Family Drama Stories

I don't really know how to start this, but I needed to get it off my chest somewhere and someway, because it's been years that my poor mom has had to deal with this.

I'm currently a 29(F) who often is my mom's safe person to talk to if she needs to vent about things. I've always done this throughout the years because its felt like the one thing I could do for her with her situation. (That and offer her nights out if she just needs an evening away, things like that.)

Long story short, my dad is very narcissistic and goes above and beyond to paint this perfect picture of himself to people outside of immediate family (aka us). His side of the family can do no wrong, and at some point he decided it'd be a great idea to hire my aunt, his sister, into the family business "to help her out" and have someone "to run things" even though that role was my mom's.

She's taken full advantage of it of course. Basically taking it over as his manager, and over the years she's taken over small jobs within the business that my younger siblings used to do just to help them earn a money as they go.

She treats my mom the worst though. My dad has already been controlling when it comes to finances and has always had an "allowance" type of approach when giving my mom money and hovering over her every purchase, even though the majority of the time it's necessary purchases for her family like groceries. And things have just gotten worse with my aunt butting in because now she does payroll and signs checks. Her name is on stuff that my mom should have access to regardless because of marriage, and sometimes my dad will intentionally tell my aunt not to sign things to delay paying my mom.

All of that above I know is probably illegal one way or another. She knows this, its come up in conversation. I've told her to remember that it's always something to keep it mind if it gets too much, but I think she's just worried about my younger siblings and how it'd affect then. She has her own job thankfully so she has some relief from that, but she shouldn't be stressing as much as she is each day and feeling like she's always an afterthought.

It just made me sad and upset for her. I know by the end of the day that it's not all on me, but I still feel like her emotions are my business since I care about her. There's been times lately that I just want to confront both my dad and aunt after hearing her stories but I don't want to make the situation worse for her.

Sorry for the long rant, I know it's a bit all over the place, I just needed to get that out. There's more to the story and more details as this is actively going on even current day, but I think that's a good stopping point. Thank you if you've read this far.

I recently moved nextdoor to my parents about 4 years ago and things have been great. My kids had their grandparents nextdoor and we had access to their pool and was able to make it to family events that happened at their house. Yesterday they dropped a bomb on me saying they decided that when my dad retires in a few short months they plan on moving to a whole other state that is 9 hours away and that I was the last to know out of all of my siblings. I'm shattered. I'm feeling like we moved for nothing and feeling like I don't matter. I know I should be happy for them but I'm not and I feel like a selfish brat.

I'm not really sure how to write/explain this, so this story will probably be very messy and not make a whole lot of sense.

I am currently 19 years old, and I feel like I have nothing and everything. I feel as if I could go out and get anything I ever wanted like money or assets or whatever, but the one thing I actually want is someone who actually cares about me.

Over the years, interactions with friends and family never felt like they were talking/hanging with me, rather they felt like they were doing it out of pity. I have always felt like people I care about don't really care about me, and these feelings are only reinforced by a lot of old friends and family suddenly leaving me.

I used to have a few childhood friends. I used to be a huge extrovert back then when I was a kid. Two of my childhood friends, April and Suzy, "cut" contact with me. They didn't really cut contact with me completely, I still have contact with Suzy, but we never talk. April is a huge introvert so I never talked to her when we got older. Whenever I talked to Suzy she always gave me dry responses and conversations only lasted a few minutes if that. I used to think she was just busy but she eventually just straight up told me she didn't want to talk to me. I still have no idea what I did or said to make her suddenly hate me. I don't even know if she really does hate me.

The same situation somewhat applies to my parents, that I feel like they don't really care about me. When I was a kid, my parents always argued over everything, sometimes they argued with my brother. I was never part of these arguments since I was so young at the time. All I remember is the only time my parents would interact would be more arguing or if it was dinner time. The only time I really did anything with my parents was during holidays like christmas. I never saw my mom during christmas or thanksgiving, since she went somewhere else for holidays. My dad would tell me she was cheating or that she didn't care enough about me to go to holidays with my dad. During Christmas I remember the tree being filled with presents. I never really wanted to open any of them. To me they felt like toys I would get bored of in ten minutes, reinforced by the fact that at the time my parents would say they were from santa. I would always rip open the presents and after they were all open I would go play with my new stuff and my parents would go back to doing what they did every other day. My dad would watch football and my mom would watch netflix. I have no idea what my brother would do since he was always out doing something.

To be honest, I hate my brother. He's trans and goes by she/her now, but I respect him so little as a person that I don't bother with his pronouns, especially considering how angry he gets when someone misgenders him and the fact that he just sucks as a person. I respect pronouns but specifically not his.

I think the hate for my brother started when I was about 8 or 9. He would always try and get me to do stuff and boss me around for no reason. He would also try and get me in trouble all the time, in hopes my dad would beat me. My dad is old fashioned so he would beat us if we fucked up. I think I really started to hate him when I was in my early teens. This was when my mom and brother had moved out, and my mom had custody of me. My brother took the role of the punisher for some reason so when ever I messed up he would be the one to punish me, usually by taking my xbox or phone away. But sometimes he would do it just because he could. My brother was a lot bigger than me, and he would take my stuff just because he wanted to, and would always make up some excuse about how it was "my fault" my stuff was getting taken. I remember breaking into his room to get my stuff back and running off to my dads house so he wouldnt be able to take my stuff.

I also kinda hate my dad. He's really old fashioned, and he was raised by farms people and grew up in the country rather than the city. I think my hate for him started when he had his stroke. He lost control of his left arm and left leg, and completely gave up on physical therapy. To this day he doesn't have control of his leg or arm and he might as well be an amputee or something. He uses his disability and the fact that he is my dad as an excuse to make me do stuff like cooking and his laundry. He basically treats me like a slave rather then a genuine person. All I ever do when I'm at his house is do my own thing till he eventually calls for me and makes me do some random chore for him. The only thing I remember him doing was buying gifts for me and being done with me. Even today that hasn't really changed. He still does nothing but watch TV and basically never talks to me. Even when we do talk it's always about him, and if we ever argue, and I make a valid point, he just completely shuts down and stops talking.

I'm not really sure if I hate my mom or not. I've been with her for most of my life since she was the one that had custody of me when my parents broke up. Me and my mom always had to move somewhere new. We probably moved into about 4 apartments and 2 houses in total. I never got to make any real friends because of it and eventually just gave up on trying to make friends. My mom was always watching TV just like my dad and I always was in my room doing whatever I felt like doing that day. I really don't have anything to say about my mom. She always kinda felt like a background character in a show rather then someone who was involved in the story.

I have always felt like that people don't really care about me. I wish I could bring it up to people but everyone would tell me off and I'd be better off talking to a brick wall. I have felt suicidal recently and have become more self destructive. I know I should seek therapy, but I'm not going back to the psych ward again, not now.

I'd write more but I have stuff to do, and If I went into every detail about how everything sucked I'd be here all day. I would be writing a book at that point.

As the title stated. I'm 27, male, living with my narcissist mother. I'm severely mentally ill. I also may have a disability but I can't afford assessment. I can't leave because I have no money. Been consistently applying for jobs. No one wants to hire me. I'm tired, angry, frustrated, and hopeless. I can't commit suicide, because I have a cat.

My cat is the reason I'm even here this long. I love her to death. Her name is Melissa.

My mom is trying to kill her. I see her using toxic sprays that can harm her. She over feeds her. I educate her on why. She pretends to understand but will do it behind my back. When I confront her, she acts stupid like she doesn't know what I'm talking about. Consistently lies to my face.

This been 7 years... And it's getting changing me for the worse. I want to hit her but I can't do that to my mother.

I want to runaway, but I can't leave my cat alone with her.

My cat is my savior. All I ever want is just to have some form of financial freedom so I can leave my mom, block her out of my life, and have my kitty be in a safe space with me.

But I guess that's too much to ask for.

I'm scared to rehome her. I also don't want to rehome her....my cat is VERY aggressive around strangers. The thought od betraying her and rehoming her will make her not trust anyone. She's very defensive and territorial (she's spayed).

I don't know what to do.

I fear if I leave her to shelters, they will just euthanize her... And my god, the thought if that will kill me.

I have had an idea...but even in this ve t space, I'm not comfortable opening up. But if I turn 30 and I don't see any improvements. I have an idea to bring me and my cat peace that we deserve at last.

i feel kinda isolated. not drastically but, in a way that makes me feel alone. I'm with my mom but, somehow that doesn't feel like it's enough.

my father left on my birthday and recently got engaged with another woman that neither my mom or myself know. my brother is two hours away from where i live and is also engaged, luckily i know her though and she's sweet. my sister has moved away with a friend and specified she will not be coming back. oh, and she'll also get engaged. my mom has a boyfriend and he has a nine year old daughter but we're not close. she never shuts up and it drains me so i subconsciously avoid her sometimes.

i dunno, i don't exactly know what to do anymore. i mean, i have a best friend but... i love them, i really do, but im starting to get awfully annoyed by them. it's just, a stage i think. not sure though but i kind of hate it a lot. i want to talk to them about this but then i worry if im making the whole thing about me and im projecting because when i usually vent i get really expressive, even in text sometimes and blow up even when i don't try to. undirected anger.

i recently had a dream whereas i had three siblings for some reason. the dynamics of tmnt which i am a fan of, kind of weird to admit but i did have that dream. it was the most enjoyable dream i ever had, even if i don't remember every detail. i only have two siblings but i remember a lot of laughing in that dream. happiness that i really crave. i was sad when i woke up. honestly, i think that reflects a lot on me lmao

i dunno, it feels like people keep leaving me, even if my mom swears she'll never leave me. why don't i believe her? genuine question, i can't bring myself to grasp it for some reason.

i live my life as an artist and a writer which says a lot, to be honest. why are we loners and why does it hurt so bad even if we enjoy it? something i've really thought about. it doesn't feel great at all.

by the way, my damn dog got taken from me by her stupid boyfriend too. keeps calling him his dog. it's my dog too, prick! actually, it's just my dog. he's an australian shepherd and yeah he's meant to herd but just because he lives with him temporarily doesn't make it his dog! does it? i don't know, i feel like im whining.

idk, point of this vent thing is cuz i really miss them, i guess. my own brain is telling me that too i guess, with the dream and all. i don't know what to do. i don't have much energy for school, either. crazy how we see our educators more than our own parents. i really wish it wasn't that way. i'm lonely, and people overlook the youngest sibling role as "spoiled and gets what they want" too much i think. more or less true too but, that's not all of it, man.

First time doing this so bare with me.

I have a hard time forming connections with people, and when I do, I keep them at arms length. At first I thought I was just socially anxious I am but. The more I think about it and trauma around my past. I feel like if I form any deep connections with other people, I feel like if I expose my past (that's filled with abuse from family members) I believe they will take advantage of me or they'll view me as something that I know I'm not. But, feels confirming and believable, I feel like I am used and broken, and no one wants to hang out with a broken person like me so I just keep it in until it burst out and everyone stops and looks. "Like wow a stable guy in my life turns out to be a emotional loser." I don't vent to anyone and if I do it's just simple things in life to be negative about. But my trauma is borderline some kids edgy character backstory on deviantart. So in turn it's too much to handle. I feel too much to handle. I feel like I need to prove my worth over and over, like I am worth loving and given attention. But, some days I feel like an annoying abused dog, I get happy and I get excited when I see someone but if something triggers me I bark and bite. I feel too much and trying to get help, but with me always pushing away people I have no support group and just professionals that are just there to be professionals. I pushed away my recent ex because she hurt me but I feel like I ruined everything for getting hurt. I don't know, everything feels confusing but I know I will eventually get better but it's hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel, you know?

I don't know where else to vent, I feel like I've unloaded enough on a friend of mine and don't want to burden him any longer so...

My Grandma passed away not too long ago and there's some drama going on about the will. Apparently, some aunts and uncles have been manipulating Grandma to give them more things or be given things that other people have taken better care of. Like my cousin wanted to buy Grandma's house after she was moved out of it and she was willing to sell. But then some aunts got in her ear and made her make my cousin pay more for the house. One of the aunts said I would be named in the inheritance, my Mom thinks it's because Dad died and his portion would be split with his kids. She told me not to sign off on anything.

Then again I've heard her non-stop complaining about everything about Dad's side of the family which increased after he died. Pretty much have been discouraged from talking to anyone other than a select few she likes. Part of me understands considering some drama but also feel like she doesn't have the best judgement. She tends to talk down to me even though I'm an adult now and constantly calls me wet behind the ears even when I express interest in going outside my comfort zone and doing new experiences to be not so wet. But of course, she's the Mom and I'm the child so in her opinion she seems to know everything and she's always right, and I'm always wrong. When she asked for my credit card password and I said no she was all "Thank you for trusting me." But who in their right mind would share their credit card password with anyone? Who knows where that info will end up? Then there was the time in high school when I started having a tough time and asked if I could go to the doctor's to see if I had depression. But of course, she said no, I didn't have depression because I didn't act like she did when she had depression. Later I would get so nervous about school that I would get physically ill and I eventually called the doctor myself. And what do you know, I was prescribed anti-depressants. Recently, I was diagnosed with blood clots in my lungs but before that, I had a really bad cold that even took away my voice for a bit. But one night it got so bad I couldn't sleep and my chest was in serious pain. I had a bad feeling so I called 811, they suggested I get Mom to take me to a hospital. I tried to get her to but she refused, insisting it wasn't that serious. But it didn't get better and after half an hour I called a cab to take me to the hospital. There I was diagnosed with pneumonia and stayed there for just over a week, even spent two days in the ICU. When Mom finally came she was all apologetic but when I was checked out I learned she told relatives and friends the reason she didn't take me was because I wasn't clear enough. Even though both the 811 operator and cab driver saw it was urgent and that I was having trouble breathing. It was clear enough for them but not for her?

I believe she thinks I'm a goddamn idiot and so naive I need to have my hand held for every goddamn thing. If I could move out and cut out most people from the family I could but apparently I was hit with anti-employer spray because I can't get a job in my field to save my life. I feel useless but also feel like I could snap at any second. When I tell Mom how I feel, she turns it around and says it's my own fault for feeling that way. When I tell my siblings they either go on about how both sides are to blame or take Mom's side. The same Mom that screamed at them for other things, including one where she threatened to disinherit one of them from Dad's will for not doing what she wants. Granted it involved staying with a not-so-great romantic partner but her having a fucking meltdown only pushed that sibling further into the arms of the fucking creep so it took longer for my sibling to finally break it off with that jerk.

I do have a therapist that I talk to but he's not cheap and I leave still feeling furious. He does give good advice but I never feel myself in the right headspace to act on said advice.

It feels like I'm in a fucking soap opera only the people around me seem to think I'm oblivious to the whole shitshow. It feels like I'm one bad day away from exploding and I don't know how to defuse this timebomb.

Hi, I don't know where to start but with this: My English and grammar sucks, please do not judge, just listen. I have been diagnosed with depression (MDD) and anxiety (GAD) just to give you a heads up.

My life is a total mess, from school, friends, and my own free time. I'm a whole mess. For about 3 weeks now, everyone who interacts with me (friends and family, too) I get super mad at. They don't even do anything, but everything about their presense makes me mad. When they talk to me (or attempt too), touch me (hugs, etc), or contact me. I just want to yell at them to go away, but it's hard in school and at home. I can't just pause and tell them to go away for the next 2 weeks until everything feels normal again. I love my friends and family but I can't deal with them at the moment and I don't know why. I feel 1 emotion: irritation. 24/7, all day, every day. I can't escape it. I want to be able to talk to people without feeling like I'm going to explode with anger. It's not fun, and before anyone says "selfish", I still listen or talk to them even when I really can't. I suck it up. Doesn't help though.

Another thing, I think people think I'm rude. I have bad humour, that's how I grew up. I grew up around bad jokes and I just grew onto them. My humour isn't like outrageously rude, I have morals, and you can tell when I'm joking. But people complain about it, or stare at me after I jokingly respond to something they say. They never mention anything though, they never tell me what I did wrong. So I keep doing it until someone has a "serious talk" about it with me saying that "this person" doesn't like the jokes I'm making and they feel sensitive to them. I don't understand why it takes people so long to say something, I'm not a rude person. I can understand if you don't want me to do something. But thats how I'm portrayed, as a rude/mean person who only cares about herself. But that's not even close to true. They don't know who I am or what my story is. I grew up ignoring my emotions and putting others first for the first 15 years of my life (Yes, when I was younger too). I finally started to listen to myself but I'm put into the box of "selfish". All I am doing is putting me first and listening to myself. My safety and wellbeing is my number one priority from now on since it got destroyed over the past years. People hate on me in secrecy and I can see it. They whisper or comment. I'm not a stereotypical "weird kid", I'm more on the popular side if anything. But every group says something, but they don't know me. I'm honestly so sweet. I suck it up for my friends. Literally every new friend I make, they say "I kinda thought you were rude but you're actually really sweet."

I'm just so done with everyone and their assumptions they make about me. There's so many assumptions. Why are we assuming peoples stories? You don't know what I've been through.

As a father of four kids, you’d think I’d have the patience of a saint by now, but that’s just not the case. The tiniest things set me off, and I hate the way it feels. I love my family more than anything, but there are days when I catch myself snapping over something completely ridiculous and wonder what’s wrong with me.

Take last night, for example. Dinner time at our house is always chaotic. Plates clatter, someone spills their drink, and there’s a constant battle over who gets the last roll. It’s the usual stuff, and I know it’s part of having a big family, but when my youngest accidentally knocked over the salt shaker for the third time in a week, I lost it. I raised my voice, and the look on her face—pure shock—hit me like a punch to the gut. It was just salt. Why couldn’t I just laugh it off like my wife did? Instead, I made her feel bad for a mistake that didn’t matter.

This kind of thing happens all the time. It’s not the big issues that get to me—it’s the little, everyday stuff. Toys left in the hallway, a sock that doesn’t have a match, a crayon mark on the wall... all of it feels like tiny needles poking at me until I can’t hold it in anymore. And when I snap, I immediately regret it. I see the way my kids look at me, the way my wife sighs and shakes her head, and I know I’m the one in the wrong.

I’ve been trying to figure out where this anger is coming from. It’s not like I want to feel this way. I don’t wake up thinking, Gee, I can’t wait to get annoyed at the world today. But by the time the day’s over, I’m worn out. Between work, bills, chores, and keeping up with four kids, it’s like my patience tank runs dry way too fast. It doesn’t take much to set me off after that.

I think part of it is the pressure I put on myself to keep everything together. I want to be a good dad, a good husband, and someone my family can rely on. But when things don’t go the way I expect—when the house is messy, or the kids are fighting, or dinner gets burned—it feels like I’m failing. And instead of dealing with that feeling, I let it boil over into anger.

Another part of it is how I grew up. My dad was the same way. He’d get angry over the smallest things—a shoe left out of place, a door left open, the TV being too loud. Back then, I swore I’d never be like that, but here I am, falling into the same patterns. Maybe it’s something I picked up without realizing it, but that doesn’t make it okay. I don’t want my kids to remember me as the dad who yelled over spilled milk.

I’ve started trying to be more aware of my triggers. Like, when I feel that frustration bubbling up, I try to pause and ask myself, Is this really worth getting upset over? Sometimes it works, but other times, it’s like the anger is faster than my logic. I know I need to find better ways to cope, but it’s hard to break a habit that feels so ingrained.

My wife has been incredibly patient through all of this. She’s the calm one in the family, the one who can laugh off the chaos and remind me to do the same. The other day, after I got upset about a broken remote control, she pulled me aside and said, “You don’t have to carry everything on your shoulders, you know. It’s okay if things aren’t perfect.” I know she’s right, but letting go of that control is easier said than done.

The hardest part is the guilt. After I’ve calmed down, I think about how my kids must see me in those moments, and it breaks my heart. I don’t want them to feel like they’re walking on eggshells around me. I want them to feel safe, to know that mistakes are okay and that their dad loves them no matter what. But when I let my anger take over, I’m sending the opposite message.

If you’re reading this and you’ve felt the same way, I want you to know you’re not alone. Being a parent is hard, and we’re all just trying to do the best we can. But I also know that getting angry over little things isn’t fair—to ourselves or to the people we love. It’s something I’m working on every day, and if you’re struggling with it too, maybe we can figure it out together.

I don’t have all the answers yet, but I know this: I don’t want to keep asking myself, why do I get so angry over little things? I want to find a way to let go, to focus on what really matters, and to be the kind of dad my kids can look up to. It’s not going to happen overnight, but I think acknowledging the problem is the first step.

Here’s hoping the next time the salt shaker falls, I can just laugh it off and keep going. Because in the end, it’s not about the salt—it’s about the love and chaos that comes with being part of a big, messy, wonderful family.

Ugh, I don’t even know where to start. Honestly, I hate my family right now, and I feel bad even saying that, but it’s true. They just don’t get me at all, and it feels like every single thing I do turns into a huge fight. It’s like they’re just waiting for me to mess up so they can jump all over me.

Take last night, for example. My mom asked me to clean my room, and yeah, it was a bit messy, but it’s my room, right? Why does she care so much if there’s clothes on the floor? I said I’d do it later, but she kept yelling about how I’m lazy and don’t respect her. Then my dad joined in, saying how I’m always on my phone and never help out around the house. Like, okay, sorry I have a life? It’s not like I’m doing nothing all day—I have school, homework, and trying to keep up with my friends.

And my siblings? Don’t even get me started. My younger brother is the golden child who can do no wrong. He gets away with everything. If he leaves his stuff lying around, no one cares. But if I do it? Suddenly it’s the end of the world. My older sister is just as bad. She’s constantly acting like she’s better than me, always pointing out what I’m doing wrong. “Why don’t you get better grades like I did?” or “You’re so dramatic, you just want attention.” Like, yeah, thanks for the support.

It’s not just the little things either. It’s like they don’t even try to understand me. Every time I want to talk about something that’s bothering me, they either brush it off or turn it into a lecture. One time I told my mom how stressed I was about school, and instead of helping, she went on about how I need to stop procrastinating and “take responsibility.” I wasn’t even procrastinating! I just needed someone to listen, but nope, all I got was more pressure.

They also have these ridiculous rules that make no sense. Like, why do I have to be home by 9:00 PM on weekends? All my friends get to stay out later, but if I even ask, they just say, “Our house, our rules.” It’s like they don’t trust me at all. And don’t get me started on my phone—they’re always checking it and asking who I’m texting. It’s so embarrassing. Can’t I have any privacy?

The worst part is that they act like they’re doing all this because they care, but it doesn’t feel like caring. It feels like they just want to control everything I do. And then, when I get upset or try to defend myself, they tell me I’m being “disrespectful” or “ungrateful.” How am I supposed to be grateful when they make me feel like this all the time?

Sometimes, I just want to run away. I know that’s dramatic, but I can’t help thinking about it when things get really bad. Like, what if I could just live on my own, do what I want, and not have to deal with all this? If this was a reality show, I wonder what people would think. Would they see me as the bratty teenager who’s overreacting, or would they realize how impossible my family makes everything? Probably the first one, knowing my luck.

I know deep down that they probably don’t mean to make me feel like this, but that doesn’t make it any easier. I just wish they’d actually listen to me instead of always assuming they’re right. I want to feel like I matter, like my opinions and feelings are worth something, but right now, it just feels like I’m constantly being judged and criticized.

Does anyone else feel this way about their family? Am I the only one who feels like no matter what I do, it’s never good enough? I know people say “family is everything,” but what are you supposed to do when it feels like they’re the ones making your life harder?

Hello everyone!

I'm gearing up for a wedding soon which will be attended mostly by my boyfriend’s circle of friends. My mom, having always been a stunner and a former model, offered to help me get ready for the big day.

Let me give you some background: my mom is absolutely breathtaking and has always been in fantastic shape. Both my brothers inherited her good looks, making them quite the dashing pair. Being the sole daughter, I guess there was an expectation for me to follow in her gorgeous footsteps.

Growing up, I steered clear of anything overtly girly and was squarely the tomboy type. Post-puberty, I put on weight, and though I wouldn't consider myself obese, I'm definitely on the plumper side – 78kg at 166cm. I don't obsess over skin care or makeup either; it's just not my thing.

Though I profoundly love my mom and I know the feeling is mutual, she hasn't always been the most supportive when it comes to comments about my appearance. Throughout my teenage years, her remarks about my weight and looks really did a number on my confidence. I can handle constructive feedback but not when there's an undercurrent of scorn or cruelty.

Things have gotten a bit better over the years. I confronted her once about how her words were affecting me, and she toned it down somewhat. However, she still slips up now and then, commenting on a pimple or mocking my hair, even suggesting quite bluntly how I might 'improve' my appearance. Sometimes it’s too much, even for me.

Cut to the current issue: my mom had a series of dresses for me to try for the wedding, and one of them was a gown she wore two years back at my graduation. It was a snug fit, to say the least. My mom and my aunt pushed and pulled to zip it up, but no luck - the zipper gave out. My mom couldn't help but exclaim, “Wow, you really are fat,” which set my aunt off on a teasing spree. I held back my feelings and stayed silent.

We sifted through more dresses and I finally picked one that was stretchy and fitted just right. Post the try-on session, my mom, in her typical fashion, asked if I had been skipping the gym and warned that I'd need to keep my stomach in during the wedding. That was the last straw for me. I decided I’d had enough and told her I would buy my own dress instead.

Now, mom feels I overreacted and I’m just wasting money on a whim. My siblings accuse me of being oversensitive about my weight, whereas my friends and boyfriend support my stance. Am I really being unreasonable here?

I wonder how this situation would unfold if it were on a reality TV show. Would the audience sympathize with me, or would they find humor in my family’s blunt commentary? Reality shows thrive on drama, after all. Could it be possible that viewers might side with me in seeking respect and emotional support from a family that puts appearance above feelings?

I'm feeling undermined by my family's comments about my weight. Am I overreacting?

My friend Elena recently invited me to prepare a traditional Thanksgiving dinner at her home in Italy, where we both live. Though originally from China and having spent over two decades in the U.S., Elena wanted to host a Thanksgiving feast for a group of 12, doubling my usual guest count of six.

Crafting an authentic Thanksgiving meal in Italy is tricky; there's no easy access to canned pumpkin or cranberry sauce, so everything must be made from scratch. Thankfully, over the years, I've managed to gather the necessary dishes, tools, and spices, and have aligned with suppliers for harder-to-find ingredients. Cooking is a significant part of my life here.

Elena lives in a lavish home with her British husband, and their financial situation is more affluent than ours. Despite some initial hesitation due to the stark contrast in our lifestyles, the thought of cooking in a beautiful kitchen and the joy of sharing this festive tradition with new friends persuaded me to accept her invitation.

However, soon after agreeing, complications emerged. Elena proposed we hold the dinner on the Sunday before Thanksgiving for convenience, which I agreed to given that we are in Italy and flexibility seemed reasonable. But then, Elena suggested that when shopping for ingredients, I should cover half the cost, and she'd reimburse me for her "half". This unexpected financial imposition took me by surprise, especially with the scope of the tasks I was already committing to—planning, shopping, cooking, and teaching.

When I expressed my inability to meet her funding proposal due to budget constraints, Elena wanted to simplify the menu, reducing it from the full spread of turkey, fixings, candied yams, roasted veggies, an appetizer, and pie. She even made a disparaging remark about her friends not "eating like pigs" and had another guest make the pumpkin pie with my recipe to avoid buying the ingredients herself.

Considering Elena and her husband's wealth—they could easily spend more on a spontaneous lunch than the cost of the entire dinner—the situation felt increasingly unfair. Her actions seemed to reflect taking advantage of my good will. I’m left feeling that stepping back and declining her terms might be necessary, given her attitude appears both manipulative and ungracious.

If this scenario unfolded on a reality show, viewers would likely be divided. Some might sympathize with my position while others could perceive a dramatic confrontation as entertaining, possibly rallying behind me for standing up against what could be seen as exploitative demands. There could certainly be cheers for setting boundaries.

So am I wrong for refusing to financially contribute to this dinner or let myself be pushed around? It seems like protecting my peace of mind from this toxically charged situation is paramount.

I might just bow out and explain to her that I'm uncomfortable with how things are progressing—feeling stressed and manipulated isn't what this holiday should be about.

My spouse, Michael, and I cherish a petite yet profoundly significant ritual that blooms each year since we exchanged vows. The essence of this tradition isn't elaborate but holds immense significance in my heart. Each November, specifically on the weekend preceding Thanksgiving, we embark on a serene journey to a quaint town nestled by a lake, merely an hour's drive away. This tranquil outing involves leisurely strolls, heartfelt conversations, and the selection of a unique Christmas ornament. This ornament, tenderly chosen, symbolizes the essence of our year together. It’s a modest day out, yet it profoundly enriches our festive season.

Michael recently befriended a man at his gym named Jake. Their friendship flourished quickly which I think is wonderful, as Michael often shies from forming new friendships. Jake, a hiking and gaming enthusiast, shares numerous interests with Michael, making their bond even more special.

However, a predicament arose when Jake invited Michael for a weekend getaway, coincidentally planned for the same weekend as our cherished tradition. Michael approached me somewhat reluctantly about possibly rescheduling our annual trip so he could join his friend. I was taken aback at first; the thought that he would consider altering our plans wounded me slightly. Michael argued, perhaps sensibly, that changing the date wouldn’t impose any logistical issues.

Despite understanding his point, I couldn’t mask my dismay. This tradition is our sacred communion—a token of our shared life that perhaps holds more esteem in my heart than his. On expressing this, Michael seemed both taken aback and slightly agitated, insinuating that I was making a mountain out of a molehill.

After a brief discussion, Michael agreed to maintain our planned tradition, although I could sense his disappointment, which inadvertently filled me with guilt. Now, wracked with doubt, I ponder if my insistence on maintaining our ritual, pivotal as it may seem to me, is an overindulgence on my part.

Suppose this scenario played out in a reality show setting, the audience might revel in the drama, eagerly awaiting my reaction or criticizing my insistence on tradition. The appealing appeal of reality TV often lies in observing how individuals navigate personal conflicts under the public's scrutinizing gaze. Would viewers champion my dedication to tradition, or would they perceive me as overly rigid and unsupportive of Michael’s new friendship?

Am I unreasonable for wanting our tradition to take precedence over his new friend?

For the past 16 years of marriage, punctuality has continued to be an elusive concept for my spouse's parents. They are consistently late by 20 to 30 minutes and fail to notify us in advance of their tardiness. Last Halloween was particularly telling. They had promised to arrive at 6:30 PM for trick-or-treating with my now-teenage children, who had canceled their own plans to spend the evening with their grandparents. When 7:15 PM rolled around without any sign of them, a phone call revealed they were still "5 minutes away." They eventually showed up 23 minutes later, apparently unconcerned by their lateness.

This recurring issue has compelled me to establish a new family rule I've dubbed the "5-minute rule." According to this directive, if someone says they'll arrive at a specific time and fails to show within 5 minutes of that time, we proceed without them. If it's a meal, we'll order and start eating. If they arrive as we're finishing, we’ll simply leave.

An example of this rule's implementation occurred just this evening. They had made plans to dine out with my teenagers, affirming a 7:00 PM pickup. Reminder of the "5-minute rule" was given during a phone conversation at 2:00 PM. Nonetheless, by 7:05 PM, they had neither appeared nor called. When I contacted them, they claimed to be 10 minutes away. I directed them not to rush, as we would not be waiting, despite their pleas for another chance citing their one-hour drive as an excuse.

It feels outright disrespectful that they don't regard our time with any seriousness. Should I feel bad about enforcing my rule?

Imagine how this issue would unfold if it was part of a reality TV show scene. The dramatization of the confrontation, complete with tense music and close-ups, would likely divide viewers. Some might side with the grandparents, arguing that family deserves patience and understanding. Others might applaud the enforcement of boundaries as a necessary step in cultivating respect for others' time. The episode would definitely spark debate and could possibly even trend on social media as viewers share their own family punctuality horror stories.

Now, thinking about this situation, I wonder: Is my new "5-minute rule" too harsh?

Recently, my mother informed me that she and my stepdad were making arrangements for their future, including drafting their wills. Rather than discussing minor inheritances like heirlooms, she dropped a major bombshell. They plan to bequeath their house to me and my two stepbrothers to share as a living space. It's a gorgeous house in a decent area, but the thought of living there with my stepbrothers never crossed my mind. I'm currently living comfortably with a roommate, quite content with my living situation.

During this discussion, my mother also revealed their intentions for me to become the legal guardian of my younger stepbrother, who, at 30, has an intellectual disability requiring lifelong care. Although he manages his basic needs and can make simple meals, his overall welfare is a permanent responsibility. My other stepbrother, who is autistic, seems content with his life, working at a factory without showing any desire to live independently.

Having joined our family a few years ago when my mother remarried, I've never really bonded with them, except for my stepsister. She and I had many great moments shopping and hanging out until she relocated. Given the situation, I would've thought that either she or their somewhat estranged mother would be more suited to care for him.

Moreover, I have future plans with my partner, aiming to eventually relocate to her native country. It seems utterly unreasonable to spring the responsibility of an additional person, potentially two, onto her as well. Financially and logistically, supporting my stepbrothers from abroad isn’t feasible, yet my mother hinted that should the brothers end up living alone, my sister and I would need to finance their upkeep. This, to me, felt exceedingly unfair and impractical, as it’s unlikely they would move if others are managing their affairs, leading to potential property neglect.

I’m contemplating a firm conversation with my mother, expressing my unwillingness to assume guardianship or financial responsibility for my stepbrothers. Both are somewhat independent and could feasibly share an apartment. Declining this role wouldn’t be out of cruelty but rather a recognition of my limitations and life plans.

If this ordeal were part of a reality show, the drama and emotional intensity would likely captivate viewers. The audience might speculate on familial obligations and personal boundaries, potentially siding with or against me based on their personal views on family responsibilities and individual rights.

Considering the nature of such shows, the reactions could range from empathetic understanding to harsh judgment, placing my decision under a sensationalized spotlight.