Family Drama Stories - page 3

I feel I can't just leave my father like this. He's my doctor, and he doesn't deserve what he's going through, what I'm doing to him, leaving him, being at the mercy of such a huge mess because of me, and having to tolerate it. It's incredible how others want to take my parents' place at all costs. In fact, they don't know how to maintain it either, resorting to confusion worthy of the most serious and justified accusations.

In fact, I feel I can't allow my father to cease being my doctor because neither he nor anyone else has seen what caused my somatization. In fact, no one has been able to pinpoint the cause except for the therapist, who has been the most qualified professional. He, along with the other doctors, have applied desperate measures to resolve the situation, completely ignoring the psychological aspect. This has resulted in a sad, unsettled fishing ground, where everyone has tried to gain ground. In fact, I fear the doctors fueled this, and so did my father, an attitude that is immature from every point of view on both sides.

I don't feel either of them acted well. In fact, I'm open about going with one of them; I would definitely go with my father. If I go with another, the issue would be more complex, in principle, because there isn't the same structured trust that has existed for many years. On top of that, another person won't be willing to listen and sacrifice as my father does. In fact, the ground where everyone has their own life is at the mercy of being exposed. Indeed, the other professionals' fight for me is touching, but if I stay with them, it's detrimental to me in the long run.

The attempt to seize power by any means is impressive, even in the field of medicine. These professionals, including my father, should be ashamed. My body can't be a seizure of power, nor should any patient's. Truly, it's disappointing. Frankly, I don't want to speak to any of these professionals again. They don't measure the impact of their actions. In fact, they should have been even more cautious than my father if they wanted to win me over. I find them all worthy of distrust.

With my father, at least there are some comforts already established, even though the bond is the same as I would have with these professionals. That's why I see myself with this one. But, if I'm honest, I wish I wasn't with either of them because neither of them is committed to being in complete harmony with me. It makes me wonder: When will a mature person come into my life? In this case, I can't take care of myself as a doctor; in fact, I don't even like that question. That's why I say there must be someone who can at least adequately assist me in this. I don't know if I'm asking for some kind of guardian angel or something like that.

Why the hell should I depend on a third party? Why me? Why can't I depend on myself? Frankly, I don't understand. I wish things were different. I wish it all depended on emotions, but that would be like living in a daze and closing the door to that person if they came along. Why can't I trust any professional to help me?

In fact, I have to confess, I feel like the psychiatrist isn't helping me. She's not doing anything. I feel like therapy is just serving as a show for the professional. I hate that I'm serving that purpose. I would like a serious professional to treat me. When will that professional arrive, for God's sake? With which professional will I ever feel truly safe?

With which professional will I ever feel truly welcomed? With which professional will I feel they are leading me in the right direction? I feel in some way that I'm searching for my father in some professional, for someone outside who resembles him, given that I no longer seek him. However, that doesn't mean I've stopped searching for his personality in another person, just as it happens with my mother, and I hadn't realized it.

I have to say it: Where will I find the model of father I want? Where will I find the model of mother I'm looking for? Does it exist? Could it be that I'm there somewhere? I have to say it: Where will I find a substitute family model for mine? Whatever it is I want? Where will I be able to live in that family I so wanted? It was always my dream to live those years that I couldn't live and that I feel I deserve to live, that I feel that life owes me no matter what, because I feel that under no circumstances was it fair to have had a family so uprooted to the point of questioning whether there really was a family and not some kind of apartment with people who were living there by pure coincidence and by the grace of fate, which is how I felt at home, with no chance for anyone to leave.

Where is that house I love so much? Where is that home I long for so much? Where will there be that place where I feel I can live my childhood again? With whom will this be possible? With whom? Who will be able to make me fulfill that dream? Will the answer exist? Will it be worth it? Is it something I could regret? Damn.

I'm tired of searching outside for that childhood I couldn't experience with others around me. Although I confess, I feel I've achieved it, and that's precisely what my submission to my father was, the debt he considered he owed me, and I can understand why he pays it today, precisely for bringing me life and for having me live all these things when the conditions weren't favorable under any circumstances because, in the beginning, there wasn't anyone stable enough to help him with his, and that was exactly what he needed. I understand the financial support, the unchecked freedom, and the heightened restraint of my feelings; These were precisely the three missing elements he always wanted to give me, but for fear of the consequences of his environment, he never succeeded. These were devastating consequences that attacked him as the family's financial supporter. These extremes weren't something he should take into account.

I have to say it. After this text, I feel like I now understand my life as it is.

I feel a lot of affection toward one of the doctors who treated me. In fact, I feel a sense of care that neither my father nor my mother had ever given me. I feel affectionate, loving, and for the first time, I don't feel like speaking ill of parental figures as I always have, and that makes me happy. I confess that I never liked speaking ill of my parents because I felt it was denigrating my past, my person, that part of me that was made up of them, but I couldn't help it.

In fact, I confess, I'm sorry to be writing about them like this because I feel it's distancing me from them, and I don't want to do that. I don't want to distance myself from other parental figures again; I'm not interested in doing that. I feel like I want to be with them, not cause them any inconvenience, no fights, just follow them blindly. Yes, that's exactly it.

I feel like I've put all my critical tools to work distancing myself from my parents, which was my greatest wish. I didn't want that to happen again. In fact, that's why I feel like these doctors are like paternal figures, and I feel like they've adapted me in some way. It fulfills me in part because I feel like they're replacing my parents, but I can't help it.

How can I not give them credit for being paternal figures if they've earned it? Even with their example. They're inclusive of me. I even feel like I'm part of the family, where I'm taken into account, where I'm a priority, where I'm taken seriously and with care. I feel like this made me feel completely cut off from the family. My parents were always willing to make me feel marginalized, but these doctors, on the other hand, make me feel like I'm part of something, that there's a system that loves me, that appreciates me, that wants me alive. With my parents, I felt like that was impossible because I was born among them, which didn't seem fair at all.

I never felt like part of the family. They never allowed me to. No matter how hard I tried to get inside, they kept me defensive about my parents. I simply had to keep quiet because it was them, as if they were the perpetrators of a massacre to which I was condemned without any salvation. Even with my family, they closed the door on me and left me in a dead end. I can't ask the doctors to play my parents, however, I see an interest in them in making me their son, given that, for some reason, I see that they have lacked that possibility, mainly due to their spirit of justice, commitment, and friendliness, which precisely constitutes a burden that is very difficult to compensate.

In fact, with another of the doctors, I feel a relationship, also familiar, in terms of a courtship, but it goes beyond that; it's even familial. The group of doctors who treated me feel like a kind of family that somehow adapted me, that opened their doors to me. I don't understand why. It's as if, despite the treatment having been completed, they had adapted me given the conditions I expressed regarding my parents, as if they weren't acting as caregivers, as if their job served as an excuse to fulfill that position from the perspective they can offer. Their pain over my situation, even though they didn't express it, was harsh, and this time, unlike what they could do with their friends or with someone other than the patient, they couldn't distance themselves from it, given that their duty was to care for me, and it remains that way. It's as if the grieving process they had to endure regarding me in order to transition to other patients had never ended.

It's strange. So, I have a new family, but the question is: How is this? Why did it happen to me? Why did I have to transition to a new family? This happened without anyone's permission; no one wanted this to happen. We're all giving in to our impulses just like that. We all turned our backs on the issue because there was no excuse to escape, but this time it's not possible. How could this have happened to me? Isn't it easier to walk around without family? I don't even see these doctors; they're distant. I vaguely know them, because of life's circumstances, on the same level of appreciation with which I view my parents. Why is it that I value them as family? I feel that the same distance I maintain with my family, I maintain with them. In fact, this doctor, who I didn't specify as my father but rather as my sister, was so distant, uncommunicative, she was my sister. What surprises me is that I experience this simple pattern of interaction as a substitute and satisfying family. I mean, I can't believe my family is so easy to replace. In fact, beyond them, I don't know anything, a question I experience with my blood family itself.

Is it that in my family, we are so empty? The doctors have given me vague interaction. Exactly what I've felt with my parents regarding working together. Is there so little in my family that unites us? The family relationship between us has been practical Especially that of us being in a work environment where my sister and I are the clients. How could this union have happened just like that? I can't believe my family is so simple and vague. I can't believe it. I can't believe I can replace it so easily. In fact, I feel more confident with these vague details.

I can't believe what I'm experiencing. And just like that, this emerged out of nowhere, just like that. With barely any planning. Furthermore, with selected personnel, I'm talking about doctors, for their work skills. What the heck was my family back then? I swore we were much more complex. Not one you could easily get anywhere. It makes me feel like my family, what we had between us, was just anything. Frankly, I can't believe it.

I feel like there was really nothing between my family and me. Not even with my sister and my parents, just a sad pity that camouflaged it. I never thought I'd discover this. Furthermore, the same frequency with which I see my parents is the same frequency with which I see the doctors I consider my parents. In fact, I trust the female one more, and she's the one who is open and concrete, a bit of a leader, just like my mother, and the male one is rude, drastic, but with a certain measure of restraint, and also authoritarian at times. I can't believe, I insist, that the same core group has formed as when I was at home, which for me was unstable and unstable, just as I experienced at the place where these doctors treated me. Furthermore, with the doctor I feel like my sister, equally distant, eccentric, lonely, and forced to do what she was doing to survive. I can't believe, I insist, that I've encountered the same core group of people.

What is my family then? A group of random people? What the heck did we have at home? Parents who propped up the situation as best they could, trying to get by without any success beyond support, and a sister who did whatever it took to look good with them and everyone else, while I was simply at the mercy of observation and finger-pointing. I insist, I can't believe the same modus operandi developed that existed at home; having, in other words, an emotional and rebellious inclination between my sister and me toward the world. I insist: What the hell did we have at home? Why did we have this at home? How could we have had such a simple, vague, and dysfunctional way of living together? Dysfunctional given that there was no review of the family's destiny despite the elements against it. What did we have at home? Simply, everyone pulling for themselves. The doctor I consider a father was distant from the case and didn't express it, like my mother. What did we have at home? It was everyone for themselves, after all, a sad attempt for each of us to survive. How could we have been so simple-minded? In this family, as a nucleus, there was no depth whatsoever. My parents, besides wanting to look good to those in authority, as always, and being clever at making one look bad, and acting as an inclusion.

Dear mummy,

words can't even begin to describe the kind of pain it is to be your daughter. I've known you my whole life yet I've completely failed to understand you and why you choose to be the way you are. I've failed to understand your refusal to take accountability for the problems you continue to create within our family.

I understand that you were born in a different time where abuse was a style of parenting, and where children were seen but not heard. I understand that you were raised to think that these sort of things were okay. but in your 50 years of living how have you failed to see that this behaviour you continue to do is exactly what's affecting your relationship with your children. A relationship you so desperately want yet refuse to fight for. I don't understand why you're afraid of your children leaving you when you're older, but you refuse to care and nourish them while they're still here with you. aren't you contradicting yourself mummy? why do you make it your life's mission to create division between the children in this family and the turn around and ask us to be united and love one another. are you not being a hypocrite mummy? why do you continue to coddle the boys in the family and forbid them from lifting a finger, and then turn around and blame us girls when they behave like selfish, inconsiderate bastards. Was it me who raised them mummy? I don't think you understand the kind of environment you created for us mummy.

I was raised in a house where I wasn't allowed to make mistakes. a place where my opinions didn't matter. a home where facts were void because you're the only one who could ever be right. I can't even count the amount of times where you made me feel so ashamed for existing in the body I do. If it wasn't my weight that was the issue, it was my gender, and if it wasn't that then it was the fact that I was unfortunate enough to look like my father. You quite literally raised me to hate myself! but on the few occasions you take an interest interest in what I have to say, you act surprised when I tell you that I don't really like the way I look. One time you actually had the audacity to ask me why I wasn't confident in myself like the other kids. I even specifically remember you asking me why we're not close, and why I don't tell you things. You expect me to behave like a child who was raised in a home where her voice mattered, a place where her questions weren't dismissed as disrespect. but honestly mummy your like a sculptor who never touched the clay but demands a masterpiece. And for that I will never forgive you, no matter how much I love you.

I used to believe you'd change, but time and time again you proved me wrong. I hope you know that all those times we argued and disagreed on what you were doing, I was trying to mend to our relationship. I hope you understand that all those times I was being a "disrespectful child" who "talked back to her elders", I was hoping you'd understand that I fought because I wanted a relationship with you. But now I understand that you are simply too proud to change. Too proud to even consider that maybe you went about motherhood the wrong way. But it's ok. Knowing this has honestly freed me. I'm no longer the girl who's filled with jealousy when I see my friends have fulfilling relationships with their mothers. I'm no longer the girl whose eyes fill with tears when I see someone on TV who reminds me of you. Because at least now I know where we stand.

Sincerely your daughter

I feel like I have to distance myself from everyone when it comes to family. They are all extremely unprincipled, unvalued, and unmotivated people, people with very low self-esteem who like to subjugate others through their own actions. My experience at my aunt's house and the way my father underestimated the situation were outrageous to me, excessively so.

Simply, that fact represented the necessary distance between my father and me. Honestly, I'm not with anyone who defends people like my mother and applauds her way of life with her mother, who in my aunt's case would be her comrade. It's the worst thing I've ever experienced. Differences are absolutely unacceptable there.

In fact, I feel that's why it was hard for me to stay strong at work. Today, with the Papa thing up in the air, I ignored it, and I felt that the indifference toward my indifference on the matter hurt me deeply. I felt the need to do like the others. The worst part of all this is that my father, that family, would support this.

It's like feeling miserable for breaking the trend, even though it goes against my principles. It makes me feel insulted and at the same time outraged that I was raised by my relatives, who didn't instill in me the strength to be different, which I denigrate because it's causing me problems in terms of distinguishing myself as I am in front of others, thus facilitating clarity for generating respect in a pleasant and unforced way. The idea isn't to fall into the trap of others breaking with it in one way or another.

All of them, these relatives I mention, are people who indeed appear friendly and supportive, but they come across that way in every context, which is frightening and deceptive. Although it must be acknowledged that their appearance is so obvious that to an outsider it would be like that, except for me, who didn't see it because I had normalized it. In fact, I didn't notice what they were yelling at me from miles away. In fact, I did nothing about their inconsistencies and lived by not speaking to them or pointing them out; my life together was one of being estranged because they exposed them without any remorse in front of me, which is disrespectful given that it's a game with my stability, which they further embrace thanks to the fact that they didn't point it out or justify it in any way, keeping me between a rock and a hard place when I committed them, which is indeed unfair. I feel abused within these people.

I don't like living with them. In fact, I have to live in isolation, since being with them implies intentional and frequent deterioration, while in isolation the situation is the opposite, and also with recovery, which with them is condemned. I had never acknowledged it until now that I've grown up, but these relatives make me fearful of their dramatic behavior as well as their constant denials of reality, thus creating an absorbing environment, and of course, one responsible for producing this normalization. They are the family that has also proven to be the difference between me and my mother's, and it was precisely because of this disappointment that I couldn't easily disengage from them, unlike with my mother, with whom I saw it coming.

For a very long time, it has resulted in an obsession with me not to discover the family characteristics—in truth, everything they pointed out in my mother's family, through detours and conditioning. However, they haven't realized that this game of counter-current on my part is lucrative and leads to the exact opposite result, something they apparently fail to understand despite numerous tests and which, of course, is my guarantee of success. There have been numerous attempts to eradicate me with thought tools such as ignoring the microphone, tearing at my writing, breaking away from influential thinkers, and even degrading well-known figures, but all have been in vain. I don't see them understanding that going against the grain and being effective is the best thing. Furthermore, if there were any attempt to avoid them markedly, it would only result in anxiety problems, and that's precisely what they don't want to encounter again because it would lead to an overflow of their routine, and living with me consisted of adapting to it.

I don't know how my coworkers experienced the fact that I wasn't with them at their father's event, but I still recognize that I felt obligated to consent to or pay attention to a religion when I am practically an atheist. This is an issue that is also imposing on said family. That is, they always tell me "God bless you" when I am not part of the religion, and which results in a lack of respect, mainly on the part of my father, who asks me to let him give it to me, only for the purpose of falling under the suggestion that, in that regard, for a very long time for a long time, my relationship with my father has consisted of pure attempts at suggestion. For a long time now, I haven't been able to share time with my father, only to seek food, some income, and to be the recipient of his attempts at suggestion, gradually leading him to become disillusioned. In fact, this has been the way he has come to act in a disorganized and obvious way toward these attempts. It's been almost three years like this, yet I still don't understand how he can't realize that his attempts are in vain; I suppose it's justified by the fact that it's because of the love I once had for my family, and because of which he took advantage of the opportunity to distort me. Ironically, individuals like those who cause complications for their families by coming into conflict with their moral compass happened, even though they were also a person I respected. Personally, the fact that I continue in this mood seems amusing to me up to this point, as the sadness is extremely high, no longer destabilizing to the point of prostrating me, but rather a game in favor of my firmness.

When will my father learn his lesson? When will my aunt learn her lesson? He tried to lecture me, but she, unwittingly, was the one falling into the game, precisely so that I could distance myself from her, since my goal is to distance myself from this family. They are obsessed with preventing my departure, when it has already happened, and now I am merely a spectator, oblivious to them, just like any other ordinary citizen who visualizes them. In short: I can't help but hide the sun with a finger from anyone in the world, then.

i dont get it. like fr why everyone in my family gotta be so mean to me all the time?? i aint even do nothin and still they act like im the worst person in the house. my mom always yellin, my dad dont even look at me half the time, and my brother’s just rude for no reason. i wake up and its already attitude from the second i walk in the kitchen. like, if i ask for something simple like if theres any cereal left, my mom's like “go look yourself” with that tone like she already mad at me for just breathing. why they always act like im the problm?? i swear i try to stay outta the way, i stay in my room most days just chillin or listenin to music but still when i come out its like instant drama.

i be helpin around the house too. i clean my room, i do the dishes even when its not my turn, nd still they find sumthin to complain about. if i put the spoon in the wrong drawer, its like the end of the world or somethin. my dad once told me “you cant do anything right” just cause i forgot to take out the trash one night. like fr?? ONE night. nd he talk to me like i failed at life or sumthin. my brother, don’t even get me started, he be callin me names every chance he gets. annoying, stupid, crybaby... nd my parents don’t say nothing. they just laugh like its funny. well it aint.

sometimes i think maybe i was adopted or somethin, like how else do u explain it? they all so close with each other. laughin at the table, goin out places without me, sharin inside jokes. nd im just... there. invisible. or worse, the target. i tried to ask my mom once, like, why yall always treat me like im the enemy? nd she said “stop makin everything about you.” like, bruh, i only asked cause im tired of feelin like trash in my own house. is that too much?? to want to feel loved in ur own damn family?

school aint much better but at least there, some ppl smile at me. even if they fake, at least they fake nice. at home, i get nothin. no hugs, no “how was ur day,” not even a “good night.” just silence or sarcasm. nd if i say anything back, they say im disrespectful. like sorry for having feelings i guess?? they make me feel like im a burdden. like they’d be better off without me there. nd sometimes, late at night, i start thinkin maybe they're right. maybe i am the problem and dont even kno it. maybe im just broken in some way that makes ppl not wanna be around me.

but then i remember, im just a kid. im only 15. i didnt ask to be here, i didnt choose this family. nd i shouldnt have to beg for basic kindness. im not askin for them to buy me stuff or give me everything i want. i just want respect. some love. someone to say “i see you” instead of makin me feel like a ghost. if i ever become a mom, i swear imma treat my kids like they matter. i wont let them go to bed feelin unloved like i do most nights. i want to break whatever this is, this cycle of meaness that they think is normal.

i dont even kno what to do anymore. talkin dont work, cryin dont help, stayin silent just makes them act like nothin’s wrong. maybe one day i’ll move out and things’ll change. maybe they’ll miss me when im gone. or maybe they wont. maybe they’ll just keep goin like i was never there. all i kno is, i can’t keep holdin all this in forever. it hurts too much. nd im tired of pretendin it dont. so if ur readin this n u ever felt the same way, like ur own family don't even like u... ur not alone. i feel it too. every day. every damn day.

I’m autistic and probs have chronic pain I asked my mum if I could get a walking stick so I could walk home by myself and she got rlly upset and mad at me for wanting to not be in pain byeee

I'm starting to kind of dislike my mom. Yeah, I love her with all of my heart, but after she broke up with her most recent boyfriend, shes been acting a whole lot different. I know she smokes weed and drinks beer and all, but its still unsettling. She's been a lot more infuriable, she makes me sleep in her bed to help her anxiety despite the anxiety she gives ME, she won't even interact with my dog without yelling at her, she barely interacts with me OR my brother, only talking to me when she needs me to get a drink for her. This morning, she woke up yelling at us, forcing me to wear clothes that hadn't even went in the DIRECTION of the dryer, almost forgot to give me life-affecting medicine, etc. Screaming about how we embarrassed her, were in her own words "addicted fucks"(simply for even BREATHING in the direction of a phone), etc.

She's also been venting to us a whole lot more instead of seeing a professional. My brother and I are in our early teens.

I dunno, am I the asshole for being uncomfortable with her?

I’ve been pressured to get a job. What are list of jobs that don’t require working as a cashier or with money? I’m 15 and never had a job and have anxiety working with money. Idk if it’s bc my brain stops working when I’m under pressure or I just learn slow.. and if there are some, will there be times have to be a cashier?

ok another vent about being trans yahoo.

my mom is like incredibly homophobic + transphobic + racist etc, but the thing is I love her to the moon and back, but at the same time I want to be able to medically transition. and at this point I just don't know anymore. Ive lived my life craving her approval, and I cant stand to see her disappointed in me. transitioning calls out to me, but so does my family.

growing up in a nudist family is like... i dont even know how to explain it without soundin weird. like, for my parents and my brother, its just normal. no big deal. they always told me stuff like "our bodies are natural" and "there’s nothin to be ashamed of" and all that. and when i was little, i guess it didnt feel weird. like, when ur a little kid, u dont really think about that stuff, u just do what your parents say is normal. we went to nudist beaches, nudist camps, even some nudist events and i never really questioned it. but now that im a teenager, like 16, it feels totally different. i hate it. not hate like i think my family is bad or anything, but hate like... i dont feel comfortable anymore. at all. and they just dont get it. every time i try to say somethin they act like im the weird one. like im bein brainwashed by "society" or whatever. but honestly, sometimes i just wanna wear clothes and not have to explain myself every five minutes.

its hard too cuz like, i feel so embarassed when my friends talk about stuff. they’ll be like "ugh imagine seeing your parents naked" and im just sittin there laughin along like "haha yeah that would be gross" when inside im screamin cuz like… yeah. ive seen it all. all my life. and i dont kno how to say it without people thinkin im a freak or sumthin. sometimes i even lie. i say stuff like "yeah we go to the beach sometimes" and leave out the part where it’s a nude beach. i just dont wanna be that girl who everybody whispers about. and its not like i hate my family. i love them. they’re good ppl. but they dont understand that just cuz they’re ok with it doesnt mean i have to be too. i wanna wear jeans and hoodies and be normal. i wanna go to a regular beach and not worry about runnin into someone from the "community" who wants to have deep talks about body freedom. maybe one day ill accept it more, maybe i’ll even be okay with it, but right now? i just wanna be a regular teenage girl who gets to keep her clothes on without feelin like shes betrayin her family. is that too much to ask? cuz sometimes it really feels like it is.

i don’t even know where to begin honestly. like i get that siblings are supposed to be annoying sometimes, but my sister? she takes it to a whole other level. every single day it’s like she wakes up with one mission: make my life miserable. she’s two years younger than me, but she acts like she owns the house. always barging into my room, touching my stuff without askin, and then playing the victim when i get mad. like no, Mia, you don’t get to wear my hoodie, spill soda on it, and then cry when i yell about it. she drives me crazy and somehow she’s always the one who gets away with it too. mom and dad are just like “she’s younger, be patient.” bro, i have been patient and i’m done now.

and it’s not just the little stuff either. she has this way of making everything a competition. like if i get a good grade, she suddenly needs to remind everyone that she got an A on her science project. if i make a joke at dinner and people laugh, she has to jump in and make one louder. it’s like she can’t stand me getting even five seconds of attention. nd when we fight (which is every day), she somehow twists it around to make it look like it’s my fault. i’ll be calmly explaining why she needs to stay out of my room and she’ll start yelling or crying and boom—i’m the “bad guy” again. i swear she has a talent for pushing every button i have.

i try to ignore her sometimes, like just put in my headphones and chill in my room. but even then she’ll find a way to be loud, play music from her phone in the hallway, or “accidentally” knock on my door five times for no reason. like girl, what do you even want?? she asks me dumb questions she could’ve just googled, or she’ll randomly start asking me who i’m texting just to annoy me. sometimes she literally sits outside my door and sings horrible on purpose. and then she laughs when i open the door mad. she lives for that reaction. it’s like she feeds off my frustration and it’s driving me up the wall.

but then, and this is the worst part, there are moments where she’s actually nice. like randomly she’ll bring me a snack or say something funny that actually makes me laugh. and for two seconds i’m like “ok maybe she’s not the worst.” but then she goes right back to being a menace. i don’t get how one person can flip personalities that fast. i try to be a good brother (sometimes), like i help her with homework when she asks and i walk her home from school when she misses the bus. but it’s like none of that matters because as soon as she’s bored again, i’m back to being her favorite target.

and you know what makes it even harder? my parents. they always say “you’re the older one, set the example.” like okay but why do i have to be the mature one all the time?? why can’t she be held accountable too? just because she’s younger doesn’t mean she gets a free pass to be annoying 24/7. sometimes i feel like they don’t even listen to my side of the story. they just assume i’m the one overreacting. nd i get it, she’s their baby or whatever, but it’s still not fair. she knows she can get away with anything if she cries or acts innocent, and she uses that. trust me.

i guess at the end of the day, i still care about her. like if someone messed with her at school, i’d probably defend her without even thinking. but when we’re at home? she’s my number one headache. maybe when we’re older we’ll get along better, but right now? she’s annoying, loud, nosy, and always in my business. and if she reads this—Mia, stop taking my hoodies and get out of my room. please. thanks.

Recently my mother got hospitalized for a serious medical condition she’s known about. She got injured in a car accident which caused the condition to flare up. She procrastinated going to get looked at and refused medical care for 6 weeks until her original condition began to cause serious issues. Now she’s back in the hospital, and I’m absolutely terrified for her. But I’m also extremely frustrated and upset with her. She waited so long to get looked at she’s going to miss a lot of important things to me, such as my high school graduation, ceremonies, and senior events. She’s missing my graduation over something to do with her own schooling (as she’s in college) and planned to have a class on the same day I graduate, knowing she wouldn’t be able to make it then. Because of her waiting to get looked at, my enlistment into the military is getting stalled, as I’m only 17 and can’t sign for myself. Both of my parents have been procrastinating this for months and now once I get them to go sign, she decides to finally get looked at and now I have to wait to sign, and some of you know how much of a problem that’ll cause me with it being summer time now. I am so worried about her but I feel so selfish for being upset at the same time. No matter what is going on, what event or who’s thing, it always ends up being about my mother, in some type of way, birthdays, Father’s Day, school events, literally anything becomes about her somehow because of either her achievements meaning more than any one else’s, or how her medical issues make her more important than anyone else’s (which she says frequently to me when I even mention a headache or being stressed). I just wanted one thing to be about me (graduating) and it won’t even be, it’ll be about her, which I get, but it still upsets me no matter what i tell myself. And even while me and my dad pushed to get her to go to the hospital, she wouldn’t go, and then for 3 days straight complained about her problems and kept being a giant pity party (talking about dying and 💀 herself and how dumb she is) but then refusing to go do anything about her issues.

All weekend long I was playing with my cousin's little ones. Their energy kind of energized me and I actually feel ready to face the world today. Playing with the kids, who are 2 and 4, let me be a little kid again and that felt great. They left to go back home this morning, but those little nuggets will always be in my heart <3. I'm not gonna let others get me down today, I'm actually in a really good mood. The depression that clouded my mind for so long is thinning out, and the sun in showing through the clouds. I think I'll be alright.

Am I the asshole for buying everyone ice cream?

my family seems to think I am.

my grandma's birthday is in a few days but she's been sick and bummed out, not to mention I'm working a lot and my mom has been bothering me about cleaning my room... so I gave my grandma her presents early. which she loved but I suppose it was my fault because this is where this issue starts...

my grandma didn't feel great and wanted me to take her to the store, I went and while she was shopping I got gas. she gave me $10 towards it which was nice. I would tell her to keep it but for people that understand out there ...doing that is more trouble than it's worth. normally I would sneak it back into her purse or a coat pocket so it's a surprise when she finds money around but she wanted to get ice cream so I decided to use some coupons and order it ahead since she wasn't feeling well. however you want to think of it.... I used the $10 either towards my gas or towards her gigantic sundae, I wasn't going to ask for any more money.

I decided to buy my mom and stepdad a little ice cream too, I know what they like... but when I got home they didn't say thank you. my mother called me fat and uncontrollable, especially noticing that their 2 sundaes were a medium instead of a large like mine and my grandma's. my stepdad said he didn't need it and when the time came later for a snack they openly grabbed chips. they do this often so I'm bothered by it but probably not as much as another person would be or I should be.

meanwhile... everyone had gotten a different ice cream. I could tell which one was which by size and toppings. my grandma had her ice cream in her freezer, before she went to bed (8pm) she said she didn't feel good and wasn't eating it tonight, not a problem. I left and around 9 when I went for my ice cream, eating past the toppings I chose for myself I noticed the ice cream place messed up, that ice cream wasn't my ice cream.. I assumed it was switched with my grandma's or they just gave me ice cream with nuts which I do not eat so I put the ice cream back in the freezer to figure out tomorrow when I got up and my grandma was awake so I could dig through her toppings to see if that was actually 'her ice cream' under there and if it really was a mistake then I would just scoop my ice cream out and switch.

I went to sleep. The next morning I got up and asked if she had eaten the ice cream, how she was feeling, etc..

"oh I was so sick last night. I got up in the middle of the night and had 'a little' ice cream blah blah.. why?"

"a little? oh ok good. I was wondering because I was trying to eat mine and when I got past my toppings on the one side I could see that wasn't my ice cream. I ordered everyone butter pecan with extra nuts.. I guess the girl was confused because I got butter pecan but with all my toppings on top"

"but you don't like nuts"

"yea I know. at first I thought maybe she mixed our ice cream up and I was going to check to see if you got my Oreo but since you had 'a little' how was it?"

"don't get me ice cream anymore"

?

"it tasted funny"

??? *walking to the freezer, prepared to get her ice cream to check but stops*

"it was probably my taste buds since I'm sick. yea, I ate the whole thing"

"... I thought you said you had 'a little'?"

"no I ate the whole thing"

"even though 'it tasted funny'?"

"well that was just my taste buds. I pushed through it"

"well.... I ...okaaay.. so.... what color was the ice cream?"

"it was ice cream"

"yes. what color? black? white? gray?"

"yea it was like black"

"that was my ice cream"

"you gave it to me!"

"yea because I thought it was yours. your toppings were on top. we both had different toppings so..."

"ok well then give me my ice cream"

...?

"the ice cream you still have. you didn't eat it right? the yellow butter pecan.. that was mine so give it to me."

"it has all my toppings on it.. you won't like that.."

"I'll pay you for it"

"no no it's ok"

I didn't take her money. I took off my toppings as best I could and gave her the ice cream. she complained to my mother about something because a while later my mother says something like "I can't believe you took her money, it's ice cream! her birthday is next week that could have been her present"

I didn't say anything and idk what was said by who but.... I got my grandmother at least $50 of stuff. sure she gave me $10 'for gas' but I'm paying for her Netflix and with her $10 Starbucks and the $12 ice cream for her... and that's just TODAY. I get people things all the time. PLUS I buy my mother's birthday cake and my grandma's cake every year....

I ignored what my mother and stepdad said again. I asked my grandma how the ice cream was, if it was better than the previous one. she said "it was ok. I still can't taste right but I know that there was no basically no toppings on it and the few things that were there weren't even what I liked. (name) you have to remember I like nuts. lots and lots of nuts, and caramel. this didn't have that"

"yea ..all the nuts and the caramel were on the first one you ate. this one I took the toppings off because I knew you wouldn't like it"

"yeaaa... that first one tasted funny. just don't get me ice cream anymore"

my mother walked by in that moment, overhearing, and decided to tell me that no one needed or wanted ice cream, and I should be more thoughtful since some people are lactose intolerant. my grandma and stepdad basically agreed saying they didn't ask for any of that.

so I guess I'm just some wicked witch pushing my evil lactose on people, talking about my topping agenda.

Apparently here is me and my mom, who fights for the smallest things ever. We just fought today in the clothing store because my style of fashion is way too different from hers.

I know what’s going to happen later on, she’s gonna yell at me, and tell me it’s my fault— but why? It’s not my fault that I like simple clothes, not those complex colorful designs that she tells me to wear

Right. She’s my guardian so she gets to decide who was wrong and who was right— I mean she’s always right

But how to I tell her that she was wrong this time? She’s mad for absolutely no reason