"My mom is literally evil.
She used to beat the crap out of me when I was a young child, emotionally abused me, even allowed me to be violated.
I remember being locked in a cupboard for 40 hours with a bowl of water once, I can't remember what for, but she did that kind of abusive stuff for her own amusement.
She told the police that my dad (who is genuinely the nicest and best person in the world) that he abused and beat her up all the time, and got a restraining order so that I couldn't see him.
I believed her lies, I believed that my dad was evil.
My dad asked my grandma (his mom) to call the school, pretend to be my mom, and pick me up for a 'dentist appointment,' and they picked me up. I was terrified, but he explained, he took me for ice cream and asked that when I went out to play in the streets that I secretly came to see him. I agreed.
Over the next couple of years, my dad sold his house and prepared for a court case to win full custody of my sister and me.
It was an uphill battle, with everything against him, but in the end, he won and I was away from my horrible piece of work of a mother.
I was 11 when my dad got custody, and it's been well over a decade since it happened. I still have scars, physical and emotional from my mother, but I'm mostly happy overall. I have literally the greatest dad on the planet who gave up his dream career, his home, etc. just to guarantee my happiness.
I've seen my mom once since I moved out in the January two months before my 12th birthday, and we passed each other walking down the street. We didn't say a word to or look at each other.
Finding out that didn't have to see my mother again if I didn't want to was the greatest day of my life."
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"My dad was livid when he found out my wife and I would be adopting outside of our race and asked us if we realized how humiliating that would be for him. He was already tired of trying to explain why one of his sons (one younger brother) married an immigrant. Now he was going to have to explain why another one of his sons has biracial/black children.
After he repeatedly called my kids (and my brother's half Korean kids) the 'colored grandkids' and told me to 'shut that n-word up' when my infant was fussy from teething, I told him he either had to stop or I was cutting him out of my life for good. He asked me if I was going to choose my children over blood. My kids are teens now and I haven't talked to him since.
I am huge on the importance of family so it was a tough thing to do, but it was one of the best decisions I have made in my life and my brothers, who are all no contact with him now, and I are so much closer because of it. We take all of our kids out camping on father's day to celebrate us as dads and forget about our own father. My kids are very close to their cousins and their uncles and aunts. My brothers come to my daughter's concerts and my son's sporting events when they can make it. I go to their kids' events as well. My son was disappointed that his hemophiliac cousin wouldn't be able to participate in the paintballing part of his last birthday so he invited him over to swim after instead. One of my nephews has helped tutor my daughter in piano. My youngest brother flips houses for a living and my son often goes with his cousins to help his uncle and earn some cash. I think adopted kids especially value family and I'm glad my brothers can make up for them not having their grandfather in their lives. He is missing out on some truly amazing kids, teenagers, and young adults but that's a choice he made. He tells his friends that he doesn't know why his kids don't talk to him but we all know the truth. He can spin his story if he wants."
"My mother is a toxic person who manages to surprise even the mental health professionals and people who know her with her outrageousness.
I went no contact most recently when she called me at work, verbally attacked me and told me I was a awful person and she'd rather die than deal with it (my father had died a few months before). I said 'I respect your decision,' and hung up.
After lots of mental health struggles, I've begun to realize the true depth of her abuse and how badly she messed me up. I always knew she was abusive, but even I didn't realize how bad. I've managed to surprise and horrify my long-term therapist with things that were just off hand childhood anecdotes - I didn't realize how much they said about my abuse, which made me realize I needed help. Group therapy, dialectical behavioral therapy, workbooks, and learning that I likely have an anxiety disorder, in addition to depression, with symptoms of PTSD/CPTSD. If I'd gotten help sooner, my life would be very different.
That woman put me through the worst time of my life, and I have accepted that the mother I thought I had is dead. I've grieved her. I can't fix who she is, I can't make her get mental health treatment, and it's not my job to parent her. My responsibility is to put my oxygen mask on myself first. Inside that toxic addict is a scared and lonely person who never got the help and the support they needed from their parents. I pity them, I feel bad, but I can't do anything to change that except to limit the collateral damage it leaves in its wake.
It took losing my dad to realize that I deserved to be treated better. I think he'd be proud I got there.
I'm sorting my deceased father's stuff because it's hot as heck outside, so yard work will wait.
My mother physically and emotionally abused me. She let her friends harass me. She implied my father abused me (and that the divorce decree would prove it). She blamed me for her self-inflicted poor health and told me she wouldn't live to see me graduate high school. She engaged in parental alienation.
I just found the accounting my dad kept of every child support check he sent her, with notations for the ones she never bothered to cash. Based on his income, his support was less than $200 a month, and she lived like a queen on money from her parents while telling me my dad was a deadbeat who wouldn't pay, and that's why we didn't have food (she just didn't want to go to the store).
I want to go back to no contact all over again. I swear, every time I think I know the depths of her evil, that woman surprises me."
"I have an overly religious dad (who's a pastor and has a doctorate in theology) with a family of four. My parents divorced in my early 20s out of nowhere, but the end understanding was that they should only engage in coitus to reproduce and Jesus would be mad otherwise.
Anyway, I came out when I was 20 (I'm 30 now). I'm pretty straight-acting though; I'm a prairie boy who works on oil rigs, so it's impossible to tell.
I ended up dating a guy for five years, and my dad refused to acknowledge it or meet him. At the end of this relationship, my dad got engaged after two dates with some born-again Christian from Christian Mingle. They got married two months later. My dad stressed to me that I must be there to witness a true declaration of love. I was pretty much embarrassed by my dad throughout most of the event (my partner was barred from coming) and made unwelcome. He forbade me to talk about my personal life.
Anyways, after much of this back and forth, my dad refused to ever meet my partner. Here are some other things that ended our relationship:
There is so much more, but it came to the point at which I was just tired with it all and had to give it up. I haven't spoken to my dad in four years. He keeps trying to reach out, however, he refuses to see that anything is wrong with this.
I can acknowledge that some people can understand and not be tolerant of being gay (heck, I work on an oil rig and I must cover it up) but it was too much. It was taxing, humiliating, and had to be ended."
Marcos Mesa Sam Wordley/Shutterstock
"My father is a narcissist. I was not the favorite child because I betrayed him by being a girl, not the boy he wanted. My parents broke up when I was five or six years old. My father was quite abusive to my mom, he seldom worked, and he is the parent I remember always being at the house as a kid but never really doing any parenting. He abused narcotics. Anyway, this doesn't need to be a biography.
My father continued on being an irresponsible parent. We would go to his apartment and he would lock himself in his bathroom and do blow all day while my sister and I did whatever. We never said anything to mom because this was 'normal.' I mentioned it when I was about 25 to my mom and she had a little fit. My father would promise big things and never deliver. He bragged about all the things he would do but never did. He always worked under the table so that he reported no income and didn't have to pay mom anything.
As I moved into my teens, I became somewhat aware of my father's financial irresponsibility. I would make remarks about him thinking about retirement and he would snort and say, 'I won't live that long.' By my teen years, I stopped my visits to his house because they were awful. Sitting on his couch, no friends in his town, watching TV while he hid in the bathroom.
When I moved into adulthood, I realized what a loser my father was, but he was back living with his mother since his father died so life from the outside didn't look too bad for him. He lived, rent- and bill-free, with his mom from 1994 to 2015. When she died, which I truly believe he was the reason she died when she did, he had NOTHING. Destitute. He had stopped working altogether 10 years priors and had been a leech. I went to visit him at his new apartment that Christmas and cried the whole way back to my mom's. He lived in the slums. My family has always been solidly middle class. I had a really hard time coming to terms with the reality that I was by miles and miles so much more successful and stable than my father. It was weird. I know this makes me sound snobby. I do realize that his lifestyle and choice of living situation helped facilitate his ease of access to narcotics.
In 2016, I get a call that, 'your father tried to commit suicide last night. He is in the hospital on a psych hold.' I had the weirdest emotional reaction to it and after the fact I realized I let out a huge sigh of relief. My father not planning to live to 65 had been weighing on my subconscious and here he was 65 years and 3 months old.
I go to the hospital to visit. He was so malnourished that he could not walk because the fat on his foot pads was gone. I sat there in this huge family meeting of his three brothers and their wives, the psychiatrist, a social worker, and a nurse all telling me to feel pity for this man. Look at the state he is in at 65 years old. I remember asking, 'Do you think this happened overnight? Do you think that he was entirely helpless in not be able to change his circumstances?' No answer. I brought up his narcotics use and everyone denied that any of that had ever occurred. I know what crack smells like because that is what my father's apartments smelled like. His brothers were completely falling for the poor wounded bird act and they were going to pay for his housing and other expenses. I largely stayed quiet in order to avoid being dragged in. My father gets out of the hospital and slowly stops calling so I know this pattern so I stop calling him too. My birthday passes, no call, Christmas passes, no call. I decide then that I am done.
Eight more months pass and no call from him. But I get a call from an aunt. The family is asking me to take over responsibility (mainly financial) for my father as he is an economic drain on them and he's being a screaming tyrant whenever they say no. I flat out said no. My aunt says, 'What should we do?' and I said, 'it is never too late to have better boundaries and to stop putting up with his nonsense. You folks have enabled him, so I am sorry but he is your problem.' I hung up and blocked everyone's numbers.
Life is good but I have a niggling anxiety that he is going to rear his head somehow. I regret having ever let him know where I moved to. My partner knows that if anyone shows up saying they are my father to call the cops. I have the additional worry that when he dies his family will try to pass the financial burden to me. I have resolved to not claim his body. I have resolved to not attend the funeral either if they do it. It doesn't feel good to know that these are potential life choices coming up but it is what it is."
"Well, there's a laundry list, but I'll try to be succinct.
My parents divorced when I was six or seven. There were lots of happenings and going-on that I didn't understand and have became fuzzy memories.
My father heavily favored my sister. He had weekend visitation, and I'd often wake up on Sunday mornings to an empty house. He would take my sister on toy shopping trips, or out to eat and leave me home all alone, all day. I never quite understood this as a child. My sister and I had to start seeing a child psychologist, which I hated because I never understood why we had to go.
He also did other strange things, like making her sleep in his room as opposed to her own. He also used to lie to us about my mother, using me and my sister as pawns. I was truly awful to my mom as a kid because of this, but she took it in stride.
As I approached adulthood, he began to use opiates. Openly. Sniffing them from a pill crusher in his pocket pretty much all the time. My father was always an unsavory character, but this is what started me on not wanting to be around him. I began to see who he really was.
Once I turned 18, my mother sat me down and explained everything to me about the divorce; she filled in all the blanks. My father abused my sister and I didn't understand at the time and I let it happen. He was also a lifelong drinker and crank user.
I've cut off all contact with him with since then."
"My dad spontaneously decided to date and live with someone my age, and decided he didn't really want his kids involved in his new life. He was willing to give us all a relationship only if it could be entirely on his terms. He would get to decide how often we saw each other and how much of his life we were involved in. I wasn't up for that, so I said I'll take none.
My mom suffers from mental illness. She isn't really self-sufficient, so for a while, I tried to help her, but she doesn't understand boundaries and wanted more and more and if I said no, she didn't want me around at all. And she refuses any mental health treatment. Plus, I realized that I'd spent my whole life being the parent to my parents, and never the kid. So I decided it was time to focus on me. I'll let her back in if she ever decides she wants to act like a mother.
Not speaking to my parents definitely affects me. Seeing other people who have families makes me feel alone. I have good friends, but that's not the same because those friends still have families. It's hard to know I have nothing to fall back on in emergencies. I have to be completely self-sufficient. Holidays are super rough. I spend a lot of time grieving the family I wish I'd had. I don't really have any fear. I sometimes have sadness and at other times anger, but not fear. I am very comfortable with my choices and I live a generally happy and fulfilling life. I don't doubt that the decision was right for me. But I can still acknowledge the parts of it that hurt."
"My parents divorced when I was three and I ended up living with my mom. This is because the courts went in her favor, even though she threatened to kill me if my dad didn't give her everything.
She took all the credit cards, all their savings, all the savings for my future and spent it all on Smirnoff and traveling from house to house with new boyfriend after new boyfriend taking me with her.
My mother was depressed, had schizophrenic tendencies, and was always inebriated.
I never had any friends growing up or any proper food. She ingrained in my head that all men were evil, so I had very negative relationships in the future because of her.
And the worst part about it all was that she lied about my dad. She told me all these horrible things about him so I would never choose to live with him instead.
My mother said my dad was a woman beater and that he kicked her out the house after the divorce (it was the other way around). She said he hated me and he wasn't a good person to live with. I had no reason to doubt her until I moved out.
He turned out to be the nicest man ever. He really helped me with so much.
I could have had a good life but my mother stole it from me. I could have moved away but she filled my head with lies.
I have been no contact with her since I moved out at 16. Actually, I did try to contact her a few months after but she was blasted on the phone, so I hung up.
There has been absolutely no contact since.
She doesn't know I have a daughter and my own family now. She doesn't know where I live. And she never will."
"When I was three, my parents divorced and the reason why was very blurry to me. I knew my dad didn't take his medication for his bipolar disorder and he did a lot of crap without them.
They remarried each other when I was 15 because my dad was finally taking care of himself and was a lot of help. We were about to move 500 miles away so they got hitched fast.
When I was 17, I was hospitalized for a mental break where I was diagnosed with bipolar as well and this sent their tiffs into arguments. My mother started confining herself to two rooms of the house and my dad was smoking four packs a day and got aggressive if he didn't, so the bills were getting behind. I had to kick my dad out of the house when I came home from college. My brother and I got $100 between us and told him to pack his stuff and go.
Not long after that, I found out that he never wanted to have me and tried to kill me as a toddler. So I cut him off. We haven't spoken since 12/29/15. Occasionally I'll look on his Facebook. He recently had his leg amputated. He hasn't posted in almost 10 days, so I think he's in the hospital again. I wish the pain of his death would happen already so I can move on."
"Oh boy, where do I start? So it begins all the way back in 1997 when I was the age of 12. My parents loved looking like rich people. Dad got a BMW, etc. They made a lot of terrible business decisions, and both they and their company became bankrupt. Our house was sold, and I moved around like a nomad every year. They wanted to get into owning a business again, so they used my name (I was 14 then) to start one.
Of course, it failed, and I now owe 90k worth of debt, but due to technicalities (I cannot be sued for the amount as I was not of legal age for the debt) I thankfully do not need to pay. When I was 17, I found out that my parents had been borrowing money from everyone they knew, friends or family, under the pretense that the kids 'needed food and shelter,' but of course, the money went elsewhere. The reason we moved every year was that they never paid rent and we could get evicted eventually. One time, we even got into issues as the landlord actually took legal action.
I was also treated very differently from my siblings. I can say with certainty that I was never happy at home. At 14, I started gaming since that was the best experience and memories that I had at home. I even met my best group of friends playing World of Warcraft. My mother, in particular, would constantly nag about me being on the computer, while my brother and sister never got any crap. My ex even got into an argument with my mother about how she treated me. Needless to say, my parents didn't like her at all.
When I finally started working after my conscription ended, I was only holding a temp position. It did not pay much, but due to the amount of overtime available, I was earning 3k-4k a month. My parents insisted on staying in a condominium over government-owned flats, where the rent had at least a $700 difference. I also made the mistake of passing them the rent money for payment, which of course, did not go to the rent. I was even helping my brother with his university fees. My parents refused to work, even though they were still in their mid-late 40s. They also turn their noses at jobs like taxi drivers, saying they were low class and will not be seen doing such a job.
Of course, overtime was soon no longer available at my job. I told them that we had to either move to a cheaper place, or I will leave on my own. They didn't believe that I would have done it and played the filial piety card (I'm Asian). I left one week later.
Three years after not speaking to them, I received a legal letter informing me that I had not paid the rent for 5 months and that the landlord was taking legal measures. The problem is that it was for an address that I did not know. It turns out that my old man forged my signature when they rented their place. After weeks of legal proceedings, I was cleared of charges. I have not spoken to my family since.
Leaving was possibly the best decision ever. My only regret was that I didn't do it earlier. Thanks to this family experience, I find myself being unable to have close relationships with anyone. When I see lovey-dovey couples, my reaction would be 'those fools, they'll regret it later.' I fear getting married and having kids. I guess it is also for the best since my health condition is horrible (I have very high cholesterol and diabetes, and I'm inevitably going blind)."
"My father has always been a deadbeat. But I tried to keep in touch mainly for my little brother's sake. I'm 20 now and my parents divorced when I was 4, the same year my brother was born. I, of course, grew up with the heartbreak of my dad calling crying on the phone about how hard his life was, how much he misses us, that he could visit us more if he had more money.
But even when he could visit, he usually bailed at the last minute, calling to say he was sick. I now know he was just always hungover or possibly still inebriated from the night before. We went to family reunions, and he and I have birthdays a day apart which was super awkward whenever we were together for one. But I think in all the years my parents were divorced I've seen him maybe 20 times. And he only lives half an hour away.
Back in 2015, he called me at 4:00 am super wasted. I confronted him about it and he said he was just really tired, and that he wanted to tell me about all the cool stuff he bought me and my brother that I would never get now for being so rude and obnoxious. He told me I was the sole reason he drank and that my little cousin was more of a daughter to him than I'd ever been. He hung up on me and stupidly I called back and apologized.
I told my mom about it and she told me that I don't owe him anything. That was the last time I spoke to him, but my little brother was only 13 and didn't really understand. So we kept going to family things. This winter though, my grandma passed away and my dad showed up at the funeral with his wife, who he'd known for all of 2 months by that point. He stumbled in wasted, went up to my brother and said, 'meet your new mom.' And then ignored him for the rest of the night. It broke his heart. So it took almost 15 years, but we've finally cut off full contact with him."
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