I spent my entire childhood believing we were barely making ends meet. Every request — whether it was for ballet lessons, a birthday party, or even a school trip — was met with the same answer: “We can’t afford it.” So I stopped asking. I wore hand-me-downs, skipped extracurriculars, and worked through college thinking I was helping keep our family afloat. I carried pride in that sacrifice — until I discovered it was all built on a lie.

One day, I visited my dad’s office and noticed an open drawer. Inside were documents showing my parents owned multiple properties, hefty savings, and investments. They had been financially comfortable all along. I felt like the ground had been pulled from beneath me. I confronted them that night, only to be met with a cold explanation: “We didn’t want you to grow up entitled.” They claimed their deception was meant to build my character.

But it didn’t build me — it robbed me. I missed out on moments that shaped my friends: music recitals, family vacations, even feeling celebrated on my birthday. I didn’t want a luxury lifestyle — I just wanted to feel supported. My parents could’ve said no out of limits, but they said no out of principle, thinking it would make me better. Instead, it left me deeply hurt.

So I left. I needed space to process everything. Their love might have been real, but it was wrapped in control. I’m not sure when — or if — I’ll be able to forgive them. Some choices don’t just shape your childhood — they define the grief you carry into adulthood.