Do you know what I hate?

Being forced to act a certain way—especially when people treat me like garbage and expect me to just take it.

Let me give you an example.

When I was 8 years old, my mom met a woman we’ll call “SA.” That was hands down the worst mistake she ever made.

SA had three daughters, and she raised them to be “perfect” in every way—especially when it came to being popular and keeping up appearances. At first, I was friends with her middle child, who I’ll call “VR.” But that didn’t last. VR quickly turned into one of those mean, entitled popular girls—because that’s exactly what she was being groomed to be.

After we met that family, everything in my life got worse. And when I started reacting to the dysfunction as any kid would, I was suddenly labeled with “only child syndrome.” That label hurt, especially when no one seemed to care what VR was actually doing.

Let me break it down.

VR constantly complained about how I got to do things she didn’t—things my mom worked hard to give me. This was before my mom got screwed over by the LAPD, when her overtime and furlough days still paid out in cash. My mom was generous to a fault. She even helped plan and finance the oldest daughter’s quinceañera. That family should’ve paid her for how much she did.

Then came the figure skating situation. I was inspired by the movie Ice Princess and decided to try it out. I was so excited, I told VR. Of course, she suddenly wanted to do it too. I knew her family couldn’t afford it—yet she had the nerve to say, “What, my family’s too broke to do it?” She threw such a fit to her mom that my mom ended up paying for her lessons, her in-house competition, and even her skating outfit. All for a hobby she didn’t even appreciate.

Eventually, my mom put her foot down and refused to pay for VR’s ballet lessons. She explained that I was her daughter—not them. And what did they do? They got jealous. When I got my first pair of real figure skates, VR and her sisters couldn’t even pretend to be happy for me.

Then there was the Disneyland trip. My mom paid for everything—for SA and her entire family. What was supposed to be a special trip for me turned into a freeloading vacation for people who constantly used my mother.

One day, I was helping VR clean her room and saw a list. I didn’t get a good look, but she snatched it away and got super defensive. I later realized it was a list of her “friends,” with notes about what she could get from each of us—literally what she could benefit from, like we were resources. That included me.

Another time, I was playing my Nintendo DS—something my mom bought for me. VR demanded to play it, and I said I would let her after I was done. She threw a tantrum and wouldn’t stop until I gave in. Then she had the nerve to act smug about it. Her mom overheard, yelled at both of us, and completely ignored the fact that VR started the whole thing. I wasn’t required to share my property.

Because of that toxic family, I was constantly accused of being selfish or having “only child syndrome.” Meanwhile, they were the ones exploiting my mom and walking all over me.

When I got ready for my first-ever schooling horse show, I told my mom I didn’t want to be dragged to any more of VR and her sisters’ soccer or softball games. They never once came to support me. My mom must’ve guilt-tripped them into showing up—because they finally did—and guess what? VR couldn’t hide her jealousy. She and her sisters mocked my horseback riding, trying to disguise it as “teasing,” but it was just mean-spirited bullying.

Then, when I was thirteen, I got nominated for the Miss Jr. Teen Pasadena pageant. I was proud—even if I didn’t win, because yeah, I was a bit of a tomboy back then. But when SA found out, she said, “It’s not that you’re not pretty, it’s just you’re not fit for a beauty pageant.” That wasn’t constructive. That was jealousy—because none of her daughters were ever nominated for anything like that.

That’s why I can’t even joke about myself now when I mess up or do something dumb. I was taught to feel small, not supported. I was treated like I was never good enough—while they took everything they could from my mom and me.

People can be unbelievably cruel.

Sorry, I just had to vent.

– Love, Sammy