Am I the for calling the police immediately when my sister’s family broke into my new house with a stolen spare key? Hello, Reddit. I (27F) feel like I’ve spent the majority of my life in the shadow of my older sister, Anna (30F).

She’s always been the favorite, you know, the one smart, social, and capable of charming her way out of any situation.

Meanwhile, I’ve been called the irresponsible one, which in my family simply refers to the one who does all of the work but receives no credit. Growing up, Anna always had the best of everything.

Her birthdays were large garden festivities complete with bounce castles and pony rides. Mine was a pizza party in the dining room featuring a cake from the grocery store bakery.

Anna got the Barbie Dream House for Christmas, whereas I got a secondhand counterfeit with a missing elevator.

My parents would simply remark, “You don’t need all that fancy stuff,” or, “Be grateful for what you have.”

However, Anna’s gratitude was never required in the same manner. The big separation occurred when I entered college. I had worked hard in high school, juggling AP classes and extracurricular activities to maintain a high GPA.

I was admitted to a local university and believed I had a great plan.

I’d commute from home to economize on dorm fees. Anna had attended her dream school, and my parents had funded everything, so I figured they’d benefit me too.

Wrong. When I mentioned my plan to live at home, my mother looked at me as if I had just suggested we relocate to Mars.

“If you’re staying here, you’ll need to contribute,” she added casually.

“Anna got a full ride from us because she deserved it. You need to learn responsibility.”

I was eighteen and preparing to enter college, and they were already talking about me paying rent. “Contribute” turned out to be $400 per month for rent and electricity, plus my personal groceries.

That may not seem like much unless you’re a broke college student working part-time at a bookstore for $9 per hour.

I attempted to explain, reminding them that they had covered everything for Anna, that she had never had to worry about money at school. Mom simply shrugged.

“We gave Anna what she needed,” she stated. “You’re different.

You’re independent.

You’ll figure it out.”

So I did. I worked as many hours as I could at the bookshop, occasionally skipping meals to make ends meet. Every morning, I would pass the campus coffee shop, envious of the students who could purchase lattes and pastries while I brown-bagged PB&J sandwiches and drank free coffee from the bookstore breakroom.

I never bought a textbook at full price.

Everything was used or borrowed from the library. Every month, I handed over the $400 to my parents while Anna was away at her out-of-state school, living in a brand-new dorm that my parents had purchased for her.

She contacted me once to complain about her dorm’s AC not being chilly enough, and I almost lost it. I didn’t have air conditioning in my automobile since I couldn’t afford to fix it.

My parents continued to send Anna money each month.

I once overheard Mom on the phone saying, “We don’t want her to struggle. College is difficult enough.”

I stood in the kitchen clutching my $1 ramen noodles, wondering why none of that compassion was ever shown to me. To make matters worse, my parents were continually praising Anna for her accomplishments.

She earned a 3.2 GPA in her communications department, and they threw her a lavish graduation party complete with a catered buffet and a DJ.

When I graduated with a 3.9 and a computer science degree, we had a peaceful meal at home. Mom prepared lasagna and replied, “Well, we don’t want to make a fuss.”

Looking back, I believe what stung the most was not the absence of financial assistance but the apparent message that I didn’t count as much.

Anna was always portrayed as the star with potential, while I was just there. Even when I achieved it, it was overlooked.

“Kate’s smart.

She doesn’t need help,” they’d say. It seemed like being capable was a curse. After college, I moved out as quickly as possible.

I rented a little apartment near my first job and began living my life on my terms.

It wasn’t easy, but it felt great to be free of their expectations. I worked hard, lived frugally, and began saving.

Meanwhile, Anna married Josh (32M), whom my parents adore despite the fact that he’s constantly changing jobs. They currently have three children: Sophia (5F), Lucas (4M), and baby Noah (2M).

My folks are continually bailing them out.

When their automobile broke down last year, my parents handed them money to get a new one. When Anna complained about how difficult it was to keep up with three children, Mom and Dad offered to babysit on weekends. I wish it didn’t bother me anymore, but it still does.

No matter how much I do on my own, it seems like I’ll always be second to Anna.

That is why I no longer share many details about my life with my family. I know they wouldn’t mind, not really.

So I’ve been keeping this quiet, but I recently decided it was time to start looking for a home. I had been renting this tiny flat for years, paying far too much for what was essentially a glorified shoebox, and I’d been saving for what seemed like forever.

I ultimately came to the point where I thought, you know what, I deserve it now.

Here’s the thing. I didn’t inform my family, not because it’s a big secret, but because nothing with them can ever be solely about me. Everything becomes a group project.

If I mentioned anything, I knew they’d start making it about Anna and her children and how whatever I earned would help them in some way.

So I decided it was easier to keep my lips shut until all was said and done. Apparently, that was overly hopeful.

I’m not sure how this happened, but a woman I work with, let’s call her Lisa, managed to let it slip. Lisa is one of those people who is always interested in what others are doing, and I believe she casually mentioned to someone that I was looking for a house.

That person simply happened to be Anna’s neighbor.

From there, the news spread like wildfire. The delights of small-town Texas. A few days later, my mother contacted me.

“Kate,” she said, her tone excessively joyful.

“Why didn’t you tell us you’re looking for a house?”

I should have known better, but I chose to play dumb. “Oh, I’m just browsing around right now.

Nothing serious.”

“Well, Anna and I have been talking, and we have some great ideas for you.”

I could sense dread creeping in. “You’re going to need something big enough for everyone, you know.

At least four bedrooms for the kids.”

“Of course.

What kids?” I questioned. “I don’t have kids.”

She kept going as if this were the most regular thing in the world. “You’ll need space for Anna’s family when they visit, and for us too.

Oh, and it’d be great if it was close to Anna’s place.”

I’m not sure why I was startled.

She had already turned my potential house into the solution to their issues. I said something noncommittal and hung up the phone as quickly as I could, thinking it was a one-time occurrence.

But, oh dear, it wasn’t. My mom and Anna began flooding me with house listings after that.

I’m not exaggerating when I say it turned into a part-time job for them.

Every day, I’d receive at least a dozen links to ludicrous houses. Large homes with four or five bedrooms, pools, three-car garages, and the works. It was as if they assumed I was looking for a reality TV mansion.

One day Mom texted, “Did you see that one on Maple Street?

It’s a huge one. Just perfect.”

Another time, Anna emailed me a link to a six-bedroom property with a remark that read, “This would be so suitable for us.

We finally have space to spread out.”

I stared at the message for a good minute, wondering how my property purchase had become a collaborative endeavor. What is the worst part?

They were not even pretending it was about me.

“ This one has a finished basement. Josh could turn it into his man cave.”

“ The kids would love the pool in this one.”

“ Look, Kate, there’s even a guest room for Mom and Dad when they visit.”

It was exhausting. At first, I attempted to gently lead them away, assuring them that I was only shopping for something modest for myself, but that simply made matters worse.

That’s when I decided to cease responding.

I silenced the group chat and disregarded their messages. I assumed they would finally get the point and move on.

Meanwhile, I continued searching for houses on my own. I spent my evenings reading through Zillow and my weekends looking at open houses.

I didn’t tell anyone where I was going, and I avoided anything slightly related to Anna’s area.

I didn’t want to run into anyone who might tell my mother. After weeks of looking, I finally found it: a little two-bedroom cottage just outside the city. It had everything I desired.

A nice little porch.

A sunny kitchen. And a lawn large enough for a garden.

It wasn’t elegant, but it felt familiar. The moment I stepped through the door, I knew it was mine.

I submitted an offer, and after a few nerve-wracking days, it was approved.

I can’t even explain how fantastic it felt. For the first time in my life, I was doing something solely for myself, with no influence from anyone. Of course, I did not inform my family.

I decided to let them keep delivering their helpful suggestions while I silently moved forward.

But then my mother called me out of nowhere. “We’re having dinner next weekend.

You’re coming, right?”

I nearly said no, but then I had a thought. You know what, let’s get this over with.

So I’m going to this dinner, and I already know what it will be like.

They’ll probably have a full PowerPoint presentation prepared. Here comes the fun part. I’m about to reveal that I’ve already purchased a home.

I won’t sugarcoat it either.

I can already hear theatrical gasps and complaints. Thank you for sticking around.

I’ll send you an update after dinner. Update one.

First and foremost, I’d like to thank everyone who left comments and advice on my previous article.

I promised to update you after dinner, so here we go. Buckle up, because there was a lot. So I arrived at my folks’ place last Saturday at precisely 6:00 p.m., mentally prepared for whatever rubbish they were about to throw at me.

The moment I went in, there was already commotion.

The kids were shouting. Josh was sitting on the couch watching TV.

And my mother was busy in the kitchen. She looked over and said, “Oh good.

You’re on time for once.”

We are off to a good start, right?

We sat down for supper, and the conversation began with the normal small talk. Dad complained about gas prices, Josh about something at work, and Anna about how difficult it was to manage three children. “Noah keeps waking up in the middle of the night,” she explained, scooping mashed potatoes onto her plate.

“We’re just so cramped.

I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

I knew where this was going, but I played along, nodding sympathetically while concentrating on my lasagna. Then my mother cleared her throat in the manner she did before making an announcement.

“Kate,” she replied with a huge smile, “we’ve been talking, and we think we found the perfect house for you.”

I almost choked on my water. Of course they arrive with a plan.

“Oh?” I asked, keeping my tone as neutral as possible.

“Yes,” Anna chimed in. “It’s a beautiful place, and it’s only a few blocks from us. It has five bedrooms, a huge yard for the kids, and even a guest suite.”

Mom interrupted before I could respond.

“It’s perfect for everyone.

There’s enough space for the kids to finally have their own rooms, and Josh could even set up an office. Plus, it’s in such a great neighborhood, close to good schools.”

I just stared at them, bewildered.

They weren’t even pretending it was about me anymore. So Anna replied, smiling as if everything was settled, “We can go see it tomorrow if you want.”

That’s when I decided I’d had it.

“Actually,” I responded, setting down my fork, “I’ve already bought a house.”

The room went completely silent.

Even the children stopped making noise. “What?” Mom asked, her voice harsh. “I bought a house,” I reiterated.

“It’s a small two-bedroom cottage just outside the city.

It’s perfect for me.”

For a little moment, I considered whether they would be pleased for me. Mom’s face turned red, and Anna’s mouth virtually dropped to the floor.

“A cottage?” Anna finally asked, her tone full of skepticism. “How are we supposed to fit in a cottage?”

“You’re not,” I informed you, “because it’s my house.

I bought it for me.”

Mom stepped in before Anna could react.

“Kate, how could you make such a big decision without consulting us? We’ve been working so hard to find the perfect place for you.”

“No,” I replied, trying to maintain my cool. “You’ve been working hard to find the perfect place for Anna and her family.

I didn’t need your help.

I knew what I wanted, and I bought it.”

Anna’s voice became quite high-pitched as if she were about to cry. “But we need this, Kate.

Do you know how hard it is for us in that tiny apartment? The kids have to share a room, and Noah’s crib is in our bedroom.

It’s not fair to them.”

I took a big breath, hoping not to lose it.

“That’s not my problem, Anna. I’ve worked hard to get to this point, and I’m not giving up my dream house to fix your situation.”

That’s when Dad decided to join in. He smashed his hand upon the table.

“You’re being selfish, Kate.

Family is supposed to help each other. What’s wrong with you?”

I stood up, my heart racing.

“I’m not selfish. I’m finally standing up for myself, and if that makes me the bad guy in your eyes, so be it.”

The place erupted into turmoil.

Anna was crying.

Mom was ranting about how she had raised me better. Dad was complaining about how dissatisfied he was. Josh just sat there stuffing food into his mouth as if nothing was occurring.

I grabbed my handbag and went to the door.

Mom pursued me, crying, “You can’t just walk away from your family like this.”

I turned back and screamed, “Watch me.”

I then got into my car and drove home, shivering with rage and relief. Things have gotten out of hand in unexpected ways.

My mother and Anna have both gone on full social media attack mode. Anna shared images of her children packed close on their bunk bed with remarks like, “All they want is a little space to grow, but I guess some people think family isn’t worth helping anymore.”

People who didn’t know the complete situation left remarks such as, “How could anyone be so heartless?”

To make matters worse, someone, probably Lisa, saw these posts, and now half of my office is talking about how I abandoned my family.

I’m attempting to maintain a positive attitude and concentrate on my work, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult.

I’m bracing myself for whatever comes next, but I’m confident I made the correct decision. This house is mine, and I will not back down. I’ll provide an update if something significant occurs.

Thank you so much for all of your help.

You have no idea how much it has meant. Update two.

I’ve been going over your comments and wow, you guys didn’t hold back. Many of you express surprise at how entitled my family sounds, and believe me, I share your sentiments.

Others shared their experiences with similar situations, and it’s reassuring to know I’m not alone in this.

So things have taken an unexpected turn. My mother unexpectedly visited my apartment yesterday. She was standing there with an apple pie.

Not my favorite.

I prefer cherry. And the fakest smile I’d ever seen.

“Hi, Kate. I thought I’d stop by and see how you’re doing,” she said, as if she hadn’t been part of the social media mob attacking me in weeks.

Against my better judgment, I allowed her in.

She placed the pie on the counter and gazed around my home as if she were taking inventory. “I wanted to apologize,” she began, her voice full of fake sweetness. “Things got a little heated, and I realize now that we were wrong to push you like that.

You’ve worked hard for this house, and I should have respected your decisions.”

Something about her tone did not sit well with me.

Then she launched into a lengthy speech about how pleased she was of me and how the stress of Anna’s condition had caused everyone to behave out, but that’s no excuse. She added, giving me a sad, almost imploring expression, “I was thinking maybe we could have a fresh start.

I’d love to come over again sometime. Maybe bring Anna and the kids.

It’d be nice for everyone to see your new place.”

So there it was, the actual motive behind her visit.

After she went, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Later that night, I recognized what was bothering me. She’d spent an unusual amount of time inspecting my locks and inquiring about my relocation timeline.

My suspicions were verified when I returned home from work today and discovered my spare key missing, the one I had mistakenly left on the kitchen counter during my mother’s stay.

My phone vibrated just as I was processing this. My next-door neighbor sent me a text.

“Hey, I noticed some folks trying to peep into your windows last night. It looked like a couple with children.

Is everything okay?”

I quickly phoned a locksmith to replace all of the locks.

I’ll also install security cameras first thing tomorrow morning. I can’t believe they would go this low, but I’m also not surprised. I’ve stopped answering phone calls and texts from anyone in my family.

Mom’s apology was obviously simply a reconnaissance operation, and I’m done giving them the benefit of the doubt.

The disturbing issue is that I don’t think they’ll stop. Dad left a voicemail stating, “This isn’t over, Kate.

Family has to stick together whether you like it or not.”

At this point, it seems like a threat rather than a concern. I’m currently documenting everything, every text, voicemail, and suspicious incident.

My gut tells me I’ll need this record shortly.

I will keep you updated if anything else happens. Reddit, thank you for all of your support. It’s incredibly helpful to have folks confirm that I’m not insane for demanding fundamental boundaries.

Update three.

Hello, Reddit. I never imagined I’d be posting this update, but here we are.

What happened today has left me absolutely disturbed, and I am still trying to digest everything. I went out this morning to conduct some basic tasks such as food shopping and picking up a box from the post office.

When I arrived home at noon, I saw something peculiar.

Anna’s SUV was parked directly in front of my house. My heart sunk immediately. I approached the door, fumbling with my keys, and heard voices within.

Anna, Josh, and the kids were at my place.

The atmosphere inside was complete mayhem. Sophia and Lucas were sprawled on my couch, surrounded by munchies and toys.

Noah was toddling about my living room, munching on a throw cushion. Josh was in the kitchen looting my refrigerator, and Anna was in the sun room rearranging my furniture as if she were on HGTV.

“What the hell’s going on?” I managed to reply, my voice shaking from fury and disbelief.

Anna looked up, unaffected. “Oh hey, Kate. We figured it’d be easier to just move in while you were out.”

I glanced at her, trying to understand what she had just said.

“Move in?”

“Mom gave us the key,” she explained, nodding to the kitchen counter.

“We truly needed the space, and your home is ideal for us. It could have been bigger if you’d listened to us, but we’ll make it happen.

Josh can now have an office instead of bickering.”

Instead of arguing, I took out my phone and dialed 911. “Seriously?” Anna replied, her voice full of incredulity.

“Are you calling the cops on your own family?”

“Watch me.”

When the cops arrived, Anna and Josh attempted to argue that because we were family, this was not a true break-in.

The officers wouldn’t have it. They informed them that they were trespassing and needed to leave immediately. Anna began crying, saying she didn’t realize it was such a huge deal, and Josh muttered something about my being selfish as they packed away their belongings, including the goodies they had plundered from my cupboard.

After they went, one of the officers approached me and asked if I wanted to file charges.

I considered it for a time before deciding against it, as long as they stayed away from my land. The officer nodded, saying they’d file a report if anything more happened.

I’ve already phoned a locksmith to change the locks again, and I’ll have a security system put in tomorrow. I’ve also hired a lawyer to create an official cease and desist letter to deliver to my parents, Anna, and Josh.

The letter describes everything they’ve done and expresses that if they continue to harass me, I will not hesitate to take legal action.

I still can’t believe my own sister felt this was appropriate, and my mother gave them the key. I don’t even have words for it. I will keep you updated if anything else happens, but perhaps this is the final straw.

I am done giving them opportunities.

Blood is not always thicker than water, particularly when it is dangerous. Update four.

I’d like to begin by thanking everyone who has followed this wild trip. After all of your comments and support, I believe I owe you a final report on the issue.

Yes, I mean final, because I have formally severed all relations with my family.

First came the guilt-inducing phone calls. Every single relative, including those I hadn’t spoken to in years, began phoning me. My aunt, who hardly recognized my existence growing up, left a voicemail that read, “How can you do this to your sister?

Family has to stick together.”

Then my parents launched a smear campaign in our town.

Mom shared photos of my house on Facebook. I’m not sure how she obtained them, with sentiments like, “It’s so sad when someone forgets where they came from.

Family sacrifices so much for you and this is how they repay you.”

People who didn’t know the complete scenario left comments accusing me of being ungrateful and selfish. Last week, Anna took it to a new level.

She arrived at my business at lunch hour with all three children.

I was in a meeting when our receptionist called to report that my sister was crying in the lobby and raising a disturbance. By the time I arrived, half of my co-workers had gathered to witness Anna theatrically tell how I was leaving her children homeless. I drew her aside and ordered her to leave.

She responded by letting the kids run around the office while yelling about how I had plenty of space but was too selfish to share.

Security had to take them out, and I had to have an embarrassing chat with my manager about keeping my personal concerns out of the office. The final straw arrived yesterday.

My parents scheduled an intervention at their home. They informed my grandmother that I was suffering a mental breakdown and required family support.

When I declined to attend, they attempted to have a local preacher visit my house to educate me on my family commitments.

After consulting with my attorney, I took serious legal action. I applied for a restraining order against Anna and Josh, citing all of their harassment and the break-in. My lawyer also issued cease and desist letters to my parents regarding their social media posts and harassment.

I’ve established a comprehensive security system that includes cameras and motion sensors, as well as changed my phone number and email address, which I exclusively share with trusted friends.

In my job, all of my social media accounts are now set to rigorous privacy settings, banning not only my family but also their friends and anyone who may feed them information. The most weird aspect of all of this is that they still appear to believe they are correct.

My mother sent me one final email before I banned her, stating I was hurting her heart and that she had raised me better than this. She still doesn’t get that this isn’t about being mean or selfish.

It is about setting basic boundaries and respecting oneself.

But you know what? For the first time in my life, I actually feel free. My house is just as I want it.

I’ve started planting a garden in my backyard, which I’d always wanted to do but never had the space for.

I’m making friends with my neighbors, those who don’t report back to my family. I even adopted a cat who is now snoozing in my sunny window.

She is also not obligated to share her space with anyone she does not want to. Last weekend, I had a little housewarming celebration with some of my co-workers.

We sipped wine and cheese on my lovely small porch, and no one said I needed more room or questioned my life choices.

It was simply normal, joyful, and serene. I know some people may read this and think I’m callous for cutting off my family. But after twenty-seven years of being treated as a backup plan, an ATM, and a solution to everyone else’s issues, I’m finally putting myself first.

Recognizing that family is more than simply blood, it’s about respect, limits, and mutual support, can be the healthiest thing you can do.

What about the house that sparked all of this drama? It’s become my haven.

Every morning, I wake up in my house decorated exactly how I want it, with no one else’s expectations to meet but my own, and I know I made the correct decision. Thank you to everyone on Reddit who has supported me on this trip.

Your comments, guidance, and shared experiences helped me keep going when I was doubting myself.

To those who shared similar stories, you helped me realize I wasn’t alone in demanding fundamental boundaries. And to those who are now suffering with similar familial problems, remain strong. You deserve to live your life on your own terms.

I probably won’t be updating my tale anymore, partially because I’ve cut off all communication with my family and partly because I’m ready to go on with my life.

But I’ll still be on Reddit, possibly assisting others who are in similar positions. Thank you all again.

Your encouragement meant more than you’ll ever realize. Thank you for watching.

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