I (28F) recently gave birth to our twin babies—a boy, Oliver, and a girl, Lily. They’re almost 9 weeks old now, and while I’m overjoyed to be a mom, I’ve never felt more physically and emotionally drained in my life. I suffered from postpartum hemorrhage right after delivery and lost so much blood that I had to be rushed into emergency surgery. I nearly died. I was in the hospital for almost two weeks recovering. The physical recovery has been brutal, but the emotional toll is even worse and I feel like I’m drowning every single day.

My husband, Matt (32M), was helpful while I was recovering in the hospital, but once we got home, he checked out. He works a 9 to 5 job, but instead of helping when he’s home, he escapes to his "man cave" to play video games or go out with friends. I’m left alone to care for the twins, and the exhaustion has become unbearable. I’ve been having terrible complications from the hemorrhage—constant pain, weakness, and intense anxiety. I still can’t walk properly without getting dizzy, and breastfeeding has been a nightmare. Lily struggles to latch, which leads to bleeding nipples, and every feeding session feels like torture.

I’ve tried to ask Matt for help, but every time I do, he brushes me off. His go-to excuse is that I’m on maternity leave and "this is what moms do." He says he needs to "decompress" after work and that I should be grateful he’s working to provide for us. Meanwhile, I’m lucky if I get 30 minutes of sleep in between feedings, and I’m running on pure adrenaline at this point.

Last week, after another exhausting day with no help, I tried to talk to him about how I felt like I was drowning. His response? He asked when we were going to start having sex again. He said, "It’s been two months, and I’m getting frustrated."

I was speechless. My body hasn’t even fully healed from the traumatic birth, and he was acting like I was depriving him. When I tried to explain how much pain I was still in, both physically and emotionally, he rolled his eyes and said, “Other women bounce back after having babies. It’s not that hard. You’ve gotta stop using it as an excuse.”

I felt so ashamed in that moment. Like I wasn’t good enough, wasn’t recovering fast enough, wasn’t being enough for him. It’s not like I didn’t want to be intimate with him again—I missed the closeness we used to have—but I was still bleeding occasionally, and I could barely walk without wincing. My whole body felt like it was failing me, and instead of being patient or supportive, Matt acted like I was deliberately withholding sex from him.

He even tried to initiate once when I was barely five weeks postpartum, and I had to practically beg him to stop because it was too painful. He got frustrated, said, "Come on, it’s been long enough," and huffed off like a teenager. Every time I tried to talk to him about how overwhelming things were, he’d steer the conversation back to when we’d be having sex again, like that was the only thing on his mind.

This Saturday was my breaking point. The babies had been fussy all night, and I hadn’t slept more than an hour in 48 hours. I was completely exhausted, and with my anemia still making me weak, I could barely stand, the incision from my surgery was throbbing with pain. Matt had left early that morning for a full day of golf with his buddies, despite knowing how rough my night had been. He said he'd be back by noon, but noon came and went, and he was still out. He was golfing at a course that was only an hour away, so I figured if things got too bad, he’d come home.

Around 4 PM, I was trying to feed Oliver while Lily was crying. My hands were shaking from sheer exhaustion, and in that moment, I almost dropped Oliver. I caught him just in time, but it scared me so badly that I collapsed on the floor in tears. I texted Matt, begging him to come home, telling him I was scared and overwhelmed. His response? “Just put them in their cribs and rest. I’ll be home later.”

“Later” turned into 9 PM, by which time I was a complete mess. I had been alone with the twins all day, with no help, no food, and no sleep. When Matt finally walked through the door, he didn’t seem to care at all. He saw me sitting on the floor with the twins still crying and giggled. Yes, giggled. He looked down at me, smiling like it was all some kind of joke, and said, “You’re being overdramatic. You should’ve just handled it.”

I saw red. His smug, dismissive little giggle was the final straw. In a blind rage, I grabbed his beloved golf clubs—the ones he’s obsessed with—and smashed them against the floor. I broke two of them before Matt even realized what was happening. He started screaming at me, calling me "crazy" and "psycho" for breaking something "so expensive" and accusing me of "losing it."

After that, he stormed out of the house and spent the night at a friend’s place. His best friend has since been texting me, calling me a "psycho" and saying I’m "unhinged" for destroying his clubs. He told me I owe Matt a huge apology for "overreacting" and that he’s been "trying his best."

But has he? I’m here, day after day, struggling to keep it together with two newborns while still recovering from a traumatic birth. I’ve been so weak that I’ve nearly dropped my baby, and Matt hasn’t been around to help. He works during the week, and I understand that, but every weekend he’s out golfing or with his buddies. And whenever he comes back from work he is either watching sports or playing online games. I haven’t had more than two hours of sleep at a time in weeks. I feel like I’m drowning.

I’m starting to feel like maybe I did overreact, but at the same time, I’m so angry that he doesn’t seem to care about how hard things have been for me.

AITA for breaking his golf clubs?

I (M28) and I recently broke up with my girlfriend of six years. When we started dating, her daughter was 3 years old, and now she's 9. Over the years, I got close to her daughter and treated her like my own, though I was never legally her father. I took her to school, spent time with her, and even helped out financially for things like clothes, school supplies, and some activities. But now that we've broken up, I've decided that I don't want to be involved in their lives anymore, especially when it comes to financial support.

My ex reached out a few weeks ago, asking if I could still help with her daughter's expenses because her father is not in the picture. She claimed that I was the closest thing her daughter ever had to a father, and that it's not fair for me to abandon her completely after being in her life for so long. I told her that while I care about her daughter, I have no legal obligation to support her, especially now that we're no longer together.

She's been calling me heartless, accusing me of leaving her daughter in the lurch after years of acting like a father. Some people said I should continue helping out, at least for the child's sake, because I built such a strong bond with her. But I feel like this isn't my responsibility anymore. I don't want to be tied to my ex in any way, and paying for a child that isn't mine seems unfair.

AITA for refusing to pay child support or take care of my ex-girlfriend's daughter after we broke up?

If you're a Millennial or Gen Z, ask yourself this: When was the last time you answered the phone when the number is not recognized? The answer is probably the same as mine: NEVER.

Polling organizations are still conducting polls via phone call. The only people answering these calls are Gen X and Boomers. So all of the polling we are seeing is JUST from the older generations. Which is hilarious considering TEXAS is basically a dead tie.

Harris/Walz is going to win by such a huge margin.