She Was Everything Her Conservative Family Hated
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“I was bi, they were Catholic.
I was also adopted, so they didn’t want my demons to infect their ‘real’ daughter.
They tried to send me back after they had her.
A week after my 17th birthday, they kicked me out when I said I wanted to study sciences and maths instead of the ‘proper’ things for girls, like nursery care or nursing.”
Her Weight Was Always An Issue With Her Mother
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“My mom is superficial. I was a chunky kid (and still chunky as an adult), and that wouldn’t work for her.
My parents were separated and I switched back and forth between their houses throughout the week. So, after heavily restricting what I could eat at her house, mom started starving me.
Several times, I had to call my dad to bring me food because I was so hungry I couldn’t sleep.
Once, he brought me a box of doughnuts for breakfast. I ate a couple and then slid the box under my bed so she wouldn’t see it and throw them away.
She somehow saw the box under my bed from the doorway and freaked out, calling me white trash and a fatty. ‘You’re trying to bring roaches into my home!’ She pushed me out the door in a tee shirt and underwear in the middle of the night. I had my phone in my hand. I called my friend, she picked me up, and took me to my dad’s where I had to climb through the window to get into my room because he wasn’t home to let me in.”
Their Young Love Really Got Under Her Mom’s Skin
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“Right before I turned 15 years old, I started dating this boy we’ll call him Dale. Of course, I thought Dale was my soulmate. I spent all of my time with him, wanted to marry him, and made plans with him. Of all things, my mom decided that our relationship had become toxic when I announced, about one and a half years into my relationship with Dale, that I didn’t want to go to college to be an artist anymore; I wanted to go to a community college instead and become a nurse, like Dale’s mom. I was forbidden from seeing him after I told my mom. So what did I do? I started sneaking out of the house to see Dale in the middle of the night. I’d tell her I was going out with friends, but I was just seeing Dale. She knew. I came home one day and there were trash bags on the coffee table. She told me to pack up my things and go be with Dale since I was picking him over her. It felt silly to me that she’d made it a ‘her vs. Dale’ thing when it was just young love. My relationship with her suffered indefinitely for that. The interesting thing is, I did what pleased her eventually and went to a four-year college to get a fine arts degree. And a few years after obtaining that, I didn’t want to die poor so I went to a community college to get my nursing degree. I just wasted time and money. Thanks, Mom. Dale is happily married with four kids. I’m divorced with one. I don’t think Dale was my soulmate, but I wonder what might have happened if my mom didn’t get a stick up her butt.”
All Of A Sudden, She Wanted To Be His Strict Mom
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“My mom had a drinking problem from the time I was 9 years old to the time I was 16. She got herself shipped off to mega-rehab when I was 16 (for a full six months), and during that period, I bullied her sister (my then legal-guardian) into supporting me in emancipation proceedings. I had a feeling this was a thing I was going to need.
So, my mom came back, and the miracle of miracles, she stayed sober.
But then she started trying to be my mother. Started trying to tell me what to do.
Now, at this point in my life, I had been taking care of her for a long time. I had been working to mitigate her awful life decisions and working to keep those same decisions from ruining my own life.
Having a drink-addled bimbo that had basically made my life a living NIGHTMARE for seven years tell me I couldn’t do what I wanted was unacceptable.
She’d be like, ‘You can’t stay out late on a school night!’
And I’d be like, ‘It’s called a ‘job.’ Deal. With. It.’
Yeah, it didn’t take long for her to throw me out. She couldn’t handle me being independent, and though I tried to avoid playing my aces, every time she tried to throw down a maternal ultimatum, I’d come back with chapter and verse on nonsense that I’d pulled her through, and she could not stand that.
We were better friends when we were not roomies.”
She Lied About Calling The Store
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“My mom kicked me out one night when I got home from a long workday.
I worked at a video rental store and had to stay late to put up the new releases. She claimed that she had called the store, and they said I wasn’t there, which I know was a lie because there were only two of us in the store that late at night and the other person was right there next to me the whole time.
You know when you get the feeling that something bad is happening? Walking into the house was like that; like going into a dragon’s lair. She screamed at me, called me a floozy, threatened to take my car, and then told me to leave.
I grabbed whatever I could fit in my backpack and slept in my car in the video store parking lot for a week until a friend of mine found out and made me stay on their couch.
My mom proceeded to pretend none of it had happened and told the rest of my family I had moved out of my own free will.
I’d like to say that I rose above it and continued on my straight-A, honest, good girl track but after being kicked out, I immediately turned to partying, drinking, and other bad girl behavior.”
She Was More Into His Money Than His Family
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“My dad married a woman who wasn’t fond of him having kids. She was the gold digger type. I was 16 years old at the time. They told my sister and me that they were going to move away and it was time for us to grow up. They disappeared and I didn’t talk to them for years. I recently started talking to them again, and all is forgiven. Also, I turned out pretty well for a kid alone at 16, and I owe every bit of what I have to the teachers in high school that took me in, paid for field trips, and never let me quit.”
He Couldn’t Get Away From Abusive Father Figures
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“My biological parents had split up when I was only a year old (they weren’t married). My mum got married to my stepdad when I was about 5 years old, and not long after that, we moved to Germany (he was in the military).
My stepdad was physically and verbally abuse throughout a lot of my life. This only began when I was around 8 or 9 years old. It got progressively worse throughout my life.
We moved back to England when I turned 16, and this is when the abuse heated up. He would snap at small things, sometimes even unprovoked.
The final day of it all, I’d given my brother (he was around 9 at the time) my old PS3, as I’d got myself an Xbox. My brother was complaining as the headset didn’t have a charger. Clearly, it had gotten lost at some point. I’d looked for it but couldn’t find it.
I was in my room, minding my own business when my stepdad burst in and started rooting through my stuff, looking for the charger. I complained that he shouldn’t be rooting through my things. He then accused me of stealing the headset. It was a Christmas gift from him and my mother.
The argument resulted in him punching me and pinning me up against a wall. My mother stepped in and I got thrown out the house. Fast forward a day later. I arrived back at my house. My things were packed, aside from anything of worth (TV, games consoles, etc.), and I was told to stay out.
My biological father came to pick me up and I moved halfway across the country, leaving behind friends, girlfriend, college, etc.
After three months living there, it turns out my biological father had a tendency towards being physically abusive, also.
I’d gotten sick of it at this point, so I scraped together what little money I could, and moved into a tiny little flat on my own. I was working ridiculous hours in a warehouse in disgusting conditions, just earning enough to live.
In the span of four months, I’d gone from a perfectly normal 16-year-old living with his parents (admittedly in a dysfunctional and abusive family unit), with a good education, friends, girlfriend, bright future, to living in a hole with no money, no family, no friends, nothing.
I avoided contact with my family after I found out my mother had told my extended family that I’d been physically abusing my siblings (9-year-old brother and 3-year-old sister), and that was the reason they kicked me out. She smeared my name into the dirt to my own family to defend her abusive husband.
I worked my butt off for the next two years. Eventually, I moved in with my cousin and a friend, until my cousin found out our friend had been stealing from him and left. I chose to leave shortly after that and returned to the city that I lived in before I got kicked out of my family’s house.
I now live with my girlfriend of three years, I have a fantastic job, have paid off all the debt that I got into throughout the years on my own. We have a house together and I’ve started to repair the relationship with my mother somewhat.
My stepdad has been in counseling since this all went down. He’s a different person. I will never forgive him for all that he put me through, nor will I trust him completely. But I can at least be civil to him.
My relationship with my mum is a lot better than its been in a while. She’s since apologized for everything that went on and we talked it out.
I haven’t spoken to my biological father since I left about four years ago. He’s never been particularly involved in my life. I’m not exactly his biggest fan.”
He Couldn’t Stand Having Her In His Home, Despite Her Good Behavior
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“My first year of college, I ended up living with my uncle and his wife (girlfriend at the time).
I wasn’t around that side of my family a whole lot growing up, but when they offered me a room at their place, I jumped at the opportunity because I needed it and I got along with them fine, for the most part.
I started school and a few months later, got a job and things were fine for the most part. My uncle is a police officer; one of those, ‘you better respect me, but I’ll disrespect you all I want’ kind of officers, and his wife also worked in the station. He was a big and often boisterous Italian guy; he could be fairly gruff and rude at times, but it wasn’t aimed at me because I wasn’t causing problems and wasn’t troubled. I just went to class and went to work, so I barely had time to be social.
His daughter, on the other hand, was problematic. She was a year younger than me, a senior in high school, and all into drinking and the party scene, and hung out with a bad crowd. She was the typical example of a rebellious cops kid. Needless to say, there was a lot of yelling and arguing. I always felt bad for her because the way she was obviously caused by being yelled at during her entire childhood.
I moved in, and we were mostly fine; he’d occasionally pick at me, but I never made a thing of it. I helped out around the house, did random chores, and focused on my classes and work. Then out of nowhere, he started getting on me about not doing enough around the house and generally not being grateful for what they were doing for me. This confused me quite a bit. I helped out and did what I could. I’d offered to pay rent and help with groceries, but my uncle’s wife declined, saying that they just wanted me to be able on school.
Things went on normal and fine, I tried to be helpful and thankful without being obvious and fake, but one morning as I was leaving for work, my uncle stopped me. He said that he was tired of me being ungrateful and lazy and informed me that I had until the end of my school quarter to leave.
As confused as I was, by that point, I was actually relieved. Things had been steadily going downhill since I’d been there, and I’d never been comfortable there. I was able to figure out a new place and it turned out to be a far better option for me anyway.”
Years After She Got Away, She Still Lived In Fear Of Her Mother
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“My mother had been regularly beating me up for as long as I could remember. And I don’t mean a spanking. I mean with doorknobs, telephones, and broken chairs. I was close to my dad despite my mother’s efforts in trying to turn me against him.
She kicked me out because I didn’t want to go to church. I was about 14 years old. She dragged me by my hair, threw me to the ground, put her knees on my ribs, forced her weight down on me and tried to suffocate me because I told her I wasn’t going to church because I didn’t believe in God.
Then, after she convinced me to go because she beat the stuffing out of me and I couldn’t win, I got in the car and she started driving. She began taking off her rings and bracelets, and I realized she wasn’t done beating me up. So I jumped out of the car and messed myself up on the pavement. She backed up to tell me to get in the car again. I told her I would leave if she hit me one more time. She said, ‘Then leave,’ and drove off.
The thing is, it was 32 degrees below zero outside. She expected me to be on her front lawn by the time she got back home, but I wasn’t. Mostly because she was delusional to think that when I was finally free from her I would go back. I walked to my school, but it was closed. A young couple saw me in front of the school, beat up and crying, and took me to a youth shelter. There I found out she broke two of my ribs and my wrist was broken from throwing myself out of the car.
My mother was a court judge, so a couple of weeks later, I was randomly picked up on the street coming back from school by off-duty police officers. They cuffed me, put me in the back of the car, and drove me to a psychiatric ward. There I found out she told people I was lying about what happened and claimed I did those things to myself. She wanted to intimidate me by showing that ‘she was the boss’ and no one would believe me because she was a ‘good Christian’ and a judge.
I was discharged within five days because the psychiatrists didn’t think I fit the diagnostic criteria for anything other than post-traumatic stress disorder, and agreed I should stay away from her. However, the social workers forced me to go to therapy because of the symptoms I was experiencing.
After that, I spent most of my days afraid of walking the streets by myself because I thought she’d show up out of nowhere to beat me up. She even tried to have me arrested, alleging that I tried to break into her house when I couldn’t even take the train that was headed towards her neighborhood without having a panic attack.
Anyway, that’s what happened when she kicked me out. I haven’t spoken to her in more than 10 years, and don’t plan to and most importantly, do not miss her. My dad was granted custody, and I moved in with him. For the next three years or so, I remember getting scared looking at my bedroom door, thinking someone was going to kick it open to beat the stuffing out of me. It was irrational because there wasn’t a possibility this would happen, but I couldn’t help but feel scared. Even if the door was locked, I thought I wasn’t safe. But as the years passed, I think I got over it better than I expected.”
She Got Kicked Out More Times Than She Could Count
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“I was kicked out of my home so many times from the time I was 14 years old onwards. My mother was a narcissist, and I believe she enjoyed seeing me in pain. She also enjoyed playing the whole, ‘Oh no, my daughter has run away again,’ card even though I never ran away. I was crashing at a friend’s house while in the middle of my high school, and she went to our principal and cried, saying that I ran away and she felt helpless. But in reality, she’d kicked me out for no reason, and I still have no idea why. I wasn’t a bad kid. I had depression, but that was due to the abuse I went through. I was always terrified of what she would do next. When I had my son at 19, she kicked us out in the middle of winter with nowhere to go, and I was stuck at a bus stop, freezing with a baby. We hadn’t even had a fight or anything. She randomly decided I need to get out. She was a cruel person and doesn’t deserve to be called my ‘mum.’ She did tons of cruel things over the years. I could go on and on but I won’t. She is no longer in my life now, it’s better that way.”
Once Her Mom Discovered Her Lesbian Nature, The Abuse Got Worse
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“This happened last week. My parents were physically and emotionally abusive to me, so I decided I was going to leave, but I had to leave secretly. The morning of the day I was going to leave, I let my friends know that I was going to come to campus at a certain time. Well, my mom took away my phone and beat me because she found out that I was a lesbian. She left red marks and bruises on my face and neck from her scratching, choking, and beating. There was also a stab mark of a pencil on the side of my torso as well. My friends noticed that I wasn’t coming to campus, and they couldn’t contact me, so they called the police. The police came and saw the physical marks, so they told me to go back with my friends. My family apologized for the abuse but told me that if I left now, then I could never come back and that they’d disowned me. So I left because that is what I wanted. They canceled my cell service and sent my brother to tell me that I was not a part of the family anymore. So, I got kicked out of the family. I’m dealing with a lot of depression, I might even kill myself. I want to go back, and I told them that, but they are ignoring me and even got a temporary restraining order against me for ‘harassment.'”
She Had A Real Life Wicked Stepmother
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“My stepmom and I never got along. She and my dad have been together since I was 2 years old. I saw my mom on the weekends, and my dad and stepmom had me during the week. I hated being there. It was the classic ‘my stepmom hates me because I didn’t come out of her’ situation. Her two other kids were treated far better than me. Anyway, the summer after high school, things came to a head and she kicked me out. I didn’t care. I could just go to my mom’s house. After a couple weeks, my stepmom called and invited me back, and for whatever reason, I went back to try and smooth things over. I was there for maybe 15 minutes. My mom called my cell phone to check in and make sure things were cool between my stepmom and me. I said it was fine and hung up. Not 30 seconds later, my stepmom walked into my room and asked who I was talking to. I told her my mom was checking in on me. She started to mock me and said, ‘Oh, mommy had to check in on her baby.’
I stood up, said, ‘Forget this,’ took my key off my key ring, and never looked back. I was 18 then, I’m 31 now. I haven’t spoken to her in years, and recently have gone no contact with my dad since having a son of my own and realizing how messed up I was treated by both my dad and my stepmom.”
She Said She Accepted Him, But That’s Not How She Acted
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“I was 18 years old when my mom finally confronted me about being gay. She rooted through my things, opened my mail, and figured it out. At first, she said it was okay, but immediately after that, became incredibly judgmental about anything I did, from what music I listened to when I picked my classes for college.
I was not allowed to go with the family on a vacation to New England one summer and when she got back, she was just hostile and mean, always trying to find ways to put me down. She always came close to saying it was because I was gay, but never got to that point. She would say she was accepting but say things like I needed hormone therapy and I was going to suffer my whole life.
Anyway, this put me into a depression because I was still coming to terms with being gay. Plus she told my immediate family, my extended family, and she started being mean to me when we had a nice relationship before.
One day when I was struggling with college, she said I could go to Florida and live with my grandpa or join the army. I picked Florida. She gave me a plane ticket and some suitcases. My dad gave me a ride to the airport.
Things between us only got worse, and it’s vile and bitter and I haven’t even seen a member of my family in about six years. I’ve moved and changed my phone numbers, but every now and then she’ll make a new email address and send it to my school email to spew some hatred about how I’m a horrible and selfish sociopath who’s also ungrateful.”
He Was Nowhere Near The Perfect Child
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“I was a nightmare to raise. I fought my parents on everything and broke every rule. When I turned 16 years old, they emancipated me and told me to leave.
I found a couple others my age that were emancipated and stayed with one of them for about a month. Eventually, I moved in with my girlfriend, who I married when I turned 18. We divorced five years later.
I now get along decently with both my parents (who divorced shortly after tossing me out) and am now remarried. I made a ton of mistakes and brought it all on myself. But I do think I’m a better person now because of those lessons than I would have been staying with them. Eventually, I would have done something big and ended up behind bars.”
