“Time to pull the plug, Pop! No one lives forever, you know!”
apologies to anyone who’s actually had to do that
Actually, I guess it was telling Mom that she’s an alcoholic (in an intervention), and telling Dad that I’ve known since I was 14 that he was gay.
Dude, what the hell is it with you opening threads that make me wanna cry?
Calling home from Hawaii to tell my parents the ex and I were done. Harder on me than it was on them.
That I was pregnant.
They really didn’t want to believe it… y’know, on account of my being male and all that.
Telling my parents that I’m going to marry a vrey nice, very well educated young man, who happens to be white, and atheist :eek:!
Well, I’ve told my mum, whom I think is secretly hoping we’ll break up, but if we don’t she’ll support me in the mpending struggle against the family As for my dad, he’s already told me (semi-jokingly) that he’ll only stand for me marrying a non-Indian man!!
**Biohazard ** I know this must have been a difficult time for you, but this entire compliation of your manic mind that once life changing time just cracks me up. Did your parents ever speak to you again? Are you a fundy? Did they post bail? Inquiring minds ( and nosy busybodies) need to know!
That yes, I was having sex with my boyfriend (I was 17 or 18 at the time). They’d found a letter I’d written to a friend because I was worried that I was pregnant (the condom broke). On the positive side, my mom did make me get on birth control pills. It also probably made it easier for my younger siblings to live with their SOs before marriage without them flipping out. But unlike my brother, I didn’t have to tell them they were about to be grandparents.
That I had invited a college-age guy that I met over the Internet to move into my guest room. Purely platonic–he really needed a place to stay, to get out of his parents’ house before something regretable happened.
Um…
Telling my terminally-ill mum, who caught caught up while in hospital, in an infectious disease scare, that I had to go away and leave her alone, surrounded by scary people all gowned and masked in case she infected them.
At least, I wasn’t the one who told her she was going to die in six months from cancer. The doctors and nurses blithely told her that one. 
How’s this then?
Mom, Dad, I’m pregnant with my transsexual lover’s baby. My husband is ok with it and will quit his job when the baby comes to take care of it. Wanna visit we don’t use the other bedroom, our king bed is big enough for all three. BTW: She and I both plan to nurse.
Telling my mother that my stepfather had been molesting me since I was six years old. I had to tell her TWICE before she believed me – once when I was eleven (she forced me to retract my “lie”) and again when I was sixteen.
Telling my mother I was an atheist in a restaurant when I was fifteen. She blew up, told me I was going to Hell, and “that’s where you deserve to be!”
.:Nichol:.
I once called my parents from college sobbing because my best friend (who heard from our other friend, who heard from her cousin, who was dating my little brother at the time) told me that my brother was doing drugs. I thought she meant cocaine, turns out it was pot. I got my brother busted for pot. :rolleyes:
I was way too sheltered until I got out of college. Now I share with my brother.
The hardest thing I’ve had to tell them lately is that I might want to move out of NYC after going against what they wanted me to do and moving here.
Ava
/pardon the hijack
Is that even possible?
“Good-bye”
Anahita, yes, it is. I intend to ask my endo about it at my next visit, mainly to see if he’ll let me have the drugs to induce lactation or if I’ll have to induce it manually (which is a pain in the ass, but doable).
::didn’t know that lee and KellyM were a couple. now feels incredibly oblivious and stupid::
Also, I can’t believe I forgot this one:
“No, I wasn’t going out with Anna!”
…it was hard because it wasn’t true…she and I did sort-of go out…didn’t want them to disown me.
'Sok, I haven’t told my parents yet either. 
That my son had died. I can still remember hearing my father shout bullshit. He just didn’t want to believe it.
Neither did I.
Had to tell my mom that she might be receiving a package in the mail from an ex-boyfriend of mine containing some, shall we say, explicit photographs of me. After we broke up, he found out that I had cheated on him and threatened to send them to her for revenge. ]
I went through the utter embarrassment of having to spill my guts to her, and then he never sent them…
Ain’t it the truth!
I have a younger brother who had been married EIGHT times, one wife of which had a child no one has ever seen or heard of since. There is a story about his other child that is too tragic to tell on this board.
My older brother was divorced four times.
Both brothers never finished college.
When I told my parents I was gay, I expected my father to go get his shotgun and my mother to stand in his way…WRONG. My mother got up, went to her bedroom and slammed the door. My father looked at me and said, “she’s still living in the 50’s…she’ll get over it.”
Mom didn’t speak to me for four days and I returned to Europe without saying goodbye.
However, later they met my lover and all was well…as a matter of fact, better than well. They got along great! Sadly, both my parents have passed away - but my lover and I have been together 22 years in February and I am so happy that I was honest and told them the truth. My advice to anybody reading this…fess up. Clear the air. Be honest.
You have one life.
Living a lie, or keeping a secret is psychological cancer.
I can’t hold a candle to most of these.
I once came home and told my mother and stepfather that I had had a collision. May 13, 1970. About a month before I turned 21. My car wasn’t insured, and they had to pay for the damage done to the other car, about $500 in 1970 dollars. They didn’t blow up at me but I knew I was in the doghouse.
I had been working as a dishwasher in a restaurant on the Redondo Beach Pier, for about a week. I don’t know what it is about me–maybe I’m just thin-skinned–but I had taken a great deal of emotional abuse from the others (those the same age) working there and I had enough. I walked home, about three miles, and told the parents I’d quit. They didn’t blow up at me then, either. (I think the cooks and waitresses regretted my leaving: I was the only one there tall enough to reach over the stove and remove the filters from the hoods.)
I used to go to a local laundromat, in a car with my stepfather–who would go to his favorite bar down the street. (Yeah, I know… :rolleyes: ) On one occasion, I came home and told my Mom, “Your purple dress shrunk.” She was furious (“that dress cost me thirteen dollars!”) [about 1968] In fact, the dress had not shrunk, and I was off the hook.