My Father Hated Me
“My mother was an addict, and one of her binge stages was blurting out secrets. When I was 13, she confessed to me while hammered that my father hated children, my father resented and hated me, and my mother tried VERY hard to get him to like me and failed. Those I suspected. Having verbal confirmation by the woman who tried to lie about it all these years was still a little disheartening at 13.
But there was more.
My mother was married for 9 years, thinking she’d turn my dad around. She wanted kids so bad. My dad was away a lot on business, and while she traveled with him, she was often alone in exotic places around the world, and extremely lonely, so she stopped taking birth control.
When she told my dad she was pregnant, he walked away from her and was missing for 3 days. She panicked and was planning to have her parents fly her back to the states, but my dad returned. My dad said that England had just legalized abortions, and so they could fly there and fix her mistake. She refused. This nearly killed their bedroom life for the rest of their marriage. She decided to have me, but I was a HUGE rift in their relationship.
She confessed and begged my forgiveness that she meant well, wanted kids, but shouldn’t have done what she did. She really thought my dad would ‘turn around’ and love me. But he didn’t. He kind of resorted to his old habits of bullying his little brother, whom he also hated, by bullying me. Tormenting me was a great sense of joy to him. Her confession was soaked with regret and guilt, apologizing to me, and to my dad (who was not present for this, but it explained why he said I should’ve never been born and I was ruining his marriage).
My mother eventually took her own life when I was 18 years old, and I was homeless for a little while when I graduated high school. My dad and I do not speak, and the last time I saw him was in 1998.
My mother also got pregnant with a girl when I was eight years old but was forced to give her up for adoption. I ended up finding her in 2000, and we stay very close, trying to catch up.”
I Haven’t Been Able To Look At Them The Same
“My dad is an addict and my mom told him to leave the house for awhile while I was away at college. I made a surprise trip home to find out that he is living in a Motel 6, go to see him and he’s hammered. I take his keys so he can’t go anywhere.
That’s beside the point.
He goes out and buys a six-pack, and tells me to share them with him. I was 19 at the time (22 now) and he goes on to tell me about how much he loves my mom. Which transitions into him telling me that my mom’s dad had multiple friends who assaulted my mom multiple times which led her to getting multiple abortions. She was so traumatized by it that when she got pregnant with me, she goes to my dad, breaks down crying and says she has an abortion scheduled because she thought my dad would leave her because she was pregnant, which led to her telling him the story I just told all of you.
This explains why my grandfather is pretty much never around, and why my grandma and mom never talk about him and avoid him.
My mom has absolutely no idea that I know this story either, but I have never really been able to look at my grandpa or my mom the same way since then.”
Dad, Cover Yourself!
“Around 16-17 years ago I found out how well hung my best friend’s dad is. I should note that he’s still my best friend and our families have been close for well over 20 years now.
My buddy and I had come back inside after going out to their pool to ‘swim.’ We were really just getting high, but ‘swim’ seemed like a good excuse for a 16-year-old. Their parents totally knew.
Anyways, back to the story. We walk back inside and his dad is sitting on the couch with just a towel on. He grins at us and it was the biggest grin I’ve ever seen him make (even still, to this day). He proceeds to tell us how him and his wife just banged in the bathroom and our ‘little stunt’ nearly ‘dried her up.’ They had apparently saw us packing my bowl while he was railing her from behind (his words, not mine). Whoops.
So my buddy and I are sitting there dying of laughter. When suddenly I look down and see his junk hanging out of his towel. And when I say hanging, I mean his towel wasn’t even covering him. It was all there, for everyone to see. So my friend goes something like ‘Dad, dude. Cover yourself!’
He proceeds to stand up and go ‘What? This ‘ol thing’ as the towel falls to the floor. He then does a few second helicopter before his wife walks into the living room and forces him back to the bedroom. Come morning he had remembered none of it.
The sounds that came out of their room that night were unlike any I’ve heard in that house. It was normal to hear them bang (they banged frequently, and it was a small house), but nothing like that night.
I still give him crap for it.”
“My grandmother must have preferred first-person shooters just like her grandson since it only took a headshot to kill my biological grandfather. My grandmother claimed that she shot him in self-defense, but the evidence may have suggested otherwise, at least based on the story I was told by my drunk 85-year-old great grandmother.
During the trial, her lawyer guaranteed that she would get off scot-free as long as she did one thing. Apparently, it was a known fact to a handful of lawyers that the judge presiding over my grandmother’s trial had an affinity for Jezebel women. The lawyer told my grandmother that the judge was known to make decisions in favor of some clients whenever he was gifted a certain blonde Jezebel in particular. My grandmother followed her counsel’s advice and after the judge was ‘satisfied’ she walked out of the court a free woman.
I am one of a select few in our family who has any knowledge of the entire event that took place. I only found out about the whole thing due to one of my great grandmothers’ drunken rants where she went on about having to ‘buy that judge the sleaziest blonde floozy’ that she could afford. I was able to pry the rest of the information out of her at that point. From the way the drunken story was told to me, it sounded as though it was more of a plea bargain involving the prosecutor as well. So the prosecutor may have been gifted a sleazy broad as part of the deal. This took place over 50 years ago, so who really knows at this point.”
What Really Happened To The Pet Chickens
“We found out what really happened to the chickens my grandparents had given my dad and his siblings for Easter back in the ’50s. Grandpa passed away back in 1999, but just the other year at one of the last family gatherings with my Grandma, she got into a little too much tequila rose (she loved that stuff, her last food-type substance was tequila rose) and she was on some pretty heavy meds. All 6 of her children plus 20-30 grandchildren/great-grandchildren were all gathered around watching home movies from so long ago that sound wasn’t included. Then the Easter the children received adorable baby chicks popped on.
Grandma chimes in, ‘Oh those are the chickens we got for Easter. The stupid things wouldn’t die. I felt so bad for killing them but we couldn’t afford meat for that month and I just wanted a good meal for the chil-‘
Que my youngest aunt, ‘WE ATE OUR PET CHICKENS?! You said we couldn’t keep them in the backyard anymore and they went to so-and-so’s farm!!’
Grandma, ‘Oops, forget I said that.’
Que the other aunt, ‘This is worse than the time we found out about your true age when writing the obituary for dad.’
Grandma, ‘Well I wanted to get married, what difference does two years make?'”
The Poor Dog
“My brother was friends with some pretty odd dudes in high school. I was friendly with most of them so it was cool hanging out with them. But one of the kids was way weirder than the rest. Like we’d all smoke some bud or something and relax. This kid would like just go catatonic for an hour or else he’d laugh until he hyperventilated and passed out. In short, everyone thought he was a weirdo in a group full of other weirdos.
Fast forward four years. I’m in college and he messages me to say he’ll be in town for a math contest. Yes that’s a thing. He comes over to my place. I was a huge drinker at the time so I break out a gallon jug of Carlo Rossi. We drink about three-quarters of it and the kid is sloshed. He looks at me and says ‘I’m going to tell you something I’ve never told anyone.’
I immediately assume he’s going to tell me he’s gay because I’ve had other friends come out to me. I’m like that’s no big deal. I prepare for the whole ‘dude who cares’ speech I’m about to give him and we move on with drinking.
Instead he tells me that his dad was always really mean. I’m now thinking he’s going to tell me how his dad abused him. But then he veered off and said his dad was mean to his mom. So I’m thinking maybe that the dad beat the mom and she took it out on him. But as I’m trying to figure out what’s been going on in this kid’s house he tells me that the mom takes out her frustration on the dog. Now this revelation I wasn’t expecting at all because the mom is the most ‘normal’ in the house and also because she’s been really nice to all the visitors.
I thought that was his big revelation. Boy was I wrong.
Kid keeps talking about how bad the dog has it. I finally tell the guy to just blurt out his big secret. The dude chugs a coffee mug of cheap wine and just blurts out that for about a year he’s been blowing the dog … NOT because he’s into it but because he feels really bad for the dog and that it started with some hand stuff here or there but after awhile he felt like going down on the dog would feel more natural.”
My Wife Was Her Only Friend
“This breaks my heart.
This weekend we drove 2 hours out to visit my wife’s cousin to see her new place. We aren’t even close, but my wife and I both thought that it would be nice to finally get to know this cousin outside of family gatherings.
We were expecting to see her new baby but knew her husband was out fighting the forest fires. There was no baby, she said he was with grandma so we all could have fun. Okay, cool.
She was so happy to see us. We were surprised because we don’t know her that well, but she was so sweet and happy that everything was great.
So she starts drinking, I mean, we all do, but she really starts drinking.
She reveals through the night that the child isn’t just being babysat, but he’s actually in his grandmother’s care because as it turns out this cousin is depressed, suicidal, and thought about taking her son with her, so she called the police on herself.
I’m so glad she made that call, but everyone else in our family is furious at her for being such a burden. My wife and I have worked with unstable people before, and this is a pretty sad yet common reaction to cries for help.
Now she’s isolated with literally zero people around her for weeks at a time because everyone hates her for calling the police on herself. Again, nobody cared enough to tell my wife and I that this was going on.
This girl has literally no friends in the world and is all alone all day every day. She just needed the liquid courage to reach out.
The next morning, she wakes up, still plastered, and tells us she’s ready. She asks us to take her to the emergency room so that she can get checked in, because she wants to die. Outpatient therapy isn’t working.
So we ask her to text her husband and tell him what’s up, but there’s no way we aren’t going to take her; this was a very real cry for help.
So we took her to the ER where she sobered up, and I helped her get herself checked in. By this time my wife and I knew what this was because postpartum depression is big in my family.
I stayed with her in the room and helped encourage her to answer honestly, I got in contact with her mom and then wife and I went back to her home and cleaned it up when the deputy or whatever drove cousin to the inpatient therapy.
After getting her checked in we received all types of nasty messages asking about what ‘that stupid girl’ did now. We didn’t respond. When we got home my wife’s mom (who also didn’t know about all of this) asked us why she had been receiving crazy emails and phone calls all day, and we told her.
Turns out my wife is this girl’s only facebook friend. We both just feel so sad that this girl has had to go through this much without anyone actively trying to help her. They all just punished her for being broken.
Some people see a scared and mentally unstable girl as nothing but a problem and wants them to just disappear. I’m so sad for her, but I’m glad we decided to visit.”
“I spent my high school years fervently religious, studying hard, and doing a lot of extracurriculars, but it was always my sister who was the angel of the family. If I slipped and said a swear word like ‘crap’ or missed a homework assignment or watched a PG-13 movie, she’d be there to scold me, tell my parents, or even on a few occasions tell my pastor.
Fast-forward to my very young uncle’s bachelor party some ten or so years later. He gets blitzed and reveals to me all the crazy things she did – apparently they ran in the same circles, although I never would’ve guessed it. While she was being the perfect child at home, at night she was sneaking out to parties, doing basically every substance she could find, banging random dudes in plain view of everybody else, and starting physical fights with her friends. My uncle caught her stealing from other people’s purses once. Reportedly she totaled one of his friends’ cars and just got out and started walking home – nobody else was involved in the accident but it’s still a pretty crappy move.
Based on the above information and some other details I remember from those years, I have a strong suspicion that she had at least one abortion over the course of all this – not that I care if she had one, but it certainly makes her a massive hypocrite for all the pro-life bs she spews at the slightest provocation.
She continues her act to this day, but now I know.”
“They Love My Brother More”
“My dad was wasted and high when he called me out of my room. While on the couch, he proceeded to tell me that he was going to walk out on my mom when my older brother was born. The reason he didn’t leave was because he feared he’d be just like his dad who walked out on him and didn’t want that for my brother. He knew how hard it was to grow up without a dad. So he stuck around and loved my brother more than anything else. He spoiled him rotten.
When my mom got pregnant with me and they found out I was a girl, they were disappointed. He said they wouldn’t be able to deal with a whiny, girly child after dealing with a boy for three years. He then told me he loved my brother more than me and that he has a special place in his heart. He said he could never love me like he loved my brother. He told me that I would never amount to anything compared to my brother. He wished that I was more like my brother so I wouldn’t be a failure in life. Even after my brother messed up royally and split the family, my dad still stands in my brother’s corner. My brother does nothing but sit around at home, smoke weed, and waste away. I was 12 when he confessed that to me and, if I’m totally honest, it was always obvious he didn’t love me like my brother. Both of my parents loved my brother more than me, that much is clear to me now. I’m waiting to turn 18 and bounce as soon as I can. I refuse to be what my brother has become.”
“When I was a kid we used to go over to my great aunt’s house for Christmas with the family that we had here in the US, which were mostly my dad’s cousins and their kids. My uncle used to dress up as Santa Claus and hand out presents to the kids.
Well, one year, he had way too much to drink before doing this. Instead of the usual, well-coordinated Santa we got a stumbling, plastered Uncle Beto, which was obvious because he forgot the hat and beard. At this point the younger kids were asking what happened to Santa (I was old enough to know the truth at the time) and my uncle told them that there was no Santa. Of course this just made the kids even more upset and finally another relative stepped in and got my uncle out of there. That was actually the last Christmas we had all together like that, because my great aunt passed away the next year.”
“Came home for Thanksgiving, but the rest of the extended family couldn’t make it. Just me, my sister, my parents, and my aunt and uncle. I brought a bunch of wine back home from local vineyards hoping to share with my cousins, and managed to convince my uncle to have some. Some turns into a bit, a bit turns into bottles, which turns into stories!
My uncle regales us all with how he used to work for his aunt and uncle who would repo cars back in the 60’s. At the time he was in his early teens, and he went to work for them. His uncle would drive the truck, his aunt watched for trouble holding a loaded weapon and he would hook up the cars to the truck. We all laughed, and then he confided that they did some ‘shadier’ business.
He then goes on to tell about how sometimes people would bring a car into his aunt and uncle’s shop, and they would tell him to go hide it in one of a few lots around town. He would do so from time to time and then later take those cars to a paint shop they were friendly with and get them painted, then they would get sold at another relative’s car lot. He confided that he was pretty sure the people bringing in these almost certainly stolen cars were mobsters.
The best part was my aunt’s reaction after he finished. ‘You never told me that story.’ My sister and I almost die in our fit of inappropriate laughter. Aunt and uncle have been married since she was 17 and he 18. This all came out just last Thanksgiving and we were sworn to secrecy lest my cousins or the rest of the extended family find out.”
“So my dad is a pretty cool guy but a teetotaller; he will drink for religious reasons. Mom will occasionally imbibe, but not around him in order to keep the peace. He knows about it, he just doesn’t like it.
Well, one day I was at a family friend’s wedding with Mom (not Dad). The mother of the bride is Mom’s best friend and tends to bring out Mom’s more adventurous side.
Long story short, Mom gets tipsy (which was entertaining in its own right) and I take the opportunity to pry her for information about Dad.
Now Dad never talks about college much. I know that he was in a fraternity because of some playing cards branded with TKE. I know that he took a trip to Moscow in the 70s. I know that he had a full academic scholarship from winning a math competition. That’s about it.
So Mom starts gushing about how Dad not only drank in college but carried a bit of notoriety for his drinking. He was famous for playing 8-ball pool and drinking a pint any time an opponent sank a shot. Also there was a girlfriend on the Moscow trip that my mom was crazy jealous of for the longest time -presumably because she may or may not have taken his v-card.
The whole conversation was eye opening.
My straight shooting, the very paradigm of integrity, über-religious father had a history of drinking, gambling, and premarital shenanigans.
Years later I asked him about his college drinking. He acknowledged it, but didn’t say much other than ‘I wasn’t the man I wanted to be back then.’ When asked about what made him stop, he said it was because he made the first C of his life in his junior year.
Dad — ever the over-achiever.”