u/Weak-Pie-3716

When I was 46 I reconnected with "Justine" who I'd known when I was in my early 30's. I was absolutely in love with her, but she was married at the time. She moved across the country, eventually divorced, and when reconnected, she was 36, with three kids, Sasha 18, Kendra 14, and Kelvin 10. I moved to her city for work, arranged to see her, and soon we were inseparable. We were like two peas in a pod.

We married a few months later. Her kids and I got along okay. They all had active lives, the oldest was a budding novelist, and the younger two were into Shakespear. Smart bunch.

When we married, I wanted us to move to a bigger place, but she didn't want to uproot them, even to move two blocks away. Even though her oldest was heading for college in another state. I wasn't comfortable about "moving in" to "their" home, something about it didn't sit well with me. But I said fine, if that's what she wants. But I asked if we could make some changes to our bedroom, some new furniture (which I paid for) and repaint it. I also built her a massive bookcase for all the books she had that were taking up her bedroom. I thought her kids might enjoy helping me, but they all refused. Again, fine.

Soon after we married, her kids started changing. They became possessive of her, and would try to give me instructions on how to speak to their mother. I'd come up from the basement, ask Justine if she needed me to bring up the boxes, and Sasha (now 20) would yell in my face, "She's on the phone!" I'd dismissively wave her off and do as I pleased. I'd ask my wife if she needed _______ and Kendra (16) would yell "No she doesn't." This business of letting her kids answer for her was more than I'd tolerate, and no matter how many times I said, "I didn't ask you," it continued. Whenever I spoke to Justine about it, she'd either dismiss it, or say, "I've talked them about it, and I told them that......" Whatever she said to them went nowhere.

Her kids also didn't like that I'd been added as an emergency contact, or that we went together to the parent-teacher conferences. Or that we went to see them in the school play and sat together. They wanted their mother to be there without me.

If we ever planned anything just for ourselves, just to do grownup things together, her kids would be sure to give me shit beforehand. Like, "How about telling my mother how beautiful she looks!" And I don't mean as a joke, she'd say it with a hard stare, and loud. I'd respond with, "Excuse me, nobody's talking to you." Then Sasha and the rest of them would start verbally attacking me, and I'd turn away, doing my best to ignore them, and Justine would get upset and say, "Alright, all of you, no fighting."

Eventually, I started saying, "Please direct that statement to them, you and I are equal to each other."

Soon I realized that my wife and I somehow were not equal in the house. I was essentially a side character, not half of two adults in the home.

The final straw was when Justine was in the hospital for gallbladder surgery. Sasha came home from college, and at the hospital, the kids tried to bulldoze me when it came to everything. They tried to get the doctor to give them the info and bypass me. Fortunately everything went fine, but they wanted to keep her there another day. When I got back to the hospital the next morning, I found that Sasha had taken them out of school at 10am, which nobody authorized, and I immediately reported it to the school.

When I got to the room, her kids started telling me to get out of there, they wanted to be alone with their mother, and I motioned them all to come outside. I told Sasha never to do that again, and told the kids to meet me at the entrance in five minute while I got the car. They refused to come out, and I asked security to escort them out into the parking lot. They got into the car, and cursed at me the whole way back to their school. When we got there, I spoke to the school secretary, and it turned out that Justine had put down Sasha's name as being authorized to pick them up. Justine never told me about that.

Back at the hospital, the doctor told me that she'd developed a urinary tract infection and would need to be there longer. I suggested that she ask her mother to come and stay at the house, so someone would be there with the kids. We've had some problems lately in the area and we're not keen on having the kids at home alone after sundown. Multiple cars in the driveway seem to deter troublemakers. I said we could have Sasha camp out with Kendra.

I went home to get Sasha's room ready (she's a slob, and I wanted at least for her mother to have clean sheets). No need to contact the grandmother, Sasha had already done that by the time I called and Joyce said she was on her way. Again, Sasha and Kelvin gave me crap for addressing her mother by her first name. The rest of the evening was a disaster with the kids reaming me out for not being at the hospital. I restated the facts: visiting hours had ended, and even if not, they were not to be home alone at night.

Sasha wouldn't clean her room in preparation for her grandmother using it.

I took an early shift, so I could be out off-duty by 11am when the visiting hours opened. When I came home to change first, Sasha was guarding the bedroom door, and said, "You can't go in there!"

I ignored her, and had to gently move her aside because she wouldn't budge. In the bedroom, Justine was in bed, and her mother was trying to get her to drink something. Her mother looked at me annoyed, and said, "Could you please wait outside!"

With Sasha yelling, "get out, you're not supposed to be here!" I motioned my MIL out into the hallway, and questioned her. She said Justine was discharged from the hospital that morning. I said, "I want to see whatever papers and prescriptions they gave her," and MIL made a scene. When I called to find out what was going on, they said her mother persuaded them to discharge her early, over the doctor's objections.

I wouldn't allow MIL to camp out in our bedroom, and had to push my way past Sasha to change the bedsheets to MIL could use her room. Multiple times, I had to remind them that with their mother unable to get out of bed, I would be making the decisions regarding her care. Taking care of her 24 hours a day for the next few days while doing my best to ignore her kid's verbal abuse was a stress. Her mother was no help with anything except babysitting, and I had to constantly say, "Mind your own business, this isn't your home." More than once Sasha and Kelvin got in my face over that, and we almost came to blows. Kendra was doing school activities a lot of the time, so that was one problem I didn't have.

When all was well and over, I sat her down, and asked what she wanted for us. Would she tell the kids, "He's my husband, and when I'm in the hospital, he makes the decisions around the house," so that we'd be seen as equals? Would she tell Sasha, "Don't you ever tell him what to do around here, because you're not in charge." Was she willing for us to live together in a manner where I wouldn't be a satellite orbiting their lives?

She couldn't give me a straight answer, and I moved out that afternoon while she was out. She called me in a fury, because she was supposed to go on a seminar lecture tour in a week, and had no way to arrange for anyone to take the kids. I told her to invite her mother back. I'm filing for divorce. There aren't any combined assets to split.

I know I did the best option, but has anyone else had something like this happen?

After my "benefactor" went off with his skinheads to wherever, I located a Pittsburgh Lubavitch outreach center and got them to lend me money for Amtrak back to New York State and LIRR. When I got to the house, it was 10am and my parents were obviously at work and my sister at school. I located the garage key I'd buried, got into the garage, found the house keys, entered the house through the garage, and the alarm went off. The alarm code didn't work, so I figured they'd changed it. I made a bee line for the fridge and gorged myself, then went to my father's desk to get my passport, in case the cops showed up. It wasn't there. They had photos of me, so I could prove I lived there. But I did find letters from attorneys, hate mail, and letters from a foster care agency. About a kid named Jordan Brown, and xeroxes of letter my parents sent them, saying that I was in boarding school and was home once a month. My parents had never mentioned any interest in taking in foster kids, so this was a bit of a shock to me. The things they told the agency weren't entirely true. We weren't a well-functioning family, and the battles we had were epic. The first letters to the agency would have to have been written right before I left home.

The alarm was still going off, and I read about them taking in a foster kid. I went upstairs to my room, and everything was gone. Not surprised, I expected it to happen. But it was redone, repainted, new bed/desk/dresser, some kid toys on the floor, someone else's clothes in the closet, 4th grader homework of "Jordan Brown" on the desk. I was shocked, but not surprised. I snooped some more, found his photo, as much info on him as I could. The school he went to, and since it was the local public school, I figured he'd be getting home around 3pm. Just then a car pulled up, and a Black woman got out, who I figured must be their housekeeper. They must've fired the previous one. She came in with a key, I introduced myself, she was a little surprised because I'd been mysteriously gone for months, and my parents never mentioned me. I asked her not to tell my parents yet, so I could surprise them. I asked about "Jordan" and how he was adjusting, and she was like, "Oh that boy has no manners, he needs to be thankful he lives in this beautiful house, and your parents let him get away with murder." I asked if she knew where my stuff was moved to, she said there were boxes in the basement.

After I washed, and changed into clothes borrowed from my father's closet, I went digging for my stuff, and found some things I needed. Some gold and silver coins my grandfather had given me, my address book, a stash of money hidden in my closet, my spare keys, and a stamp collection I could sell. Then I went again to my father's desk, and copied down as much info as I could about the lawsuits. Most of them had been thrown out by the judges, and the lawyers claims rejected. I found my old expired passport, my birth certificated, and letters from the "school" about me, plus the phony letters they made me write. I also found letters from therapists and other schools, with hints that my parents had given them false information.

I took a larger backpack, packed up what I had, and left. I went to a store to sell everything (fortunately they didn't question my expired passport or that I was underage, they only needed a fingerprint) and I took an Amtrak to New Hampshire to beg a distant relative to take me in. My goal was to get a GED, get a job, and hold out until I was old enough to enlist in the army.

I think my parents had been planning this "replacement" months in advance. They've never been truthful with me about their reasons, and they divorced a year later. I have no idea what became of Jordan, who was only there for one year. My sister was in 9th grade at the time and never spent any time with him. She says she was blindsided by his arrival.

I (15 at the time) sneaked out at night with three other kids in the winter, 1993, with a kid (I'll call him Jay) who was the weirdest I'd ever encountered. Really serious. He must've had an IQ of 250, given how he persuaded his way through everything.

We hoarded water bottles and whatever food we could sneak, waited until around 1am, and made our way down a dry wash, using a flashlight he'd stolen. We moved all night, in the freezing cold, because (according to him) we'd die of hypothermia if we fell asleep in our inadequate clothes. We made it down to a road, he flagged down a van and got the driver to get us to the nearest town, then came his, "resupplying." He begged some quarters off a conservative-looking woman, called a few people, and this big, scary, White man arrived at the strip mall where we were. He was big, like a biker, really bad-tempered looking, the kind of face that always looks annoyed. He gave Jay some cash, and then Jay says, "Come with me, buy what I tell you, and that's it, don't screw around." We went into Kmart and each bough a change of clothes, cheap backpack, toothbrush, soap, small towel, and dry food. Then two more scary guys came in a van, gave us some food, and told us they were going to put us on Amtrak to Pennsylvania.

The train trip was long, and our food barely held out. When we got to Chicago to change trains, I asked a Hasid Jew to buy us some real food, and told him my parents would pay, just please wait 48 hours to call them. I told him we were heading to Texas (to throw my parents off the trail).

That's where Jay started acting suspicious. He looked at me like he was x-raying my brain, and asked how I knew that guy. I said I didn't, I'm a Jew, we can signal to each other. He gave me an even more suspicious look, and started questioning me about whether my family was in the media, whether I had any connections to the banks, etc. Nope, my family isn't that wealthy.

On the train to Pennsylvania, I wheedled some info out of him. He was from Washington State, his parents were independence fighters (his term for it, and he wouldn't say more) who had gone to prison. He was sent to live with relatives in Arizona, who were government whores, encouraged their daughter to fornicate with dirty men, and wanted homosexuals to be around their sons. I asked why he was willing to travel with a Jew, and he said he tolerated Jews as long as they didn't force their ways on his people.

Once we reached Pittsburgh, he met with another bunch of skinheads and said he was heading to their "town." The two girls who'd gone with us went with them. I have no idea what became of them. I contacted a distant relative who wired me some money so I could eat and buy a ticket back to New York State.

Looking back, I think his parents were in a White supremacist militia (maybe part of Randy Weaver's group?) and he had connections to other Nazi cults throughout the USA, which is how he knew who to call. They probably knew his family's name.

What happened when I returned home is even more bizarre.

I'm 46, never married, no kids. I have two siblings, Vivian (50) and June (40).

Vivian and Stan have a house and 4 kids (Jack, 29 married to Jill23 and just announced they're expecting, Allan26, Calvin23, Ruth20)

June and Justin have w kids (George9, Martha6)

Somehow, along the way, Viv and Stan taught their kids to do absolutely nothing around the house. Or around anybody else's house. When they're at my parents house, her kids will get up after the meal and not help clear the table, as though they have no concept of it. Btw, my BIL, who I detest, won't help clean up unless told to. When they'd show up for a weekend at my parents house, my father would carry in all of their luggage. I used to have to help, until one day I got mad and said, "Stan, if I have to carry in your bags, I'm going to leave." BIL had to do it himself that day, and it ruined his weekend. I write it off to Stan having a father who was a minister, and he grew up in a parsonage, so he never learned to clean or fix anything.

Let me add that my father had to do all of Stan/Viv home repair, because he didn't want them to have to pay someone to do it. Myt father couldn't do it all himself, so I had to help. Over a five year period I did over $10,000 worth of work on the house that I was never paid for. My BIL rewards me by being incredibly terse with us, to the point of rudeness and hostility. On holidays, if we gathered at their home, it was awful. Every time I'd try to speak to my father or mother, he'd bark "WHAT?" at me from across the table. He only stopped when I got fed up on night and barked back, "Stan, I'm not talking to you, I'm talking to my father, and if you yell "what" at me again I am going to leave and not come back." I gave both him and my sister a hard, cold stare.

The last time we were at their home, I spent money to get there, and when I arrived, my parents were unloading food from the car. My mother asked me to bring stuff in, and I said, "You can ask your grandchildren."

I went inside, nobody greeted me, so I went to find my sister. We were talking, and Martha walked up to me and said, "Uncle Jeff, Gram wants you outside." I told her to go ask why, and she came running back and said, "Gram says to get your butt outside and help bring in the bags." I said, "Go tell your grandmother that she has 6 lovely grandchildren who can help, not to mention her son in law, and they can learn to do for others."

Marth came back and said, "Gram says she want you to...." and before she could finish, I said, "Marth, you can go play outside, go have a good time." I, of course, did nothing. Somehow, my mother brought in everything.

Soon, Dad came in, moved his face inches from mine and tried to ask me if I said hello to Vivian. I politely said, "Get out of my face please." Then I added, "By the way, that's none of your business."

My BIL's elderly father showed up, and nobody would help him with his jacket or anything. My father pointed to him and said, "Jeff, go help him....." and I said, "Taking care of the host's father is a job for the host, or his children. Let them learn to do for others."

When it came time for lunch, my mother got too close, put her arm around me, and in a whisper, said, "Here sweety, you can sit next to me." I whispered back, "This is not your home," and sat where I liked. My nephew said, "Jill is sitting there" (she wasn't) and I said, "She can sit on that side of you." He looked like he didn't know what to do. Soon after, I switched seats with BIL's father, because they'd given him a folding chair that was unstable under his weight (trust them to ignore the old guy.)

Throughout the meal, my mother wretched and whined that I wasn't eating enough (I'm on a salt-free diet and have no need to tell anyone). She kept pointing out what I wasn't eating. Until I said, "Ma, do you need something to do?"

I was speaking to my nephew about his new job in a science lab, and my father, feeling left out, kept trying to interrupt and butt in, even though he couldn't follow the conversation. He's a very jealous man, and if he sees me getting attention, he demands I share it with him.

BIL's father wanted some ice, and his wife was getting tired, so I got up to get it. When I sat down again, Jill needed something, and my mother said, "Jeff, go get her the..."

I interrupted with, "She can get it herself."

My mother looked at me with a puzzled squint, and said, "Is something wrong."

"No," and I went back to talking to Allan.

Then she went, "What's wrong? Are you okay? You have a big chip on your shoulder."

I said, "Mother dear, God gave us such a beautiful day, let us rejoice. We should not be having argument and strife." I said it wis a big toothy smile.

"Don't give me that, you've been avoiding me all day, and every time I ask you to....."

"Mother, why ask me, when you have your grandchildren to help you. Look at Ruth, she'd such a big girl now, and I bet she'd love it if you asked her to pitch in."

We had a few more incidents of "No, that's a job for the host's children," and in the piece de resistance, I said, "No, if Jill needs help getting up, let Jack help. he can show everyone what a big boy he is. And by the way, after doing $10,000 worth of unpaid work on this home, I don't owe anyone here anything."

Btw, I don't know why my mother told me to help Jill get up, when she doesn't touch male non-relatives.

I ruined the lunch, and everyone left feeling unhappy.

Am I really a terrible guy?