Reddit Stories - Following a period of PRIORITIZING my family RESPONSIBILITIES to care for my GUARDIANS,

Episode Date: July 12, 2025

#redditstories #askreddit #aita #family #responsibilities #guardians #prioritizing #careSummary: Following a period of PRIORITIZING my family RESPONSIBILITIES to care for my GUARDIANS, I faced difficult decisions that tested my loyalty and commitment to both my immediate family and my guardians.Tags: redditstories, askreddit, reddit, aita, tifu, familyresponsibilities, caregiving, loyalty, commitment, difficultdecisions, priorities, familydynamics, relationships, challenges, personalgrowth, selfreflection, decisionmaking, loyaltyconflicts, caregivingchallenges, familyloyaltyBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/reddit-stories--6237355/support.

I hope you enjoy this story. Following a period of prioritizing my family responsibilities to care for my guardians, my sibling unexpectedly arrives back at home and they instruct me to vacate the premises. Subsequently, they reach out to me, reporting that he has taken their belongings. Money and disappeared again. I, 25F. am at a complete loss. Seven years ago, my brother, 30M, left without warning when I was 18, right as I was finishing high school and planning for college.

Just gone one morning with a half-ass note saying he needed space and had to figure things out. My parents completely fell apart when he left. My dad's health took a nosedive, and my mom couldn't handle everyday tasks anymore. Everything fell on me. College plans? Gone, then eventually just night classes whenever I could squeeze them between jobs. Moving out? Impossible when your dad needs help get it.

to doctor's appointments and your mom can't remember to pay bills because she's busy staring at old photos. Dating? What's that? I've had exactly two relationships in seven years, both ending because I couldn't commit enough time. One guy actually told me, it's like you're married to your parents. He wasn't wrong. For seven years, I've been paying bills, scheduling appointments, handling insurance claims, picking up prescriptions, cooking meals, cleaning the house, and working three separate jobs to keep us afloat. My dad had two major back surgeries during this time, issues that never fully resolved, and my mom broke her arm last year after slipping on ice. Each time, I was the one handling everything. I became their caretaker, secretary, accountant, and emotional

support system all rolled into one. Through it all, my brother was just gone. No calls on birthdays. No texts asking how anyone was doing. Just complete radio silence. Meanwhile, my parents kept his room exactly as he left it. They'd talk about him sometimes, always with this wistful tone, like he was off on some grand adventure instead of being the selfish prick who abandoned his family. This Christmas was supposed to be like all the others.

Small, quiet, with my uncle joining us. Then, three days before, my mom got a call. It was my brother. He was coming home for Christmas dinner. Just like that. Seven years of nothing, and now he was coming for ham and potatoes like nothing happened. You should have seen my parents. It was like someone flipped a switch.

My mom cleaned the entire house in a day, something she hasn't had the energy to do in years. My dad went out and bought a bottle of expensive whiskey my brother used to like. They were giddy, practically bouncing off the walls with excitement. The family will be whole again, my mom kept saying, I tried to be supportive. I spent hours at the grocery store picking out ingredients for a special dinner. I even baked apple pie from scratch, his favorite, thinking maybe it would help smooth things over. Maybe we could all sit down and have an actual conversation about.

what happened. The day of, I went to help my mom in the kitchen, and she actually she'd she'd all handled. This from the woman who hasn't cooked a full meal without my help in over five years. Dinner started okay. My parents couldn't stop smiling. My uncle sat quietly, nursing a beer. I just picked up my food, not really knowing what to expect. Then the doorbell rang. He walked in wearing an expensive-looking wool coat, designer jeans, and shoes that probably cost more than I make in a week. He had a duffel bag over his shoulder and this confident smile I used to know so well. He dropped his bag in the hallway, hugged our parents, and announced that he was back. Not just for dinner. For good. He was moving back in. I looked at my parents, expecting.

I don't know what. Surprise. eyes? Questions? Anything other than what I got, which was my mom clasping her hands together and saying how wonderful it would be to have their capable son home again. Capable. That's the word she used. Seven years of me keeping this family functional, and she calls him capable. Then my dad cleared his throat and said, completely casually, that maybe now would be a good time for me to spread my wings and move out, since they wouldn't need my help anymore. They just kept talking about how I was always more independent anyway, how I'd probably been itching to get my own place for years.

My brother smiled and said not to worry, he'd take care of things now. I don't remember leaving the table. I just remember standing in the driveway, the cold air biting through my thin sweater. Seven years of putting my life on hold, and just like that, I was being replaced. I stood there for I don't know how long. I didn't want to go back inside, but I didn't. have anywhere else to go. Eventually, my uncle came out. He didn't say much at first, just draped his coat over my shoulders and lit a cigarette. Then he said he didn't think it was right,

how they treated me. Said he'd seen this coming for years, the way they idolized my brother, the way they took me for granted. He looked uncomfortable, like he wasn't used to these kinds of conversations. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. Something about a logistics company he'd helped start a few years back. Said they needed someone reliable, someone who could juggle multiple responsibilities and not drop the ball. Said I'd be perfect for it. I didn't know what to say.

My resume is a patchwork of retail jobs and service industry positions. Nothing that would qualify me for a real job. But he insisted I think about it. Said the position was mine if I wanted it. I couldn't go back inside after dinner. I'm writing this from my car, parked at a 24-hour diner. I don't know what I'm going to do. Go back to the house where I'm clearly no longer needed.

Take my uncle up on his offer? I honestly don't know. All I know is that seven years of my life just disappeared in the span of a dinner, and I'm sitting here wondering if any of it mattered at all. Update I didn't go back to the house that night. I ended up driving to a Walmart parking lot and slept in my car. It wasn't the first time. I've done it before when things got too tense at home and I needed space.

Woke up with a stiff neck and that peculiar kind of emptiness that comes from not knowing what the hell you're supposed to do next. I drove back to the house around noon the next day. My brother's car was in the driveway. I sat there for a while, just staring at it. Then I went inside. The living room was different. My brother had moved the furniture around, put the TV on a different wall, rearranged the couch. There were empty beer bottles on the coffee table and a half-eaten pizza in an open box.

My dad was asleep in his recliner, and my mom was in the kitchen, humming to herself as she washed dishes, something I hadn't seen her do voluntarily in years. My brother was nowhere to be seen, probably still sleeping. It was noon, but why would he be up? He didn't. He didn't. He didn't didn't have responsibilities. He didn't have three separate shifts to juggle. He could sleep until whenever the hell he wanted. I went upstairs to my room and just stood in the doorway for a minute. I started pulling out drawers, grabbing clothes, tossing them onto the bed. I don't know exactly when I decided I was leaving. I just knew I couldn't stay. It took me less than in four to pack up everything I cared about. Twenty-five years in this house, and everything that mattered to me

fit into a few bags. I found that depressing in a way I couldn't quite say. As I was carrying the bags downstairs, my mom finally noticed me. She was sitting at the kitchen table, scrolling through her phone. She glanced up, saw the bags, and then looked back down at her screen. No questions. Know where are you going? Or when will you be back? Nothing. My dad was awake by then, watching some game show with the volume too loud. He saw me standing there with my bags and just kind of nodded, like we'd already had a conversation about this and he was just acknowledging that I was following through.

But we hadn't talked about anything. No one had asked me a single question since Christmas dinner. I was about to walk out the door when there was a knock. I opened it, and my uncle was standing there, holding two cups of coffee. He looked at my bags, then at me, and said, I figured you might need this. He handed me one of the cups. We sat on the front steps, even though it was cold. He asked what my plan was.

I told him I didn't really have one, maybe crash with a friend until I figured things out. That's when he offered again for the job. Said I could stay with him for a while and decide. He lived about an hour away, in a decently sized town with actual job. opportunities. He had a spare room that was just collecting dust. I hesitated. I've always been wary of depending on others, seeing how my parents collapsed when my brother left taught me that lesson early. But I also knew I didn't have many options. My savings were pathetic after years of helping with household expenses. So I said yes. We left before noon. My brother still hadn't

come downstairs. My mom was still at the kitchen table. My dad was still watching TV. No one said goodbye. The drive was quiet. My uncle isn't much of a talker, and I wasn't in the mood for conversation. He just let me stare out the window and think. We stopped once for gas, and he bought me a sandwich that I couldn't finish. His house is small but neat. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, a combined living room, and kitchen area. The spare room, my room now, I guess, is basic. Twin bed, dresser, desk. The walls are beige. There's a window that looks out onto a small backyard with a single oak tree. After he helped me bring my bags in, he showed me where everything was, towels, extra blankets, how to work the shower, you have to jiggle the handle just right. Then he said he had some work to do and left me alone.

I sat on the bed for a long time, just looking at my phone. No messages. It's been two days since I walked out of Christmas dinner, and no one from my family has checked to see if I'm okay. I don't know what happens next. I don't have a job here. I don't know anyone in this town. All I have is a barely a few administration, service skills, and a skill set that consists mainly of knowing how to handle insurance companies and remembering medication schedules. My uncle knocked on the door around 7 p.m., asked if I wanted pizza. We ate in relative silence. Then he said the offer for the job was still open if I wanted it. No pressure, but the position was there. Entry-level operations coordinator. Training provided. I told him I'd think about it. Now it's almost midnight, and I've been lying in this unfamiliar bed in an

unfamiliar room. Everything feels temporary and uncertain. But for the first time in seven years, I'm not responsible for anyone but myself. I don't know if that's liberating or terrifying. I guess I'll find out. Update, it's been a little over two weeks since I moved into my uncle's spare room. The adjustment has been strange. The silence is the most noticeable thing. No one calling my name every five minutes to ask where something is or to help with some task. No TV blaring in the background because my dad can't hear well but refuses to admit it. No passive aggressive sighs from my mom when dinner isn't ready exactly when she wants it. Just quiet.

My uncle works from home most days. He has an office set up in a converted dining room. He's in there from about 8 a.m. to 5 p.m., typing away at. on his computer or on calls with clients. I see him at breakfast, sometimes at lunch if our schedules align, and then in the evenings. He doesn't hover, doesn't ask a lot of questions. Just gives me I've been helping around the house to earn my keep, cleaning, cooking when I can, though he often just orders takeout, doing laundry. Basic stuff. It feels different from what I was doing at home. There, it was expected. Here, my uncle.

actually thanks me when I do something. The first time he thanked me for washing the dishes, I didn't know how to respond. As for the job offer, I was hesitant at first. I kept putting off giving him an answer. One night, about a week after I arrived, he asked me directly what my plan was. Not in a pushy way, just matter-of-factly. I told him I was still thinking about it. That's when he laid it out more clearly. He said he'd seen how I had. handled things at home, managing bills, scheduling appointments, keeping track of medications and routines. Said those organizational skills were valuable. The position would involve coordinating deliveries, managing schedules, handling client communications, basically making sure everything runs

smoothly. He said he'd guide me through it, teach me what I needed to know. I asked why he was doing this. Why offer a job to someone with no experience? He was quiet for a long time. Then he said he'd always thought I got a raw deal. Said he'd watched for years as I put my life on hold while my brother got to go out and find himself, said it wasn't right, and this was his way of trying to balance the scales a bit. I told him I didn't want charity. He said it wasn't charity, it was an opportunity. That there's a difference. He said he wouldn't have offered if he didn't think I could do it. And he made it clear it wouldn't be easy, I'd have to learn a lot, quickly, and there would be mistakes.

But he thought I could handle it. In the end, I agreed to give it a try. What did I have to lose? I started three days ago. The company is based about 20 minutes from my uncle's house. It's not huge, maybe 30 employees total. They handle logistics for small to medium-sized businesses, coordinating shipments, organizing warehousing, that sort of thing.

My role is entry level, assisting the operations team with daily tasks. A lot of data entry, phone calls, emails. The first day was overwhelming. So much information, so many systems to learn. I came home with a headache and collapsed into bed by 8 p.m. The second day was marginally better. Today was my third day, and I actually managed to handle a client call without having to transfer them to someone else. Small victory, but I'll take it. In the evenings, I've started looking

into online courses. If I'm going to make this work, I need to learn more. My uncle has a decent internet connection, and his house is quiet enough to study in. It feels strange to be thinking about my own education again after so many years of just getting by. I haven't heard from my parents. Not a single call or text since I left. My uncle mentioned they, he talked to my dad briefly about some family matter, and apparently, my brother is settling back in like he never left, taking over the garage for some project, talking about maybe opening a business of some kind. The usual big talk with minimal follow-through, at least that's how he was before he left. It's not exciting. It's just daily life, wake up, work, eat, sleep, repeat. And for now,

that's enough. Update, it's been just over seven weeks since I left my parents' house. The job has gotten easier as I've learned the systems. I'm handling client communications regularly now, coordinating with drivers, tracking shipments, filing reports. It's detail-oriented work that suits my organizational tendencies. My uncle has been a good mentor, not holding my hand, but available when I have questions. He treats me like any other employee when we're at the office, which I appreciate. No special treatment, no shortcuts. I've settled into a routine. Up at 6.30 a.m. Shower, coffee, granola bar. At work by 8. Lunch at my desk most days, trying to learn more about the industry by reading articles or watching training videos while I

eat. Home by 5.30. Dinner, usually something simple I can cook in under 30 minutes. Then a few hours of online coursework before bed. I enrolled in an online program, focusing on supply chain management since it aligns with the work I'm doing now. The classes are challenging after being out of school for so long, but it feels good to be learning again, to be working towards something concrete. My room at my uncle's house has started to feel more like mine. I've continued to help around the house, cooking dinner when I have the energy, handling the grocery

shopping, keeping my space clean. My uncle and I have fallen into a comfortable coexistence. We're not particularly close in the emotional sense, but there's a mutual respect that works for both of us. Some evenings we watch documentaries together or discuss articles related to the industry. Other nights we do our own thing. It's simple but stable. About three weeks ago, I got a text from my mom. The first contact since I left. It was a wasn't what I expected. No, how are you? Or we miss you. Just, where did you put the insurance cards? As if I'd just stepped out for a few hours instead of moved out completely. I told her they were in the filing cabinet in the den, top drawer, blue folder. She sent back a

thumbs-up emoji. That was it. Then last week, my cousin called. She'd been to my parents' house for a Sunday dinner and filled me in on what's been happening. Apparently, my brother's settling and isn't going as smoothly as my parents had hoped. He's not contributing to household expenses. Leaves messes everywhere and expects my mom to clean them up. Stays out late and sleeps until noon. The project in the garage has resulted in tools everywhere and oil stains on the driveway. His big business idea hasn't materialized into anything concrete.

My cousin said my dad seems stressed. My mom is putting on a brave face, but the strain is showing. They've started to realize that having their capable son back isn't the blessing they thought it would be. But they haven't reached out to me. Pride, maybe. Or shame. Or maybe they still believe he'll come through eventually.

I listened to all this with a strange detachment. It was like hearing about characters in a TV show I used to watch. but had since stopped following. But I didn't feel the need to rush in and solve everything like I would have before. My uncle overheard part of the conversation. After I hung up, he asked if I was okay. I told him I was. He nodded and said sometimes the best way to help people is to let them figure things out for themselves. I think he was trying to absolve me of any guilt I might be feeling for not going back. But honestly, I wasn't feeling guilty. Just tired. tired of a cycle that's been playing out for years.

The online courses are going well too. I got an A on my first major assignment, a case study analysis of supply chain inefficiencies. There have been moments of doubt, of course. Late at night, when I can't sleep, I wonder if I made the right choice. If I should have tried harder to talk to my parents before leaving. If I'm being selfish by focusing on my own life after years of putting others first, But those moments pass, and in the light of day, I know this was the right decision. Maybe the only decision that made sense.

And that's okay. After years of chaos, mundane feels like a relief. Final update, the call came on a Tuesday evening. I was at my desk, working on an assignment for my supply chain management course. My phone lit up with my parents' home number. I let it go to voicemail. A minute later, the notification appeared. I didn't listen to it right away.

I finished my paragraph, saved the document, and then sat there staring at my phone. It had been three months since Christmas dinner. Three months of building a new routine, a new life. Three months of silence, except for that one text about insurance cards. Eventually, I played the message. It was my mom, hi, it's mom. Could you call us when you get a chance? It's, it's important.

Thanks. Click. No, I love you, no hope you're doing well. Just a request with no context. I didn't call back that night. Or the next day. I told myself I was busy with work, with studying. But the truth was, I was afraid of getting pulled back into their orbit,

of having all my progress erased by whatever crisis they were facing now. The calls kept coming, though. Three more over the next two days. I ignored them all. Then on Friday, a call from a number I didn't recognize. I picked up. It was my dad. Not calling from home or his cell,

calling from what turned out to be a neighbor's phone. His voice sounded different, strained, older somehow. He didn't waste time with pleasantries. Your brother's gone again. he said. Left last weekend. But this time it's worse. Worse how, I asked. That's when the story came out, piece by piece. Apparently, my brother had been running up debts in my parents' names. Opened credit cards they didn't know about. Borrowed money from family friends with no intention

of repaying it. And then there was something about legal troubles. My dad was vague, but I gathered there were outstanding warrants involved. He left in the middle of the night. Again. This time taking my dad's car after maybe selling his, their emergency cash, and even my mom's wedding ring, which she'd left on the bathroom counter before her shower. My dad's voice cracked as he described coming downstairs to find yet another note, this one not even apologetic, just saying he had to take care of some things and would be in touch when he could. Seven years ago, they'd believe that line. Now they knew better.

The silence stretched between us. I waited for him to continue, to explain why he was calling me after months of nothing. Finally, he said it, we need your help. I asked what kind of help. More silence. Then, everything's a mess. The bills, the accounts, the legal stuff. We don't know where to start.

Your mother's not doing well. I'm not. I can't. I closed my eyes. Took a deep breath. Asked if they were asking for money. He hesitated, then admitted yes, partly. They were behind on the mortgage. The credit card debt was substantial. But it wasn't just financial help they needed. It was someone to help sort through the chaos, to figure out what needed to be done first, to help them clean up the mess my brother had left behind. again. I told him I had my own life now. A job with responsibilities. Classes I was taking that I couldn't just drop everything and come running back. He said he understood that they

didn't expect me to move back in, just to help them figure things out. Maybe come for a weekend. Talk to the bank with them. Look over the paperwork. I said I needed to think about it. He said okay. Then, just before hanging up, your mother asked me to tell you not to hate us. She's. We know we messed up. With you. With everything.

I didn't respond to that. Just said goodbye and ended the call. That was four days ago. I haven't called them back. My uncle knows something's up. He can tell I'm distracted, but he hasn't pressed for details. Just said if I need time off. to let him know. Part of me wants to help. They're still my parents, and regardless of how they treated

me, I don't want to see them lose their house or drown in debt. But another part of me is angry. Angry that they only reached out when they needed something. Last night, I sat down and made a list of what helping them would entail. Review all accounts to assess the damage contact credit bureaus about fraudulent account set up payment plans with creditors perhaps consult with a financial advisor or even a lawyer create a sustainable budget they can follow. It's all doable. I've handled similar tasks before, but there's an emotional cost. I'm not sure I'm prepared to pay going back there, seeing them being in that house again. It would be like stepping back in time and I've worked so hard to move forward. So here I am at a crossroads. Do I go back and help knowing it might

disrupt the stability I've fought for or stay away knowing they're struggling with problems that I have the skills to solve? I don't have an answer yet. I just know I can't go back to what it was before. Edit, thanks for all your replies. I'm reading them all and thinking about your advice. For those asking if I'm TA for not helping, I'm not looking for judgment so much as advice. I genuinely don't know what the right thing to do is here.