My son is almost 2.5. We started daycare back in March and at first he seemed to be flourishing when he finally had peers his age to play with. Last summer he was evaluated for speech and had a mild delay but we didn't qualify for speech therapy yet - they said just work with him & wait and see. 6 months later at his 2 year old check up, the pediatrician said they weren't concerned. now that we've been in daycare for a while, the center is now trying to get him in speech (thankfully!). but between all of us being constantly sick, it's been hard. and as time goes on, his behavior keeps getting worse. his meltdowns are becoming worse, he's become a really picky eater and he's become a hitter. I think a big part is his delayed communication skills, being sick so often and having his Big Feelings. But it's just becoming harder to deal with all the time. He's such a sweet, funny boy but when he gets really upset it's just a lot. I just feel like I'm not doing good enough and I'm failing him. I'm praying he actually qualifies for speech this time and hopefully that helps us through this stage but man. idk what the point is of this. just needed to talk about it somewhere and hopefully have people to relate to. how do you deal with the hitting & the fits with a speech delay?

Hey guys! So I am going to graduate soon with a BSN and am thinking of taking the NCLEX around July/August. I applied to a bunch of positions for NYU and NYP (will try to shoot my shot for MSH in a bit after I finish cleaning up my cover letters), but since I don't know anyone who works in nyc hospitals, I thought I'd come over to reddit to get some advice:
For my NYU applications, I have been applying to new grad positions since late March and have heard crickets from them so far. This is my first time applying to them so I have no idea if this is normal. When I checked my application status, it said that they were all submitted successfully yet I have not gotten an email from anyone (save for that questionnaire that they had every applicant take like a week after submission) so idk if this means I am still a potential candidate or not, so I was wondering if anyone knows if I should be concerned by this lack of update?
As for my NYP applications, I have the same issue with them as with my NYU ones. At least on their website I am able to see whether my application is still considered or not, but again I have applied to some positions dating back to mid-April and nobody has contacted me or anything. It's gotten to the point where I am getting impatient and frustrated especially as a lot of my peers have already gotten jobs or at the very least gotten an interview or two. I have only gotten rejections and it's pretty discouraging. I will definitely continue to search for more positions (I'm desperate enough to apply to positions that I 100% do not qualify for but I have heard of people getting accepted regardless so I thought why not hahah), but I was wondering if anyone has any advice on what I should do if there is anything I should do differently?
Apologies for the long post! I thought I should add that my permanent address is in nyc and that I went to nursing school in a different state in case that has any effect on my application process. Also I have never worked in the hospital excluding clinicals so maybe this has something to do with me not getting job offers? Any response is appreciated!!

The following is an original work of fan fiction. It will only make sense if you’ve read Corpies and SP4
“Fucking bullshit cock-garglers!”, Hannah, formerly known as Hexcellent, uttered louder than she intended.
Luckily, she was sitting by herself in a third floor private room in the brand new wing of the Sizemore undergraduate library. On the main floor, any sound louder than a fart would’ve earned a collective, “shhhhh,” and annoyed stares from half the people studying. And frankly, as difficult as these Gen Chem practice exams were, the former PEERS would be spitting out a few more expletives before she was done.
Hannah glanced at her watch and sighed heavily. It was 4:43 PM. She still had two and a half hours before she’d need to head to the lift to meet Devon and Kacey, two other first year HCP students, for some evening training. Okay, you got this girl. You just fucked up some amped criminal supers, you can handle goddamn mass to mole composition formula and stoichiom-whatever-the-fuck, she thought to herself. With resigned determination, the HCP student began swiping through class presentation slides on her tablet, reviewing problems she had trouble with. For a solid 2 hours her eyes never left the material and she honestly started to feel more comfortable with what she needed to know. Hannah was in the zone. That was until she was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“What. The actual. Fuck?“, Hannah said slowly as she looked up towards the door and the adjacent window.
The summoner saw two boys standing outside , one of whom was a short muscular guy with dark brown hair that she recognized. She was fairly certain his name Lucas, and that he was another HCP first year. He was in the alternative class though, while Hannah was in combat, so they hadn’t been around each other a whole hell of a lot. The other seemed familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger or on where she’d seen him before. They were each moving their mouths, and pointing a finger at themselves and into the room clearly asking if they could come in. Hannah got up and opened the door.
“Hey, Helen, right? You think that we can study in here with you? All the good tables downstairs are full. I just met Tristan here and he’s in the same predicament as me,” said Lucas before he lowered his voice to a whisper, leaned his head in, and pointed to the boy he referred to as Tristan. “He’s in the same ummm…special program as us. In his 2nd year.”
With that information, Hannah realized where she’d seen that guy. He was at the freshman party hosted by the second years. She remembered thinking that he came off as kind of a douchebag by the way he was standing around, nursing the same drink with a smug look on his face the whole time.
“Yeah, sure, whatever. As long as you guys dont act like complete assholes and make a bunch of noise. I gotta focus for about another 30 minutes then the room is yours. Cool?”
“Cool,” the boys said in unison.
“And it’s Hannah by the way. Not Helen. You’re Lucas, right?” She held out her hand towards him.
Lucas politely shook her hand. “Sorry about that Hannah. I’m terrible at remembering names,” he said with a slight shrug. “Just gonna grab a seat on this side so I can stay outta your way.” He held out his arm towards the opposite side of the table from where Hannah had been sitting and started walking over there.
Tristan walked in and closed the door behind himself. He gave Hannah a simple head nod and smirk but never formerly introduced himself. Very similar to his demeanor at the party; as though he couldn’t be bothered.
Yep, arrogant douche, she thought. Then she pictured the look of surprise on the 2nd year’s face if she were to manifest her big furry friend to accidentally-on-purpose kick him in the balls.
Hannah had often wondered if anyone in the HCP realized her summon was the same giant bunny that helped save Brewster almost a year ago. Titan had told her the DVA would hide any association between the tower-sized rabbit and her PEERS persona but she figured that once classmates saw her summon for the first time they’d make the connection. That didn’t seem to be the case though, at least as far as she knew. It helped that when she summoned Hopcules these days, he was about the same height and stature as Titan. None of her combat training took place outside yet, so no one in HCP got to see her manifestation at his full potential size. He’d also taken on more humanistic facial expressions lately and had been appearing in a variety of different clothes and accessories. Hell, the last time she trained with Kacey, the hulking rabbit materialized in a denim vest, a blue bandanna on his head, metal spiked leather bracelets around his wrists, brass knuckles, and with gold chains around his neck. Kacey couldn’t stop laughing during their sparring session until Hopcules had her bound and hog tied. Even with her enhanced strength, she couldn’t break free of what evidently weren’t just plain gold necklaces. It hadn’t dawned on Hannah until later that, the night before, she’d fallen asleep to an old 80s action flick about a renegade cop taking on a vicious street gang. She wondered if tonight her childhood protector would show up in a lab coat, holding a periodic table. The Sizemore freshman briefly shook her head to snap herself out of her thoughts and sat down to resume her work. She’d gotten fully back into her study mode until…
“Yo, does sound carry out of this room?” Tristan asked.
“Seriously?! You do remember that whole bit about NOT being obnoxious assholes, right?”Hannah asked incredulously.
“Damn girl chill. I just wanted to ask my guy here a question and didn’t want to risk being overheard. You should smile more girl. You know what I mean?“
Relax. Breathe. You don’t want to be seen as a troublemaker. It would not be a good idea to kick this fucker’s ass while inside of the school library. Or would it be? No. No. Definitely not a good idea, she thought to herself.
“Well unless you two were standing outside of here practicing at being mimes as a back up in case you don’t make it to graduation, I’m pretty sure this room is well insulated to sound.”
Tristan grunted in indignation and sarcastically replied, “you’re hilarious.”
“I’m definitely going all the way through. No way I won’t graduate,” Lucas chimed in, seemingly oblivious to the tension that’d just arisen between the other two people in the room. I’ve known I wanted to be a hero ever since I was little. My parents have spent a fortune sending me to an elite training camp for the last seven summers to make sure I’d be prepared as possible for the HCP. Plus I’ve had personal coaches work with me for years on new ways to use my power.”
“Bro! That’s what I was wanting to ask you about. I saw the logo on on your bag. Holy shit, did you do the SETA training camps?” asked Tristan.
“Yeah, I take it you’ve heard of it.”
“Hell yeah I have. The Super Elite Training Academy. Who hasn’t? I hear those workouts are so intense. No wonder you’re so jacked. You must’ve been in great shape for your first day here. Mad props bro. Is it true you get to fight against human looking robot…”
“Hey! Tweedledum and tweedle-dickless, I honestly didn’t know there was such a thing as a two-man circle jerk, so I really appreciate the show but is there any chance I can get back to work without any more distractions?“
Lucas had mixture surprise and guilt run across his face. He opened his mouth as though he was about to say something, but glanced over to Tristan and stayed silent.
“What? You mad because you’re realizing you can’t stack up against the competition. Guess what. My guy here isn’t the only one who’s been preparing for this program long before he was admitted. I’ve been getting ready for years too. Trained in jiu-jitsu and boxing on top of honing my super abilities. Have you even done anything? Or did you just apply and cross your fingers?”
Hannah could see where this was going in. She decided in that moment to just let it play out. Fuck it, she thought. She was basically done studying. Even if she failed the final, which she was confident that she wouldn’t, she’d still pass the class. She stood up, pressed an icon on her tablet touchscreen and began putting other things away in her bag while she spoke. “Actually, I never had any special training as a kid. To tell you the truth, I shouldn’t even be here. I got into some trouble years ago. The kind of trouble that normally prevents one from getting admitted into an HCP. But, I was on a PEERS team for years and I got to do a lot of…
“Ha! You’re telling us you’re fucking a Corpie. Can you believe this, dude?“ Tristan nudged Lucas, looking for his agreement. To his credit, Lucas appeared visibly uncomfortable and leaned away from the other boy.
“Don’t know what it says about your class if they’re letting Corpies in,” continued Tristan with a sneer. “I guess you really do need to study. Obviously you’re the one that needs a back up plan. And here’s another thing little girl. It’s not just about how much you’ve trained beforehand, it’s also about who you know. And I know people. My mom‘s best friend is related to the Hero, Unseelie. So I’ve actually met a few Heroes who I’m sure will vouch for me when the time comes. Pity you can’t say the same. We all know Heroes don’t give two shits about Corpies.”
For a moment Hannah’s face expressed a flat affect. Then suddenly she burst into laughter. And not just some derisive laugh as though she was trying to convey to Tristan that she didn’t take his comments seriously. But an eye watering, oxygen depriving, honest to the Gods belly laugh. The kind of laugh that would’ve been contagious had she been around friends. She carried on for a minute until her amusement died down to a just a mild chortle. Hannah wiped her eyes. “You know people?“ She started laughing again, even louder than the first time. “Oh my Gods. Stop. Stop. I can’t breathe. Is this your fucking power?” Hannah was bent over at the waist still laughing hysterically, holding out one finger as to communicate, “give me a second.” After another minute, she wiped her eyes again, took a big gulp of air, and collected herself. “Woooh. Now that was some funny fucking shit.”
“Who in the hell do you think…“ Tristan started to say through gritted teeth.
“No no no. Please don’t get me started again. I don’t think my ribs can take it,“ said Hannah still chuckling some. “Let’s see what have I done and who do I know? You know I always knew that eventually I’d tell people about this, I just didn’t think it would go down like this.” The summoner raised her hand, then slowly curled it into a fist. Standing 3ft tall and leaning into the corner so as not to be visible to anyone who happened to be looking into the room at that moment, was Hopcules, adorned in the same armor he’d worn on the day he helped to save Brewster. “Look familiar to anyone?”
“That looks like the giant rabbit that fought robots with Titan. Hare-a-clees or something like that. My little sister has like 5 of its t-shirts,” Lucas responded.
“Wow kid, you really are shit with remembering names. Hop-cu-les is the name I gave him when I was just a child. Surprised the shit outta me that he came out the size of a skyscraper when those robots nearly killed me and my team, ” Hannah stated nonchalantly as she waved her hand and made Hopcules fade away.
With a grudging realization, Tristan began to ask, “wait, you’re not actually saying…”
“Oh look, captain mc-douche-nozzle is catching on. Somebody give the kid a prize. Yes, dumbass, I’m actually saying I fought with Titan, yes, thee fucking Titan, with every other Hero team in Brewster to stop those mechs from destroying the entire city. I’m saying the strongest hero alive is my personal mentor and it was his recommendation that got me into this program.”
Lucas looked back and forth between Hannah and Tristan having already realized that the sophomore might be one of those guys who’d lash out over his perceived inferiority. Lucas was so curious though he had to ask, “but… But, that rabbit is everywhere these days. Not just T-shirts. Toys, a cartoon, and I just read there’s going to be a next-gen console video game based on his character. If you own the rights to that image, you’d be loaded.“
“Eh,” Hannah said with shrug. “Youre leaving out the movie deal Lenny just got for me, but not something I talk about too much . It leaves me enough to be comfortable and to be able to donate a library wing to the university thats giving me a shot at being a hero.” Hannah responded. She gave Tristan a quick wink and glanced over her shoulder towards the door.
Tristan looked in the same direction and noticed something he hadn’t bothered paying attention to before, a small engraving on the center of the door of a bipedal rabbit. This would’ve been the most surprising thing that he’d seen since he set foot in the room if it wasn’t for the photo that appeared on Hannah’s tablet now facing him. It was an image of five people: Graham De Soto, the new head of the DVA, Titan in his iconic Hero costume, Dean Jackson, a large muscular young man with a shit eating grin who Tristan didn’t recognize, and another person in a generic gray mask, presumably female, and wearing a smile of malicious enjoyment, the same as the woman standing before him.
Hannah saw what caught his attention and picked up her tablet. “Oh, did you notice this? I love this picture. Titan called me in for back up as a Temporary Emergency Hero Asset. We beat the shit out of a literal army of enhanced criminal supers and took this picture after everything calmed down. All the other HCP deans were there too. Mr. Desoto actually told me if I ever needed a favor, he owed me one.” Hannah wore a wistful expression as she thought back on that day with fondness.
“Anyway, I gotta get outta here. S’posed to meet up with my training partners. Cause no matter what your background is or who you know, no one is a shoe-in for the final 10. Lucas, feel free to meet us in the combat cells tonight if you want to get a work out in and get tired of hanging out with this fuckwad. Later losers!” Hannah said this last part as she turned around and headed towards door while holding up her middle finger for all to see.
Tristan was obviously livid. His hands had been visibly shaking as he stood and listened to all the ways this 1st year had accomplished more than he’d even thought possible for student. Who does this little bitch think she is? She’s full of shit. She has to be. I’ll show her. From his elbows down, Tristan‘s arms began to darken. In seconds the two appendages looked like small tree trunks, with his fingers elongating into barbed tendril-liked branches rapidly moving towards Hannah.
Although Lucas had worked for years to improve his ability to cast his energy based illusionary environments-referred to by one quirky coach in the past as a “holodeck”- speed was an element that he continued to struggle with. He began to cast a simple illusion of darkness, so as to blind Tristan, but he knew almost immediately that it wouldn’t reach him in time. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw furry white movement. The miniature Hopcules had reappeared and was running towards the back of the chair Tristan had been sitting in. With a parkour maneuver that would make Jackie Chan jealous, Hopcules leapt from the floor to the chair, then from the chair to the rear wall. He torpedoed off of the wall with the force of both hind paws and made contact Tristan’s head, knocking the arrogant second year to the floor. He laid there dazed and confused about what had just struck him as his branches retracted and his arms returned to normal. The summon vanished before he even touched the ground.
Hannah smiled as she exited the room. Thanks be to the Gods. I was hoping that piece of shit would try something so I could have self-defense as an excuse. Kacey and Devon better be ready. I’m already warmed up.

Bed had always been a haven for me, as I’m sure it has been for many others. A soft rectangle of comfort that I can always rely on. It didn’t matter how hard my day was or how harsh the weather outside those four edges, it always soothed me. I’d argue the harsher days made it feel more inviting.
All my worries and stress bleeding out of me, soaking into the bedsheets.
That’s all anyone needs, somewhere to rest their head. And usually, if you can be lucky enough, you might find someone to share that space with. And I was lucky enough. As wonderful as laying in bed is, when my wife would crawl in and pull up close to me, it was another ball game.
Her heat would mesh with mine, skin would run flush together, and we would become symbiotic until the sunrise. That’s all I needed, all I wanted.
I normally crawl into bed before she gets home. Her job would have her working different hours each day while my schedule was steady. So, I’d enjoy my alone time, get comfortable in bed, and eagerly await her arrival.
So that’s how it went. It was a frosty night but not cold enough to run the heater, so I just had the blankets pulled up to my chest. Work was rough, so sleep started working its magic on me quickly and I could feel my body becoming heavier in bed. I was in and out, so time wasn’t really something I had a concept of, so when I felt a pressure on the bed, it made sense that it was my wife.
Her fingers were icy as they slipped under the shirt I was wearing and rested on my chest. Her frame latched onto mine like a puzzle, and she wrapped her arms around me.
She was so cold, uncomfortably so.
It caused my teeth to clatter together for a moment as she siphoned my body heat until we had reached an equilibrium. Her fingers gently pressed into my skin, a tender pressure I had felt time and time again, one that always lulled me to sleep. And I could feel it then, slumber ready for its final approach.
So, it was there, seconds from reaching my dreams, that I heard the front door closing. It felt like someone had ripped the bed sheets off me, thin and piercing needles of cold, running shivers all over me. It was loud, the door closing, I mean.
I was frozen, I could feel the fingers on my chest tighten in response to the noise as well. It was taking me a while to process what was happening. But I figured she had forgotten to lock the front door, and someone had slipped inside, perhaps closing the door harder than they intended to in their rush.
“Stay here.” I whispered harshly; words filled with the panic response I was trying to fight off.
Quickly shunting the hand away from my chest, I got out of bed and gripped the baseball bat we keep by the bed. An object I had hoped I’d never have to pick up in a situation like this. Stepping cautiously towards the bedroom door, I could see that someone had turned a light on.
The kitchen light spilled out, meekly illuminating a few spots of the apartment. My fingers gently pried the bedroom door wider open, trying to avoid its usual squeaking.
The baseball bat rested on my shoulder as I tried to recall the last time, I had even swung a bat, suddenly all too paranoid that I might not do so effectively. There was the sound of rummaging from the kitchen, a small clattering of pots and pans.
With a few quick breaths to hype myself up, I quickly rounded the corner and prepared to swing my bat.
Stepping out, basking in the kitchen’s light, I heard a high pitch scream wail out, filling the house with the cry.
I sank.
Every bit of me felt like I was falling through the floor. My heart was at my feet and my head had sunk so low that my thoughts couldn’t keep up. She was frightened too. I must have looked insane. She was speaking. I could hazard a guess at what she was saying. An apology for making too much noise on her way in, likely. I couldn’t hear any of it, though. My head was static.
I could hardly even recognize her as my wife. No, she was a concept, an idea. She stood in all her glory as a stark realization.
My wife’s eyes became delicate with concern. As she reached out to me, I backed away, not in fear of her, but the dawning of it all put me on guard. I could still feel the fingers I felt in bed pressing on my chest as I turned around, fingers gripping the bat tighter than ever.
I was quick. Quicker than I thought, I could move in a situation like that. We should’ve left. We should’ve called the police. However, many “should haves” in life remain unclaimed forever. I left all my ‘should haves’ behind. Each rational thought vanishing with every step I took that brought me closer to the sanctity of my bed once represented.
It was still wide open from when I had left it before. I said nothing to my wife. The words in my throat were ice cubes refusing to budge. Didn’t even know if she was following me. Focusing and narrowing in on my goal was all I could do to stop myself from toppling over. From balling up on the floor in hysterics.
Returning to the room and edging through the doorway, I had expected to see the bed empty. I had so desperately wanted to laugh it off. To rationalize that my dreams and reality had meshed while drifting off and that nothing, absolutely nothing, was amiss. At the very worst, I could claim that I was losing my mind.
Just enough moonlight.
I cursed that.
That there was enough moonlight basking my room. I wish something had swallowed up the moon, plunging the world into darkness. But there was just enough to see it.
To see the bed sheets being wrinkled by the hand that had been on my chest. Just enough moonlight to bounce off her eyes, peering up at me, small pricks of silver light. Her frame was bathed in the gentle glow of moonlight, her skin taking on a pale and milky blue hue, with splotches of black reminiscent of resting ash.
That thing in my bed. The moonlight allowed me to see it. I watched as it dragged its ragged fingers back and forth on the sheets, like it was beckoning me to crawl back into bed. Its other hand held her ghoulish head up. It was, I don’t know, posing or something. Like it was trying to be seductive.
She was a monster, and worse, a monster that had invaded that one place I could rely on.
Fear consumed me. I wasn’t me. It wasn’t my thoughts rummaging around in my head; it was the thoughts of a man who just wanted to live.
I’m not sure if she had even made a noise when the end of my bat met with her soft temple. It turned out I knew damn well how to swing that thing. It was almost pretty, how the red inside of her meshed with the cold color pallet the room was adorning. There was almost no resistance. None that I could feel in the moment.
My fingernails carved into my palm as I brought the bat down over and over. Watching her face warp and twist with each hit, the blue hues being overtaken by smatterings of crimson. Her body jerked with each hit, pulses of life reaching out before quickly vanishing.
I should’ve taken a second.
I should’ve assessed the situation.
My wife, the cops, everyone I talk to tells me that what I did was natural. A fight-or-flight response gone completely haywire. But now that it’s over. Every time I lay my head down on the pillow, I can hear that horrid thud.
An axe splitting the bark of a tree.
A wet towel smacking the linoleum.
It pulses in my head, poisoning my sanctuary. I don’t know how many times I hit her. There was nothing resembling a face by the time I was done. It wasn’t the first time she had broken into someone’s house, but it’d certainly be the last.
The red paste and blue skin waltzed so lovingly with the red and blue lights of the officers that arrived on the scene. My wife must have called.
The elderly woman had escaped the nursing home her kids left her in a few nights before and had been on the street since. The frost of a winter night stealing the plush from her skin. Her already frail frame was further weakened by the lack of food. Dementia had riddled her mind. She didn’t know where she was half the time.
Bed, those four sides. It’s supposed to be a sanctuary. Somewhere you can go to escape all the monsters waiting to gobble you up outside. Not for me though, not anymore. Every night, when I peer into the darkness long enough, I could still see the silver beads peering back at me. Two small orbs of pin-prick light, reminding me.
No matter what I do.
Where I go.
What bed I call mine.
I now sleep, with a monster.

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Have taken the NCLEX in New York have RN license in New York endorsing me to Florida.regarding single state/Multi State. I graduated from a school school in Puerto Rico. Which is originally accredited. ACEN accreditation as well is an associate degree program. I took the Nclex through New York because you can take a multiple times long story short I passed the text. I have my New York license and I’m endorsing it to Florida now Florida is telling me that I lack some requirements first saying that I have to take an English competency exam that I have to have a transcript translated and evaluated when my transcripts are in English.. English wise I grew up here. I went to high school in Miami. I went to college in Palm Beach State College in West Palm Beach. I just finished the Nursing in Puerto Rico.. I am waiting for a friend of mine to clarify something for me, but I haven’t got a hold of her in while I do. I’ve been searching online because she told me that I should have a price for the single state and after two or three years, I can upgrade to the state license.. since I’m doing my application by endorsement. Because also nurses in Puerto Rico they can take the nursing exam in Spanish and they become nurses and have a license they can endorse their license to Florida and Florida only single state which is not My Case. I took the I didn’t take any Spanish test. Isn’t the Plex and national certification exam? Anyone please share some light on this.

I’m 15 years into my career but this one caught me by surprise. I don’t think I handled this particularly well, so looking for some advice about what to do next, if anything.
During my 1:1 today, my manager suddenly said “I’d like to provide you with the opportunity to share any feedback for me that you’ve shared with [GM/her boss].” I paused to think and said I couldn’t think of any feedback I’d provided to our GM that I hadn’t also shared with her. I asked if she could provide me with more context and she said that some things had come up during her annual performance review that surprised her and it was “impacting our relationship.” I realized that she was really upset and angry, but I was also a little stumped because for her annual eval I provided the standard form of what I felt was professional, overall positive feedback. I also had a follow-up conversation with GM at his request in which he asked fact-based questions (e.g. “how often do you have team meetings and what is a typical agenda?”) that I answered honestly and without much elaboration.
I know I should have declined to share the feedback, but I caved under the pressure and pulled up the performance review and told my manager what was in it. Again, it was largely positive with a few growth opportunities identified. The GM conversation isn’t standard, so I suspected that something was up and was careful to be factual and balanced while I spoke with him. I told her a couple questions I remembered him asking and how I answered.
My manager followed this with “what did you say about Project X and my role in it?” I looked in my review and thought back to the GM conversation. I honestly couldn’t think of anything I said about Project X and told her so. Project X was an important project I led this year with her support. It was ambitious and had some mixed results.
At that point, she started crying a bit and explaining. It seems like she got a pretty rough performance review and had decided that I was the source of the negative feedback provided to the GM. We do 360 evals, so the GM would have collected feedback from our entire team and her peers. I said that I wasn’t sure what I shared that would have led to that sort of evaluation, but I’m sorry that she was hurt by it and any role I inadvertently played. It seems my manager thinks her eval wasn’t particularly fair and was looking for the feedback that led to her getting it.
At this point, I don’t think I’m going to do anything further. I’m in the process of transitioning to another internal role in the next few quarters. I feel like I messed up though by disclosing the content of my eval and apologizing though I don’t think I did anything wrong. The request and the emotional intensity of the conversation caught me by surprise. Can I just write this off as a learning experience or is there some other action I should take for CYA?

First time posting anything in Reddit. Seemed like as good a time as any as I'm really struggling with how to deal with a devastating situation with my mom! This is a long one but I need to get it out there. I'm heartbroken and out of options, as is my whole family.
In the middle of the night after Easter Sunday, I got a call at 3am in the morning from mom telling me that my dad "finally did it - he tried to kill me." She was in the hospital and physically speaking, unharmed. She told me my dad was arrested and in the psych ward and that she needed to go as the doctors were checking up on her. Thankfully by the time I got off the phone, my dad had responded to a text I'd sent him saying what in the world is going on, saying that he had to call 911 on her; he was at home and safe by that point.
He'd woken up at 2am their time and had noticed she had left the house in her car. After a quick review of her iPhone location, he noticed she was at a house they had rented a number of years earlier. He drove over and could see her sitting on the couch, apparently alone. He tried tapping on the window thinking perhaps she was confused and didn't know where she was and had wandered in. She saw him but then looked away and moved to another room. Finally, he realized he needed to knock on the door. He knew the couple that lived there casually and explained she'd been struggling recently. The husband told him he didn't know what to think at first when she said he had tried to kill her, but quickly realized something wasn't right. He had already called 911. My dad also called 911 because she wouldn't leave with him and he didn't know what else to do.
When the police arrived, they quickly realized something was very wrong with my mom and that my dad didn't pose any threat to her (she admitted right away that he was sleeping when she left). She was moved to the hospital and my dad went home. At the hospital, they found her to be extremely manic - paranoid, delusional, hyperverbal. They (meaning multiple psychiatrists after examination and discussion with me and my dad) put her on an involuntary 72 hold under the state's emergency hold act for someone who was a danger to themselves or others (she was deemed to be a danger to herself because she had no insight into her situation and couldn't take care of herself).
After the 72 hours, they decided they needed to continue to hold her as she was still paranoid and delusional, as well as exhibiting signs of dementia. Once we were finally able to talk to a couple doctors live and get some very preliminary indications that she was suffering from progressive dementia and some form of delirium/psychosis, I was able to join my dad to try and figure out next steps. It became clear over the course of the next 10-11 days, that we were going to have to move her into memory care, so that's what we did. Signed a contract with as nice a place as we could find, hired a concierge psychiatrist billed as one of the best in the state, hired an elder care attorney and also an advocate to help my dad navigate the situation.
We received word (after following up day after day with very little communication) that she would be released from the psychiatric ward mid-week and arranged for her to be taken directly to the memory card facility based on doctor's advice. Despite a hiccup where she talked the driver into bringing her home first, where I luckily just happened to be eating lunch, we got her checked into the facility (I told her it was either back to the psych ward or to the facility and she happy complied). Problem was - she didn't realize it was memory care and it only took about four hours before the phone calls started about how awful the place was, how she had to get out, the place wasn't safe, I was a bad son, my dad was evil, etc. etc.
As an aside, up to this point, we thought we had done just about everything by the book. Ironically, it was my mom who insisted some number of years ago that she and my dad should get long term care insurance in addition to executing both health care representative POAs and financial POAs. After talking with the elder law attorney, we felt we had 99% of what was needed to at least take some of the strain out of the situation. He did say that if the proverbial shit hit the fan, the POAs might not be enough and that we'd need full legal guardianship, but he felt pretty good that we could do what the doctors were advising us to do and get her into a structured facility, at least for the time and try to get her stable. If we could get her 30 days of very structured care, the doctor told us that there's always a chance she could respond well. ("Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst" in his words.)
And that's where things fell apart. Even though the psychiatrist/MD realized very quickly that she was suffering from some form of moderate to severe dementia, my mom is very high functioning and began plotting almost immediately to get out of the facility despite our insistence that she needed the 24/7 care at least for the time being. She was calling everyone she knew - friends, other family, other doctors etc., insisting that she was fine; it was my dad who needed help, and that she needed out right away.
The above had become a familiar refrain over the last 12-18 months. It started innocently enough when my mom had made a comment that she was a little afraid of my dad because he'd gotten angry one evening. I took it very seriously and asked her to take me through what had happened. Apparently they'd gotten into a minor argument at one point over something trivial. My mom kept needling him on the issue and he eventually pounded his fist on the table (completely out of character for him) and it had rattled her. I explained to my mom that I took this seriously and I'd talk with him to make sure everything was ok. I did confront him and he was honest - said he lost his temper but that mom was just on him 24/7 about things that were either minor or simply not true. She claimed he played golf every day when in reality he played maybe 2-3 times a month (he's retired so I'm not sure what would be wrong with playing everyday but I guess that's besides the point). She would get pissed at him for being gone for too long but she'd also get pissed for him not going out and finding things today. There was a lot of this.
From that point, things got worse - she had a surgery in September of last year where she underwent general anesthesia and that really seemed to light a fire under the symptoms. She began to withdraw even further from social activities. She wasn't sleeping much at night; hardly eating. The accusations against my dad got bigger and bolder (he had a girlfriend that was 40 years younger than him; he'd bought a boat among them). None of these things were true. My brother went to stay with my folks for a few months - he wanted to spend time with them in any event, but we also thought it would be good for him to see the dynamic up close. Maybe our dad was doing some things he shouldn't? Maybe he needed to adjust his behavior? Well, after three months, my brother could tell something was seriously wrong with my mom. She was not herself and things were getting worse.
Three days before the Easter Sunday where it all went south, my mom was supposed to come up to where my wife and I live and go into assisted living for 30-60 days. She wanted to do it and we were excited because we thought it would give us a chance to have some objective views from the staff on what might be going on. We thought dementia was a real possibility because her own primary care doctor had suggested for at least 12 months that she get tested but she'd canceled no less than three appointments (the last two literally as they were getting in the car). For reasons that still aren't entirely clear, she canceled at the last minute. Even though my wife and I had made the arrangements and had everything essentially ready to go, my mom insisted on trying to plan with the facility as well and some wires got crossed on trivial things. It seems those things caused her to be suspicious and start to believe we were "trying to put her away." Again though, this was her idea.
It was the period between the cancellation and Easter Sunday that things just spiraled. My wife and I, among others, were getting texts and phone calls in the middle of the night, all night during those three to four days. They were increasingly paranoid and unhinged, linking my dad to the husband of a family friend who'd committed suicide. Saying he was a narcissist, just like my dad. Many things that simply were not at all in line with the character of my dad (and not just according to me but everyone who ever knew him and knew him well). When she began to bring up the fact that she thought the friend's husband had killed her, I knew things were bad. I suggested my dad get out of the house and give her some space. I was worried about both of them. She's tiny but you never know. I also didn't want my dad arrested or put into a situation where the stress can be overwhelming - he's got a bard heart. So he did leave the day before Easter, even though he totally discounted my concern.
The reason he came back on Easter Sunday was because she asked him to. She wanted to celebrate and see the dog. By all accounts, they had a nice evening and even watched a movie together before he went to bed. And then she decided to get in her car, drive 80 miles to a house they used to live in and tell the shocked couple that my dad was trying to kill her!
So, she's in the memory care facility after her release from the psychiatric hold and as excruciatingly difficult as it was to put here there, we felt it was necessary, at least until the paranoia subsided. I stayed for three days and visited her each day. She'd fluctuate between telling me I was an awful son, rehashing all the "documentation" she had on how horrible the doctors and my dad are, and then saying how she didn't want to ruin the family and we could all work it out. My brother stayed for another few days after I left and then had to get back home. He received similar treatment. We mistakenly thought we had things under control until she decided to write a very thoughtfully crafted letter stating explicitly that she requested release from the facility, nothing that she was "of sound mind and body."
The doctor, the facility and our attorney explained that they could no longer keep her there. We understood the limits of the POA, but this was hard to fathom. We had mounds of doctor's evidence from the psychiatric ward and the new doctor pointing to not only advanced dementia, but also stating that she was unable to care for herself and needed round the clock supervision from someone other than my dad. It wasn't enough. We needed a new plan. The doctor was clear that my dad couldn't stay with her and take care of her, so I looked into 24/7 hour nursing. I had no idea how much it cost and when I realized that $28k or so a month would be needed, we realized there no way we could cover this for any significant period of time, even with a portion offset by long term care.
We were lucky enough to have a family member that was a former nurse who was willing to come down for a time to stay with my mom. The good news was by this point, my mom did hear one thing from her doctor - that she needed "24/7 care," so we explained that we'd get her home on two conditions - (1) we had to wait till the family friend could get into town; and (2) she needed to do the doctor recommended cognitive evaluation with a neuropsychologist. She agreed to both.
The day after she did her neuro exam, she went home with our family member and has been home now for over a week. My dad has been couch surfing, trying to keep it together. It took a week but we received the neuro results and they confirmed what we thought we already knew but were nonetheless still devastating - severe vascular dementia. This, combined with an MRI they had done in the psychiatric ward, were enough for the doctors to recommend we pursue guardianship because she doesn't have capacity and can't make any of her own decisions, which we're doing now on an expedited basis. In the meantime, my mom has been up and down at home, and my dad has ridden the waves with her. He'll think she's turning a corner with a nice text or two to him but it will turn out she just wants help with her phone and if he spends a bit of time with her, she'll eventually turn on him - back to the same accusations. She's also taken some of his things and thrown them out near the trash, including his pacemaker monitor.
A couple days back, the neuro doctor walked my mom through her report and despite all the evidence to the contrary, my mom told me the report was "GREAT" (she noted she doesn't have Alzheimer's, which it seems is true, but vascular is no better from what I can tell; and perhaps worse in ways!). Given she was able to sit with the doctor and hear the results firsthand, I thought I could explain to her the severity of what was going on and why we needed to get her the care she needs but she just won't hear it. She thinks the doctors have told her she can either go into Assisted Living or get 24/7 care - that's not true at all. I've tried to explain that those two things are mutually exclusive, but again, she's not having it. She wants no part of memory care and believe me, if there was any way we could do this without having to put her into memory care, at least for some period of time, my whole family would be all for it. We don't see any alternative at this point.
The horrible thing is that if she won't go voluntarily, I think our only option is to call 911 and have her taken in once the guardianship has gone through. This breaks all of our hearts. I don't think my dad can do it. I don't know if I can do it but I know I may have to do it. My only solace is that our family member with her now says her quality at life at home right now is not good. She is either shuffling around the house "organizing" at all hours of the day and night, or on her phone (we believe making notes to herself that we're not sure she even saves). We all believe that in a facility over time, she may begin to socialize better and given how high functioning she is, even find some purpose and meaning in helping folks out who are suffering differently than she is. She's always been generous with her time and service-oriented (until this disease started to take all of that away a couple years back now that we realize what it was). We also think she'd benefit from excursions with us and others out of the facility for meals/events etc. if we can get her more stable.
I've read some incredible stories in these threads but wanted to share ours in the case it could help someone who might be going through the same things but also to see if there's anything we're missing? We feel we've explored every feasible option and our hands are tied at this point. I'm sick to my stomach all day long worrying about this and wake up almost every night trying to decide what to do. It's taken over all our lives. I welcome any feedback.
(*Note that I haven't given a ton of detail on the behavioral issues but suffice it to say that there's no possibility that my dad could look after her, at least right now. It's not safe for either her or him for the same reasons it wasn't that Easter Day. I also worry about any other caregiver as each person who has tried to help has become the subject of her ire and if they don't bend to her every request - take her to superfluous dr appts, hair appts, the phone store to check her phone which she never thinks is working properly, etc. - they will have hell to pay for some period of time.)

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A gap analysis helps businesses identify discrepancies between their current state and their desired future state, enabling them to bridge gaps, capitalize on opportunities, and drive growth. In this article, we'll explore why conducting a gap analysis is essential for businesses of all sizes and industries.
Identifying Areas for Improvement:
One of the primary reasons for conducting a gap analysis is to identify areas where a business is falling short of its goals or objectives. By comparing current performance metrics, processes, and outcomes with desired benchmarks or industry standards, businesses can pinpoint areas for improvement. Whether it's inefficiencies in operations, gaps in product offerings, or shortcomings in customer service, a gap analysis sheds light on areas that require attention and intervention.
Aligning Strategies with Goals:
A gap analysis helps businesses ensure alignment between their strategies and goals. By assessing the gap between current performance and desired outcomes, businesses can evaluate the effectiveness of their strategies and make adjustments as needed. This alignment ensures that resources, efforts, and investments are directed toward activities that support overarching business objectives, driving progress and success.
Capitalizing on Opportunities:
In addition to highlighting areas for improvement, a gap analysis also identifies opportunities for growth and expansion. By identifying gaps between current capabilities and market demands, businesses can uncover opportunities to innovate, diversify, or enter new markets. Whether it's launching new products, expanding into untapped customer segments, or entering new geographical regions, a gap analysis enables businesses to capitalize on emerging opportunities and stay ahead of the competition.
Enhancing Competitiveness:
Conducting a gap analysis is essential for businesses to maintain competitiveness in the marketplace. By benchmarking their performance against industry peers or best practices, businesses can assess their competitive position and identify areas where they lag behind competitors. This insight enables businesses to implement strategies to close the gap, differentiate themselves, and maintain a competitive edge in the market.
Improving Customer Satisfaction:
A gap analysis helps businesses understand and address gaps in customer satisfaction and experience. By analyzing feedback, complaints, and customer metrics, businesses can identify pain points, preferences, and expectations. This enables businesses to tailor their products, services, and processes to better meet customer needs, enhance satisfaction, and foster loyalty.
Driving Continuous Improvement:
Perhaps the most significant benefit of conducting a gap analysis is its role in driving continuous improvement. By regularly assessing performance, setting benchmarks, and closing gaps, businesses create a culture of learning, adaptation, and innovation. This continuous improvement mindset enables businesses to stay agile, responsive, and resilient in the face of evolving market dynamics and customer preferences.
In today's competitive business landscape, conducting a gap analysis is not just a best practice; it's a strategic imperative. By identifying areas for improvement, aligning strategies with goals, capitalizing on opportunities, enhancing competitiveness, improving customer satisfaction, and driving continuous improvement, businesses can bridge the gap between their current state and their desired future state. Whether it's achieving operational excellence, driving growth, or delighting customers, a gap analysis serves as a roadmap for success, guiding businesses toward their goals and aspirations.

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First Series Index Galactic Map State of War Map RoyalRoad Patreon Discord

MNS Trassau

Speinfoent turned around to face Loenda and reported the battlegroup status. “Commander, all ships have successfully completed the blink. Squadrons 4 to 12 all reporting in.”
“Good. Now let’s find out if this ridiculous scheme of yours gets all of us killed,” Loenda said. “Are you sure your sire and dam were not Grass Eaters?”
Speinfoent ignored the jab and continued with the report, “Our sensors are still resolving the enemy ships, but I am certain we are in the right place.”

ZNS 1841

Ditvish woke to the urgent cry of the ship’s klaxon. Wiping sleep from his mind, he picked up his communication device. “Did Skvanu get the raiders from Sixth Fleet?”
“No, Ten Whiskers, you must come to the flag bridge at once!”
“What is it this time? Can’t you ask your combat computers?” he grumbled tiredly.
“Ten Whiskers, the enemy fleet is here!”
He woke up in a hurry. “What?! Here? In Datsot?!”
“Yes, they just blinked in! Their fleet is heading our way, and they have just gone into a full combat burn!”

MNS Trassau

“We are seeing two to three squadrons of space combat ships, mostly Forager-class missile destroyers, and their Thorn-class battleship, the 1841. In orbit of Datsot are another thirty-two orbital support ships and several dozen other support vessels,” Speinfoent reported. “The enemy combat ships are stationary and in a loose formation. It looks like we did catch them off guard.”
“For now,” Loenda hedged. “They’ll be ready and engines hot hours before we come into range. And we don’t have the Nile’s magic sensors working with us this time.”
“No, but we did get the other fishing supplies in the last shipment.”
“We have only been exercising with those for a week!” Loenda exclaimed. “It is risky for our first live use to be against a fully capable combat fleet.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in exercises…” Seeing the ugly expression forming on her face, Speinfoent hurriedly moved on. “Anyway, the missiles will work. They may be barely fastened to the outside of our hulls, but I’m sure they work. After all, we didn’t make them.”
Loenda counted up the enemy ships on her console and did some calculations in her head. “Against my every instinct, we will go ahead, but with the most risk-averse option you came up with earlier. Execute Option Charlie.”
“Affirmative. Maintaining burn. Execute vector change in three minutes…”

ZNS 1841

“Ten Whiskers, they are performing an orbital transfer,” Ditvish’s computer officer called out, eyes glued to the glowing screens of her console.
Ditvish leaned forward. “What is their heading and intercept now?”
“It appears there is no intercept. If they continue their current burn, they may eventually move into a parallel orbit to us.”
“Parallel orbit? That doesn’t make sense. They didn’t come here just to make us wet our pants. Ask the combat computer, how far from us will they be at their closest?” Ditvish asked, puzzled.
A minute of calculations later, she relayed from her console, “It depends on whether they execute another vector change, but at their current burn and at their closest, they should come no closer than twelve times the maximum effective range of our missiles.”
Ditvish peered at the sensor panel, racking his brain for ideas.
None of this made any sense. Skvanu reported in earlier with a blink relay ship since the FTL radios were not working. In the data packet, he said that he was chasing three squadrons of the enemy fleet and planned to run them down with the superior blink fuel capacity of the Znosian ships — these must be the other nine squadrons from Sixth Fleet.
What were they doing here?
If these Lesser Predators forced him to engage in fleet battle here, they very well might have an upper hand, with their nine squadrons to his mere three. But they weren’t cutting him off aggressively or forcing an engagement. If they did move in boldly, he could always back off… delay until Skvanu finishes, returns to Datsot, and coordinate to trap this fleet in the system. But the enemy seemed almost… disinterested in combat; it did not even look like they were going to transfer into range.
“What are your orders, Ten Whiskers?” the computer officer asked.
For the first time in a long time, Ditvish felt at a complete loss. “None for now. Continue to observe the enemy and stay on high alert. Be prepared to move. And update me when Eight Whiskers Skvanu reports anything.”

MNS Oengro

The vacuum of Plaunsollib once again filled up with the communication chatter and munitions of the Malgeir fleet.
“Weapons-free… Kraken away.”
“Bandits deploying glow-worms.”
“Anchor gadgets to Jackal. Tracking.”
Grionc sat back and watched the controlled chaos of the Oengro bridge unfold as they engaged the outnumbered supply convoy escorts in front of them as they continued to stay one step ahead of the massive armada right behind them. The task remained familiar. The practiced crew could have completed this in their sleep. The stakes were higher now, but the job remained the same.
“Vampire swarm. Defending.”
“Popping confetti and turning up the music.”
“Vampires trashed.”
Either through luck or because they had gotten really good at it, most of the projectiles the eight escorts launched at them went wild, flying off into space chasing dazzler signals in errant directions. A few did come closer but were fooled at the last second by decoys and other countermeasures. The remaining were shot down by the Malgeir’s native close-in defense systems that were now being boosted by superior gravidar sensors aboard the Nile light seconds away.
The enemy convoy was not so lucky. Their sensor signatures disappeared from Grionc’s console, one by one.
“Splash four Forager. No, make that five.”
“Kraken away. We have two more on the way. They’ve gone pitbull.”
“That’s splash six and seven. Can someone confirm number eight?”
“Check. I have number eight.”
“Roger.”
Finally, Captain Vastae turned to Grionc to confirm. “High Fleet Commander, the supply convoy has been destroyed. Looks like the supplies self-destructed too.”
Grionc nodded in acknowledgement, not taking her eyes off the sensor console.
To underscore how common this type of success had become, even the crew’s cheers were subdued. In tonnage, this was no less a victory than it was the first time it was pulled off, but this was a crew who had been there before. They’d seen it. They’d done that.
And there were still the hundreds of enemy combat ships trailing them. Some were getting uncomfortably close to entering their missiles’ maximum powered ranges. None had fired yet; the Znosians were not so undisciplined, but it was close enough to make Grionc nervous.
She nodded at Captain Vastae. “Follow the vector we have been provided towards the systems limit. I don’t want to be one second behind schedule.”

ZNS 2228

Eight Whiskers Skvanu had known from his hatchling-hood that he was different than the others. His educators and caretakers always complained he asked too many questions and never took enough responsibility for his own actions. He learned to suppress the questions and to fake contrition, even when it didn’t make sense, saving those thoughts for the privacy of his own brain. He found this practice useful, and he used it to quickly ascend the totem-pole of rank in the Znosian Navy.
A meritorious society with supposedly transparent accountability, it should not have been so easy for him to breeze past promotion after promotion in his career. But when it was so easy for him to think for himself and simply obscure failures when they occur, his competitors didn’t stand a chance.
That was until he met Ten Whiskers Ditvish.
There, he met not only a kindred soul, but also one who could see right through him. At times, the senior fleet master made him feel like a fraud; at other times, he felt special, as if he’d been given a gift. Under Ditvish, he thrived. He was given more responsibility than normally assigned to regular eight whiskers officers by Ditvish, and here he was proudly commanding the bulk of his fleet.
Skvanu was determined not to let his mentor, and increasingly his confidant, down.
He looked at the sensor panel on his console. They will catch these Lesser Predators.
“Eight Whiskers, we still can’t talk to the Datsot fleet on FTL radio,” his computer officer reported. “I take full responsibility for this continued failure.”
“Don’t worry about it, Six Whiskers,” he replied casually. “We expected this to happen. It must be those Lesser Predators. Either a device on their fleet, or somewhere else hidden in this system. It is truly a war-changing upgrade, in ways that they might not even fully understand. Once we defeat them, we will take apart their wreck bit by bit and chase down every lead until we find it.”
“Yes, Eight Whiskers,” the officer replied. She hesitated for a moment but then decided to speak her mind. “I am— Don’t you find it deeply unsettling to know we are out of contact with the fleet master and— and the rest of the Prophecy?”
He looked up at her, gazing into her frightened eyes. “No, not at all. In fact, I am comforted by the silence. No micromanagement. No orders from above. Just our own wits to survive and win this battle. Full responsibility, for my actions, for all our actions. Today, there is truly no one else to blame.”
“Yes, Eight Whiskers,” she bowed, thankful for his insight and her confidence bolstered by his self-assurance. “That is an enlightening way of thought.”
“Indeed, it is. And besides, we still have our blink relay ships, even if they are slow in getting information through.”
“Yes, Eight Whiskers. Another has just departed with news of the supply losses.”
“Now, tell me what the enemy has done since they rejoined Six Whiskers Mgnats and his ships with the Prophecy,” Skvanu ordered, looking at the console in front of him. The enemy’s three squadrons had taken apart the eight escort ships like they were a knife through water without losing a single ship. It would have been difficult to believe had he not watched it happen through his sensors in real time… Almost real time. The two-hour light speed delay meant that his fleet died before they saw it get engaged. But the fleet was closing on the cursed Lesser Predator ambushers…
“They had been a half leap ahead of us the whole time, but the combat computer evaluates that one of their ships may have been damaged in the… skirmish with Six Whiskers Mgnats.”
Skirmish was an… ambitious word choice, Skvanu thought. Slaughter might have been closer. He prompted, “How did the combat computer come to this assessment?”
“Their acceleration is now slightly but measurably lower than when they went into the fight. It’s about a ten percent reduction. It thinks that one of them sustained minor damage and the rest of the fleet is matching its acceleration profile to mask the identity of the wounded ship.”
Skvanu frowned. “That does not seem right. Is there any evidence that Mgnats’ ships scored a hit on the Lesser Predators?”
“No,” she admitted. “Our sensors saw no debris. But it may be an accident, friendly fire, or some kind of a technical malfunction aboard one of their ships. The combat computer is speculating. But they are moving slower now: that much is clear to the sensors.”
“How does that affect our intercept timeline?”
“Given our current vector and accelerations, we will intercept slightly after they reach the system limit. They will probably attempt to blink out, but all we have to do is observe their blink vector and follow.”
Skvanu nodded. “And at that point, for all the upgrades these Lesser Predators have received, there’s only so much blink fuel they could have retrofitted a combat ship to carry. They can’t have improved their blink range much. Not enough to overcome our two-to-one fuel capacity advantage, at least. Today, the predators shall become our prey.”

Meta

State of war map updated.
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Chapter 52: Just Passing Through

I (29F) built a sandcastle life with my pwBPD husband (29M), and I feel so stupid about it.
He was officially diagnosed around two weeks ago. The events that led up to his psych evaluation were 13 years in the making as it involved me, with the most recent trigger being a psychotic breakdown in the mountains while we were on vacation. It was the scariest thing I have ever been through in my entire life, as I thought he would accidentally kill me. From this point, I was desperate for him to seek help.
As it stands today, I’ve been thrown away. It’s been so depressing coming to grips with the fact that this terrible illness is real and is the cause for the constant havoc, abuse, and dysfunction that’s plagued my life and my kids’ lives for years. He used the state of my despair as an excuse to leave our home and flee another state away to his family’s house, but he’s had one foot in the door and one foot out for a long time. Sometimes he paints me as the villain and I’m accused of being never satisfied and ungrateful. Other times, like most recently, he has at least enough decency to say that he knows everything is all his fault and he doesn’t know how to stop hurting me. I honor my vows and, despite my pain, I have always made room and advocated for therapy to address the many issues we have. But he refuses to “be a victim” to his mental illness and has elected instead to dissolve the marriage. And just like that… my entire life as I knew it is being washed away.
I am numb and afraid. I’m a SAHM with a nursing license thank God, so I always have the ability to go back to work and earn money quickly. But this means a lot of changes and sacrifices for my kids because they enjoy our time together homeschooling. This group has given me encouragement, though, that there’s a new life to be had and healing is possible.

Has anyone successfully convinced their significant others to get evaluated for BPD? I am almost certain that my wife (36f) has it, but I don't want to bring it up because she has split on me and I am her enemy. Married for 10 years, been together for 20 total. I have several posts about her in marriage, but only recently stumbled on BPD and it fits her SPOT ON. She had some horrific points in her childhood and trauma through covid(she's a nurse). And also was terminated from her job for bullying. She also takes Adderall consistently and smokes a lot of weed (1oz+ a month). She has convinced her support group that I am a cheating violent abuser and have never done anything like this. She tells EVERYONE that I will kill her if she divorces me, but she still says she wants a divorce but has not filed for months. She does attend individual therapy, but I believe she may have manipulated that to the point where her therapist thinks I am this person she has created in her mind. I recently got us back into couples therapy to coparent and she is saying the same wild accusations there. We are 2 weeks in and I am hoping that the therapist can shed some light on this. She has already had several melt downs in the sessions. We have 2 kids together, 3 & 9. What would your approach be? I feel like she needs help, but won't ever get it if I bail, and will make for an even harder divorce. Co-parenting has already be a shit show. As of last month we are separated and in 2 separate homes

Just a little vent to follow up my cry on the drive home. 🫠
I'm a charge nurse in a small but very busy CSICU. We stay full with CABGs and valves, regularly have Impellas and IABPs, plus take ECMO and implant LVADs occasionally. Since it's a smaller unit, drama can spiral quickly. The night crew is largely very chill, good team workers, and reasonable. There are, however, a handful of nurses on the day shift who are... less so. When I first started on this unit a few years ago, I actually wasn't sure it was going to be a good fit, because I immediately detected a toxic undercurrent. Some of the nurses are stringent with their charting to the point of mania, and many of them do not chart by exception, but with fill a whole assessment flow sheet with normal findings. Not only that, but they make comments about other nurses' work and charting, and not in a constructive way.
I work the weekend program, nights, and was relentlessly bullied for months by a day shift weekender before she thankfully left. That being said, I'm confident with the care I provide, and I feel I made huge strides during my first year on the unit and managed to meet the extreme expectations of my peers more often than not. I'm really proud of the work we do on the weekends, we hold it down with minimal resources and a skeleton crew.
However, I dread Monday mornings. Monday morning comes around and our arrogant lead surgeon and toxic NPs do formal rounds (the toxic providers are a whole other issue). The NPs can be very difficult to deal with, and I'm glad I only have to do it once a week. Our surgical care coordinator and clinical lead are also present for these rounds, and they both love to nitpick the care that was given overnight/over the weekend, and seemingly love to point out any little "error" they can.
This sort of came to a head this morning when my clinical lead pointed out during rounds that I had failed to put SCDs on my patient, who was up in the chair. He had been up less than 30 minutes and I had gotten him up, stripped and made his bed, then grabbed updates from everyone before going to give charge report to kick off the day shift. I was complaining a bit at the desk, sarcastically asking a coworker if SCDs in the chair weren't more of a tripping hazard than any kind of help. My clinical lead heard me and countered that they are as effective as SubQ hearin. Normally, I'm very non-confrontational, but after what feels like months of of being shit on every Monday morning, I decided to say something. I told her I understood the utility of the SCDs, but felt a little frustrated the she felt the need to tell me during rounds, as the patient hadn't been up long, and it feels a bit reductive that they seemingly search for things to critique every morning. She got a little defensive, and told me that we've had "lots of DVTs lately," and that she was just reminding me. I tried to diffuse her defensiveness, basically telling her that night shift has just been feeling a lot of negative feedback lately despite the fact that we are doing good work. Overall, I left the interaction wishing I hadn't said anything, as I think she feels I was overreacting, and I don't want her opinion of me to be tarnished, because she is in a position of authority on the unit.
I think it all just felt worse as well because of the existing toxicity on the unit. It feels like night shift is happy to roll with the punches, pick up slack, tie up loose ends, etc, but day shift has very little grace to give. This is a sentiment I've heard from almost every night shift staff member. When I was initially being bullied on weekend program (for little nitpicks as well), I tried to discuss some of the negativity with my manager, and she brushed it off, saying that our nurses "hold each other accountable," and we "have high standards" for our care. I feel there's a difference between accountability/high standards and just straight up criticism for the sake of criticism. Not to mention that night shift is expected to do a lot of things that are not reciprocated by day shift. For example, day shift will 100% talk shit if a room isn't fully restocked, but night shift routinely comes in to depleted supplies and messy rooms. We just deal with it, as we all recognize that it's not a huge deal to go grab some supplies at the start of shift. Night shift also completes all baths, weights, linen and line changes, and get patients up to the chair before shift change. The last three hours of the shift are usually crazy because of this.
I love working in critical care and know that I'm a great nurse, but I sometimes feel suffocated by this unit. I've been a nurse for nine years and have worked on hospitals for twelve, and I have never felt this way in a job before. I make great money in this role and love my night crew, I just wish the day shift would lay off sometimes. 😮‍💨

PART ONE THOUSAND AND ELEVEN
[Previous Chapter] [The Beginning] [Patreon+2]
Sunday
“Daaaaddy!”
Levi groaned, for the shouting whine from his bedside dragged him kicking and screaming out of sleep in a way no other alarm could. Only two other sounds garnered a faster reaction from him: someone vomiting right beside him or his baby girl screaming in either pain or fear.
He opened one eye, wondering if someone had ever made an alarm that sounded like either of those last two. Parents everywhere would never sleep in again, so maybe not.
A blurry red-headed vision was so close that he could smell her morning breath as it tickled his nose. “Heeey,” he yawned, pulling away enough to bring her back into focus. “What’s up, Peaches?”
He didn’t recognise the room they were in. Not even a little bit. He sat up fast and looked around, causing Maddy to let out an ‘eep’ of fright. “Daddy! You made some come out!”
And then the events of the night before came crashing in: the party, the knowledge that his roommate was going to have the kind of company Maddy didn’t need to see, the invitation to stay in Luke’s old room, and Maddy’s late-night escapades after he’d dropped like a rock after doing a double shift to make it to the party.
He saw Maddy’s uncomfortable wiggle-dance and the strained look on her face and remembered he’d locked the door. “Oh!” He flew out of bed, scooping her up in the process. If he ended up getting peed on, it was his own fault for not setting an alarm for his baby girl’s tiny bladder.
He unlocked the door and dove around the corner, willing to go through the shut bathroom door if he had to, but thankfully found the room open and vacant. Then he flipped the toilet lid before depositing her on the ground in front of the toilet. He immediately pivoted away, not because he was embarrassed by her but because Maddy had grown old enough not to like him watching her go to the toilet. She was starting to get antsy about her bath, too, but until she could adequately bathe herself and not merely play with her bath toys the whole time, that was a hard ‘don’t care’ line.
“Do you want to have a bath, baby, or wait until we get home?” he asked, crossing the room to hold the door almost shut to prevent anyone else from seeing her either.
“I don’t got clothes, Daddy,” she answered like he was an idiot.
Word choice aside, the sentiment was true. They’d borrowed the shirt she was wearing from Charlie. “Well, we need to figure something out, Peaches, because you are not leaving this house in only a nightgown and no underwear.” He’d send Charlotte out to buy her some clothes if he had to.
He heard the toilet flush and Maddy move up behind him, and turned long before she could touch him. “Three guesses what I didn’t hear, young lady?” he asked with a paternal frown. He pointed at the vanity when she looked up at him without a clue.
“But I can’t reach!”
“Then what are you supposed to do?”
Her shoulders slumped. “Daddy, c’n you help?”
He then smiled. “Better.” He put a hand on top of her head and spun her towards the vanity before guiding her forward. After they crossed the room, he loosened the faucet without turning it on and curled his hands around her waist, lifting her high enough that she could lean over the sink. She washed her hands, rinsing them thoroughly, then scooped the water and let it fall over the faucet before turning it off. Not that water alone would wash away the ‘germs’ of the initial contact, but the sentiment was there. Her mother had been a nurse, after all.
“Is Mister Larry still here?”
“I don’t know, baby. But how about we go and see if we can track down either Aunty Charlotte or Robbie and figure out where we’re at, okay?”
“We’re in Uncle Luke’s and Aunty Charlotte’s home,” she said, again like he was an idiot.
That had been a rather stupid thing to say to a three-and-a-half-year-old. “Alright, Miss Smarty-pants. And what are we going to eat for breakfast in Uncle Luke and Aunty Charlotte’s home if we can’t find them to ask them, hmm?”
“Food, silly.”
Clearly, he was going to have to up his game in parental rhetorical questions. Gone were the days when she’d take him at his word, and she was only three. Thirteen was going to be fun. “Right,” he muttered, shaking his head as he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.
While holding Maddy’s hand, he peeked in the open door across the hall from the bathroom and saw a very plain bedroom in terms of the rest of the apartment’s décor. At first, he’d thought it was a guest room until he remembered the teenage kid Robbie had recently adopted. This was probably his room.
He’d seen Charlotte and Robbie’s room the day they moved Charlotte in here, so a quick glance to confirm the room was empty was all he needed on that score. That left two doors on the right. And since both were close together, with the one on the left barely a couple of feet from the other and the front wall separating the living room, Levi was willing to assume the second one was a half-bath or a powder room or something. He went to the second door and knocked.
“Yeah?” Mason called from inside.
Levi opened the door and poked his head inside. “Hey, you wouldn’t by any chance happen to know where Robbie or Charlotte are, would you?”
Mason was at his desk, drowning in paperwork, it seemed. “Robbie, no,” he said, shaking his head. "As for Charlie, I’d try her office next door, between us and Boyd’s studio. She has a massive garage refit happening soon, so last I checked, she was in there getting things ready.”
The emphasis on his sister’s preferred name wasn’t lost on him. A sharp, jarring motion to his right caught his eye, and he saw something that really belonged in a space program somewhere.
“What the hell is that?” he demanded, ducking down low enough to see Robbie’s adoptee with his eyes glued on whatever was going on overhead and his fingers typing in a blur of speed.
“Naughty word, Daddy!”
Mason snickered at Levi’s slow blink. “It’s a gaming system courtesy of Robbie’s family. The damn thing is very addictive, though, and I haven’t told Brock that there’s a screen you pull down from inside the headset to cover your eyes that takes the game into 3D playing.”
Levi whistled. “I don’t even want to know how much that costs.”
“I know, and this Sectra table here is up there too,” Mason agreed, gesturing at the electronic display beside him. “But it certainly makes learning a lot more fun.” He tilted his head forward. “Isn’t that right, bunny?”
Bunny?
Maddy leaned into Levi’s leg, but she was grinning ear to ear when she nodded. “I wanna be a vert when I grow up,” she declared, looking up at him.
“Vet, baby,” Mason corrected. “We’re vets. Sounds like “bet’ and ‘get’ and ‘set’.”
“Vet,” Maddy repeated.
“There ya’ go. Step one is getting the name right.” He glanced up at Levi, his cheeky grin on full display. “Step two is getting Daddy to save up for the rest of his life to pay for the classes.”
“I hate you,” Levi whisper-smirked, and Mason pursed his lips in a cocky air-kiss.
Still shaking his head, Levi waved at Mason and left the room, leading Maddy through the kitchen and living room and into the hallway outside. For so many years, his baby brother and their friends had crushed themselves into that ninth-floor horror show, and no amount of pleading from everyone would budge Luke. Not pressure from their parents nor peer guilt from his brothers, who refused to bring their families over to the cramped space.
Charlo—Charlie was the only one who visited regularly, and at the time, he’d put it down to her being skinny, single with no kids, so she could squeeze into whatever gap she found. He knew who she was really visiting now, and Robbie had better be ready for the mother of all guilt trips coming from the family to make an honest woman of their sister. Nascerdios descended or not, he’d be a dead man if he broke her heart.
Thinking about his little brother’s relationship with all these men, it was like Luke knew the payoff was just around the corner. People like them didn’t live like this.
Well, Maverick kind of did, but he’d worked hard for what he had and could rattle off his list of sporting injuries to prove it. Robbie and Sam had simply taken a running dive off the world’s highest diving platform and landed in the kind of wealth the rich and shameless could only dream about.
Luke—Lucas was lucky in a different way. Yes, his friendship with Robbie and Sam had certainly opened the right doors financially, but what Levi had seen of Boyd’s work yesterday, the big guy was well on his way to becoming his own type of rich; much like Mav did for his family. And like Marley, Lu—ucas wouldn’t have to work a day again in his life if he didn’t want to. (Though he had just made detective and loved his job, so Levi couldn’t see him quitting anytime soon.)
He knocked on the closed door. “Come in,” Charlie called, proving Mason right. And like Mason, she was sitting behind a desk covered in paperwork with a phone cradled against her shoulder.
“Aunty Charlotte, we’re hungry!” Maddy declared, and Levi closed his eyes to hide from his sister’s evil chuckle.
“Well, we can’t have that, sweetie,” she said, and he heard the phone click as it was dropped onto the receiver. "Daddy gets very grumpy when he’s hungry.”
“It’s not the only reason he gets cranky,” he said, opening one eye a slit to give his baby sister the stink eye.
Charlie cackled and slid out from behind her desk. “C’mon. Robbie has your breakfast all ready for you in Voila.”
“We didn’t want to start going through things and guessing what we could eat,” Levi explained as they backtracked to the main apartment.
“That’s fine. Grab a seat—any seat,” she said, gesturing to the line of kitchen barstool chairs as she moved through the living room. She headed around the island and over to the box under the window without checking if they had.
Levi wasn’t thrilled about the height of the barstool chairs off the floor. “Do you have a belt or something I could use to tie Maddy in?”
Charlie swung around to him. “Oh! Oh, yeah! Hold on.” She slipped around the island and down her side of the apartment, coming back from her room with the kind of square booster seats that could be found in a restaurant. “Robbie ducked out and got this for her this morning.”
Levi scratched his head as the booster was attached to the second chair along the front of the island. “Where’d he get that from at this hour?”
Charlie looked at him derisively. “This is Robbie, bro. You know he’s got connections all over the place.”
It killed Levi not to ask for more details, but given it was probably either connected to the Nascerdios or, more likely, a wealthy former client in the city that still looked favourably upon Robbie, he hadn’t wanted Maddy to overhear the specifics of the latter. Too many times, his little girl had asked Robbie about different ‘gifts’ he’d been given by clients and how she had wanted to do whatever he did to get presents like that. ‘Over my dead body’ had been his mental declaration.
Maddy was pulling on his boxers. “Up, Daddy,” she said, holding her hands over her head for him.
Levi lifted her into the seat, and then buckled her in. In the meantime, Charlie went back to that wooden box, lifting the lid. “Robbie has this gift with food, so assume everything in the place is for you to eat, because it probably is.”
“Not everything,” Levi countered at Maddy’s wild squeal of delight. He gave her hand a firm squeeze. “Do not take anything without asking, young lady, or you’ll be in big trouble.”
“But Daddy…”
“It’s Daddy’s call, Maddy,” Charlie said, backing his play. She turned, holding a plate with two fist-sized Minnie Mouse-shaped waffles (the bow between the ears made it Minnie) with some type of white marshmallow fluff spread across them and a honey drizzle that drew perfect facial features on each. “Here’s breakfast for one cute-as-a-button Dobson,” she said with a flourish, sliding the plate in front of Maddy and pulling out a children’s stubby fork from the cutlery drawer.
“It’ll have to be cut u—” The words died in Levi’s throat as Maddy stabbed the nearest piece, and it broke into a small, bite-sized piece that Maddy happily popped into her mouth.
“Imma bi’ ’irl,” she said, in and around her food.
Levi tapped her nose. “Big girls don’t talk with their mouths full, Peaches.”
When he glanced at Charlie, she’d gone back to the box and returned with a dinner plate of fluffy scrambled eggs on two pieces of toast with cheese and bacon, and three sausages cut almost in half longways on the side. She nodded at the seat beside Maddy, then slid the plate into the empty spot at the end. “Siddown, bro.”
He might have whimpered a little on the first bite as Charlie went and poured them both a glass (technically, Maddy got a plastic tumbler) of citrus juice (not orange), leaving the jug on the bench between them. “Help yourselves to as much juice as you want. Even if you wipe this whole jug out, there's plenty more.”
“This is really awesome, Charlie. Thanks.”
Charlie placed her hand on her brother’s shoulder as she moved around the island into the hallway. “Anytime, Levi. But now I’ve gotta love you and leave you. There’s a mountain of work to get through in my office, so are you good here?”
“Totally. Thanks again, sis.”
As she walked out the door, Maddy held out a piece of her waffle to him. “Try?”
Waffles were usually too sweet for his blood, but this was the game he’d set up with her a long time ago to make her at least attempt to eat new foods. He couldn’t very well expect her to eat what he wanted her to if, now and again, he didn’t reciprocate the motion.
The honey and marshmallow whip (which tasted nothing like the jar-bought type) melted into the perfectly heated/not-too-hot waffle, giving it a sweet crunch as if it had just come out of the waffle iron. His surprise must have been written all over his face, for Maddy giggled, and he grinned. “That’s yummy.”
“Mmmm-hmmm,” she hummed, just as he always had when a new food passed the initial taste test.
* * *
((All comments welcome. Good or bad, I’d love to hear your thoughts 🥰🤗))
I made a family tree/diagram of the Mystallian family that can be found here
For more of my work, including WPs: Angel466 or an index of previous WPS here.
FULL INDEX OF BOB THE HOBO TO DATE CAN BE FOUND HERE!!

Had my CnP few weeks ago and finally saw my DBQs. Long story short, I had 2 examiners in the room evaluating me and filling out the DBQs.Now, I have 2 DBQs one from each examiners uploaded with my claim. For example, thoracolumbar has 2 DBQs signed by the 2 Nurse Practitioner who gave 2 different opinions. One was very detailed with ROM that would fall into 20% and the other was not so great with filling out the DBQ and ROM would fall into the 10%. How will the rater view the 2 different DBQs? If it matters this is a BDD Claim and both were from Optum. Has anyone experienced something similar?

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