My roommate Tasha thought I was absolutely insane.

“They’re adults, Rebecca. They should be helping you through college, not the other way around.”

I just dismissed her concerns.

“You just don’t understand how things work in my family,” I’d say, a familiar ache in my chest.

After graduation, I landed a position at a financial advisory firm in Boston. The starting salary was more money than my parents had ever seen, and I felt this overwhelming sense of responsibility to share my good fortune. When Stephanie decided she wanted to attend Michigan State, I paid her tuition in full. When my parents’ roof leaked, I paid for the repairs. When their car broke down, I financed a new one.

I became the family’s unofficial banker, sending money home regularly and maintaining that joint account for any emergencies.