rSlash - r/Offmychest I Just Experienced Poo Trauma

Episode Date: April 11, 2026

0:00 Intro 0:07 Bathroom trauma 2:14 Favorites 11:25 Wrongful death 14:12 Hard work Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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I've been on a medication that causes constipation for almost 10 years. Sometimes it gets pretty bad, but it's usually somewhat manageable. Until this time. I had a literal football size and shaped turd that I could not pass. I'm sorry, Opie, I don't mean to laugh at this. My butthole just wouldn't stretch wide enough. I kept tapping contractions. My dumb body trying to push the thing out.

but it was so large and so dry and rock solid that it wouldn't come out. I swear my butt was dilated wide enough to have a baby, but nothing was happening. I had to go in manually for it and break it into more manageable chunks. It was so hard and so dry that it took hours. All the while I'm sitting there, hand up my butt stretched about as wide as a big gulp, tears running down my eyes, wishing I would just spontaneous. die. By the time I was finished, every muscle in my body was sore. I felt like I ran a marathon. My butt hole feels loose and stinging. I could never tell anyone I know about this. The embarrassment

alone would be even worse than the hell turd. Thus, this throwaway account and this post. I just had to tell someone because I legitimately feel traumatized from this. I'll never be the same again. I'm going into post-traumatic poop disorder and panic next time I feel that familiar urge to go. I want you kids to remember this when you decide to try opioids. This is what your life becomes. Best case scenario. Down in the comments, people are talking to Opie and Opie says, My poor butt puts the wreck in rectum.

Then a much shorter story from Girl McGirlface. I had a similar experience postpartum. I didn't poop for eight days. I was moving houses on this particular day. I started the poop in the old house and finished it in the new house hours later. Childbirth was less painful and shorter. I was crying, clawing at the tiles and everything. Our next Reddit post is from Excellent Pumpkin.

So I'm a 33-year-old woman and the youngest of three. I have two older brothers, Alex who's 39, and Lewis who's 35. Our dad abandoned the family when I was still a toddler. And although my moms had various relationships across the years, the most part, she's been a single mother my whole life. I've always gotten the sense that she likes both of my brothers more than me. She was kind of a hashtag boy mom long before social media made that a thing. But specifically, her oldest, Alex, has always been her favorite child, and she's never been particularly shy about hiding it. To be honest, I think when my dad walked out, she started relying on

Alex to be her emotional provider, and things just snowballed from there. There's definitely a pretty high level of enmeshment and emotional incest there. And I'd be inclined to have a degree of sympathy for Alex about it if it didn't also make him the worst effing person I know. Growing up, he was a bully, plain and simple. He terrorized other kids at school and he terrorized Lewis and I at home. And I'm not just talking about some light name calling or pigtail pulling or standard big brotherly teasing. This kid was doing straight up Machiavellian psychological warfare. from the age of about nine. I won't bog this down with excessive details about any specific incidents,

but just know that he got expelled from two separate schools by age 14 for how he treated other kids. That Lewis ran away from home multiple times as a teenager, exclusively because of him, and that he locked me in the tiny cupboard under the stairs so frequently that I still struggle with intense claustrophobia even now. Our mother always defended and enabled this behavior. Other kids are lying. It's just roughhousing. The school is just pandering to soft parents. You and Lewis are being dramatic. You get the picture.

Anytime anyone else tried to reprimand Alex for any misbehaving, our mom would counter that by buying him a treat of some sort to make him feel better that everyone else was so mean to him. Obviously, that meant that none of our reprimands ever stuck, and he was never inclined to change. As you might expect, this enabling caused him to grow from a terrible, kid into a diabolical adult, just genuinely unkind and unpleasant to be around for any extended period of time. He's still the violent, mean-spirited, entitled brat he's always been. But he's also, unfortunately, superficially charismatic and charming enough to be one of those people that stuff never seems to stick to. Until it did, we'll get to that. He also managed to get two women to

marry him. The first realized what a turd he is and divorced him, though not before having a child with him. The second, Amy, has stayed married to him and is just as terrible as he is. Amy also has a child from a previous relationship, Jake, who was 12 when she and Alex met. I was as low contact with Alex as I could be without causing myself grief at that point, and I left for a job opportunity abroad shortly after, so I only met Jake a handful of times then. But to my perception, he was just a normal kid at that stage. My work contract meant that I lived in Canada for three years. And through my mother, I heard that Jake was a big issue for Alex. Apparently, the kid had all kinds of mental health problems, including anxiety,

pathological lying, and an eating disorder. And that was so hard for poor Alex to have to live with. I kept my sympathies reserved for Jake and took any information about Alex suffering as a result of his behavior with a hefty dose of skepticism. Turns out, I was right to do so. When my work contract ran out, my partner and I moved back to the UK. Jake was 15 by that point, and totally different to the kid I remembered. To be fully transparent, in hindsight, there were a lot of red flags I should have caught upon meeting him again, and my biggest regret will always be not intervening sooner. I've been told by multiple people that Jake had anxiety and an eating disorder, so I suppose I chalked a lot of his behaviors up to those things. However, a few months after I got back, Alex and Amy went on a

second honeymoon. The plan had been for Alex's daughter and Jake to stay with my mom. However, my mom fell and broke her leg just beforehand and wasn't able to take care of the kids. My boyfriend and I offered to watch them instead, and they came to stay with us for two weeks. It became apparent quite quickly that something deeper was going on. To begin with, it was immediately obvious that Jake did not have a restrictive eating disorder. Anytime he was offered food, the kid ate like he didn't know when he'd get the chance to eat again. And listen, I struggled with eating disorders myself in my teens and 20s. I know all about binge and purge cycles. This wasn't that. This was very clearly someone who was not used to having full access to food, reveling and finally getting it. He was also

very much overly polite, like he was afraid he'd be punished for not saying please and thank you enough times. It was obvious he was being mistreated at home. And I had planned to talk to him about it and escalated to the authorities if necessary anyway, but it reached ahead when I went to a friend's birthday dinner. I came home and found Jake hysterical and my boyfriend very stressed. Basically, my boyfriend had gotten the kids fast food for dinner, which Jake had seemed hesitant to accept. Later, after Alex's daughter had been put to bed and they were alone, Jake offered to do, oh no, Jake offered to do something incredibly alarming and inappropriately. for my boyfriend. Obviously, my boyfriend rejected him, and Jake had gotten upset and panicky and

started begging my boyfriend to let Jake get it out of the way now, because he thought my boyfriend would be, quote, kinder about it than Alex's. Basically, in order to earn certain privileges at home, Jake was expected to do certain acts with my worthless brother, and that treats like fast food typically meant something on the more extreme end. I'll assume you're all smart enough to fill in the blanks. Obviously, my boyfriend and I contacted the authorities over this once we'd gotten Jake settled, and assured that he did the right thing by telling us, and that nobody was mad at him. I also reached out to my middle brother, Lewis, who has very little to do with Alex, but I felt like if he'd noticed something, he would be another person in Jake's support system. My brother said that he hadn't noticed anything. However,

he confessed there had been occasions when we were kids where Alex had made inappropriate comments to him. And although nothing physical ever happened, Lewis always felt like it could based on Alex's other behaviors. My brother made it known that he was going to be in Jake's corner on this. Obviously, our mother was a different story. When Alex was arrested, mom called me in a fit of rage and really tore a strip off of me for reporting him. She said she told me Jake was a pathological liar, and she couldn't believe I tried to send my own brother down based on his word alone. When it was proven in court that Jake was telling the truth and Alex was sent to prison, my mother admitted that something had happened, but insisted that Jake had instigated it,

and was only exposing Alex because he was bitter he couldn't have him for himself, and he tried framing Alex as the real victim. She went on a whole smear campaign against this poor kid on social media until the courts got involved. and she got told she would face legal repercussions if she didn't stop. To this day, she maintains Alex is the true victim and doesn't belong in prison. And that's been enough for both Lewis and I to finally drop her completely. This all happened years ago. I have not willingly spoken to my mother since.

And to be honest, my life's been better for it. Earlier this month, however, she tried reaching out to both Lewis and I. Essentially, Alex had been paying for her lifestyle all of his adult life. Since he's in prison, however, he hasn't been able to financially support her as he used to, and she's reached a point where she can't live as she used to. She's not about to become totally destitute or anything, but she has had to sell her fancy car and might have to downsize from her big house to something more modest. She also said she doesn't really have anybody left in her life because, surprise, surprise,

it turns out when you support your child abuser son and tell everyone his victim was actually asking for it and just got vindictive when he didn't get his way, people don't really want to hang out with you. She and Amy had some dispute over money and are no longer on speaking terms. She's lonely and miserable and wants Lewis and I to help her with that. But I just can't bring myself to do it. It might sound terrible, but in my opinion, this is what she gets for four decades of raising and then defending a horrible person and enabling the suffering of his victims. Frankly, my only regret is not cutting her off sooner. And Lewis has said the exact same thing. Good, Alex and your mom can both rot. Our next

Reddit post is from Power Girl Lev. October 28, 2003. 10 minutes after I got to my uncle's birthday slash Halloween party, there was a loud bang, and then everything went silent. Everyone just stood there, staring towards the deck. Then I heard my mom scream my dad's name. I ran outside and saw him on the ground in a pool of blood coming from his head. head. His eyes were open. I dropped down and held his hand and kept saying, Hi, Dad, I'm here. You're okay. His head turned and his eyes looked at me, and then they closed. Then he started snoring. I was wearing this ridiculous orange inflatable costume, like one of those waving tube men. He had taken a photo of me inside of it about 10 minutes before.

It ended up being the last picture he ever took. I remember turning off the air and ripping parts of the costume off while I was on the ground holding him. I had this strange calmness the whole time, while everyone around me was frozen or in shock and didn't know what to do. Someone had bought a real 22 gun as part of their costume. They said it was a prop. They said it was unloaded. From what I've been told, my dad was holding it when it went off. No one really knows exactly what happened. They said the gun was jammed. A homicide detective later told us that he had never seen anything like it in 30 years. This all happened in a nice neighborhood in Maryland. One of the investigators literally said,

These aren't thugs, it's a nice neighborhood. Like, that somehow explained everything. It felt like that was the reason nothing really happened after. No real answers. No accountability. Just silence. I got in the ambulance with them, and we didn't move for a while.

I remember sitting there asking the driver why we weren't going yet, and if my dad was okay. He said, no, that's why we aren't moving. They're trying to stay. him. When we got to the hospital, my dad was put on life support. I was told the bullet split his brain stem. It was a fragmented bullet, so he didn't really stand a chance. My mother and sister arrived shortly after. We had to make a decision about whether to keep him on life support. Given the extent of the damage, it felt clear what the right thing to do was. If there even is a right

choice in that situation, sucks because I didn't even really get a chance to talk to him that night. I'm angry. Someone brought a real gun to a party. I'm angry. They said it was unloaded. I'm angry. My dad was the one holding it. I'm angry. No one can tell me what actually happened. Down in the comments, people are telling O.P. that he should have sued the person who brought the gun. And O.P. said, we did and ended up with a measly settlement because Maryland is one of four states with contributory negligence in play. Our next Reddit post is from According Desk. My dad is in the top 1% of wealth and still thinks wealth is just about working harder. My dad makes around a million dollars a year, owns millions in real estate, has a boat that costs more than most houses, and even co-owns a plane. And somehow, he still believes that anyone can get to his level if they just work harder. I grew up between two completely different realities. Half my life was around extreme wealth,

and the other half was with my mom and friends who were middle class or below. My closest friend was raised by a single mom under the poverty line. So I've seen what normal life actually looks like. What frustrates me is that my dad calls my generation and I spoiled and says I don't understand the value of money or the value of hard work. While he simultaneously paid for my college and bailed me out of major expenses, I'm fully aware that makes me privileged, I'm not denying that. But despite me thanking him and understanding what he's done for me, he still insists that I'm just a spoiled rich kid. While visiting him, we had a conversation about this, and when I defended myself saying that I did understand the effort it cost to make a living and that I wasn't just a spoiled rich kid, he gave me a shocked look while laughing and pointed at his house. He genuinely thinks that people struggling financially just aren't trying hard enough.

That if they wanted it that badly, they just get better jobs or start businesses. That's just not reality. I study finance and spend a lot of time looking at income inequality. I've set my expectations in life where I'm hoping for maybe 150k a year when I reach late career in my field. Hard work can absolutely get you a stable life. But getting to the top 1%, that's not just effort. That's luck, timing, connections, and where you started. If it were just about working harder, we'd have far more class mobility.

He fails to see how much luck played into his favor and that 99% of the population will never reach his position even if they try their hardest. Honestly, I think people at his level need to believe that because admitting otherwise would mean admitting they didn't fully earn it. There's a relatively famous study where they had people play Monopoly and they just gave one player extra money to start off with. I forget how much it was. But the interesting thing is when the player who cheats effectively, I mean they're allowed to cheat because they get extra money on purpose, when they inevitably win at Monopoly, the scientist interviewed the players afterwards, And the cheating players all said that it was because of their skill that they won. So that study pretty much tells you everything you need to know about human psychology.

The more people cheat, the more they say, oh yeah, it was totally all skill and my big brain and hard work. Not the fact that I started with literally five times more money than anyone else playing. That was R slash off my chest. And if you like this content, be sure to follow my podcast because I put out new Reddit podcast episodes every single day.