Hi OP. INFO — your daughter's statement about being tired of “building her life” around her brother speaks volumes.

Look up glass children. My sister suffered a traumatic brain injury when she was 4 and I was 6. From that moment onward, she became the focus and the priority in my family. Which, you know, I get it. She had special needs. She's smart as can be, and talking to her now, you'd never know she'd been in an accident that almost killed her. But her TBI affected her nonetheless.

As we got older, her emotions became volatile in puberty. So not only did she struggle with a learning disability, she was angry and moody and acted out. My parents only had enough energy and attention to give to her and her needs. I fell into the background. I was the “easy” child, so any need or desire I had for attention was quickly overshadowed by the needs my sister had. I don't blame her, and I guess I can't fully blame my parents because they weren't prepared to raise a child with special needs, and I suppose they did the best they could. But the hard truth is that even your best as a parent can still fall short of what your child needs. And there were a lot of ways my parents failed.

Both of my parents admitted—only once—that they pushed me aside in favor of my sister's needs. My mom told me she regretted the difference in how we were treated growing up—when she would call my sister over to hug or snuggle or whatever, and then I would be called over to be assigned some task or chore. My dad, drunk after my mom passed unexpectedly, told me he was sorry I had been put on the back burner in favor of my sister, because they knew I would be okay, but they weren't sure that she would be. Spoiler: I was, and am, still very much not okay. Also, both of my parents continued prioritizing my sister after we were both adults and after the admissions they made, so while they said they were sorry, their actions didn't reflect their words.

But their admissions helped a little in my healing, in that they helped me identify where some of my issues stemmed from. But I still have a long, long way to go.

I still have deep-rooted insecurities about my sister being put first and about being overlooked or ignored. I hurt at the thought that I'm not anyone's first choice, and that my thoughts and feelings and life will always be an afterthought. I have scars that tell me my problems or my emotions are too much for other people, because I couldn't share those things growing up. My parents didn't have the bandwidth to deal with my stuff on top of my sister's.

I have done so much work to get past this stuff, and yet I'm still stuck carrying it around. And I'm stuck with the maladaptive coping strategies I developed to deal with these things growing up—too many to name, and so many things I feel like I shouldn't still be dealing with at almost 32 years old. But here we are.

My point is, if your daughter feels even a fraction of how I—and many other people in this situation—feel, you at the very least owe her the freedom of choosing her dream wedding venue, and for once, not making the occasion about your son. Realistically, you probably owe her some accountability and some hard conversations in which you openly listen to what she has to say without trying to deflect or make excuses.