I Lied About College Assignments To Skip Family Gatherings

Let me take you back to the first time I realized that family gatherings were no longer just “family time” for me. They had become a source of stress, frustration, and a constant reminder that no matter how old I got, I would always be treated like a kid in the eyes of my extended family. I’m talking about the endless family meetings that, over time, felt like an obligation rather than something I looked forward to.

It started in my final year of college. My family, particularly my uncles and aunts, had high expectations for me, expectations that felt more like a weight than encouragement. They would always ask me questions about my career plans, my grades, and why I hadn’t “settled down” yet.

As if the pressure of my assignments wasn’t enough, they insisted on making these “family meetings” a regular thing. What was meant to be a gathering of loved ones quickly turned into a roundtable of judgment.

I get it, families are supposed to come together and share in each other’s lives. But what started out as an innocent way to stay connected became a battleground for comparison, criticism, and forced conformity. Whenever we gathered at my grandmother’s house, I felt like I had to fight for my own space, both physically and emotionally.

The worst part? It wasn’t just the forced small talk or the guilt about missing out on family bonding; it was the constant undermining from the people I thought I could trust the most.

My cousins and I were all adults, but we were still treated like children. My aunts and uncles would eat at the big table, discussing “grown-up” things, while the younger generation (my cousins and me) would sit at a smaller table in the corner, relegated to serving food or being ignored.

We were expected to be grateful for any attention we received, but all we ever got were lectures or criticism, especially when we expressed any desire to do our own thing.

I couldn’t stand it. The frustration kept building, but there was a part of me that felt trapped. I didn’t want to disappoint my grandmother, who was the one person in the family who didn’t judge or push me. She’s always been my rock, and she genuinely wanted us to spend time together. But the longer I stayed in these gatherings, the more I felt like I was suffocating in a world where my voice didn’t matter.

The Lie I Started Telling

So, what did I do? Like anyone who felt cornered, I found a way to escape. I started lying about my college assignments, telling my family that I had exams, group projects, or deadlines. I justified it by saying that I had to prioritize my academic responsibilities, but deep down, I knew that it wasn’t just about my work.

I didn’t want to endure the judgment, the small talk, or the lectures about why I wasn’t “doing enough” with my life. And I certainly didn’t want to spend hours sitting in a corner, being treated like I was still a teenager.

Most of the time, the lie worked. They’d let me off the hook, though sometimes they’d try to argue that I could just study there with them. But I wasn’t stupid. I knew how these conversations would go.

My aunts and uncles would inevitably criticize my choices and question my career trajectory. They were always so quick to offer unsolicited advice, all while expecting me to be grateful for their “guidance.” I was tired of it. So, the lie became my escape route, my ticket to freedom.

But every time I lied, I felt a nagging guilt. My grandmother, bless her heart, was the one person who always tried to make me feel welcome. She’d force me to sit with her and talk, always offering me money or little trinkets that I didn’t need but couldn’t refuse.

I would sit there, pretending to enjoy our conversation, but truthfully, it felt like a waste of time. We weren’t really connecting; we were just going through the motions. I loved her, but I knew I needed more than just superficial visits. I wanted meaningful moments, not ones where I was pretending to be someone I wasn’t.

When the Guilt Became Too Much

The more I lied, the more I realized I wasn’t just avoiding family gatherings, I was avoiding facing the fact that I hadn’t yet found the courage to set boundaries. I wanted to avoid the criticism, the uncomfortable moments, and the fake smiles, but in doing so, I was also avoiding something deeper: the fear of disappointing my family. And worse, I was losing touch with my own needs and desires.

The breaking point came one weekend when my family gathered for a major holiday celebration. I had told them I was too busy with a “last-minute” group project, but I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the lie crushing me.

As soon as I sat down to finish some work that night, I realized I wasn’t actually getting anything done. I wasn’t focused on my work at all. I was focused on the fact that I was sitting at home, alone, missing out on what could’ve been a fun, carefree time with my cousins.

It dawned on me: I wasn’t just avoiding the family gatherings, I was avoiding a deeper conversation with myself. I was avoiding the truth: that I needed to learn how to set boundaries. I needed to stop letting my family control my decisions and learn how to prioritize my own happiness, even if that meant saying no to some family expectations.

Learning to Say No and Finding Peace

From that point on, I decided to stop lying about my assignments. I didn’t want to hide behind excuses anymore. Instead, I started having honest conversations with my family.

I told them how I felt, how the constant judgment, the feeling of being treated like a child, was draining. I didn’t blame them for everything, but I needed them to understand that I was an adult now, and I deserved the space to make my own choices without being judged.

It wasn’t easy. They didn’t take it well at first. Some of my relatives tried to guilt-trip me, saying I was being selfish, that family time was important and I should be more present. But for the first time, I didn’t back down. I stood my ground and said, “I love you all, but I can’t keep sacrificing my mental peace for this.”

The truth was that my family wasn’t going to change overnight. But by setting boundaries, I was able to regain some control over my life. I started choosing when to spend time with them, rather than feeling forced into it.

I’d spend time with my cousins without the pressure, and I found myself actually enjoying it. I learned that family doesn’t have to mean sacrificing your happiness for the sake of tradition.

And as for my grandma? I started visiting her more on my own terms. I stopped lying, and I found ways to make our time together meaningful, even if it was just sitting in silence, enjoying each other’s company.

The Power of Boundaries

Looking back on everything, I’ve learned a lot about myself. I’ve learned that setting boundaries is not about being selfish; it’s about respecting my own needs and acknowledging that my happiness matters, too. I no longer feel guilty for skipping family gatherings when I know they will drain me. I’ve found peace in saying no, and it has made my relationships with my family more genuine.

As for my freelancing career, things have been steadily improving. I’m learning how to manage my time better, and I’m becoming more confident in my decisions. It’s not perfect, and there are still moments of doubt, but I’ve learned to trust myself. I’ve learned that the right people will support me, and the ones who try to bring me down, whether out of jealousy or old expectations, don’t need a place in my life.

Family gatherings will always have their place, but now, I choose when to show up. I no longer let anyone dictate how I should spend my time. And that’s the most liberating feeling of all.