As a travel nurse recruiter who worked pre pandemic, I can remember what the travel market looked like back then. And also what travel costs looked like too. Duplicating expenses back in 2019 was something that was actually profitable! Is it now? These current rates being offered by hospital systems are lower overall, they’ve been steadily falling over the past year or so…my question is this; what will it take for hospital CEOs to realize that as nurses leave the profession and patient care declines as a result of it, are they prepared to swallow their pride, admit they’re wrong, dig into their profits to offer more money OR what patient ratios and decreased census levels are they prepared to deal with? At some point, there has to be a break even equation for them.
Let’s just say, for instance, if a hospital is budgeted for 100 beds at full capacity, and a safe med/surg ratio would be 5:1…that would mean 20 nurses, easy math. But now that rates have gone down as much as they have, let’s say 10 nurses have chosen to leave and now that ratio has changed from 5:1 to 10:1, causing the remaining 10 nurses to feel inadequate, leading to burnout, and also slower response times for the patients they care for, possibly causing these patients to leave bad reviews for the hospital, which will eventually turn potential patients (and insurance revenue) away from that hospital.
So where’s the break even point? Or are hospitals willing to dig deeper than that point, to attempt to cut costs and increase profits? But by my example above, it would only be a temporary solution for the hospitals…as they’d be driving away nurses and revenue (patients). Have they really critically thought their way through this chess game with people’s lives and livelihoods in the balance?
Let me finish by saying this for the record. Yes I’m a travel nurse recruiter and a portion of my income is based on revenue from travel nurses working, but America’s “for-profit” healthcare system is such a problem. But who can (or is willing to) fix it? And how?

My gf (24F) broke up with me (25M)a few days ago and I’ve been crying my eyes out. We still talk on the phone but not for long and she doesn’t say I love you back. She hasn’t told anyone we broke up. I know she needs space and she hasn’t said to stop contacting her. I can feel her love, she still loves me but doesn’t have the heart to completely stop all communications.
I know I’m not the best bf I can’t remember things but I also know I’m not the worst, I listen to her, spend so much time with her(i genuinely want to), support her, push her, hold her, feed her and just be present. My memory is not good I have to write down my passwords for anything on my phone(that’s how bad it is) and I write a lot but may have forgotten a few things in the conversation that lead to our break up. With all that I still do very much believe this can work, we communicate so well and we have the drive but sometimes we need a separation for a bit. Some little alone time may be good but too much of it and ppl just get comfortable with it.
She brought so much colour in my life and I will not lose someone who I know is really one of a kind. I have been giving her some space and allow her to be alone. But I think showing her how much im willing to fight for us also makes someone feel that love comfort her about us and our future.
I just need ideas on how to win her back, sending messages every now and then saying “how much I think of her, have a good day, eat something” sounds pretty lazy for me after all I would give her the world. I don’t have much time i have to leave for work for a few weeks and I’m worried that may be too late. I need ideas something to do, something to show how much I love her. Please help I can’t do this.

Okay so IM AWAKE and NOT DREAMING and I’ve been thinking for the last week about how I’m going to need mini marshmallows for a thing I’m baking today, but I’ve repeatedly not checked. I recall a memory of me checking for mini marshmallows and seeing that we don’t have any. So I start getting ready to go to the store and I get in my car. As I’m getting situated, I realize the memory of me checking for mini marshmallows was a dream. I go inside and actually check, and we do have mini marshmallows.
Me and my partner have been talking about getting a new table for a while. I found one I really liked and I kept forgetting to show it to him. Finally, one day I remembered and he liked it and said I should get it. I go out the next day and buy the table. When he gets home he asks why the fuck is there a new table. I say that we talked about this yesterday. He says no we didn’t. We get into a huge fight. A day or two later, I realize the conversation I had with him was a dream.
I was super excited to make a recipe with maraschino cherries in it, but my partner ate all the rest of the cherries without asking me for them, so the day I was going to make them, I couldn’t and was super sad. Next day, see that we have all the maraschino cherries. Realize the memory of him eating the cherries was a dream.
These have been happening to various levels 3+ times per week. Freaking me out. I’m getting better at recognizing them but still. Freaky.

I asked chatGPT this question: My wife cried this mother's day because she was jealous that my mother takes care of me while she has to take care of her mother. My mother spoils me when I come over to her house, randomly buys me groceries when she has a generous urge, and pays my phone and gym bill while I'm in college. She would do anything for me. She is a saint and I'm very lucky to have her as a mother. My wife's mother depends on my wife to function day to day. My wife takes care of her other siblings, plans all the family get togethers, looks out for her half brother in high school, while taking care of her own 6 year old child. My wife once had to pretend to be her mother because her half brother got into some trouble at high school and her mother was too afraid to talk with the counselor. I told my wife that my mother is her mother now. And that my family loves and accepts her as one of their own. How can I ask my mother to treat my wife like she's her daughter? What are some good mothedaughter activates that they can do together? Not that my mother doesn't treat my wife with kindness, she does, I just want them to form a stronger bond and for my wife to not think of my mother as an in-law and start thinking of her as a mother.
chatGPT response: It sounds like you're in a complex situation, but it's wonderful that you want to foster a stronger bond between your wife and your mother. Here are some steps you can take:

1. Open Communication: Have an honest conversation with both your wife and your mother separately. Explain your desire for them to have a closer relationship and express how important it is to you.
2. Express Gratitude: Make sure both your wife and your mother understand how much you appreciate their roles in your life. Let them know that you value their relationship and want to see it grow.
3. Facilitate Quality Time: Encourage them to spend time together doing activities they both enjoy. This could be anything from cooking together, going for walks, attending a class or workshop, or simply having coffee and chatting.
4. Include Both Families: Plan family gatherings or outings where both your wife's and your mother's families can come together. This will help them bond in a more relaxed setting and see each other as part of the same extended family.
5. Show Support: Be there to support both your wife and your mother as they navigate their relationship. Offer reassurance and encouragement as they work towards building a stronger bond.

As for mother-daughter activities, here are some ideas:

1. Shopping: Whether it's for clothes, home decor, or groceries, shopping together can be a fun bonding experience.
2. Cooking or Baking: Spend a day in the kitchen cooking up some family recipes or trying out new ones together.
3. Crafting or DIY Projects: Get creative with some crafting projects or tackle some DIY home improvement tasks together.
4. Spa Day: Treat them to a spa day or create a DIY spa experience at home with facials, manicures, and relaxation techniques.
5. Outdoor Adventures: Go for a hike, have a picnic in the park, or explore a nearby botanical garden together.

Remember to be patient and understanding as they navigate their relationship. Building strong bonds takes time and effort from all parties involved.
I'm going to take the AI's advice but, I was hoping that someone, who has gone through something similar, could share what helped their spouse form a stronger bond with their in-laws. Some background information: my wife is in her 20s, my mother is in her 50s and married to my father, and we live in Kentucky.

(This is just a rant, but feel free to respond and call me out for being dumb; I need a hard shake and some sense.)
Situation: My country is homophobic, but the island I live on (I moved here a few months ago) is somewhat gay-safe, if not gay-friendly, since it's a touristic area and we have gay bars, etc. It is also known for its spirituality since the majority religion here is different from the majority religion in the country.
A few months ago, I went to a local spiritual healer here following a friend's suggestion. I am not really a believer, although I am interested in spirituality. I went there anyway because I was in such a mental mess and desperately sought help in any form. I told her why I was feeling low, that I had low self-esteem, and that I was heartbroken by failed relationships while desperately wanting one. I also felt lonely, especially since my family can't accept that I am gay. I emphasized that I don't feel anything wrong about being gay, especially since she mentioned some gays who came to her and changed, and I remembered she said that's okay, which made me feel more comfortable seeing her.
I came back a few times, and I initiated the second meeting because I just wanted to do something, even if it was pseudo-science or a placebo effect. When I asked to pray to the gods, I was like, please, I want to meet a guy and fall in love with him, and I want my hemorrhoids and whatever butt problems I have to go away so I could have satisfying anal sex lol.
At tonight's meeting, she kept talking about me being cured and being on "the right path," about the nature of being created as a man and woman. And that if I continue in my previous way of life, it's the way of death. I felt alarmed and asked her if she was referring to my homosexuality and if that was the reason I was miserable. She said yes, but not to worry because she had successfully cured 72 others. I protested that I came here not to be cured of my homosexuality as I feel nothing wrong about it, but she said she was just doing what my ancestors asked her to do and that many of her clients also said the same but were eventually cured. Turns out I am her patient number 73 to be cured of homosexuality without me asking for it.
I feel sad that once again, I can't find full acceptance as a gay person. It's just like what my other friends do: they are okay that I am gay but wish one day I will be back on "the right path." (I can't even trust my therapists because they are a Muslim/Christian)
What upsets me more is that I already have some thoughts about some of the things she said. Not about being cured, but about how my life is miserable as a gay person. I have no gay friends, struggle to find someone, feel lonely, and living in a homophobic place like this makes it harder to have safe discussions about gay sex health with doctors (so yeah it could be a way of death for me). Meanwhile, I am surrounded by people who are okay with me being gay but secretly pray the gay away from me. And although I am not religious, being raised in a religious society with religious friends, I can't help sometimes thinking if my butt problems are a "punishment" for engaging in gay sex. (And now she kinda waters these thoughts in my head.)
I don't think being gay is a curse, but I am cursed to be born, grow up, and live in this environment. I know I am old enough to not give a fvck, and take care of myself, but I am still in such an unstable mental health, while these are the people that make feel welcome and safe in a way, but with certain intentions.
So yeah, that's how I unintentionally went to a conversion therapy. As I said, this is just a rant, but feel free to respond and call me out for being dumb; I need a hard shake and some sense.

original setting by Michael McNeill
Myrla sat at one of the tables in the food court area of Nantrella Station. The Greylin’s crew had discovered several ships docked with family members on board and this had led to a rather impressively large impromptu family reunion with several dozen kwonese spacers gathered up in one space.
She was sitting slouched over the table, the only human in a sea of furry ratfolk, nursing her drink. It was a chocaf that one of the family from another ship had spiked with something s/he said was an intoxicant that she would enjoy. Myrla wasn’t sure if it was intoxicating, but it did add a pleasant richness to the drink and it warmed her in a way chocaf didn’t normally do.
She was reaching the end of her drink and was starting to wonder if she should try to find the kwonese who had spiked her drink to ask for a second round when she realized some of her crewmates nearby were talking about her. She hadn’t been listening, really, her mind just floating along in the comfortable feel of the “group-snuggle” as they called it, so she wasn’t sure what was going on.
After a few seconds of focusing on the conversation, she realized they were bragging about her. That was when one of them turned to her, dragging her into the conversation.
“Yah, see! This Myrla, she top stevedore, better than ya porter drone!” Nellin, one of the crew-family she had little interaction with other than when it was time to hustle cargo, had grabbed her by the sleeve and was tugging her into a small cluster of kwonese sitting around one of the tables. She only recognized one other face as being part of the Greylin crew. Nellin served as the ship’s load-master and chief stevedore, so she assumed the others in the group likely held similar positions on their own ships.
Myrla hoisted her cup in greeting, a lopsided smile on her face. Then she realized she did know another of the faces in the group – the cousin who had spiked her chocaf. Grinning, she pulled her arm free of Nellin’s grip and pointed to him then to her almost empty cup. “I’m going to need some more of that, cousin.”
This set off titters of laughter around the crew as the kwonese in question hauled out a silver flask from his vest pocket. “Powerful stuff, yah!” He made smacking sounds as he fixed her another chocaf from the table’s dispenser. “Makin’ it on the Yeongja, we do. Best you find.”
She drained her first cup and picked up the second. If it was an intoxicant, it was either incredibly weak or it was so smooth that it would hit her like a sledgehammer later. Either way, it was a delightful pairing with the bitterness of the chocaf. She took a sip of the fresh drink, smiling as the warmth seeped into her. The group shuffled around to make a spot for her to sit.
One of the others, a grizzled older kwonese, looked at her one eyebrow raised. “Nellin say you top stevedore. Say you outwork drone. Been load-master on Yeongja ten year and four more now on /San Matteo/. Not seeing that happen yet.”
She looked over Nellin and raised her cup in his direction. “[Samchun ]()[[MM1]](#_msocom_1) has never voiced displeasure with my work. If he wishes to say I work harder than a cargo drone, that is his choice.”
Her comment brought hoots of laughter from around the table. Out-bragging in a family was something of a sport with the kwonese and diplomatically saying they were boasting without calling them a liar was an integral part of the game, even better if you were doing so in support of them.
“Well-saying, [olinee]()[[MM2]](#_msocom_2) .” The grizzled cargo-chief crinkled his snout and raised his glass at her. “But now chincheog making me curious. Never seeing such a thing not being the same as impossible thing.” He paused to scratch his whiskers. “Not working much with your kind, true, so never seeing how much you can do.” Several of the group lightly slapped the tabletop and looked in her direction.
She glanced down at Nellin, seeing his whiskers twitching. His body language was just like it would be if they were playing cards and he were holding a winning hand, waiting on the pool to grow. Long seconds passed before the one she’d mentally dubbed “Mister Flask” leaned in.
“Let’s make it interesting.”
And there it was. Cred-chips started hitting the table and in moments, crew from all the ships were aware of the betting taking place. She sat, sipping her doctored chocaf, as the kwonese around her seemed to turn into a boiling pool of sleek fur and whiskers. Across the table, “Mister Flask” raised his cup to her … and winked.
She grinned back at him, returning the gesture. Now what was that all about?
One of the twins – probably Mikkeulon, from the scent – saw the exchange and leaned close to her. “Oh-ho! You catching Peulla’s eye, then! Good choice, but he wild.”
Myrla sputtered into her cup, but before she could say anything, the twin was gone. Then Nellin leaned in close. “You got this, girlee. Seen you move more easy. Just be going slow and easy and Greylin family got drinks for all station-time, ya.”
Myrla smiled to herself, shaking her head. The cargo-master may have said the Greylin’s crew would have all their drinks covered during their port-time, but given the kwonese need for these family get-togethers, “hajog-poog” they called them, every kwonese on the station would be regular visitors to the Greylin. The betting was just the method they used to pick which ship the party was held on.

It wasn’t long before the entire party had relocated to the docks where San Matteo was set to disgorge its cargo. The grizzled cargo-master, who Myrla now knew to be named Tostiklin, had one of the enormous cargo bays set up for the impromptu competition. She’d sent Orak off to the /Greylin/ to retrieve her backpack, leading to a humorous scene as the young kwonese came running into the docking area dragging the pack that was easily as large as he was. She stripped away the actual pack and her possessions that it held, leaving just the pack-frame. She tasked Orak with perching on the pack itself, to make sure it didn’t get lost in the excitement.
She walked over to the small cluster of cargo-masters and hefted her packframe. “I assume I’m allowed to use a cargo rack, since the drone has one?” She watched as several of them suppressed snickers and Tostiklin wrinkled his snout in amusement.
He waved absently. “Yahyey, of course! Wanting a fair run, we.” He motioned the cargo drone over, which stood almost twice as tall as its crewmates. The crowd settled down to a low murmur as the cargo master addressed the two. “This being the rules. Moving cargo for one minute, as much as you can, ya. No helping from others. No interfering with other stevedore. Move you stack from where it is to indicated position.” He pointed to a pair of chalked squares some thirty feet away from the initial stacks. “Is good?”
The drone’s head rotated from the kwonese to Myrla to the two stacks of cargo containers and back. “I to compete against this gentlebeing? Moving cargo like normal work?”
“Yes, Ledo.”
The drone dipped its head. “Understood but I do not understand why.”
Myrla leaned close to the drone. “They gambling on us. Who can shift more.”
The drone tipped its expressionless face first to one side then to the other while looking at her, a low whir of servos barely audible. Then it looked toward the group of kwonese for a moment. “Oh. Oh. Then … perhaps I should apologize now?”
Myrla grinned. “Apologize for what?”
“I am made to shift significant amounts of cargo. You do not appear to be. I shall apologize now for embarrassing you in front of your shipmates.”
Myrla laughed and patted the drone on its arm. “It’s all in fun, Ledo. I won’t be embarrassed.”
She could detect a faint note of smugness in the mechanical’s speech. “Very well. Then let us proceed.”
“Geebees, are clear on rules?” Myrla and Ledo both indicated their assent. “Then please stand by cargo.”
When they had taken their places, Tostiklin pulled a whistle from his pocket and blew on it. Myrla and Ledo began quickly assembling their loads. Remembering Nellin’s admonition, she carefully restricted her load, adding two containers more to hers than the drone loaded onto itself. It was enough weight to slow her down considerably, but she could still keep up with Ledo without straining.
Together, they dropped their cargo loads inside their assigned squares and Myrla fought the urge to race ahead of the drone, keeping pace with it instead. Twice more the cycle repeated itself, with Myrla carrying just enough extra to stay ahead in the count.
When the whistle blew a second time, the gathered cargo-masters counted the crates in each stack. Tostiklin’s face was a study in surprise as he counted Myrla’s stack again.
He looked at Nellin. “Your stevedore has clearly won. By a mere six crates, but she has won.” The kwonese erupted into cheers and groans, depending on the amount of credits they had won or lost. Tostiklin held up a hand and the crowd quieted down. “But you say she outwork drone. Win by six is much as keep up with drone.”
The crowd inhaled as a whole. /San Matteo/’s cargo chief was treading the fine line of being rude, almost accusing Nellin of lying. The older kwonese narrowed his eyes, looking for at Nellin, then Myrla, then at the crowd. “I like very much to be seeing her truly outwork drone. What is prize money?” One of the younger cargo-masters gave him the figure. “I say offering own creds to match that, double or nothing.”
The crowd went wild, the line of propriety saved. Myrla doubted Nellin had that sort of funds available, based on his change in body language. From behind her, she heard a female kwonese start chanting, “Match! Match!” She and Nellin turned to look, seeing Captain Wanniv shaking her fist in the air. In seconds, all the /Greylin/’s crew was chanting with her.
“Match! Match! Match!”
Nellin looked at her, his nervousness evident, even though things were going exactly like he’d told her they would. She winked at him and gave him a quick nod.
His bearing changed imperceptibly as he turned back to Tostiklin. “Yahyey, chincheog. You be seeing truth.”
Ban Baekui had sidled up beside her, patting her arm. “Time be taking off the governor, ya.”
She nodded absently, her gaze wandering around the room, watching as dozens of groupings indicated the level of betting taking place. “Got your bets made, chief?”
“Already making creds plenty. This to be sheer kwaja!”
She looked down at him, grinning. “The captain plays cards with Nellin, doesn’t she?”
Ban gave her a curious tilt of his head. “Frequently. Why you ask?”
Myrla nodded to herself, looking around again. “She backed him up at the perfect time. This gonna bring some notoriety to the Greylin. And that converts to …” She looked back at the ship’s lead mechanic, grinning broadly.
“Jobs. Bigger and better.” Ban nodded, grinning back. “Not playing cards with you, girlee. Best getting ready, then.”
Ban faded back into the crowd, leaving her with Nellin. “You good with this? Tossi want longer timeframe for this.”
Myrla dropped to one knee, making it so she had to look up slightly at the cargo master. “I need some advice, chief.” Nellin blinked in surprise at the abrupt change in the situation. When he signaled his assent, she continued. “There’s more going on than what I’m seeing. You just used a blood-kin name for him. The captain backed you up publicly under his challenge, so she’s now tied the two of you together, your win is now her win, and your loss her loss. Tostiklin almost called you a liar in front of everyone, but pulled it out by upping the bet.” She scanned the crowd, seeing several non-kwonese beginning to intermingle. “And that is interesting. More geebees are joining the party. And those aren’t spacers.” Her eyes narrowed. “Those are brokers – I recognize two of them.”
Nellin wrung his hands, a faint tang of nervousness coloring his odor. “Is … is complicated.”
“Not from my end, chief. Tostiklin wants to see how hard I can work, because he wants to learn more about my people and is willing to pay for the privilege. And he wants to see me lose to gloat…” She looked at Nellin as he started squirming again. “He doesn’t want me to lose.” She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Who is he related to by blood on the Greylin?”
“He brother to captain’s father…” Myrla’s eyes lit up in sudden understanding. “…and is brother to my mother’s mother.”
Myrla’s jaw dropped slightly as several puzzle pieces clicked into place. “He … he doesn’t want us to fail at all. He’s loaning the captain operating money as well as boosting the ship’s reputation.”
Nellin put his hands out to shush her. “Not be saying this!”
The good side of her mouth pulled up in a smile. “Don’t worry, not a word. Plus, by challenging you like this, you gain even more credibility with the family after I smoke that presumptuous cargo drone at his own game. You gain a reputation for understating how good something is.”
“See … is complicated.”
“Chief, go make your personal bets. This run is about to get interesting.”
The next ten minutes was a flurry of action as bets were made and new spectators arrived from stationside. At one point, Peulla drifted by, pressing another cup of that deliciously spiked chocaf into her hand with a wink. Soon, the cargo masters were huddled up again.
Tostiklin had found a voice amplifier somewhere, letting his voice be heard over the noises of the much-larger crowd. “We be setting round two. Nellin, loadmaster of the Greylin Bostlin, say he crewmate outwork cargo drone. We see earlier this geebee do that.” He indicated Myrla and she waved at the crowd, to delighted cheers from more than just her shipmates. “I say she barely beat cargo drone and I ask for a rematch. I offer double to see she truly outwork drone!” The crowd roared excitedly. “I ask to see geebee outwork drone and just minutes not enough. I ask for one whole hour!”
The crowd erupted into a frenzy and Myrla blinked in confusion. Nobody mentioned hauling cargo for an hour, she thought.
Captain Wanniv had slipped up beside her. “Just another day on the docks, ya?”
Turning to the captain with a smile, she said, “Using my own words against me as inspiration? I’m … well, I don’t guess I’m shocked. And yes, I’m good for it.”
“Is good. All this good.”
Myrla gave the captain a wink. “I love how they brought in some of the local cargo brokers and the Dockworker’s Guild to watch. San Matteo is a respected crew. To see them give the Greylin respect will carry weight later.”
The captain’s eyes crinkled. “I have no idea what you mean.”
Finally, the crowd calmed down again. Siezing the moment, Myrla stepped forward to address the Matteo’s cargo-master. “Samchun, it seems to me that all of our competition is being done handling cargo from the San Matteo. If we are unloading cargo, then am I working for you? And, if I am working, then as a member of the Stevedore and Dockworker’s Guild, I have to be paid or I lose my license. And I cannot bet on myself.”
The crowd fell to a dead silence as Tostiklin’s eyebrows rose slowly, first one then the other.
“FAIR!” Someone in the crowd shouted.
Tostiklin glanced in the direction of the speaker and turned back to Myrla, nodding slowly. “Wisdom speaks.” A grin slowly spread across his face. “I will pay you one hour with a bonus in proportional to how well you outwork the drone.”
Myrla nodded. “I accept these terms and your grace in offering them.” This brought a round of applause from the crowd.
“Again! This being the rules! Moving cargo for one hour, as much as you can, ya. No helping from others. No interfering with other stevedore. Move you stack from where it is to indicated platform.” He pointed to a pair of conveyor platforms some thirty feet away from the initial stacks. “Is good?”
Both workers gave their assent.
“Geebees, to your starting places!” Again, a blast from the whistle signaled the start of the competition. Both fell to their task and worked steadily, but Myrla thought it looked as though the drone knew it had already been beaten. For every stack of crates it moved, she moved twice as many. When it tried to match her volume, its speed dropped off significantly to the sound of overloaded drive motors.
They were well and thoroughly inside the cargo bay of the /San Matteo/ and the crowd was only able to keep up by watching on a series of holoscreens that had been set up for the purpose. True to Bae’s request, she “pulled the governors off,” falling into her work-trance, letting the crates guide her flow. The conveyor platforms advanced with them, never more than thirty feet away, making the job a bit less arduous. The cargo-master group was inside with them, as well, and Myrla shut them out by treating them like she did any other client who hung out to watch her work.
She was so deep into her work that the whistle caught her by surprise and Nellin had to physically intervene to get her attention.
“Is good, girlee. We done it. YOU done it.”
Myrla walked out of the cargo hold, blinking and shaking her head, trying to get refocused on where she was. Then she realized the entire hajog was chanting her name. Bae and Wanniv were waiting on her at the bay-door. Bae handed her a bottle of water and Wanniv grabbed Myrla’s free hand in both of hers. “You best lucky charm!” As the crowd caught sight of her, the chant broke into a wordless cheer that threatened to overwhelm her.
Finally, the cargo-masters made their counts and conferred together with a lot of nodding and one shaking their head incredulously. Tostiklin motioned her and the cargo drone forward to join them.
“Thinking it clear who wins.” He broke off with a grin as the crowd erupted into cheers again. He tried to continue twice before the cheering died down enough to let him be heard. “Seeing you never slowed down, girlee. Thinking maybe you having another gear or two.”
Smiling, Myrla shrugged as the crowd went wild again.
“And!” He held up a pouch for everyone to see. “And, here is your payment. One hour’s wage for a class five stevedore. And since you performed double what the drone performed, your wages are doubled.”
Again, the crowd roared and she fought to keep the surprise off her face. She was a class one stevedore and class five rates were significantly higher than she was used to getting. As she accepted the pouch from him, she leaned in to be heard above the crowd. “You are a wise and honorable gentlebeing, Samchun. May your words echo among many gajog.”
That got her an extra cheer from the cargo-chiefs and a pat on the cheek from a grinning Tostiklin. “You taking good-good care of the Greylin crew, then. So, let’s be drinking to this!”

So some of you may remember me from my post about the horrible “purging” from my Tret and clindamycin combo that I was prescribed. After less than 2 weeks, I had a horrible reaction that left my entire face red, bumpy, and filled with white heads. I went from smooth skin with maybe a couple of pimples and acne marks to severe acne.
Even though this is an ongoing issue, it’s still a long read! I’m so sorry in advance!
About two months ago, I quit spirono due to a bad reaction I had (I wrote an essay in my history if anyone is interested) and haven’t had too much of a problem with acne returning.
My skincare routine was originally spirono (before I quit it), azealic acid and retinol, but my dermatologist said they won’t renew my prescription unless I visit them. I didn’t want to spend the money to visit them because my dermatologist is really expensive ($170 per visit) with really limited availability and always just talks about accutane despite me saying I wasn’t interested, so I decided not to book with them and to instead just go with telehealth to get my prescription renewed. This was such a mistake!
When I talked with the nurse on GoodRx care, she suggested I go on doxycycline and spironolactone- which were both medications I wrote in the notes that I couldn’t go on. I explained again that I couldn’t go on it , so she gave me a list of prescriptions to “choose” from, which I thought was a little strange but I figured that it was normal since I never used telehealth for dermatologist before. I told her I would be willing to try an antibiotic and tretinoin. She prescribed me clindamycin and tretinoin, and told me to read the instructions on how and when to use them. Thinking back at it, it’s strange that she prescribed me such a higher dosage of both (1% clindamycin and 0.05% tretinoin) but I just “trusted the process.”
I explained my routine in the original post if anyone is interested, but it was fairly simple. After just a few days though, my entire face erupted in giant bumps (not cysts, but they looked very similar. They were red inflamed legions with no pus), pimples, and whiteheads. I posted some pictures of the before vs after if anyone is interested, but just know it got so much worse after that.
After visiting my original prescriber, the doctor supervising her (this was all on GoodRx care, so the chat was accessible to everyone) told me to immediately go to urgent care (she never saw pictures of my acne post-treatment, I only described what happened. This is because you can’t send additional pictures via good rx care). I called urgent care and they said they could help with the itching or any pain, but they can’t do much besides that. My face was itchy, constantly inflamed, and in so much pain. I went back to nurse that gave me the routine. The original prescriber told me that she was considering adding me on to an oral antibiotic to help and I agreed, only for her to never send the prescription to the pharmacy. I went back to the chat and asked about the prescription only for the PCA to respond that I needed to pay for another appointment if I wanted another prescription.
So I made another appointment and explained what happened, only for a new nurse to respond and tell me to see a doctor because my acne was too severe and that I already used the treatments that they had available. She said she was unwilling to prescribe anything else due to my reaction to their prescriptions.
At this point, I spent so much money on appointments and medications and I just felt very tired and frustrated. I made an appointment with a primary care physician and explained what happened. He said the reaction was likely due to the 1% clindamycin and to stop using it immediately. I also thought that might be the case because a few days before seeing him I patch tested clindamycin on my chest and noticed that my chest felt itchy the next day, and that I had some red marks on it.
I talked with him about how I believed that I was having a reaction and not normal acne, and after discussion we settled on a steroid course for 10 days and an antibiotic for 30 days. The steroid (a corticosteroid) treats the inflammation and the antibiotic will treat the bacterial aspect. This is all in addition to maintaining the tretinoin in my routine.
Thank you to everyone that gave me advice on that post! Especially to the person that told me to understand the difference between irritation and purging. My case was NOT purging. This was clear because I had acne in areas I’ve never broken out before. I’ve also had acne for years, so I knew the itchy redness was unusual. I kept trying to convince myself that I was overreacting, but after talking to you all, my friends, and that doctor, now I realize that I should be much more careful and observant with my health.
Also, be careful with telehealth, it’s hard to get the same quality of care as an actual doctor. I deeply regret trying to be cheap and fast with my skin. I’m now, quite literally, paying for it (financially and emotionally lol). Also, don’t stay stuck in an echo chamber! I love all the support I got from you all, but it’s important to realize that the answer isn’t always “just be patient and stick with it,” if you think something is up, then talk with a professional!
I just wanted to share this update in case it helps anyone. Again, thank you so so much for all the kindness I received from my last post!

Trigger warning - religious differences
I always bragged about how awesome my extended family was. NO family is perfect, but I heard horror stories and always counted my blessings that I had strong ties with my Aunt and uncles since I was raised an only child. That was until a few months ago when my last living Aunt, whom I considered a second mom, shattered me.
Ok, some backstory here. My aunt is a Jehovah’s Witness. Now before you get all judgy, I have always loved her, my uncle and her son with all of my heart. I still do. I respect that they have found faith and live by this code on the daily. I have met many people from their congregation and loved them all (ok, a couple of exceptions). I also appreciate the community they have and love they all show each other. If it weren’t for the religion itself, I would have converted.
I, however, am pagan and have always been since I was about 5 (even the first book I signed out from the school’s library was about witchcraft). Not raised that way, but always found spiritual comfort in nature and the natural world. I have a very strong connection and dedication to my Powers That Be and work every day to help the world be a better place. My Aunt did not know my religion until about 7 years ago. That being said, she and I would have very philosophical conversations when we hung out together. Even at the age of 8, I would listen to her preach to me and ask questions to which she never had answers. I remember her telling me how only 144,000 people would be allowed in heaven and didn’t I think that would be wonderful knowing that our whole family could be together again after we died. We’d all be in heaven if we were all Jehova;s witnesses. I had gone with her many times to do field service (door to door) and asked her why they do that if there’s only a certain number of people allowed. Didn’t that lessen her chances of getting in because I’m sure there were many people more deserving than myself. How did she know for sure she’d be one of the ones to get in and was that fair to keep bringing people into the religion when all the spaces were probably already filled up?
At 8 years old, I had many questions and was just trying to figure these things out. Since she was an adult, I figured she had the answers. My questions were not with malice, just for a want of better understanding. When she didn’t have the answers, I'd ask my mother and grandmother. While they were extremely amused, they said they never understood either. They never said anything bad about her or her attempts to get them to convert, just allowed me to explore religion and spirituality as I wished so I could make my own decision of what was right for me.
Once I was an adult, I avoided talking to her about religion, but found that if I didn’t ask questions and just let her talk, it made her happy. I know she’s a good person at heart and that’s all that matters. After my Mom passed, my aunt and I talked almost every week. I loved talking to her and she became even more like a mom to me. She gave me encouragement and we supported each other through health and emotional crises. I’d make it a point to try and visit at least once a year for a few days so she could visit with my daughter and I. We’d always do lunch with her friends and I loved it. I fell in love with some of the people in her congregation and wished we could live closer to hang out more. I, however, never wavered on my spiritual beliefs, but I have never cared about the religion, race, or sexuality of anyone. If we got along, we were friends and that was that.
My aunt and I had come to an understanding that I would not convert and that we would love and respect each other regardless. Religious talk was off the table for the most part until both of my uncles (my aunt’s two brothers) passed and she had a very hard time dealing with it. She was the last surviving sibling and she was sinking into a depression. I’d talk to her at length and listen to her as she mourned the fact that she would never have contact with them (and my mom) in heaven because they never converted. When she asked me what I believed, I told her that I believed that the soul lived on after the body died and that I believed in reincarnation. I explained my beliefs were closer to hindu and buddhism than christianity (so she had context). We had very long talks and she expressed that she respected my views and actually found comfort in talking with me.
That was until my daughter and I opened our store about 3 years ago. It’s a metaphysical shop and we have crystals, teas, gifts, jewelry, candles and more (about 10% strict;y pagan). My aunt was happy for us until it dawned on her that we might sell pagan stuff. I told her what we sold and she asked me if I was a witch. I replied that I suppose that was one way to describe me, but, again, I considered myself spiritual and that I followed a path closer to buddhism, hinduism, native american. I sent a couple of pictures of the jewelry that we made and she said when we came down, we should bring the jewelry making.
We did, I brought down our best crystals to wrap and bracelet materials and my daughter and I made her a necklace with a very expensive stone (A $200 piece). She brought her friends over and they picked out crystals that they wanted, made bracelets and such. We had fun and I was happy to do it, though I wasn’t expecting people that I had never met before. Still, we had fun. My daughter and I also brought her a basket with local items from our hometown, (Raw honey, handmade stoneware mugs, cutting board, herbal tea and some other items made by us as well) She was thrilled. My aunt and uncle had taken a couple of bad falls a few months before and so my daughter and I made them hand carved cedar walking sticks as well because we knew they went for regular walks and thought it would help their balance. It felt amazing to lavish expensive and heartfelt gifts on them as I has struggled so long with money. I was finally in a place that I could do it. To say the gifts probably totalled in excess of 1K is on the low side, but I was still happy to do it.
Besides the fact that they tried converting my daughter when I wasn’t around, it was a lovely visit. The only problem I had was with a new person my aunt introduced us to. This woman, we’ll call her Dee, ignored me and only talked to my daughter. She was my age if not older, but conversed with my daughter, 17, like I wasn’t there. They traded contact info and Dee insisted that they keep in touch while my daughter was in college. Dee said she was going to keep an eye on her. I thought that was odd, but I did enjoy the feeling of having an extended family sort of since I actually had no family besides my Aunt.
Let’s jump forward to the following year and we were struggling financially. Not horrible, but unable to lavish the gifts that we did the year before. Instead, I created a beautiful aromatherapy candle, some delicious herbal teas and we found a couple of very rare antique tea cups that had amazing value to them (about $100 a piece). We made a basket for her and I decided we would cook for them. (gluten free, soy free, dairy free etc). Our visit went so well, it was great to see them. We just enjoyed hanging out with them and talking. They loved the meal we made for them and the dairy free organic chocolate I made. Everything was great until the day we were leaving. Dee showed up and again ignored me, talked to my daughter and chastised her for getting a pet snake as that was an animal associated with the devil. My daughter is one to push the envelope a bit and said how she wanted to get a tattoo as well, one of a snake. Both my aunt and Dee were shocked and said she should never get a tattoo.. Again related to the devil, I went to the bathroom as I was not involved in the conversation and knew my daughter could hold her own. Little do they know that my daughter is also trans. I told her not to say anything to them just yet. I came back to them talking about how college was going and I thought my aunt and Dee would faint when she said her college roommate was male. She quickly explained that it was fine because he was gay and how awesome he was (he is btw). She quickly realized what I meant when she saw their reaction to him being gay. It wasn’t that she was living with a boy, it was that he was gay and “why did he choose to be gay.” I tried redirecting the conversation a couple of times, but they ignored me.
They finally let it go, but just after Dee left, we were getting ready to depart as well. My aunt returned the basket I made for her (minus the expensive tea cups). She said she could not accept them as they were touched by the devil. Shocked, I asked what she meant. She said that because they came from my store, they carried Satan's influence and she could not have them in our home. Truthfully, I explained that I made those items for her and that the only things that came from the store were the teacups. She was confused why I had gotten upset. When I explained that I gave her a gift and if she didn’t want it, she could regift it or throw it away. That gift came from my heart with all the love I have for her and that I didn't need to know her opinions about the gifts because It insinuated I, myself, was evil and it was extremely hurtful. She basically continued on insisting that I was just not aware of how much Satan had a hold of me. All I could do was tell her how much I loved her and leave.
I didn’t take her calls and cried about this for over a month. I finally felt strong enough to talk to her and again she insisted that because those items touched my hands, they were influenced by satan and she wished I could understand how they just can’t have that influence in their home. Frustrated, I asked how she could shop at grocery stores or buy anything from department stores because she can’t guarantee that those items didn’t touch hands that were influenced by satan. Also , I asked her how they could have eaten the food I prepared for them and why did they even invite me into their home to begin with if that’s the way she felt about me. She suddenly needed to go.
We talked a few times since then but it always came back to religion. At one point I asked her again why she would even invite us to her home if she felt that way. Her response was to save my daughter. The pain and heartache she has inflicted is immense, but I cannot bring myself to argue the point because I’m afraid if I make my point to her, it will break her. She’s in her 80’s and I believe has the beginnings of dementia. Her religion brings her comfort and I don’t want to say anything that might make her doubt her religion at her advanced age.
I’ve decided it is probably best for both of our mental health to stop all contact with her( with the exception of sending cards telling them how much I love them) even though I’ve always seen her as a second mom. AITA for making this decision and not trying to work things out with her or allow her to believe that I still might convert?
*** Please understand this is not a bash on any religion. Everyone has the right to believe in whatever religion they wish. That includes me, so if you feel the need to bash them or me for our spiritual choices, you can move along ***
I have never felt like I needed to hide any part of me from my friends, family, and the public in general. Not until now. Buckle up, this is a bumpy ride.
I've always been kind hearted, almost to a flaw. I took care of my grandmother, my step-dad, my mom and helped with a family friend during long term and terminal illnesses. I had my daughter and, without her father's help, raised her on my own with very little to no support. I helped friends with their farm who left me homeless in the end because I want interested in an extramarital affair. I lost my home and all that I loved including my husband because he lied to me and never paid it mortgage while I was recovering from an illness. In short, I have had a tough life, but it has never made me turn my back on anyone who needed help or in difficult family when they were ignored by the others. That's just some background before I tell you this situation.
Three years ago, after a bout of covid, my daughter was suicidal. She had been in the top three of her HS class and yet at that point almost failed her junior year. Not knowing if she would have the emotional strength to face college and adulting in general, I set up a plan B for her. I started a store in her name and that way she'd have something at least to fall back on if she was unable to function in the m-f 9 to 5 world. We started slow by doing craft fairs, seeking crystals, candles, jewelry, and gifts. We were kicked out of one because the person running it assumed we were witches. She was not wrong exactly as we identified as pagan, but we lived our life closest to the Buddhist and Hindu traditions, not traditional wicca. These were people who knew us for years and were considered acquaintances if not friends.
Our business flourished and we ended up opening our brick and mortar that fall after remodeling our garage/ barn and turning it into a store front. Even though I run it for my daughter, it is hers and we work together to keep it going.
In the past few years I've lost my mom, and two uncles. I have no family besides my mother's sister and her husband which we were pretty close. My aunt knew that I was pagan and had tried recruiting me into her religion since I was 5. Even at that tender age her religion never made sense and I would ask her questions to which she never had answers. I accepted her and respected her and her religion even though I didn't agree. I loved the people she introduced me to that were in her church and I always got along with them. That is until we visited the year after we started our store. My aunt was thrilled about us bringing crystals down and making jewelry with her. We met a new friend of hers (middle aged woman) who ignored me completely and oozed affection on my daughter. She got my daughter's contact info and contacted her frequently. Trying to convert and ”save” her. My daughter wasn't having it as even though she was in a delicate state, she is very level headed and strong willed.
This year we visited and we brought herbal tea, candies, and rare vintage tea cups for my aunt. The day we were leaving, she handed back everything but the vintage tea cups and told me she couldn't accept them because they were touched by Satan (aka made by my hands). To say I was devastated is an understatement. This woman was always like a second mom to me and we had grown closer after my mom passed away. It was a 20 hour drive home and I cried most of the way. I cried for weeks after a well. Thinking of it now still brings me tears. As she was telling me that Satan had a hold on me and that she was trying to save me, all I did was remind her how much I loved her and my uncle. Every time since then that we have talked, she says the same thing, but now she told me I was a lost cause. I feel like trying to stay in touch is detrimental to her mental health ( and my own). I don't want to give up or abandon the last of my family, but I can't talk to her and endure the endless insinuations that I'm evil because I don't believe in her religion. She took a bad fall and broke her arm. The last time we spoke, she talked as if it was my fault for bringing the devil into her home.
While I could usually brush this off as delusional ranting, it hits hard because the same day she fell, my dad died. I know the Powers That Be only give as much as we can handle, I just wish they didn't have so much faith in me.
They are in their 80s. I know in all the pieces of my broken heart that they'll never be able to accept my daughter and I unless we change religions and it has crossed my mind just to say we have to put her at ease, but I can't lie like that to them and we cannot betray ourselves like that either. By

In the 80s, when I was a kid in my late single digies… I loved Garfield. LOVED him. I owned every digest there was and read them all into worn out rags. I remember following my mom around reading her my favorite panels with sheer delight and nearly containable hilarity at poor Odie being kicked off the table, yet again.
As I approached middle school, my morning comic preference inevitably moved to Calvin and Hobbes and in general, comic books trumped newspaper comics until I aged and I lost my sense of humor due to the crushing weight of adulting. As an adult it became painful obvious to my nostalgia brain that Garfield was atrocious. Even in its heyday, it was just so mindless, repetitive and unfunny… small nuggets of chuckles could be found in Jon’s panels but even those weren’t really exceptional until Garfield Minus Garfield came out.
Well, queue 2024 and I have 3 kids aged 7-10 who are absolutely infatuated with Garfield. My youngest daughter literally followed me around all evening reciting panels, nearly in tears of hysterical laughter at each subsequent pane. I stopped and laughed about an hour in to it as it dawned on me that I had gone full circle. At first I was anxious for the phase to end but now I think I’ll be a little sad as the inanity of Garfield and how a person not yet jaded by maturity can find it so satisfying. As I barked that they should be reading chapter books instead of being glued to the comics, I started to feel guilty for trying to “mature” them out of this phase.
I think I’ll read some Garfield with my kids tonight.

Sprint should have been introduced in Halo 2 not Halo 3. 344 messed up big time.
Ok ok my mom and I argued that master chief should have sprinted way before halo 1 but I cut him some slack because he was sleep and he was tired so no sprinting until breakfast. And to his credit he did sprint once in halo 1 when Cortana warned him about the ring so he was scared so he went to go save Keyes and the galaxy from the primordial’s grand kids. But then I downloaded mods and zoomed out of the cutscene and found out Chief stopped sprinting the moment he was outside of Cortana’s line of sight. So it was all a front to impress her and make her think that he’s “him”. Forgivable but chief is on thin ice after that clear display of insecurity after trying to impress a womon with his athleticism rather than his personality.
Fast forward to halo 2….
“You know how expensive this gear is son?”
“Tell that to the covenant.”
Tell what, chief?!?!?? It was a simple question. The other guy who asked should have followed up by accusing chief of dodging the question. Then berate chief for his obvious lack of math skills.
“Uhhh that’s not relevant but can you tell me how expensive you think this gear is, son?”
-chief gets nervous and remember that one time he sprinted in halo 1 so he starts running away-
-he doesn’t account for the fact that the other guy could sprint also-
Chief will then spend the rest of of the game SPRINTING away from the gear guy, who is hunting him down to challenge him as to whether or not he knows how expensive the gear is….until the finale when he’s trapped on the prophets ship with the gear guy and he is forced to confront his balance sheet. No more sprinting or running away….it’s been disabled
“Master chief you mind telling me what you’re doing on that ship?”
“Sir…finishing up on my accounting”
Perfect cliffhanger for halo 3. I suspect you all will have the urge to upvote my script but I challenge you to dislike if that’s even possible given how perfect this rewrite is.

I've been pondering the ubiquity of vague vision and mission statements across the corporate landscape and couldn't help but kick off a discussion here. As part of a series I'm doing called "Vision and Mission Reboot," today, I want to tackle a pervasive issue that I've dubbed the Vagueness Trap.
It seems like a rite of passage for companies to craft vision and mission statements that are as broad as the ocean, filled with buzzwords that sound nice but fail to define anything concrete. The problem with this approach? It's akin to setting sail without a map or compass. You might have a grand vessel (your company), but without a clear direction, you're just drifting, susceptible to the currents and winds of market trends and competitors' movements.
Why does this matter? A well-defined vision statement serves as your North Star, offering guidance and motivation not just to your leadership team but to everyone in the organization. It answers the "what," "for whom," and "why" in a way that's both inspiring and grounded in reality. The mission statement, on the other hand, lays out the "how." Together, they should paint a clear picture of your company's purpose, direction, and the unique value you bring to the table.
So, what's the solution? Start by asking the hard questions:
Who are we serving? Narrow down your audience to a specific group who truly benefits from your services.
What unique value do we provide? This goes beyond being the "best" or "leading" something. How do you make your customers' lives better, easier, or more fulfilling?
How do we accomplish our goals? This is where specificity in your mission statement shines. What strategies, technologies, or methodologies set you apart?
The goal is to emerge with a vision and mission that not only guide your strategic decisions but also resonate deeply with your team and your customers.
If you're finding this resonates with your experience or strikes a chord about how you've approached your own company's vision and mission, I'd love to hear about it. Have you seen a transformation in your organization after refining these statements? Or are you struggling to cut through the fog? Let's dissect this together and share insights, examples, and maybe even a few success stories.
Remember, a ship in harbor is safe, but that's not what ships are built for. Let's chart a course for clearer, more meaningful visions and missions together.

I hope this is okay to post here, I never posted on reddit before. I just got out of the hospital off of a failed attempt, I have no memory after taking the pills so this is all from my gf and parents pov (along with notes and texts i left) For reference i just turned 15, my gf lives across the street from me and we’ve been together about 5 months. She cheated on me the week of my birthday (feb 25 to march 1st) Which has let me to be very stressed out. She has also lied, manipulated and gaslight me multiple times Which led to me being constantly stressed out and having a lot of panic attacks, which everyone told me was the reason i didn’t have any memory. Turns out i actually took a minimum of three bottles of pills. All i have are bits and pieces of my memory so i’ll recall it the best i can. I remember taking about 10 pills then crying in my gfs arms, Then my memory goes blank but apparently my gf left and i started angrily texting everyone to bring her to me. I then sent my gf about 40 texts ranging from blaming her to begging her to come back to my house to telling her i deserve to die. I then wrote in a journal i keep “ i swallowed the whole bottle i’m scared this seem like it was the only way out nothing but pain [illegible] i can’t ever wish(?) [illegible] someone i’m scared i feel weak help she’s braying (?) me someone help me i’m scared i’m scared i’m scared” My gf then called the cops and i was taken to the hospital where i apparently started screaming and cussing at everyone telling everyone to “shut the fuck up” I then started saying things very out of character for me to the female nurses (which i will not repeat out of shame) I have no idea how long this went on but When i finally wore off that i woke up in a room with a sliding glass door. I remember trying to stand and falling over, I stayed there for about 5 ish days For the first two i could barely stand and my nose felt like it was bleeding constantly. The first night I was there i remember having the weirdest dreams and sleep paralysis. I’m sorry for my messy storytelling, I’m very scared still about that whole week and it’s definitely changed my life . I constantly think about how i felt afterwards. Does anyone know how i can get over this? And how i can help my gf as well because i haven’t been the best bf to her and this whole experience has messed her up.

Sometimes you need that courage to breakup with the person who's actively hurting you. If you know anything about narcissism and its cycles you know how torturous such a relationship can be. Love booming is followed by devaluation, followed by discard, followed by re-engagement.
My ex isn't a full blown narcissist, rather a more introverted and rationalising covert narcissist. Looking back on our relationship there's a reason it seemed so fairy-tale perfect in the first six months. I argued my doubts away by thinking this was the first time I was in love in three years. We travelled a lot, delayed university plans, flirted, went out, teased each other, supported each other. He mirrored my tastes in music, literature, and film; we made plans for the future.
Six months in, his effort disappeared and the devaluation phase began. He withdrew the attention he'd put in fulfilling my love languages and started future faking. All our discussions and small fights were very civilised and now I understand that this was the case because he purposefully misunderstood my concerns. I know my worth; I know my failures and my faults but that doesn't mean I have earned emotional manipulation. I ended the relationship at the ninth month when after repeat conversations about his behaviour, nothing happened. Looking back I recognise so many narcissistic qualities which I ignored at the time.
If you are in any way feeling under-valued, gaslit, are questioning your perception of events, get out. Even if it intermittently still feels good; in a lot of cases that's a facade and you're being duped. Get a haircut, change your style, cut out that negativity.
I miss the relationship very much. He was a great light in my life - until he wasn't. I will treasure his love-bombing phase as it supported me very much while I was scared and recovering from a major health scare. But this is not a partner for life. Narcissists are the opposite of consistent. Remember, if the breakup offers instant relief - that was probably a good choice.

Thank you to those who have engaged in various discussions over the past few weeks about the presence/behavior of cis men in this sub. Based on your input, we've made the following changes - please see further down this post for a discussion of each change and how it'll improve this sub (TLDR is below, longer explanation is under that).
TLDR OF THE CHANGES:

1. We are changing the "Women and NB only" flair to say "Not seeking cis male perspectives" as to be more inclusive to our trans male sub members, who we value and are of course welcome here. We are adding a rule called "Be mindful of perspective" to clarify the purpose of this flair, and anyone found violating this rule will have their comment deleted and the user will be muted from the sub for a month. We have set up the automod to add a pinned comment to the top of any post/thread with the "Not seeking cis male perspectives" flair to explain the rule and the consequences for breaking it. Posts without this flair won't have the automod comment.
2. This sub will no longer appear on all, popular, or other high-traffic aggregation pages. It will, however, still be suggested to people following similar subs (climbing, for example) but we are open to changing that if needed and have the sub no longer be recommended to people following similar subs.
3. Anyone who tries to post/comment in this sub after having been banned from another sub will automatically have their comment held for moderation.
4. We have not done this yet, but if needed, will set up the "crowd control" filter such that if anyone with negative karma in this sub or no post history in this sub tries to comment/post, it'll be held for moderation.

RATIONALE BEHIND THE CHANGES:
This sub was created by and for people who are specifically seeking perspectives other than the ones we encounter most likely in climbing (both online and offline). As the sub has gotten bigger and more "discoverable", many more cis males have been participating in conversations. Some cis male contributors approach from a place of respectful curiosity, seeking to understand the perspectives of the women in their lives. Others, however, have decided to use this space to unload their grievances about gender dynamics, inclusion, beta-spraying, sexual assault, dating/relationships, etc in a way that is not only unproductive, but also harmful to members of our community. This is unacceptable and cannot continue.
The extreme step would be to make our sub entirely private, requiring users to be verified (which is something other subs on Reddit do when faced with similar issues). However, this step comes with its own set of disadvantages. We want to ensure the people for whom this sub was created are still able to find it. Also, we as a mod team work full-time and don't have unlimited time/energy to do all the things necessary to make a sub private and require verification. This step is not completely off the table but we're holding off on it for now.
We recognize there's diversity within our community: some users absolutely do not for any reason want cis male perspectives in the comments of their posts. Others are open to it, as long as commenters are respectful/coming from a place of learning. The "Not seeking cis male perspectives" flair is thus optional. We will follow the lead of OPs and moderate strictly when OPs do choose to use this flair. We also think decreasing the number of non-climber cis males this page is suggested to will decrease the brigading, harassment, commenting from people who have never read the rules & don't care at all about our sub, and other antisocial behavior.
We hope the changes above will result in a material, concrete decrease in the number of inappropriate comments from cis men and an increased feeling of safety, warmth, and community for everyone else. We value this space and appreciate all who work to make it a positive one. Please send us modmail anytime with suggestions or feedback.

I am new to this mbti and enneagram stuff, but I did look into cognitive functions a bit but I still am not sure which fit me, it might be because I am still pretty new. This is mostly a hobby for when I am bored and want to think, because I like to play with outside systems like this.
• How old are you? What's your gender? Give us a general description of yourself.
I am 16 years old, male , just your average quiet teenager that sucks at introspecting and wants to look cool to others yet does nothing to impress others (other than looks)
that sounded oddly specific.,.....
whatever
• Is there a medical diagnosis that may impact your mental stability somehow?
not really, not that I know of..
• Describe your upbringing. Did it have any kind of religious or structured influence? How did you respond to it?
I grew up in a poor family (duh), then just like your average adult couple they divorce, usually I'd stay a lot with my mother and she would teach me about morals which I now see some as stupid but either way I kind of "took" her morals and my dad's too. Kind of had to grew up early and take care of my smaller brother by substituting being a dad , and I have a lot of influence over my brother , and we would switch places a lot but the only comfort I had was in games, interacting with others on the games ,making fun of others and overall having a good time being accepted
• What do you do as a job or as a career (if you have one)? Do you like it? Why or why not?
At the moment I have no job, I do karate and I could teach others but I don't have the stuff necessary like: a place to train others, I am not at the highest level yet, customers and this is mostly the main things.
But I would really like to continue on this path of gym and karate since I already have an edge and kind of be under someone's wing to help me
• If you had to spend an entire weekend by yourself, how would you feel? Would you feel lonely or refreshed?
Mostly depends, on my mood sometimes I despise being alone and feel miserable being alone with my thoughts(and is mostly why I spend a lot of time on my computer despite not wanting to do so) or if the people in my circle kind of make me have a bad time then I would want to withdraw and get my energy back , usually I am very loud after I get comfortable with the other person and know what they are capable of
• What kinds of activities do you prefer? Do you like, and are you good at sports? Do you enjoy any other outdoor or indoor activities?
Like I said above I do Karate , I recently reached the brown belt ( YIPPPIE me) and me and the outdoors have a bad history but as of now I prefer to have a balance of both but mostly I would like to focus on real life things, especially when it comes to careers
• How curious are you? Do you have more ideas then you can execute? What are your curiosities about? What are your ideas about - is it environmental or conceptual, and can you please elaborate?
I am not too curious of stuff that is deep , it makes me feel miserable, but usually I get random questions sometimes and it makes me search , but not too deep into it just enough to have the idea cause I see no point in diving deeper. Usually when I even get these questions is from either talking out loud or just looking around me so it's mostly environmental (I think not too sure of this)
• Would you enjoy taking on a leadership position? Do you think you would be good at it? What would your leadership style be?
The only time I like leading is when I have knowledge and know I am the best to do it, if someone else is better then I'll let them do their thing but usually I wouldn't fully obey them I would kind of give some counter-arguments if there is room for some.
Even when I lead, others do listen to me and usually I am confident in doing it, kind of like that one quote of Sun Tzu:" Go to war only if you know you will win" , which my friend told me recently.
As for the style not too sure what it would really reference, but I would say I think of people as cogs in the machine
• Are you coordinated? Why do you feel as if you are or are not? Do you enjoy working with your hands in some form? Describe your activity?
Not too sure what to say on the "coordination" part but I for sure love working with my hands, especially when I cook for myself or others, and like I already mentioned I do karate so of course I like practicing with my hands improving my technique
• Are you artistic? If yes, describe your art? If you are not particular artistic but can appreciate art please likewise describe what forums of art you enjoy. Please explain your answer.
no I am not artistic at all , I don't really look into it at all since I don't consider it worthwhile but as a kid I did like drawing cause I was good at it and I got recognition for my drawings from other classmates and that would fuel me to make me like drawing cause the teacher liked it, others too and yeah.. Untill it kind of stopped receving the feedback and such
• What's your opinion about the past, present, and future? How do you deal with them?
I don't like to think of the past too much , especially when I think of myself, it's mostly negative things but I try to see the bright side of what I've achieved and such, because I wasn't healthy (even now I feel like I am not healthy but it's clearly better), I used to be chubby kind of fat , and before getting into karate I did handball where we trained physical condition and other things , and we had to do sit ups but due to me being fat I couldn't and others looked at me and started joking even the trainer and because of that I quit..
The present could be good but I am indifferent towards it I don't really work towards anything specific I like to remain a little reactive and eventually get help from others into shaping my future life.
And like I said I try to remain reactive of the present, I don't like planning too far ahead because it could be too early to plan and there might be more to do
• How do you act when others request your help to do something (anything)? If you would decide to help them, why would you do so?
I don't get asked for help frequently but it's either I help the person because I see they are struggling or they asked me and it goes two ways: 1. I agree and do the job or 2. I tell them "no" and go back to what I was doing (eventually feeling guilty I didn't help but I don't like being used for other's advantage)
• Do you need logical consistency in your life?
Yeah , it's pretty important people shouldn't only run on feelings but kind of fit some systems into some kind of framework, not really think about it 24/7, but make sense of it that is how I like to do it.
Even with this system of cognitive functions I try to understand it but sometimes it's a bit too abstract, I prefer more practical examples to fully understand the idea behind it
• How important is efficiency and productivity to you?
Not too much but not too less, usually I prefer it to not be feeling sad that I am "closed off somewhere" and not doing something, isolated from the world , especially with no computer atleast to go on the internet and joke around and chill with others(but of on a common task or else I will mind my business).
But I strive to be efficient in what I do over time , even if it's for a game that is pointless
• Do you control others, even if indirectly? How and why do you do that?
Simply no, I never was able to do this exactly , well maybe after I get to know the person a bit and see what they could do.... but I am not.
Also just read what controlling others mean , and I could see myself taking charge and just doing everything myself....
But I still feel like I don't, but I can see how I could, but I won't because I don't have the skill and it wouldn't be good
• What are your hobbies? Why do you like them?
Well probably just ,out of boredoom, playing games but not a wide variety which gets boring quick but familiarity bias is a thing.. and doing karate which energizes me almost everytime and anytime even if I don't feel like it and force myself. I just like when it goes well with others it and being liked by others, energizes me
• What is your learning style? What kind of learning environments do you struggle with most? Why do you like/struggle with these learning styles? Do you prefer classes involving memorization, logic, creativity, or your physical senses?
To be honest I didn't really pay attention to how I learn I just learn to get good grades in school and make it, yeah not too much here but I struggle with things that don't really add up to me or I don't see the logic behind
Usually I don't need explanations from the teacher I kind of tend to see the logic behind everything mostly without asking much information since some subjects have systems that are easily to juggle with(like math but I sometimes struggle with calculating in my head)
• How good are you at strategizing? Do you easily break up projects into manageable tasks? Or do you have a tendency to wing projects and improvise as you go?
I try to simplify strategizing, yes having a plan in depth is good but people for sure won't like if you are gonna stick to one rigid plan , which is why you have to make it kind of like a team thing even if I do make a rigid plan I try to make it sound simple and to the point based of data that others and I know, even making decision off the data my group knows
• What are your aspirations in life, professionally and personally?
Probably to feel happy I achieved something and doing something in the outside world, eventually influencing others
• What are your fears? What makes you uncomfortable? What do you hate? Why?
Mostly personal stuff , and emotional situations, my emotional inteligence is bad and I am bad at emotions too, atleast handling the emotions of others, but sometimes I try to let them vent to me and help them a bit and try to be empathetic even tho I don't show it too much, mostly I show it through acting tho
• What do the "highs" in your life look like?
Positive outlook on life, relationships are well but I don't worry about them too much unless there is an obvious problem and really liking to hang around others, and especially having something going on for myself
• What do the "lows" in your life look like?
the first thing that comes to my mind is: withrdawn, melancholy and just starting to critique everyone in my head but not really telling them, yeah sometimes I may start bluntly joking about other's and stuff and even situtations, I try to poke fun and when it kind of fails I feel like withdrawing from others since it doesn't work Melancholy litteraly makes me feel miserable about everything, mostly makes me feel depressed. I do tend to feel it often but I try to supress it trough doing things, like playing on the computer , youtube and such (everyone does this to some extent)
• How attached are you to reality? Do you daydream often, or do you pay attention to what's around you? If you do daydream, are you aware of your surroundings while you do so?
I find myself daydreaming when bored and not really anything is going on but I do tend to be mindful of what others do in case they try to harm me...
But even if I daydream it's mostly about what everything could have been, kind of like what I could have done or what I could do and how it would end up/ ended up, but it does happen quite a lot
• Imagine you are alone in a blank, empty room. There is nothing for you to do and no one to talk to. What do you think about?
Not too sure if I would ever get there but thinking out loud here so , probably about some random stuff in my head unrelated to my situations untill one thought hits close to home and I go into some deeper stuff , and usually when I get deeper into things I tend to feel miserable, my friend (who is INTJ btw) said that my negative depressing thoughts that I hate match the thinking of the philosophy of "Nihilism" which is kind of true....
• How long do you take to make an important decision? And do you change your mind once you've made it?
I try and not stay too long on it but sometimes I might run back and forth if I am not too sure, but I try to stay decisive , because being indecisive a lot is bad..
• How long do you take to process your emotions? How important are emotions in your life?
I kind of look down on emotions , yes I feel them but I just tend to ignore and repress them sometimes, but I vent to closer friends from time to time, but this is mostly because my parents would misinterpret my emotions...
My mom would just over moralify everything and bring it to a stupid extreme which is unrelated..
and My dad would just make fun of them , but sometimes he would give me spot on answers which are exactly what I need
• Do you ever catch yourself agreeing with others just to appease them and keep the conversation going? How often? Why?
Not really , even if I do it's in a way to shut off the conversation, because I don't like having conversation with no point
• Do you break rules often? Do you think authority should be challenged, or that they know better? If you do break rules, why?
I don't really mind rules , but I don't pay attention to them too much(because no need to worry if you don't go out of your way to try something that could count as "breaking the rules") mostly to the general ones which could punish you very harshly but overtime they could be exploited and I do that when I am confident I won't be caught or it won't punish me
I also took the mbti test from Michael Caloz site (I saw people doing this one a lot so I figured I might give it a try for this post :D)
statistics of functions
the top result (followed by ESTP and then ESTJ, in that order)
I saw other posts also mentioning this, and I figured I would too
I took this test a bit rushed cause I needed to do something..

I have a problem where I treat social interactions as very transactional, something that I need to speed through and get to the end of.
I think this is because I've waited tables for a long time in my life, and some part of my brain considers conversation to be part of work which is a means to an end to get finished as quickly as possible. I don't think this is a positive thing.
I'm rushing through everything all the time. Tasks, forms, reading things. I miss details often. Earlier today I was rushing to save a card in my digital wallet and accidentally set it up as autopay for a bunch of things that it's not supposed to be. Because I was rushing, because I hit the save button before I really read it.
At the end of the night, I find myself laying in bed reflecting on my day and thinking about how I did not give a lot of thought or attention to anything I was doing because I was worried about the thing that I was about to start doing, what was coming next.
I never feel like I'm living in the present. I want to develop that skill. I want to slow down and Be Here Now. I want to be present and engaged in my conversations instead of just trying to get them over with.
But I lack patience and I'm super busy. How do I start learning this skill? Thanks to everybody who made it this far.
TLDR modern life in my country has crammed so much work\duty\tasks into my life in order for me just to get by that I don't feel like I have time to even breathe or read or have a conversation without rushing to the next task and it makes me feel like an asshole. I want to unlearn this.

I can forgive my mom for almost everything. She was a single, immigrant mom struggling with undiagnosed adhd and social anxiety and burnout from it. I can forgive her the emotional neglect, leaving me to fend for myself for dinners (we always had food, but we never had family dinners and I’d usually heat up my own since age 9/10), not participating in the pta, disciplining me the best she knew how even though it wasn’t effective, not looking at my homework or even asking anything except for report cards.
I can forgive everything and understand everything except for her not showing up for me when I needed her to. She didn’t go to most of my dance events. She didn’t go to take pictures of me before prom, even though I told her all the other parents would be going and I all but begged her to go. She didn’t show up for contests or performances or most games.
Now, as a mom, I recognize my own privileges and challenges. I have more advantages than she did and more knowledge and resources, too.
I also have her social anxiety and awkwardness. And I have her adhd.
But I have never seen a school or other event or play date or even birthday party that I wanted to skip. I want to see my children everywhere. I want to see their faces when they see me, proud, looking at them. I want them to see me looking at them playing on the playground. I want to bring flowers to their performances and show up for them.
Even now, I can’t understand why she doesn’t want to visit her grandchildren more. I know it’s difficult for her socially, but she hasn’t visited in over two years. We visit her a few times a year and she doesn’t even join us for all of the things we do when we’re there.
I can understand and forgive almost everything. I can imagine being a similar parent to the one she was if I was under her same constraints. But I cannot for the life of me imagine not wanting to participate in my children’s lives and consistently letting them go through major events without seeing a proud parent watching them, especially if I knew other kids had their parents there. The idea of me missing anything and one of my kids looking out into an audience or bleachers with only their friends’ parents there is appalling to me.
To be honest, I don’t remember being too upset about it as a kid. We weren’t super bonded, and I knew she was busy and worked late (she was a nurse), so she was tired often. I am just so embarrassed and ashamed on her behalf. And I am so horrified at the image of doing something like that to either of my kids.

As If It Were Kismet: Prologue
Matt tore through the brush, blind in the dark. He didn’t care where he was going. He only knew he needed to be elsewhere. Far from here.
Behind him a creature howled that shocked his mind. It’s form was cruel and dangerous, though female. Nothing like the young woman she had once been. Nothing but a girl, a small and slight female.
It’s guttural growls and howls only grew closer as Matt tried to pick between seeing where he was going and getting away. The few times he looked he caught sight of the creature behind him. Hopping through the air with a speed that told him he was being toyed with. As if he were a mouse being played with by a cat.
But the reflex in him to run kept him going. His adrenaline going as hard as it could. The tightness and burning in his core tensing and locking up as his legs felt like there were being burned from within while taking on more of a heaviness.
His lungs were starting to betray him as he tried to gulp big breaths of air but only rapid and shallow breaths were all that he could manage. His brain was starting to burn….and then he was falling.
Falling down the side of a hill he saw the creature dart in a spring towards him, imperceivably fast almost. Catching him in mid air it seemed.
Managing to wrap its body around him and cushion his impact against the ground as they rolled. His mind barely took in what was happening during the roll. Only starting to understand what was happening once they were still.
The creature's triple D-cup breasts were unmistakably pressed hard against his back as he laid facing up at the night sky.
For a few seconds the world stilled and the needle light pain hitting the center of his brain took over for the cooking heat his brain had felt. His whole body felt heavy and reluctant to move.
Even if he could have really moved, a dull ache came over his limbs making them feel stilled and trapped as if by immeasurable amounts of sand that had engulfed him.
Slowly the arms holding him started to move. Moving so the creature's hands could start exploring him. Causing Matt to unstoppably let out a pathetic moan that made him go cold inside as hands lifted up his shirt and started to touch his exposed stomach and then his chest.
He would have whimpered so pathetically had he not still been in the depths of terror.
As its hands felt and groped his pecs he tried to situp as if to get away. For his efforts, his reward was a hand around his throat and a collection snarls and growls against his ear. A beastly, guttural voice spat words at him while somehow holding a feminine tone.
“Don’t move….I don’t know if I can calm down…”
Her words were not helped by her moans in his ear and the subsequent kissing of his ear. The flesh of his ear going between her lips as she moaned and seemed to pant. Releasing it and licking the side of his face with a moist warmth. He could feel its spittle, viscous and coating his flesh where the tongue touched. He could smell something in his saliva. Something that subtly entranced him.
Matt went stock still with fear and the confusion of mixed arousal. He barely perceived her right hand traveling lower on his body. A surprised moan and shudder echoed in the night from Matt’s lips as she took ahold of him. Her hand above his pants but still….stimulating him.
A light squeezing and almost probing of her digits kept him aroused and confused within her grasp. Resigning himself to the strange fate, Matt looked up at the stars as his mind tried not to shatter under the strange maelstrom of events and sensation that had started mere minutes ago.
His mind was only more confused as a slight figure, feminine in build, how it seemed to thunk the ground audibly as she landed on her feet out nowhere. Her knees barely bending under the pressure of the landing. Yet dirt was kicked up anyways and some of it onto Matt. Feeling it pepper his shirt and pants as it fell.
The figure, lit only faintly by moonlight, roared some dark tone Matt could only perceive as a demon as her eyes went bright with a crimson light. A light in the darkness that should not have been. “Let him go you bitch.” Was its words following the roar. Spittle escaping its mouth with faint droplets hit Matt's face.
The creature holding him by his throat and crotch seemed to tighten the grasp of both hands as it roared back. “HE IS MINE!”
The figure paused with a moment's hesitation. He was also her quarry. She had felt his fear without him knowing. His confused arousal. His fear. His terror.
And now he laid at the center of a struggle between two monsters. Unsure of who he wanted to win.
As If It Was Kismet Ch. 1
Matthew Berkshire hadn’t seen his mom in two years. Not that he had seen her much over the last six years.
A messy divorce between messy people and mom’s chaotic want for a life in Alaska had been one of the most…upsetting times in life. Setting him up for so much of what had defined his life thus far but then that had really started two years before he ever turned.
His ear buds were basic and simple. A part of cheap five pack, common for his life as he was known to lose little things. Small things. They had a mix of metal and hard rock playing in them. Some classics, some alternative. Whatever made him feel something, anything. Even if it was hate. Anger. Rage. It was better than feeling numb. Not belonging.
The escalator down to his lone bag to go with his lone carry on showed his mom waiting for him. His had a type, that’s for damn sure. Not that it helped him in the genetics department as he was stuck at 5’9” to go along with his mother’s five foot even as his dad stood six foot. Forever leaving him to feel small, to pale, under his dad’s shadow. Did he ever stand a chance?
The guy next to her with the unkempt former seventies porn stache was “Dave.” He’d met him twice when his mother came and visited him in Florida. To his credit the guy didn’t look annoyed. Kind of concerned kind of which made Matthew want to break his frozen look but he was well practiced. Having removed any note of sadness from his face through much…tribulation.
His mother’s look on her face betrayed a hint of worry as the bruises on his face lightly showed up close. Saying his name was his like a distant echo that belonged to someone else.
Dave cut in and pulled out his right headphone. “What the hell bud, they knock you hard enough to hurt hearing? Your mom’s asking how you are doing.”
Matthew pulled out the other bud and grunted an empty “sorry.”
“You still have bruises after two week? What did they do to you?” His mom’s voice was full of worry. Something he hadn’t heard in….too long. Too long to make him feel anything. To ever make him believe there was any sincerity to her words. To not think her voice and mannerisms were an act. An act by someone who…wasn’t really there.
“It’s only fair. I took a nose. Fractured a couple orbital bones. Left one with having to get his jaw wired shut. And one will never walk right again for what I did to his knee cap.” Matthew said it all with a bored and disinterested tone. Perhaps well rehearsed.
“My man, handing out ass kickings, not bothering to take names.” Dave was quick to be the typical man’s man about it. Matthew wasn’t quite done yet. Lifting up his shirt to expose the right side near his kidney. Revealing a nasty scar from a six inch blade. “Luckily they gave me this first so they could rule it all in self-defense. The fuck didn’t get it in more than inch before I ruined his knee cap and then I took the nose of one of the fucks holding me.” Now he chose to smile keeping the well practiced dead look in his eyes.
No retorts. No questions. Just horrified looks on their faces. As he liked. As he preferred. They could hate him. They could be disgusted by him. But by God they would fear him.
“Well the doc did a good job sewing you up.” Dave commented uncomfortably. “Dissolving sutures. Ain’t they grand.” He smiled again and let it abruptly fall off his face and started walking to the carousel for the baggage claim.
Waiting and making small talk with Dave as his mother stood in silence. He was not the little boy she abandoned. The little boy she left with an angry man. While never hitting him. Left him in constant fear till he turned twelve and just didn’t care anymore. Something snapped. Broke. And he didn’t care if he died. Didn’t care if he stole. Didn’t even care if he killed. He just knew not to get caught. Something left over from his grandfather’s wisdom which came to make more and more sense with each passing year of life since that thing inside him broke.
Finally his bag came around and Dave went to try first to grab it but Dave practically leapt ahead of him. “Is that your grandfather’s rucksack bag?” his mother asked in a perplexed voice.
“Figured it’s been around since Viet Nam. So it’d serve me better than any of the worthless stuff they called luggage.” Dave commented after Matthew’s words. “Well hell yeah I still got mine from Desert Storm. You know the first one.” Dave laughed and Matthew eyed him oddly. Be it in the south or whether it was Alaska, country boys are country boys he guessed.
The car ride to the two people’s house, as Matthew thought of them. Was uneventful and full of vistas he imagined metropolitan types wetting themselves over. At most they meant isolation to him. Furtherness from the world as there were no mountains in Florida. And what mountains he had last seen in another state had been when he was eight. Another life, to Matthew it felt like. A life alien to him.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 2
Dave and his mom’s place was some two story type tucked into a tree line far up an elevated point. It was by no means the highest point in the mountain but it certainly felt up there.
Rocks were where the driveway should have been Matthew thought. Grabbing his backpack and rucksack from Dave’s jeep was no hard thing for him. Matthew was in formidable shape for someone his age, maybe even five years older. He had gotten a mix of fairly big shoulders and arms along with the chest to go for it when compared to most kids his age. A side effect of working out at least twice a day. First thing in the morning, some time in the evening, and the school’s gym when had had a good semester in school before he had to leave Florida.
Dave tried to come up and help him but Matthew walked past him towards the house. His mom was not sure what to make of his demeanor. Matthew was not the sweet kind boy he had once been. But she had been gone from his life essentially for a long time.
Ushering him into the house she cracked some joke he did not hear. He was too busy looking about and seeing a mix of old outdated decorating mixed with the strange and odd flair of his mother. Color contrasting against drab and dated. Like brightly painting over an old home that was falling apart he thought.
“Your room is this way Mattie.” His mom brightly intoned.
Without expressing any interest he followed his mother. Still faced and nonplussed. Just going along with the current. Pushed and pulled with its roll like a piece of driftwood.
The room was simple. A single small bed. A set of rubber weights with a curl bar and barbells. “Your dad said you were into weight lifting so we got you a bunch of stuff. Dave says it looks like his department’s gym almost. The woman’s smile felt very alien to him.
“Thank you. I appreciate it. I’ve got most of my stuff from home.” Matthew starting unpacking his rucksack and pulled out cables of repetitive and mixed colors. A single plastic barbell handle. The ruck sack could be filled with water bottles for added weight during pushups he figured. Remembering a Michael Keaton movie he watched with his dad post-Batman movies where he played a convicted killer using plastic bags filled with water for weights.
Matthew caught movement outside his lone fairly large window that could let him step out onto the roof of the house given its layout.
He saw a number of people running together through what he guessed was the backyard of the property, not that it had any fences to mark boundaries
They wore clothes that looked similar yet different from each other at the same time.”Oh those are the Johnston’s. Really nice bunch of people. Been on the mountain for a long time Dave tells me.”
Matthew looked at the group of people running and noticed the lack of resemblance. “They are related?” Matthew quizzically asked. Seeing a black and possibly a hispanic person amongst the bland looking white people.
“Oh well they are all adopted but for one or two of them…besides the parents of course. The family has a long tradition of taking in orphans they say. Real nice of them to do that don’t you think.”
Matthew looked at his mother and the hosier accent made no sense to him as he arched his left eye brow. Her and his dad were both from Florida. Born and raised. Sure her parents were from New York city but…
Matthew shook his lightly without turning to look at his mother as his vision was grabbed by one of the runners in particular. A girl of moderate height. Soft brunette. A plain beauty he figured with a slim build….and lack of remarkable breasts and rear to make any note of but….girls in general were his type at his age.
She was pretty enough. He couldn’t deny that but he found himself transfixed by her visage.
But the way she turned and looked at him, especially at that distance felt very disconcerting to him. Even if she was smiling like…she was a taste of a bright shiny day. Somehow.
Matthew’s mom noticed the exchange and smiled to herself with closed lips. “Oh that’s Vicky. She’s your age I think. Very sweet girl, who does the charity functions. You know bake sales, blood drives, car washes and the like. I think you should get to know her. Might be good for you.”
A truck horn sounded a couple of beeps in rather succession. “Oh that must be Mack, he said he might come by later this evening but he seems early.”
Matthew’s mother turned and left his room. Leaving Matthew to exchange a few looks with the alluring Vicky as she turned her head away from him to talk to the others in her group and look back at him.
Still Matthew’s left eyebrow was arched. In a way that reminded him of Spock from Star Trek that he and his grandpa used to watch on some streaming service or another.
As he heard ambient chatter elsewhere outside the house he figured to check it out as the alluring sight of Vicky would be around he figured. It was dull to stare at artwork. He was a boy who preferred jet skis and the like. Something he could ride and enjoy immensely. Even if at times it got him stabbed.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 3
Matthew sauntered out of the house and down the rockway that stood in for a driveway.
A few new people had come over from what he could first surmise of the situation. As he got closer it was obvious they were indigenous people. A couple of grown men…and a girl?
She was mousey. Maybe five foot. Hiding behind glasses and a big camo jacket that was far too big for her. It looked made for a grown man and the backwards trucker hat on her head kept her long black a beautiful mess of sorts.
She was cute in a way. A little androgynous but she had a cute energy to her. She reminded him of the more tomboyish Puerto Rican girls he had gotten into back in Florida. Given the deer corpses in the back of the truck….probably more dangerous to play with given the men in her family.
Small chatter passed between the adults when the girl noticed but turned away, trying to hide the tiny hint of a smile.
“Oh Mattie, this is Mack. He works with Dave at the sheriff’s department and John, he’s with fish and wildlife.” Matthew nodded at his mom’s words with some blankness as he looked at the deer the in the back of the pickup truck.
“Gale tells us you hunted with your dad some in Florida and Georgia.” Mack offered with a light hearted laugh camouflaged by his big simple and cheery but husky way he spoke.
Looking in the back of the truck he spoke. “We used lever action thirty-thirties and Mosin Nagants in seven-six-two-fifty-four-rimmed.” Mack and John whistled in an exaggerated fashion. Leaving Matthew to wonder if they were mocking him.
Mack spoke. “Well we just used thirty-odd-six in a custom gussied Garand.” That caught Matthew’s attention. “You have a Garand…” Matthew finally demonstrated interest in anything. “My dad has an SVT-40 and a Hakim 8mm but he always wanted a Garand but was too cheap to buy one.”
Gale, his mother, chimed in loudly. “Oh his Dad loved his guns but was such an odd duck about how he bought or why he bought them. Never made sense to me how he wasn’t a collector but he didn’t get the latest and greatest.” Gale laughed uncomfortably. At least it seemed that way to Matthew.
Matthew pointed to the girl with an underhanded pointing hand. “And who is this? A cute little mute mouse or does she have a name?” Dave and the other men laughed.
Mack again spoke. “Well you people call her Rebecca, she’s my adopted daughter.” Matthew was taken aback by what he heard. “You people?”
Rebecca kindly spoke with a soft but almost melodic voice as she struggled to maintain eye contact. “White people or rather not members of our tribe. It’s just easier to appease the colonizer kind of thing. Borrowed from when the Jesuit missionaries chased us up here.”
Mack stepped in. “It’s just easier to have white people names than have them try to say our tribal names. And we don’t want them shortening or Anglicising our names kind of thing.” Rebecca stepped back into the conversation cutting off her adopted father. “It’s an insult to our history basically.”
Matthew cocked his head sideways raising his eyebrows shortly before letting them drop. “Well as soon as I’m eighteen I’m out of here and back to Florida so I’m a sort of involuntary colonizer of sorts. So I won’t be taking any of your land from you. The Seminoles on the other hand are still shit out of luck.”
Rebecca’s smile caused Matthew to reflexively smile. Mack made the moment more awkward. “See Becca, I told you someone off the reservation would like you some. You just have to be creative.” Mack laughed in a chiding manner…Matthew presumed. He sensed that he was the butt of some kind of cultural joke. Like marrying a white guy was some sort of insult or mark of shame. That kind of thing.
Rebecca turning away from him was not something he had been expecting. Her then getting in the truck in a huff left the group in a silence for a moment.
Dave spoke to break the awkward silence. “Well just bring the truck to work on Monday and leave it for me to grab up.” Mack acknowledged Dave and they started to get off as Rebecca looked at Matthew for another instance. Matthew couldn’t look away for some reason as the two seemed to lock eyes for an instance.
Till Vicky and family seemed to come jogging down the road. While Matthew’s eyes diverted from Rebecca’s. Hers did not till she realized he was looking elsewhere. And her vision found Vicky and what had been a hint of smile on her face turned glum and disappointed.
Matthew did not look away from the vision of Vicky but instead of a starry eyed fool looking longingly. It was a baffled look. Well baffled for him, with his eyes drawn narrow and night with a focus.
There was something about her…he couldn’t quite put a name too. The way she appeared to him. One second brunette. The next second blonde or blonde like. As if the color appeared in her air and disappeared in fractions of seconds. Much the same way her body almost seemed to…shift…very subtly…smoothly. A nicer bum. Larger breasts. And then back to a simple and plain form. Feminine no doubt. Attractive. But not so…remarkable.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 4
The next two days passed without incident. Nothing of any real substance or challenge to note.
Matthew got settled somewhat and started working out almost immediately. Exploring around the woods but Dave told him not to go far. Especially without a hunting rifle. Dave had left a simple semi-auto Winchester out for him. His bear gun as Dave referred to it with its four round magazine. But Matt figured till he got some practice with the rifle to leave it alone. He made a hiking stick like his grandpa taught him and treated it over a low fire. He would take some electrical tape for the end his hand would grip around. Plenty enough to ward off anything smaller than a bear he figured.
The ride to school was a pain in the neck but simple enough. Dave would let him use a clunker pickup truck he had laying around. It wasn’t pretty but it would get him to and from. Even if it was from the eighties and still backfired on occasion. But for now Dave and his mom took him on their way to the sheriff’s department.
It wasn’t much of a school. It wanted to be modern but its fifties original construction was very obvious. It serviced the pipeline families and familys’ of fisherman who worked the seasons in between their time at the pipeline.
Matt was to report to the principal for some reason Dave and his mom wouldn’t share. Which annoyed him but he figured it was to read him the law of land. Small towns with their big views of the outside world and like.
Dressed in jeans, a grey sweatshirt under a light jacket with steel toed boots set him more apart then he expected. His buzzed head didn’t help matters. Already he was feeling like a stranger in a strange land but he was quite strange after all. And he liked it that way. Normal people were so pathetically disappointing to him.
A secretary or assistant or some such led him to the principal’s office. Where it reeked of real wood that was old and fabric and upholstery that needed to be updated for the last twenty years, Matt figured.
“This is Matthew Berkshire, Principal Andrews.” The man was turned with his back to the door and he was quick to wave her off as he turned her around.
He was an older man. Fat and large. Tall with a body built like he had once been fit and a demeanour of annoyed and irate already as he fixed Matt with a scowl and look of disgust. Another worthless government whore. Matt thought to himself. His father and his grandfather had bestowed unto him a natural disrespect for government workers and the figures that wore unjustified authority as a shield but pretended the weight of the state was not at their back ready to crush all who resisted. Little figures of valor pretending to be mighty and alone but acting with the tyranny of the state and all the backing.
“Mr. Berkshire, please sit down.” His tone wasn’t unusually hostile, just gruff. As if he had better things to do.
Matt complied and took a seat in the chair while maintaining a friendly facade. Not everyone was an enemy. And not everyone needed to be an enemy. Even if anybody could be any enemy. There was no reason to make enemies you didn’t have to. Another of his grandfather’s bastardised wisdoms.
“Well I looked over you file and you have quite the history Mr. Berkshire.” Matt resisted qiuping back a joke. Instead he waited for Principal Andrews to continue as he remained nonplussed and looking as if he felt no need to respond. A simple head tilt with dead eyes looking back at the principle as if he was not even there would suffice.
Matt’s reaction or lack of a reaction rather made Principal Andrews only narrow his eyes with examination. He was not used to a kid not responding to him. Especially with his gruff and hard act going on.
“Well by all accounts you moved here after some problems at your last school. A fight broke out and you did some real harm to your fellow students it appears.” Of course, he would take the side of the perpetrators. School administrators always did. Especially when they weren’t white. Just a fact of the times. Cowardice and pathetic mediocrity was the way they leaned, like good government workers sucking the dick of Big Daddy government. Worthless whores.
Matt chose to reply. “Oh you mean the criminals that stabbed me. Got arrested at the hospital and then pled to felonies. Yeah Florida, with the American counties are good like that.” Principal Andrews went real still. No shame. No fear. No penitence. He didn’t like that.
“Well be it as it may Mr. Berkshire we don’t tolerate that kind of behaviour here…” Matt cut him off responding with a deadpan tone. “You mean self-defense meant to save one’s own life while the cowardly and pathetic school workers look on with zero interest but to keep their money rolling in and will allow known gang members with records of violent acts and crimes that should have them expelled many times over, where in certain Democrat counties such cowardice and idiocy empowered a couple school shooters?”
Principal Andrews looked at the Matt with a note of disgust. “Look here Mr. Berkshire, your beliefs matter not one bit here. This isn’t Florida. We don’t like our way of life being disrupted by outside agitators who have problems with authority.”
Matt did his best not to roll his eyes and let the older fat man drone own as he dead-stared him. Lifeless and without emotion.
The man came to a finish and Matt spoke up without having listened to him or paid him any attention. “Great now that’s taken care of. Can I please get to class and finish my sentence of two years at your wonderful school?”
Principal Andrews huffed and snorted before calling in Vicky. Vicky stood in the corner after entering with a quiet and seamless presence. Matt felt disturbed and tried not betray his feelings as the young Vicky was perceived and not perceived to be moving.
Principal Andrews made the introductions and Matt nodded back. She was to be his chaperone for the day. They had the same classes and she was to show him the ropes so to speak. The ins and outs of the school. The locations of their classes.
He recognized her. It was hard not to. The way her appearance seemed to shift fluidly almost. The petite and skinny brunette ever so lightly had a big bust and blonde hair with curves added when she seemed to shift before his eyes. Like watching a film but each frame had a different person.
Matt didn’t say anything about it. Even if he did he would only be acknowledging his crazed state, if he had one. If.
Unlike an obedient puppy dog he got up in a slow and awkward fashion and followed behind her as his oddly disproportionate frame allowed. Causing her a note of concern for some reason. As if she was seeing something she shouldn’t have been….Or he was just weird. And Matt could admit to himself he was just weird. Part of his charm, he would jest about it at times. Not that he had many people to jest to now.
As If It Were Kismet Ch. 5
Following Vicky into the hall off to their first class was simple. She exchanged small talk and he slightly smiled as if to obviously suggest he was just being polite.
Inside his head, Matt was trying to figure out if he was having a psychotic break. The way Vicky looked kept changing and he looked at the other people around him and they stayed the same.
He was searching his mind as they were walking. And thus he wasn’t paying attention to where he was looking and so fell to his face forward over his feet seemingly out of nowhere.
A series of laughs erupted as it sunk in that he was obviously tripped. Like in prison this was a challenge to his superiority. If he let this pass he would be mocked and sneered at by this same group of boys. He wouldn’t walk to them like he was going to do nothing like a little bitch.
In a rage he turned and punched the stomach of the first face he saw. Some typical blonde haired wannabe jock. He knew from experience not to aim for the ribs. Instead he needed to aim for where he thought the belly button was.
Yells and screams blindly echoed around him as his after the punch he followed up his elbow of the opposite arm slamming into the face of the jock. Harder than a fist, the elbow struck the jock’s jaw and seemingly dropped him against a locker. Just in time to catch an errant and soft punch to the nose that sure enough hurt but did little to slow him down as his dad had taught him to fight through the pain. Blood and scars happened. They were a natural consequence of life to a man.
Taking the punch and falling further into his red state Matt headbutted the punch thrower before another guy arm bared his throat from behind. Which he managed to get his grip on the arm over a letterman jacked and jerk the unprepared boy to the side with him still latched on.
A few feet away from the lockers Matt knew his only chance was to jump and push off the lockers and knock the boy to the ground and so he did. He heard a thunk of the boy’s skull bouncing off the ground and he turned to pull out of the grapple.
The beatings he had taken from his father, the grapples, being choked unconscious. Had prepared him for fighting little bitches who didn’t know what a fight was. It wasn’t gay porn with rabbit punch fists flying.
Blood was running down his face and the pain started to hit him as the threats had been eliminated. Only then did he remember to breathe. Taking breathes as Vicky came up to him with tissues and took a hold of his nose.
“Owww owww owww what the fuck my nose could be broken.” He said to Vicky as she pulled his head up and back.
“It’s ok Carl. It’s done.” Matt tried to look to see who Vicky was talking to. It was a boy taller than his 5’9” by more than a small margin. The boy eyed him bored and annoyed before speaking. “What happened here?” An unoriginal line but one Matt couldn’t be a smart aleck about. “Well you see there was an outbreak of tripping and we all tripped over my dick. It happens.” Matt was about to laugh when Vicky seemed to pull up while still gripping his nose causing Matt no small amount of pain which he audibly evidenced.
Vicky spoke in a tone he wasn’t expecting. As if she was accustomed to issuing orders. “Keep Iris away from the hall till we sanitize the site. We have blood from at least three people contaminating the site. And have Jake bring me a spare jacket and shirt for this moron.”
Carl seemed to acknowledge her orders and seemed to blink away. Maybe the punch hit harder than he expected. He had no time to wonder as Vick took her hand away from his and pushed him against the lockers. With ease he had not been expecting from her form and stature.
Before he could respond Vicky licked his blood covered chin and then his lips and spoke to him. “Focus on me you little blood bag.” Her tone had an annoyed yet feminine sneer.
“Look into my eyes. Look at me. You belong to me. You are just another food source in a collection of food sources.” Her eyes were a beautiful hazel Matt thought. Almost green. Pretty like jewels in some old treasure collections. The eyes he could get lost in before kissing her. Finally Vicky was just a slight and petite brunette and he thought she was beautiful.
She would make a hell of a girlfriend. Some cute thing he could see laying on the beach in Florida on their sides laughing and smiling before trading light kisses while hands wandered innocently. Before his mind could drift further he felt her lips on his. It took him a second to mentally grasp the kiss but his arms were around her back as her hands were at his sides. His eyes reflexively closed as he saw hers close.
It was ineffable to Matt. Beyond words, what was happening. The kiss, the moments beforehand. The way his brain tickled with electricity and gentle warmth. He had never had a kiss like this and he had traded more than a few kisses with at least a few girls.
The kiss was like a warm bath with his consciousness slipping beneath the surface. Their lips only parted to try new angles and approaches as Matt struggled to take in breath. It was a moment he could have stayed trapped in for….he didn’t know. But a curt throat clearing by another girl pulled them out of the moment.
The girl was taller than Vicky. Blonde. With slight curves. Vicky addressed her bewildered and gobsmacked, and perhaps a bit embarrassed. “Tina?”

This is long so thanks to all who reads this. My boyfriend and I have been together for 10 years and we have had a ton of ups and downs. As I mentioned he is a school counselor, he has even had inappropriate relations with another teacher at one of the schools he worked at and that was a whole thing. So I’m very insecure bc he has a history of texting and flirting with other girls. So this school year he’s at a new school settling into his role. He’s a young handsome man and he tells me all the time how he can’t get students out of his office, and for some time I could understand bc it’s rare for black students to see a young black counselor especially having a similar disadvantaged upbringing as them. So here is where my problem started. All these girls would come to him and cry about their relationship issues (something I didn’t do in high school) and say they think their pregnant etc and all these teenage sob stories. So a pregnant student invited him to her baby shower and he was dead set on going because he supported her a lot and we had a VERY LONG conversation about OPTICS and how we never want things ever look a certain way. When I told a family member we were going to said students baby shower I was given the response “why? That’s weird.” So there’s the optics. So fast forward, I’m going through his phone and he texted a female student at 5:30 AM (we were at the gym together I was doing RDLs in front of him) “happy birthday 🎈🎊”. At 5:30??!! He said that the previous day she kept reminding him and her mom has cancer and he feels bad so that’s just when he remembered. So then the student texts later “wya with my chipotle” and he responds “driving back”. He said that he buys students lunch on their birthdays. I continue going through the phone and I see multiple students numbers saved male and female but I’m more concerned about the females asking “can you call me down 5th period”. For example.
Now I do not think he is a groomer bc these messages are largely about graduation dates and deadlines and he does not communicate with students after school hours BUT after we already had the conversation about optics and I’ve already voiced my insecurities he’s continued to show he has blurred boundaries. I don’t plan to stick around when the accusations come rolling in. When I confronted him I felt gaslit and when I said I was going to post the screenshot to social media he almost got physical because I’m putting his character and job in jeopardy but I believe other people would agree with me that his behavior is weird. TLDR

I have been dating my partner for about 2.5 years, living together for about 9 months. We've had some ups and downs- nothing breakup worthy- but we've both had some significantly tough times. Given some recent events in our life, I would like some advice as to whether or not I'm being realistic in terms of my expectations of him and our relationship.
My partner's Dad was hospitalized in January for a cardiac episode. He was released after 5 days and during the follow up appointments, it was discovered that he had colon cancer. He had surgery that removed the tumor in late April. During the surgery, they removed 26 lymph nodes and sent them out for testing. 1 of nodes came back positive for stage 3 cancer cells. The oncologist said his best course of action would be chemo to rule out any additional cancer cells that may exist before they become a bigger issue. He'll be starting chemo in early June. My partner is understandably negatively affected by this diagnosis. For context, his Mom survived breast cancer about 12 years ago, during which time my partner was her primary caregiver, but his best friend's father just died from cancer 3 weeks ago. The best friend's father went from totally fine, to diagnosis, to dead in less than a month. It was brutal. Partner's father is not in the best shape health wise, and quite frankly, my partner is anticipating a poor outcome from the chemo/cancer. I'm trying to be positive and supportive for the family, but it's taking its toll on all of them, as is to be anticipated.
As this whole thing has been happening, my partner has been going through it in terms of his mental health. He's struggled with depression and panic attacks for most of his adult life. He's been on an antidepressant for years. After his father was hospitalized in January, he was temporarily laid off from his job because of his poor work performance. The company basically told him they wouldn't let him return to work until he started therapy and got his shit together. He started seeing a therapist in February and started Adderall for his ADHD in March. It's been better in the sense that's he's more communicative with me, seems to be on a bit of a better schedule, etc. He started back to work on May 1st. Going back to work has been pretty good- he likes his new position and his schedule is much more consistent now, so that's good.
This entire time, I've been supporting our household financially as he completely drained his small emergency fund in less than 5 weeks. Financially, we are total opposites, and it stresses me out! I have 150K in savings/retirement, and he has only a couple grand saved and nothing in retirement. We've been talking about getting married, but in December (before this whole ordeal even started) we had a conversation where I ultimately told him marriage was off the table until he's financially in a better position, and he'd agreed to open retirement accounts and asked me to help him budget etc., but this was before the whole cancer- laid off- therapy thing even started. We haven't really discussed it much since.
Some of the other issues that we continue to have is that he's generally unable to remember to do any tasks unless I remind him incessantly (as in, tell him multiple times, text him, call him, etc.) Tasks would include: taking out the trash, putting away his vapes so the dog can't get to them, brushing his teeth, putting laundry in the basket, picking up his wet bath towels, etc.
The biggest one that bothers me is his lack of consistency after I go to bed. He's a night owl and stays up late, which is fine, but he'll (more often than not), pass out on the couch with the lights on, the TV on, the computer playing a video, food and drinks all over the living room, didn't brush his teeth, etc. I wake up naturally a lot throughout the night so then I either go get him from the living room, basically force him to brush his teeth and get in bed, and then have to deal with the mess/electronics myself at whatever ungodly hour it is OR just leave everything as is and go back to sleep. If I do that, I still have to deal with all of those things when I wake up at 5 am with the dog and get ready to go to work- she's a puppy who's excitable and it's so much easier on me if he's in the bedroom in the morning so she'll stay focused on me and I don't have to worry about her getting to his vapes, food, drinks, etc.
As a side note, the fact that his oral health is so poor is disgusting to me. I've already set a strong boundary that I will refuse to kiss or be intimate with him unless he's brushed his teeth at least once per day. He's a very touchy person that likes physical affection, so it's tough for him that I refuse to kiss him unless his teeth are brushed, but it's generally pretty effective in helping him to remember to brush them. At least, it was until January.
I want to be clear that our communication is pretty good, and all of the boundaries I have/expectations I've set are things we've talked about and agreed upon together. These are all areas in which he agreed and often he was the one to suggest that he needs to work on. I also didn't mention the areas I've agreed to work on within myself, but there are a few.
Given the things happening with his Dad, I feel like an asshole pushing him to be better with his finances, health, and chores, but I also don't think I can deal with these things NOT getting worked on for the next 8-12 months (the projected length of his Dad's treatment). So- what's the balance? How can I support him through this which pushing us to work on our relationship? Or, is it totally unrealistic to expect that right now? I know I want to have a conversation with him about our foreseeable future but I want to be realistic as to what I can/should ask of him. So- what do you think?
Edit: For context, my partner would like to be engaged by the end of the year. He'd been saving for a ring/wedding prior to getting laid off. I pushed pause on that plan because I was uncomfortable with his lack of financial stability and generally felt that he did not pull his weight of the household responsibilities. He agreed to work on these things before taking the next step. He still wants to propose this year, despite what's happened.