Sometimes, life puts you in messy situations where you’re not sure if you’re doing the right thing or not. That’s what Na Me F— Up? is about — real Nigerians sharing the choices they’ve made, while you decide if they fucked up or not.

Gbemisola* (28) moved to Lagos for better career opportunities, but when her parents sent her younger sibling to stay with her “for two weeks,” she realised she was being slowly pushed into a responsibility she wasn’t financially or emotionally ready for.

When you’re done reading, you’ll get to decide: Did Gbemi fuck up or not?

This is Gbemi’s dilemma, as shared with Adeyinka

I’ve lived in Ibadan almost my entire life. I grew up there, went to secondary school there, and attended the University of Ibadan. By my final year, I already knew I didn’t want to remain in Ibadan long-term. I was interested in advertising, and most of the opportunities I wanted were in Lagos.

My parents didn’t support that decision at all. They believed Ibadan was safer and cheaper. They kept reminding me that I wouldn’t have to pay rent or transport if I stayed. To them, moving to Lagos felt unnecessary and risky. To me, staying back in IB felt like giving up before trying.

When it was time for NYSC, I tried to serve in Lagos through a family friend. I later found out my parents contacted the same person behind my back and insisted that I be posted to Ibadan. They said they were acting in my best interest, but it made me angry. I still went to camp in Oyo, but I worked my redeployment to Lagos without telling them until everything was final.

Lagos was harder than I expected. I stayed with a relative during NYSC, which helped financially, but I didn’t enjoy it. I had no privacy, and I constantly felt like I was inconveniencing someone. After service, I saved up and rented a small self-con. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was affordable and gave me privacy. 

Then, a few months after I moved, my parents called to say my younger sibling had finished secondary school and should come and stay with me in Lagos for a short holiday. They said it would only be for two weeks. I wasn’t enthusiastic, but I agreed because it sounded temporary. I also didn’t want it to seem like I was rejecting family.

The two weeks passed quickly. Then it became a month. Nobody asked if he could stay longer; they just left him. Soon, my groceries started finishing faster, fuel didn’t last as long, and I spent more on feeding. I stopped having quiet time to myself. My apartment was already small, but it felt even smaller.

I didn’t mind having him around emotionally. I love my sibling. But financially, it was a strain. I earn modestly, and I budget carefully. Adding another person meant spending almost double, and nobody offered to support me financially.

I eventually called my parents and explained that I was struggling. I told them Lagos was expensive and that I wasn’t earning enough to comfortably take care of another person. They listened, but they kept insisting it was temporary. They said he was safe with me and that it was better than him being idle at home.

Another month passed, and he was still with me. By December, I was exhausted. I felt like I was responsible for someone I hadn’t planned for. So I decided to send him home before New Year, using the excuse that he should spend the rest of the holidays with them. I put him on a bus back to Ibadan. At the time, my parents didn’t argue much, and I felt relieved.

After the holidays ended, they started calling again. They said he should return to Lagos. When I said no, the conversations changed. They started accusing me of abandoning family.  At some point, they asked me if I was saying that if they both died tomorrow, I wouldn’t be able to take care of my sibling.

That question shocked me. I wasn’t refusing the responsibility of his care forever. I was saying that right now, I wasn’t capable of it. I’m still managing myself. Some months, I barely save. But they didn’t see it that way. To them, I was being selfish and ungrateful.

The hardest part is that my sibling is aware of everything. He knows there’s tension. He knows my parents want him back in Lagos and that I don’t. I worry about how that makes him feel. I worry that he thinks I don’t want him around or that he’s a burden, even though that’s not how I feel.

Now, my parents keep pushing, and I keep saying no. They’ve started using emotional pressure, and it’s draining. I feel guilty all the time, even when I know I’m not wrong. I hate that I’m being made to feel like a bad daughter for stating my limits.

Looking back, I think my mistake was agreeing in the first place without setting clear boundaries. Now, I’m trying to hold my ground, but the whole situation has weighed heavily on me. 

I feel like saying no makes me a bad sister. But that’s far from the truth.

 *Names have been changed to protect the identity of the subjects.