My Family Said They Didn’t Need My Help—so I Stopped Helping.

Mom was standing there looking like she hadn’t slept with her hair sticking up and yesterday’s makeup smeared under her eyes.

“I know she’s here,”

She said. She pushed past Sarah’s dad and found me in the kitchen.

“You’re coming home right now and we’re fixing this.”

Sarah’s dad stepped between us and told her she needed to leave.

Mom started screaming about how I was her daughter and she could make me come home.

Sarah’s mom calmly picked up her phone and said she was calling the police if mom didn’t leave immediately.

Mom looked at me one more time with pure hatred before storming out.

She slammed the door so hard a picture fell off the wall.

The Long Road of Accountability and Healing

Two days passed before I got a call from Mrs. Peterson at the school.

“Jasmine I heard about what happened and I wanted to check on you.”

Her voice was warm and concerned.

“I also want you to know that I’m proud of you for protecting yourself.”

She told me the school had counseling services available if I needed them and that they would support me through this.

She mentioned that several teachers had been worried about my siblings for weeks and were relieved someone finally intervened.

3 days after that I got an official notice about a family court hearing to determine temporary custody.

I spent the morning printing out copies of the signed agreement screenshots of mom’s texts over the past weeks and photos I’d been taking of the house getting worse.

I organized everything into a folder and put on my nicest clothes.

The courthouse was downtown in this old building that smelled like floor wax and old paper.

I got there early and sat outside the courtroom watching other families go in and out.

Mom showed up 15 minutes late wearing the same wrinkled shirt from 3 days ago.

Her hair was greasy and pulled back in a messy ponytail she had bags under her eyes and kept checking her phone like she was waiting for someone.

I realized her boyfriend must have bailed when things got serious because she was completely alone.

The bailiff called us in and the judge was this older woman with gray hair and glasses on a chain around her neck.

She reviewed the CPS report first reading parts out loud about the condition of the house and the children’s statements.

Then she asked mom about her parenting capabilities.

Mom started strong saying she’d been overwhelmed but was ready to do better.

The judge asked her specific questions about Tara’s medical needs.

Mom went blank and couldn’t even remember what medications Tara took for her allergies.

The judge asked about Cian’s learning accommodation plan that the school had sent home multiple times.

Mom didn’t even know he had one.

The judge looked at mom for a long moment before turning to the bailiff and asking him to bring Tara and Cen into her chambers.

They both stood up looking confused and followed her through the heavy wooden door behind the bench.

Mom kept wringing her hands and looking at me like I could somehow fix this.

20 minutes passed with just the sound of the courtroom clock ticking.

When the door finally opened Tara came out first with red eyes and wouldn’t even look in my direction.

Cian followed behind her looking pale and shaken like someone had just told him Santa wasn’t real.

They sat back down in their seats and the judge took another 5 minutes writing notes before she finally spoke.

She explained that based on the home inspection the children’s statements and mom’s clear lack of basic parenting knowledge she was ordering both kids to remain in foster care.

Mom would need to complete a 12-week parenting course and individual therapy sessions.

She’d also have to pass regular home inspections before the court would even consider returning custody.

Mom started sobbing so loud that the bailiff had to tell her to quiet down right in the middle of the judge explaining the visitation schedule.

Mom’s phone started ringing she fumbled to silence it but I could see her work’s number on the screen.

The phone rang again 30 seconds later the judge told her she could step out to take it if it was an emergency.

Mom answered in the hallway but we could all hear her through the door.

Her boss was telling her that her excessive absences over the past 2 weeks meant they had to let her go.

She tried explaining about the court case but they said she’d already used up all her sick days and vacation time.

Mom came back in looking like she’d been punched in the gut.

The judge wrapped up by setting the next hearing date for 3 months out and dismissed us.

I walked out first and was heading to the parking lot when I heard someone calling my name.

A woman with graying hair and mom’s same nose was walking toward me.

It was mom’s sister the aunt I hadn’t seen since I was maybe 10.

She said she’d heard about everything from a cousin and came to see if it was really as bad as people were saying.

She told me she had no idea things had gotten this bad and felt terrible for not checking in more.

Her house had a spare bedroom and she wanted me to come stay with her.

I thanked her but explained I needed to focus on my own life now after spending 9 years raising my siblings.

She nodded like she understood and handed me a piece of paper with her phone number saying to call if I changed my mind.

Mom walked past us without saying anything just shooting me a look full of hate.

A week went by and I was at my job at the bookstore when my co-worker mentioned seeing Kian at the grocery store with some older couple.

She said he looked miserable and was arguing with them about something.

Later that day I got a text from one of Tian’s friends saying they were in different foster homes on opposite sides of town.

Tian was apparently struggling with all the rules like set bedtimes and chore schedules.

The friend said Kian kept complaining about having to ask permission for everything when I used to just handle stuff without making it a big deal.

2 days after that I got an email from Tara’s orchestra teacher.

She wanted to let me know that Tara had to drop out of the program because her foster family lived 45 minutes away from the school.

The teacher wrote that she was really sad to lose such a talented student and wondered if there was any way to work something out.

I wrote back explaining I wasn’t Tara’s guardian anymore and she’d need to contact CPS about it.

The teacher responded saying she understood but it was such a shame because Tara had real potential.

That weekend I was doing homework when mom called me crying.

She’d just finished her first parenting class and couldn’t believe how much she didn’t know.

They’d spent two hours just on child development basics and she realized she didn’t even know what was normal for a 14 and 16-year-old.

She said the instructor asked everyone to share their morning routine with their kids and she was the only one who didn’t have one.

She begged me to help her understand some of the stuff they were teaching but I told her that defeated the whole purpose of the classes.

She hung up on me.

I started focusing on my own life for the first time since I was nine.

I got more hours at the bookstore and started putting money aside for college.

I found out I could still apply for spring admission at the state school and started working on my application essays.

One of my co-workers mentioned a support group for people who’d been parentified as kids and I decided to check it out.

The meeting was in a church basement on Tuesday nights there were eight other people there all different ages.

The facilitator had us go around and share a little about our situations.

One woman talked about raising her four younger brothers while her mom worked three jobs.

A guy my age described taking care of his disabled sister since he was seven because his parents couldn’t handle it.

Another girl had been managing her family’s bills and appointments since middle school because her parents didn’t speak English well.

When it was my turn I told them about the agreement and everything that happened after.

Nobody looked shocked or judged me for letting my siblings go into foster care.

The facilitator said what I’d experienced wasn’t normal and it wasn’t my fault.

She explained that parentification is a form of abuse even when it doesn’t feel like it.

Hearing other people’s stories made me realize how messed up my childhood actually was.

They all talked about the guilt they felt when they finally stopped taking care of everyone else.

One woman said it took her years of therapy to understand that she deserved to have her own life.

The group gave me books to read and websites to check out about recovering from parentification.

That same night my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number asking if I could let him into the house to grab his stuff since mom wasn’t answering her phone.