Dear Diary,
Listen, my fatherinlaw warned me sternly one evening, we took you into the family, we treat you like a proper soninlaw, and yet you refuse even the smallest favour? Not right, young man! You must respect your wifes parents. Who knows when you might need our help?
—
Poppy was born when her mother was barely nineteen. The early motherhood threw a wrench into the young couples plans, so for the first few years the child was looked after by her grandmother. While the parents studied, Poppys granny became her most reliable pillar.
The wedding took place after the babys birth, but a stable family routine only settled when Poppy turned six. That was when the parents brought her to live with them, moved to a new town Manchester and enrolled her in the local primary school.
From the start, the new household was far from harmonious. Her father, a respectable civil servant, showed no interest in either his wife or his daughter. He was constantly away, indulging in affairs and pub nights. Her mother, meanwhile, disappeared into latenight shifts. Left to herself, Poppy spent most days roaming the streets. Irregular, cold meals left a lasting mark she developed chronic gastritis. When the condition flared, her mother began shuttling her between hospitals, using the visits as a lever of control.
There was no notion of personal boundaries or the right to an opinion in that house. Any desire Poppy voiced was nipped in the bud. If she tried to defend herself, it always exploded into a quarrel and a torrent of accusations. Mother would openly label her an ungrateful brat.
Im doing my best for you, and you cant even offer a simple thank you! Only God knows how much suffering youve caused me, she would snap, get out of my sight!
Things escalated over a seemingly trivial clash when teenage Poppy refused to pose for a family photo with guests. Mother erupted:
Shameless! How dare you disgrace me in front of people? Change your clothes this instant! Right now!
Mum, I dont want to be photographed, Poppy protested, Im exhausted, I need to sleep!
Mother lunged at her with fists; father intervened, then coldly told Poppy they dreamed of another child, but for some reason could not have one.
If I could, Id throw you out of this house this very second! he snarled its a pity we cant have any other children! If a chance ever arose, Id send you straight to a care home!
—
Poppy was never allowed to say no. Mother increasingly called her worthless, a useless little thing. Only when Poppy turned sixteen and the family adopted another girl did the mothers tone soften a little, adding a fresh, heavy strain to Poppys life.
Youre still our golden child, mother sighed, watching the adopted girl fling dishes in a tantrum because she couldnt afford a new computer like everyone else. You never gave us any trouble! Weve spoken with your father, agreed to the adoption Now therell be no more problems.
School was a battlefield; Poppy was beaten and locked in cupboards by a hostile clique. She never complained she saw no point in whining when nobody would stand up for her.
She chose a law degree, exactly where her parents pushed her, hoping it would earn their approval. It didnt. Instead, she was blamed for not finding her place in life.
Why study law? father sneered youll end up on the factory floor, nothing brighter for you. Youre talentless! At least get a job somewhere
Poppy endured in silence, dreaming of escaping the invisible chains her parents kept tightening around her. She was exhausted.
—
When Poppy married, her parents staged a prewedding drama, accusing her of selfishness, of derailing their plans and of taking money from them. In truth she had borrowed a modest sum, wanting to contribute to the wedding herself. Mother never missed a chance to heap more obligations on her.
Do you realise how much weve invested in you? mother demanded when Poppy tried to decline another favour.
I understand, Mum, but James and I are trying to stand on our own feet, we have our own responsibilities, Poppy replied cautiously, we simply dont have time for everything.
What responsibilities? Your responsibilities are ours too! Your husband should understand that, father interjected, is it too much to ask for a few errands, a quick grocery run, looking after the younger sibling while were at the reception?
Dad, James works late, he has an important meeting tomorrow, Poppy tried to explain.
A meeting? More important than family? Have you forgotten how hard we worked raising you? Your illnesses, your impossible temperament! mothers voice rose.
Mum, those illnesses appeared while you were busy with work and other matters, and I dont recall you ever really raising me, Poppy said, bitterness seeping in.
Ingrateful! You dont know what it means to be a parent! If it werent for us, youd still be on the streets! mother shouted, living off grannys meagre allowance!
Im grateful, but Im not bound to sacrifice my whole life for you! All we ask is a sliver of personal space, Poppy sighed.
Personal space? You just got married and youre already thinking of yourself! We gave you a home, we raised you! father insisted, and now you dare refuse?
Mum, you have no claim over our flat, Poppy retorted, hinting that she and James had bought a house with a mortgage they were paying together.
If youre so independent, why cant you find a decent job? Why are you skulking around shady contracts? And why havent you repaid us for your education? father jabbed, delivering a lowblow, we funded your studies. The least you can show is gratitude!
Poppy finally turned to him:
Dad, could you at least stop supporting her in this madness?
Poppy, dont start, father said calmly but firmly, Mum is right. We only ask a little. Your husband must know his place. Nothing will happen to him if he drives us around. After all, we are your family.
James isnt a taxi driver! Poppys voice cracked with frustration.
Have you lost your mind? How dare you raise your voice at your father? mother stepped forward.
James, who had been silent until then, could no longer bear it:
Thats enough! Stop shouting at her! I married your daughter, Im responsible for her. I never promised to be your servant!
Who do you think you are, telling us what to do? father snapped, you took my daughter, we accepted you into the family, and out of gratitude you should help us!
I love Poppy and I want her happy. Since the wedding youve given us no peace, James said firmly, either we live our own lives or shell have no contact with you at all!
Poppy looked at James, then at her parents.
Poppy, you cant! Youll betray us?! mother hissed, youre our daughter! Weve given you so much
I remember, Mum, Poppy whispered, fists clenched, I remember everything you did to humiliate me, to beat me. I remember you saying you wanted another child. I recall
Ingrateful! mothers voice rang like a bell.
No, Mum. Im an adult with a family now. James is right: well live our own lives. You can stop calling us until you learn to respect our decisions.
The first few days of this socalled freedom were tense. My parents called, threatened, tried to blackmail us with silence, but James and I held our ground. I also resolved to repay the debt they claimed for my education. We scrimped, saved every penny, and after a year finally handed over the £500000 they had exaggeratedly invoiced double what theyd actually spent.
With the money paid, I cut off contact. Their attempts at reconciliation fell flat; they remained bitter over the ungrateful daughter they thought they had raised.
Looking back, I see how the endless demands, the emotional abuse, and the relentless guilttrip have shaped me. James has been my rock, my anchor, and together we reclaimed the life that was never meant to be theirs.
Lesson learned: love and duty are not the same thing. You can care for those who raised you without surrendering your own happiness or your right to a life of your own making.
