u/Fabulous-Team-9586

When I was 12, I had a medical emergency (stroke) that had a lot of side effects (paralysis, speech loss, damaged brain, etc.) and required intensive treatments (steroids, chemo, you name it). The summer I got sick somehow became an opportunity for my grandma. She complained when my brother chose to stay with me at the hospital instead of visiting her beach house which was two hours from the hospital. She told her waiters about it, which I learned the following summer when I went to one of the restaurants and the waiter was telling me about things I was doing during my two-month stay at the hospital. Not only did I not want these strangers to know these incredibly intimate details about my life; I didn't even know them myself. I was fading in and out of consciousness, hooked up to tubes and having to communicate by pointing at words on a piece of paper, and my grandma's waiter was more aware of it than I was. For my 13th birthday, she got me a smartwatch. At the time, I had to get a lot of MRIs (about 15 during my first two months in the hospital, then around 4-6 times each year). These MRIs were really difficult for me at first (I still have panic attacks during almost every single one, even 8 years later), and since one of them was only a few days before my birthday, my parents decided that I could open my smartwatch after the MRI. My grandma crashed out because she wanted to "see me open her present" when she got there, and insisted on getting me something else instead so that she could see it.

Now, she's getting on in her years and my family is starting to be like "even though she's selfish and has made mistakes, she loves you and she's not gonna be here much longer so you should be nicer to her." I don't go out of my way to be mean to her, I just don't treat her like royalty. I essentially treat her like I would if she was any other person in the world, because that's what she is to me. I watched her treat everyone else like shit, but shower me and my brother with affection and expensive gifts because we were her only grandchildren. Given the way she's treated me and others in times of need, AITAH for not respecting my grandma?

When I was 12, I had a medical emergency (stroke) that had a lot of side effects (paralysis, speech loss, damaged brain, etc.) and required intensive treatments (steroids, chemo, you name it). The summer I got sick somehow became an opportunity for my grandma. She complained when my brother chose to stay with me at the hospital instead of visiting her beach house which was two hours from the hospital. She told her waiters about it, which I learned the following summer when I went to one of the restaurants and the waiter was telling me about things I was doing during my two-month stay at the hospital. Not only did I not want these strangers to know these incredibly intimate details about my life; I didn't even know them myself. I was fading in and out of consciousness, hooked up to tubes and having to communicate by pointing at words on a piece of paper, and my grandma's waiter was more aware of it than I was. For my 13th birthday, she got me a smartwatch. At the time, I had to get a lot of MRIs (about 15 during my first two months in the hospital, then around 4-6 times each year). These MRIs were really difficult for me at first (I still have panic attacks during almost every single one, even 8 years later), and since one of them was only a few days before my birthday, my parents decided that I could open my smartwatch after the MRI. My grandma crashed out because she wanted to "see me open her present" when she got there, and insisted on getting me something else instead so that she could see it.

Now, she's getting on in her years and my family is starting to be like "even though she's selfish and has made mistakes, she loves you and she's not gonna be here much longer so you should be nicer to her." I don't go out of my way to be mean to her, I just don't treat her like royalty. I essentially treat her like I would if she was any other person in the world, because that's what she is to me. I watched her treat everyone else like shit, but shower me and my brother with affection and expensive gifts because we were her only grandchildren. Given the way she's treated me and others in times of need, AITA for not respecting my grandma?

When I was 12, I had a medical emergency (stroke) that had a lot of side effects (paralysis, speech loss, damaged brain, etc.) and required intensive treatments (steroids, chemo, you name it). My family was present, but it essentially just felt like rubbing salt in a VERY open and massive wound.

My mom: I don't want to criticize her (or anyone) too harshly because she was no more prepared for it than me or anyone else, and she did so so much for me during that time, but it still definitely went on to affect me. As a concerned mother, she was much more worried about my physical state (making sure I was at my appointments, not getting sick, not behind in school) than my emotional state. She often tells me that the stroke was probably because I ate too much sugar or inflammatory foods and basically daily criticizes what I eat under the pretext of "do you want to have another stroke?" When I was a sophomore/junior in high school, I had a pretty terrible falling out with my best friend, after she repeatedly joked that she wished my stroke killed me. I frequently had to leave class to talk to my school therapist (who I saw weekly in addition to my personal AND group therapist) or go home early. Once, during a particularly severe breakout that made her call my mom and WALK ME TO THE CAR, my mom told me in the car ride home that a student at my brother's university had died in a nasty skiing accident, and I should be grateful that wasn't me.

My dad: I honestly don't have many specific notes about him because I didn't spend nearly as much time with him as my mom or my brother. I spent almost all of my days with my mom driving to appointments, while my dad was at work. He was certainly not an especially comforting person during that time and said his fair share of harmful things (he thought my aforementioned best friend had a point), but didn't really have enough of a role in my life at the time to influence it negatively (or I guess to make an already really shitty time, worse).

My brother: Again, I want to be clear that I don't think he or anyone is necessarily to blame, but it certainly impacted me. When I first got sick he was only 14, and suddenly his little sister was getting attention from every which way and he got none. He was understandably resentful and very moody that first year or so. He blamed me for him having no friends and living in a town he hated, because we had to move after I got sick. He would aggressively run away from me or cut in front of me when he was mad, since he knew I couldn't run or move very well. He also refused to believe when I was diagnosed with PTSD, since I wasn't a veteran. Honestly, he was as mean to me as he always was, as an older brother, but I was incredibly vulnerable at the time and already had enough on my plate.

My grandma: The reason I'm writing this post and the only one who hasn't acknowledged my pain or her wrongdoings. The summer I got sick somehow became an opportunity for her. She complained when my brother chose to stay with me at the hospital instead of visiting her beach house which was two hours from the hospital. She told her waiters about it, which I learned the following summer when I went to one of the restaurants and the waiter was telling me about things I was doing during my two-month stay at the hospital. Not only did I not want these strangers to know these incredibly intimate details about my life; I didn't even know them myself. I was fading in and out of consciousness, hooked up to tubes and having to communicate by pointing at words on a piece of paper, and my grandma's waiter was more aware of it than I was. For my 13th birthday, she got me a smartwatch. At the time, I had to get a lot of MRIs (about 15 during my first two months in the hospital, then around 4-6 times each year). These MRIs were really difficult for me at first (I still have panic attacks during almost every single one, even 8 years later), and since one of them was only a few days before my birthday, my parents decided that I could open my smartwatch after the MRI. My grandma crashed out because she wanted to "see me open her present" when she got there, and insisted on getting me something else instead so that she could see it.

Anyway, this is a really long-winded way of saying that I think there is nothing I can do now, because what is done is done. Everything already happened. At the time, I was learning who I was and how to live, and that time was filled with pain, trauma, and sickness. And so, now that I'm an adult, that's who I've learned to be. I isolate myself as much as I can because when I used to reach out for help, I was belittled and shunted off. The times that I curled up into a ball in my own bed and sobbed for hours were much more predictable and dependable than having to (try to) explain the complex way that I was reeling to my family. It feels presumptuous to say, but after enduring so many things that were out of my control, one after another, for years, I didn't and don't want to take the chance anymore. I hope this wasn't confusing, or doesn't come across as "boohoo my life is so bad everyone should pity me".

I feel like a toddler who hasn't yet grown out of my ego-centrism, but I'm twenty and it's been eight years since I was diagnosed with PTSD. I do, of course, understand why I made everything about my trauma at the beginning; I was twelve, actively undergoing chemotherapy, paralysis, etc. But I still think I handled it better then, when I was twelve, than I do now. For the past two years I've basically cried every single day, often for hours. I'm somehow able to relate almost any sad event to my own trauma, and work myself into a crash-out. Literally any time I see a video about some sort of medical issue (cancer, Alzheimer's, etc.), I start sobbing uncontrollably for the next couple hours, even though my trauma is nothing to what they had to deal with. I feel like I'm trying so hard to hold on to this one thing that happened nearly a decade ago, even though everyone else has moved on.

I feel like a toddler who hasn't yet grown out of my ego-centrism, but I'm twenty and it's been eight years since I was diagnosed with PTSD. I do, of course, understand why I made everything about my trauma at the beginning; I was twelve, actively undergoing chemotherapy, paralysis, etc. But I still think I handled it better then, when I was twelve, than I do now. For the past two years I've basically cried every single day, often for hours. I'm somehow able to relate almost any sad event to my own trauma, and work myself into a crash-out. Literally any time I see a video about some sort of medical issue (cancer, Alzheimer's, etc.), I start sobbing uncontrollably for the next couple hours, even though my trauma is nothing to what they had to deal with. I feel like I'm trying so hard to hold on to this one thing that happened nearly a decade ago, even though everyone else has moved on.

I feel like a toddler who hasn't yet grown out of my ego-centrism, but I'm twenty and it's been eight years since I was diagnosed with PTSD. I do, of course, understand why I made everything about my trauma at the beginning; I was twelve, actively undergoing chemotherapy, paralysis, etc. But I still think I handled it better then, when I was twelve, than I do now. For the past two years I've basically cried every single day, often for hours. I'm somehow able to relate almost any sad event to my own trauma, and work myself into a crash-out. Literally any time I see a video about some sort of medical issue (cancer, Alzheimer's, etc.), I start sobbing uncontrollably for the next couple hours, even though my trauma is nothing to what they had to deal with. I feel like I'm trying so hard to hold on to this one thing that happened nearly a decade ago, even though everyone else has moved on.

Ever since I was a child, I’ve been a pretty sensitive kid. It’s not like I grew up in an unsafe environment or anything that might have caused it, to my knowledge. Loud noises make me very uncomfortable and always have (concerts, fireworks, cafeterias, etc.), and I have misophonia. Since I can remember, I have been scared of 90% of the movies that exist—watching the first 30 minutes of Knives Out caused me to cry for at least two hours after—and look up almost every movie I watch to either know when to look away or whether I just shouldn’t watch it at all. I also get very stressed about medical procedures (a lot of anticipatory anxiety and sometimes hysterical during procedures).

My boyfriend and I have been dating for about 1.5 years. We met on Tinder lol but before we could have an IRL date, he went to Argentina for a semester and I went back to uni. So the first four months of our relationship was through FaceTimes and virtual dates. We had some good moments, but he generally wasn’t the best boyfriend during that time (something he’s confessed to). Since the legal drinking age is only 18 in Argentina, he was able to legally drink for the first time and certainly did that. Up to three or four nights a week consisted of him going to the club/bar with his friends and no communication at all while he was out, and when he finally got home (as late as 4-5am) he’d call me absolutely hammered on the bathroom floor or something. The cherry on top was on his second to last night, when one of his friends who lived in Argentina kissed him, he kissed her back. When I found out, I was really devastated but did decide to give him one more chance. However, I can’t erase the first four months of our relationship from my memory, and it drives me crazy. When he’s with his friends, my chest tightens and I start aggressively sobbing more often than not, even though he has completely changed from last year, and doesn’t even drink anymore. I get so angry with him and jealous of his friends (even his male friends, when he himself is a straight male). Obviously this isn’t a good way to live and I wish I wasn’t like this, but I don’t know how to change it.

Ever since I was a child, I’ve been a pretty sensitive kid. It’s not like I grew up in an unsafe environment or anything that might have caused it, to my knowledge. Loud noises make me very uncomfortable and always have (concerts, fireworks, cafeterias, etc.), and I have misophonia. Since I can remember, I have been scared of 90% of the movies that exist—watching the first 30 minutes of Knives Out caused me to cry for at least two hours after—and look up almost every movie I watch to either know when to look away or whether I just shouldn’t watch it at all. I also get very stressed about medical procedures (a lot of anticipatory anxiety and sometimes hysterical during procedures).

My dad has been taking cannabis gummies for the past several years, which my mom has no knowledge of. As far as she knows, the only time he ever took an edible was with her and her cousin. For the record, I have nothing wrong with him taking edibles as I’m a very regular user as well, but I think my mom would be devastated if she knew my dad was deliberately lying to her. I guess my question is, should we tell her? Or force our dad to? As it is, they are talking about divorce and are sleeping in separate rooms; does my mom still have a right to know or is it not worth it?

I have a chronic illness which causes me to spend a large chunk of times in appointments at the hospital. Usually I don't mind, because it's only about half an hour from my house. However, I got a summer job that requires me to live with my grandmother, which is about two hours from the hospital. I intended to make the treacherous drive today in the pouring rain, only made it about twenty minutes before I impulsively pulled off at my friend's exit. I didn't want to go home, because my grandma is extremely inquisitive, and would chew me out for rescheduling the appointment.

This is the third appointment I've cancelled this summer, because the two hour drive has just seemed so daunting. I try to numb myself as much as I can, but I obviously can't do that when I'm driving. But even years before I ever touched any substances, I was too depressed to do anything. I feel like I've been a shadow of myself since the diagnosis, and the only time I can remotely attempt to escape my depression is when I'm stoned or drunk.

So I just stayed at my friend's until it would be a reasonable time to get home, and lied to my grandma's face about where I was. She also told me she told my dad about the appointment (she's the type of person to text him to let him know I breathed at 12:51), so now I have to keep up this lie to multiple people.

i’m really lonely and i think i’m not a terrible person but i’m just so shy and awkward and can’t really make friends.

i (F20) have been working at this high end resort in the retail shop for a little over a month now. this was my first job at a retail store so i made some mistakes as i was learning, so i think she’s not my biggest fan. my coworker who i’ll call annie (who i work with for basically all my shifts) is my age, but much better at her job and super outgoing, so my boss loves her. today, annie was stressing because she was going to have dinner with her boyfriend’s extended family tonight. i wanted to comfort her, so i said “well, like, the second time i met my boyfriend’s grandma i greened out”. my boss didn’t know what greening out meant, so i explained to her, basically outing myself as a stoner (which is very hushed up around here). i thought i was good because she didn’t really say anything, but at the end of my shift after annie left she said, “i doubt you’ve worked that many jobs since you’re young, but you should never say how high you are. i could have had you written up for that. never talk about that or be high on the clock.” i was mortified and genuinely wanted to burst into tears. in my defense, i thought that since we talk about drinking a lot, and annie has shown us her fake i.d.’s it wasn’t a big deal, but yikes!!
TL;DR: i told my boss about the time i greened out and she was really mad.

i (F20) have been working at this high end resort in the retail shop for a little over a month now. this was my first job at a retail store so i made some mistakes as i was learning, so i think she’s not my biggest fan. my coworker who i’ll call annie (who i work with for basically all my shifts) is my age, but much better at her job and super outgoing, so my boss loves her. today, annie was stressing because she was going to have dinner with her boyfriend’s extended family tonight. i wanted to comfort her, so i said “well, like, the second time i met my boyfriend’s grandma i greened out”. my boss didn’t know what greening out meant, so i explained to her, basically outing myself as a stoner (which is very hushed up around here). i thought i was good because she didn’t really say anything, but at the end of my shift after annie left she said, “i doubt you’ve worked that many jobs since you’re young, but you should never say how high you are. i could have had you written up for that. never talk about that or be high on the clock.” i was mortified and genuinely wanted to burst into tears. in my defense, i thought that since we talk about drinking a lot, and annie has shown us her fake i.d.’s it wasn’t a big deal, but yikes!!
TL;DR: i told my boss about the time i greened out and she was really mad.

i wasn’t really a child, but i can hardly remember my childhood anymore. when i was 12, i had three strokes which had some pretty major effects. on the physical side, i lost my speech and was completely paralyzed on the right side of my body and i also forgot how to eat. on the medical side, i don’t even know where to start. i got about fifteen mri’s over the course of the summer which uncovered a lot of previously undiagnosed problems. the stroke was caused by my autoimmune disease, vasculitis. they also discovered a heart defect which meant i needed to get a lot of ekg’s. i had to get chemotherapy (cytoxan) which caused me to be violently sick for about three days. i was in the hospital for two months where every day was the same; occupational therapy, physical therapy to relearn how to walk, speech therapy to relearn to talk and eat. i was so excited to get out of the hospital (i schemed to get out two days before my discharge date, but my parents figured it out). i was supposed to start 7th grade at a new school in a new state, but i had so many appointments every day that i was essentially a part-time student and a full-time patient. for the first couple months, i had one of the 7th grade teachers teach me one-on-one so i didn’t fall too behind in school. one day i had to get the infusions from 7:30am-5pm, then go straight to middle school with an anti-vomit pill and ginger ale. another time i had gotten the infusions on friday, then spent the weekend unable to keep down more than a tablespoon of water. i woke up on monday morning, threw up in the bathroom and then drove with my mom to physical therapy. the first time i cried tears of joy, i was 11 years and 11 months old and saquon barkley was just drafted by the new york giants. the second time i cried tears of joy i was 12 years and 7 months old and was told i was finally done with my chemo. i lost the last few years of my childhood to procedures and wires and only my mom for company. now i’m 20 and i haven’t been able to use my right hand for 8 years and everyone tells me how proud of me they are. from the outside, i think i seem pretty normal. i’m a mathematical economics student at a “little ivy” and have a long-term boyfriend who is genuinely the man of my dreams. but i’m miserable and spend every day grieving even though it’s been 8 years. i spend hours every day just sobbing in a ball on my bed. i look at pictures from the hospital or watch videos of sick people and everything just comes flooding right back.

anyway, i apologize for the slew of words i just wrote. i wanted to hash out the past 8 years of my life but have been avoiding it because it feels daunting to try to even remember the past 1 year lol.

i have extremely low libido and don't generally enjoy having sex. i've been with my boyfriend for almost 1.5 years (a lot of long distance) and it's not that i don't like having sex with him, i just don't really think about it. we're still very intimate and cuddle, makeout, etc. but the idea of sex with anyone doesn't excite me very much. i've been on ssri's for about 4 years and sexually active the past 2, so i've wondered if my low libido could be a result of that.

it’s not the most serious post, but i may be the buttface. mother’s day was sunday, so i spoke to my mother and thanked her for everything that she does, but i forgot to call my dad’s mom (my paternal grandmother). she’s the type of person to tell you when she expected something and her expectations fell short, and sent a passive aggressive text to my brother and i thanking him for remembering to call her. i told her that i was in the middle of finals (this is true) and i apologized for not calling her. she said i could call her yesterday, but i didn’t really want to so i said i’d call her today. i woke up at 7am for an 8am exam, so i was pretty exhausted by the time i was done. i took a nap at noon, so when my alarm went off at 1 to call her, i was in the middle of my rem stage. i called her and it was pretty much her asking how i did on my exams (which, i’m in college; not well) and telling me things i should do. i started yawning a lot because i wanted to go back to bed, and she said her jewish goodbye which was taking ages, so i just expedited the process. so, aitbf?

edit: i'm not sure if this changes anything, but i figured i'd explain why i don't have the most respect for her. she is an extremely self-centered person who treats the working class as though they're dirt at the bottom of her shoes. a few examples i can think of: 1) our waitress asked how her food was and she said it was "vile", 2) she demanded a refund for a suite at a hotel because the maids hadn't finished cleaning by the time she got there, 3) she complained to the front desk at the same hotel because she saw a maid in the regular elevator, 4) she told all of the waitstaff at the restaurants she went to that i was in the hospital and couldn't talk (i was 12 and didn't find out until the next summer when they were all telling me about things i apparently did while i was in the hospital that i couldn't remember), 5) she got mad at my older brother for choosing to spend his summer with me at the hospital instead of at her beach house.

it’s not the most serious post, but i may be the asshole. mother’s day was sunday, so i spoke to my mother and thanked her for everything that she does, but i forgot to call my dad’s mom (my paternal grandmother). she’s the type of person to tell you when she expected something and her expectations fell short, and sent a passive aggressive text to my brother and i thanking him for remembering to call her. i told her that i was in the middle of finals (this is true) and i apologized for not calling her. she said i could call her yesterday, but i didn’t really want to so i said i’d call her today. i woke up at 7am for an 8am exam, so i was pretty exhausted by the time i was done. i took a nap at noon, so when my alarm went off at 1 to call her, i was in the middle of my rem stage. i called her and it was pretty much her asking how i did on my exams (which, i’m in college; not well) and telling me things i should do. i started yawning a lot because i wanted to go back to bed, and she said her jewish goodbye which was taking ages, so i just expedited the process. so, aita?

edit: i'm not sure if this changes anything, but i figured i'd explain why i don't have the most respect for her. she is an extremely self-centered person who treats the working class as though they're dirt at the bottom of her shoes. a few examples i can think of: 1) our waitress asked how her food was and she said it was "vile", 2) she demanded a refund for a suite at a hotel because the maids hadn't finished cleaning by the time she got there, 3) she complained to the front desk at the same hotel because she saw a maid in the regular elevator, 4) she told all of the waitstaff at the restaurants she went to that i was in the hospital and couldn't talk (i was 12 and didn't find out until the next summer when they were all telling me about things i apparently did while i was in the hospital that i couldn't remember), 5) she got mad at my older brother for choosing to spend his summer with me at the hospital instead of at her beach house, 6) she got mad at my parents for letting me open my 13th birthday present before she got there because I had a 3 hour MRI.