Reddit Stories - Juggling CAREGIVING and Nursing_ SACRIFICE, Siblings, and STRUGGLES_

Episode Date: October 20, 2025

#redditstories #askreddit #aita #caregiving #nursing #sacrifice #siblings #strugglesSummary:Discover heartwarming and challenging tales of juggling caregiving, nursing, sibling relationships, and personal sacrifices. Dive into the struggles faced by individuals navigating the complexities of balancing responsibilities and family dynamics.Tags:redditstories, askreddit, reddit, aita, tifu, caregiving, nursing, sacrifice, siblings, strugglesBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/reddit-stories--6237355/support.

I hope you enjoy this story. I served as a caregiver for my father while holding a nursing position, as my favorite sibling spent hours gaming. Later, he and his partner attempted to claim my space, and my parents supported them. I, 28F, have been living with my parents, both 60, and my younger brother Jake, 25M, for the past three years. It's a situation I never imagined I'd be in at this point in my life, but here we are. I guess I should start from the beginning to give you all the full picture.

Three years ago, I was living in a nice apartment in the city, working as a nurse at a busy hospital, and in what I thought was a happy relationship with my boyfriend of five years, Mark. We had talked about getting married, maybe starting a family. Then, one day, I came home early from a shift to find Mark in bed with his co-worker. My world shattered in an instant. I broke up with Mark immediately, but I was a mess. I couldn't stand being in that apartment anymore, everything reminded me of him and our life together. Around the same time, my dad started having some health issues.

He was diagnosed with early stage Parkinson's, and while it wasn't severe yet, my mom was struggling to manage everything on her own. So, I made the decision to move back home. It seemed like the perfect solution at the time. I could save money, help care for my dad, and have some time to heal from my breakup. My parents were thrilled to have me back, and at first, it was nice to be surrounded by family during such a difficult time. Jake had moved back home right after college, about six months before I did. He'd always been the golden child of the family, smart, charming, and our parents' clear favorite. Don't get me wrong, I love my brother, but the disparity in how we were treated

was always obvious. Growing up, Jake could do no wrong in our parents' eyes. If he got to got A B on a test, they'd praise him for trying his best. If I got an A, they'd ask why it wasn't an A plus. When Jake decided to major in philosophy, our parents called him intellectual and deep. When I said I wanted to be a nurse, they asked if I wouldn't rather be a doctor instead. So when Jake moved back home without a job lined up, our parents didn't bat an eye. They said he needed time to find himself and explore his options. Meanwhile, I was working 12 hours shifts at the hospital, coming home to help care for dad, and still contributing to household expenses. For the first year or so, things were okay. Jake said he was working on his novel and applying

for jobs and publishing. I was skeptical, I never actually saw him writing or filling out applications, but I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, I was dealing with my own issues, trying to heal from my breakup and adjust to living at home again as an adult. But as time went on, Jake's job search seemed to consist mainly of playing video games and hanging out with his friends. He'd sleep until noon most days, then spend hours online or out with his buddies. When Mom would gently suggest he look for work, he'd get defensive and say she was stifling his creativity. I tried to talk to Jake about it a few times. I even offered to help him with his resume or practice interview skills. But he'd always brush me off, saying I didn't understand the

creative process or that I was just jealous because he had the freedom to pursue his passions. Meanwhile, I was working my ass off at the hospital, especially when COVID hit. There were days when I'd come home exhausted, physically and emotionally drained, only to find Jake lounging on the couch, playing games and eating the food I'd bought. I tried to talk to my parents about the situation, but they always made excuses for Jake. He's just finding his way, my mom would say. or not everyone's path is as straightforward as yours, honey. It was frustrating, to say the least.

Then, last week, Jake dropped a bombshell. He announced at dinner that his girlfriend, Megan, 23F, would be moving in with us. This was the first I'd heard of Megan. Jake had mentioned he was seeing someone, but I had no idea it was serious enough for her to move in. My parents, of course, were thrilled. They started talking about how nice it would be to have young love in the house again, completely ignoring the fact that we barely had enough space for the four of us as it was. That's when Jake dropped the real bombshell.

He said that since Megan was moving in, they would need their own room for privacy. And since I had the second largest bedroom in the house, it made sense for me to move to the basement so they could have my room. I was stunned. I looked at my parents, expecting them to shut this down immediately. but they were nodding along like this made perfect sense. That's when I lost it. Are you kidding me?

I said, you want me to give up my room for your girlfriend? You don't even have a job. Jake rolled his eyes. Come on, sis. Don't be so selfish. Megan and I need our privacy. It's not like you're using the room for anything important. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

Not using it for anything important? I use it to sleep after 12-hour shifts where I'm literally saving lives. What do you do all day, Jake? Play video games and mooch off mom and dad. Jake's face turned red. You don't understand. I'm working on my novel. That takes time and mental energy.

Just because I'm not punching a clock doesn't mean I'm not working. Have you written a single word of this so-called novel? I shot back. Because all I've seen you do for the past three years is play games and hang out with your friends. Children, please, my mom interjected. There's no need to fight. I'm sure we can work something out that makes everyone happy. But I was too angry to back down. No, Mom, this isn't fair. I work full time. I contribute to this household. I help take care of dad. And now you want me to give up my room for Jake and his girlfriend. when he hasn't lifted a finger to help or contribute in any way.

Now, that's not fair, my dad said, speaking up for the first time. Jake contributes in his own way. How? I demanded. Tell me one thing he's done to help this family in the past three years. There was an uncomfortable silence. Jake broke it by saying, you're just jealous because you're single and bitter. Maybe if you weren't such a workaholic, you'd have a relationship.

too. That hurt. More than I wanted to admit. At least I can support myself, I snapped back. I'm not mooching off my parents at 25. Enough. My mom shouted, both of you, go to your rooms. We'll discuss this when everyone's calmed down. As I stormed up to my room, I heard my mom comforting Jake, telling him not to take my words to heart. It made me feel like I was 15 again. always the bad guy, always the one causing problems. That was a week ago. Since then, the atmosphere in the house has been unbearable. Jake is giving me the silent treatment, which would be fine if he didn't make a point of sighing loudly and looking put upon whenever I enter a room. My parents keep trying to mediate, which really means they keep hinting that I should be

more accommodating to Jake's needs. Yesterday, my mom actually said, you know, the basement really isn't so bad. We could fix it up for you, make it cozy. I feel like I'm being pushed out of my own home to make room for my freeloader brother and his girlfriend. But at the same time, I feel guilty. Am I being selfish? Should I just suck it up and move to the basement? I don't want to leave because of my dad, his Parkinson's isn't severe yet, but he does need help sometimes, and I worry about him. So, Reddit, I need your honest opinion. for refusing to give up my room? Update 1, first of all, thank you to everyone who responded to my original post.

Your support and advice mean more than you know. I've been trying to take some of your suggestions, but unfortunately, things have only gotten worse. Megan moved in last weekend. My parents welcomed her with open arms, cooking a big dinner and breaking out the good China. Meanwhile, I was coming off a night shift and just wanted to sleep, but my mom insisted I'd join them to make Megan feel welcome. Dinner was uncomfortable, to say the least. Jake and Megan were all over each other, giggling and feeding each other bites of food.

My mom kept gushing about how wonderful it was to have young love in the house again, while my dad nodded along enthusiastically. I tried to be polite, asking Megan about her job and interests. Turns out she's between jobs right now too, having recently quit her position as a barista to focus on her Instagram influencer career. I had to bite my tongue to keep from asking how exactly she planned to pay for things. The next day, I came home from work to find that Jake and Megan had taken over the living room. They were sprawled on the couch, watching TV and eating snacks. The coffee table was covered in empty chip bags and soda cans. When I asked if they could clean up a bit, Jake rolled his eyes and said, relax, sis. We'll be. We'll be able to be. We'll

do it later. They didn't. The tension in the house is unbearable now. Jake and Megan make a point of being loud and affectionate whenever I'm around, clearly trying to make me uncomfortable. They'll start making out on the couch when I'm trying to watch TV, or giggle loudly outside my door when I'm trying to sleep between shifts. I tried talking to my parents again, but it was like talking to a brick wall. When I pointed out that I work full-time and contribute financially while Jake and Megan do nothing, my mom actually said, well, you've always been more independent than Jake. He just needs more time to figure things out. And Megan is pursuing her dreams as an influencer. That's a real job these days, you know.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Mom, I said, Jake has had three years to figure things out. And Megan has 127 Instagram followers. That's not. not a career, that's a hobby. My mom's face hardened. I think you're just jealous, she said. Jake and Megan are young and in love. They have their whole lives ahead of them. Maybe if you weren't so focused on work all the time, you'd have found someone too. I was too stunned to respond. Is that really what they think? That I'm just some bitter workaholic? I'm seriously considering moving out, even though it would make caring for my dad more difficult. I feel like I'm being pushed out of my own family. The house I grew up and doesn't

feel like home anymore. But I'm torn. If I leave, who will help Dad when he has bad days? Who will make sure he takes his meds on time? Mom tries, but she's not always great at keeping track of things. And what if Jake and Megan throw parties or do something irresponsible? I feel like I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. If I stay, I'm miserable. If I go, I'll worry constantly. I don't know what to do. Update 2, things have gone from bad to worse.

I've started looking for apartments, but I'm torn about leaving my dad. Every time I think about moving out, I remember the time last month when dad had a bad day and fell in the shower. I was the one who heard him call for help, who got him up and made sure he was okay. What if something like that happens and I'm not there? Meanwhile, Jake has stepped up his campaign to get my room. He's now telling our parents that Megan is claustrophobic and needs more space. I know this is a lie because Megan has never mentioned this before, and I've seen her happily squeeze into tiny booths at restaurants or small dressing rooms at stores.

But of course, my parents believe him. They've started dropping hints about how nice the basement could be with a little work. My mom even left some home decor magazines on my bed, opened to pages about cozy basement renovations. I've tried to stand my ground, but it's getting harder. The other day, I overheard my mom on the phone with her sister, my aunt. She was saying how worried she was about me, how I seemed angry all the time and unable to be happy for Jake. It hurt to hear her talk about me like that, like I'm the problem. The final straw came yesterday.

I had just finished a 12-hour shift at the hospital. It was a tough one, we lost a patient, a young guy not much older than me. I was emotionally and physically exhausted, dreaming of a hot shower and my bed. But when I got home and went up to my room, I found Jake and Megan had moved some of their stuff in. There were boxes on my bed and clothes hanging in my closet. For a moment, I thought I had walked into the wrong room. When I confronted them, Jake had the same. audacity to say, we thought you'd be cool with sharing until you move out. You're hardly

ever here anyway with all your shifts. I lost it. I started yelling at both of them to get out, to take their stuff and leave my room. Megan started crying, saying I was being mean and unfair. Jake put his arm around her and glared at me like I was the villain. My mom came to see what the commotion was about and ended up lecturing me about being more considerate of Jake and Megan's needs. They're a young couple, she said. They need their space. Why can't you understand that? What about my space? I shot back. What about my needs? I work 12-hour shifts saving lives, and I can't even count on having a place to sleep when I come home? My mom sighed like I was being unreasonable. Honey, she said, I think you need to take a step back and look at the bigger picture.

family is about compromise. Jake and Megan are going to be starting their lives together. Don't you want to support your brother? I couldn't believe what I was hearing. And what about supporting me? I asked. I'm your daughter too, Mom. Or have you forgotten that?

The look on her face was a mixture of hurt and disappointment. Of course I haven't forgotten, she said quietly. But you're stronger than Jake. You've always been able to handle things on your own. Jake needs more support. I didn't know what to say to that. How do you respond when your own mother essentially tells you that you matter less because you're more capable? I'm at my wits end.

I love my family, but I feel like I'm drowning here. The unfairness of it all is eating away at me. I catch myself feeling angry all the time, snapping at small things. This isn't who I want to be. I think I need to move out for my own sanity. But the guilt is overwhelming. Am I abandoning my family? Am I being selfish for wanting to put myself first for once?

I don't know what to do. I feel lost and alone, even in a house full of people. How did things get so messed up? Update 3, I've done it. I've finally moved out. After the incident with Jake and Megan moving their stuff into my room, I realized I couldn't stay in that toxic environment any longer. It was damaging my mental health and starting to affect my work.

I couldn't risk making a mistake at the hospital because I was distracted by drama at home. Finding an apartment wasn't easy. I wanted to stay close to my parents' house so I could still visit my dad regularly, but rentals in the area are expensive. I finally found a small one-bedroom about a 15-minute drive away. It's not much, but it's mine, and for the first time in years, I feel like I can breathe. Telling my parents I was moving out was one of the hardest things I've ever done.

My mom cried, asking why I was abandoning the family. My dad looked hurt and confused. Jake, on the other hand, couldn't hide his glee and immediately started talking about how he and Megan would redecorate my old room. The day I moved out was surreal. I hadn't realized how much stuff I'd accumulated over the years. As I was packing, I found old photos of our family, Jake and me as kids, all of us smiling on vacation. It made me sad to think about how much things had changed.

My parents helped me move, but there was a tension in the air. My mom kept making comments about how I could always come back if things didn't work out. Jake and Megan conveniently had plans that day and couldn't help. I've been in my new place for two weeks now, and I'm still processing everything that happened. part of me feels guilty for leaving, especially because of my dad. I call him every day to check in, and I've been going over on weekends to help out. But it's not the same as being there all the time. Another part of me feels relieved.

I didn't realize how much stress I was carrying until I wasn't in that environment anymore. My apartment might be small, but it's peaceful. I can come home after a long shift and relax without worrying about what drama I'll walk into. Yesterday, I got a call from my dad. He sounded tired and said he misses having me around. He also mentioned that Jake and Megan have been arguing a lot, and he's finding it stressful. Apparently, Megan's influencer career isn't taking off as quickly as she'd hoped, and she's been pressuring Jake to get a job.

Jake, of course, is resistant to the idea, insisting that he needs to focus on his novel. I feel bad for my dad. He's caught in the middle of all this, and the stress can't be good for his health. I offered to come over more often to help out, but he said he didn't want to burden me. It broke my heart a little to hear him say that. After talking to my dad, I called my mom to check in. She was polite but distant. She asked about my new place and my job, but I could tell her heart wasn't in it.

Towards the end of the call, she sighed and said, I just don't understand why you couldn't work things out with Jake and Megan. Family should stick together. I tried to explain again how I felt, how the situation had become untenable for me, but she didn't seem to hear me. She just kept saying how she hoped I'd come to my senses soon and move back home. It's frustrating because I feel like I'm still being cast as the villain in this situation. My parents seemed to think I moved out on a whim, or despite Jake, rather than as a last resort after months of feeling disrespected and unappreciated in my own home. The guilt is still there, gnawing at me. Every time I come home to my quiet apartment, I wonder if I should have tried harder to make things work at home. But then I remember how it

felt to live there, the constant tension, the feeling of being pushed aside, the lack of respect for my space and my needs, and I know I made the right choice for my mental health. I'm trying to establish a new routine now. I still go over to my parents' house every weekend to help out and spend time with my dad. I've been teaching him how to use video chat so we can talk more often during the week. It's not the same as being there, but it's something. Jake and I haven't spoken since I moved out. Part of me misses my little brother, the kid he used to be before all this drama. But another part of me is still angry at how he treated me, how he seemed to have no appreciation for everything I did for the family. Megan reached out to me on social media the other day.

She sent a message saying she was sorry for how things turned out and that she hoped we could be friends. I haven't responded yet. I'm not sure if she's genuinely sorry or if she's just realized that living with my parents isn't the carefree situation she imagined it would be. As for me, I'm focusing on my work and trying to build a life for myself outside of my family drama. I've started volunteering at a local animal shelter on my days off, which has been rewarding. I'm also considering taking some classes to advance my nursing career. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I have the mental space to think about my own future. But there are still nights when I lie awake, wondering if I did the right thing.

Was I the asshole for refusing to give up my room and ultimately moving out? Should I have tried harder to make things work? Am I being selfish for putting my own needs first? I keep replaying everything in my mind, wondering if there was some. something else I could have done, some way I could have made my parents understand how I felt. But every time I think about moving back, I remember how it felt to live there, and I know I can't go back to that. So here I am, trying to navigate this new chapter of my life. I'm hopeful that with time, my relationship with my family will improve. Maybe Jake will finally

grow up and start contributing. Maybe my parents will realize that they've been enabling his behavior. Or maybe things will stay exactly as they are, and I'll have to find a way to accept that. Either way, I'm committed to taking care of myself and my dad as best I can. I'm trying to forgive myself for leaving, to believe that it's okay to prioritize my own well-being sometimes. It's not easy, but I'm working on it. So, read it, after hearing the whole story and how things have played out, what do you think? Was I the asshole in this situation?

Did I make the right choice by moving out? Or should I have found a way to make it work at home? I'm still struggling with these questions, and I could really use some outside perspective. Thank you for reading this far. Writing it all out has been cathartic in a way. Whatever your judgment, I appreciate you taking the time to hear my story.