Every year since I was a child, Thanksgiving has been held at grandma’s. In 2012, my step-uncle took advantage of me being blacked out drunk, came into the room I was passed out in, and molested me. It took years to get over it. My whole family still talks to him, as if it never happened.

Pretty sure no one believes me. This man lives in another state.

So fast forward to this year, and a week before Thanksgiving, grandma calls to give me a heads up that this man will be in town this year. So obviously, myself, my husband, and two kids won’t be going. I am the one who has to rearrange my plans, my family has to miss out.

Not him. Which I think is just mind-blowing… but moving forward.

My mom is torn. She feels bad for grandma but also wants to see me and her grandkids. So she decided to hold Thanksgiving at her boyfriend’s house for her immediate family. She tells me to be there at 5, but that I can come over whenever. I’m tasked with desserts, so I spend my day baking pies and wrangling my twins to get everyone ready.

We arrive at 5:30ish. Late as usual. It’s a kid thing. Things are going great. Food is delicious. We decided to play Cards Against Humanity, and I leave to run home and grab it really quick. While I’m gone, my husband calls to say my mom, sister, brother, and the boyfriend left to grandma’s but will be back soon.

TWO goddamn hours pass, and they still aren’t back. They’ve been gone longer then they were there, meanwhile we are in this house with two other people we don’t really know. The roommate of the boyfriend and another girl. I’m furious.

So I decided we are leaving. I pack everyone up and text my mom as we get in the car, and she says they are almost there. She also sends another text that was a little garbled but said that I’m not leaving because we are going to get… and I quote, “tore up from the floor up.” Let that sink in for a minute.

My MOM, who has never said that in her life, is speaking to me like a 17-year-old thot. What in the actual fuck? So they show up, and she is wasted. We are all outside, and I say three times we are leaving just because I want to go. She pushes for an answer, and I blow up.

I tell her it’s complete bullshit she left in the middle of OUR Thanksgiving to go to grandma’s. Like, why didn’t she go earlier in the day? It’s bullshit that she assumes I’d want to get drunk on this day. I don’t drink on Thanksgiving. I haven’t since 2012 because I CAN’T.

I’m always the DD, and I prefer it that way. Too much anxiety.

My bitch-ass sister decided to pipe up and says, “but we moved Thanksgiving for you!” And that’s where shit hit the fan. I didn’t ASK for that. I asked to see them on a different day. They didn’t move Thanksgiving FOR me, they moved it BECAUSE of me. Because it’s awkward for everyone, apparently.

I hear my sister loudly apologize to her boyfriend for having to witness such a monstrosity as her black sheep sister, and I get in the car. We drive away, and I haven’t heard from my family since. I ruined everyone’s Thanksgiving. I feel extremely angry at my family, but I also feel guilt.

I have no idea why. AITA?

Edit 1: spelling. Sorry, on mobile and type all angry and fast to get it out.

Edit 2: Holy Support! First off, to all of those who suspect karma farming, I promise you that is not the case. I don’t have much karma. This is my very first post that has done this, and I didn’t intend for it to. Secondly, trauma guilt is a thing. I wish I would have posted the issue with my uncle and family years ago.

It would have saved me a lot of questioning my own sanity. I feel validated, yes! But I came here to check myself to make sure I wasn’t actually the asshole. Because it wasn’t clear until now that I truly Am NTA! Thank you to everyone for the love and supporting comments!

I needed to hear this so badly!

Edit 3: Answer to the “how did you know if you were blacked out.” I posted this is in the comments, but I guess after a while, people don’t read all the way down.

Quite the personal story, but I’m in a place I can talk about it, so okay.

The next morning, I had frames of memory that I originally felt like were a dream. The whole thing is foggy. He approached me the next morning and asked me if I remembered. I said something like, “uh no,” and he told me that I had sucked his dick. I told him there was no way.

Literally used the line, “even if you were Channing Tatum,” there was no way. I remember that clear as day. That afternoon he left and sent me a text telling me that I better not tell anyone. That if I did, we would both lose our marriages. I spent a good 4 months pretty fucked up.

Going over those frames of memory, trying to make sense of it. I felt dirty. I felt like maybe I had been wrong. Maybe I didn’t remember right.

Through counseling, those frames became a little bit clearer. I was walked through accepting what happened that night, being reminded of key details that proved to my brain that I was not at fault. Details like my husband walked me into the bedroom to put me to bed because I was drunk.

He took off my shoes, tucked me in, and closed the door. I remember that. At some point, this uncle opened the door, came in, uninvited. THAT is the key I hold to reminding myself I am not at fault, and I should not feel dirty or guilty. Lots of therapy.