My parents blamed me for my brother’s drunk driving crash and kicked me out. Years later, he lost his job, dragged them down with him, and all three expected to live in my house like nothing happened. I never thought I’d hear from my parents again after what they did to me. But here we are. I’m 25 now, and out of the blue, my parents have asked if they can move into my house.
These are the same parents who kicked me out when I was 17 years old. They handed me a trash bag for my clothes and slammed the door behind me. All because of my brother’s drunk driving accident, which they somehow decided was my fault. Let me back up and give some context. I grew up with just one sibling, my older brother. Let’s call him Jake now, 27.
Jake was the golden child. He could do no wrong in my parents’ eyes. If he got into trouble at school, they’d find a way to blame me for distracting him. If something around the house broke, it was automatically my fault, even if I wasn’t anywhere near it. That was our whole childhood. He was the star and I was the scapegoat.
Despite that dynamic, I tried my best to stay out of trouble and not rock the boat. By my teenage years, I mostly kept my head down and spent a lot of time at friends houses to avoid the constant favoritism at home. I figured once I turned 18, I could move out on my own terms and finally be free of all that drama.
Unfortunately, I never got the chance because I was forced out at 17. Here’s what happened. One night during my junior year of high school, my brother had a serious car accident. He had been out partying with friends and tried to drive home drunk. I wasn’t there. I was actually at home that night studying for an exam. Jake lost control of his car and ended up crashing into a fence and a parked car.
Thankfully, he survived and didn’t seriously hurt anyone else. Miraculously, no other people were in the car he hit, but his car was totaled and he wound up in the hospital with a broken arm and a concussion. When my parents got the call about the accident, they rushed to the hospital. I remember waking up to my aunt, my mom’s sister calling our house phone to tell me what happened.
By the time I got to the hospital waiting room, my parents were beside themselves with anxiety and anger. But to my shock, their anger wasn’t directed at Jake. It was at me. As soon as my father saw me, he started yelling that the crash was my fault. I was completely confused and asked what on earth he was talking about.
Jake was the one who chose to drink and drive. I hadn’t even been there. My mom was crying and wouldn’t even look at me. My father kept ranting that I must have done something to upset Jake earlier that day. Something that drove him to go out drinking. Earlier that evening, we did have a typical sibling argument over dinner. I had teased Jake about his new girlfriend in front of our parents.
It was harmless teasing, nothing major, but he got embarrassed and mad. Dad yelled at me at the dinner table for disrespecting my brother. Jake stormed out of the house afterward, probably to blow off steam with his friends. That was the last I saw of him until after the accident. Apparently, in my father’s mind, that little spat at dinner was the direct cause of Jake’s drunk driving crash later that night.
It made no sense to me. Jake was almost 19, an adult, responsible for his own decisions. And I certainly didn’t make him drink or drive. But my father didn’t want to hear any of that. In the waiting room, he got right in my face, shouting that I had driven my brother to this. According to him, I stressed Jake out and made him reckless.
I remember him yelling, “Your brother could have been killed, and it would have been your fault.” It was so unfair, I couldn’t even process it. I was a 17-year-old being blamed for something completely out of my control. Even as I stammered, that I never meant to upset Jake, and that he was responsible for his own actions, my father wouldn’t have it.
He told me to shut up and bark that I’d done enough. Things escalated to the point where the hospital staff asked us to leave because my dad was causing a scene. I left the hospital with my parents crying, thinking once we all calmed down, they’d realize how ridiculous it was to blame me.
I figured my dad just needed to cool off. But the second we got home, he turned to me and said, “Go to your room and pack your things. You’re not living here anymore.” At first, I thought I must have misheard or that he was just bluffing out of anger. I looked at my mom, hoping she would object, but she just stood there tearyeyed and silent.
My dad followed me to my room, handed me a big black trash bag, and told me to put your crap in here and get out. I was in shock and started sobbing, trying to plead with him, but he just kept telling me to hurry up. In about 20 minutes, I was thrown out the door with my garbage bag of stuff. My dad slammed the door behind me.
Just like that, I was a homeless 17-year-old in the middle of the night with nowhere to go. I ended up walking a couple of miles to my friend Mia’s house. Her parents were shocked, but kindly took me in that night. Thanks to help from kind people like Mia’s family, I managed to finish high school. I worked part-time and eventually put myself through community college.
It was extremely hard, but I survived. My parents never once checked to see if I was okay during those years. It was like I ceased to exist for them as soon as that door shut. Fast forward about 8 years to now. I’m 25 years old. I graduated community college and even went on to get a bachelor’s degree.
I have a stable job and recently I achieved a big personal milestone. I bought a small house. I’m proud to call it mine, especially given how my life started out. I built all of this completely on my own with zero help from my family. In all those years, I’ve had virtually no contact with my parents or my brother.
I heard bits of news about them occasionally from extended family. From what I gather, Jake recovered from his injuries and continued to be the center of my parents’ world. A couple years after I was kicked out, they sold our old house and downsized to a smaller apartment. None of them ever tried to reach out to me.
In all that time, we remained completely aranged. Now, out of the blue, my parents have gotten back in touch. I was completely caught off guard. My mom left a voicemail saying she and my dad really needed to talk to me about something important. Honestly, my first thought was maybe someone died or had a serious emergency.
I almost didn’t call back, but curiosity and a bit of worry got the better of me, so I did. When I returned my mom’s call, she actually sounded relieved that I called. There was a bit of awkward small talk. She asked how I’ve been. I answered very generally and then I waited for her to explain why she contacted me.
She finally got to the point. My parents want to know if they can move in with me for a while. I asked her, “Are you serious?” Probably in a pretty incredulous tone. She explained that my brother Jake has lost his apartment and moved back in with them and now they are all going through a rough patch. Essentially, it sounds like my brother is having some trouble and my parents are having financial problems because of it.
They have that small two-bedroom apartment. And with Jake moving back home and presumably not paying rent, my parents are struggling to make ends meet. So, their grand plan was to ask me if they could all stay at my house for a while until they get back on their feet. My mom tried to make it sound almost like a family reunion.
She said something about how maybe this is a chance for us all to be together again and heal old wounds. She emphasized it would be temporary, just until we get settled again. She was talking like I owed it to them bringing up how we’re still family and that families support each other. I was pretty much speechless.
I have not heard my mother’s voice or seen my parents in years. And the first real conversation we have is them asking for a place to stay. And not just my parents, my brother too, presumably the same brother whose actions got me kicked out. The audacity is mindblowing to me. What gets me is that neither of them even hinted at an apology during this call.
Not a single were sorry for how we treated you or any acknowledgement of the hell they put me through. It was as if none of that ever happened or as if it was just water under the bridge. Now my mom sounded a bit emotional. Her voice was trembling and I could tell she was stressed, but she did not actually say she regretted anything from the past.
She only said things like, “I know we haven’t spoken in a long time, but we really need your help right now.” I told her I’d have to think about it. She put my dad on the phone at one point. He didn’t say much. He just kind of cleared his throat and in a stiff voice said, “It would really help us out, kid.
” He used to call me kid a lot for what it’s worth. I gave an ambiguous answer like, “I hear what you’re asking, but I need some time to think it over.” My dad sighed and said something like, “All right, let us know soon.” And then the call wrapped up with my mom saying she hoped I would consider it because we all need each other now.
After I hung up, I just sat there on my couch in disbelief. I mean, these people threw me away like garbage, and now they have the nerve to ask me to rescue them, to move into my home, which I was only able to get after years of struggle that they put me through. I haven’t given them any answer yet, but my gut is to say no.
The idea of them and my brother living under my roof after what they did honestly makes me feel sick. They showed me no mercy when I was a vulnerable teen with nowhere to go. Why should I save them now that their golden child is in trouble? On the other hand, they’re still my parents and they’re getting older. A part of me wonders if this could be a chance for closure or for them to finally make amends.
I also feel a twinge of guilt at the thought of turning away my own parents if they truly have nowhere else to go. My mom did sound genuinely desperate, so I’m torn. Logically, I owe them nothing. They made their bed, but I do worry I might regret slamming the door on them if something bad happens. If I did let them in, it would only be with strict conditions and an understanding that we have to address the past.
I can’t pretend nothing happened. Without a real apology and some boundaries, there’s no chance this could work. That’s the situation. I can’t believe I’m even considering letting them back into my life after everything. But I am. I’m posting here to sanity check my feelings. Am I being cruel if I tell them no? Is there any chance that helping them could lead to something positive? or am I just setting myself up to get hurt again? For now, I haven’t given them an answer.
I told them I’d think about it. I’ll update when I decide or if anything changes. Update one. Thank you to everyone who commented on my original post. Many of you said I shouldn’t even consider letting them move in without a genuine apology, and I agree. I decided it would be wise to meet my parents in person to talk things through before making any decisions.
After some thought, I arranged to meet my parents face to face on neutral ground. I told them we could talk, but not at my house. We ended up meeting yesterday at a local diner for coffee. It was the first time I’d seen them in about 8 years. It felt really weird walking into that diner and seeing my parents sitting there.
My dad looked older and tired. My mom looked nervous. I sat down and it was awkward at first. There was this silence where none of us knew what to say. Eventually, I broke the ice with, “So, you said you needed my help. Let’s talk about that.” They explained that my dad was laid off about a year ago and hasn’t been able to find work since.
My mom works part-time, but it’s not enough. A few months ago, my brother Jake lost his job, too, and with no income, he lost his apartment, so he moved back in with my parents. With Jake back home and no income from him, they’re stretched to the breaking point on their bills. They rent a small two-bedroom apartment and my dad said their lease is coming up and they can’t afford to renew.
In short, they’re on the verge of not being able to keep a roof over their heads. I listened as they laid all this out. They kept emphasizing that they had no other choice and that it would be temporary. It was also clear my brother would be coming with them if I agreed. After they finished explaining, I realized neither of them had said a word about the past.
So, I finally asked as calmly as I could whether they felt any regret for how they treated me back then. I told them they hadn’t even mentioned it. My mom started tearing up and said, “Of course we do. We made mistakes. We were under a lot of stress at the time.” It was a pretty vague answer, not much of an apology. So, I pressed further, asking if they understood how terrible it was to abandon me at 17 and whether they ever intended to apologize for it.
My mom began to cry and said softly, “We’re sorry. We do regret it.” My dad muttered, “Yeah, we shouldn’t have handled it that way without meeting my eyes. It still felt half-hearted to me like they were only apologizing because I forced it and trying to downplay it as just handling things poorly.” I told them that wasn’t enough.
I said I still didn’t understand why they did what they did to me, why I was the one they took it out on. My dad finally looked up and said, “We thought it was best at the time. We weren’t thinking straight. Jake was in a bad way and we were afraid and angry. We made a bad decision. I’m sorry.
I acknowledged his apology but told them I still didn’t understand their thought process. My mom jumped in and said, “It’s hard to explain. It was a terrible time for us.” Still speaking in generalities. At this point, I was getting frustrated. It seemed like they either wouldn’t or couldn’t give a real explanation beyond stress.
I told them that from my perspective, they chose Jake over me completely and threw me away. My dad side, we can’t change the past. We regret it. What else do you want us to say? He sounded slightly defensive. I said, you have to understand it’s not that easy for me to forgive and forget. You basically cut me out of the family and now you want me to save you. That’s a big ask.
They said they understood it was asking a lot. My mom said I had every right to be upset and thanked me for even agreeing to see them. She even added that she was proud of me for how well I’ve done, which is the first time I’ve ever heard her say that. I did ask why they never tried to contact me in all those years until now.
My mom said she wanted to, but didn’t know how to make things right and was afraid I wouldn’t want to hear from them. My dad stayed silent. I spent some time calmly telling them how terrifying and painful that experience was for me and how hard I had to struggle after they kicked me out. I wasn’t accusing them with angry words.
My mom cried quietly through some of it and my dad just listened with a pained look on his face. By the end of it, I was emotionally drained. They had said sorry a few times, but it still didn’t feel fully genuine to me. More like they wanted to gloss over it and move on to asking for my help. Eventually, we got back to the present issue.
My dad asked, “So, what now?” I told them plainly that I was not agreeing to anything yet. I said I needed time to think it over and that their lack of a convincing apology made it even harder for me to consider helping. I also warned that if I did agree to let them stay, it would have to be strictly temporary and they’d have to respect my rules in my house.
They both readily agreed to that. After a couple of hours, we wrapped up. My mom gave me an awkward hug goodbye, which I let happen, and my dad patted my shoulder. They looked genuinely worn down and fragile. I’ll admit, seeing my once formidable parents like that tugged at my feelings a bit, but I also reminded myself that they brought most of this on themselves.
I told them I’d give them an answer in a few days. I’m still leaning towards saying no, or at most giving them a very short-term place to stay if I did say yes. I haven’t decided yet. One more thing, my brother Jake wasn’t at this meeting. It was just my parents. But that same evening, I got a text from Jake. I haven’t responded to him yet.
I’m not sure if I want to or not, but I am curious what he has to say after all these years. I’ll update again once I decide how to handle Jake’s message or when I have news on what I’m going to do. Right now, I’m just processing all of this. Update two. All right. So, I decided to respond to my brother Jake’s text.
I was very on the fence about even engaging with him, but curiosity and maybe a bit of hope that he’d finally say something meaningful got the better of me. I texted back, “Sure, what do you want to talk about?” He suggested we speak on the phone, so we set up a call later that night. Talking to my brother for the first time in almost 8 years was surreal.
I honestly didn’t know what to expect from him. It ended up being a bit of all of the above. When we got on the phone at first, we exchanged some awkward pleasantries. He congratulated me on the house and my job. I suspect our parents had told him about my life or maybe he saw on social media through mutual friends.
I thanked him and then waited. Eventually, Jake sighed and said something like, “Look, I know the situation is really messed up. I wanted to reach out because I feel like I should at least say something after all this time.” He actually apologized. He said, “I’m sorry for everything that happened back then. I never wanted you to get hurt or kicked out.
My screw-up messed up your life and that sucks. It wasn’t the best apology, but it was unexpected to hear him say those words at all.” I told him I appreciated it, but that sorry doesn’t erase what I went through. We then talked about the accident and aftermath. Jake was pretty out of it after the crash. Between the concussion and the guilt, he said our parents kept telling him to just focus on getting better.
At first, they told him I had gone to stay with a friend for a while. In other words, they didn’t immediately tell him they had kicked me out. So, initially, he didn’t realize I’d been downed. He thought I was just giving everyone space or something. Later, when he realized I was gone for good, he asked our parents what happened.
He says they told him I had decided to stay with our aunt and that I didn’t want to come home. He claims he was upset and urged them to reach out to me, but they insisted I didn’t want contact. I’m not sure how hard he really tried, but that’s his account. He admitted he eventually just accepted it and moved on with his life. He was starting college and was wrapped up in that.
He admitted he was selfish for not trying harder to reach out to me back then and apologized for it. It turns out my parents fed him a story that I chose to leave and cut contact, which is obviously a lie. I told Jake plainly that I never wanted to leave. I was kicked out. He said he believes me and that looking back he realizes how messed up it was.
We also talked about his current situation. I asked how he managed to lose his job and apartment. He was a bit defensive saying his company downsized though he admitted he hadn’t been a model employee either. As for the apartment, he confessed he fell behind on rent for a few months. He mentioned having some medical bills last year that drained his savings.
There might be more to it, but I didn’t cry. Eventually, Jake brought up our parents’ situation directly. He did try to tug on my heartstrings. He said, “Mom has been crying every day and dad isn’t the same anymore.” He also let slip that our dad had a mild heart attack about a year ago. News to me.
Jake said he’s scared that if they end up homeless, it could literally kill our father. I won’t lie, hearing that was hard. I don’t want my parents to end up in dire straits or worse. I told Jake that while I don’t want them hurt, I can’t just forget what they did either. He said he understood and that he wasn’t asking me to forget just to help them this once since they have nowhere else to turn.
I asked Jake what he expected me to do and if he felt any personal responsibility for what happened. He admitted it wasn’t your fault I drove drunk. You didn’t deserve what happened. Honestly, hearing him say it wasn’t your fault felt surprisingly good. I think I’d been waiting years to hear a family member say that.
He added that if he could go back, he’d have done things differently and that he’d been a coward about everything. He apologized again for not standing up back then. I’ll admit that phone call was emotional. I kept it together for the most part, but it was a lot to process hearing him apologize and acknowledge what happened.
Learning my parents lied about me leaving and finding out about my dad’s health scare. By the end of the call, I told Jake the same thing I told my parents. I hadn’t made a decision yet, and if I did agree to this, it would be under strict conditions. He said he understood and would do whatever it takes to make it work.
In the days that followed, I did a lot of soulsearching. Against my own instincts, I found myself leaning toward giving them a trial run in my home, mostly because I realized I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I refused. And then something terrible happened to them. And also because a part of me wondered if this might finally bring some closure or healing for our family.
Finally, I made my decision. I called my parents and told them I would allow them and Jake to move into my house temporarily. We agreed to try it for a maximum of 3 months with a check-in along the way. I laid out clear ground rules. They have to actively work on improving their situation. Job hunting, saving money contribute a bit to household expenses and respect my home and boundaries.
I also warned that if at any point this arrangement starts to hurt my well-being, it will end immediately. They agreed to all my terms without any protest. I’ll update again soon on how this living situation is unfolding. I’m cautiously hopeful I won’t end up regretting this decision. Update three. Hi everyone.
It’s been about 3 weeks since my parents and brother moved into my house. As I mentioned, I set a trial period of up to 3 months, but honestly, I’m already counting down the days and questioning if I can last that long. Let me walk you through how it’s been so far. At first, everyone was on their best behavior, extremely polite, and even having a couple of calm family dinners.
But within a week, small friction points started to crop up. My mom started rearranging things in my kitchen cabinet, saying she wanted to make it more efficient. I had to politely tell her to stop since I like things the way they are. She got defensive, insisting she was only trying to help. Jake, meanwhile, is still a slob.
He leaves dirty dishes in the sink. I keep finding myself washing them to avoid conflict and his clothes and shoes strewn around. I’ve reminded him to pick up after himself. He always says, “Oh, sorry.” and improves for a day before slipping back to old habits. Then there’s the job search or lack thereof. My dad claims he’s applying to jobs and Jake has applied to a few places, but most mornings he sleeps in, and I often come home to him playing video games.
I get that he’s probably depressed and unmotivated, but a part of me thinks, “Really, you can’t try a bit harder considering the favor I’m doing you.” So far, we haven’t had any big fights. It’s mostly these small annoyances that I either gently address or quietly fix myself to keep the peace, but the underlying tension is definitely there.
None of us has brought up the deeper issues since they moved in. We’re basically all avoiding those conversations and just coexisting superficially. And then a few days ago, I overheard my parents talking in the kitchen when they thought I was out of earshot. In a hushed, annoyed tone, I distinctly heard my dad gripe, “We just have to deal with it for now.
Once we save up, we’ll get our own place. I can’t stand living under her rules.” I didn’t catch my mom’s response word for word, but it sounded like she was trying to shush him. I was absolutely furious and hurt hearing that my rules basically just means basic respect in my own house and he can’t stand that.
It felt like confirmation that they’re just using me as a place to stay until they can leave and that they resent even the slightest bit of authority I have in my own home. That moment has been stuck in my head since. I haven’t confronted them yet. I wanted to cool off and not just explode in anger, but it’s getting very hard to bite my tongue.
Their entitlement and lack of real respect are becoming more obvious. I’m honestly doubting this arrangement will last the full 3 months. At this rate, I’m not sure it’ll even last another week. I’m debating how to approach the inevitable confrontation. I haven’t decided yet, but a confrontation is definitely coming.
I’ll update again once I’ve dealt with it or if things blow up on their own. Wish me luck. I truly feel like I’m walking on eggshells in my own home, and it’s only a matter of time before everything comes to a head. Update four, final. I decided I’d had enough. I asked my parents and brother to sit down in the living room for a serious talk.
I didn’t mince words. I told them flat out that I felt disrespected and taken for granted in my own house. I gave examples, the messes I was cleaning up, the boundary pushing, like my mom rearranging my kitchen, and the lack of initiative with job hunting. I said I’d let them into my home in good faith, but it seemed like they didn’t truly appreciate it.
My parents looked ashamed. My mom apologized for overstepping with the kitchen stuff. My dad said, “We don’t mean to disrespect you. We are grateful.” Really? I then mentioned what I’d overheard. I told them I heard my dad complaining about having to live under my rules and saying he can’t stand it.
My dad’s face went red, clearly caught off guard. My mom put her hand over her face. My dad tried to backpedal, saying he was just venting and that it’s been hard for him to feel dependent on his child. I told him I could understand that to a point, but it didn’t excuse him badmouthing me in my own home when I was doing them a huge favor.
I was emotional as I told them how hurt and furious I was to hear that. I reminded them that after everything they did to me, I owed them nothing. Yet, I still opened my home to them, and all I asked was basic respect. Was that really so hard? My dad looked away and mumbled, “You’re right.” My mom started crying and pleading that we all calm down.
Even Jake quietly said it wasn’t okay to back me up. I told them point blank, “If they resented me for having basic boundaries in my own house, then this arrangement was not going to work.” I said, “Maybe it was best that we end the living situation now because I wouldn’t tolerate being disrespected under my own roof.” That made my mom break down.
She started sobbing and begging me not to kick them out yet, insisting they had nowhere to go and that they were so sorry and grateful. It was hard to watch her cry like that, but I kept my resolve. I took a deep breath and told them, “I need to understand why you did what you did to me back then. You’ve never really given me the truth, just excuses about stress.
Why was I the one you sacrificed?” There was a long silence. My dad finally spoke, voice strained, because we were scared. We almost lost your brother that night. He looked at my mom who nodded through her tears. He continued, “After the accident, Jake was in a really bad place mentally. He kept saying it was all his fault.
We were terrified we might lose him. I wasn’t thinking straight. We needed someone else to blame someone other than him.” My mom spoke up crying. We thought that if we redirected the blame, it would help Jake cope. We weren’t thinking about what it would do to you. And by the time we realized we were too cowardly to face what we’d done.
By now, both of my parents were sobbing. For the first time, I finally got the sincere apology and explanation I’d needed. It was heartbreaking to hear, and it also made me angry. I quietly told them I appreciated their honesty, but that what they did broke me. I was just a kid, and they threw me away, and that trauma didn’t disappear just because I now understood their reasoning.
We sat in silence for a few moments after that. After a deep breath, I gently but firmly told them I still felt it was best that we not continue living together. It was just too hard for me and I needed some space after all of this. I clarified that I wouldn’t kick them out immediately, but that they needed to start making other arrangements.
They both nodded and said they understood. We agreed they would start looking immediately for somewhere else to stay. I even offered to help them find a short-term rental or lend a little money if needed, but my dad shook his head and said I had done enough. Over the next week, they packed up their things.
I even helped my mom find a short-term rental they could afford. The day they moved out was tough and emotional. My mom gave me a long hug, sobbing out an apology and thanks for giving them a chance. My dad awkwardly shook my hand and then hugged me and just said, “I’m sorry. Take care of yourself. Even Jake gave me a hug and quietly apologized again, promising to keep in touch. And then they were gone.
