Mother In Law Incest Story

Mother In Law Incest Story

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Updated: May 12, 2017 / 04:26 PM CDT

Updated: May 12, 2017 / 04:26 PM CDT
If your mother-in-law is or was a handful, know that you are NOT alone. We took social media and slightly beyond to ask the brave for a few tales from their MIL diaries. In the interest of world peace, all contributors are anonymous.
We’d love to hear — and let’s face it, laugh at — your MIL horror story! Submit at the bottom of this post.
“My husband’s parents told me when we first got married I was not the daughter-in-law they had hoped for.”
“From the very beginning she automatically told me that he shouldn’t be dating me because he is too good looking of a man to settle for me.”
via Reddit
“After we had got engaged she would try and hook my husband up with all her friends daughters.”
“The day before my husband and I were to get married, my MIL told her son that it was a bad idea to get married to me and that I ‘had no respect for’ his family! We were already planning on getting married when we found out I was pregnant with our daughter, and she still decided ‘it’s a bad idea.’ So we got married without any of his family present!”
“My MIL hated me because my aunt used to date my FIL when they were 14-years-old. My MIL didn’t even meet my FIL until they were 22! But she told my husband that I was a wh*** and when she was dying, she told my husband even though I took care of her, she still hated me.”
“My mother-in-law shamed me for getting my wife pregnant…yet she complains she doesn’t have grandchildren!!”
“After we were dating about 4 months:
ME: ‘I’m going to run to the ladies’ to freshen up my makeup before we leave for the party.’
(I return 5 minutes later)
MIL: ‘I thought you said you were putting on makeup??’”
via Reddit
“She always has Jell-O shots and hash brownies. We couldn’t take the kids with us to visit because it was just too hard to explain that they could not have the Jell-O and they could not eat a brownie.”
She’s good to you, but not your spouse (who, yes, is usually her own flesh and blood)
“She was hard, but she also liked me more than she did her son… by a long shot.”
“I have to say I don’t have any mother-in-law complaints. She liked me better than she did my husband.”
“My still-newish gf at the time had received a car from her mother/my MIL. On a visit home, her mother got mad about something and took the car back. Okay, that’s kinda nasty, but not evil. To get her home, though, she was placed on a bus that evening. At around 2:00am I got a call from my gf that she was sitting at the very seedy bus terminal in Providence, RI (the closest stop to home), with her luggage. This was when cell phones were new and neither of us had one, so she couldn’t let me know to be there waiting for her. She had to wait there for 30 minutes for me to get there and pick her up after she called. Seriously, who would put their daughter in that kind of situation, no matter how angry they were?
via Reddit
“She is coming to visit for Passover. I’m not Jewish. Should be fun.”
via Reddit
“She decided we needed a piano, without even asking if we wanted one, and had it delivered to the door — with her videotaping it all. I was livid. We had absolutely no room for a piano but what are you going to do when it is at the door?”

Making brides cry on their wedding day
“On the day of our wedding we were taking photographs outside the church with the photographer we hired for $2000. We had planned what photos we wanted since we had limited time. There was one with us and my side of the family, one with us and her side, one with us and all the grandparents, etc. In the middle of it all my mother figures this is a great time to get a photo of “just our family”, which she still defines as her, my dad, my sister and me. So she asks the bride, my wife, to step out of the picture.
My mom shooed away my wife, making the bride cry on her wedding day.”
via Reddit
“I have a friend whose MIL told her she would handle hor dourves for the wedding reception. When the bride got there, she saw they had Vienna sausages and potted meat spread on Ritz crackers. They almost got divorced at the reception. His mom did it deliberately. She thought the bride was white trash and they would never stay married. It was a deliberate stab, but I always thought the bride should have asked more questions in advance. True story.”
“She would pick up my husband for family pictures after we were married and wouldn’t invite me because they were “just family pictures, after all.”

“MIL to room of 9 family members, 4 being my children and spouse, at Christmas:
MIL: ‘I was thinking of taking everyone to the theater to see a play this Christmas. What do you think?’
Me: ‘Sounds like a great idea.’
MIL: ‘Oh, you are going, too? I guess you could come as well.’”
via Reddit
“My ex MIL gave me a purse from Goodwill for Christmas. The problem was that it had dirt inside. She would also leave dirty sheets on the bed whenever we visited her. By dirty, I mean dirt and grass left in the sheets.”
“After a trip, my MIL stopped by our house from the airport on her way home. While my husband stepped away to get her a drink, she asked how the kids were. She stops mid sentence and says to me, ‘You got your hair cut. You look like a boy.’ I was stunned. As my mind reeled from yet another zinger from her just out of earshot of her son, my husband, I yelled to him, “Your mom loves my haircut! She thinks I look like a toy!”
“Almost 5 years ago my husband died from ALS at a young age. Over the course of our 20 year marriage we both totally disliked cut flowers and never gave each other cut flowers. Cut to his funeral, weeks before while planning it, telling his mother that her son and I hate cut flowers especially red roses. Cue to the end of the military ceremony, when everyone was to quietly talk or go home. My MIL pulls out 2 dozen huge red roses and starts passing them out for everyone to put next to his urn. She pushes these roses on our kids to ‘show respect for your father’. All 3 look at me with such surprise, because they knew about our hatred of red roses. I nodded ‘just do it and we’re leaving’. She was told by me firmly and nicely and also by my best friend that roses were not wanted let alone any flowers. Any time I see a red rose, I want to shred it and stomp on it.”
via Reddit
“When she walked in right during the grand finale of highly intimate relations.”
“One day I was home cleaning while my husband went golfing. I had my daughter with me upstairs, as well as my MIL. When I saw my husband coming in the door, I picked up my daughter (who was one, BTW) and leaned her over to wave down to Daddy. My MIL started freaking out and saying, ‘I swear, if anything happens to that baby, it will hurt me more than it hurts you!’ Who the heck thinks that is okay to ever say to a mom?”
“Last night my mother in law wandered into our bedroom at 2 a.m. drunk and thinking she was in her room. She turned on the light and got angry at us when we yelled at her to get out ( we share a bedroom with our 6-month-old).”
via Facebook
At least Grandmothers-in-Laws are funny
GMIL was visiting today and said, “Did you know today is Earth Day?”
ME: ‘Oh yeah. I’d almost forgotten.’
GMIL: “I saw it in the news, it’s just a bunch of people getting together and smoking the marijuana. They should be arrested! Out in public like that.’
I just said, ‘Mmmhmm.’ Pretty confident she got 4/20 and Earth Day mixed up. 😂
via Reddit
“A few years after my divorce from her son, she started treating me like an old friend and we have been on good terms ever since. She even told me she loved me, which is something I never thought I would hear.”

Happy Mother’s Day to all you MILs! Let’s make this list a lot shorter next year!
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I watch a young mother climb into the swimming pool with her 3-year-old daughter. They wrap their arms securely around each other and playfully bob up and down. Not a hint of distrust crosses this child's face; she appears confident of her mother's love and protection.
After a few moments, the mother attempts to place the child into an inflatable toy ring. Protesting, the little girl begins to kick her feet and cling desperately to her mother's neck. The mother tries to assure her daughter that she will not be left adrift, but her efforts fail.
Acknowledging the fear, the mother tosses the ring onto the deck and gently kisses her daughter's cheek. A smile of success and relief appears on the child's face.
The memory surfaces of myself as a small child: My arms are wrapped around my father's neck while swimming in a lake. I see the same joy on my face as I just saw a moment ago on the child's, until my father reaches his hand under my swimsuit to fondle me. My look of joy suddenly turns to one of shame and fear.
Today, I am left with an image of horror and betrayal.
I acknowledge another equally painful memory, of my mother, who did not protect me from my father. I look at the little girl in the pool and wish that I could have felt the same bond of trust with my mother that she feels with hers. Tears form in my eyes, and I dive into the water so they will go unnoticed.
Vulnerability is difficult to expose to others, but now I can allow myself the relief of crying. For most of my life, the pain was buried under the defenses that I had developed to emotionally survive the incest. ::
My father, a former police officer, began to sexually abuse me at the age of 3 and continued until just prior to my 16th birthday. His assaults ranged from manual stimulation to oral, anal and vaginal penetration. As a child, I did not understand what my father was doing. It seemed that he was providing me with the love and affection that a child desperately needs from a parent. Only after he began to mention the word "secret" did I question if what we were doing was right.
My father never physically forced me to participate sexually with him until my mid-teens. His force was emotional. He was my father, and I trusted him.
Between the ages of 13 and 15, I informed four people of the incest: my mother, a physician, a schoolteacher and my best friend. None of them believed me. Yet my behavior at the time indicated that there was, in fact, something seriously wrong in my home environment.
I was desperately crying for help -- through bedwetting, truancy, poor academic performance, attention-seeking behavior, self-destructiveness, hypochondria, chronic depression, fatigue and eventually drug and alcohol abuse and promiscuity.
Physical indications of sexual abuse were also present, such as chronic upper respiratory, kidney and bladder infections, as well as gynecological problems and rectal bleeding. My entire physical and emotional being screamed for someone to recognize that something was deeply hurting me.
At 16, no longer willing or able to endure any further abuse, I ran away from home. A week later, my father found and brought me home, only to beat me and throw me physically out onto the sidewalk. My mother's immediate concern, I felt, was that the neighbors might see what was happening. I walked away knowing that I would never return home, even if it meant ending my own life.Putting aside my fear that again I would not be believed, I sought the help of a social worker at the county mental health center. Finally, someone knew that I was telling the truth. She looked at the bruises on my face and said that it was her responsibility to report child abuse to the Department of Social Services. She asked me if I would talk to a case worker. I said yes; she dialed the telephone.
As she talked to the case worker, my heart raced. I was terrified of what would happen next. Would my father go to jail? Would I be sent to a foster home?
That telephone call led to my father's indictment and a trial. Although I was relieved to be out of my parents' home, the thought of testifying against my father in court was horrifying. I was breaking the silence that he demanded I keep -- I was betraying him. I felt ashamed, as if I were to blame for the abuse and should have been able to stop him.
As I testified, I could see the hate in his eyes. My mother sat next to him; I had been abandoned. Her support of my father strengthened my belief that I was a very bad person.
At the end of the court proceedings, my father was convicted of criminal sexual conduct in the fourth degree. His sentence was a two-year probation, with an order for psychiatric treatment and a $750 fine.
My sentence was the emotional aftermath of the abuse.
Ten years have passed since the trial, and at age 26 I look back on the painful process of recovering. Healing the wounds of my childhood has required more than the passage of time.
In fact, most of this time was spent in a state of emotional denial. On an intellectual level, I knew that I had been a victim of incest, along with physical and emotional abuse. But on an emotional level, I felt numb. When talking about my experiences, it was as though I were speaking about someone totally separate from myself.
I lived from crisis to crisis, was unable to maintain a healthy intimate relationship and continued to abuse alcohol. I was financially irresponsible, chronically depressed, a compulsive overeater and lived in a fantasy world. Yet at times my behavior was the opposite: super-responsible, perfectionist, mature, overachieving and ambitious -- to the point of near exhaustion.
Behavior that I had developed as a child to protect myself from my father was also still present. I would sometimes awaken in the night, screaming for my father to leave me alone. Locking bathroom and bedroom doors, out of fear that someone would attempt to enter and violate me, was common.
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