This story is shared by a Malaysian woman who found herself carrying the weight of her entire family’s financial burdens—until she decided to stop.
I am the youngest daughter in my family. A Senior Project Manager earning RM15,000 a month at an MNC. The one who made something of herself. The one who has enough—or so they assume. But no one stops to ask: What about me?
I turned 35 this year. My last major promotion was two years ago. My birthday present this year? Getting dumped by my boyfriend of five years because I never had time for intimacy or to do anything with him. And suddenly, I was forced to ask myself—What have I achieved for myself?
The Weight of Obligation
I never thought I’d be the family breadwinner. There was no cultural expectation that I, the anak bongsu, should take on this responsibility.
But then there’s my older brother—useless, jobless, and parked in front of his computer since the pandemic. My parents still earn their own incomes but somehow never seem to have enough.
For years, I paid for the rent. The groceries. The internet. The utilities. The daily expenses. I carried the weight of this family on my back.
I didn’t step into this role willingly. I did it because I had no choice.
I got through university on a scholarship. I worked part-time while studying. I secured a job and climbed the corporate ladder, hitting milestone after milestone. Meanwhile, my brother did nothing. My parents never expected anything from him and never pressured him to contribute. When he lost his job in 2021, they let him sink into complacency.
And me? I became the safety net.
I told myself, it’s temporary. It wasn’t.
The Breaking Point
Then I turned 35, and my boyfriend dumped me. He told me he left because I never prioritized my personal life or our relationship, and he was tired of coming third. No—fourth, he corrected, after my career, my family, and whatever else was more important than him.
That was a slap in the face.
I realized something devastating: I had spent years living for other people. I sacrificed my happiness, my chance to travel, and my chance to build a life of my own. Marriage, family, even something as simple as taking a break—was always on hold for someone else. Every month, I had bills to pay that weren’t even mine.
I wanted to scream. How is this fair? I felt exhausted all the time. The stress was affecting my health—I barely slept, my stomach was a mess, and I was constantly battling headaches and migraines. And worst of all, when I looked in the mirror, I didn’t even recognize myself anymore.
The Conversation That Changed Everything
It happened one evening after dinner. The plates were still on the dining table, remnants of a home-cooked meal I had paid for. My father was scrolling on his phone. My mother was wiping down the table. My brother had already retreated to his room, the faint sounds of gunfire and shouting from some online game spilling into the hallway.
I had been holding this in for years. And now, I couldn’t anymore.
I took a deep breath and said, “I need to talk to you both.” My parents glanced up, mildly curious. My heart pounded. “I need to know,” I started, voice firm, “what do you do with your salaries?”
Silence. Then a scoff. “What kind of question is that?” my father said dismissively.
“We use it for the house lah… for house things,” my mother added vaguely.
“No, you don’t,” I snapped. “I pay for everything. So where does your money go?”
They avoided my gaze. My father went back to scrolling. My mother busied herself with a tissue. I pressed on. “Why does everything fall on me? Why is he—” I jabbed a finger toward my brother’s door “—still jobless, gaming all day, and contributing nothing?”
“He’s trying,” my mother muttered uncomfortably.
I let out a bitter laugh. “Is he? Has he even sent out a single resume this week?”
They didn’t answer.
I had had enough. I had allowed the situation to degrade until they all relied on me.
“I got a scholarship. I worked through university. I built this career on my own. And now? I’m done.”
I pulled out a spreadsheet of household expenses and pushed it toward them. For the first time, they sat in stunned silence, realizing I wasn’t just having some childish temper tantrum.
“You have three months,” I concluded. “I will pay half the internet and utility bills and an additional RM600 in rental for my room and food. Figure out your own finances, the household budget, and that useless son of yours, because I am done.”
The Aftermath
I drew the line at three months. Then, they would be cut off from the bank of their daughter. I gave them access to the household budget spreadsheet on Google Drive and removed myself as owner. No longer my problem or my responsibility.
My mother cried. My father was angry. They told me I was abandoning them, that I was ungrateful, that I owed them.
They cycled through the usual drama tactics. First, dismissing me like I was just throwing a tantrum. Then guilt—bringing up all the things they had done for me as a child, as if feeding and clothing me was some extraordinary sacrifice.
Then negotiation—offering vague promises to “talk to my brother” and “be more careful” with money.
I didn’t budge.
When they pushed me, I reminded them that my boyfriend dumped me over this, and they were going to have to wait a long time for grandchildren now. That was cruel, but the look on their faces was satisfying and worth it.
And my brother? Indifferent. Unbothered. He barely looked up from his screen when I delivered the news. He probably assumed I’d break before my parents did. Or that they’d take care of him when I stopped.
It doesn’t matter. He is no longer my concern or my problem.
The Reality of Boundaries
For the first time in years, I felt free.
I submitted my leave application and booked my first solo week-long trip to Singapore. I had dreamed of doing this for years but had never been able to because I shouldered their responsibilities.
And most importantly? I started prioritizing myself.
I stopped killing myself over promotions at work because I no longer needed to chase them. I didn’t want a bigger paycheck. I was able to go out at night with friends. I rediscovered a long-lost love of yoga and reading. I had time to enjoy myself.
“Am I a Bad Daughter?”
Am I selfish? Am I abandoning them? Or am I finally doing what I should have done years ago?
No, standing up for myself and setting clear boundaries isn’t selfish. It’s necessary.
If your family doesn’t appreciate your sacrifices, why are you still sacrificing for them?
I want to fall in love again without the weight of responsibility crushing me. I want to spend money on things that bring me joy, not just keep others afloat.
And I will.
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