I (F, 22) started dating my boyfriend (M, 25) about two years ago. From the beginning, our relationship moved quickly—some might say too quickly—but for us, it felt natural, like we had known each other for years.
Some background: I’ve been living on my own since I was 18. I moved from my home country to the U.S. to continue my studies. My parents rented out an apartment, but I paid a portion of the rent and was legally in the contract, which made it my apartment too. My family has always been very close, but I’m a private person and don’t share everything. Even though I lived most of the time alone, my immediate family had access to my apartment. They usually respected my space and didn’t show up unannounced—until I started dating my boyfriend.
In the beginning, I was often alone unless my parents were visiting. After about a month of dating, I invited my boyfriend to start staying over occasionally. It wasn’t every night, but it became more frequent over the next few weeks.
Then, one weekend, my oldest sister (30) showed up at my apartment unannounced with her husband. She started banging on my bedroom door. My boyfriend was there, and out of panic—probably fearing how my family would react, especially since we’re Latin and my parents are very traditional—he hid in the closet. I followed his lead, even though I’m a terrible liar, so of course my sister figured out what was going on. She didn’t make a huge scene at the time but did tell me not to let it happen again.
Despite that warning, a few days later, my boyfriend stayed over again after a late night out. He lived 40 minutes away, and it didn’t make sense for me to have him drive back so late when he could stay over and then go home in the morning. After that, he continued staying over randomly.
A few weeks later, my sister came into the apartment again without notice—and again, my boyfriend was there. This time, she exploded. She said some really awful things to both of us and left. That evening, I saw on her live location that she had gone back to my apartment. I didn’t want to fight, so I stayed a few blocks away with my boyfriend, who was just giving me a ride home. But then she drove to where we were and started yelling at us in the middle of the street.
The next day, everything blew up. My sister told my whole family that I was a “whore” and made my mom believe I was doing something terribly wrong. My mom was furious that my boyfriend had been staying over. Things escalated quickly—they even installed a camera in my apartment to monitor me. It was one of the most difficult months of my life. My mom and sister turned almost everyone in the family against me.
Eventually, I had had enough. I transferred schools, moved to a new city, and started fresh. Now, I’m in a healthy, committed relationship, and my life is better. But the one thing that still hurts is that most of my family—except for my twin and my dad—don’t speak to me anymore, even though some of them live in the same city.
I’ve tried multiple times to reach out to my mom. I even went back to the apartment once to talk to her in person because it honestly made me really sad not having her in my life. That time, we had what felt like a meaningful conversation. We agreed to try talking more and to work through whatever she was still upset about. But every time things started to feel like they might improve between us, my sister would step in—talk badly about me to my mom—and somehow my mom would end up taking her side all over again.
To be honest, I stopped caring about fixing things with my oldest sister a long time ago. She’s been the one constantly fueling the drama, and it feels like she just doesn’t want things to get better between me and my mom. Among other things. That cycle has made it really hard to heal, even though I’ve tried.
It’s been almost two years since everything happened, and honestly, it’s still hard to process. I’m sure I’ve skipped over some details—it’s been such an emotional roller coaster that some parts feel like a blur. But I’ve started to really question everything and wonder: Did I really do something so horrible that they felt the need to cut me off entirely?
I’m genuinely open to any advice on how to handle this or gain some kind of clarity or peace. I don’t know if there’s a way to rebuild those relationships, or if I should just keep moving forward without them.
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Backup of the post’s body: I (F, 22) started dating my boyfriend (M, 25) about two years ago. From the beginning, our relationship moved quickly—some might say too quickly—but for us, it felt natural, like we had known each other for years.
Some background: I’ve been living on my own since I was 18. I moved from my home country to the U.S. to continue my studies. My parents rented out an apartment, but I paid a portion of the rent and was legally in the contract, which made it my apartment too. My family has always been very close, but I’m a private person and don’t share everything. Even though I lived most of the time alone, my immediate family had access to my apartment. They usually respected my space and didn’t show up unannounced—until I started dating my boyfriend.
In the beginning, I was often alone unless my parents were visiting. After about a month of dating, I invited my boyfriend to start staying over occasionally. It wasn’t every night, but it became more frequent over the next few weeks.
Then, one weekend, my oldest sister (30) showed up at my apartment unannounced with her husband. She started banging on my bedroom door. My boyfriend was there, and out of panic—probably fearing how my family would react, especially since we’re Latin and my parents are very traditional—he hid in the closet. I followed his lead, even though I’m a terrible liar, so of course my sister figured out what was going on. She didn’t make a huge scene at the time but did tell me not to let it happen again.
Despite that warning, a few days later, my boyfriend stayed over again after a late night out. He lived 40 minutes away, and it didn’t make sense for me to have him drive back so late when he could stay over and then go home in the morning. After that, he continued staying over randomly.
A few weeks later, my sister came into the apartment again without notice—and again, my boyfriend was there. This time, she exploded. She said some really awful things to both of us and left. That evening, I saw on her live location that she had gone back to my apartment. I didn’t want to fight, so I stayed a few blocks away with my boyfriend, who was just giving me a ride home. But then she drove to where we were and started yelling at us in the middle of the street.
The next day, everything blew up. My sister told my whole family that I was a “whore” and made my mom believe I was doing something terribly wrong. My mom was furious that my boyfriend had been staying over. Things escalated quickly—they even installed a camera in my apartment to monitor me. It was one of the most difficult months of my life. My mom and sister turned almost everyone in the family against me.
Eventually, I had had enough. I transferred schools, moved to a new city, and started fresh. Now, I’m in a healthy, committed relationship, and my life is better. But the one thing that still hurts is that most of my family—except for my twin and my dad—don’t speak to me anymore, even though some of them live in the same city.
I’ve tried multiple times to reach out to my mom. I even went back to the apartment once to talk to her in person because it honestly made me really sad not having her in my life. That time, we had what felt like a meaningful conversation. We agreed to try talking more and to work through whatever she was still upset about. But every time things started to feel like they might improve between us, my sister would step in—talk badly about me to my mom—and somehow my mom would end up taking her side all over again.
To be honest, I stopped caring about fixing things with my oldest sister a long time ago. She’s been the one constantly fueling the drama, and it feels like she just doesn’t want things to get better between me and my mom. Among other things. That cycle has made it really hard to heal, even though I’ve tried.
It’s been almost two years since everything happened, and honestly, it’s still hard to process. I’m sure I’ve skipped over some details—it’s been such an emotional roller coaster that some parts feel like a blur. But I’ve started to really question everything and wonder: Did I really do something so horrible that they felt the need to cut me off entirely?
I’m genuinely open to any advice on how to handle this or gain some kind of clarity or peace. I don’t know if there’s a way to rebuild those relationships, or if I should just keep moving forward without them.
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