Family Drama Stories

My mom has NEVER been caring or even considerate towards others since I was little, even then, I believe I only remember her that way because most children under the age of 5 cling to their mother's hip.

My mother was a hardcore drug addict up until my little brother was born (I was 4) and she was forced into rehab so she could get treatment for the cancer they discovered in her thyroid during that pregnancy. My newborn brother and I lived with my nana during that time. When my mother returned, we moved. My mother has had a pattern of constant moving most of my life, up until the age of 9.

My mom after cancer treatment was different. She's never been the same since that, not that I can remember it well. My mom became aggressive towards me, often pinning blame on me, and constantly raising her voice, she switched to constant alcohol consumption in place of the drugs. My mom became a revolving door, men came in, and went out just as quickly, most of them, if not all of them, were losers as well. Slowly over the years she's stepped further and further away from me.

If we skip ahead to when I was about 11, my mother started seeing a new guy, another loser. Soon enough, she gets pregnant with my younger sister, and the guy my mom is with leaves in the blink of an eye.

In her 9 months of pregnancy, my mom got with two other men, both of them constantly staying in the home. The second of the two stuck around, he stuck around for 3 years, but that didn't make him any better than the rest. He was verbally abusive, to me, and my 7 year old brother. My mom didn't bat an eye, saying it was "plain discipline". We would get screamed at and spat at if we forgot to open the curtains during the day or missed a spot while sweeping. It only got worse.

I used to be ahead of everyone in my classes. I was smart, now I struggle to pass classes below my grade level. I was smart until my mom and her boyfriend made me stay home from school, sometimes for weeks at a time, so that they could go out all day, with no care about my newborn sister or I. I was 12 and I was the primary caregiver for a newborn baby. My resentment towards my mother didn't just grow during that time, it had multiplied by the minute. It reached it's peak at some unmemorable point in my life. I lashed out, getting physical with her and admitting my hatred flat out. I don't remember what happened after that, but it was only a mental decline from there.

I started to neglect my sister when she was in my care, not causing her harm, but letting her cry for a few minutes before trying to calm her. I would neglect my younger brother as well, often cussing at him and stepping on his stuffed animals. I would be reprimanded when my mom an her boyfriend got home, but at that point, I didn't care. I was already upset, a bit of yelling only made me cry, I grew used to it.

Me and my brother changed drastically in those few years until my mom eventually broke up with that boyfriend and kicked him out. My mom only broke up with him because he started to lash out at her. She still keeps him around though, making him pay to see my sister, who isn't even her biological father. It's sickening. She's had multiple boyfriends since then, most I can't remember.

As much as I hate to admit it, I find myself jealous of my younger sister, who is now 5 as I write this. I feel upset by her situation as well though, and my brothers. It is of my mothers accord that I have no father figure, she cheated on him 2 weeks before they were supposed to marry. She was 7 months pregnant with me at the time.

My younger brother, and sister especially, grew close to my mothers ex, both of them starting to grow close as he continued to pay for visitations. He tried to be there for me as well, and I admired him for that, though I never clicked with him. He changed, becoming caring and kind, a real dad to my siblings. My mom never changed.

When I was about 16, my mom kicked me out and I moved into a room in my nana's friend's house. I had to live off old peanut butter and bathroom tap water the entire time, until recent, when I got a cheap dive apartment.

Eventually, without warning, my mom cut her ex out of all our lives, including mine, replacing him with what she wanted me to accept as a father figure, a familiar face. The man my mom had cheated on my father with. Apparently the guy (who we'll call J) was divorcing his wife of 10 years, and got back with my mom, moving in with her and my siblings. It's cruel. I know my mom only cut he ex out of my siblings lives because she thinks J is going to be upset with her, and possibly leave her, for still having her ex around.

Now she's begging me to come home, saying J misses me. He left her when I was two. I don't know him.

My entire family, excluding my little sister, hates my mother. We all know what she is. She a self-centered, filthy excuse for a woman.

Recent examples to justify my personal distaste towards my mother include :

When I left mainstream school and got put into alternative school because of constant bullying and harassment. At the interview with the principal of the alternative school, my mom constantly spoke over him, making it hard for me to hear what he was saying. She turned the 20 minute interview into a 2 hour interview by not allowing me to speak, answering the principals question for me with incorrect answers, all while using her fake sweet and professional voice. She spent most of the time rambling on about how she was a cancer survivor, a single mom, and how she was going back to school for a social work degree. The principal had to reminder her multiple times that he was interviewing me, not her.

Another example is when I booked my own appointment at my GP's office to discuss my meds and get an up on my dose. My mom called me while I was leaving, wanting me to come over and babysit. She asked what I was doing, and when I told her I was leaving the GP's office because I just got my dose increased she snapped at me, saying I made her look like a bad mother and I need to tell her these things (I was living with my nana at the time by the way. I rarely spoke to my mom at the time unless she needed me to lend her money or babysit).

I feel upset when I see my sister because she's grown into a little version of my mother, and my mom's killing her. My mom blames everything but herself, saying my sister must have a genetic disorder. My mom feeds my sister to keep her quiet. My sister weighs over 100lbs at the age of 5, she has leg issues due to this, as well as respiratory and cardiological issues. She's slowly dying, and my mom fails to acknowledge that, too occupied with herself.

My mother angers me, and I need to express that. My mother ruined me.

Sorry in advance for my bad English

People often told me that they wished they had my parents because im allowed to do so much stuff but in reality, im not that happy with my family at all. If I were to make a top ten of things that make me happy, my family would be at the bottom.

Sure, they buy me stuff, are kind of supportive in my choices but I don’t feel safe or comfortable enough to be myself. I hide clothes I know they’ll judge me on, don’t show them the stuff I make or things I’m passionate about because i know they’ll laugh at me or judge me for it.

For example, I recently went to a concert and had a very beautiful outfit. I was too scared to show them so I didn’t until he got home from the concert and their reaction was just like expected. They told me it was lame, that I looked ridiculous while all I wore was a dress with some tights and a headband. I didn’t get it. I missed the fun I had at the concert and my friends and it instantly ruined my mood. I cried after that.

At school, I can be myself. I show my friends all I’m passionate about and I don’t feel pressured to hide things. My teachers are very nice, I tell them a lot too but when I get home, I want to go away again. I didn’t wish I lived another life, I just wished I had another family.

And please don’t tell me that they’re just trying.. that parents get tired too or get angry sometimes too because it’s not sometimes it’s everyday and it makes me tired and sad. I don’t remember a day where I felt genuinely happy to be home.

Sorry in advance for my bad English

People often told me that they wished they had my parents because im allowed to do so much stuff but in reality, im not that happy with my family at all. If I were to make a top ten of things that make me happy, my family would be at the bottom.

Sure, they buy me stuff, are kind of supportive in my choices but I don’t feel safe or comfortable enough to be myself. I hide clothes I know they’ll judge me on, don’t show them the stuff I make or things I’m passionate about because i know they’ll laugh at me or judge me for it.

For example, I recently went to a concert and had a very beautiful outfit. I was too scared to show them so I didn’t until he got home from the concert and their reaction was just like expected. They told me it was lame, that I looked ridiculous while all I wore was a dress with some tights and a headband. I didn’t get it. I missed the fun I had at the concert and my friends and it instantly ruined my mood. I cried after that.

At school, I can be myself. I show my friends all I’m passionate about and I don’t feel pressured to hide things. My teachers are very nice, I tell them a lot too but when I get home, I want to go away again. I didn’t wish I lived another life, I just wished I had another family.

And please don’t tell me that they’re just trying.. that parents get tired too or get angry sometimes too because it’s not sometimes it’s everyday and it makes me tired and sad. I don’t remember a day where I felt genuinely happy to be home.

Idk how to say it but trigger warning: suicide??? forgive me 😕. No category fits this so I just picked the closest. 4 years ago, I lost my sister due to her taking her own life, I remember the day very vividly. And at first, I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t cry a lot and when I did it felt fake. Everything was strange for the next few weeks, just walking past her room and seeing she wasn’t there in her room on her phone or doing whatever, not having her sitting besides me during car rides, not having her bothering me every day. Even with still having my parents and brother, it still felt like a huge, really big loss. Everything felt quiet and empty, the house, going out with my family. Nothing felt the same anymore, my parents were depressed and I guess I was too young to notice. I was angry at her for that, how she made my parents feel, what she did and how it affected all of us. Maybe my age at the time was what made me so numb, or maybe I just haven’t processed it. We moved out some months after what happened, my parents couldn’t bear living in that house anymore. I began going to therapy because my parents made me go, I didn’t like it and never wanted to go. It took me like 1-2 years to finally begin feeling sad with her absence. I cried and my anger at her vanished and instead a deep feeling of guilt and sadness began to take place. I thought of what I could’ve did that caused what happened. And that guilt inside me began turning into a deep hatred for myself because I felt and thought and really believed that its my fault that it happened. I hated myself because I think I was a bad brother to her and that I couldn’t see details or anything that would have let me know how she was feeling, or maybe I did see them, and just didn’t pay attention to them. The hate for myself made me want to die, it’s made me hurt myself. It really hurt and I feel stupid now for doing that, but back then it felt like I deserved it. Those 4 years later, im older now, even older than her, finally some beard began growing and some moustache too, I got a broader chest and I’m finally taller. Now I hallways have a serious/neutral face, not looking like the happy kid I was before. There’s a family portrait in the entrance of my house, including my sister in it. Whenever friends that I haven’t known before it happened see it and ask who’s that. I never have anything to say to that. If I say my sister, they’d ask where is she, if I say someone else they’d ask the same thing. I just ignore the question and hope they don’t pry further. Something similar is when people ask if I have siblings, I say 1, which is my brother, but it feels wrong not saying 2 anymore. My family is still affected deeply by what happened, its not the same anymore and never will. My mom feels like it was her fault that it happened, some people even blame her for it, but I don’t. She’s really one of the best moms anyone could have. I don’t know how bad or well my dad is doing, he’s more closed off and I feel bad for not really checking on him or my mom. Now I regret not taking therapy seriously, it was a really good opportunity my parents gave me, the therapist was so nice and I didn’t take the opportunity now leaving myself with these unhealthy feelings instead of probably moving on and maybe being better. I began dreaming of her, dreams where she was still alive, or that instead of her actually taking her own life it was just a failed attempt and that we got her help and everything turned out okay. Every time I woke up I would cry, begging to god and praying it would be reality. I look at her photos every now and then and damn, I see what a beautiful person I lost. I look at my hands and just can’t believe that these hands once held my sister. I just look at myself in the mirror and just wonder how different how life would be like if in my place, my sister would be here. She was smarter, she was a better person, she’d be in a better place Im in right now, living better than how I’m living right now, maybe these fights with my parents wouldn’t have happened, maybe they wouldn’t be so stressed. Maybe the room I have right now would look better if it was her room. Maybe if I died instead of her, my parents wouldn’t have felt so bad like they did with my sister, or if I just died or never have been born she’d still be alive. I still go to school that she was in, which me and my brother have also always been in. I see the teachers that also gave classes to her. One time a teacher recognised me as her brother and asked me how she was, with her not coming. To avoid being asked anything more, or having to be vulnerable, I said she’s okay and nothing more. It made me quiet and pensive the rest of the day. I don’t blame him, no one really knows apart from her close friends and mine. It’s hard to bottle up how I feel, I would say it can become physically tiring. I suppose it takes a toll on you, I couldn’t handle it one time. I just broke down at school, crying like a baby. I have friends that helped me through it, and the counsellor at school helped me too. She called a teacher that knew me and my siblings too really well. I was surprised at how nice she was because when I was a kid I thought she was mean. But I really have to thank her for that hour long talk I had with her. I remember seeing the expression on my parent’s faces later that day, they seemed worried about me. I almost went back to therapy but I refused for some stupid reason. I’m not sure why but it wasn’t really talked about later. Now, like really now, present day, nowadays, I feel differently from how I felt back then. I personally would say I’m better, I’ve finally gone abroad which was my dream since I was a kid, I’ve grown up now and I don’t have to lie about my age just say I’m at least 13+, I’ve met new people which are actually pretty cool, I started playing football (American football) and turns out I’m pretty sick at it, I’ve taken an interest in drawing and even though I suck im going somewhere and most importantly, I don’t want to die anymore. I still feel bad because of what happened and I still feel that guilt and I blame myself for what happened. Ive vented to people and that helped a lot. I’m a bit proud of myself for being able to take some steps to move on and live better. Just now I noticed how much I wrote 😬, I haven’t even seen other posts on this site so I don’t know if this one sticks out like a sore thumb but idc I vented and I really needed it. I don’t think lots of people will read all this, but if you do, hi!!!!!!!!! And thanks.

We'll refer to my parents as parent 1 and parent 2

I was raised Half Poor and half upper middle class. My parent divorced before I could remember so that never bothered me.

I was Raised with the first half of my adolescence with parent 1, Parent 1 was poor and had other kids, though I was spoiled and became rotten; often lashing out at people close to me, even traumatizing animals, and using suicide threats to get what I wanted. I got so bad to the point where Parent 1 threw me away at a police station for Parent 2 to take me instead.

Parent 2 was cold, insensitive, and upper middle class.

When I moved in with parent 2 I was filled with dread(maybe foreshadowing i suppose). for awhile things were bad with parent 2 as they where with most visits with parent 2, but then things got a little better, parent 2 started seeing parent 3 and seemed to be a little happier. At some point parent 2 promised they'd be a better parent, those words engrained into my memory. . .

Lies.

From then on things got worse and worse. Parent 2 with parent 3 had new offspring, and with each new offspring I was seen less and less. I became super neglected, with only punishments as reinforcement and the occasional gift, though the gifts for the new offspring where often more extravagant and meaningful, though even they where neglected; so you can probably imagine how little attention I got. At some point I actually became suicidal, often when in company of parent 2. Every time I raised a concern or tried talking to parent 2 I got shut down or yelled at. One time I was punched in the face for teasing. Parent 2 snapped my phone when calling the police. I felt trapped. For awhile I carved cuts into my skin to work up the courage to end it all. it goes on.

But now, I face an issue. I have not love in my heart for the Parents, infact love is alien to me. whether i forgot what it feels like or never felt it, I'm not sure. So how do I tell my parents I don't love them.

Human moment.

I came on here to vent about my parents... while I'm 15 they are in there 40s... I feel like their therapist... they are having trouble in their relationship and I'm the only child left in the house while my 2 older brothers have moved out now we find out we've most likely been hacked for years and my dad getting a stalker and I'm stuck in between it and I hate that whenever I get upset I have to get shouted at! like we had to get a new Wi-Fi router because of hackers and stuff I mentioned earlier and my dad resets it so I cant even message my friends and it happens everyday for 10-30minutes maybe even longer I hate being stuck in between there relationship issues. they don't realise they make me feel suicidal. I cant handle it anymore I just want them to go back to normal and my mom being jealous of my dads stalker because they suspect its his ex from 13 years ago

So, here's the deal. I'm 16, and I've got this father who just doesn't get it. He's like this invisible anchor, dragging me down. You know that feeling when you study hard for an exam or practice for hours on the field, and all you want is a simple "good job"? Yeah, that's never happening; not in my house. It's almost like a game for him. Whenever I ace a test or make a fantastic play during a game, he's right there, telling me how I could have done better. Like, "You got 98%? Where's the other 2%?" or "Great goal, but you almost missed it." I mean, come on, does he ever just chill? 🏆

I try to stay positive, keep my head up and all that, but man, it's like he's constantly moving the goalpost. It's like no matter how fast you swim, the other side of the pool just keeps getting farther away. I feel like I'm living in this hyper-competitive video game where the other player is unbeatable because they control the settings. "You can always do better, son," is practically his motto, but where does it end? Ever tried telling someone how you feel, only to have them twist it around until you're the bad guy? That's my dad. It's a psychological basic that unmet validation can lead to self-doubt, and oh boy, do I have a PhD in self-doubt. But does he acknowledge it, even when there are studies backing it up? Like I’m the one with the emotional IQ problem here.

But, you know what? I refuse to play his game forever. I've read tons of stories about people who’ve risen above similar situations. Mind over matter, right? I’ve started keeping a journal where I jot down my accomplishments, the things that I’m proud of; and—believe it or not—it actually helps. It's this odd sort of mental hack, I suppose. Almost like I'm training myself to be resilient, you know? Some say, "This too shall pass," and I’m beginning to believe it. Have you ever felt that little spark of hope that insists things will change? It's like having a secret weapon, and maybe, just maybe, that’s enough to push through. So, tell me, have you ever felt trapped in a cycle that's beyond your control? How'd you break free? Because I’m all ears for stories of hope and resilience.

Because of my mom’s boyfriend I might sort of be forced to Canada. I’m 16 now. Because of everything going on it’s made me feel dissociated, anxious, more depressed, and I’ve been getting horrible thoughts again.

My mom’s boyfriend has consumed her life. At first in my other story I thought she was getting lost in the idea of love which I still believe but she also recently told me the abuse and how she’s afraid for her life and our (me and my grandmas) if she leaves.

He has threatened to send people to my home, threatened to hurt my mom, and I heard from my grandma that he held my mom and I think raped her while she was menstruating. Because of the threats and the way it seems that my mom isn’t really making an effort to leave him since today I found out she had gotten a freshly new tattoo of his name, Luis Garcia, on the middle of her chest in big bold letters. But besides that because of everything, my grandma wants to take me out to Canada with her but they’re gonna close the borders once I’m over there (it’s what she said) and I’d have to be over there for a few months but if that were to happen that means I’d lose my therapy since if I don’t show up for months or I don’t show up to a lot of schedule appointments they’re gonna pull me out of therapy and I’d have to get a new therapist all over again. This is my 3rd therapist.

I have an option to live with my aunt but I don’t think it would be possible because a lot of responsibility is being put onto my aunt like keeping care of all of my grandmas plants and animals while my grandma is in Canada.. and I don’t want to be a burden but I’m so tired of holding of everything in and if I lose my therapist I won’t have anyone because this family is full of “you don’t need therapy”, “you’re not depressed”, “you don’t have an anxiety disorder, you need a brain scan to tell that”, etc.

If I go to Canada I’ll have no therapy and I’ll lose my therapy because they’ll send the discharge papers, most likely no privacy and I’d be forced to sleep with my grandma and I’d probably be living with my uncles wife that doesn’t speak English and her daughter is extremely clingy and would probably beg me to play with her which I really don’t want because I enjoy my privacy and I enjoy my alone time like I’m sure plenty of others do, I’m not close with my uncle and I’d be embarrassing if I have to ask him to buy me pads since he’d be the only one working (I think?).

And I don’t even have much time to think of any of this because 1 - I was already told to start packing up. 2 - My uncle is gonna come soon before the borders close so I HAVE to go IF my dad signs the consent form for me to leave Rochester and to Canada (my mom and dad have part custody).

I don’t know what to do, I’m overwhelmed and I feel like I have no choice in any of this. It’s like they expect me to be strong but I’m only 16, FRESHLY 16. I haven’t been 16 for over a month yet. I’m so tired of feeling alone because I know how much language barriers there’s gonna be with everyone speaking Spanish and I have selective mutism (I’m Puerto Rican and I do understand Spanish but to a certain extent since no one really taught me Spanish or spoke Spanish to me). If I lose therapy I’m gonna lose all the help I have.

Are my feelings valid? When I hesitate to give to my husband’s family. They’re not well-off, but they’re managing. We already have our own family, and his salary is small and barely enough. We still give to his family from time to time, and I agree to it, but sometimes it becomes too much.

We always argue because he always wants to help his family. I don’t really have a problem with that — it’s just that his salary is small, and we also have a baby who still needs milk. But his mom and dad sometimes ask us for money, even for things like his sibling’s school allowance.

We give when we can, so it’s not like I’m being selfish. I just don’t like it when it becomes excessive, because we’re not rich either. We argue because he thinks I’m being selfish toward his family, but of course, I’m also thinking about the fact that he already has a family of his own now — us.

And when I cry during our fights, he tells me, ‘You act like you’re the one being mistreated.’ I just want to express my emotions because I’m not used to us having serious fights.

Are my feelings valid?

I used to think my mom was okay—nothing special, but not terrible either. That changed fast when I hit around thirteen. It was like she flipped a switch and suddenly decided that everything I did or said needed to be criticized. She turned into this controlling, bitter, passive-aggressive woman who always needed to be right. I couldn’t even express myself without her jumping down my throat. One time, I came home excited about getting a role in a school play—my first real chance to be noticed—and she straight-up asked, “Do you think anyone even wants to watch you?” Like… what?? That stung. She’d always nitpick my clothes, my friends, even my laugh. She’d make fun of how I talked when I tried using bigger words, and if I ever cried or pushed back, she’d go on and on about how I was “too sensitive” or “just like my father,” like that was the worst insult ever. Her words were weapons. And I didn’t have armor yet.

Teen years were hell. I was grounded constantly, mostly for talking back, which was really just me standing up for myself. She hated that. She didn’t want a daughter; she wanted a doll she could pose and mute. I remember this one time—I was fifteen—she told me I looked like a slut because I wore shorts and a tank top. We were at home. Just us. Who was I dressing for? The furniture?!?? I still think about that. It made me hate my body. Made me scared of showing skin. And don't get me started on the times she’d snoop through my phone or read my journal and then bring up things I’d written like it was casual dinner conversation. “So, you think I’m a narcissist?” she once asked, sipping her coffee. What was I supposed to say to that?!?? I couldn’t breathe around her. I couldn’t exist without judgment. She twisted love into something sharp. Something I didn’t want anymore.

But now I’m 21, and I’ve started seeing her not just as my mom but as a person. Flawed. Maybe broken. Maybe stuck in her own unresolved trauma. Doesn’t mean I forgive everything, but it makes it a little easier to not carry all that hate around. I still don’t trust her—I keep my distance, emotionally at least. But I want to heal. I want to stop being angry all the time. I want to be better than what she gave me. I have friends who’ve become my family. I’ve started therapy. I’m learning how to love myself without her voice in my head. Still… I ask myself: why do I hate my mom? Is it because she failed me, or because I needed her to be someone she couldn’t be? Maybe both; Maybe you’ve felt that too. Maybe you’re reading this wondering if you’re the only one—trust me, you’re not. It sucks. It hurts. But it gets better. It can get better.

This is hard because she is sitting right next to me right in my personal space. Here it is, I am a 50 year old woman who can’t be herself. Ever since I was a child, my mother and I did not get along. It wasn’t that I was being a brat, it is because I’m different. I am intelligent and gifted.

I was able to read college books and understand the concept of the lessons at age 3. I grew up on welfare and knew what that meant at age 5. My mom is uneducated high school dropout who was knocked up at 17. I am the youngest of two brothers from another father. I understood that they were half related to me at age 5.

My mom aborted the child before me and then was going to have me aborted but my great Uncle who adores children stepped in. So, here I am. I’m alive and breathing. Not sure what she did while I was developing in her womb, I do have many health issues. Physical health problems.

As a teenager, I tried running away from her. She had married some rich guy that continued to hurt me. My word meant nothing to her. I was always threatened to come back home by my half brothers, other aunts and uncles, and grand parents. They began to deem me worthless little turd. I have the label of being a drug user, alcoholic, and etc. the worthless no good disrespecting turd. Funny, I’m totally against drugs and alcohol.

In my 20s I tried being on my own. I snuck off to college. Bought a tiny home. Bought a car. Moved far away from all my family. Held down 3 jobs. One of those jobs was my core career for after college. Had some good friends. This only lasted for a few years.

Sadly, my brothers somehow found me (this was before social media taken off). I was dragged home and scolded for abandoning my sad poor mother. How dare I leave her! I worried her sick! I’m such a bad disrespectful disappointment child!

They sold my home. My mom took the money of the sell. They took my car. They gave it to my mom so that she can get back and forth to her work. They threw my belongings away. No joke! My brothers along with several other family members did this.

Now, at age 26. My mother divorced from that pervert and living in her dead parents house. My Aunts who helped my mom hunt me down are now kicking her out of my dead grandparents home. At first it was comical. I have a bachelor degree in English Literature. I’m aimed at finishing college. Screw all their drama. I took off to the dorm living nearby. I had my way paved.

Sadly, my mother followed. She ended up in my dorm room. She did drugs. She drank. With 20 year old college kids! A “oh woes me” 50 year old drinking and doing drugs with my peers! Disgusting! I was so appalled and embarrassed. I left and got an apartment with roommates. She came by every single night! My whole family threatened me to let her move into my shared apartment. This place wasn’t even in my name! The lease was in my roommates name!

So, my roommates moved the heck out because they wanted their space and yep, she got her way and moved right in. I ended up getting r@ped. I didn’t have that roommate protection. My mom in the bigger bedroom watching some stupid movie as I thrashed around screaming. My neighbor heard the noise and was concerned for my well being. 6 weeks later and ashamed, I go to the hospital for female problems.

I got pregnant. My r@pist on the loose and my mother - unhinged! She tried to commit suicide because I was pregnant. Then she tried to talk me into aborting this baby. Something I was totally against! She had my r@pist come over and take me to a clinic.

I never did get that abortion. I used my health problems as an accuse to get the procedure. I went through the pregnancy and had a beautiful baby girl. She hated me for it. I finished college with a bachelor’s degree not only in English Literature but also landscape and interior design. I moved away and bought a trailer in what I thought was a safe community. My mom broke her foot at her workplace. She needed a car and rides to her medical appointments.

She lost the apartment and had to move in. Again, she messed up my life. I was without her for 3 years and here I come home from work and family is just moving her into my small trailer!

I lost my career. Almost lost my daughter to CPS. Lost my car. Can’t keep a boyfriend. I have no friends. No job. No car. My trailer is now a dump. And it’s 20 whole years in this ghetto place! She had a stroke last year. No family around anymore. They all died or moved far away. I’m stuck with this monster. I have tried everything.

I’m tired. She sits right here, getting all nosy on who I’m writing. Asking questions and into all my business. I can’t even breathe without her asking why. Just a few months ago she told me that she wished I was a boy rather than a girl because she thinks boys are stronger and smarter.

I just want to yeet myself for existing. My daughter is brilliant. She can leave. She has left. She has the life I can’t have and I’m so grateful for that. I didn’t want to be like my monster who micro manages my every thought, my every move. My daughter is free to be herself. That is real love.

I’m secretly trying to sell my trailer. I’m secretly trying to run again…

I may end up 6 feet under if I can’t leave. I just want to erase me from her.

I came out as trans 2 weeks ago and my mom is being "supportive" by buying a binder, that I paid for, and calling me my pronouns, when she feels like it. She thinks we have to have a reason for BEING trans or nonbinary or anything like that. She truly doesn't realize it's not a choice it's just ourselves. She broke down crying during a fight we had about her being like this then she forcibly hugged me for 20 minutes while I tried to get away and doesn't understand why I don't want to hug her anymore. She isn't understanding the whole, love your child unconditionally thing and truly thinks I can just forget about the trauma this woman has given me. So should I go no contact when I turn 18 and can go to college or try and amend things with her?

Right, so I'm from Northern England, and in the area where I'm from we drop our t's. A lot. And we all have quite broad accents.

I've always loved my accent, and thought it was a fun accent.

Now, my dad is from a city a bit away where they do have a Northern accent, but they dont drop their t's, he also went to speech therapy as a kid and because of this speaks a but more poshly than your average Northerner.

He always teases me about how I say 'letter' or 'butter' and all that, and I didn't mind. I just thought his jokes were funny.

But recently, he's started to become annoyed at my accent. It's not gotten worse or anything, it's the same as usual.

We had a minor argument where he said my accent made him sad and annoyed.

I thought he was joking, but he wasn't.

He started going on to me about how he wished I 'spoke properly' and that it'll be harder in life if I keep my accent. At how he wished I spoke like him, and how sad my accent made him.

But I can't bloody change my accent, in my opinion, it's part of my identity, its part of me. It felt like he was asking me to change my eye colour, change my body type.

I told him that I couldn't really change it, and he told me I should try.

And now, I just feel ashamed. I feel guilty for having my accent, and for the first time, I dont love my voice anymore.

I hate my accent now, and I can't even change it.

Really I just want to know if my dad is in the right here. Do I really need to change my accent, is it not acceptable?

My dad has been struggling through some mental health issues for a while and we have been doing our best to support him (my mother and my siblings ). However my younger sibling caught my dad cheating yesterday night as he was calling and texting with another lady. My parents have been married for around 30 years. I feel like throwing up. My dad isn’t a bad father, we always looked up to him because of his strong personality but none of us can even look at him now anymore. He keeps apologizing and keeps saying that he did it because of his mental health issues but what kind of an excuse is that? He broke all of our trust, we never expected this from him. How does one even cope with this? All we have been doing is crying and feeling numb the entire day. I feel so bad for my mom, we can’t even leave as we are financially dependent on him.

What a nice father’s day I guess.

So today was the day before my science exam, and I wasn’t ready at all. I did a mock test and apparently after I got out of shower, my mother didn’t look so glad. She had that look of disgust in her eyes— trouble.

She scolded me for getting 50% on my mock exam, it wasn’t even the real exam anyway :/, and guess what? She told me to die— like what type of parent does that? The exact line was “you’re lucky this is just a mock test, if it was real, then I would’ve killed you already” or smt I can’t really recall it;;

On the other day, she even got the house keys out and like— made me scared if? I forgot the word for it but i guess whoever is reading this gets it :(

I’ve been venting on my bed for the past few years, it started in 2023 when she grabbed my collar for going for a walk, and since then I would frequently write stuff on my bed— it’s double decked;; like in the corner that only shadows exist— hey my address is ********* you wanna see what I wrote? Nah jk… I’m lucky I grew up this bright right…