Reddit Stories - Elders REJECTED me for 14 years for MARRYING SOMEONE not of our faith.

Episode Date: November 25, 2025

#redditstories #askreddit #aita #marriageissues #familydrama #culturaldifferences #relationshipchallenges #interfaithmarriageSummary: A person shares how their elders rejected them for 14 years after marrying someone outside their faith. Despite the emotional turmoil, they stood by their partner and eventually gained acceptance, highlighting the complexities of family dynamics and cultural expectations.Tags: redditstories, askreddit, reddit, aita, tifu, elders, rejection, marriage, faith, family, culturaldifferences, relationship, acceptance, familydrama, interfaithmarriage, emotional, turmoil, challenges, dynamics, expectationsBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/reddit-stories--6237355/support.

I hope you enjoy this story. Elders rejected me for 14 years for marrying someone not of our faith. Recently, they reached out, expressing their longing to see me. It appears that my ailing grandmother requires a kidney transplant, and they are in need. Only reached out to see if me or my children could be donors. Fourteen years ago, my grandparents, who had raised me since I was a child, decided to cut me out of their lives entirely. The reason? They disapproved of my decision to marry my husband. To them, he was lesser not someone they deemed worthy of their family name or status. It was a painful blow, one that left me grappling with feelings of loss and betrayal. After all, these were the people who had been my only family for so many years. You see, when I was just seven years old, I lost both my parents to a tragic accident but, thankfully, my grandparents stepped in and adopted me.

For that, I will always be grateful. They didn't have to take on the responsibility of raising another child, especially at their age, but they did. Instead of being sent to live in an adoption center or foster care, I at least had a stable roof over my head and people who, in their way, gave me love and security. I grew up in a home where my basic needs were met, and for that, I will never stop being thankful to them. However, gratitude doesn't erase the truth of my experience growing up in their house.

As much as I was cared for, I also endured a lot of emotional and mental strain because of their strict and controlling ways. My grandparents were very traditional, with rigid views on how life should be lived. They were deeply religious, and they expected me to adhere to their beliefs without question. This was in stark contrast to how my parents had raised me in those early years. My parents, while alive, had been more relaxed and more open-minded. They never pushed me to follow any religion rigidly. But with my grandparents, it was the opposite. They had rules lots of them and they were non-negotiable. Breaking them wasn't an option. My grandfather, in particular, ran the household like it was a military barracks. He had spent years in the army, and it still

showed in his demeanor and the way he treated others. He barked orders rather than asked for things. He expected total obedience and discipline from everyone around him, including my grandmother. She, in many ways, bore most of his controlling nature. She was expected to handle all the cooking, cleaning, and household chores without any help from him, even when she was exhausted or unwell. Even as a child, I noticed the imbalance in their relationship. As I grew older, life with my grandparents became even more restrictive. They didn't let me be a normal kid, not even close.

While other children my age were allowed to play, make new friends, or enjoy the simple pleasures in their life, I was not allowed to do most things. For instance, I wasn't allowed to wear skirts or sleeveless dresses or tops. They considered such clothing inappropriate, even indecent as they didn't want me showing any arms. My hair had to be plated at all times no exceptions. Unruly hair, as they called it, wasn't acceptable in their household. My appearance at all times had to align with their rigid expectations of modesty and discipline. They didn't care that I was just a kid, wanting to dress up like my classmates or try out a new hairstyle. Everything about how I looked and behaved was dictated by their so-called

rules. It didn't stop there. After school, while other kids might hang out with friends or stay a little longer to join a school club, I had to rush straight back home. No detours, no excuses. Once home, I was expected to pray and start working on my homework. My grandfather would religiously check my bag every night and if he found out that I had received low grades on any of my papers then he would refuse to give me dinner and I had to go to sleep hungry that night. My room also had to be spotless at all times, with not a single speck of dust anywhere. And if they found even the tiniest thing out of place, I wasn't just scolded, I was spanked on my palms ten times. I can still remember the sting and how I would cry every time but they didn't

care. I also wasn't allowed to have friends unless my grandparents approved of them. And as you can probably guess, their standards for approval were nearly impossible to meet. If they didn't like someone's family, background, or even their tone of voice, that friendship was forbidden for me to pursue. And as if all this wasn't enough, my grandfather also had the outdated belief that women had no business learning to drive. So, when I turned 16 and wanted to drive like others, he didn't just discourage it he outright banded.

To him, women and engines were a bad mix, and any dreams I might have had of getting behind the wheel were dismissed as nonsense. Looking back, it feels unbelievable to think about how much I endured. At the time, though, I accepted it all because I had no choice. This was my life and this was all I knew. I had nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to. Their house was my entire world, and I convinced myself that their rules were normal, and that this This was just how every family operated.

It wasn't until I went to college that I began to see things differently. But even getting to college was a battle. My grandfather was adamantly against it. In his mind, I didn't need higher education. He believed my time would be better spent getting married to the son of one of his close friends. He had it all planned out, as though my life was a chess piece he could move wherever he wanted. But I couldn't accept that. down, I knew I wanted more for myself. So I begged. I pleaded with him to let me pursue a college

degree. It wasn't easy, there was a lot of grovelling involved, but eventually, he relented. Once I got to college, for the first time ever, I experienced a taste of freedom and began to see just how different life could be. When I first met my husband in college, I was honestly surprised that someone like him would even want to talk to me. I had spent my entire life in such a controlled, suffocating that I didn't know how to connect with people my age. I was awkward, unsocial, and unsure of myself. I had no idea how to make friends or even hold a casual conversation without second-guessing everything I said. But he made it easy. From the very first moment, he made me feel comfortable, like I didn't have to pretend to be someone I wasn't. He saw through the walls I had built around

myself, and instead of judging me, he gently helped me break them down. We started as friends. He never pushed me or rushed me into anything. Slowly but surely, we got to know each other, and before I knew it, we had fallen in love. It wasn't the kind of love that sweeps you off your feet in dramatic, movie-like ways it was quiet, steady, and kind. The kind of love that makes you feel safe. I can honestly say I'm lucky to have found him because he changed my life. in ways I never thought possible. Meeting his family was a revelation. I had no idea what to expect,

but from the moment I walked into their home, they were so warm and welcoming. They greeted me with open arms and treated me as though I belonged there. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced. Watching them interact with each other was eye-opening. There was no yelling, no harsh words, no rigid rules hanging over their heads like dark clouds.

They respected one another, laughed together, and supported each other in a way that felt so natural. I didn't realize families could function like that because my experience with my grandparents had been the complete opposite. Over time, his family made me feel like I was one of them. They didn't just welcome me into their lives, they embraced me fully. It was the first time I felt like I belonged somewhere without having to sacrifice my identity or tiptoe around someone else's expectations. That sense of acceptance and love gave me the strength to start imagining a life beyond the limits my grandparents had imposed on me. Throughout college, though, I kept my relationship with my boyfriend a secret from my grandparents. I knew how they would react if they

found out I was dating someone. They didn't want me involved with anyone. To them, my entire future was already decided. I was meant to marry the son of my grandfather's friend, and any deviation from that plan was unthinkable. So, I hid the most important part of my life from them, keeping my love and happiness in the shadows. After graduating from college and securing a good job, I finally found the courage to stand up to my grandparents. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done. When I told them that I wanted a different life, a life of my own choosing, they reacted exactly as I feared they would. My grandfather, in particular, was furious. He accused me of deceiving him, of using college as a way to escape his control. He told me he felt blindsided

and betrayed, as though I had been plotting against him all along. In his eyes, securing my independence was an act of rebellion, not a step toward building my own future. My grandmother was also deeply disappointed. She pleaded with me to come back home, to live under their roof and their rules again. She couldn't understand why I would choose to defy them or reject the life they had planned for me. Her biggest argument was that I was angering God by going against their wishes. She genuinely believed that by refusing to marry the man they had chosen for me, I was jeopardizing not just my happiness but my soul. Despite their constant disapproval, I paid no heed to my grandparents' words and continued building the life I wanted for myself. My husband and I

stayed together, growing closer every day, two years into our relationship, he proposed, and I was more than happy to say yes. It felt like a moment of pure joy and love, a new chapter beginning, one filled with hope and possibility. But, of course, my grandparents saw it as another opportunity to express their resentment and disappointment in me. When they heard about the engagement, they invited me over for lunch. At first, I thought maybe this was their way of extending an olive branch.

I hoped, perhaps naively, that they wanted to make peace or at least try to understand. understand my decision. But as soon as I arrived, it became clear that their intentions were far from kind. The lunch quickly turned into a session of verbal abuse and emotional manipulation. They wasted no time in telling me just how disappointed they were in me. My grandfather, in particular, spared no harsh words. He said my parents would be ashamed of how I had turned out and tried to guilt-trip me into breaking off my engagement with my husband. According to them, he wasn't good enough for me. They claimed he wasn't doing well financially compared to the other men they believed I could have chosen to marry instead.

I pointed out that my husband and I were both in our 20s, and it was ridiculous to expect someone my age to be wealthier than I was. Also, I didn't care about his wealth. He was my partner in every sense of the word, and I couldn't have asked for a better person to share my life with. But none of that mattered to my grandparents. The only thing they seemed to care about was that my husband didn't come from generation. and that they had always dreamed of their only granddaughter to marry a very wealthy man.

My grandfather, ever critical and demanding, compared my husband with other men who could, in his words, provide me with a life of luxury and even help them out financially if needed. It was all about status and money to them. They didn't care about how much my husband loved me or how much he had already done to support me. To them, love and partnership were secondary to wealth and appearances. To make matters worse, my grandfather, then declared that if I actually went through with marrying my husband, they would have no choice but to cut off all contact with me. He made it sound as if this were all my fault, as though I was forcing their hand to make this ultimatum to me. He said that by marrying my husband,

I was signing up for a lifetime of struggle and abandoning the comfortable life they had envisioned for me. It was their way of trying to scare me, to make me doubt my decision. But the thing is, I had heard their criticisms and endured their judgments for far too long. I knew the life I wanted, and I knew I deserved happiness. My husband had shown me what true love and support looked like, and I wasn't about to give that up just to satisfy their outdated expectations. So, even though their word stung, I stood firm. If cutting me off was their choice, then so be it.

I wasn't going to let their bitterness dictate my future. So, I went ahead and married my husband. I can confidently say that I've never regretted that decision not even for a moment. Over the years, my husband and I have faced our fair share of challenges, but we've weathered every storm together. Whether times we're tough or joyful, we've always had each other, and every morning, I still wake up feeling grateful for the love we share. We're now a family of four, with two wonderful kids who have brought so much light and joy

into our lives. Looking at our little family, I often think about how different my life would have been if I hadn't taken that leap of faith to choose my happiness over my grandparents' expectations. My husband has been my rock, my partner, and my best friend, and our life together is everything I could have hoped for. But even with all the happiness I've found, there's still a part of me that aches for the family I lost. It's been 14 years since I last spoke to my grandparents. I've made efforts to reach out to them over the years, hoping for reconciliation, but my attempts have always been met with silence. They've chosen to cut me out of their lives completely,

as if I don't even exist. According to some of my relatives, they don't even talk about me and act like I never even existed to them. It's heartbreaking to know that the very same people who raised me now see me as nothing more than a disappointment. But as painful as it is, I've had to accept it for what it is. This week, something unexpected happened. My distant cousin, someone I occasionally talked to, called me out of the blue. She told me that my grandfather had reached out to her, asking for my number so he could contact me. I was stunned. After 14 years of silence, this sudden interest felt strange, even suspicious. My cousin thought so too. She said she wanted to give me a heads up since she had already shared my number with him and wanted me to be prepared,

just in case there was more to it than it seemed. Part of me felt a flicker of hope. Could this be a sign that my grandparents had finally come around and wanted to make amends? Could my grandfather, after all this time, have changed his mind and decided he wanted to reconnect? But also at the same time, I couldn't ignore the doubts creeping in. What if there was an ulterior motive? My grandparents had always been controlling and demanding, and it was hard not to wonder if this sudden desire to reach out was tied to something other than genuine remorse. Yesterday, my grandfather finally called me. It had been 14 years since our last conversation, and hearing his voice again was strange,

almost surreal. He greeted me awkwardly, as though he didn't quite know how to begin. The conversation started with small talk he asked how I'd been and seemed genuinely curious about my life. I told him about my life now, about my husband and our two kids. He expressed interest in meeting them, asking questions about them as though he wanted to get to know the family I had built. For a moment, it felt almost normal, if he was trying to bridge the gap that had grown between us. But I couldn't ignore the elephant in the room. I asked him directly why he was calling me after all this time, especially since he and my grandmother had been the ones to cut me off in the first place. I didn't mince my words I reminded him

that I was still happily married to the man they had disapproved of so strongly, the man they felt wasn't good enough for me. That's when my grandfather began to explain. He said that he and my grandmother were getting older and just wanted to reconnect with me before it was too late for them. He went on to say how he regretted cutting me off all those years ago and how he had been missing me but had been too stubborn to admit it. If I'm being honest, the moment my grandfather said he had been missing me, something didn't sit right. My gut instinct kicked in, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. You see, my grandfather is not someone who talks about his feelings. Growing up, I can't recall a single time when he expressed emotions like

missing someone. He was always stoic, commanding, and distant. He doesn't even miss his own parents. For him to suddenly use such sentimental language felt completely out of character. And then there was the timing if he had really been missing me, why did it take him 14 years to reach out? Why now, all of a sudden? I couldn't help but question his motives. People don't change overnight, and my grandfather has always been someone who values control and his own interests above all else. Could it be that he needed something from me? Was this genuine regret, or was there something else driving his decision to call me?

My grandfather continued to say how he wanted me to visit him and grandma with my kids and spend some time with them. But when I asked whether my husband could visit with us too, he bluntly said he would prefer if that man didn't come along, making it clear that my husband was still not welcome to his house only me and the kids were. That comment immediately pissed me off. My kids are not just my children. They are a part of both me and my husband. The idea of welcoming my kids while excluding the man who helped raise them and has loved and supported me for years made no sense. His comment felt insulting. My husband is as much a part of my life as my kids are, and any

attempt to ignore or exclude him is an attack on our family as a whole. I didn't hold back. I told my grandfather straight up that if he was serious about wanting to reconnect with us, then he needed to stop with these conditions and restrictions. I made it clear that if he still couldn't bring himself to accept my husband, then there was no way me or the kids would ever want to be a part of his life again. I explained that my husband is my better half and my partner in every way. I refuse to allow anyone into my life who disrespects or excludes him family or not. That's just who I am, and that's the standard I hold for anyone who wants to be part of my life. My words didn't sit well with my grandfather.

He became furious and went off on a rant, saying that I was trying to force him into liking my husband and he didn't necessarily have to do that. He argued that me and my kids were his family so it was reasonable for him to just be in contact with us, again implying that this relationship could exclude my husband entirely. According to him, my husband didn't need to be involved for him to reconnect with me and my kids.

At that point, I'd had enough. First of all, he was the one who had called me after all this while, and instead of taking any accountability for his past actions, he was still trying with me in the same controlling way. Secondly, he was refusing to respect my feelings, as usual, and was demanding that I agree with him whether I liked it or not. So, I told my grandfather plainly that if this was his stance, then we had nothing further to discuss.

I wasn't going to compromise my values or my family's unity just to please him. With that, I ended the call. Since then, my grandfather has been calling and leaving me voicemails as I am not picking up his calls anymore, clearly angry about how I am handling this situation. He has accused me of being too much of a snob and has said that because he raised me, I owed it to him and grandma to at least give them a second chance. According to him, my refusal to reconnect on his terms is unfair and disrespectful, and he keeps insisting that I should just forget the past and agree to rebuild a relationship with him. Ida. Update 1, first and foremost, thank you to anyone who has validated my suspicions. My gut is telling me that something

about my grandfather's sudden desire to reconnect doesn't add up. He's a very toxic man, and it's hard for me to believe that after 14 years of silence, he suddenly misses me and regrets cutting me off. There's a strong possibility that something is motivating him beyond what he's willing to admit, and I can't ignore that feeling. At the same time, I also want to be fair and acknowledge the slim possibility that I could be wrong. If his intentions are genuine if he truly regrets his actions and wants to make amends, then I might be open to the idea of letting my kids meet him. However, one thing is non-negotiable. If my grandparents want to have any relationship with my kids, they must also accept and respect my husband. Allowing my grandparents

to be involved in their lives while excluding my husband would send the wrong message not just to my husband, but to my children as well. I refuse to model that kind of behavior to them. However, if by some chance my grandparents are willing to take responsibility for the past and meet me halfway, then I'll consider taking small steps toward rebuilding a relationship. This doesn't mean forgetting the hurt they caused me or jumping into things without caution it means setting clear boundaries and moving forward only if it feels right for me and my family. Update 2. It's been two weeks since my last update, and all I can say is that I was right about trusting my gut. I've just learned some troubling news. My grandmother has fallen seriously ill.

She's been hospitalized, and the doctors have diagnosed her with kidney failure. She's on dialysis and urgently needs a kidney transplant. It turns out that she and my grandfather have been reaching out to me because I'm the only grandchild they have, and by extension, my kids are also their grandchildren. They need to see if any of us could be a match for her kidney transplant. I found out about my grandma's condition through some of my distant relatives, who have recently visited my grandmother in the hospital to check in with her. According to them, she looks frail and very sick. She's clearly in a critical state. From what I've gathered, this is the reason why my grandfather has been so desperate to reconnect with me.

The urgency in his calls now makes sense he has been relentlessly pushing me. He has been relentlessly pushing me to visit so that he can then suggest we get tested. Clearly he wants to know if we're a match for a kidney donation to her. Now that I know the full situation, I'm honestly furious and deeply pissed off. On one hand, I feel sympathy for my grandmother's health condition but at the same time, I'm still grappling with the history I have with my grandparents and my own feelings of betrayal. How dare my grandparents even assume that they can just come to me and my kids, expecting us to be their lifeline because they need a kidney transplant. After 14 years of silence and toxic behavior, they suddenly expect us to drop everything

and give them something as precious as an organ? How dare they assume that we would even want to help them? They didn't even care about maintaining a relationship with me, my husband, or my kids all this time. And now, in a moment of crisis, they suddenly think it's acceptable to just come back into our lives like it's nothing the audacity is infuriating. Update 3. It's been a week since my last update, and my grandfather reached out to me again. This time, I told him that I knew exactly what was happening with Grandma and that me and the kids were not interested in helping them. I told him to ask for help from other family members if they were willing to help. This is when my grandfather doubled down and started attacking me.

He said things like I had ruined my life after marrying my husband and how I had committed a crime by marrying a man outside of our religion. Those words cut deep. He made it very clear that had I married someone of the same faith, he would have never cut me off from his life. This was the moment when it all clicked for me. All these years, I had been wondering why my grandfather couldn't accept my husband, why he was so resentful and dismissive of him, even when my husband had never done anything wrong. Now, I finally knew the truth. It all came down to faith. When I I realized this. I was even more furious at my grandfather. I told him firmly that I felt ashamed that I was even related to someone like him. A man who could be so blinded by his hatred

for a person based on faith or religion could never be a part of my life, nor could he be around my children. I told him that I would never forgive him for what he said, for the way he had treated me, my husband, and my children, all because of something as ridiculous and hateful as his intolerance. I couldn't believe that there had always been a part of me that thought he would maybe, one day changed, but now, hearing this blatant ignorance from him, I knew there was no turning back. This is when my grandfather tried to change his tune. He started to say how even if I didn't like him, I should at least consider helping my grandmother, who was sick and needed our support. He tried to pull up my heartstrings, saying how I owed it to them since he

and his grandmother adopted me after my parents' death and raised me. This is when I told him that living with them was not a piece of cake. I had paid my dues by suffering under their roof for years. I followed all their rules and I was still punished by them all because I married a man outside of their faith. I told grandfather that although I was sad about what they were going through right now, it still didn't make it my responsibility anymore to help them. After all, they were no longer my family. My grandfather started cursing me out and called me a few unpleasant names, but I paid no heed to the old man. I disconnected the call and blocked him.

I couldn't listen to his toxic, manipulative words anymore. He had made his views clear, and he had finally shown me who he truly was. I wasn't going to allow someone like that back into my life or my children's lives, no matter what blood ties we shared. Forward slash forward slash.