Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

There I was, part of my dear friend Julie's bridal party. Julie has always had a bit of a tough time with money, but despite this, she's in the midst of planning her dream wedding.

Initially, she requested that we, the bridesmaids, cover the cost of our dresses. We agreed without hesitation. However, the financial asks didn't stop there; next was the bouquets. Eager to assist, I didn’t object until I learned they would cost a whopping $130 each! It turned out that Julie had her heart set on the most lavish bouquets available. I even proposed putting together the bouquets myself to cut costs, but she was adamant about getting the ones she had selected.

Among the bridesmaids, I'm the youngest, just stepping into my 20s, and perhaps because of this, I felt the financial pinch more sharply. Although a few others also seemed displeased with the escalating costs, I was the lone voice that addressed our concerns with Julie. I approached her gently, explaining my financial constraints and questioning the rationale behind spending so much on flowers that would only last the day.

To my dismay, my input wasn’t received well. Julie decided to exclude me from the bridal party altogether, relegating me to just the “after party” guest list before eventually withdrawing that invitation too. Now, I'm left bewildered by the turn of events, questioning if I was unreasonable.

Imagine if this scenario unfolded on a reality TV show! The cameras would zoom in on the dramatic split between once-close friends over wedding expenses, capturing every heated exchange and tearful confession. Viewers would likely be split, some sympathizing with my financial caution and others siding with the bride’s vision for her special day. Reality TV thrives on such conflict, and this situation could easily be a pivotal episode, sparking debates and discussions across social media platforms.

I'm left wondering, was I really being unreasonable, or just mindful of my own financial limits?

Sorry but she looks like a bridezilla here...

Being married to someone with ADHD is a bit like managing a never-ending whirlwind... 🤯 I'm a 39-year-old male, and let me tell you, the struggle is real! Balancing a marriage where spontaneity and disorganization reign supreme sometimes feels like a Herculean task. Words like "executive dysfunction" and "time blindness" have become part of my daily vocabulary. My vows did not include being an impromptu project manager, yet here I am, juggling schedules, managing chaos, and frequently playing the diplomat in our otherwise harmonious union.

One day blends into another, all marked by last-minute schedule changes and unexpected curveballs. I've read countless articles, promising that understanding is the key, "knowledge reduces frustration." While I do make an effort to empathize and educate myself, there are days when the constant unpredictability becomes overwhelming. Who knew that even planning a simple dinner could devolve into a logistical nightmare? 🍛 As much as I love spontaneity in small doses, I am not exactly a fan of daily surprises that involve lost keys, missed appointments, or urgent late-night runs to the store because we ran out of toothpaste (again).

Despite it all, I commend my spouse for their efforts to work with their ADHD and seek help where needed. Together, we have implemented what I like to refer to as "behavioral scaffolding”—strategies meant to curb chaos, such as color-coded calendars, digital reminders, and whispered daily affirmations of patience. On most days, these measures improve both our lives, but on others, they feel like mere Band-Aids, barely holding back the floodwaters. Have you ever heard the saying, "the straw that broke the camel's back"? Well, it feels like I'm constantly searching for new ways to reinforce the camel.

In the end, I don't want anyone to think it's all bad. We have our moments of brilliant clarity and profound connection. Thanks to ADHD, love is never boring! However, dealing with it requires understanding, patience, and, dare I say, a touch of humor. 😂 It is important to remember that what we deal with is not our significant other's personality, but a condition they did not wish for. Would you agree that the spontaneity, only manageable with communication, sometimes also breathes life into mundane routines? Nonetheless, I hope sharing this has lifted some weight off my chest. If you're sailing a similar boat, remember: you're not alone. Stay strong, stay patient, and find joy in small victories.

I've always been the kind of person who can do well academically, especially when the lecturer is kind to me. but this semester, there's a lecturer who keeps having issues with me. I completed my assignment and everything, but she deducted marks just because I didn’t show her my progress.hat day, I had to go to the hospital for a therapy appointment. when we got our marks today, most of my classmates got 27 or 28 out of 30, while I only got 22. I was so frustrated and I couldn’t hold myself back from hurting myself.

Whenever I get depressed I want to cry but if I do I find myself wanting to drown in my tears all my life I've told to stop crying and toughen up. Is this fair to you? I can't help that I'm sensitive. I once didn't smile for a little while and I went pale to my friends bc I always would smile and be happy but how am I supposed to be when everything is after me

I’ve been a part of my local football club for years now, and it’s all just falling apart. I mean, can you believe it? What happened to the brotherhood, the camaraderie? Last weekend we played our biggest rival, and I was hyped, like super hyped, to give it my all on the pitch. You know that electric feeling when you’re getting ready to face your enemy? But when we got to the field, I just felt... invisible. It was like everyone else already had their little cliques. They were all high-fiving and laughing, and there I was, standing in the back, waiting for my moment to shine but instead looking like a fool. Especially when I tripped over the ball during practice and everyone's laughs echoed in my ears. Like, seriously, how do you mess that up? Why can’t I just be normal?

Then comes the game, and I’m praying for even a little recognition. As the clock ticked down, I finally got a chance to sub in. But instead of feeling pumped, my heart sank when I noticed a few teammates rolling their eyes as I jogged onto the field. It was hard to ignore the whispers. “Oh great, here comes the loser,” I imagined them thinking. Do you ever just feel like everyone’s against you, even though you’re all on the same team? I tried to shake it off and just hustle, but I could see the frustration on our captain’s face as I missed a wide-open pass. After the game, I didn’t even get a pat on the back – more like a few grumbles. I know I’m not the best player, but come on, who likes being a punching bag for everyone’s bad day? I can’t help but wonder, is the problem me? Do I just not fit in? I’m really starting to think no one likes me. Am I just overthinking, or do you guys feel this too sometimes?

I feel right now that nothing about outside people holds any meaning for me, only my actions have meaning. I feel that what my father does no longer matters, nor the doctors who treated me, nor anything like that. I only seek to act meaningfully in accordance with my actions, not what others give them. I don't even care if they're in sync or not, beyond the agreements we make.

I feel like right now I don't care about anything or anyone, given that everyone's life is everyone's own life, and I can't do more than that. I'm not even interested in getting to know them in depth, at least those around me, since that's an activity they haven't delved into. I feel like I'm with people who have a vague interest in exploring themselves. Recently, my father was strangely reminiscing about one of my books, one of the things I like to read, saying he was going to give me this or that, spontaneously. I've always had the feeling that he was trying to keep me from reading those things.

For some time now, and I think this is why I'm like this, I feel like my father has wanted to attack my psychoanalytic readings. He's like my mother. This family doesn't want anything to be revealed under any circumstances. To the point that they resort to desperate measures. I hope that if I tell this to the psychiatrist, she'll at least let me finish the conversation instead of focusing on what is this and what is that, in depth; I can now understand a girl I knew who just wanted their conversations to flow; people interrupted her a lot. My family isn't interested in being discovered, neither on my father's side nor on my mother's side, under any circumstances. They want everything buried, and that seems irresponsible to me. To go so far as to attack Sigmund Freud? To attack Lacan as well? I think it's already reaching unhealthy extremes.

In fact, I feel that my father, being a doctor, is no longer seeing the limits of reality. Yesterday, she thanked me for reading her messages. She's reaching extreme levels of discernment, something I don't like; in fact, it horrifies me. My family is focused on re-educating me at all costs, on burden after burden after burden. They've become a group of people who are out of their depth. They simply think about our union without any measure. I see them as distrustful people; in fact, I've gone so far as to describe them as not acting normally. Their desire to be in control is excessive, as if something were about to break them permanently. And I understand because it was clear, and even I saw it that way, that I was going to stay with them permanently, serving them, and that didn't turn out to be the case.

I've been observing for some time now that I'm breaking their patterns of reality. That is, they no longer see me as how they used to see me, and they don't see that, and that's why they're always giving in, giving in, without realizing it, exhausted and without any reasoning. They're not well. It seems my behavior has gotten out of their hands, especially my father's. Since my change, the family isn't functioning as normally as usual, to the point where even family members are betraying each other. It's as if they can't process the weaknesses within their structure that I've been able to see. I insist, they haven't been well in their heads for a long time. In fact, they're not reasoning to the point where they judge how I speak, with the tone being what bothers them. In short, I've shattered the family structure, and they've made their lives hell, as if they no longer had a basis for life, simply giving rise to these behaviors.

All of them, I'm observing, now feel like they're without a family because there's no solid structure. It's always been this way, but now they're showing it. In fact, the simple fact that I've changed, from being the easiest to seduce to now the impossible, has completely changed their lifestyles. None of their manipulative strategies are working. It's as if they now feel the world has the opportunity to eat away at them, and they're taking advantage of it. They feel beyond their power and facing the worst of things: others supporting me because, of course, the outside now has power over them thanks to me, just as it always wanted, given that they always trampled on their surroundings.

I feel like everything has turned upside down for my family. They never thought I would rebel and succeed. I fell many times, and from those times they swore I wouldn't succeed, but they didn't count the constant attempts, and also that I wasn't looking for something immediate but gradual and this time effective, something not present in the other cases. None of their conditioning, nor can I believe it, has any effect on me now. They feel, I experience, that they have lost a family member even though they have them right in front of them, and they can't tolerate the feeling, and that their presence contradicts my own; that combination is too harsh for them, somewhat for which I wasn't prepared, and which is the cause of their instability.

Furthermore, the following happens: How could I emerge triumphant from the treatment as usual if there was no support whatsoever from others in terms of the groundwork for maintenance, for stability? In theory, for them, everything should have been in favor, finally, of producing the extreme fatigue necessary for suggestion, but it's not possible. This is something that simply doesn't add up for them; it's as if they also feel that something in them was born different from them, that they developed differently, as if they weren't a member of the family, having been the fruit of a procreation in which their blood participated. Everything is out of whack for them, which is gratifying because it implies that their tools of family inclusion, which worked for me, no longer work for others, and consequently their dominance, even if sporadic, is weak and of no inspiration to the members trapped there. The family is therefore dismantled on my part, and it's the way for others to dismantle it. It's as if their own actions of uniting the family actually lead to the opposite, to the same thing they said, even as a child, would happen with the acts of suggestion they performed, swearing that things were different on the outside, but that turned out not to be the case.

so now I am telling you guys the next part... so I have a best friends that I love so much right well.. we were soo good friend before the issues it was the 6 grade she meets two girls name kimbery and jasmine right well day or week goes by and kimbery leave fanny and jasmine and the thing is fanny treats me like shit.. she mades me like I should die I cant hold it she doesn't like me anymore and she does back to bring friends with Kimberly and there the thing Kim talk shit about her I told fanny do not go back to her because she is a bithc who is dating all of her ex and she said so is my life I chounted stop her..so I just let her to that and she said Kim is fake that she is annyroing and shit like bro I didn't do anything I feel lost and I am not tryna cry but she pick her over me she like a ghost to me.

I never thought I’d be the guy who had it all together. And to be honest, I still don’t feel like I do. But when I look at my life—my wife, my kids, our home—I know I’m lucky. I have a good job, a healthy family, and a reason to wake up every morning. I remember being younger, picturing what adulthood would look like, and this was it. The stability, the love, the feeling of coming home to people who actually want to see you at the end of the day. Life is good. But at the same time, there’s this nagging thought in the back of my mind that I can’t shake: it can be better.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not unhappy. It’s not like I want to run away from my responsibilities or trade any of this for something else. But sometimes, I feel like I’m just going through the motions. Work, bills, fixing things around the house, making sure the kids have everything they need. Then it’s bedtime, a few hours of quiet, and we do it all over again. And I love my family more than anything, but I miss something I can’t even put into words. Maybe it’s freedom, maybe it’s excitement, maybe it’s just the feeling of being more than just a dad and a husband.

I see other guys chasing their dreams—starting businesses, traveling, picking up new hobbies—and I wonder if I’m supposed to be doing that too. Should I be pushing myself harder? Should I be taking risks instead of playing it safe all the time? There was a time when I had big ideas, when I wanted more than just a comfortable life. But now? I’m not even sure what more looks like anymore. And the weird thing is, I feel guilty for even thinking about it. Like, shouldn’t I just be grateful for what I have? Shouldn’t this be enough?

Maybe part of the problem is that I don’t really take time for myself. I’m always in “dad mode” or “work mode,” and when I do get a second to breathe, I don’t even know what to do with it. I used to love playing guitar, used to spend hours drawing, used to actually read books instead of just scrolling through my phone. But somewhere along the way, those things stopped feeling important. Now, if I do anything that isn’t productive, I feel like I’m wasting time. And there’s always something else that needs to get done.

But I don’t want to wake up one day and realize I let myself disappear. I don’t want to be that guy who only existed for his family and forgot how to be his own person too. My kids are gonna grow up. They’re gonna have their own lives, their own problems, their own dreams. And when that happens, who will I be? Just some guy who works and pays bills? That thought scares me more than I like to admit.

So yeah, life is good, but it can be better. Not because I want more money or a bigger house or some crazy adventure. But because I want to feel alive in my own life, not just present in everyone else’s. I don’t know exactly what that looks like yet, but I know it starts with me. And maybe that’s enough for now.

Heyo, so before you dive into this story I'm letting you know that my older sister is diagnosed as severely depressed and also manipulative towards me (She was 17 years old while I was 13 years old) and I dont even know how or even why she wants me to follow her to do it but past trauma caused me to do so. (I live in southeast asia if you're a bit confused with the word senior highschool)

So what i was about to talk about is how we got almost arrested while I was in highschool on the other hand she's at senior highschool, During our semester break she asked me if I wanted to go shopping with her (which isn't the exact reason actually) I of course agreed to go because I wasn't able to leave home anytime I want, We rode a tricycle on our way there and I noticed she has a big bag with her but I shrugged it off.

After me and her entered the grocery shop, I didn't notice she started to steal things from the shelf and putting it inside her big bag, I thought we were just gonna buy things instead of putting items in a bag (I was really oblivious to her actions back then) , when me and her arrived at the entrance the guard asked to check her bag and my sister told me she forgot her phone at a shelf, I followed after her not knowing what's happening since I haven't known what my sister had done and the next thing I knew is that me and my sister got grabbed by a guard to get interrogated after that our mom got called over to pay and pick us up. When we arrived back home I was immediately scared of facing my parents since me and my sister did a crime and they didn't know that was gonna be the outcome of our shopping. I always knew my dad as someone really strict and a bit abusive, so I needed to avoid him so bad because I would cry immediately the moment I see him being mad at me. My sister went straight to our shared bedroom, acting mad or normal after putting the family in debt.

Was that supposed to lecture me to not steal or to just inflict more pain by giving me trauma?? I want to see other people's perspective about my story

it seems that most people don’t understand the silent struggles many face, particularly when it comes to mental health. for some, panic attacks occur without the familiar outward signs; instead, they’re discreet episodes that manifest internally. often, these silent panic attacks creep up when least expected, leaving the individual in a whirlwind of confusion and unease. has anyone else ever found themselves in a similar predicament? 😕 the reality for many is one of isolation, as the outside world continues its pace while the individual grapples with an unseen storm.

one may find themselves at a social gathering, surrounded by laughter and conversation, yet feeling inexplicably detached. the heart races, palms sweat, and a feeling of impending doom looms overhead. friends may speak, but their voices are drowned out by the cacophony of racing thoughts and rising anxiety. such instances challenge the individual to maintain an outward appearance of composure while their mind engages in a frantic battle. it begs the question: how does one articulate a silent struggle when the world expects a smile? 🎭

situations arise when the tension becomes so palpable that breath feels scarce. a sudden wave of panic might wash over, leaving one feeling trapped in their own skin. the claustrophobic sensation of being surrounded, yet utterly alone, creates a profound disconnect. the mental fog thickens, causing concentration to falter. it is during these moments of solitude that one ponders the magnitude of perception versus reality. does anyone else experience that moment when everything seems amplified, yet others remain blissfully unaware of your turmoil? 😰

throughout these silent moments, a multitude of coping mechanisms may emerge. whether it’s grounding techniques, deep breathing, or simply stepping outside for a breath of fresh air, the response to such events is deeply individualized. however, the lingering feeling of wanting to express one’s fears can often lead to a sense of frustration. the question persists: is there a way to bridge the gap between personal experiences and external acknowledgment? contextually, how does one convey the urgency of their silent battles without appearing overly dramatic? combating these internal demons requires not only resilience but also a sense of connection with others, even if that connection is predicated on shared, silent understanding. 🌈

When I was a kid I was really good friends with my siblings, we all had good fun together. Well until one day in the summer. Me and my younger sister were playing a game of tag inside. And note of this: even though I was young I had and still have a porn addiction. So me and my sister were on my bed, tired from playing around. And I thought it would be a good idea take advantage of the situation. So I requested her to unclothe herself, and she did. So I continued to touch her cat with my finger, even going down to lick it.

I did end up getting caught afterwards, and the police did get involved; but I didn't go to jail or anything because of my age. And during that time I felt sick, I felt horrible. So I suppressed my feelings and forgot about it, only remembering it like 3 times a year or so.

Now, I'm 18 and I completely forgot about my incident; but one of my sisters friends met someone I knew. Telling he about what I did back then. He texted me about it yesterday, and of course I lied, I'm still in school. But the problem isn't that I lied, the problem is the flow of emotions coming back to me. I feel so disgusting, why did I do that, what is wrong with me. I'm scared he'll find out the truth, because I know that what I did was really bad, and I know that the public will think the same.

I've changed, I know I have, and I think my family knows that as well. But I cant help but feel like a monster, I wasn't to change the past.

I tried looking as this being a wakeup call by a god or something, like some higher being telling me to change my ways. But all I can think about is the future, I don't think I'll ever talk to my family again when I move just out of guilt.

Thanks for reading this.

My girlfriend, Emily, recently made a drastic decision to register for a half-marathon scheduled for December. Surprisingly, her motivation to participate stemmed from her desire to avoid another event scheduled for the same day, using the marathon as an alibi. Before Emily registered, she consulted me and despite my advice against it due to her dislike and inexperience with running, she proceeded to sign up anyway. She explained that she would follow a 12-week training program that came with the registration, hoping to prepare adequately for the challenge.

As an amateur yet seasoned runner myself, regularly participating in elite club competitions and having completed numerous races including half-marathons, I expressed concern. This past summer, I scored notable placements in competitions, finishing fifth and twelfth in different race categories, showcasing my intermediate prowess in the sport. With this background, I tried to offer advice based on my experience.

Emily has always mentioned her aspirations to lead a healthier lifestyle, which I fully support. She recently took up Barre classes, which she enjoys immensely. I initially thought her newfound passion for Barre was the push she needed to sign herself up for the marathon. Given her enthusiasm, I suggested incorporating walking and light jogging into her routine before embarking on the intense 12-week marathon training program. However, Emily was reluctant to double up on her exercise regime, fearing it would be too exhaustive alongside her Barre classes. She believes she possesses a sufficient cardiovascular foundation from her previous basketball activities, despite ending her involvement in the sport eight years ago.

Although her primary aim is to complete the race without targeting a specific finish time, I stressed the importance of serious preparation to avoid potential injuries, especially given the demanding nature of a half-marathon. My insistence led to a heated exchange where Emily accused me of being unsupportive and imposing undue pressure, causing her distress, particularly as she compares her fitness level to mine. Taken aback, I apologized for possibly diminishing her enthusiasm, recognizing the need to approach her athletic ventures with more sensitivity.

This situation, if unfolded under the keen eyes of reality show cameras, could evoke various reactions from an audience. Given the typical nature of reality show drama, viewers might sympathize with Emily's challenge of stepping out of her comfort zone while also critiquing my approach as overly critical or unsupportive, sparking debate among fans.

For those closely following our story, the intrigue and empathy surrounding Emily's ambitious goal, juxtaposed with relationship dynamics and personal growth, could make compelling viewing, adding layers of human interest and relatability to a simple tale of physical endurance.

so, the other day, my kids hit me with that classic line again: “dad, you’re overreacting!” honestly, it feels like a universal law in our household now. a simple mishap, like forgetting to take out the trash? suddenly, it's World War III in my living room. I swear, it’s like my reaction is some overblown sitcom scene, where I’m dramatic for no reason. I try to be chill, but something in me just snaps when I see their mess and the trash piling up. I mean, who wants to live in a pigsty, right?

last week, for example, I caught my youngest trying to microwave a sandwich. I’ll be straight-up with you, the thought of him making that decision just got my dad senses tingling. like, isn’t that a recipe for disaster? those moments when I see their creativity with food just make my heart race. I yelled out, “are you trying to give yourself food poisoning?” I heard the groans as soon as I caught that sparkle of enthusiasm in his eyes—"dad, calm down, it’s just a sandwich!" but seriously, what if it gets burnt? or worse, they try to cook one of those fancy burnt cheese things; it’s like playing with fire! I need them to understand that safety first; it’s about survival too.

then there’s the time they thought it was a good idea to ride their bikes down that steep hill at the park. I mean, come on! the thought of them flying into traffic gave me heart palpitations. I yelled something like, “you’ll break a bone or worse!” and they rolled their eyes at me like I’m living in a different era. it’s almost like they think their dad is just an overly cautious, ridiculous figure to bicker with. I just want to protect them, I swear it’s not just me being dramatic. there’s a fine line between adventure and stupidity, right? how does anyone know where that line is when you have kids who think they're invincible?

one evening, we were watching a movie, and there was a jump scare that made me spill my popcorn everywhere. I went off on a mini-rant, like, “why do filmmakers feel the need to jolt us like that?” my kids laughed, of course. “dad, chill out! it’s just a movie!” it’s like I became the punchline in their comedy show. I’ll admit, I can tend to get a little carried away. yet, how can I not when it feels like everyone around me is playing games with my heart rate? still, I sometimes wonder if I really am overreacting; maybe I should loosen up a bit.

truthfully, I think there’s a straight-up imbalance between their carefree nature and my protective instincts. I want them to explore and be free, but man, do I sometimes feel like a sitcom dad on the verge of a nervous breakdown. am I really overreacting, or do I just have an overabundance of caution that keeps shocking them? I thought being a parent would come with a manual or something. every day is this unique challenge, and I really gotta ask myself—what's wrong with them acting like my reactions are just part of their teenage amusement? it’s a real conundrum; should I embrace the chaos or keep pushing back, expecting them to listen?

I never thought I’d be in this position. You raise your kids, you give them everything you’ve got—your time, your money, your love—and you think one day it’ll all make sense. That maybe they’ll appreciate it, or at the very least, respect you as they get older. But now, at 56 years old, I find myself constantly walking on eggshells around my own children, who are in their 20s and early 30s. They speak to me in ways I wouldn’t have dreamed of speaking to my parents. The tone, the eye-rolls, the sarcasm—it stings more than I care to admit. I try to talk to them like adults, to find common ground, but everything turns into an argument or gets brushed off like I’m some outdated relic who doesn’t get it. They treat me like I’m clueless, like my opinion doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t expect them to agree with me on everything, of course, but there’s a basic level of decency I thought we’d built—and lately, I just don’t feel it.

It’s hard, because I still see the little kids in them. I remember teaching them how to ride a bike, watching movies together, helping with homework. I didn’t always get it right, I’ll admit that. I made mistakes, like any parent. I worked a lot, I was strict at times, I didn’t always know how to express emotions the way they wanted. But everything I did, I did out of love and a desire to see them succeed. And now that they’re grown, it’s like the script has flipped completely. They criticize the way they were raised, throw words like “toxic” and “trauma” around like darts. And it hurts. It hurts more than I can put into words. I don’t get the benefit of the doubt. I don’t get asked how I’m doing. I just get blamed for everything that went wrong, while all the good I tried to do gets forgotten. And the worst part is, I start to question myself. Was I really that bad of a father? Or are they just seeing me through a lens I’ll never be able to clean?

I’ve been trying to find ways to reconnect, to rebuild that mutual respect. But I’ll be honest, I don’t always know where to start. I’ve read the books, tried to open up more, asked for their thoughts even when it’s hard to hear. Sometimes it helps, sometimes it just makes things worse. I try not to react when they get rude, but I’m still human. It’s difficult not to take it personal when your own child rolls their eyes at you or talks to you like you’re stupid. I want to be close to them, but not at the cost of being constantly disrespected. So if you’re asking how to deal with disrespectful adult children, I guess the best I can say is: stay patient, keep the door open, but don’t let yourself be walked on. Set boundaries, as hard as that is when you love them so much. And maybe one day they’ll understand that you weren’t trying to control them—you were just trying your best to love them in the only way you knew how.

My dad has schizophrenia. Ever since childhood it has been my insecurity. One day when I was in class 1 my dad randomly can to my friend and started saying random shit to him and it scared him. I am used to this behavior but many people don't know what schizophrenia is . Similar incidents like this has happened all through my life . Now I am in class 12 and nothing has changed,. This creates negavity in my mind. I feel like people's attitude towards me changes when they come to know about my family situation.