For years, I thought I’d made peace with my past, but the look on my parents’ faces when they showed up at my door proved otherwise. After seventeen years, I thought they’d left me behind as a disappointment. Seeing their shock at my house last Friday, I knew things were about to get interesting.
Seventeen years ago, I told them I wouldn’t go to med school. My mother was horrified; my father dismissed my dreams of acting and business. Instead of supporting me, they cut me out and left me with nothing. I scraped by, building a modest business and a career in banking.
Now they were back in Sydney, struggling to buy a home in an inflated market. I suggested they see my place. They were speechless, shocked I owned it. But their admiration quickly turned to judgment, accusing me of hiding my success, even implying I was involved in shady dealings. Finally, my mother said, “We’ll stay with you. We can’t live in a worse place than our own son.”
I laughed. “You think you can just walk back into my life, judge me, and ask to live here?” My father threatened to cut me out of the will. I shrugged. “What will I do without an inheritance from people who can’t even afford to live here?”
My mother whispered, “We just wanted the best for you.” I replied, “No, you wanted what was best for you. I built my own legacy.”
As they left, my father warned, “You’re making a mistake.” I met his gaze, steady. “No. I already made peace with it.”
I Served A Woman Who Scoffed at Me All through High School & Finally Took My Revenge after 20 Years
“Yes, and after years of therapy and hard work, not only did I overcome those challenges, but I also built a successful business.”
Karen, now completely deflated, couldn’t meet my gaze. Her date drank his whiskey when it arrived, and she held onto her phone, although she wasn’t using it.
A man drinking whiskey | Source: Pexels
“Can I take your order?” I asked again.
Karen shook her head. And then got up from her chair, ready to escort her own shame out the door.
A woman walking out | Source: Pexels
Later that night, as I sat in my bed, looking through old photos on my phone gallery—I realized that I had finally healed the teenager in me. The teenager who needed to be reminded that she could fight and find success and joy for herself.
It had taken about 20 years, but I finally felt free. I finally felt like I had unleashed all the trauma from high school.
A woman using her phone in bed | Source: Pexels
What would you have done?
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