“I Found Out My Son Was Using Drugs” What Happened When You Read Someone’s Diary?

I discovered my girlfriend only hung out with me because I’m ugly and she looks better shining next to me.

At 20, I babysat for a wealthy family. The mom was like a zombie, barely spoke. Sometimes I had to stay even when she was home—she’d just nibble on something and stare blankly at the TV. Once, while tidying up, I accidentally found and read her diary. I felt sorry for her; her marriage was unhappy, and she was clearly struggling with severe postpartum depression.

I learned my daughter stopped eating and became dangerously thin because her doctor told her not to give her classmates a reason to tease her.

For four years, I secretly read my roommate’s diary—it was like a never-ending novel. When they moved out, I took it. I pulled it from a bag and hid it. They never asked if I knew where it was.

The bathroom faucet was dripping, so I started fixing the drain and found my girlfriend’s diary. I discovered she only got together with me to be closer to her (married) brother, with whom she’s had a relationship for years.

I peeked into my teenage son’s diary. Sometimes it was neat with beautiful handwriting, other times it looked like a messy scribble. It contained both sweet, normal entries and some really dark ones. I realized I didn’t truly know my son—I had no idea he was using drugs, hurting our dogs, and fantasizing about me and his dad dying soon. I showed my husband, and we took him to a specialist who diagnosed bipolar disorder. Since treatment, he’s doing much better.

It wasn’t me, but my brother and his wife. One day, they told me my 12-year-old niece was starting to get interested in boys. I asked how they were so close that she shared this with them. They said they regularly read her diary. I saw this as a violation of privacy, which sparked a debate. They insisted they had the right. In the end, I bought my niece a diary with a little lock and explained why it’s important to keep it closed and always carry the key—so no one else can get to it.

I found out my 12-year-old sister is hopelessly in love with our 45-year-old uncle, Andris, and she already told him—but “András didn’t take it seriously.” Oh my.

My sister left her diary on the dresser, and I couldn’t resist looking. It was empty except for blank pages, but my fingers got covered in pink glitter as I flipped through. At dinner, she announced in front of everyone that she suspected someone was reading her diary, so she bought a new one, coated the pages with glitter, and now she knows it’s me. I told her I just saw it for the first time today and didn’t even know she kept a diary (really!). She didn’t believe me, and our relationship was never the same. Years later, during an argument, we found out it was actually our mom reading the diary all along. Since then, I can’t love my mom the same way—it hurts that she stayed silent.

I was helping my best friend’s family move. While packing the attic, I found an old diary. I giggled as I flipped through, expecting teenage crush stories, but it was much heavier: I learned her first child might not be her husband’s. I quickly put it away and later destroyed the diary—I can’t believe she kept it in the house. Her current husband and kids could have found it anytime!

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