5 posts shown.
wearywolf252 said:I won't get all philosophical on you... But look, if you aren't just trolling for attention, you need professional intervention. And I mean serious, step-by-step help. Reach out to social services, the police, a psychiatrist—basically anyone who can actually assist. And believe me, seeking help doesn't make you crazy.
On the other hand, if this is just some elaborate troll, then I have to hand it to you—your attention to detail is impressive. But what actually happened with David? He always struck me as a decent guy.😛
David got married and has a little girl now!!!
hollowdrifter5 said:Your dad can say whatever he wants, but considering he hasn't exactly been a model of support for you, he isn't in any position to understand what real care looks like.
From what I can gather, your mother and stepfather aren't exactly stepping up for your daughter, so she’d likely be better off with you—assuming you have the energy, the willpower, and the financial stability to take her in. Have you ever actually sat your mother down and talked about this?
What does your boyfriend think about all this? Have you brought him into the loop yet?
Talking to my mother is basically impossible—I can rarely catch her when she isn't intoxicated... I've tried everything, from being gentle to being blunt, but nothing sticks. I even went as far as telling her I’d call Child Protective Services, but then the threats started—she told me I'd never see the kid again and that my stepfather would physically come after me. My boyfriend has already stepped up; he's fully embraced her and knows that I'm nothing without that little girl. He's ready to help out with the costs if she moves in with us, but man, reporting my own mother to the state feels heavy. She's still my mom, after all, so I'm just desperately searching for some middle ground where I can get custody peacefully and they can actually act like parents in her life.
Brenda Johnson65 said:I have to admit, I found the narrative rather difficult to follow. The structure feels somewhat disjointed, making it hard to maintain a clear sense of direction. Specifically, the interpersonal dynamics remain murky; I couldn’t quite pin down the exact relationship between the author’s stepfather and mother versus her relationship with her father. Furthermore, by the end of the piece, the details regarding her current residence and her primary source of income are left frustratingly vague. 🤷 The significance of those two female friends, the brother, and even the string of guys she dated prior to settling down with her wealthy boyfriend remains entirely elusive to me. 😢
Regardless of the specifics, if everything being recounted is actually true, it is a profoundly melancholy situation.
Forgive me—my last post was a complete mess. Everything just sort of came rushing out at once and I needed to vent... I guess I just had to get it all off my chest. I'm 24 now, living on my own—well, effectively, since I'm sharing a place with Michelle... she's six. My stepdad, my mom, and I actually get along quite well, mostly because I tend to stay quiet and keep to myself to ensure the little one gets as much time with me as possible. My stepdad gives me $167 every month to help "watch" her, and my boyfriend sends over $333 monthly, plus he covers the utility bills. I'm on decent terms with my biological father, too, though he's constantly breathing down my neck about the kid!
Of course I want guardianship, but there’s this nagging fear—if I actually pull the trigger on all of this and things go south... then I won't even be able to see them anymore.
A lot of people have mentioned feeling a sense of relief—like a weight being lifted—once they finally open up about their struggles to someone else..
I’ve always dismissed that idea as pure foolishness; you're essentially handing people a roadmap to your vulnerabilities, and most folks will just use that intel to manipulate you... But honestly, I feel like I’m hitting a breaking point, so I suppose I’ll try laying it all out here, if only because maybe it truly might help..
I don't have any friends left, so I find myself typing this out to strangers on the internet... It probably sounds pathetic, but I made a promise to myself to give this a shot, just in case.. So, here goes..
I'm 24 now, but the downward spiral really started when I was 12. Before that, life was actually decent—I had friends, and my parents were relatively normal! But since we were refugees, the old folks decided it was time to move back to where we lived before the war broke out. They kept telling us how wonderful and beautiful that place was, so I actually looked forward to the move...
That optimism didn't last long; the town was a ghost town, really. Most people there were either tiny children or stuck in that awkward 25-to-25 age bracket. There were only two girls my age in the whole village, and I used to hang out with them until my brother started seeing one of them—then suddenly, I was persona non grata... It didn't bother me much at the time, though, because I preferred playing soccer with my brother's crowd..
In sixth grade, I managed to make some girlfriends, though we mostly just saw each other at school since they lived in the next town over. A couple of years passed, and by eighth grade, my parents let me stay over at a friend's house occasionally, and vice versa. But then my best friend developed a crush on my brother. I thought it was great and tried to play matchmaker, but that blew up in my face. She ended up turning the entire social circle against me, leaving me completely isolated...
Back then, I was dating David, who was 18, so I hung out with his group of older guys, which provided at least a little bit of solace... Around that time, my grandmother fell ill and was bedridden. Since my parents were working, the responsibility of feeding her, cleaning her, and everything else fell on me—both before and after school. I was incredibly close to her, so losing her was a massive shock to my system. Following her death, my health took a hit, and I was even being sent to see a psychologist on a weekly basis!!
I broke things off with Darren, but I immediately started seeing Drake. Things seemed to stabilize for a moment, but then my mother spiraled into alcoholism, and my father followed suit. It turned into a cycle of constant, nightly fighting, and my brother and I would often flee the house just to escape the noise..
About eighteen months later, I ended things with Drake and started dating Anthony. When I turned 17, our parents announced they were getting a divorce. We weren't shocked; it felt like it was just a matter of time. My brother was 18 then, so he decided to go with Dad, while I stayed with Mom. At the time, she had a lover, so we moved in with him. I hated it—it was just one cramped room where the three of us slept. I felt like such a burden that I told Mom I wanted to move back to the old house in the village; it was closer to my school, and it would give her some privacy. She agreed, mainly because since I was 13, I’d been doing all the cooking, cleaning, and basic adulting anyway. I moved back, but my mother never stopped drinking. To make matters worse, Anthony became incredibly controlling; he forbade me from seeing the one true friend I had made in high school. It actually escalated to physical altercations twice. I tried to end it, but he wouldn't stop stalking me, knowing I lived alone and had nobody to turn to for help (Dad and my brother were present during one of those fights and didn't lift a finger—they claim they didn't want to get involved in my business).. I fell into a deep depression and started using food to numb the frustration; I ballooned up to 270 pounds..
After I finished school, my mother blindsided me with news that she was pregnant. For a split second, I was happy, thinking maybe this would be the thing that finally makes her quit drinking, but of course, it didn't. She kept drinking, and the baby was born two months premature—but even then, the alcoholism didn't stop. I fought with her constantly about it, but nothing changed. Her partner, my stepfather, is an addict too, so he couldn't care less about the baby or my mother. In the first two years of her life, the little one spent more time in the hospital than at home. Eventually, they asked me to move back in to help watch the baby while they worked. I agreed, partly for the sake of the child and partly to finally get away from Anthony... And it worked. I found a new boyfriend who is from a major city—he's wonderful. We dated for a few months, and then he moved into the apartment where I was living and helping raise the little girl. He’s given up a lot to be with me; back home, he has a house, a car, and his father owns a successful business. He keeps trying to convince me to move back to the city with him. But I can't. Not because of my sister. I love my sister more than anything, and I can't leave her at the mercy of my mother and stepfather. My mom doesn't cook, she doesn't clean—her place is a total pigsty—she's perpetually drunk, and she has zero interest in caring for the baby. And my stepfather? He's gone 24/7, constantly avoiding any responsibility, even though he keeps insisting how much he loves her.
I recently moved out to a house in the countryside—it’s peaceful, mostly—and we had this whole agreement where the little one would spend two weeks with me and two weeks with them. But now, they’re only taking her for a single week at a time, and honestly, she doesn't even want to go to their place anymore. It drives me absolutely insane—this sheer refusal on their part to actually step up and care for her, to just *spend time* with her... and yet, their negligence is basically holding my entire life hostage. I am more than ready to take full custody and raise her properly, the way any child should be raised. Right now, I’m living 186 miles away from my boyfriend because our finances were becoming completely unmanageable—he actually had to move out because of these idiots who clearly didn't realize that making a child is one thing, but actually raising one is a whole different story...
I’m at a total loss. I keep thinking how much easier everything would be if we could just head to Chicago and live as a normal, cohesive family. I know I can never truly replace her mother—and I’m not even trying to—but I want her to feel like she belongs somewhere. I don't want her sitting there during Christmas listening to her father tell her Santa isn't real, or that he doesn't celebrate, or that there's no point in decorating the tree... and then having to deal with him getting drunk because the festivities bother him while she just sits there, forced to watch and listen to it all. My dad keeps telling me to look out for myself—that by keeping her here, I'm just throwing my best years away and carrying my mother's baggage.
But what about the child? Am I supposed to just abandon her and go live my life? Am I actually losing my mind for staying here and putting my own life on hold? I've thought about calling Child Protective Services, but I fear the little one would be the one to suffer most from that. I just don't know what to do anymore... I feel like I'm reaching a breaking point.
What should I do? Does anyone have any actual, decent advice? 🙂