Been suffering for about two decades before getting diagnosed, now waiting to see the neurologist. They have gotten very frequent and the aura is pretty much a temporary blindness. I don’t always getting head pain, but when I do it’s kind of a dull ache. I feel absolutely drained with the episodes, get dizzy, speckles in my vision even when I don’t get an aura. I also get lots of stomach issues and nausea. Does anybody else in here have this type, and do the new CGRP inhibitors help much?

I have been battling GI and Neurological issues that I believe is the result of Long Covid for the last 8 months now. It seems like every time that I recover from one issue I am inflicted with another affliction with the latest being a persistent and relentless back pain that has been going on for nearly 4 weeks.
About 6 weeks ago I tried to come off my PPI (endo diagnosed mild gastritis in Dec) and started introducing HCL, enzymes and probiotics. Shortly after, I started having pain in the center of my stomach that was sensitive to the touch. I thought it was a gallbladder attack so got an US that was unremarkable and then got a MRI which was also unremarkable. About 2 weeks later (4 wks ago) my pains migrated to my back and have been there since. It started with an intermittent burning sensation between my shoulder blades (felt like rug burn/road rash across my back). This pain has only progressed and become more persistent. The pain now alternates between a a dull ache (like a bruise from an impact across my back) and the burning sensation. I have found a vertebrae that is sensitive to the touch near the pain areas but believe this is all GI related due to all of the other issues. I now also have pains that ride up my left shoulder blade from lower rib to my left shouldetrap and neck. I also get occasional burning pains under my ribs both sides and the occasional pains below my sternum.
I can’t make sense of any of this and lost support of my GI doc with recent negative scans and he couldn’t provide a logical explanation. I was very healthy before all of this and now feel like I am going crazy or my body is just quitting on me.
Does this sound like gastritis or something else (ulcer, pancreas, etc)? If gastritis how long can it persistently last and/or is there anything I can do to ease the pain (pain level is only 2-4 but relentless)?
I greatly appreciate any feedback or advice.

hi. f18, 95lbs, 5’4 i’m self recovering right now. i do have an appointment to meet with a ed specialist and a dietician next month :) but i’m self refeeding as of rn… i went from 100ish cals a day to slowly upping my intake. well, it was acc kinda fast and not very slow… but i’ve been eating over 1,000+ sometimes close to 1,500 a day since may 4th, it’s may 13th now. so far so good, had some chest pain and palpitations the first few days but went to the er and they said my electrolytes were all good. so far so good now, chest pain is gone away. i just get super duper bloated and stomach aches after eating but they go away after awhile. am i no longer at risk and can up my intake a lot more? thanks in advance

Day 5 of recovery/ all in and I’m having insane physical symptoms The main would be body aches and headaches/ feeling like I have the flu Water retention (obvious one I guess) in the stomach which I expected but also in my ankles?? Heart palpitations after eating Tiredness Acne A scary one is trouble taking deep breaths? It definitely could be anxiety as I’ve experienced this sensation before but I’m kind of concerned about it
Has anyone else had these and can shed some tips/advice? I’m also concerned about refeeding syndrome with the heart palpitations, water retention and breathing issues but I’m not sure if the symptoms are severe enough for cause of concern

The garage door shut with a groan behind us, closing us in the gloom of the single bulb hanging over the car.
Mother took a drag off her cigarette and sighed as she exhaled, the smoke filled the cabin of the Ford and stung my eyes.
“You really disappointed me today, Julianne," she tapped her cigarette in the ashtray below the dash, "you embarrassed me in front of the other mothers at the Ice Cream Social, shoveling down seconds and thirds like a pig. I thought I raised you better than that.”
She took another drag, daintily holding the cigarette between her perfectly manicured fingers.
“I'm going to have to tell your brother about this," she continued, “he'll have to come up with a punishment fit for a pig."
I felt my stomach drop. My kid brother, Thomas, was only six, but could be exceptionally cruel. Mother seemed to encourage him and was deferring to him more and more frequently for how the house was run, especially concerning my upbringing.
"Mother, please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm sorry I was a pig and ate so much ice cream. I promise I won't do it again, I'll never eat any ice cream again," I was pleading with stone, unyielding.
“Hush your mouth. Go to your room and wait for Thomas," she put out the cigarette and got out of the car, I had no choice but to follow.
It felt like walking to the gallows as I stepped inside the house and headed towards the stairs to go to my room. Thomas had grown fond recently of physical punishment, he obviously delighted in Mother whipping me with a belt or, recently, Mother had allowed him to start beating me with a wooden spoon. He would squeal and giggle like a normal child watching bubbles in the wind while I screamed. I was dreading whatever was going to happen tonight, I chastised myself for eating that ice cream, I should have known she would show up. My sins were always laid bare.
Down the hall, I could hear Thomas watching television in the den. I only got to watch TV for half an hour on Saturday morning and new episodes of Happy Days with Mother and Thomas. Thomas got to watch all the TV he wanted. He could listen to the radio and turntable as much as he wanted, as loud as he wanted. Thomas had an entire room just for his toys.
I entered my bedroom, it was a space I occupied, but it didn't feel like mine. Mother kept it spartan, white walls and white bedspread. A crucifix over the bed and a painting of Jesus over the door. I had my desk and chair and a dresser with some of the porcelain dolls Daddy gave me before he died that Mother let me keep. That was it.
I placed my book bag down and sat on my bed, waiting for Thomas. It was a while, sitting there with nothing but my own thoughts and staring at the open door. I felt humiliated, I was almost thirteen and my entire life was dictated by my brother. Mother kept the house in constant lockdown to keep Thomas a secret. No outsiders were allowed in. I couldn't have friends because she was afraid I would mention him or sneak a friend in to gawk at my brother and tease him for being different.
I would never make fun of him, I was terrified of him. Terrified of what he was and what he was becoming.
Eventually I heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and I felt my heart start beating faster and my palms began to sweat. I kneaded my skirt in my hands, trying to calm myself and dry my palms. His slow arrhythmic footsteps came down the hall and I watched him as he entered the room.
I couldn't help but internally recoil at his appearance, even though I'd known him since he was born, I could never adjust to how unnatural he appeared. Thomas had been born at home and had never seen a doctor, but he was obviously unwell.
He was six years old and was barely over two feet tall, but very squat and wide. His skin was thick and gray, the whites of his beady eyes were yellow and his hair was wispy and white like an old man's, spreading out like a halo around his gargoyle face. A slight odor of decomposition hung about him, it reminded me faintly of garbage cans on a hot summer day. I hated when Mother made me help him with a bath, his skin felt like old brittle leather that flaked onto my clothes in gray flecks. His body was dense like concrete, I could barely lift him into the tub. Picking him up forced his hair into my face where that smell of rot would fill my nose, causing me to gag, silently, so as not to offend him and draw any ire from him or Mother.
Today, Thomas was wearing bib overalls with a red and green striped sweater underneath, reminding me of a grotesque doll.
“Mama says you acted like a piggy today at the ice cream social,” he spoke up to me in his unsettlingly high pitched, yet raspy voice, like a child that smoked as much as Mother, "you need to come down for dinner right now for your punishment for embarrassing Mama."
He turned and walked back down the stairs and I had no choice but to follow his toddling form downstairs to the dining table. We entered the kitchen and the table was placed with two settings. Mother was already seated and Thomas clambered up into his booster seat at his normal spot next to Mother. She took a drag off her cigarette and motioned vaguely to the floor without even looking at me.
Neatly situated on the linoleum was my dinner, not on a plate, but directly on the floor. A pork chop, scoop of mashed potatoes, and a small pile of peas. No utensils, either.
Thomas giggled with glee upon seeing my face.
“You have Mama's permission now to eat like a piggy, now. No hands! Piggies just use their face!” He stood up in his chair and reached out for Mother’s ash tray and flung it out over my meal, peppering my dinner with cigarette ash and butts.
"Oops! Piggies don't mind trash though, do they, Mama?” he giggled and the sound filled me with rage.
"No, they don't,” Mother replied coolly while maneuvering her ashtray back in place and carefully putting out her cigarette before saying prayer.
As angry as I was, I got down on my hands and knees and did my best at eating what I could without using my hands. I knew if I refused, it would be far worse. The whole meal, Thomas made pig noises and would reach down and poke me with his fork, making comments about what a fat piggy I was and how he wished he could roast and eat me. I doubted Mother would even object if he actually did kill me and eat me.
Gagging my way through another bite of ashy pork chop, I felt a warm splat over my head and heard Thomas giggling. I reached up and felt he had dumped mashed potatoes into my hair.
Choking down tears, I asked Mother if I could clean the floor and bathe. She rolled her eyes and excused me to clear the table for them as well while she changed Thomas into his pajamas. Picking him up, she walked out of the room and Thomas stuck his putrid little purple tongue out at me before they made it out the kitchen door.
I silently cried while I cleared the table and washed the dinner dishes. Tears splashed down as I mopped up the mess from my food on the floor. I hated how awful Thomas was. I hated how they treated me. Ever since Daddy died and Thomas showed up, I was their punching bag. I missed Daddy so much.
Mother was kinder then, too. She was still severe, but Dad kept her tempered. After he died, there was a change that came over her. I was only six, so I didn't remember her too much from before, but I did remember her gushing on and on when she was pregnant with Thomas. How the baby was a gift from Our Heavenly Father, that it was going to complete our broken family.
My sixth birthday happened right after Daddy died and I remember sitting on the patio crying while the house was full of people after the funeral, normally he would have gotten me a new doll and a chocolate bar, instead I was forgotten. No doll. No chocolate. Just funeral potatoes and a house full of cigarette smoke from the adults.
Nobody remembered. The closest thing I got was my dad's sister, Aunt Judy, sitting next to me on the patio step for a few minutes of comfortable silence before giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. I don't think she knew her brother was memorialized on my birthday. Next year, Thomas was born the day before my birthday, so it was completely eclipsed as Mother had just birthed her new love into the world…
I stopped mid mop as a lightbulb finally went off. I had never put much thought into the dates before.
Thomas was born a full year after Daddy died. He couldn't be his dad. Who was Thomas’ actual father?
Washing mashed potatoes out of my hair that evening, I ran over and over the timeline. No matter how I parsed it out, Thomas was only my half brother. Going to bed that night, I kept myself awake, going over and over again to make sure. I couldn't remember any men being around at that time, but that didn't mean much. Adults can easily hide things from children. Tension began throbbing through my head and I felt queasy. Mother had always known all of my secrets, able to sniff them out like a bloodhound out or using Thomas to spy. Now I had one of Mother's secrets and I didn't know what to do with it.
First I wanted to confirm it, but it would mean snooping, which was difficult in a house that was rarely left empty. I would have to try finding Mother's calendar book or journal to see if she mentioned any dates or men.
But when could I attempt such a daring maneuver? Thomas hardly left the house. As proud as Mother was of him, she was very cognizant and protective of his differences and didn't want to draw attention to herself or Thomas like that. Mother herself had few social engagements throughout the week and mostly stayed home to watch her golden child.
I finally decided I would take the risk and fake sick on Tuesday, grocery day, so I could stay home from school while she went shopping. All Thomas did all day was watch TV downstairs, so that should give me about an hour to look through her room for clues. I decided to tuck my head down, try to behave as best as I could to avoid their wrath, and wait for Tuesday.
That weekend limped along agonizingly slow. Thomas was in a fine mood and was constantly seeking out a reason to poke me, punch me, slap me… he'd laugh while calling me a piggy with his off-putting wide mouth. I tried to mostly stay in my room and it seemed like neither of them cared.
School on Monday was a relief, but my anxiety ramped up. The consequences would be dire if Mother caught on that I was faking sick to stay home. I didn't even want to imagine how off the leash she'd let my half-brother become in his punishment for that level of insubordination.
I stayed up all night, my stomach was in knots, but I was committed to my plan. Throughout the night, I screamed as hard as I could into my pillow. Screamed until my throat was raw and I could barely talk. It felt cathartic in a way. When it was close to school time, I put on my heaviest flannel pajamas and began doing jumping jacks until my face was flushed and my scalp was soaked with sweat.
Looking in the bathroom mirror before heading down to talk to Mother, I thought I looked pretty convincing, my skin was flushed and sweaty, my eyes had circles under them from lack of sleep, and my voice croaked like a frog.
Heading downstairs, Mother was already feeding Thomas breakfast. I hesitantly stepped into the kitchen and stood there awkwardly for a second, pawing with my pajamas to keep my nerves steady until she noticed my presence and looked up.
“Why aren't you dressed, Julianne?"
"I don't feel well. My throat hurts and my tummy hurts.” My voice graveled out more than I was expecting, I really had hurt my throat.
She strode over to me and placed a cool hand on my sweaty brow.
"You do feel warm. Take an aspirin from the medicine cabinet and go lay back down. I'll check on you later," with that she turned back and walked over to Thomas, who was frozen in place, glaring at me over a forkful of scrambled eggs. The sharp glint of malice in his beady eyes made me shiver before I shuffled out of the kitchen.
I laid in bed, trying my best to look miserable until I eventually heard the faint sound of the television playing in the den as Thomas settled in for his normal daytime routine and the garage door opened as Mother headed to the grocery store. I bounded out of bed and watched the car back out of our driveway and head up the street.
My heart began to pound as I tiptoed down the hall to Mother's bedroom, a place I rarely even caught a glimpse of, let alone entered. I very slowly opened the door, taking great care to not make any noise to alert Thomas downstairs that I was out of bed.
Creeping into the butter yellow room, I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my skull, this was the naughtiest thing I had ever done by far. I stepped onto the rug to help disguise my footsteps and slowly made my way past the brass bed and towards her desk. My hands shook as I opened the top drawer, I pawed through rapidly and found nothing. I checked the next drawer down and again found nothing of interest, just stationary and envelopes.
Finally, the bottom drawer was what I was looking for, a stack of journals from the past decade. I flipped through, trying to find entries relevant to when Daddy died and who Mother slept with afterwards.
I've never fully recovered from what I read.
July 6, 1968
Edgar died today. Car accident. I cannot believe this is real. My light, my life, my anchor... Dr. Benson gave me a sedative at the hospital and I feel so tired. So very, very tired. Why has my Lord forsaken me so?
July 9, 1968
I feel like I am in a very bad dream, I feel numb and disconnected. All the consolation and pity from everyone makes me feel sick. After the memorial, it took everything in me to not break dishes and to scream at everyone to get out of my house. Julianne was moping about crying and I wanted to throw her out, too.
If I hadn't seen my dear Edgar's body in the hospital and held his urn in my own hands, I wouldn't believe he was really gone. I still don't entirely believe it.
I have prayed to God every night asking him to show me why he took my husband from me and I have gotten no answer.
I skimmed over the next few months, as it was more or less similar sentiments repeated night after night. I finally got to an entry that caught my eye.
September 17, 1968
My battle with my faith has been fraught the past few months, but Hallelujah! I feel I can see the Lord again in all his glory and might, for he has given me a way to reconnect to my Edgar!
I was thinking about the night Julianne was born, right in this very home, it was a difficult birth and she struggled to breathe at first. Ingrid, my midwife, made a comment to me that if the baby had failed to wake up on her own, that Ingrid had ways to make sure she would have made it.
I remember asking if it was a medical methodology and she made it clear to me that in certain circumstances, it was a mystical property she used to bring the air of life into a struggling baby's lungs. She gently alluded to being a practicing member of the dark arts. At the time, I felt quite scandalized to have someone like that in my God fearing home. Now I see her as the answer to my prayers! My angel!
On a whim, I called her and asked if she still practiced such techniques. She hesitantly confirmed that she did. I asked, if she could turn breath into the lungs of a child without, could she turn breath into a child that did not exist? Could she magick into existence another child of my beloved Edgar? She told me she had to do some research and she'd be back in touch.
Ingrid just called back after a few hours and said there was a spell she found, but it was dangerous and might have unpleasant results. I said, yes, of course! I trust my Lord and I believe he sent this woman of blessed magick to me for this purpose.
She says we will have to do it soon, in a few days during the new moon. She has a potion to brew, but it is happening! Praise God!
September 23, 1968
The ceremony was last night, and Ingrid believes it was a success, but we will have to wait. It did not take long, only an hour or two. Ingrid lit my bedroom with many beeswax candles and she had me drink a thick and bitter tea that caused me to become quite relaxed and foggy.
From my inner thigh, she cut me and collected my blood in a chalice, with which she mixed quite a lot of Edgar's ashes and other ingredients which I could not glean from my supine position and groggy wits. Ingrid began to chant, calling upon a higher power, as I pleaded with my Lord to let this work. To give me any piece of my Edgar back. She came to the bed and worked the paste between my legs into my womanly chamber, which was very uncomfortable, but manageable with the numbing effects of the tea.
She continued to sit with me and chant, her hand placed over my womb, until she decided at which time it was complete. She left and I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up this morning, I felt quite uncomfortable, my body ached and when I used the restroom, a yellow fluid like pus poured out of me, but no sign of any ashes or blood, which gives me hope it was absorbed into my womb.
November 3, 1968
Praise be to our Lord, Ingrid just confirmed for me that I am with child, I had been hoping so, I had not gotten my cycle in October, but I wasn't sure if that was because of the discharge like pus that was still coming. She told me that was common with this spell and a side effect that would stop after the baby came.
I feel like I am floating on air, for the first time since Edgar left, I feel-
I suddenly became very aware of the feeling of eyes on the back of my head. I had become too engrossed in what was written before me and I had lost track of my surroundings. Very slowly, I turned around and my heart began pounding again as I saw Thomas standing in the doorway holding his wooden spoon in one hand. How had I not heard him?
He pointed at me with his empty hand and screamed, just a pure guttural screech from somewhere deep inside his disgusting little body. He charged at me from across the room, his horrible feet thumping solidly along the rug. He began beating my legs ruthlessly with the spoon, causing my legs to buckle. I crashed down to my knees in front of him, and he began lashing at my face, pulling my hair with one hand while wailing away at my head with the spoon.
I had dropped the journal I was holding and was desperately trying to get a hand on the spoon or push him away. All I could hear was him screaming. My arms flailed and I reached around on Mother's desk and grabbed onto the first thing I found and sank it into Thomas’ neck.
The end of Mother's gold letter opener protruded under his jaw. He went silent and he looked at me with utter shock. He dropped the spoon and collapsed on the ground, clutching at his neck as his thick black blood oozed out from his wound, letting out a stupendous odor of rot that filled the room. He didn't really say anything or make any noise. He just twitched for a moment and I saw his eyes glaze over.
In shock, I stood over his little body for a moment and I watched as he seemed to mummify in just a few minutes, like an ash person from Pompeii dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. Even his blood that looked like shiny oil a second ago became like potting soil on Mother's rug. Reaching out to touch his hand, it crumbled away like sand.
Panic ran through me like a rabbit caught in a snare. Not knowing what to do, I ran. I ran down the hall, changed my clothes, put an extra change of clothes in my backpack and the last doll Daddy had ever given me and I ran. Mother would absolutely never forgive me and I was genuinely afraid she would kill me in retaliation for taking her beloved Thomas away from her. Her precious gift from God. My feet flew over the pavement and took me away from that house.
I called my Aunt Judy from a payphone outside the five & dime, and told her Mother had kicked me out and asked if I could stay with her. She had always had a strained relationship with my mother and it didn't take much convincing that she had kicked out her “only” child. Only Mother, Ingrid, and I ever knew about Thomas.
She gave me a home and took care of me. She never beat me or humiliated me. Even with her love, I was far from okay. For years I would close my eyes and hear Thomas scream, then the sudden silence. I'd see him fumbling at his neck and turning to ash. But I would also remember all the ways he would hurt me and how bad he was becoming. I could never talk to anyone about it, especially not the silent relief I felt I refused to admit to myself. Over time, however, Thomas' screams became a whisper and his silence faded into dust in my mind.
I moved on with my life. I went to college and became a photojournalist, getting to travel the world and watch history unfold. By choice, I never married, but was quite blessed with many beautiful friendships for companionship over the decades. I found balance in my life and a sense of happiness, if not peace. I never could quite stomach mashed potatoes again, though, they always taste ashy to me.
Mother never made any attempts to reach out to me or find me, at least that I'm aware of. Ten years ago, I was contacted by a hospital and they said my mother had been admitted earlier after falling and was about to pass, so she must have kept some tabs on me to know my phone number for her emergency contacts. Apparently she had collapsed in the driveway and a neighbor called an ambulance. I got there and her only words to me were, “take care of him," as she placed a locket in my hand. I opened the locket, Jesus was on one side, Thomas on the other. I didn't say anything to her, just held her frail old hand with nicotine stained nails until she passed in the night. My mother was gone and I felt nothing except a vague sense of relief.
When I got to her house, it was like a time capsule. Other than a newer television, it was just like it was when I'd fled so many years ago. The smell of tobacco smoke hung like incense in the air. It felt oppressive, like a tomb.
I wandered the house in a bit of a daze. The one place I didn't want to go was upstairs. I didn't want to see my old room, or Thomas' room, or Mother's. Putting it off, I went to fix myself some supper, realizing I hadn't eaten in almost a day. I took a pause when I opened the fridge and saw a baby bottle on a shelf. Silently praying she had been babysitting for a neighbor, I fixed myself some toast with sardines and sat eating in the den watching TV. It had been almost forty years and it still felt rebellious not eating at the table and watching TV without permission.
My eyes grew heavy and I finally mustered up the gumption to head upstairs to go to bed. The stairs creaked in a familiar way under my feet and I was taken back to the feeling of dread hearing either Mother or Thomas climbing up. My old room was at the top of the stairs, I saw the door was nailed shut and had rambling quotes about Judas copied from the Bible in my mother's handwriting taped to the door. I sighed gently and turned from the door to head down the hallway, deciding Mother's room was probably the best place to sleep.
I passed by Thomas’ toy room and I heard a murmur from the room. I stopped, curiosity got the best of me and I entered. In Thomas' old toy room was a crib with joyful clown sheets. Dread swelled up inside me as I heard more murmurs and saw the sheets move. Approaching slowly, I peaked under the sheet and gasped.
Tucked inside was what looked like a baby gargoyle, gray and papery looking. Pus leaked out of its milky, bulbous eyes. I pulled back the blanket and saw it had no legs and its arms bent back, like wings on a bird. It was wearing just a cloth diaper, overflowing with tarry looking stool that took my breath away with its pungency, it smelled like Thomas’ blood, but somehow worse. My heart broke for this poor creature, Lord only knows how many years it has been in this crib suffering from its unholy existence.
So this is who Mother had wanted me to take care of…
Not knowing what else to do, I gently scooped him up. Like Thomas, he was shockingly heavy for how small his body was. Placing him on the changing table, I cleaned him and rewrapped his bottom in a clean diaper cloth. It was difficult, he fussed tremendously, crying and flopping around as much as his flipper-like arms would allow. I tried wiping off his oozing eyes and he snapped his mouth, which I saw was full of disturbingly square yellow teeth, trying to bite me. I carried him to the kitchen and rocked him while I heated up his bottle and he became furious with me, almost barking like a dog when my hand would get near his face.
He settled a bit as he fed, but he would still sometimes suddenly spit out the bottle and attempt to bite me. I laid him back in his crib, this abomination in a clown sheet, and I walked down the hall to Mother's room letting out a long sigh.
Combing through my mother's journals in the early hours of the morning, it looked like she tried the ceremony again shortly after Thomas died, but she either lacked Ingrid’s help or didn't have enough of my father's ashes left. Something went terribly wrong. She was vaguer than she had been about Thomas’ conception, but I suspect she had used some of Thomas' remains. The resulting birth she named Isaac.
Mother's journals told a sad tale of her and Isaac's suffering. She never mentioned me, but lamented the loss of Thomas and Dad relentlessly. She was hyper protective of Isaac, as that was all she had left. If her world had been small before, it became microscopic after he entered her life, requiring nearly constant care. According to Mother, he was blind and colicky, sometimes going years at a time without sleeping through the night. She had breast fed him for years, but she had to stop after he grew teeth and began biting her intentionally and feeding on her blood.
I spent a lot of time over the next few days pondering what to do. I had to get her estate in order, she had left me the house, in an obvious attempt to get me to continue caretaking for Isaac, but I didn't want it. I had my own cozy home an hour away from here, filled with happy memories and my possessions acquired traveling the world. Mother's home had a heavy energy I couldn't shake. Her and Thomas were both gone, but the memories of the scoldings and beatings hung in every corner, like cobwebs that would never sweep away.
So, I fed Isaac and kept him clean and tried to keep him company, although he seemed to hate me passionately. I took care of him, all the while thinking about what I was going to do. After a week, I felt resolute in what had to be done.
Gathering up all of Mother's journals in a tote, I made my way to Isaac and picked him up and carried everything to the living room.
The ancient logs in the fireplace meant for display ignited instantly. One by one, I fed the journals into the fire, burning away years of my mother's consuming sorrow. Isaac fussed and moaned next to me the entire time. When the last pages shimmered away into lacy ash, I took a throw pillow off the couch and gently cradled Isaac in my other arm. It didn't take long before he stopped struggling and I felt his little body relax after decades of suffering.
I gently wrapped up a bundle in a clown sheet and placed it in the fire. It burned furiously, like the paper in my mother's journals, and was soon gone. Nothing but ashes and embers.
“Don't worry, Mother,” I said purely for my own sake, "I took care of Isaac for you."
And finally, I felt at peace.

Baby is 6mo, currently on Alimentum. Original MSPI symptoms were rash and runny stool. We got the go ahead to try reintroduction of dairy at 6mo appt, we tried yogurt and it was a definite pass over the course of a week. No tummy ache, no bad stool. Pass. Breastmilk I had saved that had allergens. Pass. So we went ahead and tried a few bottles of RTF enfamil neuropro. Fail. Terrible stomach ache, woke up at night crying, but no rash this time around.
I’m going to try similac advance and cut the bottles to 3/4 Alimentum and 1/4 advance. Is it just an adjustment period to reintroducing dairy formula? Or is he still having MSPI symptoms with the runny stool?

I (21m) have been going to college for 3 years I first went to a community college my first year I got really low scores because I was taking classes to hard for me ( I was pre-med) I switched over to business and that year (2nd) year i managed to get onto the principal's list and everything was going really well. my g.p.a was still only around a 2.6
I never really finished that college. I wanted to walk within two years and so switched over to a certificate program so I could "graduate". I did it because I was the only person in my family to go to college for that long and sort of graduate. I failed a class during the summer and didn't get the certificate or an associates.
I then took that class at my new school and failed it, along with other classes leaving my g.p.a at 0.91 and with this last semester i won't be able to make it to a 2.0 and stay in school. I already appealed and this was realistically my last chance
I have been dealing with depression and so much anxiety that leaves me with a strange feeling in my stomach that makes me want to cry. My lack of motivation and ambition has left my work lacking luster and I knew deep down I wouldn't get good grades but I literally didn't know what else to do or how to make myself feel better so that I could perform better. College was the only way for me to live comfortably and away from my toxic family.
my brother is homophobic with narcissistic tendencies, constantly comparing me to him to make me feel inferior, mainly because I went to college and he didn't and he wanted me to feel that he is still better than me and as much as I try to avoid him some days he gets drunk and just harrasses me, no one ever says anything or he does it when no one else is around
my other brother (oldest) couldn't care less about anyone but himself. and I can't say my mom doesn't love me but we aren't close and the love she expresses makes me feel uncomfortable sometimes, she would rather treat me like a child, and opt for having me sleep in her bed then give me a bed in the apartment. living there makes me feel like i'm the only one that compromises and everyone else gets their own place,and I have no escape. my dad has disowned me for being gay and I dont talk to him nor could i ever really depend on him.
and so thats what I have to go back to now, and I normally do during the summer but i tend to find a 9-5 camp counselor job that I leave early and come home late for, but now after the summer I will still be there that is wat my life will look like and it's all my fault for not fighting harder, choosing the right or better life decisions or getting the right help, for being ashamed of all of my mistakes, for not studying more, for not drinking less and for skipping class.
but I don't want this to be life. what do I do , how do I fix this, what can I do so my life doesn't end here, What realistically are my options if I stay with my family i'll just spiral into depression but I don't know if ill be allowed to go back to school or even if with the way that I am that I should. all I want is my own space, and a stable reliable job.

Hi everybody, I’m not really sure where to post this but decided to give it a shot here. I’ll cut right to the chase: since last year I (20F) have gone from a steady 130-133 pounds to 146-151. Before that in high school I was 120-125, but got as low as 107 due to stress and sports at one point, which of course was not good but was quickly fixed. Anyway, I don’t know what could be causing this. I started birth control (Nuvaring) in August and initially didn’t notice any drastic changes, but am wondering if I am sensitive to estrogen since I also began experiencing insomnia, lower libido, mood swings, and other symptoms associated with high estrogen. I just switched to Lo Loestrin FE this week and am hoping it will help. I also got into a relationship in October and am very happy. I know relationship weight is a thing, but 20 pounds seems like a lot. No big lifestyle changes except I am now living off campus in a house and thus eat out or make food at home more often than getting university food. I never watched my calories before because I never needed to— my metabolism has always been wicked fast and even now it feels like it hasn’t slowed down, despite the weight gain. I started going to the gym but haven’t been consistent; I never went before when I was skinnier. This Summer I’m trying to go for runs at least twice a week and am working a job with a lot of physical labor so I’m hoping that will help.
The fat has appeared all over my body but is most noticeable in my stomach. I was always pretty toned there but now I have a lot of fat rolls, including ones right below my breasts that I absolutely hate and don’t see much on other women. This has all been accompanied by cellulite EVERYWHERE— stomach, thighs, butt, and even a bit on my arms. It seems like it appeared overnight one day, though I know this is impossible. I’ve always been insecure about my arms and now that they are bigger this feeling is worse, too. I guess having bigger boobs has been nice, since I’ve always been an AA or A cup, and now I’m more like a B. But it doesn’t really compare to the hate I feel about every other part of myself.
I have battled OCD for many years, which always complicates things, but I was also diagnosed with Body Dysmorphic Disorder about two months ago due to how much this has consumed me. And all my life, I have been skinny, and praised for it. So yes, I know I am still in the healthy range (5’8”) but this has been a pretty tough six months as my view of myself has become pretty distorted. Please keep this in mind before commenting 🫶🏼 I cannot help but feel my boyfriend is being robbed off the best version of myself, even though he absolutely loves my body and is my biggest support through all of this.
I’m wondering if I need bloodwork or if this is a lifestyle issue or a hormonal issue or a part of growing up. Has anyone else experienced sudden weight gain in their 20s?

I’ve been experiencing a ton of different symptoms for a while, for over two years I’ve had a lot of gastrointestinal distress like constipation and diarrhea, severe stomach cramps, gas and gas pains, nausea, etc. For the past year or so I’ve started to feel really run down and sick, like I have the flu or something. I’m always fatigued and resting doesn’t help, I have muscle pain all the time especially in my back and jaw, aching and cramps in my legs and arms, I’m always overheated and sweating, I get unexplained skin issues like rashes and redness, my lymph nodes feel sore and sometimes swollen, I have tachycardia. Just generally I usually do not feel physically well.
I’ve been seeing a new therapist for probably about a month. I’ve been talking to her about how my health issues have been affecting me and how tiring it can be to deal with doctors and how being fatigued and in pain 24/7 makes it really difficult to go about my regular life. I just checked the billing paperwork from my last session and realized she diagnosed me with Hypochondriasis. And I’m kind of spinning out now, like is she right, am I just making all of this up, what if I’m just crazy and paranoid and delusional??
It’s just that I never used to feel like this, like obviously I’d be tired sometimes and get headaches or stomachaches occasionally like a normal person, but I felt overall physically well. But now I feel like I’m sick or in pain a lot of the time, my muscles and joints are always intensely hurting and aching, I’m constantly having painful GI episodes that derail my plans and I’m stuck on the toilet feeling like I’m going to pass out, and the fatigue is not just tiredness, no amount of rest helps. I just mean that I didn’t used to feel like this, this isn’t my “normal”, my daily life is being disrupted because I don’t feel well.
But based on the diagnosis of hypochondriasis, it says you have a lot of symptoms but tests come back normal, which my blood tests haven’t shown any glaring issues so I guess that means it’s psychosomatic? And there are some symptoms of the disorder, like thinking and researching about your health and seeking out different doctors and tests, that I also have, because I have symptoms that are impacting my life and I want to figure out how I can feel better.
The diagnosis of hypochondriasis also says that you get anxious about minor symptoms like fatigue. But my fatigue is not a minor symptom, when I say fatigue I don’t mean tiredness or sleepiness, it’s like this constant heavy weight on me, it impacts my daily life because I feel too tired to do normal activities like school and work, and I can’t get through the day without sleeping, and even then I never feel rested. I feel so shitty thinking that my chronic fatigue is considered a minor symptom and I’m blowing it out of proportion due to hypochondriasis.
I’m honestly freaking out, my therapist putting that diagnosis on my chart makes me feel like I’m just insane and I’m questioning everything, I don’t know what to do or think. I keep getting told this is all in my head

I'm having a really hard time getting over my ex boyfriend. We were only technically together for a month even though I knew him as a child. The biggest problem is that I'm so obsessed that I can't function.
It has been three and a half months since he dumped me and my physical symptoms have gotten worse. At first I was numb and sad but it progressed to staying in bed all day or staring at the wall. I can't even eat or sleep and am suddenly scared to go outside.
I am on high doses of antidepressants and anxiety meds and I also see a therapist once a week, but I know I should not be acting so extreme.
I literally can't think of anything but my ex or things related to him, so I tried to distract myself by joining Facebook Dating. There i met a nice guy and even talked on the phone with him thinking that it would be comforting just to hear a man's voice.
Well, now the guy wants to meet me and we have exchanged Facebooks. This was last night, and ever since, I have been having horrible pains like I've been kicked in the stomach. My chest burns and aches and I'm missing my ex more than ever and worried I will never find someone I like as much as him again.
I'm currently in my bed and only got up to feed my dog and let her out.
I have been trembling with chills even though it's a hot day.
I have had similar episodes with other obsessions but nothing this bad.
When I pushed myself to shower yesterday, it was so painful and I spent the day rocking back and forth for hours to comfort myself.
Can anyone relate?

I rarely every have d* but just now it happened and I felt a burning sensation and I knew it was coming. All I've had to eat today were a breakfast sandwich, some yogurt, and a cheese stick. I may have a bit of lactose intolerance and my stomach started hurting and I got really bad gas pains but it passed. Earlier today I had normal bm but I'm getting a feeling in my lower stomach/back almost like I'm constipated? But I've gone to the bathroom twice today which is really rare for me. Can someone tell me what the cramps with either fp or sb feel like? Because I can't tell if the pain I'm having is cramps thst are usually associated with those. I don't feel incredibly n* but I'm scared that soon I'm going to get sick because I've just had d*. The pain in my lower stomach has been going on for 2 days now

21F currently taking 100 mg sertraline im not sure if it has anything to do with it, but i've been taking prilosec for my stomach for maybe a little less than a year? stopped taking them like last week and have had really bad body aches all over my arms and legs ever since. unsure if it is because of going cold turkey or because of something else? • im on my period but my aches don't usually get this bad • i have also had tension headaches and generally feel out of it • i sleep pretty late but i get enough sleep • i kind of have a bad eating schedule but i eat well for the most part I'm just worried it's like the flu or something and Im not getting better? please help!!!

Female, 118, 46, white. 5'5".
Always dehydrated and thirsty. Cannot drink plain water.
No smoking, or drinking. No drugs. Cycle most days. I go to the gym. I'm basically a nun. I am not active s----ly.
I drink a bit of coffee, never eat sugar. Super plain and boring.
So I cannot drink water without the following; ( it has always been this way)
Instant stomach ache, if cold water much worse. Instant dizziness and headache. Often the headache turns into a migraine that doesn't shift for 12 hours. I feel super wobbly and trembling, and occasionally get hallucinations after I've drank that water.
I don't get the same reaction if there is lemon/salt/flavour in the water. I can drink soda fine ( prefer not to)l or carbonated water and the effect is much much milder. So I think this has to do with electrolytes?
I drink a LOT of fruit-flavoured water, or lemon juice water with whatever sweeteners in there ( not sugar), and other iced teas etc to keep hydrated through the day. These beverages at least don't cause the stomach ache, headache and wobbly effect and nausea that plain water does. But I am constantly all the time dehydrated. To the point, that when I chug whatever fluid, even 20z, it just makes my mouth drier, and I can barely open my mouth.
At night I wake up constantly having to chug watelemon infused. A tiny sip of plain water is OK, but it doesn't work to keep my mouth wet.
I did have bloodwork in November that showed my very low in sodium. I can basically eat Marmite or Mustard or plain Miso paste straight from the tub at any time. I can never get enough of that stuff. It's almost impossible for me personally to feel "that's enough Miso/Marmite/Bouillon", I constant;y crave it. Even when I eat it I crave it.
This is getting worse too. Can anyone shed light? None of the Dr's in any checkup have handled it well. They just say "You're low sodium eat more salt". I probably ate a whole bottle of mustard earlier on.

Son 8.5 M, 45 lbs has abdominal pain since February. He doesn't go to school and stays in bed most of the time. It happened before but not as severe and went away after a month or so. We realize we need to wait longer for Amitripltyne to work but we are concened that he has rear good days (hours) and in bed most of the time. Normally he is a bright, fun and social boy and now doesn't leave his bed. Could this be something not tested for?
Current Outpatient Medications
famotidine 40 MG/5ML Recon susp - Take 2 mL (16 mg) by mouth at bedtime
gabapentin (Neurontin) 250 MG/5ML Solution Take 3 mL (150 mg) by mouth twice a day

hyoscyamine 0.125 MG Tab - does not help

amitriptyline 10 mg Tab - full dosage started May 2nd, makes him agressive

Medical History Summary:
8.5 years old has been constipating for many years. He has been diagnosed with encopresis in 2021. Ever since he was diagnosed with encopresis He was on MiraLAX .5 to .75 cup twice a day. This helped him to control his constipation. During all this time except for approximately a few weeks he was soiling his pants almost daily. He was also frequently complaining about abdominal pain. Per doctor’s recommendation we were reminding him to sit on the toilet after each meal. Feeding him with homemade meals and we try to limit processed food. We did physical therapy and psychologist therapy. He has a toilet foot stool and seat.
About 1 year ago (January 2023), a bowel cleanup was performed per Max’s pediatrician recommendations. One cupful of MiraLAX was given every 3 hours. (No fasting or clear food diet was recommended)
During that time evacuated lots of poops with diarrhea content. We did not achieve the yellow fluid and stopped after a couple of days. Since this cleanup Max experienced severe abdominal pain for about a month.
Per GI doctor recommendation, we were no longer doing cleanup to avoid severe abdominal pain. Instead, Max was back on his MiraLAX dose .75 cup twice a day with fiber gummies 4mg a day.
He has good apetite most of the time, except after a dose of Exlax. His stool was always help soft over these years.
Notes from GI visit April 22nd - Today he has more guarding, mild distension and tenderness. I can't tell if he has a surgical abdomen (ie volvulus, appendicitis) but it is not associated with vomiting or eating. His most likely diagnosis is abdominal migraines (abdominal pain and headaches) and anxiety at this point, but the pattern has been consistent without as much good days. Activity makes him worse, and we have considered ACNES as well. He has had multiple cleanouts, and the periodic soiling could be from inattentiveness. Perhaps this is from constipation, but should rule out surgical abdomen at this time. We had a long conversation today about abdominal migraines, but upon repeat exam, it is still quite guarded. Pain is daily / off and on. Has had 2 good days in last 3 weeks Appetite is good except when pain is high. No vomiting. Stooling daily with miralax. Sleeping well.
UPPER Endoscopy Diagnosis
A. Duodenum, mucosal biopsy:- Duodenal mucosa with no pathologic change. B. Duodenum, bulb, mucosal biopsy:- Duodenal mucosa with a small lamina propria lymphoid aggregate. C. Stomach, antrum/body, mucosal biopsy: - Antral-and oxyntic-type gastric mucosa with focal features of mild reactive (chemical) gastropathy. D. Esophagus, distal, mucosal biopsy: - Squamous epithelium with rare intraepithelial eosinophils (up to 2 per high-power field). E. Esophagus, proximal, mucosal biopsy:- Squamous epithelium with rare intraepithelial eosinophils (up to 1 per high-power field).
The overall findings are nonspecific. The esophageal findings do not meet threshold numerical criteria for a diagnosis of eosinophilic esophagitis. Reflux related changes are favored. Clinical correlation is recommended.

CT ABDOMEN PELVIS W CONTRAST

Narrative

IMPRESSION:Normal appendix. No CT evidence of inflammatory changes in the abdomen or pelvis. Moderate stool burden in the colon.NarrativeINDICATION: o appendicitis/abscess - GI requesting CT d/t guarding/distensionEXAMINATION: CT ABDOMEN AND PELVIS WITH CONTRAST - CT Abdomen And Pelvis W/ Contrast InjectionTECHNIQUE: Multiple axial images were obtained of the abdomen and pelvis following IV contrast. A radiation dose optimizationtechnique was used for this scan. DLP: 29.8 , CTDI vol: 0.63IV Contrast dosage and agent: 63 mL of Isovue 300Oral contrast: Administered.COMPARISON: None.____________________________________________FINDINGS:LOWER CHEST: Lung bases are clear without any infiltrate. No pleural effusion noted. There is no cardiomegaly or pericardialeffusion.LIVER: The liver has a homogeneous density. No focal masses noted. There is no intrahepatic biliary ductal dilatation.GALLBLADDER AND BILIARY TREE: No calcified gallstones. No gallbladder distension or wall edema. No intra- or extrahepaticbiliary ductal dilation.PANCREAS: No focal cystic or solid mass. There is no pancreatic ductal dilatation or peripancreatic fluid.SPLEEN: Normal size without focal cystic or solid mass.ADRENAL GLANDS: Normal.KIDNEYS AND URETERS: Both kidneys have a normal enhancement without hydronephrosis, renal cysts, masses or perinephric fluid.There is no hydroureter.PERITONEUM: No ascites or free air. No other fluid collection.BOWEL: No abnormal dilatation of the bowel loops is noted. Contrast is noted in several nondilated small bowel loops and in thecolon up to the splenic flexure. Moderate stool noted in the colon, including the rectum. Terminal ileum is visualized andappears normal. A normal caliber partially contrast filled appendix is seen in the right lower quadrant. A few scattered foci ofair also noted in the appendix. No adjacent inflammatory changes are seen. The appendix is best visualized on axial series #2,images 58-69/139.LYMPH NODES: No enlarged mesenteric or retroperitoneal lymph nodes.VESSELS: Vasculature appears normal. No stenosis or aneurysmal dilatation noted.URINARY BLADDER: Appears normal without wall thickening, mass or trabeculations.REPRODUCTIVE ORGANS: No pelvic masses.ABDOMINAL WALL: No discrete abdominal or pelvic wall hernia.BONES: No lytic or blastic abnormality.
Blood tests - Collection date: April 30, 2024 11:08 AM
Lactase 13.9 Normal value: >=14.0 nmol/min/mg Prot
Sucrase 51.0 Normal value: >=19.0 nmol/min/mg Prot
Maltase 201.3 Normal value: >=70.0 nmol/min/mg Prot
Palatinase 15.8 Normal value: >=6.0 nmol/min/mg Prot
Glucoamylase 24.2 Normal value: >=8.0 nmol/min/mg Prot

Sed Rate 9

Ferritin 24.7

C-Reactive Protein < .5

Lead, Venous, B <.1

White Blood Count 5.98

Hemoglobin 14.7

Mean Cell Volume 81.8

MCHC 34.5

Platelet Count 302

Red Blood Count 5.21

Hematocrit 42.6

MCH 28.2

RDW 12.4

MPV 8.8

Segmented Neutrophils (ABS #) 2.35

Final Absolute Neutrophil Count 2.35

Lymphocytes (ABS #) 3.8

Eosinophils (ABS #) 0.05

Immature Granulocytes (ABS #) 0

Monocytes (ABS #) .47

Basophils (ABS #) .03

Add: he has headaches on the right side and sensativity to light, not sure how often but at least several times a week.

Hello.. new to the group. Sorry about the upcoming novel I'm about to write and thank you in advance to anyone who reads the whole thing..
So.. it's for June 7th. The waiting list was over 2 years so I could've sworn they forgot about me. Got the call at the end of November '23 asking if I still wanted to take the test.. and today the call to schedule it.
I'm an emetophobe and I'm scared of the prep. I'm also extremely anxious about the results that will come after.
What prompted me to get a test was I had rectal bleeding for about.. 6 to 9 months straight daily. I even farted blood.. all red. No pain or any other symptoms. It eventually went away and never came back. When I was hospitalized for a different issue, I asked a doctor about it to which she just replied it was hemorrhoids. Which.. I dunno. It had been going on for like 6 months by that point. So I reluctantly went to see my GP and was put on the waiting list.
So now here we are.
I'm so.. particular about what I put in my stomach. I have an issue with textures and I worry about failing to do the prep. But because of the bleeding, and its been years since that, I really need to get this done. I'm not scared of the exam itself as we usually get sedated.. just the prep and results itself.
I'm hoping that it's just diverticulosis..? As my mother has it rampant in her system and my sister once had diverticulitis so I'm guessing I might have it as well. But.. they never bled like I did. And I'm terrified as to what's going on with me. I already have a lot of health issues so I tend to be a hypochondriac. The unknown is terrifying.
And the prep.. I've been trying not to have panic and anxiety attacks just thinking about it.
What would you say is the easiest prep for someone like me? Who has an issue with textures and whatnot. Maybe even flavoring. I'm a massively picky eater so I never do well with trying new things. Do you have any suggestions?
Another random question is.. has anyone here had prolonged rectal bleeding and not have pre-cancerous polyps? Something.. anything to give me some kind of hope that it could be something else.
Thankfully, other than IBS-D and abnormal bowel issues, I don't have any other notable issues. And no weight loss that one associates with cancer. But.. colon cancer is a slow cancer so.. doesn't mean I'm quite off the hook.
Anyway.. I'm rambling. Does anyone have any advice for me? Experiences? Words of wisdom or encouragement? That maybe someone had rectal bleeding and were okay..? Which prep is easiest to take..?
My brain is all over the place, how insanely anxious I am. Doesn't help that I haven't been sleeping well lately.
Thank you for any and all contributions you may have.. I truly appreciate it.
Edit: Fixing grammar mistakes.

TL;DR - 25 years with the same woman. She's cheated on me at least once that I knew of, possibly more but I've never been able to prove it. I'm beginning to feel like something isn't right again, and don't know if I should let it go or look for evidence of infidelity. If I find, should I leave her?
My wife (we'll call her Dee) and I have been together for about 25 years now, living together for most of that time, and officially married for 12 years.
Our first few years together were amazing, we had a great sex life, and did everything together. In her early 20s, they found pre-cancerous lesions on her cervix, which had to be surgically removed, and our sex life started to go downhill as it was now very painful for her.
Despite this, I continued to work menial jobs to pay the bills while she went to school. Between stress and eating out frequently, I went from a svelte 80Kg (I'm 185cm BTW) to about 105Kg, and despite being skinny growing up, I've struggled with my weight ever since.
When she graduated, having paid her bills for the last 4 or 5 years, and seeing potential in me to take care of their daughter, her parents invited us to move in with them while I went to school, an offer I gladly accepted at the age of 24.
For the next year, I worked got, did excellent in school, and would go on to graduate with top marks. At one point, we went back home to visit with friends, and I was taken aside and told by one of them that Dee had cheated on me.
As soon we were back together, I confronted her immediately and she denied everything. Dee claimed that she couldn't understand why my friends were trying to hurt our relationship, and other assurances. I believed her, and cut off ties with my friends who would besmirch her character like that, but it never sat well with me.
The following spring of 2005, she left her computer unlocked and her email open. Something deep inside me couldn't let go, and I decided to snoop. I'm not proud of it, but nevertheless, I found what I was looking for - an email from her to "Charles", some disgusting yeti of a man-child, begging him to deny that they'd fooled around and tell my friend William that he was mistaken, and it wasn't her.
I confronted her again, and again, she lied, and only when I showed her her own confession did she finally admit to it. She said it was a stupid thing to do, she was afraid she was going to lose me, it happened when we weren't doing well together (although she never voiced her displeasure to me)...
I can't explain why I stayed - perhaps it was because I believed I still had a future with her, but I told her it was going take a lot of work to rebuild our relationship.
Within a year, we moved out, I bought us a house, and things were good for a while. eventually, I started to feel that terrible ache in my heart again, and after seeing some suspicious text messages in her phone (although nothing outright damning), I confronted her again, and again, she flatly denied that she was seeing anyone else. The texts were harmless, she's like that with all of her friends.
Things have gone on that way for a while, and today I decided to snoop around in her Facebook messages, and came across her chat with a man from back in 2015. Again, a fat, unattractive older man. In it, he apologized for being "gropey" with her at a party at his place, and she replied with "no worries, were all a little on the stupid end."
Of course she never mentioned any of this to me, so I can't help but wonder what else she's keeping from me. Her and her sister go on trips without me, concerts, comedy shows, and the like, and I can't but wonder what she gets up to.
I have no idea whether she's currently cheating on me, or what she's allowed to happen to her in any of these places. She's not the time to discourage unsolicited male attention, and knowing I would be upset, is more apt to keep it from me.
I work from home 90% of the time now, and make a very good living and have a great job with a good pension. I'm actively working on my weight through eating clean and exercising. I do all the cooking, all of the cleaning, and pay all of our bills. I'm a good provider, and our future is assured.
I don't know why she feels she needs to step out on me, and of the two of us, I'm insatiably horny and always go out of my way to take care of sexual needs as often as she'll let me. Although I'm past my prime, and have put on a few stone, I'm not unattractive.
I feel sick right now thinking about all of this, and am unsure what to do.
I feel like I don't have any concrete evidence that she's been unfaithful recently, but have terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that something isn't right. I'm tempted to get ahold of her mobile phone after she's gone to bed and see if my worries are justified.
Should I leave it alone, or should I keep digging? What should I do if I find it?

Content Warning:Mentions of Child Abuse & Gore
They called me a colic baby, meaning I was a seemingly healthy baby that was distressed for an unknown reason. The fits of crying mostly dissipated by six months, but they'd crop up every now and then into toddler-hood. When I became capable of babbling a few words, I would summarize my pain in a few words: belly hurt. Belly HURT!
My parents didn't have much money, but they took me to the doctor for a checkup anyway. After running a physical exam and blood test, they determined that I was merely an excessively gassy little girl and should probably eat a more gut-friendly diet. They also prescribed some medicine which would eliminate the gas and relieve my pain.
It was from that moment on that my parents gave me the nickname "Gas Girl" (which I despised). The name stuck for several years, and anytime I'd get a little stomach ache my mom or dad would say, "uh, oh. It's not Gas Girl returning, is it?" I'd glare at them with my arms folded and pout, saying, "I'm not Gas Girl. I'm Wonder Girl!" My parents would share a look, then burst out laughing. Just as I was about to shout a retort, my dad would open up his arms and bend down in that familiar pose which signaled liftoff, and all my childish rage detached like a racing sticker as I leaped into my dad's arms and he flew me around the living room shouting "Who is it? It's Wonder-girl! Here to save the day from Gas Girl!"
Anyway, just as the nickname wore off, the pain returned. I was about 7 or 8 when I had my first big episode. I was in second grade, and the class was cutting out shapes. The pain came on so suddenly I remember lurching back and falling out of my seat. The next few hours were a blur of adults: my teacher, the nurses, the principal, my parents. I remember how cold and alone I felt despite being surrounded by grown ups, and my stomach hurt so much I was crying pretty much nonstop.
My dad bought a bunch of OTC medicine to try and settle what he thought was a really bad gas episode. My mom laid at the side of my bed and did bicycles in the air with me. Hours passed in pain as my adolescent imagination conjured up images of an evil little elf blowing thousands of bubbles in my belly. I consciously pictured myself popping them, but every time I did, more were blown. My dad scheduled a doctor's appointment for the next morning, and my mom stayed at my side until I was able to fall asleep sometime late in the night.
I dreamed vividly a horrific nightmare. I was strapped to a black, metal box. A surgeon donning blue scrubs with white gloves and a mask entered the space in my peripheral vision. The air was cold but crisp, as if every bit of dust had been scrubbed out of existence. I could feel my breathing, my heartbeat, even my skin. The doctor stepped forward and I could see the distortion of a smirk in the folds of his mask. I expected him to say something, to tell me what he wanted, but instead he lifted my shirt so my belly was exposed. "It's cold", I said in a mumbly voice. He lifted his hand in the air, and I saw behind it off in the back of the room was what looked like the glass wall of an aquarium. I was confused for a second, but only a second. The surgeon plunged his hand into my stomach like a spear, splitting through the flesh as if it were the skin of a ripe fruit. The previously silent man began to cackle like a maniacal villain as I nearly passed out from the pain. I felt his fingers swimming through my guts like parasitic worms. My body shook as cold sweat and blood began to ooze from my pores. I wanted to scream but I couldn't make a sound. I could only lay there, paralyzed, as the evil doctor explored my insides.
Somehow I lost consciousness in the dream, but when I woke up, the memory came flooding back, and I screamed with all the force of a thunderstorm. My parents skipped the appointment and rushed me to immediate care, but by the time we arrived, the pain was gone. I explained my dream to the doctor, but he said it was normal to dream up reasons for the pain. They recommended a CT scan to screen out the possibility of an ulcer or internal bleeding. Despite my parents' scarce savings, they agreed to run the test. However, something deeply entrenched in my mind thought of the dream with the surgeon and I protested. "I don't want a test!" I screamed. "But, honey, how are we going to know what's wrong?" replied my mom. "Nothing's wrong now. I don't want a test."
Looking back now on my persistence, it should have been obvious that there was something wrong with me, but my parents, who were thinking of their finances, allowed themselves to acquiesce to my demands. The pain would continue into and throughout my teenage years, and the one benefit that I can credit to it was that it taught me how to endure pain and hide it well before puberty started. Compared to my childhood cramps, period cramps were around a B+. Very bad, but not end of the world bad. However, they'd stick around more reliably, and eventually the two began to combine until I could no longer discern between them. Occasionally I would have a nightmare and wake up with a pain that was a little higher in my stomach, almost approaching my chest, but it would always disappear by breakfast time, and the chaos of a teenage girl's life would once again reassert itself in the form of an outfit that didn't look quite right or the memory of every word of a conversation with a guy I liked or how my teacher was out to get me. Basically, I had become normal.
And then two weeks after I turned 16, my dad passed away from heart failure. Apparently the stress from a paycheck-to-paycheck life in sales added onto a bad diet and a penchant for alcohol was a recipe for disaster. He was only 49. I was crushed.
The weeks and months following his funeral were filled with teenage anger and resentment. I directed most of it at my mom, who I held accountable for not being strong enough to step up and help with the bills. One day, when I was searching the drug cabinet for some painkillers to deal with some bad cramping, I noticed a new prescription for a drug with a really long name. I looked it up. It was an antidepressant. From that moment on I stopped giving my mom shit, but I grew a bit distant from her. I started spending a lot more time with my friends. I became reckless, adopting a drinking habit and unsafe sex practices. I smoked a bit but I didn't really like it. I guess I was just trying to find a way to move on, as naive as it was.
Fast forward to my present situation, and I'm a college student. A junior to be exact. I ended up scrounging up enough money from working two restaurant jobs to see a therapist on my own dime, and managed to make peace with my mom before leaving. We both talked out all of our trauma and cried together, and from that moment on, I haven't had a drink. About six months ago I got on the pill. I was starting to see one guy consistently and I wanted to be safe, but also I wanted to know what it felt like to not have stomach cramps anymore. It was freeing. I remembered my dad lifting me up into the air as a child, and I figured it kinda felt like that. I still cry thinking about him, although I don't let anyone see.
Anyway, about a week ago I started having really bad pain again, but this time it was in my chest. I would wake up in my apartment (I share a 3-bedroom with some friends from the college) with heart palpitations. My heart felt like a snake had wrapped around it and was trying to choke it out. The pressure would give way to a burst of fast ba-dum's, then settle, then start again. I remembered my dad's prognosis and started to get really scared, so I scheduled an appointment with the on-campus doctor for the next day through the online health platform.
They told me that chest pain is no joke and scheduled to have me scanned at a nearby hospital. This was four days ago. My boyfriend, Kevin, drove me there even though I said I'd be fine going alone. I think I already knew our relationship wasn't going to work out long term, so I was kind of checked out. I felt bad about it though because Kev is actually a really good person, but our personalities just don't match. He's very introverted and doesn't like to go out, whereas I thrive in group settings. Anyway, he drove me and I ended up getting an X-ray. The doc came in to share the results and I was immediately put off by the dubious expression on his face.
"What do you mean the images are blurry?" I asked.
"Well, it's just… that. They're blurry. It's very unusual for this to happen unless you have a pacemaker or some other device implanted. Do you know if you have something like that?"
"No, never," I said with a quaver in my voice. For some reason I thought back on my childhood dream with the surgeon and felt the urge to vomit.
"Well, let's run a CT scan and see if we can make anything out." He soothed.
Normally the CT and MRI dock was booked for a week out but the doctor happened to have an open space for me that same morning, so I waited about an hour and then got in the big tube machine that took pictures of my chest and abdomen. He said he should have the results by Thursday. That was Yesterday.
I was driving onto campus for my 9AM class when I got the call.
"Hello, this is Dr. **** calling for Josie **** ." (names redacted for privacy reasons)
"Oh, yes, this is Josie," I said and fit the phone between my shoulder and ear as I tried to find a comfortable posture."
"Yes, hello," the male doctor said in grave way which made me feel like this wasn't going to be a short call. "I wanted to see if you were available to come in today for some more tests."
"More tests?" I asked. "What about the first ones?" Images of blocked heart valves and cancer presented themselves on my mental screen.
"Yes, well, I wanted to discuss the results with you in person. There was a bit of a … well, an inconsistency, and I didn't want to upset you—"
"Upset me!?" I blurted, my free hand flying out over the steering wheel, swerving my car toward the curb. I corrected, then lowered my voice, "sorry, I don't mean to be …" be, what? This is completely absurd. "Could you at least give me some indication of what's wrong with me? I'm just kind of panicking here."
The doctor was quiet for a moment, then returned. "Sorry, Josie, I didn't mean to spook you. Both the X-ray scan and CT scan are picking up interference which is unusual. It's possible it's just a flaw on our end, so that's why we wanted you to come back in—to do an MRI and really verify what the issue is. This one would be free of charge and we'd get you results same-day as we feel bad about the issues with the machinery. Do you think that would be possible?"
I took a deep breath. I still felt uneasy, but at least now there was some kind of explanation I could lean on. "Okay, yeah, I can come in. I have class until 9:50AM, but I can drive over after and be there around 10:15, 10:20-ish. Would that work?"
"That would work great. We'll see you then."
I spent the whole of my communications class thinking about what could be wrong with me, doodling my ideas down on a notebook. Heart disease. Cancer. Some kind of peptic ulcer. Maybe it was the pill? The drinking? Was this some kind of cosmic retribution? I didn't know.
An hour later I was back at the hospital. I expected to be ushered into the MRI prep room, but instead I found myself in one of the normal patient rooms, sitting upright on a bed. The nurse did the preliminary height and weight measurements and medical history. I asked about the MRI, but all she said was that the doctor will discuss that with me. Before she left, she handed me an assessment to fill out. It seemed to be a list of questions about the medical history of my family, specifically about our mental health. Does your family have a history of Schizophrenia? Have there been any instances of domestic abuse? Did you have vivid nightmares as a child? Etc. I marked the boxes, then set the clipboard down.
At last I heard the fated knock on the door, and my doctor came in holding an Ipad. The door was only open for maybe a couple seconds, but I could see multiple nurses and technicians peeking their heads in my direction, as if they were trying to catch a glimpse of me. That can't be good.
"Hello, Josie," the doctor said and clicked on the little TV screen. He didn't even look at me. I could see dried sweat along his hairline.
"What's happening? I thought I was going to get an MRI…"
"Well, actually we aren't sure if that's the best course of action." the doctor said as he clicked the screen and pulled up a series of images.
"Can you look at me, please?" I snapped.
The doctor raised his head and tilted it in my direction. His mouth was agape, his eyes wide as if only realizing I was here at that moment. "I'm sorry, Josie." He took a deep breath, preparing some kind of canned presentation, then let it out and said, "It's just easier if I show you." He pulled up the first global image from what I presume was my CT scan. It was a front-shot. I could see my organs as little geometric shapes and—
"Wait, what is that?" I asked, pointing at the screen.
"That—is the problem."
I spent the next minute just staring at it. Somehow, in between all of the organs, there was some kind of cylindrical mass—I thought it was my spine at first but quickly realized it was too wide and there weren't any vertebrae—and at the head of the mass was, very clearly, a hand.
"What the fuck is that" I said in a tone that was at once forceful and pointed.
"It appears," the doctor started, looking away again. "It appears that there is a mechanical hand in your chest cavity. It's attached to a piece of a forearm that begins at your stomach, here," he pointed, "and continues up until, well, it appears to be holding your heart."
Ten seconds passed in silence. Then I was hit with the equivalent of the laughing gas they give you at the Dentist's office. All the blood in my body surged to my forehead and I felt light as the very thin hospital air. "Hahaha!!! You expect me to believe that? What kind of fucking clown-show hospital is this? Am I at the circus?' I stood up and started toward the door. The doctor body blocked me.
"Please, Josie, that isn't it."
"Oh?" I said sarcastically. "Please, do tell."
"Could you have—oh, okay, okay,, let me explain."
I stood there with my arms folded, unrelenting.
"When we first had you do the X-ray there was a big blur. It was clear that something was blocking us from seeing the image. The CT scan was able to take some actual pictures of it. I know it seems, well, unusual—"
"Wait, what the hell is that?" I asked, gesturing toward the clipboard.
"What?" The doctor looked disoriented.
"Those questions. Are you trying to insinuate that my mom and dad implanted some kind of mechanical hand in my body?"
"No," the doctor raised his hands. "We were just trying to gather some more information… Josie," the doctor said as I once again headed for the door handle. "Please, there's more. From the blood test we conducted it seems that you're pregnant."
I was so done. "I'm on the pill, asshole." I sneered and swung the door open, ignoring the sets of eyes trained on me as I scurried to the end of the hall, ran outside, and climbed into my car. I expected to see a bunch of people in white coats running after me, but there was no one. I started the car as tears began to stream from my eyes. Fuck them, I thought and sped out of the parking lot.
I couldn't return to my apartment. I ended up driving for hours, working my way back to my hometown. I spent a long time thinking about all the things I had experienced growing up. The stomach pain, slowly working its way up to my chest. The vivid dream of the surgeon feeling around my guts. Was it really that crazy to think my body was trying to tell me something? Why had I decided against having a CT scan all those years ago? Why now? I didn't—couldn't believe what was happening to me. But was that just because I didn't want to believe it?
And then there was the pregnancy. I was definitely on the pill. I knew it wasn't Kev's, or at least I was pretty sure it wasn't. We haven't been having sex for a little over a month now. But did that mean that something else didn't impregnate me? My paranoia was at its peak. I considered the possibility that maybe it was me that was Schizophrenic. None of this made any sense. I wanted my dad. I missed him. I considered going to see my mom, but despite making up with her, I still didn't feel close enough to her to own up to everything. I wanted to be alone—needed to be alone.
I ended up getting a Motel about 10 minutes away from my house. It was around 1AM when I finally opened the door to my room and laid down on the bed. After hours of thinking, a single thought occurred to me like a kind of defense mechanism: if I really am pregnant, I'm not keeping the baby. I want it out.
Just as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard the notification sound go off on my phone, which was odd since I was sure I had set it to vibrate. I turned and grabbed it, unplugging it from its charging dock. I had received a text message from an unknown, 5-digit number: 66669. This is what it said.
66669: If you terminate my baby, I will crush your heart.
***
I haven't been able to sleep since. It's now 6AM and I've drafted this as a cry for help. Please, let me know what you think I should do. I'm too "in it" to see the details clearly. I feel alone and scared and paranoid. Someone or something is watching me. Maybe it has been my whole life.

I'm having a really hard time getting over my ex boyfriend. We were only technically together for a month even though I knew him as a child. The biggest problem is that I'm so obsessed with him that I can't function.
It has been three months since he dumped me and my physical symptoms have gotten worse. At first I was numb and sad but it progressed to staying in bed all day or staring at the wall. I can't even eat or sleep and am suddenly scared to go outside.
I am on high doses of antidepressants and anxiety meds and I also see a therapist once a week, but I know I should not be acting so extreme.
I literally can't think of anything but my ex or things related to him, so I tried to distract myself by joining Facebook Dating. There i met a nice guy and even talked on the phone with him thinking that it would be comforting just to hear a man's voice.
Well, now the guy wants to meet me and we have exchanged Facebooks. This was last night, and ever since, I have been having horrible pains like I've been kicked in the stomach. My chest burns and aches and I'm missing my ex more than ever and worried I will never find someone I like as much as him again.
I'm currently in my bed and only got up to feed my dog and let her out.
I have been trembling with chills even though it's a hot day.
I have had similar episodes with other obsessions but nothing this bad.
When I pushed myself to shower yesterday, it was so painful and I spent the day rocking back and forth for hours to comfort myself.
I have never heard of this kind of reaction. Can anyone relate?

in three weeks, T has helped me put on so much muscle i managed to outgrow a brand new binder that i had purchased to size up to begin with and holy shit the pain of wearing a too-small binder for a full work shift fucked me up. do not try to push through wearing a binder if it feels wrong.
for context, before T, i was really underweight and i couldn't outpace my fast metabolism to gain any meaningful weight. i'm 5'5" and bounced between 100-105lbs and i was strong for my size but that's not saying much versus the general male population. this is where i'd say a huge majority of my dysphoria lived, having narrow shoulders, the little fat i had all being at my hips, people assuming i'm too weak for even basic tasks. so at the start of this year, i really put my nose to the grindstone and have been practicing muay thai and weight-lifting multiple times a week like i used to pre-pandemic. i was doing okay at it! i'm never going to the olympics but i was feeling good.
and then i started T in february. my appetite has exploded and i've been putting away over 2300 calories per day just to not feel so goddamn hungry. i've been focusing on high protein foods and trying to drink a quart of milk a day and two protein shakes. it's also given me more energy and confidence to go workout and practice even if i'm not feeling 100% mentally up to it.
so, between all the food and the working out, i've managed to put on 20lbs of mostly muscle in 3 months and holy shit the difference is real. T is putting a majority of it on my upper body. but then also i don't get as cold as easily, i have more energy all the time, my posture is better, my clothes fit better, this specific dysphoria is evaporating slowly and holy shit i feel alive and present. but there's a catch.
none of my fucking binders fit. at first, say around late-march, i got an inkling my flavnt half-binders were too small. something just felt off cause i can usually forget they're on but i was just so aware of them. so i stopped wearing them and i sized up and bought a new one like 3 weeks ago. it fit and felt great, back to normal i thought. i wear my binders maybe 2-3 times a week normally, but last week i had really physically active work so i didn't wear it until friday with nothing but a t-shirt over it. and by the end of the day i was fucking suffering. i had shooting pains when i moved any part of my upper body. i was getting those cramps you get when running along your ribs, while standing still. i couldn't take it off my entire 8 hr shift + 45 min commute, until i got to my girlfriend's place. i spent the rest of the night switching between curling up into a ball or doing any stretch i could think of to get away from the pain, my girlfriend also gave me a massage but the pain stayed just as bad the entire time, it was constant. it felt like a stomach ache, chest pains, running cramps, and period cramps all at the same time. breathing was like i'd been holding my breath underwater for ages and couldn't catch it again. it went on all night until i took an ibuprofen and got very high, then it finally eased. when i was smoking, i had a hacking coughing fit that i think shook up my lungs and cleared me out, and i also had a laughing fit when i was high and watching youtube that also definitely did something to help in terms of muscle pain. it was the opposite of laughing until you're sore lmao. i'm okay now after a weekend of free-balling it with absolutely no sports bras or any compression and doing some yoga to stretch it out, but christ that was so much pain i was freaked out. and i have a decent pain tolerance! i've been hit by 2 cars, i severed a finger once, i've done combat sports on and off my whole life! i'm never making that mistake again.
the night i was rolling around in pain, my girlfriend wanted to check something. i just happened to have my rib and chest measurements in my phone from when i bought the new binder, so my girlfriend measured me again to check to see just how badly i fucked up, and i went from being 27" around my ribs to being 32" (i'm gonna make these lats into wings) and my chest went from 31" to being 34". my girlfriend just laughed and she just said "you're bulking up too much babe, it's a good problem to have"

I am a Lovecraft fan and did you read his “The Shadow Out of Time”? I think that JJ has peculiar similarities to the Flying Polyp race. (There, Flying Polyps were extraterrestrial race which devoured and exterminated another alien race named there as Yithians or The Great Race) It’s just a speculation I made for fun, nothing special. Just compared two aliens. For fun.

1. I always wondered why no remains/prints of the Yithians were found anywhere (according to the lore of the story). If the Polyps had the similar digestive tracts as JJ has, then there was nothing left of the devoured victim. Literally. They digest everything. No bones/cartilage/other hard parts for you, no waste products, they spit out metal or so as much as possible.

Devoured to nothing.

1. Returning to the first: the weapon of the Great Race against the Polyps. Polyps are only vulnerable to electricity. Jean Jacket, according to the canon, flies due to the electromagnetic field that he creates himself (obviously for this he has a special organ, I suspect it places somewhere on the sides and on the top like stingrays have), this is also why he interfered with the electronics. Let's say the Yithians used weapons that resonated/oppositely suppressed/something like that with the field of the Polyps. Then, if we consider JJ, these interferences not only deprived him of normal movement and they fell down, at least it could directly harm their organs, because if they flew due to this field, then it is clear that other systems of their body also depend on it. They could have been paralyzed by such a blow, or killed outright. That is, yes, this is indeed a very effective weapon against Jean Jacket
   
2. Polyps controlled the winds and other things. Well, everything is simple here: this is a beautiful metaphor for how JJ eats sand and creates winds and hurricanes. This is literally what he did in his spare time.
   
3. Polyps left huge marks on the ground (without touching it) Idk, can we say that JJ has an image of a flying saucer? -> reference to crop circles -> back to the Polyp tracks? Maybe these traces are a consequence of the influence of the JJ’s electromagnetic field, which interacts to the surface sand when he flies close above the ground, like Chladni’s patterns
   
4. The polyps are semi-material and freely mixed through the air, and their shapes are indescribable.
   

Let's assume that the shape of a flying saucer is not necessary for the JJ-likes. In his open form, he indeed looks somewhat semi-material, and his body is very unusually shaped and truly indescribable. And moving through the air is quite feasible for him thanks to the field + the fact that he is light.

1. But the saucer shape is already a modification, which allows him to quickly cut through the sky. Yes, exactly in the form in which he appeared in the end, he will not be able to fly quickly, this is the most non-aerodynamic form. But if he shrinks into a disk, it will be easier for it to fly at supersonic speeds. Let me remind you that he is probably very heavy, what makes a multi-ton predator need extra drag in an indescribable form. Plus it's easier to hide.

But the same Lovecraft had no talk of any plates. Well, yes, but they didn’t have to: there were a lot of them, you don’t need to hide or hunt, your crowd won’t drive you crazy

1. «…and of strange winds and whistling noises associated with them. And I thought of the tales, wherein the horror of great winds and nameless subterrene ruins was dwelt upon...» (quote from the story) This is an addition to point 5 (winds). But about the sounds: JJ has a very wide vocal range of sounds. In reality, they are whistling, clicking, grinding, etc.

«And all the while cold fingers of damp vapour clutched and picked at me, and that eldritch, damnable whistling shrieked fiendishly above all the alternations of babel and silence in the whirlpools of darkness around.»(quote from the story) Those moments where JJ eats people are really similar. It creates a wind current to suck in the victim.

1. Flying polyps are an aggressive and predatory species. It is unknown how intelligent they are. Having no vision, they felt in some special way through any matter. Yes, Jean Jacket is very aggressive. Fact. Especially if you make a visual contact with him. But even without this, he's crazy. Yes, in the film's FD, of course, it is generally accepted that Jacket is just an animal. I used to think so too. But now it seems to me that his behavior is more aggressive than animalistic. At the very least, he did some things and clearly did them on purpose. Yes, destroying the Jupe’s show is an act of aggression. Drenching OJ's house with blood (intentionally! He deliberately vomited all over his ranch) is an act of aggression. Gobbling up a reporter and flying above OJ, while the guy is screaming inside Jeans' stomach is an act of aggression. And much more, as well as the intonation of some of its sounds. Yes, JJ is not a ruthless monster. But then he clearly went on the offensive and tried to show his dominance here. This also supports the first scene of the film with Gordy: the monkey lived calmly until he went crazy from the constant abuse and killed everyone. In fact, JJ demonstrates aggression only for the reason that your “attention” to him drives him crazy and he is mad, cuz that Jupe allegedly “deceived” him. That is, we clearly have awareness and he enjoys his “revenge.” And he is mad by the fact that they are looking at him, it drives him into rage, just like Polyps. Or how aggressively he behaved when he saw the ball. The whole bitch is exhausted. Remark: I know that all the actions of JJ also can be explained that he wanted to lubricate his throat/hungry/etc but let it be, of course that’s all true, I just want to note that the fact that he are the horse decoy instead of real horse made him suffer from pain and made him aggressive, really agressive towards the person who “fed” him before and the whole crowd from the SLE only made it worse
   
2. Lack of vision in Polyps. Yes, it seems like the plates don’t even have glasses (but he still has something like eyes, but it’s still, like, and these “eyes” are well hidden)
   

I (28f) live with my 29m partner. He is prescribed 60mg adderall daily but every month, he ends up taking 4-5 a day (instead of 3 20mg) and running out around a week early. This puts him at 80-100 a day. During the last week of the month, he sleeps all day, cannot stop eating (resulting in stomach aches) and is unable to perform basic tasks because he is so tired. I have talked to him about this and each month he says he wants to do better next month, but the cycle repeats.
Also, he is unemployed and looking for work but when he is out of commission once a month, this leads to major anxiety for me that it's another week going by without progress because he's hardly able to check his email during this time. I'm worried about his mental and physical health taking that high of a dosage. How can I help? What would you suggest he do?