When my father stood up at my graduation party and bragged for the millionth time about paying for my college education, I couldn’t stay quiet. It was time to set the record straight, and what I revealed left everyone in the room speechless. A few years ago, I graduated from college. It was a milestone I worked my butt off to reach, and my dad, Hugo, made sure that journey was even harder than it had to be. But what’s even worse, he lied to make himself look great and took credit for all my sacrifices… until I decided to reveal the truth.
Let’s go back to the beginning. My dad was the kind of parent who treated my report cards like they were stock market updates. If I got an A-, he’d hit me with, “What happened to the other two percent?” He’d tell anyone who’d listen that I was a “little genius” thanks to his guidance, but at home, he tore apart everything I did and didn’t try to help me in the slightest.
Back then, I was extremely jealous of my cousin Fred, who lived a couple of streets over. He was living the life. His parents, Aunt Florence and Uncle Joe, actually supported his passions. Fred liked to call himself “laid-back,” but he always got good grades. He even got accepted into one of the hardest engineering programs in the country. Meanwhile, I was only allowed to study during my pre-teen and teenage years and ended up with a severe fear of failure. For example, having to explain to my dad why I didn’t get accepted into an Ivy League school almost ended me. I was so panicked.
He screamed and ranted like never before that day. I think that’s when the switch flipped for me. This wasn’t normal. Fred got to do what he wanted and thrived. So, I decided then and there that I’d find a way out. It wouldn’t be easy, but I’d rather struggle than let my father control me forever. Senior year came, and I had to pick between the colleges that had accepted me. This decision depended in large part on whether my dad was helping me financially.
One night, I went to his study, the most intimidating room in the house, and asked if he was going to help me with tuition. I remember that he leaned back in his chair and smirked. “Of course, Jenna, but there are conditions.” He enumerated them smugly like he knew I couldn’t say no. “I’ll be choosing your major. No parties. I want monthly updates on your grades and access to your school’s online portal. Oh, and no dating until after graduation.”
I stared at him, dumbfounded. “Dad, that’s not support. That’s control.” “Well, if you want my money, you follow my rules,” he said, shrugging like it was the most reasonable thing in the world. I walked out of that room feeling crushed but also determined. I wasn’t going to give him that power. So, I got creative. I chose the most sensible program, got a partial scholarship, and organized everything else.
When I told my father I didn’t need his help, he just laughed. “We’ll see how long that lasts.” Spoiler alert: It lasted. But I wasn’t done with him. Let’s move forward around two years. At the time, I was juggling classes, late shifts at a diner, where I worked part-time, and studying in laundromats. It was quieter than my dorm.