r/tifu

I (34F) told my husband (37) that I don’t think I’ll ever be happy. To go back a little bit: My Dad died in November this past year, and it was an extremely difficult loss for me. Then when things sort of felt a little more normal, I got pregnant. So many emotions came up with that- happiness, sadness that my Dad will never get to meet them. I ended up having a miscarriage about 1 week ago, and still dealing with symptoms and what not. I’ll admit that I have not been the most pleasant person to be around.

Now on top of all of this, my husband has an extremely stressful job and some other family issues that I won’t get into. I’ve noticed he’s been more angry and frustrated with work. I try to just listen when he’s upset but sometimes it’s hard. Mostly because I don’t really understand what he is going through. He has said multiple times that he feels alone (meaning he has no male figures left in his life to look up to).

We were sitting and talking after he was done with work, and he asked me if I was okay. I gave my normal answer of saying I’m fine. He launched into some story about work and how he’s not happy at the company. I was already in a weird mood and felt like really down. Without thinking and not even looking at him, I said “I don’t think I’ll ever be happy.”

There was silence after that and I looked up since I had been zoning out and the look of hurt on his face was something I haven’t seen. He pointedly asked me if I still wanted to be with him. I said of course. I tried explaining that it doesn’t have to do with our marriage and that I felt like I lack a purpose in life. He knows I have had a history of depression as well.

I could tell he didn’t know what to say. I felt so awful. He said he can’t imagine feeling that way and got teary eyed. In all our years together I haven’t seen him get this emotional. I wish I could explain better the look in his eyes- I feel like I destroyed a part of him. I feel like such a jerk and no matter how many times I apologized it doesn’t seem to matter. I feel like he’s always going to look at me differently. Ugh. I’m an asshole.

TL;DR I made my husband look at me differently cause I suck.

I bought a Hamilton Beach cold brew pitcher a couple years ago and haven’t used it until a few days ago, when it was in the high 80s (F°) for a while and I wanted a cold coffee drink. I added a ton of some generic medium roast grounds in it and then promptly forgot about it in the fridge. Few days later, I get up, find it in the fridge, decide I want to bring some to work with me. Figure it’s cold from being in the fridge and I don’t need to add ice. Here’s the FU. I didn’t know that leaving the grounds in there for so long would basically make it a concentrated Potion of Shit Yourself. And I drank a good 24oz straight up with only a little cream in it. I get to work, nothing happens at first. Within 20 mins I can feel the beginnings of an awful bathroom experience in my gut. I basically have to sprint-waddle to the nearest bathroom before I lose it. Thankfully made it to the toilet in time: the ungodly amount and sounds of the stuff coming out of my butt would have traumatized a small child. I was in there for a good half hour waiting for the shitstorm (literally) to stop. TLDR; don’t forget to google proper cold brew coffee techniques instead of just winging it and almost crapping yourself at work

Alright, picture this: I'm sitting in my living room, chilling after a long day, and my roommate bursts in, looking super pissed. Let's call him Mike. Mike throws his keys on the table and says, "Why didn’t you tell me about the car?" I’m completely clueless, so I just stare at him, trying to figure out what the hell he’s talking about.

Mike explains that our other roommate, Jake, found a massive dent in the side of our shared car. He assumed I did it because apparently, I was the last one to use it. But here’s the thing, I’m pretty sure I didn’t hit anything. I mean, wouldn't I remember smashing into something hard enough to leave a dent?

I start racking my brain, thinking back to the last time I drove. I went to the grocery store, parked without any issues, and came straight home. Nothing unusual happened. But Mike is adamant. He says the car was fine yesterday, and now it looks like it's been in a demolition derby. Jake backs him up, saying he parked it himself last night and there was definitely no dent.

Now I'm questioning my sanity. Did I somehow block out the memory of crashing into something? Did I hit a pole or another car and just completely forget? The more they insist, the more I start to doubt myself. I'm feeling like I’m in some psychological thriller where the protagonist realizes he's been doing terrible things without knowing it.

Mike suggests we check the car again, so we all go outside. Sure enough, there's a massive dent on the driver's side. It looks like someone took a baseball bat to it. I feel a pit in my stomach because, well, it does seem like I’m the most likely suspect. I mean, if it wasn’t me, then who?

Jake starts talking about insurance and how we're going to have to explain this to them. I can feel the weight of his disappointment and Mike's frustration. I apologize, even though I’m still not convinced I did it. They don’t seem to care about my uncertainty; they just want the car fixed.

Just when I’m about to resign myself to accepting blame and figuring out how to pay for the repairs, our neighbor walks over. He’s this older guy, always puttering around his garage. He asks what’s going on, and we explain the situation. He looks at the dent and says, “Oh, you mean from last night?”

We all turn to him, completely confused. He explains that around midnight, he saw some kids messing around the car. He thought they were just being rowdy and didn’t think much of it until he heard a loud bang. When he went to check, they’d already run off. He didn’t see the dent until this morning but didn’t know whose car it was until now.

I felt this huge wave of relief wash over me. It wasn’t me! I didn’t damage the car! Mike and Jake look a mix of embarrassed and relieved too. We thank the neighbor for telling us, and he offers to help us figure out who the kids were since he has security cameras on his garage.

We review the footage, and sure enough, we see a group of teenagers messing around near our car. One of them takes what looks like a metal pipe and whacks the side of the car before they all run off. We got the evidence we need for the insurance and maybe even the police if it comes to that.

Now Mike and Jake are apologizing to me, and I’m trying to play it cool, but inside I’m just glad I’m not going crazy. We’ve got a plan to get the car fixed and maybe even catch the little shits who did it.

TL;DR: My roommates blamed me for a huge dent in our car, but turns out some kids vandalized it last night. Our neighbor’s security camera saved the day.