Reddit Stories - FOLLOWING many years of being REGARDED as a DOMESTIC worker by my blended

Episode Date: July 1, 2025

#redditstories #askreddit #aita #domesticworker #familydrama #relationships #identitycrisis #blendedfamilySummary: FOLLOWING many years of being REGARDED as a DOMESTIC worker by my blended family, I finally confronted them about my true feelings and aspirations, leading to a transformative journey of self-discovery and empowerment.Tags: redditstories, askreddit, reddit, aita, tifu, domesticworker, familydrama, relationships, identitycrisis, blendedfamily, empowerment, selfdiscovery, confrontation, transformation, personalgrowth, communication, boundaries, selfexpression, empowermentjourney, findingstrengthBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/reddit-stories--6237355/support.

I hope you enjoy this story. Following many years of being regarded as a domestic worker by my blended family, I uncovered that my grandparents bequeathed the residence to me. When my stepmother insisted on me providing payment for lodging, I decided to expel. All of them. Hi everyone. I need to write this all down. I'm 21 now.

This started a long time ago, I guess. My mom got sick with cancer and she died when I was. was six. It was just me and my dad then. My mom's parents, my grandparents, helped a lot. They were really good to me. To make things easier, they bought a house so we could all live together. My dad, me, and them. I found out later, much later, that they put the house in my name. Like, it was mine, but in a trust thing. They never told me back then. I was just a kid. five years after my mom died. So when I was 11, my dad got married again. Her name is Karen. She had two kids from her last marriage. Her son, Ron, was 15 then. Her daughter, Kyrie, was 11, same as me.

When Karen first came around, she was nice. She smiled a lot, brought little gifts for me. She talked in a soft voice. After she and my dad got married, shea Ron, and Kyrie moved into the house with us, my dad, my grandparents, and me. At first, it was okay. A full house, but okay. My grandparents were getting older. A year or so after Karen moved in, my grandpa passed away. Then, about two years after that, my grandma got very sick and she died too. It was very sad. They were like a second mom and dad to me. After grandma died, Karen started to change things. Or maybe she was like that before, but I just saw it more. Little things at first. My mom and my grandparents had certain ways we kept the house. Pictures, little things on shelves, the color of the living room walls.

Karen started to change it all. One day, I came home from school and the living room was painted a new color. A color my mom would have hated. Some of my mom's old pictures were gone from the wall. I asked Karen where they went. She said, oh, honey, they were so old and dusty. We need to make this house hours, a new family home. She smiled, but it didn't feel nice. I found the pictures in a box in the garage, under some old newspapers. I took them to my room. Then it was the keepsakes. My grandma had a little glass bird she loved. It always sat on the kitchen window. One day it was gone.

Karen said it must have broken and someone threw it away. I knew she was lying. She just didn't want it there. She started to get rid of anything that was from my mom's side of the family, bit by bit. If I said anything, she'd tell me I was being sensitive, or that I was living in the past. My dad didn't say much. He always hated arguments. Soon, Karen started to talk about chores.

She said I was old enough to help more. I was about 13 then. I already did my own laundry and kept my room clean. But she wanted more. She made a list. I had to clean the kitchen after dinner every night. I had to do the vacuuming for the whole house on Saturdays. I had to help with groceries.

Ron and Kyrie didn't have many chores. Karen said Ron was busy with his studies. He was in high school then, and Kyrie was too young for heavy work, even though Kyrie was my age. As I got older, it got worse. By the time I was 16, I was doing most of the cooking. Karen said she was too tired after work. She worked part-time at a shop. I worked part-time too, after school, at a coffee place. I still had to get home and make dinner for everyone. I did most of the cleaning. Most of the laundry. It felt like I was the mom of the house, but I was just a kid.

Ron finished high school, then went to a college nearby for a bit. He dropped out after a year. He said he was going to be an online businessman. He was always on his computer in his room, but I don't think he made much money. He's 25 now and still lives at home. mostly playing games and talking about his ventures. Kairi is 21, like me. She goes to college, but she got an apartment near her school mostly with my dad's money.

She was hardly ever there, though. She was usually at our house, sleeping late, taking pictures of herself for social media, and buying clothes online with money Karen gave her. My dad paid for her apartment and Karen often gave her extra money. Karen never asked Ron or Kyrie to do much. If I asked why I had to do everything, Karen would get angry. Her voice would get loud. She'd say, you live here, don't you?

You eat the food, don't you? This is your family. You need to pull your weight. Sometimes she would cry and tell my dad I was being mean to her. My dad would just tell me to try and keep the peace. One time, when I was maybe 17, I was really sick with the flu. I could barely get out of bed. Karen came into my room and told me I still had to make dinner.

I said I couldn't. She started yelling that I was lazy and faking it. She pulled my blankets off me. I remember just lying there, shivering, and she was screaming. My dad came in and told her to stop. They had a big fight. I could hear them yelling in their room for an hour. Karen smashed something.

I heard it break. Later, my dad brought me some soup. He looked tired. He didn't say anything about Karen. Another time, Karen threw away a box of my mom's old books. I loved those books. I found them in the trash outside. When I brought them back in, Karen saw me.

She grabbed the box and her face got red. She started ripping the pages out of the books, right in front of me, screaming that I was obsessed with dead people and that I needed to move on. I tried to get the books back and she pushed me. I fell against the wall. My dad was at work. Ron and Kyrie just watched. Ron looked bored. Kyrie filmed it on her phone for a second, then giggled and went to her room. I just picked up the torn books and went to my room. I cried a lot that day. I kept working part-time. I started studying online for a college degree. I just tried to stay out of Karen's way. I saved my money. I didn't know what for, just to have it. Then, about two months ago, Karen came to me. She had a piece

of paper in her hand. She looked very serious, like she was a boss at an office. She said, we need to talk about your contribution to this household. I asked what she meant. She said, she She said, well, you're an adult now. You have a job. It's time you started paying rent. And utilities, of course. I was surprised. I said, rent? In this house? She said, yes. $700 a month. Plus a share of the electricity and water bills. It's only fair. Everyone needs to contribute. I looked at her. I thought about Ron, in his room, not paying anything. I thought about Kyrie, getting money for her apartment she barely used in her shopping, not paying anything.

I asked, what about Ron and Kyrie? Are they paying rent too? Karen's face changed. She looked angry. That's none of your business. Ron is trying to build his career. Kyrie is still in school. She needs our support.

They are my children. and they are figuring things out. You have a steady part-time job. It's different for you. I just said, I need to think about this, she said, there's nothing to think about. It starts next month. Then she walked away. That night, I couldn't sleep. It wasn't just the money. It was the way she said it. Like I was a stranger, not family. It was the unfairness of it all. For years, I did everything. And now she wanted money too. Something in my head just clicked. I remembered my grandparents. I remembered them talking about wanting me to be safe and secure. I suddenly remembered a conversation I heard a little of, a long time ago, after my grandma died. My dad and my aunt,

my mom's sister, were talking about papers and a trust. I was too young to understand it then. So, the next day, I started looking. My grandparents were very organized. They kept all their important papers in a big locked box in the study. My dad never touched it. Karen probably didn't even know it was there. I knew where my grandma kept the key. I found the box.

Inside, there were a lot of documents. Wills. Insurance papers. And then I found it. A folder with my name on it. It was about the house. It was a legal document, a trust. It said the house was transferred to me when my last grandparent, my grandma, passed away. It was mine. This whole time, it was my house. Karen and my dad had no legal claim to it. I sat there, on the floor of the study, with the papers in my hand. I wasn't even sure what to feel.

I just read it over and over. My house. I made copies of everything. I put the original papers back. That evening, I asked my dad and Karen to sit down with me in the living room. I didn't ask Ron or Kyrie. This was about the adults first. I was calm.

I just said, I'd been looking through some of Grandma's papers. About the house. My dad looked confused. Karen looked suspicious. I said, Grandma and Grandpa left the house to me. It's in a trust. It's my house. My dad went pale.

He looked down at his hands. He knew. He knew and he never told me. Or maybe he forgot, or just didn't want to deal with it. Karen laughed and said, don't be ridiculous. What are you talking about? I showed them the copies of the papers. I explained it simply.

Karen's face went from angry to shocked. She kept looking at the papers, then at my dad, then at me. She was quiet for a minute, which was rare. Then she said, well, that's a surprise. Just some old papers. It doesn't really change anything, does it? We are a family. My dad finally spoke.

He was very quiet. He said, it's true. True, Karen. The house is hers. Karen stared at him. Then she looked at me. Her eyes were narrow. She didn't say anything else that night. She just got up and went to her bedroom. My dad followed her. I could hear them arguing, low at first, then louder. Karen was screaming. The next day, Karen tried to act like nothing happened. She was too nice to me. made my skin crawl. But later, I heard her talking to my dad in the kitchen. She didn't know I was in the laundry room, just off the kitchen, and the door was open a little. She was saying,

she's too young to own a house. She needs to be independent, get her own place. You need to talk to her. Tell her it's time she moved out and stood on her own two feet. We can't live with this hanging over our heads. She'll hold it against us. My dad sounded tired. He was saying something about how it was my house. What could he do? Karen got angrier. You're her father.

You tell her. Or I will. We need her out. This is our home. I recorded it on my phone. That was it for me. I knew what I had to do. I didn't want to live like this anymore.

This wasn't a family, not really. It was just me and them. And Karen wanted me out of my own house. The next week, I went to see a lawyer. I showed him the papers for the house. He explained my rights. He was very helpful. He helped me write a formal notice.

It said that Karen, Ron and Kyrie had 60 days to move out of my house. I gave a copy to Karen. I gave a copy to my dad for Ron and Kyrie. Karen read it. Her face turned white, then bright red. She started screaming. She called me ungrateful, a monster, a horrible child. She said I would regret this.

She tore the paper into tiny pieces and threw them at me. You can't do this. This is my home. We will not leave. Ron came out of his room. He looked annoyed. What's all the yelling? Karen told him.

He looked at me and said, You can't kick us out. That's like, illegal or something. Kairi started crying, saying I was ruining her life. My dad just sat on the sofa with his head in his hands. He didn't say anything for a long time. They didn't believe I would do it. Karen told everyone, her friends, her family,

that I was trying to make them homeless. She said I was crazy, but I did it. When they didn't make any plans to leave after the 60 days, I filed the legal eviction papers with the court. I had proof of ownership. I had the recording of Karen saying she wanted me out. The legal stuff took a little while. Karen tried to fight it. She told the court I was mentally unstable.

She said my dad was on her side. He wasn't, not really. He was just broken. She even had a moment in a lawyer's office where she started banging her head against the table lightly, then harder, saying this was too much stress, that I was doing this to her. The lawyer looked shocked. Then Karen started crying and saying she felt faint. It was a whole show.

But the law was clear. It was my house. They had no lease. They had to leave. It's been almost three months. since I gave them the first notice. Ron was the first to go. He got angry one day, packed a bag,

yelled a lot of bad words at me, and slammed the door. He's staying with some friends. I heard he got a job at a big retail store. Kairi had a huge meltdown. She screamed for hours that I was jealous of her and that I was a nobody. Then she called some friends, packed all her designer clothes and makeup, and went back to her campus apartment. She actually has to live there full time now.

She posts sad things on social media about family betrayal. Karen was the hardest. She refused to pack. She would sit in the living room and cry loudly whenever I came in. Or she would follow me around the house, telling me how I was destroying the family. She tried to get my dad to stop me. They had huge fights. One night, my dad told her he couldn't do this anymore.

He said he had let things get too bad for too long. He told her he wanted a separation or a divorce. Karen had a complete breakdown then. She started screaming and throwing things. Not at me, just around. She broke lamps, pictures. She clawed at her own arms, leaving red marks. My dad tried to calm her.

It was awful. completely out of control. She accused him of taking my side, of never loving her. Then she collapsed on the floor, just sobbing and wailing. It went on for hours. The next day, she was quiet. My dad helped her pack a few bags. Her sister agreed to let Karen stay with her for a short time. When she left, she looked at me. Her eyes were full of hate. She said, you'll get what you deserve. She didn't say goodbye to my dad. My dad is still here, in the house. He's been very quiet. He told me he was sorry. Sorry for not being a better father, for letting Karen treat me like that. He said he knows he messed up. He started looking for a small apartment.

He said he will move out too, that this is my house and I deserve peace. He said he will give me money for the bills until he goes. So now it's just me and my dad, rattling around in this big house. I know legally I did what I had to do, but I feel. I don't know. Empty. My dad is going to move out. He says he needs to sort his life out. He's talking to a lawyer about the divorce from Karen. My question is, I guess, what now? I have this house. I have the quiet I thought I wanted. But it all feels so broken. There's no family left, really. Just me. Was this the only way? Did I do the right thing by breaking everything apart to get my own space? I know it's my house, but they lived here for a decade. I'd offer actually going through with it and kicking them all out

like that, especially Karen after her breakdown. Update 1, hi everyone. It's been about two weeks since my original post. Thank you for all the comments and messages. I read a lot of them. Many of you said I was not the asshole and that I did what I had to do. Some of you asked for more details on a few things, so I'll try to clarify. A lot of people asked about my dad and why he let it all happen. That's a hard question. My dad. He doesn't like fighting. After my mom died, he was very sad for a long time. I think when Karen came along, she was bright and loud and kind of took over, and maybe he just let her. He works a lot, he's a tradesman, long hours. I think he just wanted peace at home, or what he thought was peace. He often told me to just ignore Karen, or to do

what she said to avoid a fight. When she would get really bad, screaming, he would usually try to calm her down, but not really stand up for me, if that makes sense. He would try to stop the fighting, but not fix the problem that caused it. He admitted to me after Karen left that he knew it was wrong, that he buried his head in the sand for years. He said he felt like a coward. He's been talking to a therapist now, which I think is good. Some asked if Karen was always that extreme. Looking back, yes, but it got worse over time, or maybe I just noticed it more as I got older. When I was little, if I didn't do something she wanted, she would give me the silent treatment or tell my dad I was being difficult.

As I got older, the demands got bigger, and her reactions if I pushed back got more explosive. The screaming fits happened maybe once or twice a month, sometimes more if she was stressed about something else. The time she ripped my mom's books, or when she pulled my blankets off me when I was sick, those were bad, but there were other times. She once locked me out of the house for a few hours in the rain when I was 15 because I was late coming home from my part-time job, my bus was late. I had to sit on the porch until my dad got home. She told him I was being disrespectful and needed to learn a lesson. He argued with her then, but eventually, I was the one who had to apologize to her to keep the peace. A few people wondered if Ron or Kyrie ever stood up for me,

or if they were also victims of Karen. Kyrie was mostly just like her mom, very entitled, thought she deserved everything. She would join in with Karen sometimes, making fun of me or complaining about me. Ron mostly just ignored everything. He stayed in his room. If Karen was screaming, he'd put on headphones. He wasn't mean to me directly very often, but he never helped me. He just didn't care as long as he got what he wanted, which was a free place to live and no responsibilities. Karen definitely favored her own kids. They got new clothes, gadgets, whatever they asked for. I usually had to use my own money for my part-time job if I wanted anything extra.

Reading your comments helped me see that I wasn't crazy for feeling like the situation was unbearable. For a long time, I just thought it was my life, that I had to put up with it. The idea of owning the house was such a shock. It was like a light turned on. I didn't decide to kick them out just because of the rent. That was just the final thing. It was ten years of being treated like a servant, of my mom's memory being erased, of Karen's yelling in tantrums, and my dad not stopping it. After I found the papers, I thought about it for a few days before I told them.

I thought maybe I could just tell them I own the house and things would change. Karen would respect me more. They'd start helping out. But then I overheard her telling my dad they needed to get me out. That's when I knew just telling them wouldn't be enough. She would try to manipulate me or my dad. She would make my life even worse. The recording I took of her saying that was important.

My lawyer said it showed her intent. I didn't want to kick them out. I'm not that kind of person. But I didn't see another way to get my life back, or to even have a life. It felt like self-defense. The lawyer explained that legally, they were tenants by sufferance, or something like that. Basically people living there without a lease once I, the owner, decided they couldn't anymore. He said the 60-day notice was generous. Many of you asked for more

specifics about how I actually proceeded with the eviction and what Karen did when she got the formal notices, beyond what I wrote in the first post. It wasn't a simple process because of her reactions. So, after I consulted the lawyer, he helped draft the first formal notice to vacate, the 60-day one. I handed a copy to Karen directly. My dad was there. Her initial reaction, which I mentioned involved screaming and tearing it up, was even more intense than I first described. She didn't just tear it, she threw the pieces in my face. She lunged towards me, and my dad had to physically hold her back. She was shouting things like, I'll see you in court. You won't get away with this. This house is mine as much as yours.

and a lot of very personal, nasty insults I won't repeat. She also threatened to call child protective services on me, which made no sense as I am an adult, but it shows her state of mind. She then ran to her room and slammed the door. For the next few days, she'd either give me the silent treatment or mutter threats under her breath whenever I was near. A number of you asked if her behavior escalated beyond verbal abuse or property damage. Unfortunately, yes.

About a week after the first notice, and after days of her either ignoring me or whispering horrible things when I passed, she cornered me in the kitchen. I had mentioned this briefly, but some asked for clarity. She was eerily calm at first, which was almost scarier than the screaming. She said, your mother would be disgusted by you. You are destroying this family. Are you happy now that you're making everyone miserable? Then, her eyes kind of glazed over, and she reached for the knife-blanked,

lock on the counter. She pulled out a large kitchen knife. She didn't point it directly at me, but she held it in her hand, gesturing with it as she spoke. Maybe if I just end my suffering, then you'll finally be satisfied? Is that what you want? She said, her voice getting higher. My dad heard the change in her tone and ran in. He saw the knife and immediately stepped between us, talking to her calmly, and managed to get her to put it down. She then crumbled to the floor, sobbing and hitting her fists against the cabinets, screaming about how unfair everything was. That was probably the most frightening moment because it felt so unpredictable. My dad wanted to call emergency services, but Karen shrieked at him, saying she would tell

them he attacked her if he did. So, he didn't. The next day, she acted like nothing had happened, which was also part of her pattern. Several people asked if they fought it legally. When the court officer came to serve Karen the official summons, she initially refused to open the door. He had to leave it taped to the door. Karen then hired a lawyer who tried to argue that she had contributed to the household for years

and had a right to stay, or that I was incompetent. My lawyer presented the trust documents, my grandmother's will, and my recording of Karen's saying she wanted me out. Karen's lawyer also tried to claim emotional distress for her. During one meeting between the lawyers, I was not there, my lawyer told me, Karen apparently had a dramatic episode, crying and claiming she was too ill to be moved. But legally, her case was very weak.

The house was unequivocally mine. Many of you asked for more details on how Ron, Kyrie, and Karen actually left, and what the immediate aftermath was like in those final days. It wasn't a peaceful exit for any of them. Ron, as I said, left first. Some asked if he said anything or just left. He didn't just pack and go. He confronted me in the hallway, demanding to know what I was going to do all alone in this big

house. He said I was pathetic and that I'd be sorry when I had no family left. He then went into his room and I heard a loud bang. Later, I found a large, fist-sized hole in his bedroom door. He'd punched it. Kyrie's departure was equally dramatic, as a few of you guessed. She didn't just cry, she had a full-blown tantrum. She screamed at me for about an hour, calling me jealous, ugly, and a witch.

She said I was ruining her social life because she'd have to actually live in her campus apartment full-time. She then started going through the living room, trying to take items she claimed were hers. She grabbed a small flat-screen TV and when I took a small flat-screen TV and when I told her it was mine, it was a gift from my grandparents to me years ago, she shrieked, fine, if I can't have it, no one can, and deliberately dropped it on the floor. The screen cracked badly. Karen's final days in the house, before her sister came for her, were a roller coaster, and some of you asked if there was more property damage.

Yes, there was. Beyond the emotional outbursts I described, it got worse after my dad told her he wanted a divorce. It was like something in her snapped completely. One afternoon, I found her in the backyard with a pair of garden shears, cutting my grandma's prize rose bushes down to stumps. She was muttering about cutting out all the dead things. When I tried to stop her, she just glared at me with cold eyes and kept cutting. Later, I found she had poured bleach onto a patch of my grandma's favorite lavender plants. Inside the house, after she was gone, my dad found she'd taken a permanent black marker and written horrible, obscene words about me and him on the inside of her bedroom closet door. The day she left, when her sister's car was outside, she walked through the

house one last time, and as she walked out the front door, she turned and spat on the welcome mat on the porch. That was her final goodbye. My dad, as I mentioned, was devastated by all of it. He started. He started cleaning up Karen's messes almost immediately after she left, apologizing over and over. He was the one who found the writing in the closet and painted over it himself before I saw the worst of it. He kept saying he didn't know how he let things get so out of control. He reiterated his offer to pay for the damages, including the TV Kyrie broke and the door Ron damaged. So yes, the process was fraught with these kinds of incidents. It wasn't just a simple case of them packing and leaving once the notice was served. Every step was a battle. It's quieter now.

But the house feels damaged. Not just the things, but the feeling in it. I'm sleeping a bit better, but I still jump at loud noises. Update 2. It's been about six months since my last update. So, around seven months since I first posted. A lot has happened. My dad moved out about four months ago. He found a small apartment not too far away. He was true to his word and helped pay for some of the repairs before he left. The whole Ron punched and the door is fixed. The closet Karen vandalized has been repainted. The garden is slowly recovering.

I'm trying to replant some things. The house is very empty now. Just me. At first, the quiet was nice. I could study without being interrupted. I could eat what I wanted, watch what I wanted. No one was yelling. But sometimes, the quiet is too much.

It's a big house for one person. I don't hear from Ron or Kyrie at all. I blocked them on social media after Kyrie kept posting nasty things about family betrayal and some of her friends started sending me weird messages. I heard through my dad that Ron is still working at the retail store and complains about it all the time. is finishing her college year, still living in her apartment. Apparently, she's asked my dad for more money because Karen isn't giving her as much now. Karen is living with her sister still,

I think. Her sister called my dad once, a few months ago, to complain about Karen. Apparently, Karen is very difficult to live with. She doesn't help around the house, complains constantly, and has had a few big arguments with her sister's husband. My dad didn't offer much. sympathy to the sister. He just told her that was Karen's problem now. My dad and Karen are officially getting divorced. The lawyers are handling it. Karen tried to claim half of my dad's assets in alimony. She tried to argue that my house should be considered a marital asset, even though it's mine. Her lawyer dropped that pretty quickly when my lawyer showed them the trust documents again. The divorce is not friendly. There have been angry phone calls between

them, mostly Karen yelling at my dad. He usually just hangs up now. He told me Karen even tried to say he was abusive to her as a way to get more money, but there was no proof because it wasn't true. If anything, it was the other way around with her emotional outbursts and occasional physical aggression, like throwing things or that incident with the knife. For me, I'm still studying online. I got a small promotion at my part-time job, so I have a little more money. I've started started to repaint some of the rooms in the house. Colors that I like. I bought a new bird bath for the garden to replace one Karen broke in a fit of rage years ago that my grandma had loved. It's a small thing, but it felt important. I had a very strange incident about a month ago.

Karen showed up at the house. I was in the kitchen and I heard knocking at the front door. I looked through the peephole and it was her. I didn't open it. She knocked for about 10 minutes. Then she started yelling my name. Then she started crying, very loudly, saying she just wanted to talk, that she missed me and my dad. I still didn't open the door. I just stood there, shaking a little. Eventually, she went away. I called my dad afterwards. He was angry she came to the house. He called her and told her to stay away from me and my property. She apparently screamed at him and denied she was crying, saying she was just trying to be reasonable. My dad is doing. Okay. He sees his therapist every week. He's quieter than he used to be, more thoughtful. We meet for

dinner sometimes. We mostly talk about my studies, his work, current events. It's a bit awkward still. There's a distance that wasn't there before all this, or maybe it was, but it was hidden under all the drama. I had to change the locks on the house. After Karen showed up, I was worried she might have made a copy of a key sometime, or that she might try to get in. It costs money, but it makes me feel a bit safer. So, that's where things are. The house is mine. It's quiet. I'm slowly trying to make it my own. I did what I had to do, I think. There was no other way to stop what was happening. Thank you all for reading this and for your support earlier.

I don't think I'll post any more updates. This is just my life now. I have to figure out how to live it.