Dear Younger Sis In Law

Today I realized something. 

For years, I somehow became the emergency fund of the family.

When someone had a problem, Dika will find a way.

When someone needed money, Dika will figure it out.

When life became difficult, Dika will manage somehow.

And yes, I did. Not because I am rich.

Not because I have a secret money tree behind my house.

Not because money comes out of my ass whenever someone calls me with a problem.

I just kept scraping whatever I had. Again. And again. And again.

Until there was almost nothing left. But maybe that was not obvious enough.

Because today I was listening to someone talking about debts, children, household expenses, and money.

Meanwhile, my own life is currently standing in the middle of a fucking divorce.

I am unemployed. I am trying to rebuild my finances.

I am trying to figure out how to stand on my own feet again.

I am trying to recover from years of emotional exhaustion.

And somehow, I am still expected to listen to everybody else's financial emergency.

Amazing. My life is already  an administrative horror movie, and apparently the universe decided to add another subplot. 😂

Dear younger sis-in-law, I don't blame you for having problems.

Everyone has problems. 

Children need money. Marriage needs money. Life needs money. 

Being an adult is basically an expensive subscription that nobody remembers signing up for.

I understand that. 

What I don't understand is how people can forget that the person they are talking to might also be drowning.

Just because I don't announce every wave doesn't mean I am standing on dry land.

I have been quiet about my own problems for a long time. Maybe too quiet.

Since 2018, after my father left, I have been scraping myself together to support Ibu Suri.

I did it without complaining. I borrowed.I went without.

I looked at bills and decided which problem could wait another week.

I smiled when I wanted to scream. 

I said, “I'll figure it out.”

So many times that everyone started believing it was some kind of superpower.

It is not. It is just exhaustion with good public relations.

And today I suddenly thought, when did my ability to survive become everybody else's assumption that I will always have something left to give?

Because sometimes there is nothing left. Sometimes the cupboard is empty.

Sometimes the bank account looks like it has personally declared war on me.

Sometimes the person everyone thinks is strong is quietly wondering how the hell she is going to survive the next month.

And somehow, she is still expected to understand.

Still expected to reassure everyone. 

Still expected to say,“It's okay.”

No. Maybe it is not okay. 

Maybe I am tired. Maybe I don't have another hidden reserve.

Maybe my emergency fund is currently just my nervous system.

And that account is already overdrawn. 😂

I also need to say something to myself. 

I have spent too many years thinking that if I don't help, I am selfish.

If someone is struggling and I have even a little capacity, I should give it away.

As if being useful is the only proof that I am a good person.

But there is a difference between being generous and slowly turning yourself into a public utility.

I am not a fucking water company. You cannot keep opening the tap because you assume there will always be water.

Eventually, someone has to notice that the reservoir is empty.

And mine is. Or at least, dangerously close.

So, dear younger sis-in-law, I hope things get better for you. 

I hope your debts become manageable. I hope your children are healthy.

I hope your household becomes lighter. 

I hope you don't have to keep wondering where the next payment will come from.

I mean that.

But I also need to learn something I should have learned a long time ago: Your emergency is not automatically my responsibility.

And my exhaustion does not become less real just because someone else's problem sounds louder.

That is not cruelty. That is a boundary. 

Apparently, boundaries are the new luxury item in this family.

Very expensive. Very difficult to find. Limited stock. 😂

And maybe this will sound savage.

Fine. Let it. 

I have spent enough time making everybody comfortable while I was uncomfortable.

I have spent enough time shrinking my own needs because someone else had bigger ones.

I have spent enough time saying, “Maybe next month.”

Maybe next month I will worry about myself. Maybe next month I will save something.

Maybe next month I will buy what I need. Maybe next month I will breathe.

But somehow, next month kept becoming another year.

And I am done donating my future to everybody else's present.

I need my life back. I need money. I need work. I need stability. I need my own savings.

I need to stop living like one unexpected expense can destroy everything.

I need to rebuild something that belongs to me. Not because I suddenly became selfish.

Because I finally understand that I cannot rescue people from a sinking boat while I am quietly making holes in my own.

And yes, I know what people might say. “Family should help family.”

Yes. Family should help family.

But family should also understand when another family member is barely keeping herself afloat.

Love is not supposed to mean, “How much more can we take from the person who has always given?”

That is not family. That is an unpaid position with unlimited responsibilities and no retirement plan. 😂

And here is the truth. I am not financially okay. I am not emotionally okay.

I am not magically fine just because I managed to smile.

I am rebuilding. From fucking rubble. I don't know how long it will take.

Maybe that is embarrassing. Maybe it is not.

But it is the truth. So if I become quieter about money, if I stop offering,

if I stop rescuing, if I start calculating every rupiah before I spend it,

please don't mistake that for me becoming cold.

I am trying to survive. There is a difference.

I spent years being the person who found another solution. 

Now I need to become the person who finds one for herself.

And maybe that is the most savage thing I can do.

Not scream. Not fight. Not blame. Not explain myself for three hours.

Just quietly stop being everybody's backup plan. Because I finally realized something:

I cannot keep building other people's roofs while standing outside in the rain.

So, dear younger sis-in-law,  I hope things get better.

I really do. But please understand something. I am no longer the emergency fund.

I am the emergency. And this time, I am saving myself.

Maybe one day I will be financially comfortable enough that a mountain-sized problem will not sound like the apocalypse.

But today, I am looking at my own life and thinking, Dika, girl. 

For once, save something for yourself. Save the money. Save the energy. Save the strength.

Save the little piece of yourself that keeps getting handed out because everyone assumes you can make another one tomorrow.

Because maybe the woman who has spent years saying, “Don't worry. I'll figure it out.”  

finally deserves to say, “Actually, I am figuring out my own life first.”

And no, that does not make me heartless. It makes me fucking tired.

There is a difference.

After everything I have survived, I think I am finally allowed to choose myself without writing a seventeen-page apology afterward.