Reddit Stories - GUARDIANS NEGLECTED my OFFSPRING for an extended period while providing financial support to

Episode Date: November 26, 2025

#redditstories #askreddit #aita #parentingfails #familydrama #financialsupport #neglect #responsibilitySummary: GUARDIANS NEGLECTED my OFFSPRING for an extended period while providing financial support to. This situation has caused tension and resentment within the family, leading to difficult conversations and potential long-term consequences.Tags: redditstories, askreddit, reddit, aita, tifu, family, parenting, neglect, financialsupport, responsibility, tension, resentment, conversations, consequences, familydrama, difficult, guardians, offspring, extendedperiod, supportBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/reddit-stories--6237355/support.

I hope you enjoy this story. Guardians neglected my offspring for an extended period while providing financial support to my siblings' kids. However, when they attempted to re-establish a connection after my children achieved greater success, I declared that it was belated and declined. My children cut them off. It had been years since I'd last heard from my parents in any meaningful way. And now, out of nowhere, they were calling, wanting to reconnect.

I didn't know what to expect, but I certainly wasn't prepared for what happened when I picked up the phone. They'd always been the type to believe they knew best, always so sure about everything. For as long as I could remember, their love had been reserved for my brother their golden child. My brother was the one who could do no wrong in their eyes, no matter how much trouble he caused or how many mistakes he made. And then there was me, the one who'd never quite measured up. I'd spent most of my adult life trying to live my own life on my terms, raising my kids far away from their influence. My brother had stayed close, basking in their approval. Meanwhile, my kids had been growing up independent, smart, driven, just the opposite of how my parents had always

expected them to turn out. It wasn't until I'd realized my children were doing better than my brothers that it really hit me my parents had always been so focused on their golden son that they'd barely even noticed the success my children were carving out for themselves. And now, they were calling me, wanting to make everything seem fine. As if we could just pick up where we left off. As if the years of neglect and disappointment hadn't happened. They wanted to reconnect with my children. They wanted to act as if all the years of ignoring them and dismissing their worth had never happened. They wanted to act like they hadn't already made their feelings crystal clear by not even acknowledging the trust fund they'd set up for my brother's kids while my children

had been left with nothing. We didn't speak much, just the usual Merry Christmas or happy birthday text. The bitterness had been building between us for years, and I was tired of pretending it didn't bother me. But this was different. The sudden call, the excitement in their voices, it was all too much to ignore. They were acting as though everything could just go back to normal. My mother's voice came through the line as if she were about to share some grand revelation. She said they'd been thinking that they should start getting back into the kids' lives. It had been too long, and now that they were older, they should make up for lost time. She sounded so eager, almost as if she just realized that it was time to fix everything.

I could already feel the anxiety forming in my stomach. I didn't know how to react. My kids had grown older, yes, and they were doing big. better than I'd ever dreamed. But that was the issue, wasn't it? My parents had spent so much time fixating on my brother's family and throwing everything into supporting them, ignoring the success of my children. They didn't even want to acknowledge their accomplishments, let alone contribute to their future. I took a deep breath. I asked her what exactly she was trying to say. She hesitated for a second, almost as if she were choosing her words carefully.

She then mentioned how they'd always wanted to be close, and now that my kids were older, it would be nice to catch up, to make up for the time that had passed. She sounded almost too casual, as though nothing had ever been wrong. I wanted to scream. I wanted to remind her that it was her and dad who had pushed my kids away all those years. They'd let my brother and his family take center stage while mine got the scraps. I knew my children wouldn't just forget that. They had their own sense of pride, and they weren't going to let themselves be manipulated.

But they didn't know the full story yet. They didn't know the lengths my parents had gone to, pretending that my brother's kids were more deserving, more worthy. But as much as I hated it, I knew this was about something else. They were seeing their mistake now. The picture was clearer to them than ever. My children were doing better. Much better than their golden grandchildren.

children. The trust fund they'd set up for my brother's kids was growing nicely. Meanwhile, my children were forging their own path without the handouts, without the extra push. They didn't need the help my parents had always given to my brother's family. They were already thriving. And now, my parents wanted in. They wanted to act like everything was fine like they hadn't just ignored us all those years. I told her I didn't know if my kids were ready for that. They hadn't forgotten how they'd been treated. There was silence on the other end, and I could almost hear my mother scrambling for a response. She said, well, sometimes kids just need to understand that parents make mistakes. It was time to move on from the past. She sounded snobbish.

There was no way that I would let her off easily. I let out a bitter laugh and told her, you mean your mistakes. She sighed, clearly frustrated. She said they were only trying to help. I clicked the phone off, the words still ringing in my ears. I could feel the resentment bubbling back up. How dare they pretend like this was about helping? It wasn't about help. It was about making up for the years they'd lost by not seeing what my kids were capable of. And now, it was too late. There was no going back. Update 1, 2 days had passed since I spoke to my mother. At that time, I had replayed the conversation in my head over and over, each time growing angrier at the audacity of it all. I couldn't believe they had the nerve to call

after all this time, expecting everything to just pick up where it left off. They'd barely acknowledged my children, and now they suddenly wanted to be the doting grandparents. I needed to talk to someone, and my husband was the obvious choice. He'd been a steady presence in my life through every twisted turn my family had thrown at me. His name was Alex, and he worked as an architect. His job had always kept him busy, but he made sure to carve out time for us, no matter what. He was the kind of person who listened without judgment and offered thoughtful advice. And right now, I needed his perspective. That evening, after dinner, we were sitting on the couch in the living room. The kids were in their rooms, doing their own

thing, and for once, the house was quiet. I knew I couldn't hold off any longer, so I took a breath and told him everything. I started, feeling the frustration bubbling up, saying how my mom had called out of nowhere, saying they wanted to reconnect with the kids. She was all about making up for all the lost time, like nothing had ever happened. Alex looked at me with a raised eyebrow and asked what I had said. I told him that I'd shot down the idea right away, making it clear that our kids weren't going to just forget how they'd been treated. He nodded, his expression thoughtful. He told me he understood why I was upset and how after everything they'd done, it was ridiculous for them to expect us or the kids to just forgive and forget. I nodded along,

feeling some of the tension ease, but the anger still simmered under the surface. I leaned back against the couch, crossing my arms, and said that the worst part was how they'd set up a trust fund for my brother's kids, but left nothing for ours. They'd always treated our children like they were inferior, just because of their assumptions about me and Alex, and now, out of nowhere, they wanted to be the ideal grandparents. It didn't sit well with me. Alex's jaw tightened when I mentioned the trust fund. He said it was messed up and that it was obvious my parents only wanted to get involved now because they saw our kids doing well, not because they genuinely cared. I nodded again, my mind spinning with frustration. But then, Alex placed a hand on my shoulder,

giving me that steady, reassuring look he always did, and said that we couldn't just keep this bottled up. He suggested we needed to talk to the kids, let them know what was going on, and figure out how they felt about it. I hadn't even thought about involving them directly, but he was right. They deserved to have their opinions. After a long pause, I sighed and agreed. I would talk to them. Later that evening, after the kids had finished their homework and we'd eaten dinner, I gathered them in the living room. They sat across from me, curiosity mixed with suspicion on their faces. I could tell they knew something was off, and I wasn't about to hold back.

I started by asking if they remembered how their grandparents and I didn't exactly get along. They both nodded, and I continued, telling them that my parents had reached out to me recently, saying they wanted to reconnect with them. They were acting like they wanted to make up for all the lost time and get back in touch. Jake, always the one to speak his mind, rolled his eyes and said, seriously? After all these years? I gave him a small nod, saying that was exactly how I felt. I could see the wheels turning in their heads, and then Lily, always more cautious,

asked what I meant by make-up for lost time. I told her that I thought that now that we were doing well on our own, they wanted to be part of the picture. There was a long silence. I could see the disappointment on their faces. They had always known my parents were distant, but hearing it laid out like this made it feel more real. Jake spoke up again, clearly frustrated. He asked if we were just supposed to forget about all the times my parents had ignored us.

I assured him we weren't, that I didn't want them to just forgive and forget. I told them both that if they didn't want to have anything to do with my parents, I'd support that decision. I wasn't going to force them into a relationship with people who hadn't cared about them before. They needed to choose for themselves. Jake looked at Lily, then back at me, and after a moment, he said he didn't know. He admitted he was still angry about the way my parents had treated us. Lily, always more reserved, nodded in agreement, saying she didn't think she wanted anything to do with them either. It wasn't the answer I had hoped for, but it was the one I expected.

Our kids were smart, and they weren't about to let themselves be manipulated by a sudden change of heart from people who had written them off for years. They'd grown up with integrity, and they knew the difference between genuine affection and forced gestures. I nodded, feeling a mix of emotions. Part of me wished things could have been different, that my parents could see what they'd missed out on, but another part of me felt a deep sense of relief. My kids didn't need their grandparents to be successful or happy.

They had me, and they had Alex, and that was more than enough. I broke the silence, telling them we'd let my parents know. They didn't need to settle for anyone who hadn't supported them from the beginning. They both nodded, and we moved on from the topic. Update 2, since y'all were asking for some background info, here it is. When my kids were around 8 and 10 years old, I discovered something that made my blood boil. My parents, who had always been distant at best, had quietly set up a trust fund for my brother's children, but there was nothing for mine. Nothing. My heart sank when I first found out. At the time,

I was struggling with how little attention my parents paid to my kids. They barely acknowledged their birthdays, let alone offered any kind of financial help or emotional support. But this? This was a slap in the face. I remember sitting down with my mom one day, trying to figure out why they'd never shown any real interest in our lives, and her response was blunt, almost cruel. She told me that my kids would turn out like their father, as if their fate was sealed the moment Alex and I decided to have a family together. It was clear she believed they would never amount to much, that they were somehow destined to fail because of me and Alex's decisions. But hearing it from her, in such a cold,

dismissive way, made me feel small. My children, who were bright, kind, and and resilient, had been written off before they even had a chance to prove themselves. My mind kept circling back to that trust fund. I knew my parents had always favored my brother he could do no wrong in their eyes. He had made all the right choices in their eyes. He had taken over the family business, my father still took all the decisions, had a flashy lifestyle, and kept them in the loop about his successes. But that didn't mean they had to ignore my children like this. Alex had always been a steady presence, a balance to the chaos my parents created. He had a successful career as an architect, and although he worked long hours, he made sure

our family was his top priority. He was a good man, solid and dependable, and the kids adored him. We had built our lives together, and I couldn't have asked for a better partner. But when I shared my discovery about the trust fund with him, he was livid for our kids. The years had not been easy. My parents' treatment of me and my children had always been strained, but their favoritism toward my brother was something I had learned to live with. They had money, they had status, and they held it all over my head as if I was supposed to be grateful.

But the truth was, it had always felt like I was competing for their approval, and no matter how hard I tried, I always lost. I'd come to accept the fact that they would never see my children as worthy of the same recognition as my brother, but I never expected them to go so far as to set up a trust fund for his kids, pouring money and resources into them from the moment they were conceived, while mine were left with nothing. It wasn't just the financial part that hurt. It was the fact that they didn't even consider my kids worthy of their time. Alex knew my parents weren't exactly warm and fuzzy, but hearing about the trust fund, hearing that they'd been secretly helping

my brother's family all along while they ignored ours, hit him hard. He knew how hard we had worked to make sure our kids had everything they needed without help from anyone, least of all them. And still, we were left out in the cold. But what hurt the most was that they never even acknowledged what I had achieved. They had made it clear that I wasn't the one they were proud of. It wasn't about the money, but the idea that no matter how hard I worked, I could never be as good in their eyes as my brother. I always knew there was a certain level of favoritism from my parents, but this? This was a betrayal I hadn't seen coming. It felt like my brother could do no wrong, and yet he'd never shown any real interest in his

children's lives. He had done the bare minimum as a father, but in my parents' eyes, that was enough. They had never seemed to care about how hard I worked to provide for my kids, to raise them with the kind of integrity and values they'd never given me. The real turning point came when I realized how deep this favoritism ran. I had assumed that maybe, just maybe, if I played along and did everything right, they'd eventually see me as someone worth investing in. But it wasn't about me. It was about the status and the image. I wasn't the golden child, and neither were my kids. And as much as that realization stung, it was also a turning point for me. I didn't need their validation. My kids didn't need their money. We were better off without them in our lives.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, but the more I thought about it, the more I understood the full scope of what had been going on. For years, my brother had been the one they'd lavish their attention on. They didn't just give him money, they gave him a pass. The things they had quietly provided for him over the year's money, advice, connections were things I had never been offered. I had always been expected to figure things out on my own, but he'd had it easy, and now his children were getting the same treatment. It was clear now that they had been helping his family behind the scenes, without us ever knowing, while pretending to be there for us when it suited them. This was no longer just a matter of financial inequality. It was about the way

they had treated me and my children like second-class members, expecting us to be grateful for whatever scraps they tossed our way. At that moment, I knew things were never going to change. I didn't need their approval, and I sure as hell wasn't going to beg for it. My kids deserved better, and they were getting it. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I had spent far too long trying to prove something to people who didn't care about me or my children. It was time to let go of the idea that they would ever see us as equals. My kids didn't need my parents, and I didn't need their validation. We were fine just as we were. Update 3, it had been a few weeks since my parents had an attempt to reconnect with the kids,

but despite their best efforts, my children were having none of it. I could tell by their faces they weren't buying it. After years of being dismissed, ignored, and treated like they were second-class members in my parents' eyes, they weren't suddenly going to accept the new, loving grandparents my parents tried to become overnight. The facade was just too much for them. My son, Jake, had been particularly vocal about it. He was never shy about calling people out when he felt they were being fake, and that's exactly

how he saw my parents' attempts to reach out. I'd heard him mutter under his breath more than once, now they want to play nice. It's too little, too late. It wasn't just Jake. Lily, my daughter, who usually kept to herself when it came to family matters, had made it very clear with her actions. Whenever my parents tried to call or text, she would ignore them. They even showed up at school twice, she would walk past them without saying a word. It hurt, honestly. but as much as I wanted my kids to have a good relationship with their grandparents, I couldn't fault

them. They were standing up for themselves, for the years of hurt they'd endured because my parents never thought they were worthy of their love or support. I was proud of them, but part of me wished things could be different. It would have been easier if we could have all just moved past the past and had a harmonious family. But that wasn't going to happen. My parents had set the tone, and now they had to live with the consequences. After a couple of failed attempts, my parents began to escalate things. They started calling me, leaving increasingly desperate messages, urging me to get the kids to give them another chance. But it wasn't just the usual please anymore. They were now playing the guilt card, and it was becoming harder to ignore.

One night, my phone rang as I was getting ready to go to bed. It was my mom, her voice soft and shaky as if she were on the verge of tears. She said that they'd been trying to reach out to the kids and that they weren't getting anywhere. She sounded so different, so vulnerable, that for a second, I almost felt sorry for her. But then she dropped the bomb. She said, you know, your father and I were not getting any younger. Our health isn't what it used to be, and we just want to make sure we have some time with your kids before. She trailed off, and I could almost hear the unspoken before it's too late hanging in the air. She added that my father wanted to introduce Jake to the business. It was manipulative, and I knew it. I could feel the guilt creeping in, but I pushed it aside.

This wasn't about me, it was about my children. My parents had never shown the kind of care they were pretending to now. They hadn't bothered to be there for the milestones, the birthdays, the times when my kids needed a solid support system. Now, when they had nothing else left to, offer, they were using their health as a way to force me into a corner. But not after everything they'd done. They'd made their choices. It wasn't about loyalty, it was about respect. And they had lost my respect a long time ago. Later that evening, I sat down with Alex after the kids had gone to bed. I told him about the phone call, about the guilt they were trying to lay on me. He was quiet for a long moment, his face thoughtful. Then he said,

you know how I feel about them, but this is different. The kids have already made their choice. They've been through enough. You can't force them to forgive. And they shouldn't have to. It was true. I'd been raised to believe in family loyalty, in forgiveness, but my loyalty had been stretched then. And my kids were the ones who had suffered the most. I went to Jake and Lily the next day to talk to them, to see how they were feeling. I knew the situation was complicated, and I wanted to make sure they knew they had my full support, no matter what. Jake, sitting on the couch with his headphones around his neck, didn't even look up when I sat next to him. He already knew what I was going to ask. He sighed and finally said,

Mom, I just, I don't get it. Why did they think they can just show up and expect everything to be fine. They didn't care when we were growing up, and now, all of a sudden, they want to pretend like we're part of the family? Lily, overhearing the conversation, joined us in the living room. She was quieter but just as resolute. She said, it's not like we hate them. We just don't trust them. They've never been there when we needed them. And I don't think we should have to act like nothing happened just because they're suddenly saying sorry when it's convenient for them. I looked at both of them, my heart swelling with pride. They were so strong, so clear in their convictions.

I had raised them to be thoughtful, independent, and kind, but to also understand the value of standing up for themselves. They were doing that now, and I couldn't have been prouder. I told them that I understood, that I respected their decision, and that they didn't owe anyone forgiveness if they weren't ready for it. This was their choice. I also reassured them that they didn't have to worry about me trying to force them into any kind of relationship with my parents.

I would always have their backs, no matter what. And so, my parents' attempts to guilt-trip them only solidified the distance between us. They were getting desperate now, sending more messages, asking me to convince the kids. But there was nothing left to say. My children had made it clear where they stood, and that was where I stood, too. Update 4 The next day, I called my parents, knowing this conversation had been long overdue. When they picked up the phone, I didn't waste time on pleasantries.

I went straight into it, telling them exactly what Jake and Lily had said. There was no room for sugar-coating anymore. I could hear my mother's breath catch on the other end of the line as I described how they had both made it clear they weren't interested in a relationship with them. They weren't interested in playing pretend. They didn't need their grandparents' approval, not after all the years of being ignored or belittled. I told them that they had said they wouldn't even pretend anymore. Honestly, I couldn't blame them.

They'd never even made the effort with them when they were younger, but now they were acting like they'd been their biggest supporters all along. They saw right through it. There was a long pause. I could practically hear the gears turning in my mother's head, trying to figure out how to twist the narrative to her benefit. I knew exactly what she'd say next she'd tried to convince me it was all a misunderstanding, that they never meant to hurt anyone. It was the same old story, the same manipulation. But I wasn't interested in that anymore. This wasn't about me. This wasn't

even about them anymore. It was about Jake and Lily. She tried to recover, saying that she just didn't know how to make them understand. Her voice was tight, trying to regain some but I wasn't buying it. I told her that it wasn't her job to make them understand anymore. She had already done enough damage. She'd been doing it for years. I was done trying to convince them to get over it, and so were Jake and Lily. After that, there was an uncomfortable silence. My parents were clearly stung by what I'd said, but I wasn't about to back down. They'd had decades to do the right thing, to show some care for me and my kids, and now it was to be. too late. I ended the conversation as bluntly as I could. I didn't need to say anymore. There was no

point. Later that evening, I received a call from my brother. I had been expecting it, but that didn't mean I was ready for it. His tone was as insufferable as ever, the kind of voice that made it clear he thought he could win anyone over with a few well-chosen words and his charm. He told me that he'd been talking to Mom and Dad. They were really upset, and he had been thinking that maybe there was a way we could all come to an agreement here. I immediately knew where this was going. He wanted me to soften up, to let bygones be bygones, to pretend like nothing had happened just because their money was on the table. I told him that I wasn't interested. We didn't need their help. We had done just fine without it. But he didn't get the hint. He said

that he understood I was upset, but let's be real. The money could make a huge difference, right? The kids could really benefit from it, and he had seen how much it had helped his kids. I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me. I told him that I knew exactly how much his kids had benefited. They were living in a bubble because of that money, spending it on whatever ridiculous thing they wanted without a second thought. And that included him and his wife, by the way. I wasn't blind to how they flaunted it like it was some kind of badge of honor.

He tried to defend himself, but I didn't let up. I told him that he'd been letting them fund his whole life. He, his wife, and his kids all of them were living this lavish existence all because he couldn't stand on his own two feet. He couldn't figure out how to make it without them. So he kept going back for more. And now, he was trying to act like he was so much better than me. I paused, letting him process my words. Then I told him that his kids, they were spoiled rotten, acting like money could fix everything. That's all they knew. They didn't have any real sense of work or struggle. They'd been handed everything,

and he was setting them up to fail when the bubble popped. It was pathetic. There was a rare silence on his end. I didn't give him the chance to speak. I told him that I'd been doing just fine without their help. Jake and Lily had been raised with values, with a real work ethic. We had built our own success, and that was more than I could say for him or his kids. He was trying to gather his composure. It didn't take long before he spoke again, his voice defensive, trying to regain some semblance of control. He said that I didn't understand, okay?

His kids were thriving. They weren't like mine. They were living the life they deserved. I cut him off sharply. I told him that his kids were thriving on other people's hard work. They hadn't earned a damn thing, but they'd learned soon enough. And so would he, when that money ran out. There was a long pause.

I could almost hear the gears in his mind turning, trying to figure out what to say next. Finally, he sighed and said that he didn't know why I had to be so difficult about this. All he was offering was help. I shook my head, even though he couldn't see me. I told him that he wasn't offering help. He was offering to let me fall into the same trap he had. No, thanks. We both knew the conversation was over at that point.

He wasn't going to change my mind, and I wasn't going to change his. But it felt good to finally say the things I'd been holding back for so long. It felt good to remind him that he had no moral high ground to stand on, not when he'd been living off my parents' handouts all these years. I had everything I needed, and it was more than enough.