I guess there's only so many times one can try this... Maybe this is the last time before the next time? :D
Caring, considerate and affectionate guy here. Looking for someone who is most of the time devil may care but can be super serious if need be. This is how I am. Super fun but not wreckless!
I'm open for it to be casual but would prefer something that at least has the potential to become more. As long as it is stated I'm happy for it to stay casual, so we both know what bus we are getting on.
IT guy by day and musician by night. Mostly guitar and sing but I play piano and drums also. So musical people definitely have an advantage but not vital.
I'm interesting and funny (I like to think so and have been complimented many times). My friends would describe me as caring, considerate and honest. I'm also in very good shape. No dad bods here, sorry to disappoint. People never believe my age when I tell them.
I'd like you to be on reasonable shape or at least working towards it. Sorry it's just my preference. Have interesting enough conversation in you. I'm very good at leading it but I can't be attracted to just a pretty shell.
I'm not much for online dating, the idea of people posting almost pseudo photos of themselves to raise the statistics are laughable. But no risk no reward.
Let's see how many actually get in touch. Real people that is. If you take a chance to chat and get to know me I promise you won't be disappointed. Just friends is totally ok too, we can just see how it goes. I'm a good guy :D
Open to anyone 18+ as long as you don't mind my age. I always get mistaken to be in my early 20s.
If you are someone who wants to be adored, admired and worshipped please get in touch.
Location can be trivial, more than willing to chat to people in other countries. Let me know what your favourite Pixar movie is and why. Maybe also include what your warning label would be if you had one?
P.S. Please do not respond if you don't have the EQ or courtesy to be honest. No ghosting also. Please respect this fully.

What happened when I came out to my ex
So we were introduce by a Kendra Lee Taylor (filler generic name) (her at the time best friend), and she was Jessica Lilly Wilson (another filler generic name) . And this is what happened
Sooo. For one, I'm transgender. (Mtf), and I was with my abusive ex (cis woman), since literally high-school. We were together for a long time, I told her I would ".Wear women's clothes, and fantasize about being a woman. And for some reason dressing as one in private helped me cope sometimes." I also had expressed that sometimes it would cause me to get turned on (what the trans community later described as 'euphoria erections'). She didn't mind, atleast she said she didn't, she said she thought it was sexy, she liked a 'guy in touch with his feminine side' ,and she was bisexual anyways. I had coped with my gender issues (which i didn't fully realize were gender issues due to upbringing) , by just having these private escapes, often with her as an audience. She turned it more and more sexual though. Often whenever I was just relaxing in fem clothes she ALWAYS progressed it to sex. Now I had a bit of a 'being dominated' fetish I'm not gonna lie. But often she wanted me to do things I thought were really.gross. like making me sit in our sex juices, or sit with my own ejaculate on myself. She had a weird and honestly sick fetish for stuff like that. Specific to males in panties. And I kinda just coped with life with the mentality of " well I get to have the family the 'good Christian kid' and his high-school sweetheart. And my mother will one day look at grand babies and love the hell out of em, and that'll make all this worth it. Also I want to clarify, Post transition (so as a woman) I would be a lesbian. I've never been attracted to men. Another reason why my gender issues confused me so much. I also ALWAYS was just as honest with my partner (my abuser), as I was with myself at any given time in regards to this issue. So its not like I was a total closet case to my at the time gf. Sadly my mother got really sick. And no. She didn't make it. She went rather fast. It was devastating, tbh we had a more matriarchal system in our household, despite our father being a religious zealot. She ran the home, and he normally caved to what she wanted. I became so deeply depressed I was going to genuinely kill myself. Eventually one day I just told my partner, " I need to explore my fem side and figure out what this gender issue is, and I need to fully explore it, to see if my feminine side is just latent desires I couldn't act on when younger or if I was actually trans. " she VERY reluctantly , and angrily one day took me to get some clothes of my own. A padded bra, multiple women's underwear, and some thigh highs, and agreed to let me continue to borrow some of her stuff, until I got more items. We began exploring. Well I did, she kept trying to fetishize it, and when I told her no, or when I stayed dressed even after sex. She would get beyond huffy with me. She started getting more and more mean to me as I continued to explore in a non sexualized way. I eventually one night extremely scared and sobbing, told her I was trans and there was nothing anyone could do to fix it. So I braced for impact, expecting her to break up with me. I was astounded she said " There is nothing wrong with you, its the 2020s, and people are becoming more accepting now." I was terrified, knowing my dad was never gonna accept it, and my brothers were a coin toss, though I knew my.younger one most likely wouldn't care. And I didn't think my older one really would either but still. Hiwever as I continued in my path to coming out as a transwoman. She got more and more verbally and maliciously abusive, she sabotaged things I was beginning to try, she berated me constantly and even tried to delay my coming out. I eventually started dressing as a woman full time, except at work. And around my bio family. I started hrt in private, except my partner and her parents knew. (She was my abuser not my partner). She turned from a sweet borderline feminist, and fairly sensible liberal gal, to an irl reddit cringelord for lack of a better term. She started taking these really jacked up takes, that she never espoused before, and calling me names like " gender retard". I kept pleading with her to stop, that if she wanted to break up we just could, I'd need some time to find a place, but everything could be amicable (btw I was clear that this option always was on the table), and It was ok if she didn't wanna stay alot of couples split after a transition and that doesn't make you a bigot. But if you want to keep trying, please stop mistreating me. Several of my friends had wanted me to dump her for how she was acting. But I foolishly believed she loved me and was just having a hard time. But eventually she dumped me and at the worst time, I had lost a job , got a new job, and had to leave it for safety reasons and was basically financially dependent on her, despite wanting to leave but needing an exit strategy. She turned our new apartment (after we fled her parents house) into a horror house. I still to this day have nightmares of waking up on the couch with her about to walk through the door. The abuse was horrible. At one point comongntoca head with her brutally beating me black and blue. I didnt fight back. Within a few weeks I was on sidewalks. We had a savings account that I had helped build for over SEVEN years. And it was in her name. And she kept all of it. I was homeless and still technically am. But am housed. I don't know how to have peace. I see her when I close my eyes. I hear her insults in my head. And I'm STILL recovering from her financial abuse. What do I do? Please...

Maintaining good kidney health can feel overwhelming, especially with so much conflicting information available. After being diagnosed with early signs of kidney dysfunction, I embarked on a journey to find reliable resources and guidance. Thankfully, I stumbled upon The Kidney Solution, a downloadable program promising a natural approach to kidney health improvement.
A Holistic Approach to Kidney Support
The Kidney Solution goes beyond simply listing foods to avoid. The program offers a comprehensive approach that incorporates dietary modifications, lifestyle changes, and natural remedies to support optimal kidney function. I appreciated the in-depth explanations of how different foods and habits impact kidney health, empowering me to make informed choices.
Accessible and Easy-to-Follow Information
The program is delivered in downloadable modules, including informative e-books, video tutorials, and meal plans. The information is presented in a clear and concise manner, making it easy to understand and implement the program's recommendations. The downloadable format allows me to access the materials at my convenience and revisit specific sections as needed.
Empowering Dietary Changes
The Kidney Solution emphasizes the importance of a kidney-friendly diet. The program provides detailed meal plans and recipes rich in essential nutrients and low in elements that can burden the kidneys. I found the recipes to be delicious and surprisingly easy to prepare, making it enjoyable to incorporate the dietary changes into my lifestyle.
Lifestyle Modifications for Long-Term Health
Beyond diet, The Kidney Solution addresses the importance of exercise, stress management, and proper hydration for kidney health. The program includes practical recommendations on incorporating these elements into my daily routine, creating a holistic approach to kidney support.
Noticeable Improvements and Increased Confidence
Since using The Kidney Solution, I've experienced a positive impact on my overall well-being. My blood work has shown improvement in kidney function markers, and I feel more energized throughout the day. More importantly, the program has empowered me with the knowledge and tools to take control of my kidney health and manage it effectively in the long term.
A Valuable Resource for Kidney Health
If you're looking for a reliable and informative resource to support your kidney health, The Kidney Solution is an excellent option. The program's comprehensive approach, accessible format, and emphasis on practical lifestyle changes make it a valuable tool for anyone concerned about their kidney health. Remember, The Kidney Solution is not a replacement for professional medical advice, but it can be a powerful resource to complement your existing treatment plan and empower you to take charge of your kidney health journey.
tunesharemore_vert

Upload an image

This prompt requires an image that you need to add. Tap the image button to upload an image.Got it

Do you need a little help with this prompt?

Power up your prompt and Gemini will expand it to get you better resultsGot it
expand_contentadd_photo_alternatephoto_cameramicsend
Gemini may display inaccurate info, including about people, so double-check its responses. Your prMaintaining good kidney health can feel overwhelming, especially with so much conflicting information available. After being diagnosed with early signs of kidney dysfunction, I embarked on a journey to find reliable resources and guidance. Thankfully, I stumbled upon The Kidney Solution, a downloadable program promising a natural approach to kidney health improvement.
A Holistic Approach to Kidney Support
The Kidney Solution goes beyond simply listing foods to avoid. The program offers a comprehensive approach that incorporates dietary modifications, lifestyle changes, and natural remedies to support optimal kidney function. I appreciated the in-depth explanations of how different foods and habits impact kidney health, empowering me to make informed choices.
Accessible and Easy-to-Follow Information
The program is delivered in downloadable modules, including informative e-books, video tutorials, and meal plans. The information is presented in a clear and concise manner, making it easy to understand and implement the program's recommendations. The downloadable format allows me to access the materials at my convenience and revisit specific sections as needed.
Empowering Dietary Changes
The Kidney Solution emphasizes the importance of a kidney-friendly diet. The program provides detailed meal plans and recipes rich in essential nutrients and low in elements that can burden the kidneys. I found the recipes to be delicious and surprisingly easy to prepare, making it enjoyable to incorporate the dietary changes into my lifestyle.
Lifestyle Modifications for Long-Term Health
Beyond diet, The Kidney Solution addresses the importance of exercise, stress management, and proper hydration for kidney health. The program includes practical recommendations on incorporating these elements into my daily routine, creating a holistic approach to kidney support.
Noticeable Improvements and Increased Confidence
Since using The Kidney Solution, I've experienced a positive impact on my overall well-being. My blood work has shown improvement in kidney function markers, and I feel more energized throughout the day. More importantly, the program has empowered me with the knowledge and tools to take control of my kidney health and manage it effectively in the long term.
A Valuable Resource for Kidney Health
If you're looking for a reliable and informative resource to support your kidney health, The Kidney Solution is an excellent option. The program's comprehensive approach, accessible format, and emphasis on practical lifestyle changes make it a valuable tool for anyone concerned about their kidney health. Remember, The Kidney Solution is not a replacement for professional medical advice, but it can be a powerful resource to complement your existing treatment plan and empower you to take charge of your kidney health journey.

Really struggling emotionally with what my experience is “labeled”. I know physical abuse, I know emotional abuse. Is this considered sexual abuse?
THE ABUSE: My father loved to spank. It was almost like a sport to him, he would literally aim and move his hand in certain ways right before hitting as if he was warming up. He used his hand, but a lot of the times a belt was used. We had a dedicated spanking room in our house. He also loved to humiliate and embarrass.
This is where it’s very painful. There were times when my father would rip down our pants and underwear or lift up our dress/nightgown to remove underwear. Or sometimes he would order us to do it ourselves. He would use either his hand or a belt on our bare bottoms.
There was one instance that I remember that was insanely traumatic for me. I was showering with my little sister. I was around 8 years old and I was insanely insecure about my body. I didn’t want anyone seeing my body. All of a sudden we hear my father BANGING on the door screaming in a rage. I wrapped up in a towel and opened the door. He jerked me across the room into the bedroom, ripped the towel off my body, told me to put my hands on the bed (part of his spanking ritual) and beat me while I was completely nude. I remember feeling so confused and absolutely beyond violated and embarrassed. The most heartbreaking part was that I did nothing “wrong”, he was just mad and I was there to take his anger out. I still remember looking over at my little sister, nude with her hands on the bed, staring into space waiting for her beating.
I also recall another strange incident around the same age. I was showering (glass shower) and all of a sudden I hear “hey Jane”, I look over and he’s in the corner of the bathroom. I scream and cover my body, and he laughs and leaves.
THE EFFECTS: At this age (8) is when I began to experience issues with my bladder, specifically paruresis (shy bladder syndrome). I could no longer pee in a public restroom if someone was nearby. It got very bad in high school, my mother would have to pick me up from school to pee at home. It got to the point where I still couldn’t pee when I got home, and my mother would have to leave the house in order for me to pee. I began to have other health issues as a teenager, and two doctors asked if I had ever experienced sexual abuse. This is the first time I had questioned my past.
Once I hit my 20s and moved away from home, I began having nightmares of people trying to remove my clothes, or someone trying to pull a blanket off of me while I’m nude underneath. I always feel like people are looking at my ass. My hips sway forward and I clench my butt cheeks sometimes if someone is standing behind me. I’m now 25, and the years of constantly denying and ignoring my past have officially taken full effect. My abuse is all I think about. I am now in therapy beginning the healing process.

https://imgur.com/gallery/4aT3PZK got a ics cxp yak cqb S1 a with everything needed to go out and play.
Aeg is in pristine condition as it's only been fielded twice.
Only selling cuz i want to hpa it and the ics split gb makes it damn near impossible for me cuz i dont have the know how to get it done.

• clean aeg in original box with all paper work, buffer tube tool, 2 extra fuses and dejammer stick.

It is 100% stock and runs great. Did do a aoe correction, shim job and regreased by a shop tech 10/10 body [*paid about $395 with tax on evike]

• new goggles with microfiber cover(used once) cuz my square prescription glasses didn't fit) with 2 extra lenses(still in og wrap in og microfiber puch) yellow and smoke ( can be worn over eye glasses with round frames[comes with glasses attachment] with og pamphlet. [*paid $30 on Amazon]
  
• new mesh mask with ear mesh protection in og bag(used in only in 3 short games ). [*paid $20 on Amazon]
  
• 2 ics 300rd hi cap mags (one brand new other only used in 2 full day skirmish). [*paid $30 for extra mag on evike]
  
• half a 5k count .25 elite force bbs. [*paid $27 on evike(but about $10 since half gone]
  

-3 sealed 5000rd .28 elite force bio bottles just [*paid $23 each( about $75 with tax n ship) on apr 12th at local shop]
-3 sealed 1000rd .25 elite force tracer rds bought apr 15th *[paid $18 each at local shop(about $65)]

• turnigy or tenergy charger (see pix)(used twice). [*Paid $35 on online hobby store]
  
• 2 11.1v lipos in deans (with deans to tamiya adapter).. 1 3000mah titan new, 1 1200mah turnigy nano-tech lipo (used 2 full day skirmish). [*Titan was $40 on Amazon, turnigy was $22 on same online shop with charger]
  

-ZEE lipo safe charging bag [*paid $15 on Amazon]

• feyachi RDS-22 2moa red dot(used once) with 3 fresh batteries and microcloth plus allen keys still in wrapper with og pamphlet.*[paid $45 on Amazon] Also have a pair ox XL paintball pants by JT. Great condition.

Willing to sell aeg with mags
Will throw in a battery and half bottle of .25g(about 2800rds)
Another link to see pics and description
https://e-tactical.store/en/series-m4/7229-ics-electric-rifle-cxp-yak-cqb-s1-tan-ic-413t.html
Aeg $350 with 1 battery and half 5000rd elite force .25g bbs
Or everything for $550 since everything is is basically new. Thanks for reading this short novel 🙏 lmk

I (35M - UK) married my wife (24F - Thai) about a year ago. When we met she was moderately underweight, and it was having some health implications - low energy, trouble with prolonged activity, visible bone structure, irregular period, etc. She used to work 6 day a week as waitress for $10 a day (+tips) - so I shrugged it off as money\poverty problem.
Since coming to the UK, I’ve encouraged her to eat a normal amount of food, she doesn’t work and as a result she has put on lil’ bit of weight on - reaching a healthy weight and size. Being that healthy weight does mean her face is little rounder and no longer a completely flat belly. Honestly the is the best she is ever looked, with a more curvy femine figure and most importantly none of the health issues I described above.
This has destroyed her self esteem. Every photo has to be heavily edited (she likes to make social media content) and she hates looking at herself in the mirror. The final straw was yesterday she posted a video and at least two of “friends” called her fat. Then on her way to school, an older Chinese woman she has English class with asked if she was pregnant.
She revealed she is unhappy and that her body is always on her mind - something she fixates on for hours each day. She kept showing me photos of when she was a teenager that she wants to return to. Crying her eyes out over clothes that don’t fit and constantly poking and prodding her body. She came out with some scary comments about wanting to self harm because she is not skinny anymore.
She now wants to declare a war on food, returning to the 1k-1.5k calorie intake and intense exercise regime until all fat is gone from her body. Coupled with a nose job and face restructuring when next in Thailand. This is very clearly body dysmorphia.
As a compromise, I offered to help by doing more exercise together and eat healthier - but that I disagreed with the dieting and that exercise should not be done with the sole intention of becoming skinny.
I feel conflicted, as her husband I want to be happy AND healthy. These two ideals are now at odds with each other. She is upset I’m not supporting her to become anorexic again.
Everything is made much harder as she still in the process of learning English. We can have conversations but it’s really hard to communicate complex issues.
Is there any way out of this? How can I support her build self esteem without her becoming unhealthy?
Poking around online - there does seem to be cultural difference with Asian’s being particularly obsessed with skinniness. Do any expats have similar experiences? - What helped?
Is there any good influencers or role models I can recommend?
In particular not the obese body positive influencers but just normal sized, healthy body fat and beautiful (ideally Asian\thai) that I could recommend. I think decoupling skinny = beauty would long way. I’m conscious social media seems to have this obsession with gym is answer to all that may just take things to a different dark place.
Is there an easy way to debunk the less calories is healthier and that smaller you are, the healthier you are. Females in particular are supposed to have some body fat.
I feel like there is me, the voice of reason on one side, then the full weight of social media and toxic friends on the other dragging her into a hole.
Finally, how best to tell her friends back the f*** off.

I don't think it's loud enough.
If you account and adjust for inflation by all means this should reach $1289.00
What's it called when you try to buy shares and it won't execute because of a delay? Do you call it, The Hood Trade?
The loudest thing I hear, like a deafening drum banging in my ear, is the notion that housing prices rose because there is a strangle on supply and on top of all that, interest rates went up to a crushing point. A wildly growing amount of people can't afford to repurchase the homes they live in. Not only, are people not leaving their homes because of old locked in interest rates; they aren't leaving because there is nothing available out there.
And the response to it is, we can't lower the interest rates because of the price of jeans/pants and higher rent.
The rent thing is puzzling because how can you lower rent if you just caused the person giving the rent a higher interest rate. It seems that it's actually a motivating factor to increase the rent when you now have to borrow money at a higher rate.
You see, the initial inflation came from the lack of supply because of the pandemic and the saving of cash from staying home. Surely, that situation is no longer in the market. I mean sure, I still can't get that GH200 from Jensen but other than that there are eggs and toilette paper in the grocery store last time I checked.
Inflation at this moment is from pure greed but the punishment isn't on those entities; it's on us.
The mechanism to calm inflation has no ability to target aspects that are causing it other than the crippling of the individual person and family.
The hawkish talk is enough. You're yelling at the wrong folk. Regular folk aren't causing inflation. It's out of control but all I see are mom and pop shops closing. Lol before we saw institutions and banks fall. Now, it's your local convenience store and barber shop going under.
https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/2024/03/30/commercial-real-estate-2024-loans/
If you want to know - what was the cause this time. Well, it's going to be that. Seems like we're at the, almost all out of the pushovers & suckers phase.
At what point in history did someone ever say, hey you know what that inflation lowered and I think I can lower your rent now by ahhh $500. Ask a New Yorker when that ever occurred.
Now is not the time to regulate and tariff things. Now is the time to empower regular folk and allow them to compete with less regulation, easier access to loans and game the system that has worked against them to our benefit. I'll stop it on that note.

it sounds just as weird as it is. i’ve been going to this shop since i was very little, i’ve always lived here and for years going there was a daily thing. i haven’t had a history of stealing, using fake money or being disrespectful. EVER. there’s nothing for them to use against me to need to check. but the weird thing is i’ve only seen it happen to me and only when i’m in my normal clothes
i wouldn’t say i’m enough but i do definitely dress a little like it. constantly in band shirts, cargos/black jeans and black boots or my converse. nothing to extreme, no big eyeliner,excessive jewellery or cool hairstyles and colours. apart from my clothes i look like a very friendly young lady.i do tend to keep my headphones on which has become a running joke between me and another worker there who i’m very close with. but everyone apart from him obsessively check my money every time i wear my usual clothes.
i don’t think i’m doing anything to warrant them obsessively checking my money. i try my best to hold a conversation despite my anxiety and speech issues, i always ask how their day is and if i don’t have the energy for that i’ll always at least ask how they are. i try my best to be as polite as possible as that’s how i was raised to be but despite all of that they check only my money every time
but this isn’t the case when i’m in my school uniform, the workers who usually avoid conversation are very chatty,never once have i gotten money checked when i wear my uniform, they always smile back and ask how my day is.
i don’t wear anything to extreme it’s very toned down but i still just don’t get why me and why not when i’m in my uniform:(

Really struggling emotionally with what my experience is “labeled”. I know physical abuse, I know emotional abuse. Is this considered sexual abuse?
THE ABUSE: My father loved to spank. It was almost like a sport to him, he would literally aim and move his hand in certain ways right before hitting as if he was warming up. He used his hand, but a lot of the times a belt was used. We had a dedicated spanking room in our house. He also loved to humiliate and embarrass.
This is where it’s very painful. There were times when my father would rip down our pants and underwear or lift up our dress/nightgown to remove underwear. Or sometimes he would order us to do it ourselves. He would use either his hand or a belt on our bare bottoms.
There was one instance that I remember that was insanely traumatic for me. I was showering with my little sister. I was around 8 years old and I was insanely insecure about my body. I didn’t want anyone seeing my body. All of a sudden we hear my father BANGING on the door screaming in a rage. I wrapped up in a towel and opened the door. He jerked me across the room into the bedroom, ripped the towel off my body, told me to put my hands on the bed (part of his spanking ritual) and beat me while I was completely nude. I remember feeling so confused and absolutely beyond violated and embarrassed. The most heartbreaking part was that I did nothing “wrong”, he was just mad and I was there to take his anger out. I still remember looking over at my little sister, nude with her hands on the bed, staring into space waiting for her beating.
I also recall another strange incident around the same age. I was showering (glass shower) and all of a sudden I hear “hey Jane”, I look over and he’s in the corner of the bathroom. I scream and cover my body, and he laughs and leaves.
THE EFFECTS: At this age (8) is when I began to experience issues with my bladder, specifically paruresis (shy bladder syndrome). I could no longer pee in a public restroom if someone was nearby. It got very bad in high school, my mother would have to pick me up from school to pee at home. It got to the point where I still couldn’t pee when I got home, and my mother would have to leave the house in order for me to pee. I began to have other health issues as a teenager, and two doctors asked if I had ever experienced sexual abuse. This is the first time I had questioned my past.
Once I hit my 20s and moved away from home, I began having nightmares of people trying to remove my clothes, or someone trying to pull a blanket off of me while I’m nude underneath. I always feel like people are looking at my ass. My hips sway forward and I clench my butt cheeks sometimes if someone is standing behind me. I’m now 25, and the years of constantly denying and ignoring my past have officially taken full effect. My abuse is all I think about. I am now in therapy beginning the healing process.
If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading and listening.

I (25 NB) met my friend (26 NB) at work, we have the same position at work and usually end up paired with each other. We get along great and have a lot of similar interests. I’ve given them rides home from work a lot cause we live near each other, and I thought we’d developed a strong friendship. They’ve worked at the company a little longer than I have, I’ve been working there since August. We’ve only been friends really since Januaryish when I got promoted.
Anyways they kept requesting we hang out together outside of work, I didn’t see this as odd because we’ve hung out together outside of work as a friend group, I have many friends at my job and we usually do group outings or parties, so it wasn’t odd to me that they wanted to hang out. The day they wanted to go out, none of my roommates were available to go with. 2 out of 3 of my roommates (25 M, 23 F and 25 M) work at the same business. So I went with them on my own, they seemed ecstatic that it was just the 2 of us. I picked them up and we initially just planned to go to the mall. We walked around, talked, bought stuff and eventually had lunch.
They kept staring at me which I found awkward but figured because we’re both autistic that I was uncomfortable with the eye contact or they just happen to make a lot of eye contact. They also keep walking really close to me and “accidentally” bumping my hand. After the mall they still wanted to hang out so we went to the thrift store and had a lot of fun making fun of the silly knick knacks, we both love Fallout New Vegas so they were looking for a jacket that looked like Benny Geckos from the game.
After that they still wanted to keep hanging out, at this point I was pretty tired but figured we were having fun. It’s hard for me to say no, and I use a cane for chronic pain so I usually need to take a frequent number of breaks which we hadn’t done yet but they hadn’t picked up that I was tired yet. I was having fun and at this point they did apologize about keeping me out for so long, I said it’s ok because I like long friendship hangout days, which is not a lie, my body just doesn’t enjoy it as much.
Next we went to get boba and they bought me a drink, at this point they had paid for none of my stuff, we split the food earlier and I lightheartedly threatened them to not spend money on me. When we were in the boba shop, they once again kept staring and moving their hand towards mine. I deterred this because it made me uncomfortable by talking with my hands which I usually do anyways. They were nice and listened to me infodump to them about tmnt (tmnts my special interest) but still continued their staring. I kept getting in my head that they were just being nice and I was ruining things thinking that they had ulterior motives.
I forgot to mention that they have a boyfriend (27 M), but they had offhandingly mentioned that they were poly. We then went to a gaming shop to look at dnd and pathfinder stuff, I had to pee incredibly badly at this point but they ignored my subtle pleas to leave, which understandably was my fault as I said I could hold it at the boba shop.
At this point I’m exhausted and in a lot of pain so I suggested we end our hang out after finding a bathroom. They still insisted on hanging out longer so I suggested they come to my apartment cause at this point I’d run out of stuff for us to do. This is where things got a bit uncomfy. My roommates were all home at this point but all left briefly to go pick up food. My roommate who I share a room with requested I don’t bring my friend into our room while she was in there, but gave me the go ahead to show them our room once she and my other roommates left to get their food.
I like showing my friends my collections whenever they come over so I saw no inappropriate reason to do the same. I have some Dnd, Fallout and Tmnt stuff I wanted to show them. I did my normal showing off my stuff thing. At some point I walked them over to my desk to show them my figurines, my desk is in a corner by my closet and bed so you can only go up to it from 1 side, I talked for a bit and noticed I was cornered. I have past trauma and hate being cornered, I kept making attempts to hint that I wanted to get out of the corner but they stayed firmly in place, even leaning with their hand on my desk to further block me in which I thought was strange.
Eventually I manage to slip by them by saying I wanted to show them my shelf on the opposite side of the room. The shelf is lower and next to my bed so I sit down to point things out. They then ask if they can sit down as well. I say yes and they proceed to sit down directly next to me, our thighs are touching firmly and they lean in on my bed with their arm behind me. I’m once again cornered and panicked now. I have a thing with my thighs where I HATE anyone touching them, it causes a violent reaction, my brain screams at me to bite, punch or claw anyone who touches them, I feel sick and absolutely enraged whenever it happens. I’ve been SAed in the past but even before that I had that reaction, my therapist says it might be a trauma response from childhood that I don’t remember.
I didn’t want to hurt them and luckily I have the violent outbursts completely under control so I just stiffened up and internalized the rage while trying to steady my breathing. They obviously know nothing about my trauma because we haven’t been friends for very long. So I continue talking about my 2003 rerelease tmnt figures and let them continue to touch me while trying not to cry.
Luckily my roommates return, and I immediately get up and leave my room to greet them. At this point I’m incredibly uncomfortable and wanted them out. But I felt bad if I suddenly kicked them out and I also was their ride. We decided to watch a movie in the living room, I sat in the couch corner and they decided to lay down on the rest of the couch while leaning up near me. One of my roommates picked up on the vibe and decided to join us for the movie, the other two sat at the table where you can still see the tv to eat their food since there was no room on the couch.
I decided to crochet during the movie to help ease my nerves. Every once in a while during the movie I could see them staring at me. Once the movie was over I offered to take them home. When I dropped them off they asked if they could hug me, I gave them a nervous sure, when they hugged me they put their nose into the crook of my neck which gave me the ick.
I’m not sure if it’s just me but I hate whenever I want a friend or just want to hang out with a friend and they turn it into something more without asking me! I’ve been notoriously “manic pixie dream girled” my entire life and I’m sick of it. If you want to go out with me just make your intentions known and ask me on a date! I wouldn’t have said yes but I think they knew that and felt the need to trick me instead.
I’m also incredibly turned off by the fact that their boyfriend just had surgery for appendicitis and is also about to have top surgery this week too and instead of caring for him they’re trying to get into my pants.
The whole situation feels icky and I’m so sad cause I thought I found a cool friend. They’re trying to get me to hang out with them again (even though their boyfriend is having top surgery) and I told them I have therapy and college dumpster diving on my days off this week and they’re trying to get me to work around those.
I just want some advice, am I in the wrong for feeling weird around them now or should I see how this plays out. I usually stick to dating women and other nonbinary people so they’re technically in the range of people I can potentially be attracted to but idk. I haven’t been interested in dating a lot lately cause I’ve been working through my trauma in therapy for the past year. My roommates also thought the whole situation was strange and uncomfortable. My roommate also asked if she had ever done anything like that to make me uncomfortable (she’s also amab like my friend), I reassured her she had never done that and that I feel very safe with her.

Nothing special, feel free to leave feedback.

A year before I left Boston, we went for dinner one night. It was after ultimate frisbee, and Boloco was the only place open. We were still riding high from the last time, when we'd gotten everyone to swim across the Charles. Some kids from MIT had been eating grapes as they walked across the bridge, and I'd convinced them to throw some to me to try to catch in my mouth. They missed a few times before throwing down the ziplock bag, and I was able to throw one to you, which you caught.
So this time, I'd joked we should climb the fence to the reservoir and see if we could eat burritos on our backs as we swam across, like otters. You liked something I'd said, so instead of rushing it with Boloco, we wandered the grocery aisles to savor the planning. In the end, you'd proposed making a little boat by turning the frisbee upside down and duct taping two water bottles beneath as pontoons. "We could make smores," you said leaning toward me. We bought a tiki torch that we sat in the middle and then piled the rest of the frisbee with marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate squares from Hershey bars. Before we left, you ran back to your car to get a sharpie. You wrote "S.S. More" on the side of one water bottle. I posed for a photo.
The platter was awkward, and we dropped a couple pieces of chocolate in the woods. But we got through the fence easily. We broke sticks for our marshmallows and you lit the torch with a lighter from your car. I remember there were these little fish that would nibble at our toes in the shallows. It was unpleasant, but it didn't quite hurt, more ticklish. I was a more confident swimmer, so I pulled the jump rope, swimming on my back, the other hand balancing my marshmallow over the carcinogenic flame.
At some point out on the water, the wind picked up and blew out the torch. We treaded water several minutes as you tried to get the lighter, wet from where you'd stuffed it into your underwear, to work. At the other side of the reservoir, we stood and those little fish nibbled at us, and you shook out the lighter hard, and lit the torch. We ate as much as we pleased, laughing the whole way back. You took a turn with the jump rope.
That summer we drove up and stayed at the cabin your great uncle owned in Maine. The cabin itself was a converted boat, where your uncle, a local politician from Florida, spent his summers with his obese wife. They were the legal guardians of your cousin, whose father disappeared again after relapsing. It was early autumn, and you'd said it was too cold to swim. But we'd go down and jump in the water with your aunt and uncle, who were convinced the cold was soothing to your aunt's gout. I taught the little boy to skip rocks, but I got him in trouble by talking in character as Scarlet O'Hara during a game of Clue, which he wouldn't stop imitating for the rest of the afternoon. His grandfather sent him outside until he stopped. When you and I went to look for him, he was trying to split logs with an axe in his flip flops. We told him not to do that because he could lose his toes, and I told him that voices were only funny for a short time.
You and I didn't sleep in the old boat cabin, which was expectedly small. Instead, we slept in an L in a 12'x12' shed with a light bulb, which hung on an extension cord from a truss. We talked until 3am or 4am, about everything, work, girls, childhood, and the things that we'd done that had finally dragged us into sobriety.
The next morning, I'd said I wanted to see if I could swim across Lewis Cove and back. As soon as I said it, you were in. You were so lean from running all the time, and before we even got past the boats and the lobster traps, you were struggling from the cold. I'd suggested going back or even climbing out on one of the docks holding traps, but you refused. In the middle, you were worried about making it across at all. I figured I could carry you, but without a float, I didn't think I could carry you very far. When we finally got to where we could stand, you got out and tried to warm up. I stayed in the water, swimming back out a little because for some reason I thought a lobster might pinch me. Eventually, I realized how violently you were shivering. So I got out too, and we decided to go find the road and try to hitchhike back.
It turned out to be one of the islands scattered along the coast of Maine. Luckily, the restaurant, the only thing on the island, hadn't yet closed for the year. The staff, who lived on the island in warm months, were shocked to see us on their day off. You asked if they were planning to take their boat across the water anytime soon. "If you're already making the trip, maybe we could carpool?" you suggested. Two of them gave us a lift in a little boat, making thinly veiled comments about the stupidity of summer people most of the way.
The next day, you slept for hours with a fever. Your aunt was angry that I'd been a bad influence. I went back out and tried to complete the round trip swim. I did it carefully, keeping my head out of the water most of the time and swimming a modified breaststroke. I thought maybe a fast pace would help keep my body temperature up. On the other side, I kicked off the rocks and swam back, and it was cold, but I was fine. Back at the cabin, you were awake and gave me a hug when I came in. We looked up the swimming route on your phone and saw that it was indeed an island, a mile and change round trip. That night we bought a few lobsters from some place along the road, which your uncle boiled in seawater.
A few weeks later, you'd tried to set me up with a girl you knew. You showed me a photo of her, a knockout blonde from Florida. You said you'd been telling her all about me and had sent her my website, and that she wanted to visit Boston and meet me. You told me what a good person she was. "She does little things you'd do, like whenever she has spare change, she goes and puts it in the coin return of vending machines so that it'll make someone's day." I asked why you weren't dating her, but you brushed me off. We started arguing somehow at Bukowski's, some comment I'd made because you'd said she routinely got favors from an infatuated ex. I'd told you it sounded like trouble, and that remembering that beauty is fleeting was why I hadn't slept my way through the ultimate frisbee club yet. We ended up finishing our White Trash Cheese Steaks in silence.
I left Boston with some girl the following summer. It fizzled in weeks, but it was years later that I realized how much you loved me. My ex-wife had been organizing photos, and had come across the picture you took of me holding the frisbee boat. She was always jealous of other women, and she asked who I was smiling at in the photo. "He was my friend."

Last night, when I was home alone, a hand reached out from under the couch and grabbed me.
Nobody was there to see it, and nobody that I’ve told believes me, but it definitely happened. It’s not the kind of thing you can just imagine, and I’m sure now that it wasn’t a dream.
I was watching TV when it happened. The remote fell under the couch and I started fishing around for it without really looking, not wanting to get up from my seat. I brushed it with the tips of my fingers and it slid further underneath.
I was super annoyed— I had to get down on my knees to reach it. I finally found the remote, and that’s when it grabbed me.
As I pulled the remote out into the light, a hand shot up from under the couch and wrapped its fingers around my wrist.
I was able to yank myself away quickly. It didn’t hold on tight— just enough that I felt a little resistance. I jumped to my feet, obviously terrified.
I didn’t scream or anything. I was honestly too scared to even make a sound. My heart was beating so fast that my ears started to ring. The TV was still going, commercials droning on while I tried to process what had just happened.
The hand had only come out about a foot from under the couch. It had an arm attached to it, though I wasn’t able to see past its elbow, and it slinked back below the couch as soon as I pulled myself free from its grasp.
It didn’t hurt, and it didn’t leave any sort of bruise or mark or anything on my wrist, but I definitely felt it, and I definitely saw it.
All I could do was stare at the spot where the hand had appeared. I stood there for what felt like an eternity, until I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps right outside my front door.
I live in a second-story apartment. It’s a pretty cramped place and a pretty old building, so whenever someone comes over I can usually hear footsteps from the moment they enter the building downstairs.
I guess I was so freaked out by the hand that I didn’t even notice someone was outside until they were already opening the door.
My roommate walked in on quite a scene. She immediately registered how off the vibe was. I could see it on her face.
She found me standing upright in the middle of our living room, TV remote in hand, facing away from the screen while Full House’s laugh track filled the air. I’m sure I’d think it was odd too.
“Hey…” she said, shifting a paper bag full of groceries in her arm while she pocketed her keys, “You good?”
I felt like I was caught with my pants down, but just seeing a familiar face brought some of the blood back to my fingers.
“N—yeah,” I stuttered. I came back online, and flicked the TV off.
I felt her eyes on me as she walked over to the kitchen. There’s no wall or anything dividing the two rooms. Like I said, the place is pretty cramped.
She started putting her groceries away as if everything was normal, but I could tell she wanted to ask what was up.
I kept looking back and forth between her and the couch. I can’t explain it, but I already knew that if I looked under there, I wouldn’t find any trace of whoever (or whatever) grabbed me.
As she started loading up the fridge, I dropped to my hands and knees once again. Without taking even a second to ready myself, I brought my head down to the ground and looked under the couch.
Nothing.
Pretty much what I expected. There was barely enough room for me to squeeze my arm under there for the remote. No way a whole person could fit beneath that thing, and even if they could, there’s no way I wouldn’t have seen them or heard them or something before they grabbed me.
“Seriously, what’s up?”
I looked up to see my roommate standing right behind me, arms crossed, clearly concerned.
I knew I was acting strange, and I knew that nothing I would come up with in the next five seconds could possibly excuse my behavior. I made a judgement call, honestly not really caring about how it would be received.
“I uh… something grabbed me earlier.”
“What?”
“Under the couch. I dropped the remote, and when I picked it up, a hand reached out from under the couch and grabbed me.”
Took her a second to respond.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“That’s it. A hand reached out and grabbed me by the wrist. It happened like a minute before you got here.”
That part might have been a lie. I actually have no idea how long I had been standing in the middle of the room before she showed up.
“Wait so like someone broke in?”
“No. It’s just like I said. A hand reached out, grabbed me, and then it was gone.”
She just kinda looked at me for a while. I don’t blame her, but it’s not like there was any way for me to sugarcoat it.
“Are you sure?”
“What do you mean ‘am I sure?’ Yes, yes I’m fucking sure!”
My voice broke a little when I said that. I was still down on my knees, like I was praying for her to believe me.
“Okay well obviously that didn’t happen Sam.”I let out a desperate laugh and threw my hands up in the air. I slapped them down on my thighs dramatically and shook my head in exasperation.
“Yeah obviously it sounds fucking crazy but you asked what happened and that’s what happened. I don’t know how else to describe it. I’m just being honest.”
I pulled myself up to my feet and walked around to the armrest of the couch. She kept studying me, probably thinking this was all a prank or something.
“What are you doing?” She asked, arms still glued across her chest.
“I’m checking under the couch.”
I pushed one end of the couch away from the wall. It was pretty heavy, and the coffee table stopped me from moving it too far. I dragged the coffee table towards the TV to free up some space.
My roommate started staring at the spot I was clearing as if she expected to see something there too.
I went back over to the armrest.
“Can you help me?”
She snapped out of her trance and silently went to grab the other side. We pulled the couch away from the wall, revealing a thick rectangle of dust that had not seen the light of day since we moved in a year ago.
I dropped to my knees once more and began wiping away the grime with my bare hands. There was nothing but the floorboards beneath it. No surprise.
I sat there for a second, eyes darting around the floor. No fingerprints in the dust, no scratches or marks or anything. I felt the tension in the room dissipate as my roommate found her voice again.
“I think you must have imagined it.”
I didn’t. There’s no way.
“Dude, no. I felt it and I saw it. Clear as day. It was a hand, and it grabbed me. That’s not the sort of thing you can just imagine.”
She scoffed, any fear left in her giving way to frustration.
“Whatever. This is fucking stupid. I’m going to bed.”
She stomped off towards her room.
“Wait.”
She spun on her heels as I stood up, probably expecting me to tell her I was joking about the whole thing.
“Can you help me flip the couch over?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Sure. But I’m not helping you put it back.”
She helped me lift the couch off of its legs and tilt it onto its front cushions, exposing the fabric underneath. She disappeared into her room and I went to work studying the underside of the sofa.
There was a zipper lining the bottom, but I found nothing inside when I opened it up. Just a hollow wooden frame and a bunch of crumbs.
I sat back against the wall, more tired than scared at that point.
I can’t believe she thinks I’m making this up. Why would I even do that? What purpose would it serve?
As I solemnly went about rebuilding our living room, I decided that the next day (today) I was gonna take off work, wait for her to leave, and really get to the bottom of this.
I didn’t sleep at all last night. Every nook and cranny of my room felt like a door left wide open, with something sinister waiting on the other side.
What if the hand comes back? What if it wants to hurt me next time? How can I even protect myself?
After like ten restless minutes in bed, I decided to move to the floor. I couldn’t help it. I kept imagining the hand reaching up from under the bed and grabbing me again.
I made a makeshift sleeping bag out of my comforter and some pillows, and I laid on my side so I could keep an eye on the underside of my bedframe while I slept. Maybe “slept” isn’t the right word. Even down there, I couldn’t bring myself to close my eyes for longer than a minute.
Eventually sunlight began to peek through the blinds, and I heard some movement within the apartment. My roommate was finally up. I heard the front door close, and it was time to get to work.
I nearly threw my back out yanking the couch away from the wall to reveal the floorboards underneath. They aren’t real floorboards, just the kind of cheap-o fake shit they put in crappy houses to make them look more modern. Our whole apartment is like that— a thin coat of paint slapped over an old building from the 40s or whatever.
My dad actually owns this building. He lets me and my roommate stay here as long as we pay him $500 a month, which is way cheaper than most places in my area.
It’s not really an apartment building to be honest. You can tell it used to be a family home before some realtor swooped in and broke it up into apartments. There are a lot of those around here.
Anyway, the fake wood came up easy. It was only about a quarter inch thick. I was able to pull up the first plank by hammering a kitchen knife into a slit between the boards, and then I peeled a few more away by hand.
After prying away about a dozen of these fake floorboards, I started to realize that I wasn’t going to find anything without making a significantly larger dent. Right beneath the thin layer of fake wood was a layer of very real, very thick wooden beams that seemed to span well beyond the hole I had managed to claw open.
My back crackled and popped as I sat back on my heels to admire my handiwork and contemplate where to go from there. I knew I would need a power saw or some kind of heavy duty tool to get any deeper, but I was afraid of two things:

1. That these beams were supporting the entire second floor of the building, and cutting through them would make the whole thing collapse
2. That going any deeper would lead me into the ceiling of the apartment below us, and whoever lives there would call my dad before I could see what I needed to see.

Regardless of the risks, I knew I had to keep going. I was certain that something was down there. Whatever grabbed me had to have left some sort of evidence.
I can’t stop thinking about that fucking hand.
I’m not supposed to have it, but my dad gave me a master key for the whole building in case of emergencies. He could really get in trouble if anyone found out, but if this isn’t an emergency then idk what is.
There’s a service shed around the back of the building, which has seen none of the love that the main building saw when it was renovated. Decades worth of rusty antiques and rotting furniture line the walls. A shiny, modern tool bench sits unnaturally in the middle of the chaos.
I rifled through all of that shit as fast as I could. I’m not really close with my dad all things considered, and I’m sure he’d be super pissed if he found me out there. He’s so secretive about random shit all the time, and he’s constantly dropping by the building unannounced.
I found the jigsaw under a pile of old newspapers and ran back upstairs.
I probably should have checked the driveway to see if anyone was home first, because the saw made so much noise. The cord barely reached from the outlet to the spot where the couch used to be, but as awkward as the angle was, I was still able to get it in there.
I went as small as possible with my first few cuts. I started with a single beam, cutting out a section about 6x6 inches wide. I slid the chunk of wood out, and, to my relief, didn’t immediately see the plaster that would be my downstairs neighbor’s ceiling.
A tuft of insulation stuck out where I made the hole. I didn’t know that stuff is made from fiberglass or whatever, and I got a really bad splinter when I went to yank it out.
I fished some leather gloves out of my roommate’s closet and got to work on the insulation. I pulled and pulled but couldn’t get a good enough grip to remove anything more than a few bits about the size of a tennis ball.
I went back in with the jigsaw, cutting bigger and bigger chunks until I had cleared a hole about two feet in diameter.
No sign that I was gonna bring the building down, that’s good.
I hacked away for hours. More wood came up, more insulation came up, and when I finally hit a fragile-looking layer of drywall, I knew the jig was up. That’s definitely my neighbor’s ceiling. Fuck.
My roommate and I got in a screaming match when she got home. I made a pretty big mess but I don’t really give a fuck honestly.
I don’t give a fuck if she believes me. I fucking hate that bitch. I told her if she tells my dad what I’m doing, I’ll bash her brains in with the hammer. That shut her up. She left with a bag full of her clothes like an hour later.
Tomorrow I’m going to wait for our downstairs neighbor to leave and start investigating from the bottom-up. If there wasn’t any evidence on the floor up here, there HAS to be something on the ceiling down there.
If I do find something, I’ll post again. I doubt anyone will even believe me, but at this point I just want everything written down somewhere accessible in case something bad happens.
There has to be something down there. Something grabbed me. And I’m going to find out what it is.

I don't really no where to start. I feel I've lost myself, consumed with anxiety and guilt and fear and regret and I fear, this new fear, that it's going to be the end of me if I don't start to get it out in some way, shape or form.
I guess I'll begin at the beginning...
​
I had a difficult childhood with fairly neglectful parents. A mother who openly expressed she never felt she really stepped into her mom shoes until she gave birth to my younger sister, who is three years younger than me. She is my only sibling. My mother told me when I was a kid that she "had to love me", but when my sister came around "she was finally a mother and over the moon", or simply "I always always wanted a girl". I'm not sure if this could be attributed to Post-partum depression, not that she ever researched that or was daignosed with it. That's probably just me trying to pardon my mother or something to the effect. She was 17 when she had me and I'm sure times were different then, my parents both were raised religious, father christian, mother mormon. Maybe their guilt. I ask myself why they brought me into this world if I wasn't wanted to begin with. Or, give me up for adoption to a set of guardians that would have loved me better. I know I was an accident and that's not what gets me down, I get that life be lifing and what happened happened. My difficulties stem from the feeling that my presence never gave my mother any sense of purpose, responsibility or love, or concern. She was emotionally unavailable to me virtually my entire life and I feel like that caused many issues later in my life and how I perceive myself and what I deserve. Coupled with the fact that my neglect met such extremes that I am frankly shocked that I was never picked up by child care services, maybe things were different in the 90's. I'm not sure, I was just a child then.
Much of my upbringing I didn't receive a lot of the things most people would consider essential. As a baby my crib was the sock drawer, then I grew large enough to have a closet, then slept on the floor of a walk-in closet, then I had a single bed from what I recall for maybe a year or maybe two years and I remember feeling metal springs poke me in the my ribs and I recall it being uncomfortable enough for me to move back to sleeping on the floor next to the ratty old used mattress my father found from who knows where. I remember feeling like I had to keep that secret, that the mattress they gave me was uncomfortable enough for me to sneak sleeping on the floor next to it. I think I was really afraid as coming across as ungrateful. My father came from a third world country, so the "gratefullness issue" was address frequently by my mom because "I don't have it even half as bad as what my father had to endure. And she was probably right. But it just silenced me ultimately, didn't put things into a mature context for me. I just learned that I can't complain about anything ever. Anyway, that trend didn't really change when I grew older. grade 9-10 I was sleeping on the living room couch so my sister could have privacy and a bedroom to exist in for herself - which I realize is important for an individual so I encouraged her to have the bedroom. Although I figured my parents expected me to do this for my sister regardless. I was okay with making sacrfices for those I love, it was instilled in me from a very very young age.
I do feel like my father took advantage of me in the form of labour as well, having to do custodial work with my father from 10pm to 3am, at two highschools I believe he was contracted, at that young age I honestly enjoyed just spending time with my father I think, working alongside him. When I was in grade 2 and 3 I had garbage bag duty for all the students bathrooms, and I remember loving snapping the bags open by rushing air into the bag and making it blow up like a baloon. I remember the scary unlit shadowy hallways that I couldn't perceive the ends of. No bodies to see, it felt eerie but exciting in a way - like it was a whole different world.
School was a different experience for me. It was very stressful, my parents had to move a few times a year because they would dodge rent or just generally be selfish with their dual income. They loved to party hard on the weekends. I remember wondering why my father did this to himself all the time. Hoping that we could spend quality time on a saturday, but he wouldnt get out of bed until just before dinner. I didn't really understand hangovers or alcoholism and how it meant our plans would get cancelled. I think I remember trying to wrap my head around willful self-poisoning for entertainment and how could that be more enjoyable then spending time with your son? I couldn't tell my mother why I was so sad about it. Why I didn't want to move again and again and again. Why I found it so difficult to make new friends everytime I had to switch schools. Why I couldn't just do one single full school year with one class of students. It was so hard and at the time, I didn't know anything different. It was so hard to make friends and I think it created this approach to making a "new family" of friends when I became a teenager and young adult.
​
I remember always wanting to be a "good kid". The "best kid" for my parents. I feel like my parents attached this moniker to me that made things harder for me to mature into a rounded adult later in life. My parents always flaunted me as this point of accomplishment, the accomplishment that I was "so extremely well behaved". I would strive to be super polite, and a good host, try to help out when my parents had their friends over, literally fill their cups when the opportunity presented themselves. I think I did this because I must have made the conclusion that if I was quiet, super polite, helpful and useful then I had value. That I could be loved. That I could earn this love from my parents through acts of service.
I remember feeling like my sister and I had extremely different experiences growing up. When my parents were at work I took care of her, cleaned and cooked. one time my sister told my mom to eff off when she was 5 and I was 8. My mind was blown. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that she had the bravery and courage to defy my mother. Looking back, my sister was just mirroring the language she learned from my parents from whenever they fought. I remembering seriously worrying and getting scared that my father was going to belt her, or use the coat hanger, which was his preference with me. I feel like my mom was always checked out and I'm hurt that she allowed my father to take his rage out on me. That my mom could care less about me being beat, but never my sibling. It was very confusing and difficult for me to process. Not that I really processed it much as a kid. I honestly just wanted to be loved and be the best child possible. Honestly though, 'm seriously so glad that my sister was spared all of that complete non-sense. I don't wish that on anyone in the world. There were some punishments where he would walk in and tell me to pull my pants down without explanation. I have memories of tearing up and saying I didn't know why this was happening, asking what I did wrong and he would just remind me that if I resisted then I would get it worse and to hurry up and get ready. My father has since apologized. I think it is how he was raised. I didn't know what to say in response, but I told him I loved him and it's in the past. But I don't know if I was being honest when I said that. My mother would still gaslight me to this day if any of this became topic of discussion, not that I'm guessing. A year ago she told me that much of my pained memories were false and this never happened. My father on the other hand typically stays pensive and unchallenging.
It seems so damned crazy writing all of this out, it feels like a heartbreaking novel and not my life at all. But it was and is my life. I have difficulties opening up and expressing my feelings and advocating for myself when the moments are true and appropriate to do so. I know it's the healthier way to communicate, but I was literally taught to stay quiet and be useful. Fast forward 20-25 years and I'm going to be 35 and I feel like just ending it all. Every year my birthday passes and I'll get a text from my family happy birthday. But they know I'm in a difficult place, they know I miss them, they know I love them and forgive them, I try the high road whenever I can but I just don't see the point anymore. they won't celebrate my life and existence, but they'll throw family gatherings for each other, birthdays, christmas, fathers day and mothers day.
On that note, another mother's day has recently passed and my mother never invited me over, I texted my father three weeks in advance in hopes of securing a time to come over and celebrate my mothers life with my family as a family. I felt particularly stung this mother's day when they celebrated and didn't text or call to invite me over. I live in the same small town so it's easy to hop over. I literally live three blocks away.
Anyway, my mother was diagnosed with cancer over christmas this year and I have been worrying for my mother ever since and thinking about my life with her and the mortal coil and the finite mount of time I may have with her. I feel like there is a large empty part in my heart that wishes my mother and I could go grab a coffee together. She can show me her ipad app art that she has been really excited about for a couple years now. She loves showing off her digital art and I love seeing her joy and how proud she is about her art. I just don't know why she couldn't feel the same for me, her only son. Maybe I'm just a her dissapointment.
I dropped out of highschool and left the family home when I was 16. I just couldn't work for my dad during the night AND go to highschool AND socialize. Something had to give. Unfortunately it was highschool and my parents didn't really care about that at all. They were just... fine with it. they supported my sister through college and she was fortunately able to graduate with a veterinary degree of sorts. she still lives with them now as she pays off her student debt, but I left and travelled and worked on music for over a decade so I admit that I was entirely out of the family picture for some time. But as I get older, not wanting to repeat the mistakes of my parents I fear that that is precisely what's been creeping up in my life.
five years ago I met the absolute most wonderful human being and I am so lucky to have my partner in my life. She and I are engaged now and set to be married. I hoped that the news would overwhelm my parents with excitement and joy. Maybe a facebook post about their son, share some family pictures or something. But they did nothing at all. I think they showed off pictures of the trip to Mexico that week instead.
I just don't really understand how I'm this unworthy of their love and unfortunately now I'm realizing that illusion that I am unworthy has infected my relationship with my fiance. I love her so much but when I can't fix everything in her life I feel like I am the failure and the guilt overhelms me so much and the guilt is such a strong motivator for me, and it usually motivates me into becoming the biggest doormat in the world. I've never worked harder for a relationship or invested this much energy. I feel she deserves it. But I don't advocate for myself. So I build up resentment. Like I clean the house constantly and work and help bail out of her bad spending habits and cover her rent without question and this and that. To be clear, she doesn't take advantage of me and that's not how I feel about it. But I do let this annoyance build up inside of me because I don't know how to communicate my feelings in a healthy way. I'm scared I'll lose the person if I speak up, or I'll be gaslit. Again, that's not my partner that gaslights. That's just generally how I feel I'll be treated if I open up with people. It all goes back to my childhood. It's affected every friendship and work relationship I've had since.
When I was 20-ish, 15 years years ago I did the classic, "seek the relationship that most comfortably fits into the patterns you experienced with your parents". And so I trapped myself in a horrific and extremely damaging relationship with a girl I'll call K. She has undiagnosed bipolaBPD, she would never seek help but self-medicate. She ended up in the hospital maybe four times for self-harming and this where she was considered to have these diseases by a few doctors on different occasions. Anway, it turned into a relationship of abuse and it wasn't exactly new territory for me. I was ashamed in that 8 year relationship. I wanted out so bad, but she would threaten to unalive everytime I tried to get away. Of course, some weeks would go by and i would get my hair pulled out of my scalp, a knife waving in the air in front of my face, spat in the face, kicked, punched, bit, a pot of freshly boiled ramen soup thrown in my face and eyes. What's worse is that I seeked police intervention on multiple occasions. Every single time the police visited, they talked me out of pressing charges, asking me " well if she doesn't have any place to go, then do you have a place you can stay at, or the shelter?". twice they talked me out of a restraining order, that legal proceedings would take forever. Adn de-escalting me from wanting to take measures to ensure my safety because she may end up on the street as a result. To this day, I absolutely wish I advocated for myself here and pushed for a restraining order. I'm so mad at myself for not doing so.
Unfortunately, fast forward a couple years into that relationship and one evening everything would finally hit the fan. I told her to never touch me again and I absolutely meant it. she had just yanked out the largest chunk of my hair to date, to the point where my scalp was bleeding and I could even see epidermal matter still attached to the folicle ends that were in her clenched fingers. My head bled a bit and I pushed her off of me. Telling her that I needed to leave, that I was walking to my secure jam space just a 10 minute walk away. It had a leather couch in a cold concrete basement, but hey at least I would be safe for the night and I could play my drums and try and blow off this anxiety and fear in a way that was safe albeit very noisy.
She hated that I wanted to leave and convinced herself I would never return. To be fair, that was the energy I had. I never wanted to see her face again and have her name on my lips after that night. So her tactic was simple, to threaten me with calling the cops and tell them that I violently pushed her. I called her bluff and said "go ahead and I will just tell them everything you've done - yet again. All I am doing is going to the space to sleep, I said, maybe play drums." She called the cops and told them she was pushed into a wall, and she felt very unsafe. Which yes, I did push her off me when she attacked me. In the past, I tried various tactics, to run away didn't work, she just always chased me down. Or sometimes I would just sit there while she was violent against me and I just "dissapeared" kind of like how I would when my dad used his coat hanger. This time, I just pushed her off of me, I was done with the relationship at that point and we both knew it. Anyway, she called the police, they arrived and when questioned I told them that I pushed her off of me in self-defence. I was drinking that night and it didn't help my case as I was arrested without question that evening and I was charged on the spot without question with domestic assault. It devasted me. I asked the police how this could happen lawfully. That she is an abuser and there is a history of this multiple times. That I've requested a restraining order. They explained that in quebec the laws are a little different and in the case domestic cases, if there is a male aggressor against a female, then the male is automatically charged to the fullest extent. I was absolutelyu devasted by this. I can't tell you the amount of fear and anger I felt in that jail cell that night.
I feel so incredibly betrayed by the justice system, keep in mind, this is law that from what I understand is only in Quebec, I was there for music at the time with an old friend whom I am no longer in contact with. I don't think the rest of the country operates under law in this way. Now I appreciate that they are vigilant about woman abuse victims, but the law shouldn't be this absurdly biased. It just doesnt feel just and fair to me. Covert abusers shouldn't be able to take advantage of the justice system in this way, but it happens.
It was an awful experience, I was homeless for a couple months afterward, not allowed to retrieve my belongings, so I lost all of my life "crap" that I had built up, years of hardwork and investment. I mention this because I realize later in life that I have intense collecting behaviour. maybe as a self-soothing behaviour. But I love building up collections of my hobby stuff as I have many and I feel they keep me regulated and it's a form of therapy for me. In any case, I lost everything when I left that whole situation. It sucks, although ultimately it's clearly best that I got out of that dreadful circumstance. I flew across the country to my hometown and to be closer to my family and old friends from highschool. It's quite a small town mind you.
Unfortunately, my classic tendency to hide and not advocate for myself created an opportunity for my abusive ex. A year following those events, despite me assuring her that I had to block her because I flew away to start a new life provinces away. That I wished her the best. That I even promised I would never tell a soul what she did to me. Not to mention that unfortunately we live in a society where nobody really has an ounce of sympathy for a male abuse victim. I had every intention to keep that promise, but she couldn't trust me ultimately. I think her logic was maybe to just beat her ex to "the punch". Kill or be killed or something like that. I don't live my life like that so I don't really know what her plan was. But she made a bunch of posts on various social media platforms for all of our mutual friends, music friends, coworkers etc. that the relationship was over and she was free. That she got out of a cycle of abuse and she was ready to start a new chapter of her life. She never used my name, just that she was glad she got away from her toxic and abusive ex once and for all.
It was exactly like that night a year prior, she threatened me with this outcome she could design for me, and I called her on her bluff by saying I was still going to block her and I can't control what she does with her life or how she conducts herself, but that I was out and to never contact me ever again. She made me regret that decision.
The posts she made that day got so many likes and support from so many of our mutual friends, even musician mates that were closer to me than her, and it absolutely destroyed me, not just internally but socially. I no longer make music anymore and it hurts to go outside into the world because it feels like everybody sees me as this monster. And still I don't have a voice to inform anyone otherwise - except my family and my fiance. I have no friends anymore. They all left my life with the belief that I did all of these horrible and awful things.
I just don't trust people anymore as a result and it's just caused me to become extremely bitter and depressed. I ruminate on the past, maybe in attempts to fix the past so I can move on. So I could do better, so I don't have to punish myself for my mistakes in the past. But it just reopens every emotional wound I have and they never get a chance to heal. That was maybe 7 years ago now and I'm still replaying these events in my head every single morning for about 1 - 2 hrs. Then I go completely numb for the majority of the rest of the day, shallow breathing, and the mildest sadness that mascarades as fatigue and disinterest.
There are some days where I seriously fear for the future and I just feel like every cruel soul will inherit this earth and that's the future, they built this world of suffering and they deserve to inherit it. Their toxic flag staked so deep into the earth in reclamation. The future isn't holding any seats for people like us. I'm so heartbroken and defeated. I feel like white-wolfing my fiance because she deserves better than this traumatized person that hides from the world. I feel like giving her my collection of collections so she can sell it all off and pay off her 10k of credit debt, then with this act of kindness I can go out not feeling like a guilt-ridden defeated loser. And leave on a high note.
When I'm alone, I get trapped in these ruminating cycles and it's the angriest I ever get. It's reached the point where I feel like I am actually reliving all this past trauma every morning and I can't do it anymore. I just feel like I am so at the end of whatever this ride was.
I don't have any friends anymore and everyone but my fiance thinks I am a monster and it's just unbearable.
I just don't even know. I am even afraid that someone will read this post and suss through all of this and make the connection. Then I'll get another new email or random throwaway account with an insta message that says "I told you you would never be able to get over me. You can move on, but you will never be able to erase the past. Never truly. You know where to find me."
It's haunting and it's poisonous. I just feel haunted and poisoned and I don't know if there is a snake oil potent enough or antitode true enough to get me back to the generous, lighthearted, energetic kid I once was.
To whoever was willing to read through all of this, thank you for hearing me out. I don't know what advice I am even asking for here. I'm hoping just speaking this out into the world in some way can alleviate this misery. I don't know.

Hey!
I was hoping someone could help me with a couple of questions or point me in the right direction.
Me and my Australian partner are looking into the 820/801 visa and being from Sweden, "de-facto relationship" and it's conditions are new to me so I'm unsure if we're eligible for this visa without being married.
Timeline:
June 2022 - Started talking online.
January 2023 - I traveled to Australia and stayed for 3 months on a tourist visa and we officially became a couple.
July 2023 - I came back to Australia on a 12 month tourist visa and have been here since.
So what I'm wondering is,

• Have we been in a relationship long enough to qualify for the 820 visa?
• Are you more likely to get granted a partner visa if you're married compared to a de-facto relationship?
• How much evidence do you have to provide with the initial application? At the moment we only have online conversations from when we were apart, photos of us together, letters with my name to her address. I've seen people mention joint bank accounts, super, name on the lease etc. and those are things we currently don't have.

Any help would be appreciated, thanks!

Snipped from a Hacker News comment related to Open AI's new release: "We’re moving toward a world where every job will be modeled, and you’ll either be an AI owner, a model architect, an agent/hardware engineer, a technician, or just.. training data."
I know many folks think big swaths of PR are -- and will remain -- immune to AI. But as a thought exercise, I can see the industry getting a piece of every one of these roles:
AI owner: Highly technical or specific domains will absolutely require custom-trained models; a smart domain-focused PR shop could train those models and build a business (or at least a profitable line item on the invoices) out of renting it to clients. Probably makes less sense right now because the rate of iteration is too fast to easily keep up.
Model architect: People are modeling the work of PR professionals into a tailored AI -- I don't have to guess at that; I know folks doing it. The more interesting question: Why aren't PR people/shops modeling the behavior of journalists and influencers into AIs? Decades ago, we needed a hit in the NYT for a certain level of shock-and-awe coverage. Today? The right model and API framework could launch 20 niche Substacks, cross-pollinate them, promote them via earned and paid channels on social, and likely get the same impact or more. And we could do it with a higher degree of data-driven certainty about our process and results. Ethical? Not everyone will think so. Is that gonna stop the train? Nope.
Agent/hardware engineer and/or technician: This seems to be where a lot of individuals and shops are experimenting right now, futzing around with how to make AI work for specific clients and highly individualized/quirky workflows. It's a start... but I don't think it's a way to build a business with a moat around it.
Training data: This is the one I never hear people talking about. The world is *awash* in new AI models, many of them open source. How long before some PR person figures out they can impact the output of those models by flooding the zone with biased training data? As with the model-architect issue, it's something many folks would find unethical. But the sheer amplification it would offer is too tempting a target to think someone won't do it.
Anyway, that's what I'm thinking about while stuck in an airport waiting for a delayed red-eye. What does everyone else think?

In the second of our development diaries we discuss tokenisation and aim to answer, Why?

Why Now?

In the ever-evolving landscape of real estate and property development, the need for transparency, accountability, and community-focused solutions has never been more apparent. The industry is not without its faults. Poor construction quality, material mismanagement, and maintenance delays. Such practices underscore the urgent need for change.
Paxmata was founded on the principle that property development should bridge the divide between our customers and clients, ensuring that every project is as much about the people who live and work in the spaces we create as it is about profitability. It's about making sure that everyone has a voice and that the environments we build are safe, sustainable, and supportive.
The Grenfell Tower tragedy exposed profound issues in building safety standards, oversight, and corporate accountability, sending ripples across communities, industries, and governments worldwide. The aftermath brought to light the critical need for stringent regulatory reforms and highlighted the gaps in monitoring and enforcement of building safety standards. In this environment, web3 technology isn't just advantageous—it's essential! With Paxmata's blockchain-based tracking and transaction capabilities, we can ensure that every material, every decision in the construction process is recorded transparently, offering a proactive approach to risk management. This not only enhances safety and compliance but also restores trust in property development by guaranteeing that communities have access to safe, well-built homes. There's no better time than now to embrace these technologies, as we work to prevent future tragedies and build a safer, more accountable property development landscape.

Why Tokenisation?

At Paxmata, we recognise the potential of ERC-721 technology in revolutionising property development. These tokens serve as a powerful tool for encapsulating project data, ensuring that every transaction and update is securely recorded on the blockchain. This guarantees the integrity of the data and enhances the traceability and transparency of each project's lifecycle. While ERC-721 tokens offer significant advantages in ensuring the uniqueness and ownership of assets, they come with limitations, particularly in their basic functionality and lack of support for complex, interconnected asset management. This prompts us to explore further into the blockchain technology to harness even more specialised features.
The hierarchical nature of ERC-998 expands upon ERC-721 by supporting a parent-child relationship among tokens. This makes it suitable for managing complex development projects that typically involve multiple, interlinked components—from initial land acquisition to final construction details. However, despite its benefits in organising and linking various project phases, ERC-998 also introduces challenges in terms of complexity and handling large-scale transactions efficiently.
Recently, developments such as ERC-6551 have emerged in the industry, introducing advanced capabilities by allowing NFTs (ERC tokens) to own and manage separate accounts. This innovation holds the promise of overcoming some of the existing limitations by enabling direct interaction with decentralised applications and broader asset management functionalities.
As we closely monitor these developments our goal is to continuously improve and adapt to the latest advancements, leveraging blockchain technology to deliver greater value and transparency to all parties involved in the development process.

Why Web3?

Recently, a number of people have asked me, "Why Web3?"
I'll wrap up this week's development diary with an answer: The goal for Paxmata is to transform a piece of the real estate sector by bridging the gap between stakeholders. Our commitment to accountability, transparency, and efficiency is now more important than ever in creating an efficient framework for development. Web3 technology isn't just a trendy buzzword; it's the backbone of a decentralised approach that enhances every aspect of property development and management. By decentralising control, ensuring immutable record-keeping, and automating processes with smart contracts, we're not only streamlining development but also building a trust-based ecosystem that supports all stakeholders.
Let's not wait to sift through the rubble for solutions. Instead, let's start by strengthening the foundations. This proactive approach to property development is how we shape a more efficient and responsive future in real estate.
Join us as we journey to redefine property development.
Discord: https://discord.gg/HFV3xkDy
Telegram: https://t.me/+yOARVgf1iqljYjU0
X: PAXMATA
Best Regards,
Alexander
FoundeCEO

My grandma is awful to everyone, she says so many awful things to people and I don’t know how to deal with it. At the moment she is targeting me, my brother and my mother. It used to just be her and my grandfather making comments since my bother is a picky eater, but now it’s gotten worse. She knew at the time I was dealing with awful eating habits and thoughts about my body and my food, but when she was measuring me so we could make a piece of clothing for me she grabbed my stomach and told me to stop eating so many biscuits or something like that. It was about 2 years ago so I can’t remember the exact words. She then had a tantrum when I wanted my dad to come to the shop with us to get material, to which he ended up staying with the dogs so me, my grandma and grandad went, I was holding back tears after she said that and was throwing the tantrum, then had tears in my eyes on the car ride there. And hasn’t apologised at all (me and my brother are both minors). I’m autistic and my sensory issues are really bad, but she makes it all about her saying that any acomodations I need is ruining the time we spend together as a family. She has made awful comments to my brother too, like when he put his face by the window to see one of our cats then the cat walked away, he said the cat was gone and she said it was probably because of his ugly face. And since the time we have stood up for ourselves (mostly my parents talking to them about how awful she has been) my grandmother has just been so cold, distant and doesn’t talk much to us the few times we met up with them. She always compares me to my cousin, saying how many things she has done and how amazing she is and then whenever anything that I’ve done gets brought up she doesn’t give me much attention. My grandmother and my grandfather ignore my disabilities and say my mother is just codling me when she just doesn’t wasn’t my mental health to get really low like before to put it lightly because my disabilities are so dabilitating. She doubles down instead of apologising and admitting she’s wrong. We continually try to give them chances and they just show that they just don’t care. She holds grades when we stand up for ourselves. And that’s just to name a few times she has been and said awful things to us. She wants us to suck up our suffer and brush everything under the rug. None of us know what to do anymore, we’re already low contact but I don’t think we can go non contact. She has this medical thing and she could die at any time and I don’t know what to say to her to get her to understand, I don’t know what to do. No one knows what to do, not even my parents or uncle. They have tried speaking to her but nothing goes through. Please any advise would be heavily appreciated. I’m so lost on what to do.

Do y’all ever feel cringe about being on a WL journey?
I leaned in heavily (hah!) to the body-positive rhetoric for ages and it made me so critical of weight loss and diet culture that now I feel so cringe about losing weight, even after losing steadily for over 9 months.
I want to celebrate success and I see people proudly post before/after photos but when I look at my “before” photos, I feel so embarrassed about how hot I thought I was, when I was so obviously unwell. It feels cringe to celebrate undoing what I was so oblivious to under my delusion that I was hot and fat 🙈
How did you get over yourself/out of your head to just enjoy the journey?

I hope this will either give you comfort to know you're not alone, or that your ex may be regretful for whatever reason.
9 years, been together since 18 and I just could not do it anymore. She was the only person who enjoyed me without any qualifications, and she was the first person I ever felt comfortable being some amount of myself around. She was the only person I've ever felt such curiosity for, I just wanted to know everything about her. From her favorite things and worst memories, to the mundane annoyances and joys of her every day. I think she liked the attention I gave her or something, because I was just a mentally ill loser when we met and I never really changed, I just got a job. Still, she loved me with all her heart.
In the last few years, I relied on her to validate my worth since she was the only thing I really ever loved in my life and nothing beyond the relationship gave me pride/joy. She relied on me for support in basically every aspect of her life -- emotional, physical, financial, chores, even some career-wise. We took turns being mentally unwell, but this time I just couldn't wait for her turn to be up for whatever reason. She started getting better and doing a lot of those things she does when she is happy, and I just reached a point of burnout (from multiple sources) that I became slightly resentful of the support I gave while at the same time feeling like she was abandoning me to spend time with other people when I needed help.
I couldn't talk to her about it. I was afraid she wouldn't take it serious, or that by even voicing my feelings it would unravel all her progress. Things of that nature happen during any decade long relationship, and had, but I stopped trying to even talk about it during the last few months. I was just afraid. At the time of the breakup, when I blindsided her, I really thought every little thing way she let me down in regard to my unspoken expectations was proof she didn't like or care about me anymore. I was so wrong. I am just toxically independent and hid my feelings, while she lived her life like a normal person with a normal partner who loves and communicates. I really felt afraid of the dynamic we had to the point that I couldn't admit my feelings in part for fear of hurting her, and so I just decided to end it. Normal, right?
I pictured the breakup in my head for about a month before a big emotional event triggered a hypo-manic episode on top of my deep depression, and it has not gone how I thought it would. I thought she'd cry for a couple weeks, but because of the friends she'd be living with, she'd get over me pretty quick since she had support and love all around and people to spend time with. Maybe she'd get better faster without me hanging around and being a downer all the time? I thought I'd end up spending a couple weeks getting my affairs in order and practicing my knots before taking an early exit, or I'd end up becoming a hermit who just worked his stupid little job to live in his dumb little 1 bedroom apartment for the rest of his life. To that end, I removed myself from all the group chats and stopped talking to mutual friends, so that she could have all the support they could provide. They were 90% of the people I talked to outside of work. It was self-abuse wrapped up as me doing a favor for her, which I can see now.
How it's gone is that she ended up in the hospital for a weeklong hold and I'm cycling between pretending to practice radical self-care and literally beating myself up while drinking/smoking alone in our home on a monday night. I'm just so stupid for thinking this would be a good outcome for anyone. Now its been 7 months since I fucked it all up, and after some back and forth we've agreed to go NC until the 12 month mark. I can't stop thinking about her, the pain I caused her, all the times I told her I wanted to marry her before I just stopped wanting it one day. I can't stop thinking about getting back together with her, and just doing it all again because I had a really bad week or something. I have a much better understanding of myself/why I do things or think certain ways now, but that hasn't changed me really. I'm afraid I can't change, and even if I moved on, I'd just do this all again to a new person.
I guess I wish, at the very least, that I knew what I do now back when I dumped her. I was still figuring things out and told her a lot of stuff that I was only feeling in the moment but didn't really understand. Some of it just isn't true anymore, some of it didn't need to be heard, but a lot of it is just symptoms of greater problems that would have resolved themselves if I just waited a couple months. All of it hurt her more than she needed to be hurt. I wish I never hurt her in the first place.
At this point, I am choosing to do those things that healthy people do (exercise, rest, therapy, being social, family) because I'm hoping she'll appreciate it and will have been doing the same things when I see her next. But if we're not both strongemore resilient people when that happens, we can not start a new relationship without the threat of a repeat hanging over us. So we just can not start again. And then what? I fucked up my life and then spent a year building a new one just to not have her back in it? The obvious answer is "yes," but the only answer I can really believe in is "I wasted a year of effort building a life for a guy I don't even like and I didn't even get what I wanted out of it." Its such a stupid position to put yourself into and I hate myself more than ever for doing it. I want to be positive, but it's hard.
If you're reading this post before you decide to dump someone you still love and you're also unwell, just please get into therapy and submit to the process. If you end up staying a few extra months getting your head right before you break it off, that's great! You will have an easier recovery and not so much guilt! If you get right and figure out how to solve your relationship issues(literally just talking 90% of the time), awesome! But to not give yourself that help just opens you up to this pain and guilt and crisis, even if it is the correct decision.

For context, I’m a 25yo female, that comes from a mixed background (my mother 56F is a white woman from southern Europe, my father is from the Balkans and migrated to my country when he was younger). This is relevant and you will understand later.
I moved away from home as soon as I could when I was 18 after a not so good childhood, and currently live in another European country. My parents are divorced, my father is not really in the picture, I keep in touch with my mother on a daily basis and come visit her and the rest of the family once or twice a year. We never had the best relationship but since I moved out it improved a lot. I’d say we get along better when I’m far away from home.
Anyway, back to the reason of this post. I’ve been seeing this guy for more than a year, he’s great, we’re slowly getting to know each other and see where this is going. We are not in a rush but of course this is a relationship and I felt it was time to tell something more to my mother. I’ve always been quite open about my relationships and people I was dating, however since getting older I started being more private as I don’t think it would be good to mention every failed date to my mother (lol). We come from a typical small town in southern Europe, where people are bigots and close-minded. The news on the tv are constantly complaining about immigrants coming to our country and jadajadajada. The government is mostly right wing. So yeah, I didn’t really mentioned much about this guy, first of all cause I’m trying to keep it private but also because I could imagine her reaction, since she’s the standard average middle age woman that you find on Facebook without much culture. She is ignorant not as an insult but as in the real sense of the word: she ignores, she doesn’t inform herself and just believes whatever the media tells her.
Anyway, she suspected I was seeing someone for a while, I never really said much but I’ve been giving her a few hints in the past weeks and now that I came back to my hometown for a week she started being very curious. The day after I arrived we were casually talking before bed and she just kept asking “C’mon, don’t you have a pic of this guy? Show me! C’mon c’mon! I’m your mother!” so, one side of me didn’t wanna show her, the other one was excited cause at the end of the day I’m proud of my relationship and I was happy to tell her more (maybe naively hoping for a good outcome…). So without thinking much I showed her one of the best pictures of him. Literally in the millisecond while I was showing her the picture she said something like: “hope it’s not a n****” (WHATTT???).
At that point the phone was already on her face. It was done. She said it, and at the same time she saw the picture. She was speechless and I was too. I was ashamed of her. And sad.
She didn’t say anything more for the following 10 minutes, she went to her room and I went to mine. Afterwards she just asked “does he even work?!” And I told her “don’t worry about it, he’s better off than the both of us” just to make her shut up about that question that I found so disrespectful. This made me just so sad, and disappointed.
But the worst had yet to come. We didn’t speak much about it at all until today.
We were having a casual conversation during the afternoon when the relationship topic came out. In particular, we were talking about how your partner should improve your life and not making it worse, meaning he should make you happy, he should bring good positive vibes, get along etc. that’s what I was thinking and referring to. But she started being very materialistic, she asked me “so, in which way is he improving your life?!” in a very aggressive sassy tone “I don’t see anything changing“ she said. I was mentioning that he makes me happy when the conversation degenerated. All sort of things came out of it.
She started by saying:
“well, I truly hopes this will be just a friend and you will keep it like that”
then she continued with:
“please take birth control precautions before you regret it”
“don’t come to me later saying I didn’t stop you”
and the cherry on top was:
“I would have preferred if you told me you were a lesbian cause at least that is cool nowadays”.
I was speechless and I still am.
I asked her what is it that she doesn’t like and what is she basing her opinions on, since she literally knows nothing about him. She couldn’t answer. She kept repeating the same things over and over and she also said she would never want to meet him.
I have to mention that the few guys she met that I was dating were of different cultures, but she never had a problem with them, I guess because the skin color was the same… and in her mind there are probably foreigners of Class A, B, C…
I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I neither expected such a bad reaction.
All this hurts me so much.
I don’t know what to do.
In my mind it neither makes sense cause she married an immigrant but it seems like she never really came to terms with it, she never really accepted it. For instance, I know nothing about my father’s culture, I never learned the language or interesting facts about it because nobody ever thought me anything about it. I only learned about my mother’s culture, the one of the country I lived in. And I always felt out of place because this country is extremely racist. The fact that my father was not a good husband or father has nothing to do with where he comes from. If a person is an idiot, is an idiot no matter what. And I told her this when we were talking. The fact that she had a bad experience doesn’t mean that I will, just because I’m seeing someone from a different culture. I also explained to her that I am myself an immigrant, since I’m living in another country. But it doesn’t seem to click in her head. And when I told her, to her face, that she is indeed racist, she obviously denied it, because how can she be racist if she married an immigrant herself?
And of course during today’s conversation there was some victim behavior on her side, because every time I come back here it’s certain that we are gonna fight and every time it happens I say stuff like “let’s see when and if I will come back again!”. So she was bringing that up cause the other day I said “the first racist comment I hear I’m gone”. She mentioned that, saying I don’t care about her, that she has to beg for me to call her (mind you, we write good morning, good night, text here and there during the day and we talk on the phone 3/4 times a week…). She even said that “she lost me already the moment I left”. Honestly, I don’t know what else more than this she expects from me if what I do is not enough already.
I don’t really know how to handle this. And I’m also just venting and need some support. I wished we could all act as adults, respect each other, have a normal relationship. Am I asking for too much?!
Any advice is highly appreciated.
I’ll be stuck in her house for the next two days and finally I’ll leave on Thursday. I want her to think about her actions and realize where she did wrong before I leave. I don’t wanna put this under the carpet cause it’s unacceptable.
TL;DR: my 25F mother 56F doesn’t approve of my boyfriend 28M just because of the color of his skin. Her opinion is based solely on a photo I showed her and at the same time she plays the victim and claims she lost me the moment I moved abroad and I don’t care about her even if we talk everyday. I wished there was a way to behave like adults. Advices on setting boundaries?