What Dark SECRET Are You HIDING From Everyone?

So she raised my sister as a single mother at my grandma's house in the eighties. Then she met my father and they started dating and it worked out because they got married in the nineties, moved into a new house, and a short time after that, I was born. She told me never call my sister my half sister, and just pretend all of this doesn't matter, because she's my sister and I'm keeping it that way, And if anyone asks about the ten year age gap, I just tell

them it's a long story. Story two. I'm the spitting image of my grandpa on my dad's side. Both my parents are almost a foot shorter than me, but I'm almost the same height as him. When my mother got sick when I was a kid. My grandpa went to visit her daily for extended periods of time in the hospital. In his final months. She did the same. After he passed. We found out he kept a whole other family on

the side in secret too. Looking back at my dad's military deployment history, it would also be dicey if she could have gotten pregnant by him around the appropriate time. Based on a collection of various hunches, I'm fairly convinced I'm the product of an affair between my mother and supposed grandfather. More disturbingly, this would probably be one of

the most lighthearted revelations about my family. Story three. When I was young, probably around age nine or ten, I was walking home with my dog from a house around the block when he cut the corner and walked diagonally through the yard of this super mean old lady who live at the end of your street. She was in her yard at the time, tending to these really fancy looking rose bushes she had growing in beds along the

border with her neighbor. My dog was a very friendly Golden retriever who didn't even really come near her and certainly didn't do anything threatening, but she sprayed the fun budge out of him with some kind of insecticide or other chemical she was using on her roses. I ran back home with the dog and hosed him off. He coughed a bunch, but seemed otherwise fine. I didn't tell my parents because somehow I thought I was going to get into trouble for letting the dog walk in her yard.

I'm glad I didn't tell them, though, because I decided that night to sneak downstairs, out the half bath window and down the street to her yard, where I cut down every goddamn rose bush I could get my hands on. Story four. I've struggled with disordered eating for at least a decade. It ebbs and flows. I know it's unhealthy, but the toxic part of me loves the feeling of being empty. Several years ago, it was really bad. I was at my lowest weight ever. I had brain fog,

difficulty breathing. When I started eating again, my stomach would get really bloated, even if I only ate a small amount. I gained weight in the last year or so, and my depression and anxiety got really bad for a while. My family thinks I don't want to spend time with them. However, I just wanted to stay home because trying on my clothes and the idea of being in public made me want to terminate myself. It was easier on me intellectually to just stay home. I can feel myself slipping back

into my old disordered eating habits. Unfortunately. Story five. A man broke into my home about ten years ago, well kind of. He knocked. I answered the door, and he pushed his way in. He spoke about the four horsemen of the apocalypse and tried to extort me for protection or he and his brothers of doom would come and terminate me. He was huge, ex navy, if he was to be believed, drunk as hell, hand covered in blood, holding a broken bottle. I was terrified. I told him

to leave. He wouldn't. He was getting aggressive. I told him I would splatter his brains against the wall if he didn't. I didn't have a gun at the time. Anyway, he didn't leave. I went into my kitchen and grabbed a knife and sliced at him a few times. He staggered away, seemingly okay. I assumed he was all right, just wounded a bit. I never saw him again. A neighbor told me days later a man was found dead, some wounds on his arms. I can only guess he

bled out, but I never got questioned. Somehow, there was a lot of blood in and around my house. I lived in a pretty seedy area, so I guess the cops just didn't care. The guy was apparently a repeat criminal. I terminated a man, at least indirectly, and have never told anybody story. Six. When I was younger, I lived with my grandmother. Not long after I turned eighteen, her health started to decline, that sort of decline that you

no means she won't be around for much longer. Over the months, I did my best to take care of her, getting her to the hospital when she needed and other things. We had someone coming every day to help her with things I couldn't well. What my family doesn't know is that the night she passed, I was in the living room watching TV. My dog was in bed with my grandma, and I started to hear him whimper and bark. I knew what was happening. I knew that if I acted,

I could potentially save her. I didn't want to watch her suffer anymore, though, to watch her live with so much pain and unable to do anything for herself anymore. So I made the choice to let her pass before making any calls. She lived ninety two years, and the only regret I have is that she passed a month after I. I would have graduated if I hadn't been kicked out of school, she had been in good enough health at the time to go to my graduation. I

still kicked myself for how stupid I was back then. Edit, I didn't expect this much support. Thanks. I'm not to torn up about letting her pass. I knew it was for the best. She was such a great person. She didn't deserve to live in such a poor manner any longer than she already had. I don't regret what I did. I regret what I had done that got me kicked out of school. That I didn't try and make it to graduation for her. I think I've lived my life so far in a way that she'd be proud of.

Not graduating before she passed is the only regret I really have in this life so far. And I'm thirty five now, so I think I'm doing pretty good. Story seven. It's not my secret, but my mom's and I'm not hiding it from everyone, just the person who it potentially matters to the most. When my mom was in high school in the sixties, she had a long term, serious boyfriend named Jimmy. They were each other's first They were

together for years and were planning on getting married. He went away to college, my mom stayed behind, but they were still together. You know what happened next. He cheated and got the new girl pregnant. He comes home to break the news to my mom. Abortion was not legal at the time. He basically says that he wants to be with my mom, but he has no choice but to marry this other girl. My mom was devastated. Here's the secret. My mom was also pregnant by him, but

hadn't told him yet. She decided she wasn't ever going to tell him. Jimmy went on to marry the other girl and never knew my mom was also pregnant. She told me that she later threw herself down a flight of stairs to cause a miscarriage. My mom actually reconnected with Jimmy during the early days of Facebook. She didn't have an account, but asked me to look for him using mine. He was still married to the same person my mom was married to my dad. They wrote to

each other for a while using my account. Ugh signed their messages saying I love you. My mom passed away a number of years ago. I think about this knowledge I have that Jimmy doesn't this major life event, thing that he doesn't even know happened, that could have changed the trajectory of many lives. I'm certainly not going to tell him. It's not my secret to tell. Edit. There seems to be a part of the story that I didn't make clear enough. My mom had a miscarriage and

never had that baby. It was an intentional miscarriage by throwing herself down the stairs. Jimmy is not my father. Story eight. My wife, her mom, and I bought a house about two years ago. Just from talking to the neighbors, I'd gathered that the family who lived here before had a daughter that was mixed up with the wrong people. We had some random person knock on our door at night saying he needed gas. We are down a long driveway, no way you'd randomly walk up to our house to

ask for help. I think he was looking for the people who used to live here, and then another time, Sunday morning, making pancakes for the family, I get a knock on the door and it's four sheriff's officers saying they received a nine hundred and eleven call that hung up and it was from the house. We don't have a landline, and I assured them my wife and two

year old did not make any call. They mentioned a name of the previous occupants, and I let them know we moved in earlier this year, and they seemed okay with that and left. Anyways, I was doing some yard work and struck up conversation with the neighbor. He saw the police cars and asked what was up. I told him the situation, and he just goes, oh, yeah, that family was messed up. The cops were probably being cautious considering the shooting. What shooting? I ask. He kind of

looks at me with a sad, worried face. The shooting in your house? Wait what I say? Truly baffled. He then proceeds to tell me that about two years before, the father in the house confronted his daughter and boyfriend he didn't like and shot and terminated the boyfriend in the house. Our state doesn't have a disclosure law, so we never knew. I was blown away. All the strange

happenings kind of made sense now. He said the frames of the victim had kind of terrorized them for a while because the police were taking so long to press charges. Slashed tears, midnight fireworks, odd cow that the neighbors hated. I was shocked, but just said that's crazy. But hey, do me a favor and never tell my wife or about that. They are a little spooked by things like that. So the TRDL is that we live in a murder house and I'm the only one of my family that knows.

Story nine. I found my adoption papers a few years ago when I was looking for a copy of my birth certificate. I know my birth mom, I just never had a relationship with her. My maternal grandmother took me in in two thousand and two. I never knew she adopted me. I just knew that one day I ended up living with her after telling her one day I don't want to go back home, Loel. I also found the letter that my mom wrote as to why she

was giving me up. That one really hurt. EDIT didn't expect this many upvotes, honestly, Lowell Thank you everyone for your kind words. My grandma is really the sweetest person ever. I'm forever grateful for her. But I just wanted to say, now that I'm older, I understand why my mom did what she did, and believe it or not, we actually have a cordial relationship now. Lol. Edit too, this brought back some unsettling feelings I thought I was over lol, But I want to thank you guys for your own

stories and kind words. They made me realize that I'm not the only one who had a rough life growing up, and I shouldn't let that stop me from healing and being the best that I can be. This has been one of the worst years of my life. I've been taking loss after loss, and I honestly felt like unaliving myself. I kept coming back to read the comments, and I see how strong everyone is and didn't let what they

went through stop them from doing better. So I just wanted to say that I've made an appointment to start therapy again and I'm going to be completely honest about how I truly feel and open up more. Thank you so much. Reddit. Also, i haven't been the best granddaughter lately, so I'm spending more quality time with my grandma and helping her out with whatever she needs. Story ten, My grandma was in a car accident and broke her ankle, so she stayed at my house and my mom we

took care of her while she recovered. I was entering puberty at the time and discovered that you could order censored photos on cable and was like a madman ordering censored photos. The bill that month came out to five hundred dollars. My mom thought it was my grandma because her novelas were on like channel fifty sixty and the censored photos was five hundred, six hundred limb fau. I've literally never told anyone to this day. Ta I am

Latina and close relationship. Censored photos for women is still pretty taboo in my culture, so that's why I'm so scared to tell anyone. Even if my mom and I are pretty open with each other, I'm still embarrassed. However, my grandma passed away in twenty nineteen and I felt compelled to tell my secret. But my mom sees that story as a funny memory she has of my grandma that she likes to look back on and laugh about.

So idk if I should? Lol? Story eleven. In high school, I was a super good kid, straight a student who loved homework, keeping out of trouble, and who was quiet as hell during class. So anyway, there was this guy who was also in ap classes with me, but he was super loud and obnoxious, but would pull stunts in such a way that he would have some margin of plausible deniability. Though we never spoke, I'm not sure he even knew I existed. He rubbed me the wrong way.

Maybe it was from the one cold day when this other girl in our class had her ball poking through her shirt bc she forgot a sweater, and he kept saying to her, damn, it's cold. Huh. Maybe it was from when he would pretend to be friends with kid who was definitely spectrum and desperate to be friends with him, to do the bullies homework for him and then bully him the next day, bid day. So at random, sometimes once a week or a month, or once every couple

of months, I would whistle. It's this high pitched whistle that sounds like a tea kettle that I can do while barely moving my mouth. Back then, no one knew I could do it, except for my family the super obnoxious kid always got in trouble. I was never once suspected. Story twelve. I was married for thirteen years to my best friend. We had what I thought was a great, easy marriage. One day, our five year daughter told me he was having her perform oral close relationship on him.

I was shocked, devastated, and afraid. He was one of those fun guys everyone loves to be around. I immediately called the police, and he was arrest When they started investigating him, they found out that he had been arrested while in college for exposing himself to very young boys. He only got a slap on the wrist that time because he came from a very wealthy family. One of his uncles was governor of the state we lived in.

I was so ashamed. I told our friends that he had an affair and moved away, but the truth was that he was in prison for five years. I picked up the pieces, sent our daughter to therapy, and spent the next fifteen years being a mother, paying for private school, cool trips, et cetera. She was my life. Then, when she went to college, he reached out to her over Facebook. When I saw she was communicating with him, I was shocked, devastated,

and afraid all over again. I called and told her that she was an adult, but I thought she should be careful because he's not safe. She hung up on me and has not spoken to me since that was four years ago. I send her forty thousand dollars a year still to pay for her medical school. It's all been almost unbelievable. Thank you for allowing me to share it here. Story thirteen. The only person in my life

who knows this story is my husband. When I was eight, I was desperate to be liked by the older boys on the street. I was the youngest boy other than a baby or two on the block, so I rarely had any boys to play with. When I was noticed by an older boy nineteen, a senior in high school, I was thrilled. He I'll call him Mike, saw me riding my bike up and down the street one day while he was outside playing basketball with a friend of his,

who I will call Sean. Together, they stopped me and talk to me about school, about my bike, and other random cow Then Mike invited me inside for a cola. Since my parents didn't keep soda in the house often, this was a treat once inside my can of cola in my hand, Mike and Sean started turning the conversation

to things I didn't understand. I don't remember exactly what they talked about, but I do remember a lot of questions about my body, my banana, whether I got erections, and if I had ever seen an older boy's banana. This turned into them taking their pants off and urging me to do the same. I didn't want to, but Mike knew I was an insecure little kid. He turned on the manipulation. Oh well, I thought you they were cool faustus. I guess not. I don't talk to boys

who aren't cool that kind of cow. I did what they asked from that point on, afraid to be uncool and not have older boys to talk to anymore. That day, all they made me do was touch them. But for months afterward, until Mike went away to college, I was used by them. Most often it was just Mike about half the time, though Sean was involved. He seemed less

gung ho about assaulting me than Mike did. Without going into details, if you can imagine something close relationship a nineteen year old could do to an eight year old, he did it to me. The weirdest part about it all was though I hated it when it was happening, I missed it when it was over. I felt special when Mike would invite me into his house when he left for college, and when Shawn completely ignored me. After

Mike was gone, I felt lonely and unwanted again. I never told my parents to this day, more than thirty years after the fact, they don't know that it happened. Mike and Shawn never faced any sort of repercussions for what they did to me, though. Oh in a small bit of justice, Mike did end up going to prison about ten years ago for doing the same thing to another boy. There are probably more than just that boy and me, but at least he finally got caught for

hurting someone. Story fourteen. When I was around five or six, my mom and dad were fighting just about every day. While I was napping on the couch when my mom came in very upset and she shook me away. She asked me if I saw the girl my dad brought home. I've always felt terrible for this BC I hadn't seen anyone but my dad that whole day. I'm pretty sure he was just playing video games like usual, but for some reason in my sleepy kid brain, I answered yes,

I said she was with him in their room. I'm honestly not sure why I lied like that, but they got a divorce shortly after, and I always felt like it was my fault until I recently found out my little sister is actually my half sister. But that's a whole other story. Edit for clarification. My dad had been cheating with my mom's sister and my mom was cheating with one of their friends to get back at him. She thought he was cheating with a different girl, but

found out later it was my ane. Honestly, their relationship was on its way out. I don't feel bad about it now since a few years ago we found out my little sister is my half sister from the affair my mom had. Story fifteen. This first part isn't exactly dark, but when I was a kid around nine or so, my cousin, who was twelve at the time, would make out with me. I didn't really know better at that age, but thought I'd be in trouble if I talked about it.

For whatever reason, About six years went by before I saw him again, and it was never brought up, never mentioned. He was like a totally different person. I sometimes wonder if it even happened. My memory isn't very reliable, and it was so long ago now I'm in my twenty ass Fast forward a little bit more, and I found out he passed away a couple of years ago. While cleaning a gun, accidentally shot himself. My great aunt, who's his grandma and who basically raised him, believes wholeheartedly that

it was an accident, but I suspect it wasn't. He grew up around guns and knowing how they work and how to empty them and everything. I find the odds that he accidentally forgot to empty the chamber pretty low. I also know he was struggling with depression and brain damage from a car accident a year prior, but I won't tell my aunt any of this. I think it would break her heart at it. About the first part, I don't really know how I feel about it nowadays.

It's just a thing that happened. I struggled with some weird negative emotions about it for a while, but it's so far gone in the past, and I live half a country away that it's easier to just not think about it about the second. I know accidentally shooting yourself is more common that it seems, but I have plenty

of reason to believe it was suicide. I don't really want to break down the paragraphs of details, but he had a pretty massive accident a year prior, leaving him with brain damage, and it messed up a lot of his goals in life. That plus the depression he dealt with in other factors, I think it was suicide. I hope it wasn't. Story sixteen. My uncle owned an old

Camaro that collected dust in his garage. When I was around ten, My family and I were in town visiting and I wrote the word fudge in the dust on the hood of the car. I used my thumbs so that the letters were fatter than my normal index finger. A few hours later, my aunt uncle asked us who did it, and I proved it wasn't me by showing how the person who did it had bigger fingers than me. Taking that cow to my grave. Edit this blew up. I'm thirty three now and the entire family definitely knows

it was me. It's an inside joke now where someone tries to get me to admit to it and I never will. Story seventeen. I've been accessory to both my parents' infidelity. At age five, my mother cheated on my dad while he was deployed, and my brother told me what was happening and that I shouldn't tell anyone. My father slept with his secretary two years later for a few years and would even bring me on dates with her,

telling my mother we were going to the movies. He took me to her house and had her roommate watch me while they went out or just hung out in her room. They're still married. I don't know if either no the other did the thing or if they still are doing the thing. Edit to everyone saying maybe they're in an open or polly relationship, Sure, maybe they are,

but I doubt it considering their views on most everything. Also, if they were in one, then they should have explained it to us instead of sneaking around and telling us not to tell the other parent and maybe don't bring your kid on your house dates. So yeah, maybe they were, But if they were, then I amo their behavior goes from poor for involving their kids and their infidelity to poor that they involved their kids in a lifestyle without explaining it to them and making their kids think that

they were cheating on each other. Story eighteen that I didn't graduate from college. I failed one course my senior year, second semester. The ceremony was already set up, so they let everyone walk. I had no diploma in my award. Nobody knows to this day and it's been seventeen years. Failed one course, three credits, was ashamed, so I never went back for those three credits, so everyone believes I graduated. Edit Holy Cow, got a lot of responses from this.

Currently working, but we'll get back to everyone as soon as I am able. Edit too, still working on getting back to everybody. I can't believe that so many went through the same situation as myself. I thought there may be a handful of people. All of you are great, and I appreciate all the advice. It has a lot, quite literally changed my perspective on a couple of things. Thank you all for the information resources and above all,

your personal experiences. Story nineteen funny, lighthearted story from my childhood. My little brother was in the shower. I could hear him singing. I put a coat on backwards and a stocking cap pulled over my face and waited outside the bathroom door. He opened the door, still singing and dancing kind of, and I did the Frankenstein thing, arms out, moaning. Uh. He screamed and fell backwards, knocking the toilet completely over.

Water went everywhere, the top of the toilet tank broke, shower curtain ripped down, and him laying on the floor. In the middle of all this, I ran back down the hall, coat and hat off and sauntered back casually. By then, my mother and father and our sisters were there, and everyone is like, you know, what the hell. I've heard him tell this story as proof of the existence of ghosts. To this day, Little Feller is now a fifty two year old bank manager with two kids. He

believes in ghosts. I don't feel a bit bad story twenty. Cutting off my dad was the best decision I've made. I hope it terminates him inside every day to not know how his only child and only grandchild are doing. I tried for years to have a relationship with him, since age ten until eighteen. From ten to thirteen, he would tell me he wished I would have passed away. When I was sick as a kindergartener because I wouldn't have tattled and ruined his marriage to my mom. I

tried multiple times, but was unsuccessful. I asterisk still asterisk tried to have a relationship with him for my mom to help her financially, and would visit him for months. He'd keep me locked in a closet for hours at age fourteen. From sixteen eighteen. He thought throwing money around would help me, but I was already working by then and it didn't matter. I still have my daily battle

where I ask myself if he's right or not. But I see my kid and I can't imagine thinking such vile things about them at that age like my dad did about me. Story twenty one. I was drinking with my ex in her room when I was nineteen years old, she was twenty three. All of a sudden, I started seeing images of my uncle, who passed away when I was thirteen. In my grandmother's bathroom. He was motioning me into the shower and telling me to touch his banana.

I felt like I was five years old seeing that. Luckily, my ex was really great and realized I was having a full on anxiety attack. During that moment, I was holding my knees, rocking back and forth with my eyes closed. She asked me what was happening, and I was able to dictate what I was seeing. I was probably in the best place for this to have happened. I still don't know what that was all about. I don't know if it was real or something my brain made up

in a drunken state. It's almost been ten years since story twenty two. When my grandpa was on his deathbed he admitted to terminating fellow marines in the Vietnam War for torturing and assaulting young girls. Most of our family doesn't know. Edit. Wow, didn't expect this to blow up, lol, Thank you for all the awards. My grandpa was a pretty cool guy, very calm, mellow, so my mom and

I were shocked when he admitted this to us. He was a gunsmith his whole life and was very proud of being a marine, but the guilt he carried from the war made him believe he was being punished. In the end, he passed away a really painful and traumatic death that I would never wish on anybody. I hope it lets him rest easier in peace. That the majority of you commend what he did. I certainly never held

any qualms about it. Story twenty three NSFW warning that I am a meth and close relationship addict and I am a boy. I used to be addicted to hookups and close relationship only, but when pandemic began, social isolation made me try KEEM close relationships, specifically meth. My friends and family do not know about my attractiveness, let alone my struggle with addiction. They see me as a sane and sordid guy since I am the breadwinner, and I

can say I am pretty responsible and reliable. During my addiction period, I was able to secure new job, promotion and raise, so really no one did suspect because of my KEM close relationship addiction. I had many risk in counters and I got all sort of STIs. I was on prep to protect me from HIV, but I did got gonorrhea, syphilis, chlamydia, and the worst was anal warts. My anal Warts required me to undergo surgery, and I think it was one of the lowest point of my life.

I had to go to surgery alone, I did not tell anyone about it, and I had to endure the pre and post surgery recovery by myself. I thought, after all these I will change, But even after my surgery, I relapsed several times. It actually had made my anal canal tight, which the doctor said would be permanent. So I cannot have anal close relationship now. Part of me regret having the surgery not knowing it could happen, and other part is thankful that at least I can't have

risky hookups anymore. Story twenty four. My to the sky depression isn't gone. I've just accepted that I have to wait to pass away of natural causes, because terminating myself would scar my family and most people who know me for life. Edit. I appreciate all the support, and I'm glad for those that find comfort in not being alone and feeling this way. FAQ. No, this isn't passive to the sky ideation, as I've attempted twice before and still

have active thoughts sometimes. Yes, I am in therapy and have tried medication, exercise, etc. No, I don't want to try microdosing psychoactive substances, as I have psychotic depression, meaning I'm prone to hallucinations and such if pressed. Story twenty five. My son will never know how much I can't stand as idiot friend from next door. The kid is legitimately stupid and so confident, which makes it worse. Edit since I got a lot of up votes, let me elaborate.

He's not a bad kid. He's not malicious or a troll or anything. He just has zero common sense or ability to do the simplest tasks. He constantly talks, and when he does, it's either about absolutely nothing or it's just a bunch of wrong info. And he never leaves me alone unless I'm a bit terse and short with him. My kid is a few years younger than him and has more sense. I feel like I can leave my kid alone in the house for thirty minutes if I

absolutely had to. I felt like if I left this kid alone for just ten minutes, he'd break something due to pure idiocy. Story twenty six. I love my kids so much, but I hate being a parent. Sometimes I miss my life before kids a lot, And I hate saying that because I really do have great kids. They're just a lot at it. Thank you guys, so so

flipping much. I am in tears right now. I honestly have felt so oh no alone for so long about this because when I try to talk about it with my loved ones or people i'm close to, I just get judged so bad. And I just really appreciate you guys for understanding, relating to me, sharing your experiences and advice and words of encouragement. It means so much. I'm not alone in this because I really do love my kids so much and I would do absolutely anything for them.

It's just so flipping hard being a parent sometimes. Thank you guys again. Story twenty seven. When I was ten, I was the victim of serial child molester, a teacher, a woman, and no one believe me. This is an important detail as to why I did what I would later do. Several years ago, I saw her while I was shopping. First I was afraid. Then I realized I was not ten anymore. I was a twenty five year old adult male. I became angry. I stalked her for weeks,

saw her working as a teacher. Still found her on social media. Catfished my way into the Cougar dating FB group she was in. Learned she had victimized more kids since she had lost me as her pet. She called her victims her teacher pets. After I was sure of everything and had gathered my information. I plastered her neighborhood with her private FB group posts about how much she loves the feeling of power as she pins the little

cubs to the desk in her office. The flyers had her face, her address, her phone number, and a bunch of other stuff. This isn't a dark secret, really, because if I get caught, so what I outed a loud and proud cub hunter. Edit. As I can't reply to all individually, I'm going to put this here. One. Yes, I did report her in the FB group. The group no longer exists and hasn't since I did this. Two. I am now in my thirties and this revenge was

seven years ago. Three she moved not long after I did this, But I can't say that my actions are the reason. Four. I have not continued to follow her, as my mental health takes priority and the actions I took back then for my revenge actually caused a bit of relapse on my depression. Five. I reported her when I was ten, and again when I found her living

in the same town when I was twenty five. The group chat logs the Facebook's posts and all information was turned over to the local police via throwaway e mail. To my knowledge, nothing was ever done on the matter. Six I didn't terminate her or cause her physical harm because I have a life, and while it isn't all that great, it's a lot better than prison. Story twenty eight. My only child, who is twenty three, has schizophrenia. He was diagnosed a year and a half ago. He is

at a point where he is stabilized. But because he has stabilized, he understands the road that he has in front of him, and of course it's devastating for him. I am no longer married to his father, but we co parent extremely well and we are rallying around him

the best that we can. Having said all of this, if my son were to follow through with his to the sky ideation, my dark secret is I completely understand because he would be out of his pain, and although it would completely destroy both of us, he would be more at peace than he is now. This kid is my life and my light, but him being at peace is something that I don't know that medication, or his parents or environment can give him, and that is the

worst possible feeling you can have as a parent. Story twenty nine. Two Days before my dad took his life, he called me telling me what he wanted to do. He had been calling me and telling me how depressed he was for months, and I was sick of hearing it, and I hung up on him. I hung up on my to the sky father. He then terminated himself on my seventeenth birthday. Everybody in the family thinks it was coincidence that he took his life on my birthday, but

I know the real reason. I've never told a single member of my family, as I know they would blame me, especially my brother. Ever since he took his life, I have this recurring nightmare of seeing my dad in a grocery store passing at the other end of the aisle. He's pushing an empty shopping cart and briefly looks at me at the other end of the aisle, but keeps going. When I run to where he was, he's now at the other end aisle. Rinse and repeat until up, wake up, screaming.

Some secrets will haunt you until you pass away. Story thirty. After my parents got divorced, my stepdad basically moved right in and started six siily abusing me. I knew it was wrong, deep down somewhere, but figured since he was an adult, he knew what he was doing and to trust him. One night, my sister caught him red handed and flipped out and told my mom. Cops came and he got arrested. I was only like nine, ten years old,

so a lot of it is a blur. At first, my mom had me sleeping in bed with her at night and was babying me, and I loved it. One day, months later, we were walking home from school and we saw me dad's van sitting outside of our house. We weren't allowed in, and we saw garbage bags sitting outside. My dad told us that my mom had called him earlier in the week and told him that if he didn't come and get us, she'd get rid of us. She wouldn't come out and talk to us, and I cried.

My dad lived in another state, so this meant we'd have to leave our friends and our hometown. Our friends ran after the van as we drove away. For a few years, she wouldn't talk to us BC she had allowed my stepdad to come back and that's why she stayed away. Guess she didn't want to face us after what she'd done. She'd chosen a man who'd abused her child over her own children. Eventually we had a relationship

with her again, but she was so sick. The funny thing is that she's in a really high up position for one of the largest banks in America. Professionally, people think she's amazing. She's a monster. I finally had the courage to cut her out when I went into recovery from candy addiction eleven years ago and havn't spoken to her since. A few people know this story, but not many, and it felt good to get it out to the world. My life has flourished since cutting her off. People always

say how I need my mom lool. Don't be scared to boot family out of your life, just b c their family. Thanks for allowing me to share this Reddit eat it first and foremost. Thank you all so much for all of the love and support, the awards and messages. I figured this would get buried in the post, and then I heard my phone going mad Lowell, thank you, thank you, thank you. Some clarifications. The trash bags were

the clothes my mother had gotten together for us. My brother and I each had one bag full of clothes, and none of our other belongings. My father was poor. We barely had running water and lived in a little log cabin in rural ne Epaus. He struggled with alcoholism for years and had anger, resentments and shame for not terminating my stepfather, also for not saving us sooner. The women he was with left him when he gained custody

of us, and he almost passed away from that. He got pneumonia and we had to help him through it. I was picked on for a few years at first because we were clearly very poor and kids are dicks. I eventually started fighting back, and then I started to get into a lot of fights. It was a way to have control, and in my traumatized adolescent mind, if people were afraid of me, then I'd never get hurt again.

My addiction was al of having no coping skills and not wanting to feel the disgust I had for myself and shame. I wound up in jail in twenty eleven, and that started my recovery journey. I had no contact with my dad for almost ten years, and then I made amends with him in twenty eighteen, and he was sober and we became closer in that time. Than we'd ever been. I cherished that time with him. He sadly passed away very unexpectedly, after hitting his head in January

twenty twenty one, Story thirty one. My mother is a monster who began six sially assaulting all of her children from the moment we were born. That isn't the secret. The secret is that I will spend the rest of my life making absolutely certain that she faces consequences for this. Right now, she thinks she won. That's necessary. She wormed her way out of criminal charges by throwing money at

a crooked lawyer. She's smug. That's great because very soon I will have everything in order to leave this country, and once there's an international border between us, I will go after her legally with every single breath in my body. I've been collecting evidence, and I just found a new smoking gun. I have hard proof. Now I will make sure that she never has access to children ever again. So I hope she enjoys the calm before the storm. Edit.

I've been looking at these comments in shock for the past twenty four hours because I'm completely new to experiencing support around this. It's been mostly the opposite. So from the bottom of my heart. Thank you. It especially hit me hard to see people complimenting my writing because my sister and I are writing a television series about our experience surviving our mother. Again, thank you. It's difficult to

express how much the support touches us both. We're in the final stages of fixing up an RV to take to Canada. Once there, we will expose everything we know. We'll definitely post an update when that happens. Story thirty two. My finances ain't adding up. I earn wade a little cash to be able to live. Ninety five percent of my earnings go to bills, and no, I haven't bought anything. It's just standard living bills, apartment, electric, phone, internet, CSN,

study loan. Soon I might lose my apartment and nobody I know knows about it. Edit lol, I had misspelled lose with loose, and nobody until now said anything fixed now edit too. Since I got so many people answering yesterday, I wanted to come with an update update. Was at a meeting today with local government and it seems I will be keeping my apartment as long as I solve a few things, which I'm already have begun to do. So it looks brighter than yesterday, but winter will be tough,

like it is for many people this year. Story thirty three years ago, a candy dealer that I knew asked me to hold onto a package of money for him. The guy was straight up bad news, selling candy and cola. He was awaiting trial on his third offense and they were preparing to put him away for a while. Anyway, he figured because I wasn't in the game, that he could trust me with the money, and he was right, so I said, sure, no problem, and he handed me a bag of money that had one hundred and twenty

five K stack of one hundred dollar bills. It wasn't what you'd think either. It was all wrapped up in rubber bands and was only about five or six inches thick. Every week or so he would ask me to peel off five K and meet him somewhere and hand it over. This went on for months. Finally, when it was down to the last ten K, he got caught selling while out on bond, and this time he didn't get out. He had a girlfriend who kept calling me asking for the rest of the money, but I just blew her off.

I need that she would just snort or shoot the rest of the money. They ended up giving him twenty years in prison. One month into his sentence, he hung himself dead. I kept that ten k and never told a soul story thirty four not really a dark secret, just sad. I live in small town where more or less everybody knows everyone body or has some connections to. I have family and friends, some best, some close, some good, and some acquaintances. Lately, I feel like everyone's forgotten about me,

or they just grew tired of me. They don't include me in major or minor gatherings, outings, or events anymore. We used to have a group chat, but ever since me and one person in the group fought, it's just never been the same. I mean, I reached out and tried to mend things, but it's just never been the same. I feel lonely and depressed, and seeing everyone happy makes it worse. Majority of the time I am by myself. They sometimes post about their gatherings, and I know that

they sometimes hide it from me. I know because I have a private account that we follow each other, but they haven't hid their post from that account. IDK why. It just sucks because I thought they were my friends, so why do they have to hide it from me? I want to disappear when I have the money or opportunity. I'm contemplating on cutting and leaving everything behind and start from scratch, somewhere else where no one knows me. At least there I'll be free. Sorry for the bad English.

I'm not good with these things. Story thirty five. No one is going to read this comment, but I think typing it out will help me intellectually. My husband passed away in a pretty horrific car accident in twenty sixteen. He was thirty two and I was thirty. We hadn't been married even two years yet, and it was absolutely devastating to me. But we rushed into the marriage, and the short time we spent together was a bit tumultuous, to say the least. I spent most of my twenties

as a single mom, barely making over minimum wage. Last year I finished my bachelor's degree with high honors. I moved to a whole new state with a very cushy job. I make three x more than the highest paying job I ever had before this. I absolutely love it and love that I can do whatever and go wherever. I want with my kid. It's something I could only have dreamed of six seven years ago. I wouldn't be here

if he hadn't been in that accident. I'd still be doing menial work or being a stay at home mom. I feel like I got to restart my life with a clean slate, and it's actually going really flipping good. The kicker is I now work in the position and industry he had hoped to be in one day. I'm not thankful he passed away, but I don't miss him like I think I'm supposed to. Story thirty six. First, I'm not a danger to myself or others, and that's not going to change. But beyond that, I'm feeling pretty

done with life. I've been a chronic pain sufferer for almost four years now, severe sciatica, and I'm disabled enough there's no way I could work. But I'm not so disabled that there's any help available for me beyond what provincial health care covers. Since I'm from the US originally, I fully wrecked recognize how meaningful healthcare that won't bankrupt me is. I love my wife and daughters. I want to be there for their milestones, their good days, bad days,

and really every day. I still manage to do most of the shopping and cooking, and I enjoy feeding them delicious meals, but I have no desires left for myself beyond not being a burden to them. That's my goal, improve their lives. However, I can slowly, over the last few years, I've just shed and discarded any wants or ambitions for myself. I can't bring myself to read books. I can't even watch movies or TV shows that are

new to me. In many cases, I recognize a desire to watch them, but I usually can't bring myself to do it. I'll have to pay attention, and that's just so hard. The willpower to really focus on something is less easily found these days, so I most often wind up rewatching things I've already seen, or listening to the same bands and same songs I've listened to for years. I occasionally treat myself to something new, but in the evenings,

my wife and I usually watch something new together. I save my focus for then so I can enjoy that time with her. The rest of the day, I just exist. It would be heartbreaking if she knew I felt this way. If there was a solution I'd take it, but everything that can be done has been done. My condition is degenerative, so it's just going to get worse. But I have time still, and I intend to use that time to make sure I'm a net positive to the household and

not just a drain. It's bad enough I haven't been able to bring in a paycheck for years, but there are still ways I can help, and I do. Story thirty seven. I have a son. Nobody but me and the mother knows. The mother was a really, really good friend who was somewhat homely and never had a BF and was in her early forties. She always wanted a husband and a child, but decided at this point if she couldn't get a husband, then she would have a child.

Twelve K dollars later, she gets artificially inseminated with a whopping twelve percent chance of it taking. Well, it doesn't take, and she's on a teacher's salary and her dream of kids and marriage is drifting away, and especially with the kid, time is of the essence. So I stepped up. We hashed it all out, and we decided the story would be she got artificially inseminated and doesn't know the father. We went to a lawyer and paid a good little

amount to basically absolve me of responsibility. To this day, I see it like I donated to a bank and somebody used my It would have been twelve ka pop every time she tried, and with this method she could try as many times as it took. Luckily, it only took a couple tries. We'd wait till she was ovulating and I'd donate. So ye, technically I have a son, but everybody thinks I'm childless. Story thirty eight. Not me,

but a close friend of mine. She tried one of those twenty three and me DNA tests to learn a little bit more about her genetic predisposition and stuff. When she got her results back, she saw that she had a distant relative that lived in NY. She figured it might be some cousin of something she's never met. We're both South Asian, so we have huge families. A few weeks go by and she receives a friend request on

Facebook from a guy sharing her last name. He actually DMS her with a story along the lines of Hi, I know this is crazy, but I think you might be my half sister. My friend immediately freaks out and is super doubtful of the entire thought of this stranger being related. She tries to ghost him, but the guy and his wife attempt to reach her through all social

media platforms, trying to connect. The guy's story is that when my friend's father immigrated from back home in the late eighty ees, he had an affair with a woman in NY. The dad apparently moved to a different state before the guy was born and doesn't even know he exists. The guy is now trying to confirm who his father is, hence the twenty three and me test. He also drops really specific and accurate information about my friend's father, which led the two of us to believe he was actually

telling the truth. A few days go on, and I convince my friend to confront her dad in private about the situation. I don't know the details of that conversation, only that her dad was shell shocked and moved out of their house for a little while. This was a few years ago, and all seems good now with my friend and her family, but I don't dare to ever bring that up. Story thirty nine. I purposely tanked a

church's finances well while I was the treasurer. Both pastors were making obscene amounts of money for the lack of work they were doing. They were misusing funds to the tune of dollar five k a month. One pastor refused to abide by the direction of the board not to give money to certain individuals. None of the board members wanted to be the bad guy. The pastors technically weren't

doing anything illegal. It was morally reprehensible. It happened ten years ago, and everyone that isn't in the no thinks I made a few clerical errors that nearly put the church under I'm a fairly hated person by a lot of people to this day, but super respected by a handful of people that knew that I did it on purpose to expose them. Pastors couldn't get the authorities involved because they know I would sink both of their careers and family dynamics. No regrets at all what I did.

I'm super successful career wise after the fact. Story forty. My daughter is not biologically mine. Been with same girls since twenty eleven. I relapsed hard in twenty eighteen and she left me. I got clean and completely one hundred and eighty ed my life around. We got back together and she was pregnant. We had had four miscarriages, so I took it as a blessing. The first time I held my daughter, she was maybe a week old and had the biggest smile. She only smiled for me, and

I instantly became dad in that moment. I love her. She keeps me clean and makes me want to stride as hard as I can every single oh no day. Her real dad, I guess, is a meth head and has harmed many people. We still live in the same state and within fifty miles of him, and he has no idea I'm in the picture. It's getting scary, and I can't seem to get my wife to want to move out quickly. Daughter is almost four, so soon we'll

be saying my name and understanding that I am dad. Oh, and my mom and dad don't know, more so my dad, because I have no idea how they would react since my mom kept me from my dad for eighteen years. It all hurts every day and I just want to leave this place and move far away so I feel safe with my daughter. I love y'all. I haven't told anyone, even my friends. I work in construction in and seems like raising a kid that isn't yours is one of

the biggest taboos there is. Yeah, it makes me feel like I'm a weak, little bad person some times, but nothing matters more to me than my daughter.