Hi, Guys! I’m new here and wanted to share my experience with week 1 for some positive feedback and constructive criticism. I’ll go over my background a little first. I’m 26, Female. I’ve struggled with my weight my whole life, have a very difficult relationship with food. I was diagnosed with PCOS and I’m sure this and hormonal inbalance was the culprit of my mental health. A few years ago I had a very bad mental health episode, and it resulted in me going on sertraline. That and some lifestyle changes helped, but I saw much improvement when I had a weight loss surgery in 2022, I lost quite a bit of weight, had met my partner and moved across the world, and life was on the up and up, so much that I stopped taking sertraline. Unfortunately I grew a little lazy and started putting weight back on, smoking weed, which allowed me to snack so much even when I was full. Food has always been a coping mechanism for me so smoking weed made me forget that fullness feeling and keep going. Then, I started feeling very anxious again, and it was and is being quite rough. I don’t want to get into many details but its a lot to do with obsessions, fear and so on. Depression definitely has a part and I feel it the most and most hopeful right before my period. Now as I mentioned I had pcos but the symptoms had improved tremendously, well, my period is now messed up again, I have horrible luteal phase symptoms mainly mental, and Im not regular any more either. I know for sure my pcos has to do with how I’m feeling mentally. I want to also point out that I had good breakfasts and good dinners. But, I am definitely addicted to sugar. I ate so much chocolate and sweets before bed, snacked constantly, you get it. I knew I needed a change and so I stopped smoking (this has also probably impacted my mental health), it took me a while to take the carnivore diet seriously, but my husband and I want to be at our best, especially as we are trying. Well, this first week had been rough. Emotionally it has been really difficult to navigate, and very anxiety inducing.
Below, I’ll share my feelings each day as I took some notes, but here’s what I’ve been eating this week: Fish (Mackerel), Bacon, Butter, Short Ribs, Pork Belly deep fried in ghee, Milk, Double Cream, Lots of different cheeses, Steak (flank and rib eye), chicken, Eggs, Sausages, Ground Beef, Bone Broth. I would love constructive criticism and feed back and I’m looking only for POSITIVE replies. ❤️ Thanks!
Day 1 - Excited to started. Mild cravings. Missed having bread with my breakfast and did not feel sated as I usually do, even when I was full.
Day 2 - Noticed a little more anxiety. Cravings have definitely gotten stronger. Still don’t feel sated even when I’m full.
Day 3 - Heightened anxiety, but felt better after dinner. Cravings are still strong. Didn’t have my mid afternoon usual snack as I wasn’t hungry.
Day 4 - Morning anxiety again, stomach making crazy sloshing and moving sounds all day, cravings are okay but Im not too excited to eat.
Day 5 - Went to the gym days ago and so much sore than I usually am. Sleep was ok but still anxious when I wake up, earlier in the day. Leg cramps almost took me out when I stretched in the morning!
Day 6 - Extreme anxiety in the morning, cried after breakfast and felt a surge of emotions. Didn’t have much breakfast to begin with. Interestingly enough even though my anxiety has gotten bad for months I hadn’t really cried that way in a while. Feel like I’m gonna get my period but who knows, this would be early.. Felt better throughout the day, tried magnesium for the first time to help.

Please excuse my bad grammar
As I was writing this I realized how stupid this sounds. so... yeah-
Me and all of my siblings have had an absolutely amazing relationship for as long as I can remember and we even have things called "The Kid Rules" which are basically unsaid rules that we follow to avoid fights. Disobeying them won't have a punishment or anything, but everyone is just very passive aggressive against the person who broke one of the rules. Sometimes "The Kid Rules" have to be said because one of us is stupid (Most of the time it's me). The rules are basically "whoever gets in the car first gets in the seat furthest from them" (That was because me and my sister, let's call her AA, kept fighting over the middle seat. It's ironic how we both like window seats more now...), "No telling on a sibling when their during something their not allowed to do" (Playing video games, staying up, closing our room door, etc) and theres other rules, but i can't think of them.
Me and AA had a fight, (Our daily routine🥲) Our parents were still asleep when it happened. Would Like to note that I was being 100% an idiot and AA was right the whole time, but anyway- I wanted to sleep in (We had online classes that day) and I'm not allowed to sleep past 9:30 AM, so I, being the wonderful child I am, decided to sleep in more. AA came and woke me up, I told them that I won't get in trouble and stuff, they started talking about health reasons. The arugument quickly got heated(As usual) and AA threatened to tell our parents, which is disobeying "The Kid Rules". Two days before AA got mad at me for disobeying the carseat rule (mentioned above), so I was upset. (I rarely snap at people, but when I do I'm ruder than the person I'm upset at.) One of the health reasons was that if I end up sleeping in the day and being awake at night then I won't socialize with anyone. This is when I said the thing that I regret: "We barely talk to each-other anyway now that we don't talk about our books"
(More background info! I hope you enjoy reading!) A loooonnnnngggg long time ago, in a far away land, me and AA started writing books. We would ALWAYS talk about scenes in our books, how traumatized the characters are, etc. as you may be suspecting, me and AA had a fight about our books! YAy... This fight turned into multiple fights for over a year, (One of us claimed the other had copied them) and eventually AA decided that we stop talking about our books altogether.(We both talk about our books to each-other whenever we forget) And about six months after that I started making a graphic novel, I showed a drawing of one of the main characters in the novel. The main character had earrings and they are male, and I had made the character design about a week before I showed the design to AA, but in that week AA told me about one THEIR characters who is ALSO male and ALSO has earrings- I forgot that they told me that and the NEXT day I showed them the character design. that led to another argument, which led to us not sharing our art with each-other. I honestly am a very boring person and the only hobbies I have are writing and drawing, so that felt like AA was saying we don't talk to eachother. There was another fight we had 3 years before that- I don't want to get into details because I keep doing that when its irrelevant, but after that fight Ive thought of our relationship as dead.
ANYWayyyyyy sorry for all the detours, I can't tell if half of these are relevant to what I said or not, but I feel really guilty, especially since me and AA DO talk about things other than art and our stories. I apologized and AA said that I meant it when I said it. I did, but I was wrong. This is the billionth time ive let my anger get the best of me and I was wondering is there anything I can do to let AA know that i genuinely am sorry.

There was this one show, I am almost sure it aired on Cartoon Network in 2010s' but I could be wrong. I have no idea when it got taken off the TV screens, but last time I watched it was no later than 2015. I remember it was some kind of reality show for fans of the channel, mostly for young teens. it could've been a survival game but I'm pretty sure it was a treasure hunt in the wild,like a forest or a field. I remember there were either just one team of three kids trying to win or two teams, also with three participants in each, compiting against each other. the only adult was the main male host. I'm pretty sure the participants had to find keys or collectables to unlock a tresure chest and win the game.
I remember one scene of an episode clearly. there were the three kids on the screen in black costumes with blue details and they had helmets on. they were sitting around the closed chest and being excited that they have found the key-thing. I remember a scene like that so vividly yet I can not find anything similiar on the internet.
My memory about this show is very blury and it wasnt really popular in my country, none of my friends remember anything like that. from my own research, it was not the 'Survive This' show. to my knowlage it aired only in the USA ans Canada and I live in Europe.
I am looking for this show for 2 years now and I am starting to think my memory is just getting foggy since its been so long I last watched it, but I hope you guys can help me out on this one if the show indeed existed.

Can someone explain to me specifically why this was removed, and how I’d be able to edit it without defeating the purpose of the entire story?
It was removed for breach of the “CORROBORATION/PROOF” rule, though after reviewing those terms, I don’t believe that I’ve broken them.
“A dream, a nightmare, a hallucination, a vision, a bout of sleep paralysis, is drunk and/or high, was in a coma or otherwise an altered state”— none of these are the reason behind my main character’s paranormal experience, and I’ve given no indication whatsoever in the story to suggest that they are.
In fact, I’ve outright denied the idea that my main character imagined her experience about as much as I possibly could for a story with a first person perspective.
The main character says “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,” in the second paragraph— a sentiment which she consistently attests to throughout the story, and a sentiment which is never walked back on or brought into question by the narrator.
My narrator was in a sound state of mind at the moment of her encounter, and is practical and methodical in her investigation of what happened. Any implication that she has become mentally unwell occurs long after the inciting incident which the story is built around.
I would like to respectfully request that this story be reevaluated. In the short time that it was active on nosleep, it clearly connected with people. If it cannot stand as is, then I need someone to help me make it fit the guidelines without defeating the entire purpose of the story and betraying its themes.
The nosleep subreddit is filled to the brim with stories in which the narrator’s words are taken at face value. When a narrator in a different story says “I walked to the store,” it’s not like the author HAS to give tactile, irrefutable evidence that the narrator actually walked to the store. The audience simply accepts that the narrator walked to the store. This concept of innate credibility is the bedrock upon which my entire story is built.
I do not believe my work would benefit from being altered to fit these guidelines as rigidly as possible, nor do I think that is a fair standard to hold it to. In fact, if I were to change the contents of my story in such a way, the themes which set it apart from others like it would be lost.
In short, I do not understand why my story was deleted, I do not know how to alter it to fit the guidelines beyond any shadow of a doubt without destroying its central purpose, and I refuse to believe that nosleep is not the right place for this work. I implore you to reconsider my submission, or to at least work with me to find a solution which keeps the story’s themes intact.
Here is my story:
I got grabbed
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.

My MIL is not a wealthy woman. She had a plan with her insurance where she could have $10k loan at the drop of a hat for medical purposes. I’m not sure the details beyond that (interest rate or pay back plan details).
My SIL was in a toxic relationship where her and her boyfriend would be drunk 12-20hrs a day. They got into a few domestic fights. One where she had an open wound to her lower back (superficial 2-3cm laceration which looked to be caused by glass or a small sharp object). Another fight that caused him to have a broken nose and black eye. We attempted to intervene between the two but they’d never give a full story. We’d be there during police reports to try to pull more information out but the stories would be “he tripped down the stairs” or “I stood up into a piece of glass”. We spoke individually with them about getting TROs but neither pursued one until their relationship finally ended.
They did finally leave each other after she cheated on him for the second time.
Two months after their relationship ended, my SIL went to her mom and told her she needs an emergency chest surgery because of an injury sustained during her relationship with her ex. She wanted her mom to pay for it with the medical loan and she’d pay her back overtime. Her mom called me (I work in the healthcare field and so family call me for almost anything medical related) to ask about what type of surgery she’d possibly need. I looked up the surgeon and saw that he was a local plastic surgeon who did mostly breast augmentations and lifts.
I told my MIL to find out the name of the surgery but my SIL refused to name it. I told my MIL to not give her the money without knowing what it was for.
She gave her the $10k.
My SIL got a breast augmentation. She literally got fired her first day back to work because she talked back to her boss. She hadn’t informed them that she was getting a medical procedure done. When the boss asked her to hand out food trays at an event, she said to him, “I can’t do that. Can’t you see I just got a boob job?”
She later moved out of state and got another job. She has not paid my MIL a single penny. My MIL took money out against the house to pay for it. It’s been 6 years since the surgery.
Fortunately, my MIL has stopped communicating with her daughter and therefore has stopped enabling her as well.

Introduction

Pertaining to Taylor Swift, "Female Rage" has deviated from its intended meaning after Swift debuted a new performance of The Tortured Poets Department during the Eras Tour. Now, according to Swift's use of the phrase, female rage is interpreted as public backlash against Swift's dating choices rather than as a response to the broader injustices against women and women's rights. This post examines Taylor Swift's flawed feminism, philanthropy, branding, and the controversial trademark petition for the phrase "Female Rage: The Musical". Swift's background as an entertainer, indeterminate politics, and alignment with capitalism over feminism pervades her legacy, again threatening her public tolerance as not just an individual but as a brand.

Once Upon a Female Rage...

If you were cognizant in the early 2010's, you've heard countless jabs at Taylor Swift in the media. Magazines, radio, or online. Music critics did not take her seriously as a songwriter; parents put a woman on an unrealistic pedestal as the ideal role model for their children; she dated too much and used men as lyrical fodder. No matter the story, it inevitably spread, conjoined with everyone's respective opinions, and you'd be left to wonder, "Why does everyone hate this girl so much?"
Taylor's target demographic has always been young or adolescent girls, more so when Swift herself was one. She made music that spoke to the awkward misfit, cultivating a para-social relationship with fans on MySpace, then later twitter, Instagram, and YouTube, where Taylor posted relatable vlogs showcasing the life of a homegrown American girl. Taylor had a delayed public "growing up" and, compared to her female pop contemporaries, Swift never "gratuitously sexualized her image and seems pathologically averse to controversy" (and, apparently, never even had a sip of alcohol until she turned 21). She was more than happy to spin this narrative to allude to an inherent moral superiority above other women in the industry (Better Than Revenge, heard of it?), engaging in the very slut-shaming that she herself endured (the Madonna and Whore archetypes). The victim complex arose with the need to prove Taylor as a different type of pop girl. Based upon her holy and clean image, Swift had been dubbed "a feminist's nightmare", and that "[To Swift] other girls are obstacles; undeserving enemies who steal Taylor’s soulmates with their bewitching good looks and sexual availability." Feminism and Tennessee-Christian country values don't exactly mix, it seems.
Years later, Swift befriended Lena Dunham and thus experienced white feminism osmosis, where Dunham taught Swift that real feminists defend rapists, makes insensitive jokes about rape and abortion, and prioritize all-white casts. Swift then declared herself a feminist in 2014, saying,

"Becoming friends with Lena – without her preaching to me, but just seeing why she believes what she believes, why she says what she says, why she stands for what she stands for – has made me realize that I’ve been taking a feminist stance without actually saying so."

I suppose the male-centric songwriting subject that permeates Swift's discography contained covert feminism and that we just didn't see that. Perhaps, the "Bad Blood" song and music video were written only in jest and not about poor Katy Perry, for Swift, as a feminist, would "never make it a girl fight" or tear other women down (though all Katy did was date your terrible ex-boyfriend and allegedly steal three backup dancers from your tour). In 2013, Swift said, in response to Tina Fey and Amy Poehler's joke towards her serial dating, "There is a special place in hell for women who don't help other women."
There was that time in 2015 Taylor said that Nicki Minaj was "invited to any stage [she is] on" (as if Taylor expects to have access to every stage, award, and platform that Nicki might not otherwise have as a black female artist...yikes!) in response to Nicki's criticism of the white + thin VMA nominations. Later, Nicki responded with confusion, as Swift continued, "It’s unlike you to pit women against each other. Maybe one of the men took your slot..". Of course, this 'beef' was 'squashed' when Nicki performed with Taylor at the VMAs, with Nicki quite literally only having 38 seconds of stage time without Taylor. Maybe all that parading around with a legion of famous white women - similar to the way Taylor might've done with her numerous 1989-era handbags - was in fact a stance against gender inequality, and that this display of "girl power" should be enough to constitute Swift as a feminist icon.
Even while Swift says that Dunham informed her feminist outlook, she dances around the exact contents of those beliefs: "what she believes, what she says, what she stands for" is not exactly insightful towards what beliefs Swift might have inherited. Taylor never broaches women's rights topics such femicide, FGM, forced pregnancy & marriage, sex trafficking, women in slavery, women's financial and political oppression, women's educational rights, women's health, or women's autonomy, so we can assume she only gives a fuck about "girls supporting girls" (whatever that fucking means).
Despite some questionable (and sometimes vindictive) behavior, Taylor as a young woman did not deserve every media lashing that she received. We cannot deny that most headlines and criticisms perpetuated a misogynistic rhetoric which has plagued Swift for a majority of her career. Acknowledging events such as the development of her ED, her sexual assault trial, "Famous" lyric and MV depiction of Taylor, and the explicit Twitter deepfakes, for example, as both disgusting and unfortunate things that happened to a young woman in Hollywood does not negate the fact that Taylor is mostly a performative feminist.

Get Your Fucking Ass Up and Be a Philanthropist, It Seems Like Nobody Wants to Be a Philanthropist These Days

In 2013, Taylor Swift cut the ribbon at the grand opening of the Taylor Swift Education Center at the Country Music Hall of Fame in Nashville, Tennessee. The donation amount - $4 million - was the largest individual artist gift ever donated to the Country Music Hall of Fame, which is, of course, mentioned on Swift's website. The two-story facility features three classrooms, an instrument room, and an interactive children's exhibit gallery. Swift also performed at "All for the Hall" charity shows and has donated numerous artifacts from her career (such as notable guitars, tour costumes, etc) to the museum.
This was over 11 years ago, and it is still the only notable philanthropic contribution Taylor Swift has made.
For a woman of her net worth and stature, and a woman who recognizes the difficulties for women in film and music, you would think that Taylor Swift might establish a scholarship program for women to study the arts or something. Perhaps Swift might even consider becoming a member of organizations that support female artists, or one that supports LGBTQ+ causes (since she is now proudly an ally), yet she remains superficial with her graces. Broader philanthropy, such as donating relief aid to Palestinian women or women impacted by violence and discrimination will probably never receive any financial support from Miss Swift because then she'd be using her money towards philanthropies involving anyone but white entertainers.
She even says herself in Miss Americana, "My entire moral code as a kid and now is a need to be thought of as 'good'." Well, she's certainly thought of as good, though her actions say otherwise. She's more than happy to do a vaguely altruistic song and dance for a clip-worthy interview quote and mass appeasement, then fuck off to one of her mansions on a 20 minute private jet flight, rather than actually contribute to anything pertaining to the causes she has endorsed. Yet, far too many people continue to give a woman such as her their money, time, and energy, and she hoards these resources to herself.

I Like Some of the Taylor's Songs, But What the Fuck Does She Know About Feminism?

Swift continued with her self-proclaimed feminist campaign, positioning herself as a political activist and LGBTQ+ ally in the Miss Americana documentary. The primary focus of the documentary consists of the sexual assault trial, Andrea Swift's cancer diagnosis, Taylor's ED and body dysmorphia, media scrutiny, and, largely, finally speaking up about her politics publicly, mostly her opposition to the 2018 Tennessee Republican senate candidate, Marsha Blackburn, and Blackburn's beliefs. Swift says, following a scene discussing her experience during the trial,

"I just couldn't really stop thinking about it. And I just thought to myself, next time there is any opportunity to change anything, you had better know what you stand for and what you want to say."

We must ask ourselves, though: when has Swift ever spoken up to change anything? Okay, pulling her entire catalogue from Spotify because they didn't pay their artists enough and similarly pulling her catalogue from Apple Music are changes that she leveraged due to her revenue potential and power, but they are not pertinent to the average woman's rights. Moreover, these are issues that directly impacted Taylor's income, which was enough reason for her to protest in the first place. Swift has sold the most units for a female artist in first week sales, is the first female artist with 100k monthly Spotify listeners, is the first female artist to win the Album of the Year Grammy 4 times, and is the first female artist to do X, Y, and Z, all while being inoffensive and family-friendly to boot. The actual Taylor Swift seems unwilling to compromise the brand of Taylor Swift by contributing in meaningful ways to feminist causes, especially if it is for women outside of America and Hollywood.
The reason political anthems such as "The Man" and "Only the Young" of the Lover era feel disingenuous and corporate is because, well, it is. Taylor has taken every opportunity to advance her career or public image at the expense of other women. What is truly genuine to Taylor's outlook on other women is vying for male attention, taking down female competition, and vocalizing feminist injustices only if they directly impact her and her money. Some will argue that it's satisfactory for a woman with such a huge platform to even TALK about feminism, but that just isn't enough. It's even less impressive when you candidly look at the scope of her feminist lens: "If I was the man, then I'd be THE MAN", or "I really resent the ‘Be careful, buddy, she’s going to write a song about you’ angle, because it trivialises what I do", and, of course, "We all got crowns". Feminism, but only when it happens to me. It gets worse when you look at Taylor's track record of copying other famous women and removing other female artists as potential threats to her pop prowess.
It's good for PR to align yourself with certain blanket feminist and political beliefs, therefore good for branding, therefore good for ticketing and merchandise sales, therefore good for business. And Taylor Swift is a business.
She's not a feminist. Taylor Swift is a capitalist.

I Can't Pay Those Sweatshop Workers a Livable Wage or Benefits! How Else Would I Make My Billions?

Recently, Taylor's team filed to trademark the phrase "Female Rage: The Musical" after Taylor said during Paris N1 of the Eras Tour,

"So you were the first ones to see The Tortured Poets at the Eras Tour...or as I like to call it, 'Female Rage: The Musical'."

This trademark petition was filed last week on Saturday, and news comes about just as numerous unofficial fan-made merch designs have cropped up with this phrase plastered on Fruit of the Loom basics. I'm of the opinion Swift's team motioned for a trademark so that they can send out cease & desists to all those that make knockoff merch, which disrupts potential sales for Bravado, UMG's choice merchandising company; however, since it was filed earlier, perhaps Swift has bigger plans with the bizarre use of the gendered phrase. One Swiftie referred to the phrase "female rage" as "a funny Eras Tour joke". Could it be a possible fourth version of the Eras Tour Movie? Whatever the reason, the motion to capitalize off of such a concept is disgusting, but not unsurprising, for a woman that profits on her vain feminism.
Swift, through her company, TAS Rights Managements, has also trademarked over 200 phrases, including "1989", where she owns the property rights to this calendar year on keychains, phone cases, sunglasses, stationary, bags, beverage ware, clothing, entertainment services, your subconscious, and, of course, Christmas ornaments.
The vapid consumerism in Swiftie culture is, frankly, disgusting. Bravado's sustainability statement is non-existent, the quality control is abysmal, and the materials they use are horrible. The materials, such as acrylic and polyester, are made from petrochemicals. This means they are non-renewable, shed microplastics, and are quite toxic in production. The manufacturing process to make all of those lazy-rushed Eras Tour logo graphic tees is a huge blow to environmental well-being. Apparently, though, Swifties don't give a fuck. They sell out products in seconds and either have to face the manufactured scarcity or buy from a scalper that resells for 200% of the already ridiculous retail price. This doesn't include the environmental impact of vinyl records, CD, and cassette production, of which Taylor produces many variants that sell unsustainable amounts.
If we're talking about women's rights violations, why is no one acknowledging the women that work in the inhumane sweatshop conditions that have to pump out fugly t-shirts and hats? The millions of plastic microfiber dander they are inhaling, or the toxic dyes that touch their bare skin? Are they being compensated fairly for their skilled labour and are they in safe working environments? Do these women have minimal bargaining power, and do they have authority over their worker's rights? Is Taylor Swift female raging at their injustices? Does Taylor Swift ever feels bad that her wealth was built on the backs of women of color, disadvantaged by the demands of the global economy and garment industry? Do you think she ever says a little white feminist prayer for them before she goes to sleep at night?
What's even crazier is not that Taylor herself doesn't care, it's that Swifties don't care. There CANNOT BE ethical billionaires. You only make a billion dollars if you are exploiting other human beings for capital gain. Based on public perception of the possible "Female Rage: The Musical" trademark, it seems like Swifties are already asking for merch with this phrase. "If Taylor made it, I'd buy it." Oh, cool. So not only do you champion Miss Swift's avarice and billionaire status, but you also are unashamed to admit to your blind consumption of her music and merchandise, no matter where they might originate in production or sincerity. Just as Swift takes and takes and takes, Swifties' consumerism of Taylor Swift cannot be quelled.
The tortured artist's most vulnerable and sincere poetry...available now in 21 different versions!

I Am Tortured Poet, Hear Me Whinge

Look - even if Taylor's intention is to characterize TTPD as more "tortured" and "angry", the main thread of the album is "I was ghosted by my decade-long situationship with a controversial indie boy and my fucking stupid fans wrote a 'Speak Up Now' open letter prompting me to drop him" anger, which is adequately expressed in the lyrics and performances. The extent of Taylor's "female rage" on TTPD is on tracks such as "Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?", which contends with relentless media scrutiny; "But Daddy I Love Him", where Swift firmly states she'll date whoever she likes no matter how "Sarahs and Hannahs" may react; and "The Albatross", a track mythologizing her reputation and the consequences of dating her. Of course, these coincide with deep psychological wounds that formed during Swift's early years in the media, and so, from her feminist perspective, these subjects tackle the misogyny and double standards that she faced.
Yet Taylor Swift still has no grounds to be claiming that TTPD best exemplifies female rage and therefore she, in the context of this album, is female rage incarnate. As the daughter of a stock broker and mutual fund marketing executive, Taylor was born into wealth and allowed privileges like trips and subsequent relocation to Nashville all so that she might get a record deal. Her father even invested at least $120,000 into the then-fledgling label, Big Machine Records, which ensured Taylor's place with Borchetta after leaving her dead-end development deal with Sony. The fact that her parents were able to buy her a fucking brand new guitar for Christmas and pay for music lessons says so much about the financial security and safety of her childhood.
Money is privilege and protection, and despite Swift's experiences with misogyny and loser boyfriends, she does not know what female rage is.
Her rage is derived from her frustrations with her obsessive fans pulling the moral superiority card on Taylor in response to her rebound with Matty Healy. That's literally it. She's just pissed that the monster she created is no longer obediant, it's become a feral, sovereign entity that depletes the world of its natural resources and thinks it is more intelligent than it actually is because it's mommy has started to talk to it with big words. Apparently, 'illicit', 'elegy', 'nonchalant', and 'precocious' are considerably big words for the oafish monster, and I find it strange that this level of literacy is present in a group of fans that allegedly have GPAs of 3.5 or higher, but I digress.
Taylor Swift has never been one paycheck away from destitution. Taylor Swift has never experienced racial discrimination. She may have instances of gender discrimination, but she possesses the ideal white, blonde American beauty standard and therefore reaps the benefits of being a conventionally attractive woman. Taylor Swift has sufficient social capital. Taylor Swift is a billionaire woman prolonging her victimhood though she, as a woman, has mostly had control over her image and music (unlike her contemporaries). Taylor Swift is NOT entitled to be championed for her "female rage", nor should she be. Taylor Swift has never even been the struggling artist, for fuck's sake. I don't give a fuck if she's trying to fill the empty lunch tables of her past. Taylor Swift purporting herself, her unpolished album, and her lukewarm feminism as a musical bleeding with female rage is asinine.

Sigh Try and Come For My Job, Poors

Out there in the world right now is a 23-year-old woman, a recent college grad, who works as a barista. She has to wake up and get ready to go into a minimum wage job because she cannot get a job in her field. She doesn't have healthcare benefits or sick time, so she has to go into work no matter how she's feeling. All day long she is berated by vicious customers and creepy men, and, exhausted from being on her feet, she knows she has to go home to her shitty roommate that never does the dishes and her roommate's shitty dog. To comfort herself, she considers getting a treat, but thinks against it when she remembers that matcha lattes cost $15 and they taste like milky dirt. She knows that she needs to buy groceries this week, and so the woman resolves to go home, but notices that her gas tank is low. She goes to put gas in the car, but the pump stops at $27.86 because that's all that she has in her checking account. The woman, bereft and reeling, sinks into the driver's seat. "Well," she thinks, her head in her hands, "at least I don't have Taylor Swift's job. I just couldn't imagine."
Fame is somewhat of a choice. If at any moment Taylor feels that she is misunderstood, misconstrued, or overwhelmed by public opinion, she can LEAVE the public eye - Lord knows she has the retirement fund and residuals to do so. In "I Can Do It With a Broken Heart", the TTPD song about meeting the demands of your career-zenith mega-tour while in the relationship trenches, Taylor ends the song by rambling,

"You know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart...you know you're good...and I'm good, cause I'm miserable, and no one even knows!...try and come for my job."

Yeah, obviously we wouldn't know, you recently passed the billionaire threshold and are the most famous and in-demand performer in the world right now. Taylor Swift makes an estimated $10 to $13 million dollars A NIGHT on the Eras Tour. Furthermore, the Eras Tour movie grossed $261.6 million globally, (which, as the producer, Taylor takes home 57% of the ticket sales) not counting the streaming revenue from Amazon Prime Video and the estimated $75 million deal that Disney paid to have it on Disney+. We're not even considering the income from cheap plastic popcorn buckets and drink cups plastered with colored squares in her Era-specific likeness.
It's funny. Taylor Swift often said that being famous wasn't hard, that she "isn't complaining". I'm sure it is difficult to always have to present in a good mood, else you'll end up misrepresented in the media, and I'm sure it's invasive to virtually have no privacy or semblance of anonymity. Still, Taylor Swift shows up each night of tour and performs. For a majority of her career, she has penned her sad songs while on the road. Most of "Red", her breakup album, was written in the thick of the Speak Now World tour. Now, some Swifties say they almost "feel bad" for attending the Eras Tour with Swift's revelations in this song, that they have had a 'dimmed experience' upon hearing Taylor's misery whilst performing. Despite the fact that Taylor said that "this was the happiest she's ever been" at Gilette Stadium in May, the lyrics "boohoo, woe is me, smile for the cameras and make the fans happy!!!" are jarring for Eras attendees.
While Taylor Swift was making double-digit millions a night in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil and feeling miserable, Ana Clara Benevides Machado passed away due to heat exposure. The concert promoters, Time For Fun, are now the subject of a criminal investigation due to their lack of adequate hydration and safety. Taylor Swift cancelled the Sunday show that was to follow and offered VIP tent tickets to Benevides Marchado's family, which was a kind gesture, but perhaps incongruous to the incident of which they were offered as consolation. Everyone grieves differently, of course, but I'm not sure attending the very show at the very same venue that my daughter or sister passed away in two days prior, where the singer CONTINUED the show despite her death, would be healthy for closure.
There was no female rage at the show as Swift never saw Benevides Machado pass out. There was no female rage towards the disregard for fans as humans while Swift elected to proceed with her Brazil tour dates despite the country being in historic heatwaves (at risk of overheatting herself). If Taylor Swift was so shaken by touring with a broken heart or a fan's passing, she wouldn't have added an additional North American leg of Eras just two months after the Matty breakup. She's brokenhearted but willing to mend the cracks with your money and move onward with her worldwide female rage induced pillaging.
No matter what happens, even if you die at a Taylor Swift concert, Taylor collects a big fat check and flies away. She doesn't know you as anything other than a conversion rate or earning potential despite what her nearly 20-year long parasocial relationship with fans might otherwise indicate. She knows that, while some Swifties are without disposable income, they feel obligated to spend on a "48 Hours Only!" exclusive vinyl variant instead of necessities because they are so entrenched in Taylor Swift's intoxicating celebrity, they'll prioritize materialistic fandom before their needs. This is good enough for her because this means she can expand her real estate portfolio and finance her cat's lavish lifestyles. They're worth an estimated $100 million dollars. Her three cats could pool their net worth and solve world hunger.
While you and I might be denied bereavement leave and barely surviving the current political and economic climate, Taylor Swift has to, instead of gets to, perform for stadiums at full attendance for three nights in a row across the globe. You and I might be replaced by AI at our longtime jobs, but Taylor Swift is threatened with losing more and more money each time you listen to a "Stolen Version" of her songs. If we don't buy every variant of all of her albums, then who is going to pay for the fucking cats?
It is tone deaf to spend as she spends and lives as she lives in this economy, but this is her reality. She was able to donate $100,000 to all of her tour truck drivers, and that's wonderful, but it leads me to wonder about the ethos of the 2020s where one woman can hoard such life-changing amounts of money. Remember in 2014 when she gave a fan $90 ($120 in today's money) to get Chipotle because she had no fucking clue how much it cost? This is a 34-year-old woman who is increasingly out of touch with the reality for working class people and women in general. Normal everyday adults must wake up and go to their thankless jobs, and yet Taylor Swift, despite all her riches, incessantly references the lows of her life and career as a public figure and entertainer to farm sympathy and drive sales. And still, the corporate women have latched onto "I cry a lot, but I am so productive! It's an art!" as their cubicle battle cry.
Do you think that, from up in her private jet, Taylor Swift gazes at the world through her poetic, tortured eyes, and thinks, "All the little people, in their cars, walking, going about their lives...all those girls that don't support girls...do they know that I've made an album about female rage?"

Conclusion/TLDR

Thank you for reading. I would love to hear your critical insights towards this entire ordeal: TTPD, the trademark, the implications of it all.
TLDR: Taylor Swift is a bad feminist and is delusional to think that the TTPD eras set exemplifies female rage at women's injustice.

About a year ago, I [29 M] was in a toxic relationship with J [29 M]. While there were no serious stakes in it (no kids or messy finances), the relationship and breakup ended up emotionally affecting me in a way I had never really thought possible. I feel guilty because after the relationship I tried to be friends with my ex still, which I now see as a mistake in the context of this relationship, and then after a few months, he blocked me because I didn't respect a boundary he had set about not sending him long messages. He said he didn't feel safe since I "completely ignored" the boundary.
I was devastated, but over the course of the next few months, came to understand a great deal of ways that I feel that I had been abused during the relationship. I felt angrier and angrier, and even though I was seeing a therapist, it eventually boiled over. My ex had blocked me on discord and probably on text, but I went onto an astrology app called Co-Star that he had had me download, and sent a message using it that said something like, "You were an abusive partner, but you can make it right with an apology."
Now, I have no idea if he actually saw the message. It was sent with a weird feature of the app called Chaos Mode that apparently chooses to send the message at some future time, so who knows if it actually ever sent. I don't know if he still has the app, if he unfriended me, or whatnot. But I feel guilty because I enacted exactly the caricature of me that he had created--I hadn't respected his boundaries, and I sent the message anyways.
At the same time, I am still feeling very victimized by the relationship. To give you a sense of the kinds of things that were going on in the relationship, here's a few examples that I currently find a little horrific [Note: this kind of turned into a summary of the relationship after I wrote it]. I'm aware that to heal I should probably not be ruminating about these things, especially if they lead me to boil over and message him, but here you go.
The first time I had sex with him, he slammed the door on me for not being able to finish and said "finish yourself." When I came to bed, I told him I felt shame. He said "good." The next time we had sex, he set a timer for me and said I had to finish within 5 minutes. These were the first times I ever had sex. He was manipulative in bed, telling me he didn't want to perform certain acts because I didn't give him enough praise for them, so that I started exaggerating my pleasure; he blamed me for why certain positions weren't working and was frustrated with how my body worked. On top of this, he admitted at the end of the relationship to having had sex with me around five times after he decided to break up with me (before he did), which just makes me feel a bit icky.
He would put me down in pretty transparently cruel ways. One example was when I exerted myself, he said I sounded like a muppet and that he "didn't want to be dating a muppet." When I offered him a blanket but apologized that it might not have been washed in a while, he called me a baby. He would insult my ability to give complements, asking me to tell him what color his eyes are but then rejecting everything that I gave him, telling me I was bad at complements repeatedly (and saying that it wasn't fair of him because his other exes were artists, so no wonder I was bad). Now, there were times that he was complementary to me--he told me I was hot, good at singing, good at writing, smart--but also times where he would put me down for things I was less good at, like cooking.
He constantly made me feel insecure about my gender. (For context, we are both men, but he was raised as a woman). So he would make pretty sweeping feminist critiques over fairly mundane things, like if I complained when I was sick he would go off about how men are always babies when they are sick and women don't get attention. When I confronted him about some of the things he was saying, telling him that while I wanted him to express these kinds of social problems so that I could be aware and adapt, I was feeling insecure in the relationship--he flipped it around and told me that if I didn't feel loved, he could say "I love you" less, and that I hadn't been grateful enough for when he came to visit me. (I had written him poetry, deep cleaned my apartment, taken time off work, sent my roommate off for the week, bought him a bus pass, planned his visit, met him in the airport despite not having a car, and just an insane amount of work to be turned into, "you weren't grateful enough").
Other than namecalling, he was just plain controlling. The reason that the boundary around me not sending long messages exists is that when I felt insecure--which I think makes sense given the ways he would talk to me--I would often send him a few paragraphs apologizing and explaining how I was growing. Even though long messages were the first thing he said he loved about me, and that he said our communication was like magic, he eventually set up what he called an "Essay embargo" and told me not to write them. The first time he set the "embargo", he had said it was only until we met in person because he didn't want me to write anything that would make him nervous. After we met in person, I assumed the embargo had lifted. Yet shortly after, he set it again, giving a few explanations--the main one just being that he wanted to appreciate our relationship without overthinking it. It seemed playful. He definitely did also say that long messages made him uncomfortable because he felt obligated to send a response. So, when I did send messages, I would add that he didn't have to respond (which I realize is not fully respecting the boundary). I did ask after sending messages whether they were ok and he never responded to those questions.
Despite this, there were times during the relationship that I continued to send long, often apologetic messages. I had felt like this boundary was set playfully and I also was feeling overwhelming guilt that I, for whatever reason, needed his affirmation for. I am conflicted because on the one hand, I was definitely ignoring his boundary--but on the other, I feel like the boundary was not very thoughtful of my own needs, either.
Prior to the breakup, it was hell. He was getting angry at me for everything--for pretty mundane things like using the bathroom before him and stinking it up. He told me he had to show me how to do everything, but I realize now that a lot of this was just him being particular (e.g, he told me I don't know how to drink tea because I left the bag in, when I just like it strong). Unfortunately, I had flown 5,000 miles to visit him and was sort of trapped in his proximity, and was drunk on love still since I was trying very hard, it was my first relationship, and he had sold me on notions of fairytale romance and told me we were cosmically meant to be together and other lovebomby sort of things. At one point, he missed a turn while driving with GPS and got angry at me for not helping--he disconnected his phone and threw it sideways at me (I guess so I could navigate for him, but it was a pretty retaliatory motion). We flew to a convention and I met some of his friends, and at one point he introduced me to a girl he had almost dated before, saying I was a friend and not a partner. I pointed this out to him later and he just said "does that make you angry?". He flirted with a woman at a party, telling her she was pretty while demanding that i bring him snacks (I feel so, so weak for not confronting him about this). He got drunk and I stayed with him as he passed out, but he was angry at me in the morning. When one of his friends told me they thought I was nice, because i was opening doors for everyone, my ex said "Is he really?" Questioning them.
The breakup itself was cold and calculated. He started it by telling me that he thought about not giving me any reasons for the breakup because I always overanalyze things. He told me he wouldn't have broken up with me if I was a woman. He told me I didn't take care of him and he needs a partner that takes care of him, and that his partners always feel taken care of. He threw some things I had said at the beginning of the relationship back at me--misquoting and misunderstanding them.
After the relationship, I had no idea what to think. It was my first relationship. It had started with fairytale romance. I had been passing his tests, I had been an exception to his long string of abusive relationships. He presented himself as this incredibly moral person (vegan, environmentally conscious, telling me of all of the ways others had abused him that he would never do, even his closest friends). I had completely internalized criticisms that he had had of me throughout the relationship, many of which had led to serious self reflection and my writing messages about my growth. Within a week I told him I still loved him and that I always would. He reminded me of his boundary around long messages and said they made him anxious. I was desperate. We took a few weeks of no-contact. We messaged short-messages back and forth, with a few life-updates to eachother each. He told me he was rescuing a kitten that he found, and I remembered how he could be kind.
But as I processed, more and more, I felt angry. I wrote unsent angry letters in the notes app on my phone for a month. I wrote myself a 20,000 word summary of the relationship. This was not a healthy way to process. It elevated me. (Some of you will probably comment that maybe I shouldn't have written this post for the same reason, but oh well--I wanted to process and I want to hear if others have similar stories). Meanwhile, my ex kept pushing back the date for when we would verbally connect again. Eventually, I boiled over. I did not insult him. But I wrote a long message explaining that I wanted to take 3 months of no-contact. I had entered another relationship and told him that even though I was feeling angry at him, he shouldn't be worried because even though I had baggage from the relationship, I was communicating well with my new partner. I also told him that I felt like if I did talk with him, that I would end up tearing him a new one, and that I needed time to cool down. I'm not proud of the message in general, but I didn't call names, tell him he was awful, or anything like that. I was just insensitive and told him I was angry.
And like that, I was blocked. It was over. A period of about 9 months, five of which we were together, with two before escalating towards love bombing and two after escalating towards my boiling over.
And yet, I had never expressed to him that I thought he had been abusive. I felt frustrated that I had told him that I would always love him, when in many ways now I hated him.
Five months passed, during which I came to realize more and more how messed up the relationship was.
And then I sent the message on Co-star.
Fast forward another four months to now.
I just sent him a text, knowing he probably has blocked me there too. It said something like, "I want my last message to you just be: I'm sorry, and I forgive you." I wanted to free myself. I needed to not feel angry at him or ashamed of myself. I needed to not feel like I had a million things to say to him--I needed to just say, this is it: I'm not sending more messages. I'm sorry, and I forgive you. It was for myself. I was forgiving him selfishly, even though he didn't deserve it, so that I could move on.
I feel like I shouldn't have sent this, but I don't feel bad about it yet, either. I needed closure. It always felt like there was some "message I could send" to detail his abuse, and I needed to not have that standing over me--I needed to forgive. I am now oscillating between wondering about myself--whether I have a problem with boundaries, since I had boiled over at this point three times to message him. Feeling frustrated I didn't assert myself about his abuse, that I doubled down on loving him. Part of me is glad that I sent the message on Co-Star saying that he was abusive, because it was the only indication I ever gave him, really, that what he did wasn't ok to me--he had blocked me before I could articulate anything. But I also know that this message even if received would not mean anything to him.
Anyways, now I'm venting about it here on Reddit. Does anyone have similar experiences surrounding self control messaging exes and feeling a bit out of control?

My ex and I dated for about 2.5-3 years before we broke up about a month ago but were friends for years before this so there is a lot of experience and love between us. We tried opening up relationship for the past year and I just found it wasn’t for me. I feel some guilt around not being able to handle polyamory but I think thats because I also became slightly convinced during this time that all monogamy = toxic monogamy. I have a lot of cheating trauma from past relationships so, while logically I can kind of understand the benefits of poly, it emotionally just causes me distress.
I have been in therapy for a year and a half now and was trying really hard to do the work needed for me to feel safe and secure in polyamory. But at the end of the day, after a year of nervous system dysregulation, stress dreams, constant anxiety, and many fights caused by my insecurities, I had to admit that I couldnt handle it. My ex has a current blossoming relationship with at least one other woman right now and I am struggling really badly with him feeling okay enough to pursue her after all that we have lost.
We definitely werent perfect, but most of our issues could have been fixed with him also being in therapy and us slowly reconnecting after a break to focus on ourselves, but he seems certain now that monogamy isnt for him. He says its not because I wasnt enough for him but I find that hard to believe. I am sitting here grieving, missing him, in too much pain to even think about dates or sex but he feels he could handle it all right now. He says hes in pain too, and with the love we had he has to be, so part of me feels like hes only “ready to move on” so he can escape those hard feelings.
He showed me a kind of love I never thought possible for myself, we aligned on so much, had dreams of having a farm one day and seeing the world together. And now its all thrown away because he wants to be able to date multiple women at a time. He says I was the love of his life. And I want to believe that but its hard. Part of me wants to also just find someone else to distract myself with but I know thats not healthy and wouldnt make me feel good so I wont. I guess im just looking for support, anyone whos been in a similar situation, advice on letting go of a relationship where theres still love but youre just not aligned anymore. I wanted him to be it and I feel like Im getting too old to start over for some reason. Has anyone been in a similar situation?
I have left out a lot of details regarding the timeline of things, how the transition to poly was handled, etc. for length purposes so if theres any questions please ask.
tldr: Boyfriend of 3 years and I had to split because he wants polyamory and I do not. Struggling with him already have potential new partners and feeling like I wasnt enough.

This all happened last summer shortly after my paternal grandmother died, and I’ve just managed to get everything in order for the judgement of internet strangers. I did my best to provide context were I could.
TL;DR: We found out we have a half sister after our grandmother died and after we were done dealing with a variety of family issues. The Half-sister contacted us against the wishes of our dad and late grandmother. Due to a variety of reasons, we made the family decision to have nothing to do with her.
So for context:
My dad emigrated from Mexico to California with his family to look for work. He and my mom were childhood sweethearts but they were not together when he left Mexico for California. This is confirmed by my parents and my uncles.
While in California, my dad met this woman and they messed around a little bit. He says it wasn’t that serious of a relationship. He was young, got drunk often and she was young and pretty. I believe my dad was in his early twenties as was this girl if my math is right. This girl was also a known flirt and slept around a lot. Naturally, she gets pregnant and claims its my dad’s. He doesn’t believe her despite her insisting its his baby so he dips.
(Based on the info from my dad, and what my sister could gather, my dad was the only one with a stable job so we think she was trying to baby trap him. I’m not trying to make excuses, my dad isnt perfect but he’s honest and loves my mom).
My dad’s family, especially his sister, did NOT like this lady at all due to the aforementioned sleeping around so she helps him get to texas. My mom had just emigrated as well and my dad wanted to be with my mom. So he leaves this girl. Baby Momma threatened with child support, or that she would abort the baby if he left which pissed my dad off. When you’re mexican and catholic, threatening an abortion is a no no. So he leaves her, meets back up with my mom, married her, and I come along. We hear nothing of them for a while and its not like the lady couldnt track him down.
Flashforward to a few years. My mom gets a call from BM’s brother where he yells at her and my dad calling him a piece of shit for leaving BM and the baby. My dad ended up taking the phone and said again, the baby isnt his, and that he wants nothing to do with them and to never contact his family again. My mom was then aware of the other girl and she was mad, but again, they weren’t together and my dad was young drunk and stupid. So they push it down, ignore it, move on and forget.
Then my grandmother died. She knew about the other girl and she believes that it is my dad’s. My grandma would travel between our house and my uncles in california where she would meet with the other girl. Everyone on my dad’s side does think she’s his daughter.
Added context that is important.
For my mom, and only my mom, my dad stopped drinking and was sober for almost 23 years. However, in 2020, being surrounded by other alcoholics and being away for days for a job, he started drinking again. My dad helps build houses and would sometimes go all the way to oklahoma Or lousiana for a job. No he didn’t cheat. His coworkers actually teased him because he called my mom so often just to talk to her. I need y’all to understand that my dad loves my mom. He would move mountains for her. He’s not a perfect person, but he was a good dad and husband. Never hit us. Never raised his voice. We destroyed his model car collection that included some expensive pieces as kids. He didn’t ell he saw we were happy and tried to hide the survivors better. He gave my mom everything.
When she found out, they fought so badly it tore them apart. My dad is also stubborn to a fault and believed he could manage it. In the end, it got bad wnough my mom let me. Have a go at him because he was not listening or doing anything. He was also stressed as my sister was in bootcamp and I was getting married. So i think drinking was just easier for him.
I tore into him that day. I cornered him and confronted him for refusing help even though we offered. I told him how much it was hurting mom and when he refused to listen, I threatened to kick him out of my wedding if he didn’t do something about his drinking. He finally did especially after we think all their bad energy attracted an evil entity. I can elaborate if asked but its not relevant. Quit cold turkey again and he and my mom talked about how they would move forward. They began going to church a lot more often, all is good. My dad is doing better emotionally and is trying to make up with my mom. We have a conversation with my mom about being more patien and communicating more.
In all of this, my mom was dealing with liver issues and the stress of all of this was not helping.
Back to the story.
My grandmother died in march of 2023. I meet my cousins through video chat bc they were in Mexico. They video the service and funeral most of which we paid for. My dad bought a beautiful coffin for her, paid for roses and the gravestone. We paid for mariachi because my grandma always wanted mariachi for her funeral. We mourn, we move on.
My halfsister contacts my dad first to try and talk to him. My dad tells her again to leave us be that we want nothing to do with her. My dad’s number is public because thats how he gets jobs. So thats how she contacted him.
So she contacts us.
No one told us about her. She knew about us because my grandma would tell her about us. But we didn’t know about her. Everyone left it up to my dad to lake that decision and he never did.
My sister and I are both contacted by this girl through facebook. The profile is new and I’d almost gotten scammed once so we’re suspicious. We play along, ask for ID, video, proof. Everything. She provides it all. BC we thought she was a scammer, we weren’t exactly nice. So we’re thinking there might be some truth. We call my dad, he denies it. Call my mom, he denies it. I have my sister call him for me again because she’s better about getting things out of him. I call an uncle that Half Sister says knows about her.
Finally, they tell us everything that y’all just read. My sister and I are reeling, but we don’t tell the other three siblings. My mom is upset wanting to know why this girl is bothering us and that she doesn’t want her bothering us. She and my dad fight and my sister and I head to them (we’d moved out). We talk to our siblings separately.
My sister and I decide we don’t want anything to do with her. She is a stranger to us, and our parents are in a good place right now. They deserve peace. Not to mention, she went against the wishes of our grandma and my mom was still dealing with her liver issues. They could not. Handle another big issue right now.
So we gather everyone. Tell my parents that my sister and I want to tell our siblings together as a family and make a decision as a family. We preemptively talked to our siblings and agreed we wanted nothing to do with her.
I would rather not get into too many details. My mom spiraled. We both have anxiety but only one of us (me) sought a therapist. She was convinced my dad would leave her and that we would hate her or turn against her. (She is not a narcissist. She has anxiety shes finally learning to manage it). I removed my mom and brought her outside to breathe while my sister talked with my dad. Both me and my dad struggle to voice what we want to say and so it was becoming a bad cycle with my mom not being fair to him. My sister helps my dad word what he wants to say. But my sister and I get a handle on the situation. When we planned this, we knew we wanted to make sure mom was good. Dad already made his opinion in the matter clear. We just also knew our mom.
My dad reaffirms that he loves my mom, and us and doesn’t want to leave her. He also tells us that its our decision if we want to talk to this girl. My siblings and us all agree that we don’t want anything to do with her. We spend some time talking, winding down, go to ihop and head home.
Where I feel bad for her:
She wanted to meet us and get to know us. My parents had five of us and we are all very close while she was an only child. So I understand where she's coming from and I have a lot of sympathy from her. She knew parts of our extended family and whatever my grandmother told her about us. You see videos online of adoptees or people who were seperated from their parents who want to reconnect with their families and they are hailed for it. Even a scroll through the comment section people praise them for the attempt and villify the family if they reject them. And I understand why she wants to meet us. We're her siblings, but I can't bring myself to.
My parents just got done dealing with my dad's relapse into drinking. My mom had forgiven him and were trying to move past it. My mom could not handle any more stress due to her liver (or maybe it was her kidneys. The doctors said she needed to watch out for her blood pressure). My sister and I knew that this would be an issue and we did our best to deal with it and act as family counselors. My parents aren't perfect, but they're good parents and raised us well and I know they love each other. They recently had a proper wedding ceremony after twenty six years. Our siblings and I are starting to finally give back to them (taking them out to eat, giving them nice gifts, replacing the model cars we destroyed years ago). We would do just about anything to make them happy.
In my eyes, our half sister (if she is blood related) went against my grandmother's wishes and only contacted us AFTER my grandmother had been dead for a few months. And then, after my dad told her not to bother us, she contacted my sister and I. I loved my grandmother. We were devastated when she died so right as we're starting to recover from that, we get with this and it pissed me off.
I understand she wants to get to know us, but I don't want anything to do with her and my siblings (even after talking with them) agreed. We don't know her. We are happy where we are right now and don't want anything that is going to ruin that. She is a stranger that is going to upend the peace that we finally have. And now, a year later, she is all but forgotten to us because to us, she really isn't anything. And its not like she's not doing well for herself. She's works as a nurse and is living her life.
So Reddit, am I the asshole (or are we the assholes) for wanting nothing to do with our half-sister who we never met and didn't know existed?

During the 'fake ending' of 2.2, we engage in a navigation meeting with the Astral Express Crew to vote which planet to go to next. Of course, given how much time and effort goes into creating a planet, it's unlikely the player will actually be able to choose to next destination. In 2.3, it is likely we'll have the next planet revealed, with no choice of which it will be. Still, we can have a little fun speculating things.

Where are we Going?

During the meeting, we are given 4 options: Lushaka, Patrevia, Melustanin and Edo Star. Depending on the decision you make, the result of the vote will change. However, one opinion seems to appear in every vote: Edo Star.

Option	Votes
Lushaka	3 votes for Lushaka, 2 votes for Edo Star
Melustanin	3 votes for Melustanin, 2 votes for Edo Star
Edo Star	All votes for Edo Star
Patrevia	(I don't have this data)
I can't make up my mind	All votes for Edo Star

Unlike the other planets which the Crew is only interested in for their touristic purposes, Edo Star is in mortal peril.
Edo Star has been under attack from the Antimatter Legion for a while now. In the discussion, they mention distress signals from the planet have ceased, and the IPC wants the Express to investigate. Now, this last part might have been false, given we're in the dream at that point. However, the Antimatter Legion part is something we know to be true from the Destruction of the Destroyer text.
It's reasonable to assume the crew will end up pivoting towards this destination in the end.

But then... what can we expect? Well, here's some speculation:

1. It may be the most treacherous planet we've visited yet, being in an Ion Storm region and being besieged by the Antimatter Legion.
2. It's possible there will have already been great damage and destruction to the planet's civilisation
3. While this may be a bit of a Planet of the Hats interpretation, it is likely Edo Star will be heavily inspired by Japanese culture, given the use of the name Edo.
4. According to Forla, Edo Star has great houses of music where they sing ancient ballads, so we might get some Japanese vocal works.

Notably, Edo would not be the only Japanese inspired world, as Izumo is similarly Japanese. However, Izumo is gone. If we ever explore what Izumo was in a Simulated Universe or similar mode, Edo and Izumo may appear redundant if they don't make sure to have a distinct aesthetic. However, there should be enough to work with to make that distinction.
https://preview.redd.it/hc4vn0otvd0d1.png?width=2925&format=png&auto=webp&s=2a22051be09153435464e0b6a359f708ee4d9773
If we assume for a moment that the planet depicted in Sparkle's Myriad Celestia trailer is in fact Edo Star, that distinction should not be an issue. While both are futuristic, Edo's portrayal is more neon, whilst Izumo is more sober, relying more on abstract shapes and designs.
https://preview.redd.it/2nkt948ovd0d1.png?width=2919&format=png&auto=webp&s=e4c1ba433d566c4372b47b2dd8eef59b691176e9

Part 2: Who will be there?

If we do go to Edo Star, what can we expect from the characters? Let's have a looksie.
First, let's talk about the people we already know:
1. The Astral Express Crew:
Of course, our core members will be along for the ride. As for who stays on board the Express this time: I don't have much of a theory. I'd be inclined to think March, because she's the only one who hasn't stuck behind yet, but there's not much to go on.
https://preview.redd.it/9qpw0v8eaf0d1.png?width=1277&format=png&auto=webp&s=d893b6dbe5e96b2cb5f85545f0f47334f920b250
2. Black Swan and Boothill?
While it was a nice dream to have them join the ride for a bit, I'm not convinced this will actually happen. Black Swan has her own agendas and travel methods, and Boothill doesn't seem like he'd have business on Edo Star, and he has a hunt to do. Well, 2.3 will likely reveal more. Who knows? Maybe they'll have reasons to come along after all.
https://preview.redd.it/poh15foexe0d1.png?width=365&format=png&auto=webp&s=cad37485b4e22571bd5d1d5d0edf94de9c40cc36
3. Sparkle:
As the character most heavily implied to come from a place like Edo Star, Sparkle being a returning character for its plot would make sense. However, as a Masked Fool travelling the cosmos, she could also just be mucking about wherever. If she is from Edo though, we can at least expect some mention of her background there. That said, there's no guarantee the planet we saw even is Edo Star to begin with.
Other Masked Fools like Sampo or Giovanni also always have a good chance of popping up.
https://preview.redd.it/hgfgpd3o8f0d1.png?width=184&format=png&auto=webp&s=71d8daef85bdd3238508c55af78c7c4c7b4e9c93
4. IPC/Genius Society/Intelligensia Guild characters:
I know, these three factions aren't the same. But I'm mentioning them for the same reasons: All of them could easily have business at Edo Star. Be it to investigate the Ion Storm, or to deal with the Legion situation.
5. Stellaron Hunters:
It would be a bit odd for them to go completely silent, as it appears they need to be pretty hands-on with Trailblazer's trajectory to achieve their goals.
6. Acheron:
While I think she'll probably slink into the background after what happened now in 2.2, I don't think this is the last we've seen of her. While I don't think it would be a good fit for the main Trailblaze Mission, the idea of a side mission that's just Acheron landing on Edo and engaging with the world with both familiarity and alienation could be very interesting to watch.
https://preview.redd.it/nhir0tt19f0d1.png?width=184&format=png&auto=webp&s=4babc782a0c9d34a8adfbf8aa86979dde2753216
7. Tingyun:
This one's a bit more of a stretch. We know Tingyun likely got involved with the Legion somewhere on her trips, so it's not impossible we may find traces of her at Edo Star.

But what about the people we don't know?

NEW characters: HSR mentions a lot of names, but there are none so far that have any known relation to Edo. Also worth noting is that 'newcast' characters outnumber the 'variants' from previous game with over 3 to 1. We will definitely see a lot of new faces. In fact, Penacony only had 1 character so far we can assume without question is a variant (Acheron), while the rest were all newcast.
But you can't really speculate based on nothing. So what are the variants we can expect to meet? To be honest, there are way too many characters that could work for Edo Star versions. Yanqing and Kafka have shown us miHoYo does not mind picking some of the more obscure figures. But once you start counting side characters and stigmata, well, the list becomes absurdly long.
So let's stick to some highlight candidates:
1. Yae Sakura/Kasumi/Miko:
Yae is a prime candidate for a new version. A mainstay figure with versions across Guns GirlZ, Honkai Impact 3rd and Genshin Impact. Who has a big life sized statue dedicated to her at miHoYo HQ. Who's one of the most popular characters in the roster, and has her own song. I can't imagine miHoYo not including her.
This also brings good odds of some variants of Yae Rin and Higokumaru/Hellmaru to show up. Yae's little sister and the Bake Kitsune that is often tied into her narrative.
https://preview.redd.it/k4o96pl6df0d1.png?width=982&format=png&auto=webp&s=9c20138db0ef87c0b37b37632c6747e91379e833
2. Kallen Kaslana
While it's not unheard of, it's uncommon for a Yae not to have a connection to a Kallen. Kallen Kaslana has two major facets of her identity: Her adventures in Europe, and her adventures in Japan. In fact, in one world, she rose to dictatorship trying to resurrect her beloved Yae.
(Yes, this is official art posted by miHoYo)
3. Theresa Apocalypse
Theresa is an odd character. Perhaps with the most flexible identity of the recurring main cast, Theresa has done it all. She's had different names, hair colours, eye colours and even nationalities and ethnicities. Nevertheless, in several of her versions she ends up tied to Yae or Japan in one way or another, making her a decent candidate for appearing in some shape or form on Edo Star.
https://preview.redd.it/chygo5engf0d1.png?width=1180&format=png&auto=webp&s=a388b95076125b0769b3f336a5807ea659dc5f29
4. Shigure Kira
Playing roles in both GGZ and HI3, Kira is an often overlooked multigame cast member. Shigure Kira seems like a prime candidate for Edo Star. Not only does she have a Japanese background, but she also fits perfectly with the one thing we do know about Edo: The music houses. Why? Because in HI3 Shigure Kira is an idol who cannot sing. Additionally, she's typically regarded as one of the strongest warriors around, which could allow her to fit both into the cultural landscape of Edo Star and the war with the Legion.
https://preview.redd.it/6p8xqmiehf0d1.png?width=625&format=png&auto=webp&s=9ca33251cec8d88d8597e19bf14b242e3a0d3813
5. Hokushin Mei
Raiden Mei's ancestor Hokushin Mei is mostly prevalent in GGZ. (Mei is the given name. It's not a direct lineage). It could be a way to bring in another Mei while tapping into a different identity.
https://preview.redd.it/0nnzlw9whf0d1.png?width=640&format=png&auto=webp&s=3cc4e36b82fb13302784d452ba07a436e668e733
6. Raiden Mei and Raiden Ryouma
Yes, I know, there's already Acheron. But we also have two Bronyas already! It's not unlikely another Raiden Mei would appear. The only think that makes me think she won't is that it could be considered a bit soon.
But another avenue they could explore is to instead use her dad. Ryouma. Appearing in both GGZ and HI3, but with a bigger role in GGZ, Ryouma is one of those dudes players would love to see playable, and HSR could be his first opportunity to become it.
https://preview.redd.it/lzymnpvnif0d1.png?width=1024&format=png&auto=webp&s=9c97e99b1ab1978d48fcc292b4f37d1aabf29156
7. Murata Himeko and Murata Ryusuke
Another Himeko?! Another Himeko. She is Japanese. It could be a good opportunity to delve into the Express Crew themselves running into variants.
Similar to with Ryouma, they could instead bring in Ryusuke. This could be especially interesting if he runs into Welt, as Earth's Ryuusuke tried to kill him before.
Making deals with eldritch beings to get space powers isn't something that'd be out of place in a plot about a war with the Legion.
https://preview.redd.it/e81vnr2vjf0d1.png?width=358&format=png&auto=webp&s=8bbc3636dc26a29efa7c5d1153ab60a49bdba294
8. Any fitting character from GGZ
While it's clear GGZ still influences the identities of the multigame cast (such as Seele's Belobog design taking from her Firemoth version), we have yet to see a character in HSR we can say beyond doubt is based on a GGZ character. GGZ does have a lot of characters tied to its Japan though, and several with Japanese backgrounds too. Perhaps Edo Star could give us the first. Perhaps not. We can't know until it happens.
https://preview.redd.it/6thpa5vklf0d1.png?width=617&format=png&auto=webp&s=6869be1a24a54285f4bcdbf99dd70d7e74980a94

And if it turns out we don't go to Edo Star after all.... Well, it was fun anyway.

What do you think? Will we be visiting Edo Star next? What do you think the planet will be like? What faces do you expect to see?

Probably life has no meaning. We humans are arrogant: we think the entire universe was created just for us, but this view is increasingly anachronistic. Especially since the hypothesis of the existence of alien life is not so remote. But even putting aside the idea of alien life, there are many other forms of life on Earth different from human life. Essentially, we humans have come out on top in the race of evolution, thanks to a series of conditions and coincidences. Imagine in a parallel universe pigs ruling the world, with their own culture, philosophy, science, and religion. It sounds strange, right? But we might also seem ridiculous in the eyes of a more evolved society. They might laugh at our philosophers, our scientific theories, and our religions. So, perhaps the knowledge we have today isn't so truthful after all. Maybe it's relative to the viewpoint we have at this moment. But then, what should we do, given that we're insignificant compared to everything else? In my opinion, we should make the most of our life experience. There's no absolute truth, so we're free to see things as we want. Even if we tend to see the world negatively, I think it makes more sense to view things positively. It's more useful to ourselves. And maybe our scientific and intellectual progress will lead us to a conclusion. And even if it doesn't lead us anywhere, in the meantime, you will have lived your life positively. I want to conclude with an example: if friends take you to a party you don't want to attend, does it make more sense to spend the evening sad and angry or to try to have fun? This shows that even things that may seem stupid and illogical can be useful if they make you enjoy life more. We don't know what's truly true and we probably never will, so no judgment towards anything is justified.

Duchenne muscular dystrophy (DMD) is a genetic disorder that progressively weakens muscles due to a defective gene responsible for producing dystrophin.
It mostly affects males because the faulty gene is on the X chromosome. But females can be carriers and have some milder symptoms.
DMD typically begins showing symptoms between ages 2 and 5. Children with DMD often struggle with walking, running, jumping, and frequently fall.
The condition starts with muscle weakness in the legs and pelvis, gradually affecting the arms and other areas, leading many affected boys to require a wheelchair by their early teens.
There is no cure but treatments such as physical therapy, medications and sometimes surgery can help manage symptoms and improve quality of life.
More information: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Duchenne_muscular_dystrophy

Two years ago, I had just moved to a new house from a different neighbourhood for work. I was settling in and getting used to the place, but I was still lonely and went through bouts of depression.
My ex-boyfriend of five years had ended the relationship a while before I moved, and I wasn't having much luck going on dates. I eventually decided to focus my energy into work and fitness instead, but the loneliness lingered. The house still felt empty at times, and the silence was painful. I went through the motions numbly as the days passed by.
About two months after I had moved in, I started noticed a stray dog pacing around my front yard from time to time. It had big, brown, sad eyes, and there was no collar around its neck. I couldn't tell you what breed it was - a reverse Google image search tells me it looks like an Indian Pariah dog. I could always recognize it, as its left eye was slightly larger and darker than the right, but that gave it some unique charm. After seeing it outside my front door for three days straight, I put up some posters along my street inviting anyone who might have lost a dog to call me. I quickly learned that I probably shouldn't have done that, after getting a few silent calls from an unknown number that I eventually chalked up to being a prankster or some scammer.
I called a local animal shelter and them pictures of the dog. A guy came over to scan the dog for a microchip, but found nothing. He said it was most likely abandoned as a puppy. He could take it back to the shelter, or I could look after it for the time being - they would contact me if anyone ever tried to claim it. My grandad had a german shepherd that I used to love playing with, so I always had a soft spot for dogs and agreed to look after it, even if it was for a while. The guy from the animal shelter advised that if I didn't hear back in a week, I should take it to the vet to get it checked out and microchipped, or to the shelter if I didn't want to keep it.
I took care of the dog and let it roam around the living room, with free access to the back yard. I decided to name him Charlie, and purchased more dog food, a labelled dog collar, some brushes to groom him with and dog toys. The nearest vet was a two hour drive away. Work was busy so I wasn't incredibly flexible for a visit, but I managed to get an appointment booked in two weeks' time.
The first night I spent with Charlie, I realized that he might just be what I needed in my life. Late in the evening, I sat on the couch looking at him, sitting quietly in the middle of the room on my wooden floor. I began talking out loud to Charlie. It seemed stupid at first, but the way he sat quietly and listened was comforting. After a while, I got more into it, and vented about my loneliness and frustrations to the point of tears.
How I stayed with my cheating, gaslighting ex-boyfriend because I was too insecure to be alone, until he dumped me. All my failed dates, and how I thought I would die alone and unloved. I poured my heart out to my new companion, spilling my deepest secrets until I cried myself to sleep. The next day, I again began talking to Charlie about the pain and depression I had been through, and he listened patiently once more. I discovered that spending time with my new friend was cathartic. Perhaps I needed to get it all out, and be listened to for once, even if not fully understood.
The third day after I had taken Charlie in, I woke up to realize that I'd overslept half an hour. I poured some food into Charlie's bowl and brushed my teeth at lightning speed, then grabbed my bag and flung the door open, ready to bolt into my car. A surprise greeted me at the front door, that made me stop.
There was a bouquet of red and pink roses on my front door step.
I picked it up and looked at it, confused. There was no note attached or anything. I couldn't think of who it would be from - I obviously hadn't been on any dates recently. Being late for work, I didn't have much time to ponder, so I dropped the roses back on my doorstep and drove off. During the drive, I panicked for a second at the thought that it could have been my ex, but then realized he didn't know my new address, or even that I had moved. The mystery bugged me all day at work. When I came back home, the roses were gone, so I assumed someone had accidentally left them at the wrong address.
That night, I woke to the sound of creaking. As I opened my eyes slightly, I saw something at the foot of my bed and bolted upright, adrenaline rushing through me. As the fogginess faded, my heart rate settled a little.
"It’s just you, Charlie," I sighed, "you scared me."
Charlie continued to stare at me from the foot of my bed. After a minute, he stood up and left the room. I didn't think much of it, and fell back asleep.
For the next week, I continued the usual ritual of talking to Charlie before I went to bed. I would talk about my day, my plans, hopes, dreams and other such things. I found our one way conversations getting more positive each day - they were very therapeutic. Charlie would always stare at me with those big brown eyes and sit quietly still as I talked.
On the morning of the vet appointment, for which I had taken the day off work, I noticed that my car was much cleaner than usual. Had it always been this shiny? I thought. I had driven it to work the Friday before, but I hadn't taken notice of how clean it was then. The last time I had, I could swear there were bird droppings on the back window, and some general grime that covered it all round, but it was now spotless. I pondered for a few seconds, and came to the conclusion that it must've just be a brain lapse on my part - it was probably always clean. Those droppings must have washed away over time with a few rainy nights.
I drove Charlie down to the vet and explained the story of how I'd found him.
"He's very well behaved," she beamed, as she began examining Charlie on the table. "We see a few of these cases from time to time. People's dogs have puppies, and they get sold or abandoned."
"It's a real shame," I sighed. "Charlie's been a star, I'm lucky to have him really. I live alone, so as odd as it sounds, I've been talking to him and it's helped me through some difficult moments."
"That's not strange at all," replied the vet, checking his teeth. "Owning a dog can do wonders for your mental health, especially if you live alo-"
She suddenly stopped.
I stared as she squinted and moved Charlie's head up and down, trying to get a look at something. She plucked a light out of her pocket and aimed it into Charlie's left eye.
"What's wrong?" I asked. She didn't answer, and kept looking at Charlie from different angles. He whimpered slightly.
"Did his eye look like this when you found him?" She asked. I leaned in closer.
"Yeah, I did notice his left eye was slightly darker and larger than his right."
She looked at me for a second and raised her eyebrows, then back at Charlie.
"I'd like to get a closer look at his eye and examine it in the next room, if that's okay?"
"Uh, sure," I said, confused.
Without further explanation, she hastily picked Charlie up and carried him off into a different room. I sat down and waited, reading the news on my phone, expecting her to be back in a few minutes. However, when the vet didn’t come back for a while, my concern began to grow. I paced around the room and tried to glance into the door she had left through a few times.
Then I sat back down and watched the minutes pass by, getting more anxious. Hopefully it's nothing, I thought to myself. An easily curable eye infection perhaps, or a defect he was born with - hopefully it was something like that or nothing. I'd only spent a few weeks with Charlie, but he was the best friend I'd ever had. I had told him so much about me, and he was the only one that had ever really listened to me. I had grown very attached to him quickly, so I almost felt like a worried parent, blaming myself for not bringing him to the vet sooner.
An hour and a half passed, but it felt like eternity. The vet finally came back through the door. I stood up.
"Everything okay?" I asked.
"Have you noticed any odd events recently?" she asked, "Like, anything you couldn't explain?"
"To do with Charlie?"
"No, just in general. Anything you've seen or heard around you that felt out of place in your life?" She insisted. I took a second to think.
"I'm pretty sure this isn't gonna be relevant," I said, "But I have a couple of times. For instance, this morning I thought my car was a lot cleaner than usual. I've been getting some unknown calls, and hearing some creaking noises at night lately, but I'm sure it's just Charlie walking around and waking me up. And… someone left roses on my front doorstep one day. Didn't say from who, but… Sorry, I'm not sure why I'm even telling you this."
I looked up at the vet, who now had a very concerned look on her face.
"I'm going to have to call the police," she said.
It took a few seconds to register. A million thoughts started racing through my mind. Did I say something wrong? Did she think I was abusing Charlie?
"I swear," I said, "Everything I've told you is true, I'm really sorry it took me so long to bring him in, it's my first time owning a dog and all…"
"No, no, it's not that," she said. She gestured for me to follow her into the room through the door.
Charlie was sitting on a table in the middle of the room. There were a few other tables surrounding it, with dog toys and surgical equipment on them. There was a large hole where his left eye had been, now a gaping black cavity.
The vet pointed at a sheet of blue paper on a table next to the one Charlie was on. There were two black domes resting on it, like two halves of a black ping pong ball had been split in half. A clear fluid was covering the outer sides, and staining the blue paper. There was also a tiny black cube. I looked closer, and saw some red and green wires coming out of the tube.
"I took this out of Charlie's left eye," the vet explained, "I thought my eyes were fooling me, but I took a closer look and was sure this thing definitely shouldn't have been in his head. When I took it out, I thought it was some kind of prosthetic eye, until I heard something moving inside it. I opened it up, and found this."
She pointed at the tiny cube and picked it up with some tweezers, revealing a transparent circular window on one side.
"Now I'm no expert, but I took that apart just now and to me it looked a lot like the inside of a camera lens you'd get on a smartphone."
She looked back at me.
"Do you think…" She paused.
"Do you think it's possible someone could have been watching you for the past few days?"
The police were eventually called and an investigation started. The tiny device inside Charlie's eye was indeed a camera lens with a built in audio recording device, and it had a wireless connection. It was an advanced piece of kit, but with some technical expertise they were able to examine its traffic logs and identify an IP address to which the miniature device was streaming.
That IP address belonged to my neighbor, who lived in the house opposite to mine.
I had never seen him leave the house before, although when I moved in I did see his silhouette in the top floor window a couple of times. He was a fifty five year old balding, slightly overweight man who worked as an engineer, but otherwise lived a reclusive lifestyle. I later found out that he had multiple restraining orders placed against him from ex partners. He had a collection of tiny bugging devices which he had been planting in various places including public women's bathrooms for years. These devices could livestream video and audio to his computer, and in his spare time he would watch and listen to this footage he collected.
A while before I moved into the house, he had purchased a puppy from someone he knew, and kept it as a pet without registering it. I assume he got bored of spying on women in bathroom stalls, and when he saw me move into the house opposite, he suddenly got a wild idea of how he could get a peek at something more intimate. The rest is some truly horrific history.
Charlie had been in my room while I slept and even a couple of times while I undressed. But worst of all, I had told him everything about me. The names of previous partners, things about my family, companies I had worked for and more. I wish I could say that I kept Charlie, but I just couldn't. Not after that. The vet arranged for him to be sent to the animal shelter where I'm glad to say he eventually did find a new home. I also relocated and changed my phone number.
For anyone out there wondering, I'm still single. The difference is that nowadays, I'm completely at peace with being alone. I've experienced a worse alternative, that's for sure.

I (17F) had a strong connection to my father (65M), which we built up during the last years (during my parents' divorce).
During that time, he treated me as if I was his therapist without him nor me noticing that it is inappropriate (at this time I was at the age of 11). ‘Inappropriate’ as in too deep and personal conversations about his past and his trauma that he has experienced throughout his childhood and further, that he all dumped onto me, which led me feel emotionally responsible for him and his actions.
In the recent years (quite frankly a bit after their divorce) he tried online dating, although his preferences are a bit problematic and stereotypical (“Old white guy dating young Asian women”). During that period, he told me all about it, every single detail and further, which wasn’t too pleasing, due to me not being too mentally stable at the time. I watched him being scammed and used up until recently (one and a half years), when he met a now 23-year-old Asian woman that we will here call ‘Karen’. As they chatted and further, she was already being very problematic, as in trying to get in between me and my father, which led to them being in a sort of “on-off” situation several times. Regardless of that my father invited her to our homeland with a tourist VISA. During that time, I was at my then lowest point, not feeling too well, even after giving her a “new” chance of redeeming herself, yet she did not take any initiative to get to know me better, nor to get on my good side. Short after her arrival I had a school trip from which me and my father planned on him picking me up from the train station, which in the end he cancelled at the very last moment, due to him not trying to upset Karen, who was mad that I wanted to be with my dad / him picking me up (This being one of many examples of her regular behavior). This led to me feeling unwell and unwanted around her, which I tried talking over with my father, sadly he kept defending her behavior as it being shyness. This was obviously not true, due to her bragging with overly sexual poses on social media with posts about her being in our homeland. She left about 2 months after her arrival and has now (at the time of this post creation) returned for around 3 months. During that period of her not being around me or my father they kept being “on-off” several times, which once again shows how unserious this “relationship” is.
I’ve told my father several times about how him being with that woman is sickening, not only due to the huge age-gap, but mostly because of her behavior and actions, which I’ve tried tolerating too much at this point, yet he persistently kept defending her. I’ve stayed at home multiple days now, due to the emotional damage that has built up on me. This has led to me cutting off contact with my father, which is very hard for me, due to the emotional connection I've built up with him, yet it feels very freeing. He somehow still doesn’t understand what his actions have made me go through.
AITA for slowly cutting off contact with my dad from my life for being with an obvious and manipulative gold-digger?

If you’d told me that the visitation with my son, an event that happened only every other weekend, would be extended indefinitely, I would’ve jumped with joy. In the end, I wish the circumstances under which they unfolded had never happened.
The clouds were sightless in the clear sky the day Jasmine dropped off my boy, a perfect day to play a little catch in the yard or go fishing at the nearby stock pond. Cyrus bounced out of the car and ran joyously toward me, unaware that his old man was a perpetual fuck up that had broken up the family in the first place. Oh well.
It was a happy day, the birds sang their old nostalgic tunes of a lost Summer in my own childhood. It was warm, not too warm, and the neighborhood was buzzing with excitement as the Spring showers had come to a close. It was as close as it could get to perfect.
The evening light danced against the tree tops, turning a violet hue as dusk began to settle in. Burnt orange water reflected the dying sun as it continued sinking away to nothing. We grabbed our tackle box, the giant beige one my uncle gifted me before he was stolen by cancer, and filled it with the empty, crumpled up bits of plastic that once held bologna sandwiches. As I said, it was a perfect day, very reminiscent of my own childhood.
We’d thrown the fat bluegill back that we had caught, I hadn’t felt like messing with cleaning and cooking them. Instead, dinner would likely be mac n’ cheese with some cut up hot dogs, a staple in my household whether or not Cyrus was visiting. Hopefully I hadn’t run through Oscar Meyer supply.
Home never felt so lonely, the walls never seemed so barren of old family pictures when Cyrus wasn’t around. Sometimes, he only added to the pain. I would never tell him that, though.
Even with the faucet turned all the way up, the water dribbled out and made boiling pasta a very patient game. Cyrus was babbling about some game he was playing on my phone. ‘He’s just a kid’, I thought, and pretended to be interested in whatever the hell he was talking about.
The sun had vanished and the moon was especially bright that night, having slid nearly halfway to its crescendo before dinner was finally done. Cyrus had stolen my phone to the living room, staring at the bright characters absentmindedly as a nondescript Netflix show played in the background.
“Here, buddy, sorry about the wait”, I sat the bowl of neon yellow stuff in front of him, the pink scramble of hotdog jutting out made me feel… a little ashamed? I plopped down next to him and flipped through the various titles on Netflix, most of which I had already seen a couple of times. Cyrus tossed the phone aside and picked at the mess of ‘food’ in the bowl. I can’t remember if he took a bite or not.
“Dad!”, I jumped, reeling from the doze I had fallen in. If Jasmine was here, it would’ve been such a perfect day, such a perfect day. Instead, this is where it all fell apart.
He massaged furiously at his temples, his knees pulled tight against his heaving chest.
“What’s the matter, are you okay?”, I jumped from the couch and got on one knee, putting my hands around his shoulders. I watched helplessly as Cyrus twisted and contorted his body, trying to run away from whatever pain was in his head.
Suddenly he fell still.
I studied him for a while, nearly on the verge of tears as his body had become totally limp. Then, a noise. At first it was quiet, then it grew and grew until it filled the room with totality. It’s hard to describe that noise, almost like a wind turbine if you were up close to it.
From behind the couch, just above my sons head, it peeked at me. Its thick, black fingers ended at sharp, nailess points. Just as I met its eyes, it slithered behind the couch and that’s when Cyrus awoke in a screaming fit.
I jumped awake again, Cyrus sitting next to me as pale as a sheet. His eyes were bulging, glued to the blank TV ahead.
I couldn’t help but check behind the couch, to make sure it wasn’t still there. Then, to my son who was still staring at the nothing on the television. His mouth was hanging open, just enough to allow the continuous stream of drool to fall out.
I ran to the kitchen to grab a paper towel and cleaned the odd amount of drool from his chin. There wasn’t a thermometer in the house but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell that he was burning up. A fever, I thought.
I carried the boy to his bedroom, feeling as though I was being watched the entire way, and tucked him into bed. A doctors visit would soon be on the horizon. I returned to the couch in the living room, careful to keep my gaze fixed on the TV and nothing else. Truthfully, I was too afraid to look in the shadowy corners.
That night was filled with nightmares.
The next day I rang Jasmine, letting her know that Cy was sick and needed to go to the doctor. Ordinarily, this wouldn’t have been an issue, but Jas was immunocompromised (she’d been diagnosed with breast cancer a few months before we divorced) and my son would be staying with me for the foreseeable future. I couldn’t complain, I didn’t get to see him nearly enough as it was.
That day was very much the opposite of the previous, the sky was gloomy and spits of rain fell consistently from dawn to nightfall.
The doctor had said that Cyrus had a particularly severe ear infection, but nothing that some antibiotics couldn’t fix. He sent us home with a tube of the stuff, my wallet noticeably lighter.
“Apply some of this twice a day, once in the morning and once before bedtime”, the older gentleman had said. He squeezed my shoulder and smiled, though there seemed to be something else behind his wary eyes.
He stopped me again as I turned to leave.
“Sir…”, he started, though he seemed to study his words carefully, “your son kept mentioning something he called the flumes”.
I shrugged, the only time I had heard the word was in reference to a ravine on the edge of town where we’d all smoke pot in high school. Nothing struck me as odd about it at the time.
“They come from the flumes, those noises, those noises, he kept saying”, the doctor pushed closer, his eyes growing wild. I stepped backward, tugging at Cy’s hand as we left the building wordlessly.
Aside from my busy mind, the car ride home was utterly silent. I could hear my boys heavy, labored breaths all the way from the backseat. ‘Inner ear infection, my ass’, I thought.
After laying Cyrus back down for bed, I fixed him a bowl of instant chicken and noodles and decided to give Jasmine a call. The phone rang endlessly before the robotic voice indicated that the caller wasn’t available. I tried once more but gave up after it rang a few more times. Probably sleeping.
I returned to the couch, deciding to rewatch Nightmare on Elm Street for the fourth or fifth time.
After a while, I decided to put on cable, growing tired of the listless titles on Netflix. I was never too interested in the local news, but today seemed as good as any to catch up on the towns happenings. The Grantfield Gators girls softball team had advanced to sectionals and one of the townsfolk were celebrating their 100th birthday.
A ‘Breaking News’ graphic slid below the frazzled newslady on the television. Wherever she was, it sure looked familiar.
‘Wild dog shits on mayors front yard’, I laughed at my own stupid joke and surely turned as white as Cyrus had the previous night as the lady on the TV continued.
“A local woman was found tied to a tree and disemboweled at the scene. Police are saying various symbols were branded all over the womans body, and the material used to bind her to the Elm tree was ‘of unusual property’”, she continued on for a while but I hadn’t noticed, the air had fallen heavy and that familiar warbling had filled the room again.
Heavy footsteps slammed up the staircase at an otherworldly pace. Up the staircase and towards my sons room.
I ran, I swear I ran as fast as I could but I knew… I knew.
When I got to his room, he was gone, the curtains blowing aimlessly in the wind as the window had been slammed open so hard that the glass had shattered in the panes. The bowl of chicken and noodles sat on the bedside table, untouched.
I tried calling Jasmine again and again and again. Still, no answer.
I wanted to write this, to whoever may be reading, so that you know where to look if I don’t return. I know where my son is, I know where Jasmine is.
The flumes took them, or whatever might be lurking in it.

She was my first love, first everything. When I met her she was hurting herself. I did everything I could to help her. Twice I had to call the police cause she was going to kill herself. She was controlling. She removed any relationship with a female I had. I let her. I paid tens of thousands of dollars in medical bills to help her with her suicidal thoughts. Most of the inheritance I got from my grandfather. We were only 18, but I took her into my home, got her eating again, did everything in my power to make her happy. From surprise trips to disneyland, to expensive jewelry. Hell, I even bought her an entirely new wardrobe because she didn't want to go home. I built a home with her, only teenagers, but people who I thought felt the same way about eachother. From the nicest stores she could find too. I stopped going to school to take care of her, because she needed someone to be with her. I threw away years of extremely expensive schooling, a GPA I worked hard for, and my chances at a good college because I thought she was all I'd need and things would work out. And what do I get? Physical abuse, screaming at me, controlling behavior, every form of toxicity imaginable. She lied to my face. She called her ex after a fight and lied to me about it, and when I asked her why she said her friends said it was better. And even after moving past that, she still stayed friends with those people. But I thought she loved me, and I thought she wanted to change. She said it enough anyways. I thought that even though she treated me this way, she at least was loyal, she would never hurt me, she only wanted me.
We were toxic, I wasn't as bad but I know I wasn't perfect. I would be resentful, I would be cold to her when I felt she wasn't sorry. I started to yell back. I felt our relationship corrupting me. So I tried to end things. I was weak though. She was my everything. I gave up so much for her, so we began a cycle of toxicity. Never truly breaking up, also promising to be exclusive, but relying on eachother for the love we never got. After nearly three years I got tired of loving harder, of putting in more, of constant dissapointment catching her in a lie or her blowing up at me. I put work into myself, and I was able to break things off. I knew it was what's best for both of us. I didn't deserve abuse. She didn't deserve someone who resented her. I told her this, I felt we were finally communicating, I wish her well, I sent her money. I got her a job at a fantastic school where she could work with kindergarteners, her dream job. Yesterday, a month later, she comes to my house, knowing I was struggling. She says she cares about me, that she doesn't wanna hurt me, and when I ask her if she was ever texting or seeing anyone else, she lies to my face. I kept asking too. Because I can sometimes tell when she lies. And she had the nerve to get upset at me for it. As if I owe her my trust. She convinces me that I am being crazy and we sleep together. She tells me she is going to come over again and doesn't. And I joke, saying better not be on a date. Little do I know she's literally sleeping with the guy at her work she told me was just friendly to her. The guy she promised to set boundaries with. The guy she reassured me a dozen times was just friendly, it was just his personality, and only ONE WEEK after we stopped talking. ONE WEEK after she reassured me should could never replace me, that I was all she was thinking about. And after I get her to admit it, she still lies, hiding more and more details I have to pull out of her. I passed out, I thought I was dreaming. I prayed I was dying and this was all one horrible hallucination. But I wasn't. She just stared at me on the floor. Crying not because she was sorry, but because I found out.
Ending things permanently with her was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I told my friends I can't even find other girls attractive anymore, that I don't think I could even date for a decade. She was all I thought about, all I focused on, everything I wanted it life. And she didn't even wanna keep her legs closed for a week. I meant that little to her. All those promises, those memories, the devotion. It was all one big lie. Years wasted, opportunities squandered. Just for her to run to the one person who would hurt me the most.
I'm disgusted, I'm angry with myself. I let this happen. I should've been stronger. I should've told her to leave when she showed up outside my window. But I didn't. I knew she was bad for me. I knew she didn't love me the same way I loved her, and I let this happen anyways. My parents didn't like her, my friends told me I was being stupid. I did this to myself. Maybe it's only been a day, but I don't know if I'll ever love again. I don't ever wanna open myself up to any girl. I refuse to be put in a vulnerable position like this again. I don't know how to trust again. This relationship has almost killed me, so maybe I dodged a bullet. But right now I'd be happy if that bullet hit me, because at least I'd have known it was me she wanted.

I'm F27 and feel like I'm going nuts - it seems like one of these two men in my life are constantly trying to punch down on me, and I feel like I'm losing the plot as nobody else seems to care or notice, and I feel like I'm getting angry more than is healthy - even if it's normal to feel it with these situations?
For some likely important context, I was diagnosed AuDHD 6 months ago.
My stepdad M54 - he constantly corrects me and has to have the last word, no matter the topic or who of us knows more about it. As much I love him, tonight drove me to actually tell him I was over talking with him right then because he doesn't have to be the most correct person or have the last word, and he laughed. It was over ADHD meds - I was talking about how I was excited to likely finally be prescribed them next week, and it came up my little brother had a mostly unused bottle of dexamphetamine, so I jokingly said I'd love some while I wait for my own prescription, and then when my mum F51 pointed out my brother is on Vyvanse now, I said "Ah yes, legal speed, extended release", and my step-dad then went no, they're totally different compounds, a different drug and it's not speed. To try and avoid him correcting me I say yes, I know, but they're still an ADHD med and a stimulant - and I just looked it up, it looks like I was correct. Realistically, it is an ultra-minor detail that doesn't matter at all in the gist of the conversation anyway.
He corrects me often when talking about savings, politics, taxes, history, tv shows and all kinds of things - it isn't limited to minor details. He acts like I don't know things and if I try to expand my point, he has to have the last word, every. single. time.
My coworker M40ish (not exactly sure but late 30s/early 40s seems right) is also a corrector, but he generally understands things we talk about more in general; we work in banking and he loves to analyse the economy figures each month and work out exactly what those numbers mean for people going forward - I know in a general sense, he is good with specifics so I'm okay with him correcting me here only because I am usually actually a bit wrong or very wrong and he is kinder about it usually. However, he has a 2 year old, and what from the outside looks like a very unhappy marriage, and he brings that frustration to work and seems to take it out on me.
I am constantly tired due to masking at work and struggling to retain focus to work, and so I sleep a lot to make up for it - whenever we are asked in team meetings about our weekends and I say either sleeping or video games/Netflix, he rolls his eyes and has very disinterested body language, and whenever we see each other in person, about 2 days a week, any 'friendly conversation' we have is typically him being cranky and complaining about his wife or 'my kid' (never addresses his daughter by name??)...
Once in a meeting I asked a question I thought was valid about a process he was trying to find a loophole for and he slammed his hands on the table and loudly said that wouldn't work, embarrassing me in front of my whole team while the boss was away. He also did an the RADS-R (and it came back with high probability) when I posted it on the work social media as part of an awareness thing, and he told me, I suggested that while he waits for the psychiatrist to look into it, reducing things that cause him melt or shutdowns, and he said he couldn't just divorce his wife and abandon his kid, and when I said that wasn't at all what I meant and I felt he was putting words into his mouth, he acted like I attacked him. He just always seems frustrated by me, and I don't know why, or how to stop feeling like this. I do everything I can to stop my autism and ADHD affecting anyone at great personal cost, I really can't think of anything I would be doing to upset him.
Both these men do things that upset me on a regular basis, but nobody else ever seems to call it out, notice or do anything about it, and when I try to ask dad to stop it, he laughs at me and continues, and the coworker is intimidating seeing he thinks he's smarter than me, and is more than willing to act it. Is there anything I can do to stop feeling so frustrated by either of them? avoiding them isn't an option, nor is cutting them off or any other drastic measures.
TLDR; step dad corrects me all the time on all kinds of minor details and has to have the last word always, coworker seems constantly frustrated by me - need coping strategies to not be constantly upset with one or both of them.