown within seconds of ‘some’ reading it here 🙂
It’s been hard.
My relationship with my sister is strained again. This time around, is probably the end.
Before you jump into conclusions about how I should have worked harder on ‘saving it’, let me assure you, I tried.
The truth is, my sister was interested in me for her gain. She wanted my little apartment. Oh well…Yes it’s not something one can say ‘wow! I’m proud of my family! They really care and are very fair’! They’re not.
My family does not need my little place that my father willed me. They have inherited 100 times more than I did. I left when I was 17. I was labeled the black sheep from the beginning. I never felt that I belonged there. I was never able to fit in. So after I left, I basically ceased to exist!
Then why did they decide to take it?!
I don’t know.
I am no longer interested to know.
How come?! Shouldn’t I ‘fight’ for what’s mine?!
Yes. I should. And I tried. Until I discovered, all the excuses they’ve been making over the past two years of me saying clearly ‘I need the apartment to be transferred to my name or sold or whatever…’ All those excuses they kept making, are never going to stop.