Families do not always have to like each other. Indeed, not every family member can get along very easily, whether it is classic sibling rivalry or butting heads with the in-laws. Yet, the one thing that can keep a family's bond from breaking is respect, until the day that respect is loss. Many people took to Quora to share reveal the moment at which they lost respect for a relative. The following stories prove that while blood may be thicker than water, skin can be even thicker.
"A little while after my brother died, my mother and I had an argument. She screamed at me, 'Why, why, why was I left with you?'
I didn't talk to her for a few years after that. After another argument between me and my mom happened, my sister came to her defense and wondered why I was so terrible to my mom. I told my sister the secret I was carrying in an outburst and stunned her.
After a while, I talked to my mom again. She said she was going through grief and apologized for what she said, though she claimed she didn't remember saying it. I forgave her. But that statement never goes away, you know?"
"My parents knew I had mild anxiety, which was getting much better by my own volition, when I was in my teens. One day, they came in and ordered me to drink some Gatorade. I have never trusted them so I was cautious and pretended to drink it but emptied the bottle out my window when they weren't watching. About 20 minutes later, they came in and started closing my blinds and asking if I was sleepy. It was clear that the drink was tampered with by now.
I told them no and they got angry and had a few people pin me down and throw me in the back of the car (Trunk/cargo area). They took me to a mental hospital and were claiming that I was out of control, ruining everyone's life and that I needed to be committed. They lied and said I had violent outbursts, hurt my dog, and said that I didn't go to school and that I tried to hurt them. The doctor there (amazing man) saw me keeping a calm face and calmly saying they were lying and told them to take me home or he would call the police."
"So, when I was younger, me and my sister used to spend a lot of time with my gran, particularly when my mum was working. Whilst it was kind of boring for kids, it was still nice and my grandmother was as lovely as you'd expect. Well, one day she had a stroke and was taken to hospital. After some long talks with my mother (between her and my Aunt Margaret since they looked after my Gran with things like this), she decided to be moved to a bungalow with support for the elderly. The big difference between this and a care home is that my Gran still had her own house, only now there were people who could help her just down the road, and alarm cords throughout the house.
So me and my sister continue to stay with my Gran maybe once or twice a week, my mum visiting just as much. Gradually, however, my dear old Gran got worse, and had another stroke, and then another. It was after this third stroke the bad stuff happened. The people in the 'village' decided to have a meeting about whether Gran should be moved to a more stable place now that her cognitive abilities were fading as well. But at the time, they couldn't get hold of my mother (in the days before lots of mobile phones) so they called another Aunt of mine.
Now, this Aunt is a complete witch. After she got the call, she called everyone except my mother and Aunty Margaret, the two that had done the most looking after her all these years. In this meeting they pushed my Gran into one of those terrible homes, and gained the equivalent of 'Power of attorney' over her. Me, my mum, my sister and Aunt Margaret had no idea where she had been moved.
For the last year and a half/two years of my Grans life, I had no idea where she was, and never got to see her.
As you can imagine, this is bad enough, but it gets worse. After my Grans death, it transpired that the witch of an Aunt had changed my gran's will, so that she got everything. She had also already sold everything that was in my gran's old bungalow when she had moved her into a old people's home. She then proceeded to ignore everything that my gran wanted in her funeral. She had always said to my mother that she wanted to be cremated and scattered on her dead husband's grave - witch aunt decided to bury her instead. Witch-aunt also had her husband, who barely knew Gran, give the eulogy, in which he basically just praised witch aunt's actions of 'looking after' my gran, and all but accused my mother and the rest of the family of neglecting her (Which is untrue, given my mother easily spent the most time with my Gran). I then had to sit there, holding my mum as she sobbed into my arm. She couldn't even bear to stay for the actual burial, and instead came back later, alone, to pay her respects properly."
"I was booking a cab from my father's phone and ended up accidentally glancing upon his task manager after I was done. I saw messages that made me realize that he was having an affair and was cheating on my mom with a lady from his school days.
Seeing those messages, I could feel my world crumbling down. I immediately shared it with my younger sister without thinking of the consequences. Some social media research helped to reveal more details about that lady. Both of us decided to break this news to our mother two or three days after her birthday. It was torturous for us to bottle up these feelings inside for those days.
Once we broke the news to her, it was a horrific sight. Her entire world came crashing down all at once. I could see her sob profusely and helplessly. When confronted, my father accepted his misdeed. My mother was somewhat determined to seek separation. I, too, was somewhat in her favor. My grandparents were not supportive of her decision, just in order to save their home from crumbling down and for the sake of the family's reputation.
My parents reconciled on personal terms and decided not to separate while my father promised not to make this mistake ever again. Maybe my mother just compromised for the sake of the future of her children, which might have been ruined otherwise.
My parents didn't want my younger sister to know about this. They are under the impression that she does not know, while she actually does. This incident changed my mother a lot. I have seen her sobbing. She has lost the happy nature she once had. She was once a deep sleeper, but now she has trouble sleeping each night.
All my life, I had respected my father, but this incident changed that for me. On the other hand, the respect I had for my mother increased a hundredfold. Ironically, the day I found out about his affair, my mother was telling her sister-in-law about how I idolize my father. During our confrontation, I told my father how he had lost all the respect I had for him - 20 years of respect, all blown away in a second.
We're still living under the same roof, but life isn't the same for all of us."
"I have a younger brother. I always used to, and still do, wish that I had an elder bother. I have lots of cousins. There was a cousin whom I always treated like my own brother. I respected him a lot because he had sacrificed a lot for his younger sisters. I loved talking to him a lot and also shared my experiences with him and asked him about his.
I had a month-long holiday during which I stayed at my relatives' place for a change. Many other relatives had come too. We all enjoyed our company together and shared a lot of stories and lame jokes. Every night, my cousins and I used to sleep in one room so that we could stay up late at night without disturbing the elders. Some of us had to sleep on the mattresses on the ground because there was not enough space on the bed. They took turns for sleeping on the bed. But I always slept on the bed because I was adamant about it. The cousin I treated as my elder brother, whom I will call 'Q,' also slept on the bed being the eldest one among us all. The third person to sleep on the bed would change each night.
One night, after a long session of gossip and laughter, all of us went to sleep in our already decided places. It was almost past 1:30 am when I suddenly opened my eyes. Something woke me up. I wasn't sure what did it. But, then, the reason soon became clear to me. I froze with fear upon discovering what was actually happening.
I felt something moving very slowly over my tummy. It was pitch dark so I couldn't see anything. I wanted to move, but I was too scared. His hands groped me for some time. I couldn't move or say anything. After some time, I felt his hands moving toward the upper part of my body from my tummy, I couldn't control myself. A tear slid from my eye but I still remained silent. It was horrible. I could never imagine something like this happening to me.
Finally, I collected some courage and took a turn to the other side. He then, suddenly, took his hand away from me. I turned over to my other side and just kept on hoping that he would stop touching me. He stopped. He might have gotten the idea that I was awake, so he turned to the other side and went to sleep.
As for me, I couldn't sleep that whole night. My heart raced too fast that night. It was then when I spent my whole night sobbing with at least eight other people in the same room. My eyes were burning and I had a very bad headache by morning. Soon the elders woke up, along with all my cousins, but I went to sleep only after Q left the room.
When I woke up after some hours of sleep I, again, remembered what had happened that night and felt very sad. I could not cry because the others were also in that room. I came up with an excuse to take a bath and went to the bathroom, which was the most isolated room. I called my boyfriend and told him everything. He got very furious and told me not to cry. I cried for almost two hours and felt very disgusted about my body and my cousin.
Then, I took a bath and joined others at the breakfast table. Q was there too. He seemed so calm and happy just like every other day. I couldn't look at him the whole time because I was sure that if I did so, I would start shouting at him. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to tell everyone about it, but chances were that I would be the one who would be scolded.
You should have taken care of yourself! You are a grown up now and we don't need to tell you where and with whom you should sleep. You are a girl. You should have known how boys are!
I was too scared to confront him. Instead, I texted him:
ME: 'I know what you did! You should be ashamed! Just imagine if someone did this to your own sister or wife or mother or girlfriend!'
Q: 'What are you talking about? Look, I seriously don't know what happened!'
ME: 'Don't lie! I wasn't asleep last night!'
Q: 'Look, I don't know what happened. I was asleep and whatever happened, happened by mistake.'
ME: 'How do you know something happened at night if you were asleep? Don't freaking lie to me.'
Q: 'Look I can explain everything. Just meet me in the bedroom room.'
ME: 'I don't want to talk to you ever. I loved you as my own brother. You proved today that I can never trust a male other than my father and brother. Shame on you.'
Q: 'Meet me in the bedroom. Look, I want to talk to you.'
I didn't respond and went back home on the very same day. I couldn't look into my mom's eyes for a week because it made me want to cry. Since that day, I have never talked to him. That is how I totally lost respect for my only elder cousin whom I loved a lot."
"So, my story starts with my wedding. During the initial days my husband and in-laws all were so supportive and so nice to me that I started to think I was so fortunate to get such a loving family.
Everything was so colorful, so merry...
Now I work in IT, and I had a crazy schedule. It'd already be 10 pm by the time I got home.
Two years of marriage flew by with such ease and, like a cakewalk, I couldn’t believe how great it all was.
One day I go to the doctor and find out I'm one month pregnant. This news came as a tsunami of happiness in the family. I was very excited, but I was still going to work. Just after a week, more good news came of my husband’s job, but he had to leave in the next two weeks to work away from home for a bit. As I was carrying and still going to work I couldn't accompany him. So, everyone decided that my mother-in-law would be staying with me to help out.
So, she and my sis-in-law came here and stayed with me. Everything was smooth. I was going to office, and depending on my health I used to do the household chores as well. But suddenly something changed. The behavior, the attitude, the care I was receiving - everything changed. As I was pregnant I used to have unnecessary cravings and mood swings, so I used to act weird (what I believe was the reason of the change). I used to go to work and come back all tired with swollen feet and no one to ask how I was. Both the ladies used to have their dinner and go to sleep, or just go on Facebook (which is more important than their family member, who is carrying their grandchild). But I used to think that’s alright, they must be tired. I got used to having dinner alone and going to sleep. I was seven months pregnant by them.
This kept going on. I tried talking to them, but they used to behave as if I was a stranger in my own house.
I discussed this with my husband, who was still out of town, and he obviously was not ready to believe me. He blamed me for not being able to build a smooth relationship with them. I was so hurt.
One day, I was talking to my husband, cool minded, and asked him the reason for the change from his mom and sister. I was told the REASON IS ME. They are forced to do all the house hold work and I am just coming home and eating. I was extremely hurt, and not knowing what to do, I cut all ties with them. I couldn’t believe how someone could be so rude to someone who is pregnant. My mother-in-law should understand as she herself is a mother of two.
This was one of many other incidents which never let me get close to her. Now, even if want to forget things and make our relation better, I am unable to do so. Everything comes back to me in my memories.
Now its just two women who are bound to be in a tag of daughter-in-law and mother-in-law. We don’t fight, but we don’t talk either. I don’t know when everything will be good, but now both of us has accepted this and have made a part of our lives."
"There is little that would cause me to lose respect for someone faster than an individual showing no respect to others, especially to my wife or myself. That is exactly what happened and it came from someone whom I had previously respected. It seems that respect was misplaced.
In the spring of 2015, I found myself unemployed. My wife also had not been working for a couple of months. Eventually, we found ourselves homeless. We pondered moving to an extended-stay hotel at which we could pay weekly. However, that would likely have been too expensive for us to maintain for more than a couple of months. My sister, aware of our plight, offered to let us stay with her and her husband on a temporary basis until we could figure out a solution.
My brother-in-law is a minister. One of the reasons I had grown to respect him was that he and I did not knock heads regarding religion. I am an atheist and he knows it. While he would ask questions from time to time about it, he never made any attempt to 'convert' me. I took that as a sign of respect and his apparent respect earned my respect. However, I would soon learn that he did not respect me after all.
It began when he came home from work, at his church, and asked me the strangest question.
'Why don't you leave your car running when you're not using it?' he asked.
'What?' I replied.
'Why don't you leave your car running when you're not using it?' he repeated.
'That's a strange question,' I said.
Him: 'Maybe, but why?'
Me: 'Well, for one, I can't afford to burn fuel unnecessarily. For another, why on Earth would I want to leave it running?'
Him: 'So you don't leave it running because it would cost money?'
Me: 'Yeah, I guess so. What's your point?'
Him: 'Why do you leave lights on when you leave a room?'
He was being arrogant, condescending, and disrespectful. How about a simple request, adult to adult, asking that I please try to remember to turn lights off?
Then, there was another incident a couple of days after that, when he came home and said, 'I feel like I've been duped.'
'Duped?' I asked him.
'Yes' he replied. 'I assumed that you would be looking for work while you were staying here, but all I see is you on the computer and on the phone all day. Members of my congregation are telling me there are help wanted signs all over town. There's no reason you couldn't be working right now. I want you out by the end of the month.'
'I have been looking for work. I put applications in every day.'
'There are jobs all over the place and you are, what, looking for a $60-an-hour job?'
Then I was angry. A minimum wage job would do me little good. I was getting more than that in unemployment. Furthermore, being a computer professional, OF COURSE, I was on the computer all day. You don't just go to the nearest grocery store that has a help wanted sign out and apply for a programming position. That's not how it works. I had been customizing my resume for dozens of positions and applying for them. I was putting in a minimum of five applications daily. That time on the phone - 70% of it was phone interviews and another 20% was recruiters. The remainder was largely a combination of seeking new housing, networking, and other activities related to getting out of the hole we had found ourselves in.
In between all of this, there were frequent jabs, snide remarks, and ridiculous complaints. Did my sister tell my brother-in-law to lay off and be respectful? No. She was the dutiful wife, backing him up every step of the way.
Within a few days, I had landed a position. I waited to say anything about it until I got the offer in writing. Then, I told my sister and my brother-in-law that my wife and I needed to talk to them. We all sat down and I laid it out to them.
'I received a job offer,' I revealed.
'That's great!' my sister exclaimed.
I then said, 'I have decided to reject the offer because it's not as much money as I was making before.'
Silence. Shock. Disbelief.
'I'm kidding,' I said, breaking the silence. 'I accepted the offer. We have a place to stay.'
'That's more money than I could ever dream of making,' my sister said, in reference to my new salary.
'That's because both of you think too small.'
Perhaps I should not have said that, but, by that time, I had lost all respect for my brother-in-law and was none too happy with my sister, either, for failing to get him to tone down the condescending attitude. I do not really blame her. After all, he is the man of the house, and that is exactly how they look at it. Then again, I am her brother.
I have forgiven my sister and have actually visited with her a couple of times since this all went down. As far as my brother-in-law, no. He no longer has my respect. He is an imbecile."
"My entire family is religious, Baptist to be exact. My mother is a very opinionated woman and she thinks that she's right almost all of the time. She is very anti-LGBT, as is my entire family, excluding my father, who isn't as bad. I was raised to be like them. I wonder if the thought of their only daughter being pansexual ever crossed their minds.
I had figured out last year that I was pansexual, so I decided to test the waters with my mother on her stance on the LGBT community. I thought that, due to the support online, she would stop being close-minded in this since I had. I was apparently wrong.
I cautiously asked her if she knew what a non-binary person was. She said no. After I asked, she looked up what a non-binary person was and she scoffed. She is very 'only two genders'-minded, apparently. After she looked it up, she told me that I was an idiot for thinking that they existed and that there are only two genders: male and female. That ticked me off and rightfully so, in my opinion.
Of course, I didn't forget what she said. I never forget things like this. But, a few months later, she sent me a picture she found on Facebook with a message that read, 'This reminded me of you.' The picture something along the lines of, 'People who don't support Trump believe that there are more than two genders. Isn't that crazy?'
I was mad. I sent her a screenshot of a list of biological genders in response. She called me a liar. I am still angry. I think the worst part of it is that she knows that it upsets me when she says derogatory stuff like this. I know she does. I wish she could understand that people sometimes have different opinions than other people do. I hate that I don't feel comfortable sharing my thoughts in my own home.
I could be wrong, but I believe she thinks that because I'm 13, I don't know what I'm talking about. I don't understand that, and how could I not? There are many, many people who agree with me, so I'm not alone in this line of thinking.
I am no longer religious and I don't think I'm planning on coming out anytime soon."
"My friend told me she was cheating on her husband, while laughing about how funny it was that her boyfriend would come over to the house and hang out with her, her husband, and their newborn.
After I told her that wasn't cool and we weren't friends anymore, she told everyone that I was sleeping with her husband and an abusive drinker. I didn't do any of that.
Happy ending- dad divorced and got full custody, I got new friends."
"A couple of years ago, I started dating this girl. Things went well, and she stayed over at my house quite a bit. Three months in, we're at each other's throats constantly. I'm ready for it to end. She stays a weekend with her friend a few hours away. During this time, I realize it'd be the perfect time to break it off. She's actually out of my house, and she took all her things with her to her friends' house. I call up, tell her it's not going to work, and then boom.
She tells me she's pregnant.
I immediately call bull. She backs it up with a freaking sonogram. At this point, I'm stuck. She tells me that the reason she went to see her friend is to have 'support' at the doctor's office.
At this point, I man up. 'Alright, this happened, and I'm gonna be the best flippin' father this kid can have,' was what was going through my head. She comes back home.
Things are tense. As she starts getting bigger, she starts getting more irritable. She always goes with her mother or a friend to her appointments with the doctor. I understand because it's a fairly feminine thing they do there, and I don't want to make her uncomfortable thus potentially causing harm to the baby.
One day she brings up a question. 'What if I have twins?' I say we'd just have to do the best we can. She comes back from her next doctors appointment with a sonogram clearly showing two babies. I think to myself, 'Welp, if things weren't already hard enough.'
Her appetite changes, as you'd expect. Every day she gets meaner. I catch her in a few small lies, stupid things. Stories she'd tell about her and her friends. She tried anything to make herself look like a better person than she did. Regardless, she was to be the mother of my two children. I wanted the best for her and, consequently, them. I did everything I could to make her happy. I ended up getting into more debt than I've ever been in.
We ended up tying the knot when she was about seven months pregnant. Small service, since we had next to no money. Well, save for her dress. Her family was poor, so I got a credit line with David's Bridal and paid for the dress myself. Everything else we scrounged together somehow. Mind you, she had no job and no intention of ever working so she was no help.
About a month later, things finally came to a head. Eight solid months of nothing but lies and snipping back and forth. I tell her it's over. I get in my car and head to my parents' house to talk things over with them. At the time, she was with her mother shopping or something. She didn't have a key to the house, so I figured she'd stay with her mom.
She breaks the window to the back door of my house, but not before trying to break the door handle and open another window to the house. She gets into the house, takes the spare set of keys to my spare car, and drives out to my parents house to confront me. She has no drivers license. Considering how she drove, I'm amazed that she didn't get pulled over.
She gets to my parents' house. I tell her I'm sick of her and leave. I go back home. She follows shortly afterwards, angry as all get out. She gets into a collision with another vehicle pulling out of my parents' driveway. The car she's driving? Totaled, but nobody is hurt. However, her water breaks.
My mother used to be a nurse, so she calls an ambulance and helps out at the scene of the wreck. Like I said, nobody was hurt. The paramedics load up my then wife into the ambulance. Dad calls me and lets me know what happens. Since I'm still in the car, I figure I'll go ahead and go to the hospital and wait. Dad meets me there shortly after I get there. It takes an HOUR for the ambulance to get to the hospital AFTER I get there.
Her parents show up and are worried. They know their daughter better than anyone and understand my actions. No bad blood. We're all just worried about the kids.
The ambulance finally gets to the hospital and we go from the ER to wherever they put pregnant women. She asks me to be in there with her, to which I partially oblige. Any time it was just her and I in that room, I head back out into the waiting room. Three hours pass without incident.
During these three hours, the nurses are trying their hardest to find the babies' heartbeats, unsuccessfully. They end up calling the top doctor for this kind of thing in the region. I know she's in good hands. Doctor comes in, does some tests, and leaves.
At the end of this three hour period, the doctor calls me into the room, and says to my then wife, 'You aren't pregnant. You never were, and never have been.'
I leave the room quickly without saying a word. I head back to the waiting room and let my parents and her parents know what happened. Me and my parents leave.
My rage is nearly uncontrollable. She lies to me the entire time we're together. She totals my car (mind you, it was junk anyway) and breaks a window to my house, leaving the door WIDE OPEN all night. Both of my cats got out and I had to hunt them down. THOUSANDS of dollars have been spent, by both families, for the wedding and babies' stuff. I had a house full of useless (to me) junk.
Worst of all? At first, I was understandably apprehensive about being a father. By the end of it, I was ready more than anyone to be the best dad to these children.
I end up getting the marriage annulled. I got a bunch of money for Christmas later that year as well, so I paid off all debts I incurred while I was with her. No remnants of her 'legacy' are to be found in my life, for better or worse.
During our time together, we ended up moving her parents from her hometown to mine, in a rent house I had. Like I said before, they were rather poor, so they ended up staying there for a good nine months after everything happened. Always paid rent on time, but I knew it hurt them. About four months before they ended up leaving, I told them not to worry about rent, so long as the utilities were paid.
Her father was pretty sick. Some reaction to a medication he was took awhile back for his his back pain. His back was fused, so he couldn't move his neck. He was a good man though, very nice. The news of what his daughter had become broke him. He died two months after they moved out. They did an autopsy and found that he had somewhere around three times the amount of some medication he was taking for his back pain. It was ruled a suicide.
Her mother ended up fighting for the settlement from the medical company that made the medicine he had a bad reaction to before. Only got about 20 grand. As poor as they were, it was gone in a week or two to pay off debts. She even paid me the back rent that I said they didn't have to pay.
I came to find out that there's a rare mental condition that can cause a woman to sincerely believe she's pregnant, to the point where her body starts making the changes you'd expect from a pregnant woman. For whatever reason, the police never fined my now ex-wife for the car wreck or anything else. I never pressed charges on anything, mainly because she'd never be able to pay up anyway.
Last I heard, her mother, who hates her with a passion, puts up with her mooching off of her still. They still live together, and she still doesn't have a job, forcing her 60 year old mother to work three jobs to support the household."
"My sister and I dance competitively and have been since we were 10 and 7 years old. It cost a lot of money, but my parents supported us both because they knew that we absolutely loved it. As I grew older, I knew I only loved two things: dance and theatre. My sister, at 12 years old, knew she wanted to be a veterinarian and have a stable career. I, at 15, only loved the performing arts, but I loved dance the most.
I wasn't exceptional. I knew that from the beginning. I wasn't an amazing dancer, or a fantastic actress. I was just... good. I came into dance later than most people, so I had to work extra hard to catch up, something I struggled with every day. School wasn't fun for me, but I managed to get straight A's in my freshman year of high school. I was very proud of that and so were my parents, who knew I had trouble with school, especially in the math and science department.
I want to preface this by saying that my dad and I had a very close relationship from the day I was born. We spearfished (something we cherished very dearly), hiked in many places, and traveled a lot. I wasn't embarrassed by hanging out with him like many girls my age were embarrassed by doing things with their dads. My sister was really much closer to my mom, so I was my dad's girl. Even though he had outbursts of rage that I couldn't explain as a young girl, I loved him a lot.
Then, in my sophomore year, something happened - my grades started failing. It could have been the combination of my teachers in school not being great, or the fact that my dad (who is very strict about grades) somehow obtained the password to the website with my grades on it. I had also developed some signs of depression and suicidal thoughts that I could never explain to my Russian parents, who didn't believe that anyone with a family and a roof over their head could have any mental problems.
I now had two B's in my first semester, as well as a C in AP World History. My dad wasn't happy, needless to say. I was ashamed of myself for letting my guard down and for not trying hard enough. I promised myself that I would do better and that I would try harder than ever before. I was always an okay student, never the best, but never at the point I was then.
January was theatre month. We had an annual theatre event to go to, a faculty musical, and a showcase to do. My grades started falling again. Three B's and a C in World History. My parents didn't care about history at that point, though, knowing how hard it was and how bad my teacher was at the subject. I had just come home from a dance event on a Thursday night when my dad called me into his office.
He showed me my grades, and I panicked. He yelled at me that I promised to do better, that it was only January, and my grades were falling AGAIN. He asked me where I was that night. I quietly told him that I was at a dance show. He yelled that I should have been at home, studying, not going to so many theatre events when I KNEW my grades were not the best. I should not have taken on so many performing arts nights in combination with my dance classes, he said. I began to tell him that I had not changed anything in my schedule from last year, that it wasn't my fault, and that I had terrible teachers.
But, then, he yelled out, 'YOU KNOW YOU'LL NEVER BE A DANCER, RIGHT?!'
I froze. I couldn't say anything. Tears rolled down my face.
What does this even have to do with my grades?
'RIGHT?' he yelled at me again, eyes filled with a horrific fire that I had never seemed to notice before.
He expects me to answer?
'Yes,' I said quietly. He continued to yell at me for 10 minutes or so. In the end, he forced me to quit theatre for the rest of that year.
I was not mad at him that he yelled at me about my grades. I was not angry at him for making me quit theatre. I was not even mad at him for not listening to me trying to justify the reason for my bad grades. I lost all my respect for him when he told me that something I had loved to do the most was impossible. I was angry at him for making me say, out loud, that my hopes and dreams would never come true.
I had worked so hard. If he was trying to steer me off the track of an unstable career choice because he was worried for me, he could have done it in so many other ways. He could have introduced me to new options and played to my interests. He could have outright said that if I was going to pursue dance, he wouldn't have paid for my college education. That STILL would have been less hurtful than the fact that he outright told me that my dreams were not possible.
I cried to myself for weeks and I gave up on dance for a while. My dad had outbursts before, but even the ones where he threw things around had not compared to this."