My Parents Hid My College Acceptance To Force Me Into Marriage. At The... - Reddit Family Tales

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
My parents hid my college acceptance to force me into marriage.
At the rehearsal dinner, my aunt spoke up. Minutes later,
police were called. What occurred after you broke your parents' rules?
My parents had one rule, which they considered as the
twelfth Commandment, no dating until after high school graduation. They
would continually lecture me about how teenage romances were merely

(00:22):
diversions from school work, and how every lady who dated
in high school ended up ruining her life. They even
made me sign a contract on my fifteenth birthday stating
that I would not date until I was nineteen. My
father laminated it and posted it on the refrigerator like
a warning notice. I spent every school dance at home,
watching Netflix, while my pals texted me recordings of them
slow dancing with their boyfriends. When asked why I never

(00:45):
went to social events, I had to make up reasons
about being too busy with violin practice that didn't exist.
My mother would drive by the movie theater on Friday
nights to make sure I wasn't with anyone. Their anxiety
was so strong that when a boy from chemistry class
wanted to borrow my notes, my father quizzed me for
an hour about whether we were meeting covertly. Every male
contact in my phone had to be labeled with their

(01:06):
complete name and how I knew them, so my parents
could confirm they were simply classmates. Then, during junior year,
I met Luke at my volunteer position at the animal shelter,
which my parents pushed me to do since it would
look well on my college applications. He was a senior
at another school who came in every Saturday to help
with the dogs. My parents didn't know him, and we
worked in different portions of the shelter so we could

(01:28):
chat without anyone reporting back to them. After three months
of clandestine discussions while walking dogs and cleaning kennels, he
asked if I wanted to study together at the library.
That led to hidden coffee runs during my pretend tutoring sessions,
and then actual dates at places across town that my
parents would never visit. We kept everything disguised by using
my phone's messaging program, which looked like a calculator. I

(01:51):
became an adept at living a parallel life where I
was the perfect rule following daughter at home and a
regular adolescent when they assumed I was at debate practice
or studying with a friend. But then on Thursday night,
my appendix chose to literally rupture inside my body. The
pain began during supper, and within minutes I was curled
up on the lavatory floor, feeling as if someone had

(02:12):
stabbed me with a hot knife. I couldn't breathe sufficiently
to inform my parents that something was badly wrong with
my stomach. My mother took one look at me and
assumed I was exaggerating my period cramps, as she often
did when I was sick. My father agreed, saying I
only needed to take some ibuprofen and sleep it off.
When I started throwing up and couldn't even stand up straight,

(02:33):
they accused me of trying to avoid my calculus tests.
The next morning, they actually ordered me to bed and
told me not to be so dramatic about everyday teenage
girl issues. By midnight, the agony was so severe that
I was seeing spots and could barely stay awake, But
my parents had gone to bed and switched off their
phones like they always did. I crawled to my phone
and texted Luke that something was seriously wrong and that

(02:55):
I believed I would die, which sounds dramatic, but was
genuinely true at that moment. He didn't hesitate to tell
my parents he was coming to collect me, whether they
liked it or not. He was hurling rocks at my
window and helping me climb down the trellis in my pajamas,
all while I tried not to cry from the agony.
When I couldn't walk longer, he took me to his
car and drove at ninety miles per hour to the

(03:16):
emergency hospital while I sobbed in the passenger seat. The
doctors hurried me into surgery right away because my appendix
had ruptured and I was in septic shock, which would
have killed me if Luke had waited even an hour.
When I awoke following surgery, my parents stood next to
my hospital bed, looking absolutely devastated. Luke was still in
the waiting area, despite the fact that it was six

(03:36):
a m. And he had been awake all night. The
surgeon informed my parents that Luke had saved my life
by bringing me to the hospital when he did, and
that their son was a hero for realizing the gravity
of the situation. My mother began crying and hugging Luke,
while my father shook his hand and again apologized for
not believing me about the agony. My parents remained silent
on the trip home from the hospital three days later,

(03:57):
until my father finally cleared his throat and stated that
they needed to apologize for everything. My mother agreed that
they had been too rigid and that I had definitely
made the right decision in picking someone like Luke who
cared enough to risk getting into trouble to save my life.
They said I could officially date him and even invite
him over for dinner to thank him properly. I felt

(04:18):
so relieved I began to cry until my mother turned
around in her seat with a bright smile and whispered
the words that changed everything. We've decided you two are
so perfect for each other that you should get married.
We already put down the deposit on the venue. The
wedding is next month. My surgical incision began to hurt
harder as I grasped the car door handle and looked

(04:39):
at my mother's eager expression. She kept talking about roses
versus lilies, while my father nodded along, and I wondered
whether the opium was causing me to hallucinate. The entire conversation.
The rest of the drive home was a jumble of
wedding details shouted off by my mother as I held
my hand against my stomach and tried not to vomit
from the pain, meds or the shock. When we came home,

(05:00):
I rushed straight to the toilet and locked the door,
before pulling out my phone and texting Luke. With shaky hands,
I typed they want us to get married next month,
not joking, and sent it before sitting on the locked
toilet lid. His reaction was rapid, with eighteen question marks,
followed by are your parents having a mental breakdown? I
could hear my mother downstairs on the phone with someone

(05:21):
about catering menus. I pulled myself into my bedroom and
collapsed on the bed, where that dumb, laminated dating contract
hung as if it were a joke. The one I
signed at fifteen, promising not to date until I was nineteen,
was right there, mocking me while my parents arranged my
wedding four months before I graduated. My stomach hurt more
than the surgery sight as I stared at the ceiling

(05:42):
until Chloe peeked through my door. She muttered that Mom
had gone wild and was browsing for wedding clothes online,
which made me laugh and cry at the same time.
That night, my father pushed a three inch notebook across
the table, labeled with color coded sections for venue catering
and guest list. I opened it to discover two hundred
ten names games already entered in alphabetical order, along with

(06:02):
addresses and phone numbers. I pushed my soup bowl away
and told them forcefully that I was eighteen and couldn't
legally marry, but my mother simply smiled. She chirped that
parental approval made it legal in California, and they'd already
looked into all the criteria at the courtroom. Two days later,
Luke showed up for the thank you dinner my parents
had promised him, dressed in his sole button down shirt.

(06:23):
My parents grinned at him as if he were already
their son in law while he continued to send me
bewildered looks across the table. I mouthed play along while
making nervous eye contact as my mother served his favorite foods,
which she had discovered after stalking his social media. She
had baked chicken parmesan and chocolate cake. After supposedly scrolling
through three years of his Instagram posts. After supper, we

(06:45):
sat on the porch swing while my folks watched us
from the living room window as if we were a
zoo exhibit. Luke whispered that we'd just been dating for
four months and hadn't met my parents officially until now.
My surgical sight stung as I told how my parents
thought they were doing something great by going from one
extreme to the other. They'd gone from prohibiting any dating
to organizing our wedding in three days, as if that

(07:06):
was completely normal. The next morning, I found out that
my mother had already contacted my school concerning extraordinary circumstances
for early graduation. She had informed them that my medical
complications from the surgery required me to hurry my diploma
so that I could focus on wedded life. The guidance
counselor called me, instantly, perplexed by the request and wondering
if everything was fine at home. I had to pretend

(07:28):
the connection was terrible and hang up before she could
ask any further questions about why my mother thought I
was getting married. Lily arrived for our regular study session
that afternoon, but my mother intercepted her at the front
door with a stack of wedding invites. She handed Lily
a calligraphy pen and urged her to start addressing envelopes
while I watched in dread from the staircase. Lily's eyes
widened as she read Emma Mitchell and Luke Harrison request

(07:51):
the Honor of your Presence, which was printed in elegant
gold letters. She mouthed something at me from across the room,
while my mother explained that we needed to mail these
by Friday. That night, I attempted to have a sensible
chat with my parents about my desire to complete high
school normally and attend college. My father explained that married
students receive higher financial aid and Luke could help me

(08:11):
while I studied part time. My mother added that they
had already paid nine thousand dollars in non refundable deposits,
so they couldn't back out. She'd reserved the country club,
engaged a photographer, and placed a rush order for a
custom wedding gown in my size. The next morning, Chloe
knocked on my door, holding her phone and looking panicked.
She showed me screenshots from our mother's Facebook page, where

(08:32):
she had publicized the engagement to our entire extended family.
I was intrigued by how my parents moved from zero
to wedding preparation in three days. How did they investigate
all the legal requirements for parental consent so quickly. The
post featured photographs from Luke's Instagram that she had modified
to look like professional relationship portraits using a filter tool.

(08:53):
Comments poured in with astonished congrats, and my aunt from
Texas had already mentioned that she was planning trips. I
grabbed my phone and dialed doctor Patel's number while Chloe
eyed me with concern. The nurse who answered recognized my
name and inquired about my recuperation status. I described the
wedding circumstance and requested the doctor if he could write
something indicating that I required longer recovery time. She sat

(09:16):
silent for a time before saying that the doctor could
only become involved in family problems if there was actual abuse.
My parents strangely kind behavior in pressuring me to marry
did not count as anything doctors could prevent. I hung up,
feeling absolutely trapped, while Chloe simply shook her head. Three
days had gone since the announcement and the situation was

(09:36):
getting worse by the hour. Luke texted me that his
parents had just contacted him, screaming, since they had received
a formal invitation in the mail. The elegant card invited
them to dinner to talk about their children's future together.
His mother was a paralegal and she was already looking
into whether underage marriage was allowed in California. He stated
he was parked in his car outside my house but

(09:58):
was too terrified to enter. He did didn't want to
leave me alone, but he didn't know how to deal
with my parents any more. That night, Pastor Collins came
over for supper, and he appeared to be very uncomfortable.
Throughout my parents continued saying how they were blessed youthful
love and giving us the best start in life. He
suggested that couple seek counseling for at least six months
before getting married. My mother just chuckled and remarked true

(10:21):
love didn't need to wait when it was obvious we
were meant to be. While my parents debated whether to
use Roses or Lili's as centerpieces, Pastor Collins stared at
me and mouthed the words I'm sorry. He departed shortly
after dessert, claiming he had another appointment, but I could
tell he just wanted to leave. A week following my operation,
I returned to school and it was a total nightmare.

(10:43):
Everyone had read my mother's Facebook posts and assumed I
was getting married by choice. In the hallways, kids I
had never met before approached me to congratulate me. My
chemistry instructor approached me and said marriage was a tremendous responsibility,
but she was delighted for me. I attempted to explain
that it was all a misunderstanding, but nobody believed me.

(11:03):
The worst thing was that rumors started spreading about why
the wedding was taking place so quickly. By lunchtime, everyone
had concluded that I was pregnant, which would explain both
the emergency operation and the rushed wedding. Lily caught me
crying in the bathroom and brought me to the library,
where she had assembled our friend group. She'd started a
group chat called Save Emma, and everyone was pitching ideas

(11:24):
to stop the wedding. Someone proposed staging a pregnancy scare
for Luke to terrify my parents. Another acquaintance wanted to
contact child protective services and report the entire situation. I
told them none of it would work, since my parents
would see any involvement as envy or someone attempting to
spoil my happiness. If they suspected that individuals were attempting
to halt the wedding, they would most likely move it

(11:45):
forward even further. When I arrived home that afternoon, I
discovered my mother's old wedding planning notebook in the garage.
It was dated when she was seventeen and contained magazine
cutouts and handwritten notes about her ideal wedding. She had
prepared every detail, including the dress, flowers, and first dance song.
Then at the bottom of one page, she wrote canceled

(12:06):
because of baby, along with the date she discovered she
was pregnant with me. Everything finally made sense, even why
she was so eager about this wedding. She was living
out the youthful wedding fantasies she never had because of me.
That evening, over dinner, the venue planner called to discuss
the final menu options for the reception. My father handed
me the phone, saying I should choose anything I wanted

(12:27):
because it was my special day. I purposefully selected the
most expensive choice for each course, intending to price them
out of this madness. My mother just clapped her hands
and stated nothing was too good for her daughter's wedding.
The organizer informed my parents that the revised total would
be nearly double the initial estimate, but they didn't flinch. Meanwhile,
Luke met with his older brother, who was attending law school,

(12:49):
to discuss our alternatives. His brother stated that parents could
legally consent to a teen marriage, but I could seek
emancipation from my parents or wait until I was eighteen
to apply for an anoma, claiming coercion. The legalities were convoluted,
and we were just two youngsters looking to date like
regular teenagers. Later that week, Chloe came into my room

(13:09):
and closed the door behind her. Appearing serious, She brought
out her phone, revealing that she had been covertly recording
our parents chats for days. She showed me a video
of our mother talking to someone on the phone about
how I needed structure in my life. Mom said that
marriage would prevent me from making the same mistakes she
did as a teenager. Chloe had been documenting everything so

(13:30):
that I may have documentation if needed later. My parents
shocked me the next Saturday by unexpectedly driving me to
a bridal dress shop. The consultant had previously pulled clothes
based on what my mother had told her on the phone.
They forced me try on dress after dress while my
mother grieved over her baby's wedding. I stood on the
platform in a three thousand, two hundred dollars outfit, feeling

(13:51):
as if I were in a nightmare. Other customers continued
to stare at me and whisper to each other. One
woman questioned if we belonged to one of those religious
groups who marry off their daughters at a young age.
The consultant gave me sympathetic looks, but said nothing. My
mother ultimately chose a dress with far too many sparkles
and a train that stretched endlessly while I stood there
feeling numb. We left the store with the dress in

(14:14):
a large pink bag and drove home in silence, except
for my mother discussing flower arrangements and whether we should
serve chicken or fish at the reception. The next morning,
at school, I was headed to my locker when Lily's
mother emerged in the corridor and gently patted my shoulder.
She worked as a social worker at the county office,
and her sweet voice made you want to tell her everything.
She asked if we could speak quietly, and brought me

(14:36):
to an empty class room, where she closed the door
and sat at one of the desks. I described how
my parents thought they were assisting me by organizing this
wonderful wedding for the boy who saved my life, and
how they truly believed it was the best thing for
my future. She listened without interrupting, then took out a
business card from her purse. Coercive control is still control, honey,
she remarked quietly as she left me alone in the classroom.

(14:59):
After school, ul Luke picked me up in his beat
up Honda and drove us to the park, where no
one would see us unless our parents were watching. He
turned off the engine and stared at the steering wheel
for a long time before recommending that we simply run away.
I reminded him that we had no money and nowhere
to go, and I was still dizzy from the surgery
when I stood up too quickly. We sat there, holding
hands and watching children play on the swings, both aware

(15:22):
that we were absolutely trapped. Two days later, while my
parents were at work, I went into my father's study
to seek for stamps and discovered a stack of open
envelopes buried beneath his tax documents. Three college acceptance letters
with scholarship offers that needed to be returned by next
month were sitting there, the edges torn open. Northwestern offered
me nearly a full ride to their journalism department, and

(15:43):
two state institutions had granted me merit scholarships that would
cover the majority of my tuition. When my mother arrived home,
I showed her the letters and she merely shrugged, saying
they were to keep me from becoming distracted during the
wedding planning. That Sunday, we sat in our customary pew
at church while Pastor Collins stood at the podium and
began discussing how God gave young people free will for

(16:05):
a reason. He kept staring at my parents as he
explained how forcing youngsters to make adult decisions before they
were ready contradicted everything the Bible taught about patience and wisdom.
My mother's cheeks became scarlet, and my father's jaw became
so rigid that I felt he may fracture a tooth.
The entire crowd kept gazing at us and murmuring to
one another as pastor continued to lecture about allowing teenagers

(16:27):
to mature at their own speed. After the service, my
mother confronted pastor in the parking lot and informed him
that if he ever attacked our family again during a sermon,
we would find another church. The next day, a photographer
arrived at our house with a bunch of equipment for
engagement photos that my parents had booked without informing me.
My mother handed me a yellow sun dress she had
purchased and instructed me to put it on and grin

(16:49):
like I meant it. Luke came looking terrible in the
button down shirt his mother had left for him to wear.
We stood in the back yard as the photographer positioned
us beneath the oak tree and instructed us to appear cheer, fearful,
and in love. Chloe kept sneaking into the background, forming
bunny ears and sticking her tongue out, forcing the photographer
to retake each shot. She pretended to pick her nose

(17:09):
in one photo and made vulgar hand gestures in another,
before my father took her inside and punished her for
a week. We had barely finished taking shots when a
taxi arrived and my aunt Julia from Texas, stepped out
with two luggage and marched straight up to the front door.
She took one look at me in the sun dress
Luke alongside me and wanted to know why her eighteen
year old niece was dressed like a bride. My mother

(17:30):
tried to explain that the wedding was a celebration of
Luke saving my life, but Julia interrupted her and stated
she was living out her failed dreams via me. They
began screaming at each other in the living room, and
Julia accused my mother of being envious that she had
never had her dream wedding when she was younger. My
mother's expression changed from astonished to hurt, who outraged, and
approximately three seconds before telling Julia to leave her house.

(17:53):
The next morning, Luke's parents arrived for the meeting that
my parents had requested, accompanied by their oldest son, a
Sacramento lawyer. His mother, Ruth, placed a folder of legal
documents on our coffee table and began discussing all of
the data about teenage weddings and divorce rates. My father
responded by pulling up Luke's Instagram on his phone, and
showing them images of us at the animal shelter, alleging

(18:14):
their son had been secretly pursuing me for months. The
tension in the room became so intense that I couldn't breathe,
so I fled upstairs to the bathroom, where I discovered
Chloe already cowering in the bathtub with her headphones on.
We sat together on the hard tile floor while the
voices downstairs became increasingly louder. Chloe took out her phone
and whispered that she had been recording everything our parents

(18:34):
said and saving it to cloud storage in case I
needed it later for court or something. When Ruth indicated
that my parents were psychologically assaulting me by forcing this wedding,
the arguing downstairs escalated into full on yelling. My mother
completely lost it and began screaming that they had produced
a predator who targeted young girls for charity work. She
threw them out the front door, screaming that Luke had
misled and corrupted me. Minutes later, my phone buzzed with

(18:57):
a text from Luke, who was sitting in his parents car,
claiming his mother was calling CPS and that everything had
gone nuts. The next day, at school, Lily recruited five
other friends and cornered me in the chemistry lab during
lunch time with a complete presentation they had prepared. They
had published stories regarding forced marriage and statistics on teen divorce,
as well as leaflets from legal help organizations. They encircled

(19:20):
me at the lab table, each saying why this wedding
was a bad idea and how they might help me
get out of it. I started crying so hard that
I couldn't see the papers they were showing me. I
told them I had no idea how to stop this
without killing my entire family and making my parents hate
me forever. Lily's mother picked me up from school that
afternoon and drove me home in silence, leaving me staring

(19:41):
out the window feeling as if my entire world was
falling apart. When I arrived home, my mother was in
the kitchen, surrounded by wedding magazines and fabric samples, humming
to herself and writing notes in a pink notebook decorated
with heartstickers. She smiled at me and began telling me
about how she had selected the ideal ivory color for
my dress and how the florist had these lovely roses

(20:02):
that would go well with it. I mumbled something about
needing to use the restroom and headed upstairs, where I
discovered her bag open on the dresser. Something prompted me
to look inside, and I saw the prescription bottle for
her anxiety medicine nestled beneath a stack of wedding preparation books.
The bottle was totally full, despite the fact that the
label indicated it had been replenished three weeks previously. My

(20:23):
hands began to shake as I realized she had not
been taking her pills at all, and suddenly her frantic
excitement over this wedding made terrible sense. I heard a
car pull up outside and looked out the window to
see a woman in a gray suit exit with a
clipboard and an official looking credential. My stomach fell as
she stepped up to our front door and rang the doorbell,
leaving me transfixed at the top of the stairs listening

(20:44):
to my mother answer it in her fake pleasant voice.
The woman presented herself as a representative from Child Protective
Services and stated that they had received a complaint of
concerns about a juvenile in the family. My father emerged
from his office, and both my parents began talking at
once about how this must be a terrible misunderstanding. They
invited the investigator into the living room, and my mother

(21:05):
quickly pulled out her phone to show texts she said
I had sent about being thrilled for the wedding. She
showed the woman newspaper articles about Luke saving my life,
as well as the surgeon's thank you message praising my
lover as a hero. The investigator nodded and took notes
as my parents built an image of appreciative parents attempting
to support their daughter's connection with a lad who had
saved her life. Everything appeared to be going their way

(21:27):
until Chloe walked downstairs and paused at the doorway. She
stared at the investigator, then at our parents, and back
at the investigator before saying the two words that altered everything.
The investigator's head jumped up, and she requested Chloe to
repeat what she had said. My parents attempted to intervene,
but the woman raised her hand and requested to meet
with me quietly. My mother's face became white when the

(21:50):
investigator followed me up to my room and closed the
door behind us. She sat on my desk chair and
I perched on the edge of my bed, my surgical wound,
hurting from stress. She questioned me directly about the wedding
and whether I wanted to marry. I continued looking at
my hands, torn between stating the truth and protecting my parents,
who I knew loved me even when they were mad.

(22:10):
I told her they were simply overwhelmed with appreciation for
Luke and may have gotten carried away with wanting to
thank him. She documented everything and requested to see my
surgery scar, which was still red and inflamed. She photographed
it and stated that she would need to follow up
in a week to ensure that I was healing properly
and to monitor the problem. After she left, my parents
were unusually silent at supper, passing dishes without making eye contact.

(22:33):
The next morning, they both went early for work, and
Pastor Collins arrived about ten, finding me on the porch
swing trying to read, but mostly staring at nothing. He
sat down next to me and stated that he had
been counseling couples for twenty years but had never seen
anything like this before. He stated he may refuse to
perform the wedding on religious grounds because I was still
a juvenile and hadn't gone through pre marital counseling. But

(22:55):
he warned that if my parents were desperate enough, they
could find someone else who wouldn't ask too many questions,
and even drive to Vegas days later. With only ten
days till the scheduled wedding, I was looking for my
calculus textbook in my mother's car when I came across
a folder labeled Emma's Future. Inside were emails she'd been
sending to all of my professors, explaining that I'd be

(23:15):
switching to online education after my wedding so I could
focus on becoming a wife. My hands felt numb as
I read her promises about finishing my final year from
home while adjusting to married life. The next morning, my
principal summoned me to his office and handed me the
emails my mother had sent. He leaned forward with genuine
worry in his eyes, saying he could intercede if I
asked him to, and that the school had resources to

(23:38):
assist students in difficult family situations. I opened my mouth
to say yes, ask for assistance, or declare everything was nuts,
but nothing came out. I just sat there transfixed, unable
to reject the parents who had reared me, even if
they were ruining my future. Aunt Julia arrived that evening
when my mother was at her reading group, and confronted
my father in the garage where he was pretending to

(24:00):
organize his equipment. I could hear them through the door
as she informed him she knew about Mom's bipolar diagnosis
from when they were younger, which my parents had kept
secret from us all our lives. She said, if they
didn't postpone the wedding right away, she'd tell me and
Chloe about Mom's history of manic episodes and hospitalizations. My
father's voice trembled as he begged her not to say anything,

(24:21):
claiming Diane was delicate right now and that this wedding
was the only thing keeping her stable and joyful. Two
days later, Chloe discovered me in the bathroom at two
a m. Fully dressed and sitting under the chilly shower,
spray tears streaming down my cheeks. She didn't say anything
at first, just slipped up beside me in her pajamas
and grabbed my hand. I finally stated that I'd been

(24:42):
suffering panic attacks since the surgery, waking up, gasping for
air and not knowing whether it was trauma from nearly
dying or dread about this wedding that was truly happening.
We sat there in the chilly water till our fingers
became purple and our teeth chattered, both of us unsure
what to say. Meanwhile, Luke had begun missing his morning
horses to sit in the public library, surrounded by law

(25:02):
texts on emancipation and minor rights. The librarian, an elderly
woman with sympathetic eyes, took notice of his stack of
legal literature and gently sat down next to him. She
stated that her daughter had gone through a similar experience
with controlling parents, and gave him a business card for
a family law attorney who worked pro bono for teens
in crisis situations. That night, while serving pasta, my mother

(25:25):
slammed a Manila folder on the table in front of me.
Inside were my college acceptance letters, which I had concealed
in my closet, letters from colleges to which I had
discreetly applied using the address of the school counselor. She
waved them in my face, yelling that I had always
planned to forsake them. That I was selfish and ungrateful
for everything they had done for me. My father supported her,

(25:46):
stating that college could wait until after I was married
and that a good woman prioritized her family over her work.
The area where they had removed my appendix began throbbing
and burning, as if it were about to break open
due to the stress. I dashed over to Lily's place
after dinner, and her mother took one glance at my wrists,
where my mother had seized me during her scream, and
instantly pulled out her camera. She documented every bruise and

(26:09):
red mark, while emphasizing that she was a mandated reporter
and that physical control paired with forced marriage constituted abuse,
regardless of my parents stated intentions. She filed the report
that night as I sat in their kitchen drinking tea
with trembling hands, knowing that in eight days my parents
wanted me to go down wedding aisle in a white
dress and swear to follow a boy I'd only kissed

(26:29):
three times. The next morning, Luke picked me up two
blocks from my house while my parents assumed I was
at a follow up doctor's visit. We traveled to a
small downtown law office, where Karen Walsh greeted us with
coffee and a stack of papers that made my stomach drop.
She described my three alternatives while I sat there feeling
like I was about to vomit again. Emancipation would take

(26:50):
months and would require proof that I could support myself financially,
which was impossible given that I couldn't even work yet
due to my surgery. Refusing to attend the real ceremony
would disgrace my parents in front of everyone they had invited,
but it would not deter them from trying again. Running
away until I was eighteen meant losing my health insurance
just when I needed it most for post surgery care
and meds. I left that meeting feeling even more constrained

(27:12):
than before, but Luke grabbed my hand and swore we'd
sort it out together. Days later, the wedding gown came
for final changes at the store my mother had chosen.
The seamstress was pinning the hem when I abruptly jumped
up and said that I was canceling the wedding entirely.
My mother's face turned white before she gasped for oxygen
and collapsed straight on the store floor. The staff contacted

(27:34):
nine one one while I crouched alongside her, gripping my
hand so hard it hurt, and gasping, don't leave me repeatedly.
I wrote in the ambulance with her holding her hand
as the paramedics administered oxygen and checked her vitals. At
the hospital, they stabilized her and brought her to a
private room, where I sat in the corner. I overheard
the doctor speak to my father in the corridor about
her bipolar medication and how she hadn't been taking it correctly.

(27:57):
They considered placing her on an involuntary mental if she
continued to refuse treatment, but my father asked them to wait.
He informed them that arranging the wedding was therapeutic for her,
which made me want to scream. Luke came to see
me in the hospital cafeteria while my mother was sedated upstairs.
We sat at a corner table, drinking horrible coffee and
debating if we should just break up publicly to end everything,

(28:19):
but we both knew it would most likely push my
mother over the brink, and neither of us wanted that
on our conscience. He softly stated that we were stuck
by their mental sickness, and I couldn't disagree with him
about it. The next day, Chloe came to my room
and showed me her phone, which included thousands of comments
on a Reddit topic. She'd been tweeting about our issue
anonymously for days, and it had gone fully viral, with

(28:40):
people offering help and sharing their own stories. She showed
me messages from journalists asking to interview us, but I
told her not to respond to any of them. The
next morning, my mother returned home from the hospital, determined
as ever to plan the wedding. She began calling all
of the vendors, insisting that they moved things forward by
two days since she did not want to risk anything
else ELL's happening. When I tried to resist, she took

(29:03):
my phone and laptop and locked me inside my room.
She said it was for my own good until the ceremony,
and I'd thank her some day for keeping me safe
from myself. Chloe was able to slide my phone back
through the heating vent between our rooms. That night, I
quickly texted Luke, Lily, and the social worker at the
hospital who had given me her card. Lily's mother instructed
me through Lily to call nine one one if I

(29:26):
was being kept against my will, but I couldn't do
so with my already unstable mother. The next morning, Pastor
Collins arrived for what my mother called necessary pre marital counseling.
He discovered me confined in my room and ordered that
my mother get me out immediately or he would contact
the authorities himself. She eventually unlocked the door, but then
sat right next to me for the whole session, interrupting

(29:47):
me whenever I tried to say anything. The pastor continued
to write notes while observing my mother's conduct, and I
could tell he was meticulously documenting everything. Four days before
the wedding, my aunt returned, but this time with back up.
My mother's a strange sister, Helen, was there, as was
my grandmother, whom I hadn't seen in five years. The
living room became a battlefield as decades of ancient fights

(30:09):
erupted all at once. Helen abruptly disclosed that my mother
had been hospitalized for postpartum psychosis after I was born,
which no one had ever told me. My mother began
yelling that Helen was lying, while my father attempted to
calm everyone down, and my grandmother simply sat there crying.
During the hubbub, Chloe grabbed my arm and pushed me
towards the rear entrance. We dashed to Lily's house, where

(30:31):
her mother was already waiting with Karen, the attorney from earlier.
Karen had emergency papers for a temporary restraining order scattered
across their kitchen table. My hands shook so terribly that
I could scarcely hold the pen as I signed my name,
knowing that this would end my relationship with my parents forever.
Lily's mother arranged blankets on their couch, but I couldn't
close my eyes without recalling my mother's contorted expression from earlier.

(30:55):
Around midnight, I gave up on sleeping and sat by
the window, watching the street outside while my phone buzzed
on the coffee table. My mother's missed calls continued to
soar above thirty, then forty, with each message becoming more
furious and threatening, until I eventually flipped the phone face down.
At three a m. A familiar automobile crept down the street,
moving so slowly that the headlights hardly moved against the walls.

(31:18):
My father's sedan drove past Lily's house once twice and
three times before stopping two houses down with the motor running.
I watched him sit there for twenty minutes, staring at
Lily's front door, when my phone lit up with a
text that chilled my hands. My father sent me a
message saying my mother was talking about injuring herself and
I needed to come home right away. I was still

(31:38):
staring at those lines when the automobile made its fourth
pass and came to a stop directly in front of
the home. Blue and red lights flashed over the room
as two police cars approached my father's s'dan At three
thirty in the morning, the doorbell rang and Lily's mother
went downstairs in her bathrobe, leaving me pressed against the
wall straining to hear what was going on. The officers
explained that my parents had reported me a runaway and

(32:00):
they needed to make sure I was secure. Lily's mother
tried to show them the restraining order paperwork Karen had made,
but one of the officers shook his head and claimed
it hadn't been filed with the court yet, therefore it
was invalid. My parents stood behind the police, looking completely
calm and anxious, like any worried parent. Would. My mother
had even changed into regular clothes and adjusted her cosmetics,

(32:22):
making her appear entirely normal. After hours of yelling, the
officer said that I could either come home freely, or
they would have to conduct a further investigation, which could
include charging my parents with false imprisonment if I claimed
they were holding me against my will. Lily's mother claimed
that I was seventeen and should have some say in
where I stayed, but the cops insisted that without filed papers,
I remained a child in my parent's custody. My father

(32:45):
went forward and assured me that they only wanted me
to return home safely and that everything was okay. My
mother's tear filled nod suggested that they were the victims
of a rebellious teenager. I realized that fighting would exacerbate
the situation and could land Lili's fan in trouble, so
I grabbed my belongings and accompanied my parents to the car.
As Lily observed from her bedroom window, the journey home

(33:07):
was entirely peaceful, save from my mother humming wedding songs
under her breath, as if nothing had happened. When we
arrived into our driveway, I realized why she was so
calm our. Entire backyard had been converted into a wedding site,
with white chairs lined up in neat rows facing an
archway draped in fake flowers. Catering tables surrounded the side
of the house, while strings of lights formed a canopy

(33:30):
over the dance floor. My mother guided me through the arrangement,
describing where the photographer would stand and how the guests
would enter via the side gate. She pointed out the
specific chair decorations for family members and the location for
the cake table, as if we were organizing a regular
party rather than a forced wedding between teenagers. My father
drew me into the kitchen while she continued to change

(33:51):
floral arrangements, and his hands shook as he held my shoulders.
He asked me to just go through with the ceremony
to keep my mother stable, stating that she had been
pairing constantly for three days without sleep and that he
was afraid of what she would do if we canceled now.
He gave me receipts for everything she'd already paid for,
including the catering deposit and DJA, and told me we'd

(34:11):
lose thousands of dollars if we pulled out. The next morning,
Luke arrived with his parents and older brother, who had
driven down from law school. They all sat in our
living room with my mother serving coffee and cookies as
if this were a usual family gathering. Luke's brother pulled
out legal documents and proposed a compromise in which we
would hold a commitment ceremony that resembled a wedding but
had no legal ramifications. He said that it would be

(34:34):
similar to a promise ring ceremony, allowing my mother to
have her celebration while keeping both of us from actually
getting married. My mother's face went through ten different looks
before she agreed, but she asked we not tell any
of the guests it wasn't real. She had us all
swear to act like it was a real wedding so
she wouldn't feel ashamed in front of her relatives and friends.
Karen called that afternoon to tell me she'd filed for

(34:54):
an emergency custody hearing, claiming I needed a guardian appointed
by the court owing to my parents' mental health issues.
The hearing was scheduled for Monday, the day following my
mother's planned ceremony for Sunday, Karen claimed that if I
could only make it through the weekend, the court would
probably intervene and take me from the house. Two days
felt like the longest span in the world, but it

(35:15):
was also the last hope I had. Friday night was
the rehearsal dinner at a restaurant that my mother had
entirely hired out. Extended relatives had driven in from three
different states, and everyone sat around tables adorned with white
roses and baby breath. My aunt, who had always been
wary of my mother's conduct, rose up to make a toast,
and I could feel my mother tense up Immediately. Instead

(35:35):
of wishing us well, my aunt informed all forty guests
that this was a bogus wedding between miners organized by
a mentally ill mother who required psychiatric care. The room
erupted into commotion, with half of the family shrieking at
my aunt and the other half agreeing with her. My
mother rose up and screamed that everyone was attempting to
ruin her wonderful moment, before grabbing a wine glass and

(35:56):
throwing it at the wall. She kept throwing plates and
glasses while Sawtubb, claiming that no one knew how much
she loved me and wanted me to be happy. My
father and two uncles had to physically restrain her and
carry her outside to the car, while she yelled threats
at everyone who had betrayed her. Back at home, my
father eventually broke down and acknowledged that he had been
tolerating my mother's illness for years because he was afraid

(36:17):
of her suicide attempts. He took out a note pad
from his desk drawer and gave me pages of documentation
on her manic episodes, dating back to when I was
five years old. Each entry detailed how her breakdowns were
caused by routine milestones, such as starting kindergarten, getting my
first period, or turning sixteen. He'd been watching the pattern
but had never gotten her help, since she threatened suicide

(36:38):
every time he proposed therapy or medicine. The journal contained
dates and descriptions of her threatening to drive off bridges
or take drugs if he did not agree to anything
she wanted. Later that night, Chloe entered my room brandishing
scissors from the kitchen drawer. She sat on my bed
and proposed that we cut all of my hair off
to make me look too terrible for wedding photos, so
Mom would cancel. Both began laughing despite our tears, knowing

(37:02):
that nothing would stop her. At this point. She'd probably
simply get me a wig and pretend everything was all right.
Chloe grabbed my hand and stated she was worried about
what would happen to her if I went, because Mom
would need a new project to worry about. Early on
Sunday morning, before anybody else was up, the pastor knocked
on my bedroom door. He sat in my desk chair
and informed me that he had spoken with Karen about

(37:23):
the custody hearing and would testify about all he had witnessed.
He also stated that if I gave him any signal
during the ceremony, such as dropping my bouquet or stating
the wrong name, he would object and interrupt the proceedings.
He'd already planned a speech about how the marriage could
not be blessed by God because it was coerced and
included children. I awoke two hours later to find my
mother sitting on my bed holding the laminated dating contract

(37:46):
she had made me sign when I was fourteen. She
had scissors in her hand and was cutting it into
little bits that dropped like confetti on my comforter. She
gave me a twisted smile and said she was wrong
to restrict me with rules and contracts, because this wedding
shown she trusted me to make adult decisions. Now. The
doorbell rang, and my mother sprang up to answer it,
while I sat there staring at the fragments of my

(38:07):
old contract scattered about my bed. Lily entered my room
with a bride'smaid dress in one hand and a backpack
in the other, which she deposited behind my dresser with
a look that told it all. My cousins, who were
meant to be the other bride'smaids, stood in my doorway,
muttering about whether they should even be present for this
bizarre wedding. Chloe had her phone out, texting everyone about
how to prevent this situation from occurring, while pretending to

(38:30):
take selfies in her outfit. My mother returned, lugging a
massive white bridle gown that resembled something out of a
fairy tale, and instructed me to begin preparing because guests
would come in two hours. I stood up to remove
the dress and noticed something wet on my stomach, where
my surgery scar was supposed to heal. When I lifted
my shirt, blood was leaking through the bandage and the
wound had split open about an inch Due to stress,

(38:52):
I showed my mother, hoping that would finally convince her
to cancel everything, but she just grabbed some cosmetics and
fashion tape from the bathroom. She put the tape over
the bloodied bandage and applied concealer, assuring me that nothing
could ruin this wonderful day. My phone flashed with a
text from Luke informing me that his parents had phoned
reporters and that press vans were already outside the venue.
But my mother had no idea. Chloe had uploaded the

(39:15):
entire tale on Reddit last night, and now legitimate news
teams wanted to cover the forced teen wedding. The door
bell rang again and doctor Patel walked in, still dressed
in hospital scrubs and looking quite disturbed. She had heard
from other doctors at the hospital about what was going
on and came to check on me because I was
only a week out from major surgery. She took one
glance at the blood pouring through my clothing and brought

(39:38):
me to the bathroom to assess the reopened wound. Her
hands shook as she treated the wound, and she informed
me that I was medically unsuited for any stress at
this time. She threatened to call an ambulance if my
parents forced me to go through with this event. My
mother overheard her conversation and stormed into the bathroom, yelling
that everyone was attempting to ruin my happiness. She grabbed
my arm and began leading me toward the backyard, where

(40:00):
they had set up all of the chairs and decorations.
My father finally stepped in and grabbed my mother's shoulders,
preventing her from pulling me outside. She began punching him
and yelling that everyone was attempting to destroy our family.
While guests looked through the windows, someone must have phoned
nine one one, since three police cars arrived and officers
ran into our property. Guests scattered in all directions as

(40:20):
the cops separated my parents and attempted to figure out
what was going on. The paramedics who arrived with them
took one glance at my mother and began questioning her
about her mental state. She begged me to assure them
she was all right, but I stood there, too tired
to say anything else. They took her in an ambulance
for a psychiatric examination. While she wailed about wanting to
give me everything she never had. I saw the bridal

(40:43):
arch standing empty in our garden, with flowers dying in
the midday light. My mother couldn't distinguish the difference between
her own youthful fantasies and what I truly want for
my life. Later that evening, my aunt arrived and began
sending visitors home while contacting vendors to cancel everything. She
took out her phone and showed me movies she had
been recording of my mother's conduct for months. She stated

(41:04):
that my mother had episodes like this before I was born,
and the family had been coping with her issues for years. Karen,
a social worker, arrived with emergency custody documents which designated
my aunt as my temporary guardian. My hands shook as
I signed the paperwork, and my surgery site throbbed with
each movement. Luke grasped my other hand as I realized
I couldn't legally live in my own home anymore. My

(41:27):
father sat at the kitchen table, ultimately breaking down in
tears about how he had re mortgaged our property to
pay for this wedding. He said, my mother had been
spending money they didn't have on insane ideas for years,
and we were now absolutely broke. He admitted that he
needed help as well, because he had been encouraging her
illness rather than providing her with proper care. The next
three days were a haze of packing boxes and signing paperwork,

(41:50):
while my aunt Karen handled all of the legal paperwork
with CPS. She drove me to my first therapy visit
in the little downtown office building, where the therapist hung
images of mountains on everyone. I sat on her brown
leather couch for the first twenty minutes, unable to form
words because everything seemed too vast to express. The therapist
simply handed me tissues and waited as I stared at

(42:10):
my hands, trying to understand how love could develop into
something so twisted. Chloe arrived at Karen's rental property that
afternoon with two suit cases and a plush elephant from
when she was five. We moved the twin beds together
in the guest room and she crawled in next to
me the first night, just like we used to do
during thunder storms. She informed me she had been seeing
a counselor at school for six months because she sensed

(42:32):
something was wrong with our family, but didn't know what
to do. Days later, Luke picked me up for our
first real date where we didn't have to lie or
sneak around. We went to a pizza establishment near his
school and then watched an action movie, but half way
through I realized we had no idea what to talk
about unless a catastrophe occurred. We sat in his car
later and decided to start anew and get to know

(42:52):
one other like normal people. The custody hearing took place
two weeks later in a massive court room that smelled
like old carpet and coffee. Past Collins testified about my
parents troubling behavior at church and how they had separated
our family from regular activities. Doctor Patel reviewed my medical
records and highlighted how near I had been to death
due to the ruptured appendix. Lily's mother recounted finding me

(43:14):
crying at their house several times over my parents' rules.
Everyone in the court room fell silent as they saw
blood oozing through my bridal dress, which my mother had
only concealed with cosmetics and tape what was going in
her mind to make her believe that was okay. Karen
presented all of the evidence, including covert recordings of our
mother's meltdowns that Chloe had made on her phone. My

(43:35):
mother sat at the opposite table, appearing smaller than I'd
ever seen her, in a gray clothing. I didn't know
when it was her turn. She stood up and revealed
that she had bipolar disorder and had stopped taking her
medication two years before. She stated, arranging my wedding seemed
like the most love she'd ever showed me, even though
she now realizes how wrong she was. The judge listened
to everything and concluded that while mental illness may explain behavior,

(43:58):
it does not excuse in danger children. He signed the
paperwork designating Karen as our legal guardian right there in
the courtroom. Two weeks later, I returned to school and
everyone stared at me in the hallways as if I
were a celebrity or a victim. Some kids wanted to
take selfies with me after seeing the Reddit thread that
went viral. Others murmured behind their hands or gave me

(44:19):
pitying looks, making me want a hide in the restroom.
I concentrated on catching up on all of the assignments
I had missed, while my teachers repeatedly asked if I
needed extensions or counseling. My AP classes were a catastrophe,
and I had three weeks to improve my grades before
the college application deadline. Karen brought me back to my
old residence on a Saturday morning to grab my clothes

(44:40):
and school supplies, because we knew my parents would be
at therapy appointments. The wedding arch was still in the garden,
covered in dead flowers and bird droppings. Except for the
three holes my mother had punched in the wall next
to my bed, my room appeared to be unchanged. We
packed everything into boxes, and I tried not to look
at the family portraits that remained in the hallway. Me

(45:00):
up the next day and declared that we were having
a typical teenage girl day with no mention of parents,
court or trauma. We had our nails done in bright
pink and ate far too much ice cream at the
mall food court. At the movie theater, we ran into
some students who kept staring but didn't say anything about
the tale everyone had read online. For three hours, I
remembered what it was like to be seventeen and worry

(45:21):
about simple things like whether my nail polish matched my dress.
A month later, my father's therapist phoned Karen and asked
if I might attend a family session with him. I
sat in that beige office as my father grieved, saying
he had failed me by prioritizing my mother's stability over
my own. He stated that he was afraid of her
getting worse if he challenged her, but it made him
accountable for what transpired. I couldn't forgive him yet, but

(45:44):
I told him I was glad he was finally accepting responsibility.
That same week, the admissions office at Berkeley sent me
an email requesting a statement on my familial circumstances. My
hands shook as I read it, fearing they would reject
me due to the disarray. Instead, they offered me a
grant specifically for students surviving familial trauma and stated that
they had support resources available if I needed them. Karen

(46:07):
assisted me in writing a response that explained everything, and
I cried with relief that my future wasn't utterly lost.
About a month later, Luke's parents contacted Karen's house and
asked if I may join them for dinner that weekend.
I sat in their living room, feeling strange about being
there after what had happened with CPS. His mother brought
out a large plate of handmade lasagna, and his father

(46:28):
kept refilling my water glass every time I took a sip.
They both immediately began talking about how sorry they were
for phoning CPS without first consulting with me. His mother
grabbed my hand and stated their house was always open
if I needed a secure place to go. The following week,
Chloe and I attended to a support group Karen had
located for children whose parents had mental health issues. We

(46:50):
sat in metal folding chairs in a church basement, listening
to other teenagers discussed their mother's bipolar episodes and father's schizophrenia.
One girl described her mother organized her sixteenth birthday party
twelve times, and it made me cry because it sounded
exactly like Diane. Chloe sat there with her arms crossed
till this boy mentioned being angry at his elder sister
for not sheltering him from their father's mood swings. She

(47:13):
finally looked at me and said she was upset because
I didn't realize how bad our family was until it
was too late. After the meeting, we sat in my
car for two hours while she told me about all
the time she had hidden in her closet while our
parents argued. Days later, a hefty letter arrived at Karen's
residence bearing the return address of my parents' lawyer. Inside
was a ten page letter from Diane, written in her

(47:34):
tiny handwriting that alternated between apologizing and explaining why she
had done everything. She said that she and Mark were
planned a butterfly themed vow renewal ceremony next spring, with
genuine monarch butterflies to be released. That same afternoon, the
lawyer called to inform me that my parents had filed
for bankruptcy due to all of the wedding debt and
Diane's credit card debts. He said, my education fund was depleted,

(47:57):
but Karen had already launched a gofund me campaign, which
raised twelve thousand dollars in three days from individuals who
had been following my story online. Complete strangers were sending
twenty dollars and fifty dollars donations, along with remarks about
how brave I was for revealing everything. Graduation day arrived
faster than I had anticipated, and I was adjusting my
cap in the bathroom mirror when Lily texted that my

(48:19):
parents were in the theater. Security guards were already approaching them,
but I walked over and informed them everything was fine,
since I realized I could manage being in the same
room with them now. Diane cried throughout the ceremony as
Mark held her hand and kept bringing her tissues from
his jacket pocket. After they called my name and I
walked across the stage, Diane rose up and clapped so
loudly that everyone turned to look at her. When the

(48:41):
ceremony was over, she proceeded toward me, with Mark directly
behind her, seeming apprehensive and protective at the same time.
She looked different, with shorter hair and matching clothes as
opposed to the random, colorful colors she typically wore. She
handed me a card with a five hundred dollar check
inside and claimed she was feeling better after taking her
new prescription correctly. I accepted the card and nodded, but

(49:03):
I made no promises to contact or visit because I
wasn't ready yet. The next day, Pastor called Karen's residence
and asked if he could do a special blessing ceremony
for my future, as the wedding blessing had never occurred.
We met at the church on a Tuesday evening with Karen, Chloe, Lily,
and even Luke's entire family in the front pews. He
spoke of travels, healing, and new beginnings while sprinkling holy

(49:27):
water on my head, and it seemed like my genuine wedding.
Luke and I sat in his car later discussing what
would happen when I departed for Berkeley in two months.
We both knew that the pain of everything had brought
us together, but we wanted to figure out if there
was anything genuine beneath it all. We decided to attempt
long distance without making any huge vows about forever, since

(49:47):
we'd had enough of being compelled to commit. I had
to testify in the state capitol regarding adolescent marriage laws
and parental consent requirements. A week before leaving for college.
I sat at this big table, a microphone in front
of me, telling a room full of politicians about the
wedding dress, the location, and the surgery. Three different representatives
stated that they would introduce measures requiring therapy before parents

(50:08):
could consent to their minor children's marriage. Moving day eventually arrived,
and Karen put my belongings into her suv as Chloe
moaned about having to drive four hours to Berkeley and back.
We drove by my former house, which had a for
sale sign in the front yard with a sold sticker
on it. Diane was standing in the living room window
watching the street, and our gazes connected for a split

(50:29):
second before Karen turned the corner. The rest of the
drive was silent, with the exception of Chloe playing phone
games and Karen checking on me through the mirror every
few minutes. When we arrived at my dorm, Berkeley's campus
appeared vast, and I watched other families unload cars full
of matching betting sets and brand new mini fridges. My
belongings fit in three cartons and one suitcase, but Karen

(50:50):
helped me bring everything up to the third story, where
my roommate was already unpacking. She looked up from arranging
photos on her desk and her eyes widened. Wait, are
you the girl from that red post about the forced wedding?
I agreed and braced myself for criticism, but she sat
on her bed and told me about her own mother,
who had tried to force her to marry her cousin
back in Pakistan. We sat up until three a m.

(51:12):
Swapping stories about strange families, and I discovered I wasn't
the only one with insane parents. Weeks later, I attended
my first genuine college party, where no one knew anything
about my past other than what I chose to tell them.
When a guy asked about my family while we were
playing beer pong, I just shrugged and stated it was complicated,
without having to describe the entire situation. The independence of

(51:33):
not owing anyone my trauma felt better than I could
have imagined. I plunged myself into classes and gained friends
who recognized me as Emma, not the girl whose parents
sought to compel her to marry Chloe contacted me months
into freshman year, crying so hard that I couldn't understand
what she was saying. Mom got pregnant again at forty three,
having gone off her pills during another manic episode in

(51:53):
which she believed medication was harming her body. I felt
the usual need to drop everything and go home to help,
but I stayed in my dorm room and talked Chloe
through it on the phone instead. She was primarily doing
it on her own, as Dad had moved into an
apartment after confessing he couldn't handle it anymore. Chloe's decision
to save all of those recordings on her phone demonstrates
thoughtful forethought. I wonder how long she had been documenting

(52:15):
their mother's conduct before anybody else noticed. The manner she
prepared evidence leads me to believe she comprehended the problem
long before Emma. When autumn break arrived, Luke drove up
from Los Angeles, where he was having a gap year
working at his uncle's auto shop. We walked across campus,
holding hands like normal college students, and he handed me
his acceptance letter to cal Poly for the spring semester.

(52:37):
He kissed me farewell at the airport, and we both
realized we were not the same kids who had crept
about Riverside. We didn't talk about the almost wedding or
make any commitments for the future, since we were finally
allowed to be nineteen and unsure. The divorce papers arrived
by certified mail just before Thanksgiving, along with a message
from my father's lawyer explaining that Mark had been in
therapy for six months. It turns out he never wanted

(53:00):
the wedding either, but he couldn't stand up to Diane
when she was having one of her episodes. The marriage
that was supposed to be mine was ending for them instead,
and I giggled alone in my dorm room at how
twisted everything had become. Winter break arrived and Karen took
me up to stay at her house rather than return
to Riverside. We baked sugar cookies and watched Christmas movies,
and Julia eventually admitted to me that she had sensed

(53:22):
something was wrong for many years, but Diane was continuously
threatening to harm herself if anyone interfered. I should have
called CPS anyway, she remarked. As we decorated a gingerbread home.
I assured her that we all did our best with
what we knew. After New Year's I began writing about
all that had happened on a blog that I estimated
just ten people would read. The first piece about spotting

(53:44):
familial dysfunction received fifty thousand shares in two days, and
my inbox was full of letters from youngsters in similar situations.
I unintentionally became someone who assisted other youngsters in escaping
their own familial crises. In February, Chloe informed me that
she had submit did her Berkeley Early admission application, which
included an essay about perseverance and survival. She wanted the

(54:05):
same fresh start as I had, and she assured she
was already saving money from her target job for the relocation.
I assisted her with scholarship applications and SAT preparation via
video conferences, being the protective big sister I couldn't be
when we were both drowning. The spring semester rushed quickly
with finals and plans for sophomore year, when I would
finally declare my psychology major. One year after the wedding

(54:28):
that never happened, a Facebook message appeared from an account
I didn't recognize. Diane, posting from a new profile, said
she was fine, taking her medicine and working part time
at a craft store. She did not request to see
me or beg for forgiveness. She just wanted me to
know she was striving to get better. I stared at
the message for an hour before shutting it and not responding,

(54:50):
but I didn't block her either, since maybe one day
I'll be ready to hear more now I'm here in
my dorm room doing my final thesis on family systems
and mental health while cunning my finger over the thin
scar on my tummy that started it all. My phone
is constantly buzzing with typical nineteen year old activity, such
as Luke sending idiotic memes from his dorm, Chloe inquiring
about twin XL linens for next year, and Lily sharing

(55:13):
party picks from USC. This is the life my parents
sought to shield me from, believing they were shielding me
from wrong decisions and tragedy. Instead, they nearly killed me
with their protection, and I had to save myself from
their rescue. I closed my laptop and grabbed my backpack
for study group, going across campus in the California sunshine
toward a future I'm finally selecting for myself, one typical

(55:35):
adolescent step at a time. I really appreciated discussing all
of these issues with you today. I love just pondering
about everything together.