I wouldn't say we're rich, but we are very comfortably middle class (in a second world country, so it means something different than in the first world, but still not poor poor). I had done the math back then and I just looked up the prices again, and it genuinely wouldn't have been that expensive to bury me, if they followed my wishes and didn't do any unnecessary things - I want to be cremated and have a tree planted instead of a headstone, also no ceremony necessary; this would have come up to around a month or two (max) of my regular living expenses that they were already paying for, as is customary over here (uni is free, so it was just rent and some food, which parents usually pay for all of their children, and my siblings are much older and were both done with school at this point so it was just me).

I am finally approaching finishing my studies and plan on getting a job and going low contact, but I don't want to burn bridges just yet... Despite doing many, many shitty things to me growing up, they're still my parents and I know they care about me, they just don't know how to show it. It also doesn't help that they think they always know best 100% of the time, and when our ideas of what is best for me don't meet up, they don't even consider "indulging" me and instead will stubbornly do whatever they think is best - that is why they never let me get professional help, because they didn't believe I needed medication for the chemical imbalance in my brain, what I needed was to grit my teeth and will the depression away, preferably while doing hard work on fresh air so I "wouldn't have the time" to... have a chemical imbalance I guess. They truly think they know better than doctors. (Recently they also, despite both being university educated, highly intelligent people, gotten radicalized into being anti-vax, god help us all.)

They also never learn. Whenever for example we disagree on something like them always misgendering and deadnaming me even three years after I came out, they're like "well I don't think you're trans, and I think it would be best for you if I keep deadnaming and misgendering you" (our language is very gendered so it's literally half the words in every sentence); I have taken to saying "oh, like how you thought I didn't have depression! Because that turned out well for everyone" which is petty as fuck but like, I was so damn close to actually ending my life. I described it to my therapist as "it's always an option whenever I do anything. Like, I could have a yogurt, or I could kill myself," and that's the state I was in for like six years, three of which were while I was finally getting treatment (that my sister insisted on paying for, because she couldn't watch me like that anymore... I love her so much).

So yeah... I guess I'm just really hurt that they never tried to actually get me the help I needed, despite our functioning medical system (yay, Europe), but they did decide to get a life insurance policy on me... I know it probably didn't even occur to them that it could come off that way, but it still feels like they wanted to profit from my death instead of admitting they were wrong and getting me the help I so desperately needed. And since they refuse to listen to things they don't want to hear, I can't even talk to them about it, or at least I don't know how...

The only two times I managed to get through to them somewhat were when my mom caught me crying my eyes out about something when I was barely an adult - one of them was that they never ever knocked before entering my room, which always reminded me of when I was younger and we had an argument and I would run off and sit against my door to hold it closed and they would force it open, pushing my body with it, entering my safe space by force only to yell at me, which felt just as violating as when I was molested as a child (not by them! they didn't do anything abt it when I told them years later about my cousin, to "keep the peace" afaik, but they never did anything of the sort to me); the other was about the misgendering, when she eventually promised to try to speak as neutrally as possible. Both times, I had to have the argument many times and get really upset to the point that I would feel helpless enough to cry in my room about it; only then when she walked in on me was she willing to even listen. They still don't always knock, and keep misgendering me but there was a bit of progress; I'm just not sure if "get so upset about the issue that you, as an adult, cry helplessly and she happens to walk in on you" is a good lesson to learn on how to communicate with your parents about their actions' impact on you.

(This is way longer than I expected but once I started I couldn't stop, sorry. If you read this whole thing, thank you for listening.)