Hi all, and apologies if this isn’t the right place for this, I wasn’t sure where to post and I can’t seem to find anyone with a similar situation. I work outside and about 3 weeks ago now I was at work and could feel I was going to get a pimple at the corner of my lip where it meets the skin line (I often get whiteheads and blackheads here and usually can feel them get irritated/inflamed). Unfortunately that same day I was moving some branches back and let go and one of them snapped and hit my lip in the exact same spot I felt the pimple forming. It stung like hell the rest of the day and I could feel a welt forming.
So when the pimple finally surfaces it’s like the worst pimple I’ve seen in my life, and appears to maybe have two white heads and still the huge welt underneath, I thought due to the trauma on my lip, but after a comment or two I started to worry it might be a cold sore. I’ve never had one in my life and was/am super worried. My dad thought different though and was convinced it was a pimple, I wore an overnight pimple patch and when it decided to burst it did appear to burst like a normal whitehead/pustule with the usual whitehead/pustule gunk, and I put some neosporin on it and it started to heal.
Like two days into healing, it’s finally looking SO much better and I’ve decided it was a traumatized pimple, and I go over to my parents for dinner and my mom decides to wipe the corner of her grown daughter’s mouth, right where this spot is healing, and manages to dig in with her (very sharp nail) in such a painful way that I immediately feel it start to welt up again. Three days later it’s blown up again and looks really funky, still no more painful than a typical pimple but clearly swollen underneath and at this point does resemble a more mild cold sore because it’s no longer a perfect circle/more like an oval, but maybe that’s from repeated trauma cause it can’t catch a break? Once again not sure what to do and am freaking out.
This time I’m outside for 5 days with wind and dust and debris before I can fully deal with it, so I once again clean and don a pimple patch in which the usual gunk comes out, but so does a small amount of watery/bloody discharge at the end. It never looked blister-y and I’m not sure how cold sores behave typically. It never seemed to crust over when initially healing and did seem to be healing like a pimple, albeit a complicated one? But at this point it looks kind of weird and I’m wondering if it’s an infected pimple? Or it is a cold sore and it was incredibly bad timing for a first one? Can they even refill like that and would the fluid be so identical to pimple pus (ugh gross) in the first place?
I’m going to make a doctors appointment tomorrow, but they’re very far out and I’m not sure what I should be doing in the mean time. I’m now on week 3 of this one spot wrecking havoc on my face and tbh I’m kind of sick of my lip/lip line being swollen. I did all the things that helped it heal and they seem to be working more slowly after this new trauma. Has anyone else dealt with something similar?
Thanks for any help/ suggestions and taking the time to read all of this. I didn’t want to post a pic in the main post, but if it’s helpful I can add one. Honestly not sure it would help, it’s been through so much 😂

My parents' relationship wasn't always the ideal one. I grew up seeing their fights because of past issues like my dad's infidelities, my dad's toxic side of the family, etc. I grew up thinking that was the norm. Pero, hindi pala dapat ganun yung isang pamilya.
I grew up with my best friend pero we mostly spent time together in school since malayo bahay namin sa isa't isa. Fast forward to the time na lumipat sila malapit samin, so I got to spend most of my weekend afternoons with them a lot. That was also the time na kakauwi nina tito and tita from abroad for their house blessing. My HS weekends with them would usually consist of running sa morning tas lunch sa bahay nila. Minsan, hanggang hapon nandoon ako para manood lang kami ng tv sa sala, discuss ng news, mag-aral, tas makipagkwentuhan with the grandparents.
I still recall yung first lunch ko kasama sina tito and tita (since they live overseas for their business and holidays lang sila umuuwi), nanibago talaga pananaw ko about couples. Sobrang sweet nila unlike my parents. Memorize ko pa yung kwento ni tito about sa panliligaw niya kay tita. Super saya niya raw nung sinagot siya ni tita given na puro sulat at papel lang before since hindi pa uso yung phone. May time na he would ride a boat back-and-forth para bigyan lang ng flowers si tita since long distance sila.
That lunch was a full circle moment for me. I began to realize that this is what a healthy family should be. I began to understand what genuine love was.
Of course, nasundan pa yung lunch na yun, even dinners, ganun ako kaclose sa family nila. Still, ganun yung treatment ni tito kay tita. Tito never shied away kung gaano niya kamahal si tita. Tama pala talaga yung best friend ko. Kaya ganun na lang pala siya ka proud sa love story ng parents niya. I admired them as a couple and I admired them more as parents.
Tito, you became one of my dads especially during what I considered as my lowest moment where I thought I was going to lose my mom. I was a high schooler dealing with doctors and nurses' instructions kasi no adult was beside me. The first call I received wasn't even from my dad, it was an overseas call from you asking what assistance I need kasi you'll send someone or anything for me. All night I was stoic, pero I broke down at that hospital corridor at 3 am still in my high school uniform from that call.
So, thank you, tito! I hope you celebrate more of your birthdays pa with tita and your kids! You had sons lang and you wanted a daughter, so I'm lucky you considered me as one.
And sa best friend ko, thank you for sharing your family with me! Bruh, I won't tell this to you kasi iyakin ako pero mas iyakin ka. Thanks for being the brother from another mother.

I caught my narcissist mom in a lie and I don't know what to do.
I need help and opinions. Thanks for reading if you do!
In the last year or so, I've recovered some bad memories of my childhood and some of that was preceded and followed by other bad memories of growing up with my mom and dad, Mostly my mom, and have realized that she is a narcissist among other things.
I am also currently in nursing school and if anyone has been through a grueling education process, you'll understand that your time cannot be on what you want or what other people want it to be all the time. It is 2 full time jobs worth of studying, sometimes more, on top of 2+ jobs and other responsibilities. Due to this, our relationship is growing further strained because I am not able to do what she wants me to do when she wants me to do it. She guilt trips me for studying or even just taking care of my mental health, and consistently interrupts or even stops me from studying all together. I do not study at home anymore due to that and so she guilt trips me when I come home from work or school for not being here to help or whatever it is. The thing is, I've tried to do it all plus school and multiple jobs. I can't. I almost failed my last semester because I did everything she wanted to me to do all the time bc I figured it would be easier. Obviously it wasn't. It is a lot to type out so this not everything that happened but gives you a little bit of background.
Well there has been a couple of big fights, a lot actually. And it's mentally messed with me. Now I'm at a point where I don't let it bother me too much outwardly but can't help but let it bother me on the inside sometimes. So much so, that I've decided it's time for my sister, her son and I to get an apartment. I think my parents and I's relationship would be better if I weren't here. And I told them that.
Now all of a sudden, my mom has started with this desperate campaign to show me how much of a waste of money it would be for me to move out and pushing on me that if I'm not going to buy their house that they're either going to keep it til they die (another trigger for me) or sell it to someone in the family. Earlier today, she told me that my cousin wants to buy the house. I told her, yes that's a good idea because when we get our apartment, that they could move out and get a different house and if I wanted to buy the house later on, I could. Well, apparently, she didn't expect that reaction from me. I told her that it was a good idea and she was flabbergasted. She stopped talking about that and moved on.
A few days ago, one of the fights she started was about the fact that she had accidentally taken one of my scrubs and dried them, which I dont do. I hang dry them. It wasn't a big deal to me. I just rewashed them and had to retrain the fabric again. Not a big deal but it was made a big deal bc i had to rewash them, wasting time and money. She freaks out and when I tell her that she is literally freaking out about NOTHING, it makes her angrier bc how dare I tell her that? How dare I say that she made a mistake, no matter how small it is. This blew up into her refusing to accept a mother's day gift or even read a card until I let her belittle and scream at me that I've changed and how horrible of a daughter I am, how I'm using my studying as a crutch to not do anything (even though I do), and how much I've hurt her by not doing what she wants me to do. She also said, along with my dad, that I am a narcissist because I'm setting boundaries that I do not want to talk about anything political and have to make hard boundaries about studying... in order for me to pass my classes, mind you. Only after an hour and a half of her and my dad belittling me and telling me how I've changed for the worse and how much I've hurt her, did she open the card and say "thanks for the beautiful card." She initially refused to take my card but took my sister's, literally in my face, and took the time to read everything out loud from her card before saying she will not read mine because I don't care about her or love her. This is a tactic she does often to try to pin my sister and I against each other. This is not everything, but more for background.
Her M.O. is to push the blame onto me about absolutely everything. And I mean, EVERYTHING. Even stuff that has nothing to do with me. Well, today she tried that but I caught her in a lie instead.
I had done some of mine and my sisters clothes right before she came down and I had a pair of scrubs under a sweater on the dryer that I hadn't put away yet. When she went into the laundry room to switch her laundry over (because she also tries to gatekeep the laundry room,) she lied and told me that she had just pulled the scrubs out of the dryer and said that even I mess up because I had actually put her clothes in the dryer and I hadn't taken them out. Of course she doesn't know that I knew those scrubs were NOT in that load and were already done previously.
It blew my mind.
I know she's done this before but my mind is so lost on how many times I thought I was just crazy or maybe thought I remembered wrong. And she's done this about everything. For my entire life. But I never caught her like this before.
It spiraled me and kicked up some other memories. Not good ones.
But now, every time she talks to me, I feel disgusted and angry. I can't do anything other than laugh because if I show emotion, especially the one I want, it won't end well and I'll end up being kicked out or something. But she also has an issue with me laughing with everything she says (which I would too, but I don't know how else to react). I can't believe a damn thing she says, which I thought I didn't before, but now it's so... open, is the best descriptive word I can say. I'm not exactly sure how else to describe it.
What do I do? I'm reeling. I made an appt with my therapist on Thursday but I realized today is MONDAY. I'm not sure if I can do this til Thursday.
I am not allowing myself to dive through more memories bc who knows what else I'll uncover.
Do I tell her I know? Would it help, would it make it worse? How do I stop myself from reacting to every little thing she says. I cringe and shiver even she says she loves me. It's a big physical reaction. Same when she tries the desperate thing. I can't help but laugh. I have to because otherwise I'd scream or end up sobbing. What do I do?
Has anyone been in this situation?? I need help.
I am so sorry if this does not make sense. I work overnight and haven't slept more than 2 hrs in two days. If I didn't answer something or you have questions about something, let me know and I'll answer. I need help on how to move on from this. Thank you in advance.

Well I guess that I have to start somewhere, so why not the end! I’ve been disowned for the umpteenth time by my parents (or rather by my mum because over the years, Dad has just learned to go along with whatever she says out of duress!) This has all been as a result of my having visited them in Hay ( a 700 kilometre round trip might I add) because my Dad’s brother passed away this week and it was Mother’s Day. I thought that I’d go to show my condolences and to wish my mother and sister who also lives there a happy Mother’s Day and bring them all some hand made gifts, I’m a bit sentimental like that.
I have taken to the craft of making pebble art. The gift that I made for my mother was of an image depicting my family with my parents, my sister and I and my brother who’s passed away, as he is handing my mum a bunch of flowers. I made one for my dad depicting he and my Nan (his mother) fishing at their favourite fishing spot; my Nan passed away just last month as well and I thought it’d be a nice gesture, then I gave my sister one as well with a quote about sisters being joined by the heart.
The first day, Friday, that my husband, daughter and I came there was okay. It always is especially when I’ve not seen them for six months or more! We catch up, mum talks about her very many health conditions, she then complains a little bit about everything and everyone but it’s not over the top at this point because she and my dad are kept busy opening gifts and seemingly happy to see us! But we had decided before coming that we were going to stay in separate accommodation for the weekend with the knowledge that things with my mother usually go sour very quickly! And if we’re not having to stay at their home when it does then we can at least retain some mental stability throughout our trip! This would normally be a point in which I’d let out a bit of a chuckle or if I’m texting or writing a social media post, that I’d add the LOL at the end of that statement, simply due to the stupid realisation that unfortunately it is so very true that it’s almost comical, remembering in my mind the very many times that her very predictable unstable behaviour kicks in at around the 24 hour mark and doesn’t often dissipate until well after we’ve left if not months later! I have no clue as to why I’m still surprised by this occurrence?! Perhaps it’s because it is so unbelievably erratic and shocking to anyone that witnesses it that still even now it’s hard not only to watch unfold but to believe!
But sadly as a result of these personally flips, she lashes out in anger, she can become nasty and callous, her comments are cold and uncaring, she can become physically aggressive, and the damage done during these times can be hard to ever overcome, especially if she aims any comment or remark at you! It is during these times that you know in your soul that she has not a single care for you, not an ounce, and that the only attention or compassion shown towards you as her child or friend is one of obligation out of her need to keep up appearances with those who are still weaved in her web of “social media” deception! She wouldn’t dare lift a finger for anyone in person! But just the fact that we pre decided to obtain alternative accommodation was possibly one of the triggers I was already prepared would set her off, as we would usually choose to stay with her and dad in their spare room over crowded with belongings of the past and present, not unlike the rest of their home.
With this alone, one would see that she has an overwhelming need to retain old memories, be them bad or good. She still literally keeps every ounce of clothing I’ve ever passed on to her since well before I had children which was 27 years ago! Looking in her wardrobe, there are outfits there I remember her wearing when I was a teenager! Her bathroom still retains the $2 gifts (still in their packaging) that us kids bought for her from school Mother’s Day stalls, and the Mary Kay makeup I used to steal when I was attending high school!
Her kitchen still holds the Amway cookware she purchased for hundreds of dollars before I can remember! And to make matters worse, even some of the food in her pantry is from supermarkets no longer operating! Over the years, her hoarding has been a bit of a thorn in dad’s side, having lived a life of drifting from house to house, town to town, moving around as often as they have, having to cart it all along with them and something us kids (myself, my brother and sister) have always found funny to pick on her about, but in writing this, it is easy to see that her need to keep the past fresh in her mind and under her nose is a sickness all In itself.
Whilst we were visiting, we visited my sister in her little unit. It’s like walking back into the 70s and equally as much as a step back in time like my mother’s house! My sister has been diagnosed with schizophrenia which when first diagnosed was apparently drug induced, however; going from the lifestyle we were forced to live as the children to my parents and their lifestyle choices plus my brother and I having been diagnosed with conditions and disorders of our own, putting the puzzle pieces together as to how we’ve all accumulated mental health diagnoses isn’t that difficult taking into consideration that neither one of my parents exerted any kind of maternal instincts at all! And not even as us kids have grown and struggled through our lives, we had always been told by them that once we turned 18 we’d no longer be their “problem” anymore!
My sister’s name is Julie. She moved in with my mum and dad after one of her countless admissions to the psychiatric hospital in Bendigo, having absconded from their independent living facility which is meant to be a monitored introduction back into society after a mental health admission, but she always left before she gave the chance for them to find her accommodation that wasn’t with her abusive ex husband and 4 children.
Sitting down with her in her home, hearing all about the time she’s lived in Hay both with and near my parents, how our mum would bail her up sometimes (which had happened recently) even physically, how she’s thrown dishes at her and how she abuses her denying her food for being overweight on a daily basis… how she calls her fat and crazy… there’s literally a Myriad of abuse in all its forms being dished out to Julie, and yet, because she has nowhere else to go, like the situation my brother was in living with them on and off before he passed away (under questionable circumstances in my opinion) she has no choice but to endure it… and it saddens me to hear about it all let alone see it going on right before my eyes! Especially when the exact same denigrating comments about being useless, overweight, a waste of a life and criticism about the way she’s living her life, the choices she’s making and what she chooses to eat etc etc was also drilled into my brother by my parents and whispered to all that they spoke too for many many years before by brother lost his life.
I know through my own experience having lived with her that her poisonous mouth can lead a person to questioning your mere existence, your reason for living and remove all self esteem in a single spat with her! In 2013 I took an overdose due to a gross level of mental health issues and past trauma which I couldn’t deal with. My parents were living with us at the time and my youngest daughter exhibited some challenging behaviours… my mum found it difficult to cope with her however she made no attempt at patience or compassion and so in a fleeting moment she’s said to my daughter “if I was your mother I would’ve killed myself a long time ago!”
Wow! Just WOW! The above mentioned examples of how toxic my mother is… after only explaining to you the very tip of the iceberg in these few paragraphs, even I am second guessing writing this at all, and I’m finding it hard to fathom how I can rehash the past and get into more detail about the really bad situations! Not to mention, go into my life right from childhood until now with her and my father which is yet to come!
Writing this down, whether I share it here or not is going to be a huge journey for me that’ll take a lot of courage and open some really raw emotions… bring back old memories that I’ve suppressed and disassociated myself from… there will undoubtedly be many trigger points that I will go into which some people might become affected by, including me, but mine is a life that was, is and continues to be a challenge day in and day out… it’s something I’ve had to survive, a life and reality that I still struggle so much with but least attempt to cope with and in some way, I hope that my story will be able to shine a light on just how the importance of love, attention, affection and nurturing in our childhood really do mould the person we eventually become…

Well I guess that I have to start somewhere, so why not the end! I’ve been disowned for the umpteenth time by my parents (or rather by my mum because over the years, Dad has just learned to go along with whatever she says out of duress!) This has all been as a result of my having visited them in Hay ( a 700 kilometre round trip might I add) because my Dad’s brother passed away this week and it was Mother’s Day. I thought that I’d go to show my condolences and to wish my mother and sister who also lives there a happy Mother’s Day and bring them all some hand made gifts, I’m a bit sentimental like that.
I have taken to the craft of making pebble art. The gift that I made for my mother was of an image depicting my family with my parents, my sister and I and my brother who’s passed away, as he is handing my mum a bunch of flowers. I made one for my dad depicting he and my Nan (his mother) fishing at their favourite fishing spot; my Nan passed away just last month as well and I thought it’d be a nice gesture, then I gave my sister one as well with a quote about sisters being joined by the heart.
The first day, Friday, that my husband, daughter and I came there was okay. It always is especially when I’ve not seen them for six months or more! We catch up, mum talks about her very many health conditions, she then complains a little bit about everything and everyone but it’s not over the top at this point because she and my dad are kept busy opening gifts and seemingly happy to see us! But we had decided before coming that we were going to stay in separate accommodation for the weekend with the knowledge that things with my mother usually go sour very quickly! And if we’re not having to stay at their home when it does then we can at least retain some mental stability throughout our trip! This would normally be a point in which I’d let out a bit of a chuckle or if I’m texting or writing a social media post, that I’d add the LOL at the end of that statement, simply due to the stupid realisation that unfortunately it is so very true that it’s almost comical, remembering in my mind the very many times that her very predictable unstable behaviour kicks in at around the 24 hour mark and doesn’t often dissipate until well after we’ve left if not months later! I have no clue as to why I’m still surprised by this occurrence?! Perhaps it’s because it is so unbelievably erratic and shocking to anyone that witnesses it that still even now it’s hard not only to watch unfold but to believe!
But sadly as a result of these personally flips, she lashes out in anger, she can become nasty and callous, her comments are cold and uncaring, she can become physically aggressive, and the damage done during these times can be hard to ever overcome, especially if she aims any comment or remark at you! It is during these times that you know in your soul that she has not a single care for you, not an ounce, and that the only attention or compassion shown towards you as her child or friend is one of obligation out of her need to keep up appearances with those who are still weaved in her web of “social media” deception! She wouldn’t dare lift a finger for anyone in person! But just the fact that we pre decided to obtain alternative accommodation was possibly one of the triggers I was already prepared would set her off, as we would usually choose to stay with her and dad in their spare room over crowded with belongings of the past and present, not unlike the rest of their home.
With this alone, one would see that she has an overwhelming need to retain old memories, be them bad or good. She still literally keeps every ounce of clothing I’ve ever passed on to her since well before I had children which was 27 years ago! Looking in her wardrobe, there are outfits there I remember her wearing when I was a teenager! Her bathroom still retains the $2 gifts (still in their packaging) that us kids bought for her from school Mother’s Day stalls, and the Mary Kay makeup I used to steal when I was attending high school!
Her kitchen still holds the Amway cookware she purchased for hundreds of dollars before I can remember! And to make matters worse, even some of the food in her pantry is from supermarkets no longer operating! Over the years, her hoarding has been a bit of a thorn in dad’s side, having lived a life of drifting from house to house, town to town, moving around as often as they have, having to cart it all along with them and something us kids (myself, my brother and sister) have always found funny to pick on her about, but in writing this, it is easy to see that her need to keep the past fresh in her mind and under her nose is a sickness all In itself.
Whilst we were visiting, we visited my sister in her little unit. It’s like walking back into the 70s and equally as much as a step back in time like my mother’s house! My sister has been diagnosed with schizophrenia which when first diagnosed was apparently drug induced, however; going from the lifestyle we were forced to live as the children to my parents and their lifestyle choices plus my brother and I having been diagnosed with conditions and disorders of our own, putting the puzzle pieces together as to how we’ve all accumulated mental health diagnoses isn’t that difficult taking into consideration that neither one of my parents exerted any kind of maternal instincts at all! And not even as us kids have grown and struggled through our lives, we had always been told by them that once we turned 18 we’d no longer be their “problem” anymore!
My sister’s name is Julie. She moved in with my mum and dad after one of her countless admissions to the psychiatric hospital in Bendigo, having absconded from their independent living facility which is meant to be a monitored introduction back into society after a mental health admission, but she always left before she gave the chance for them to find her accommodation that wasn’t with her abusive ex husband and 4 children.
Sitting down with her in her home, hearing all about the time she’s lived in Hay both with and near my parents, how our mum would bail her up sometimes (which had happened recently) even physically, how she’s thrown dishes at her and how she abuses her denying her food for being overweight on a daily basis… how she calls her fat and crazy… there’s literally a Myriad of abuse in all its forms being dished out to Julie, and yet, because she has nowhere else to go, like the situation my brother was in living with them on and off before he passed away (under questionable circumstances in my opinion) she has no choice but to endure it… and it saddens me to hear about it all let alone see it going on right before my eyes! Especially when the exact same denigrating comments about being useless, overweight, a waste of a life and criticism about the way she’s living her life, the choices she’s making and what she chooses to eat etc etc was also drilled into my brother by my parents and whispered to all that they spoke too for many many years before by brother lost his life.
I know through my own experience having lived with her that her poisonous mouth can lead a person to questioning your mere existence, your reason for living and remove all self esteem in a single spat with her! In 2013 I took an overdose due to a gross level of mental health issues and past trauma which I couldn’t deal with. My parents were living with us at the time and my youngest daughter exhibited some challenging behaviours… my mum found it difficult to cope with her however she made no attempt at patience or compassion and so in a fleeting moment she’s said to my daughter “if I was your mother I would’ve killed myself a long time ago!”
Wow! Just WOW! The above mentioned examples of how toxic my mother is… after only explaining to you the very tip of the iceberg in these few paragraphs, even I am second guessing writing this at all, and I’m finding it hard to fathom how I can rehash the past and get into more detail about the really bad situations! Not to mention, go into my life right from childhood until now with her and my father which is yet to come!
Writing this down, whether I share it here or not is going to be a huge journey for me that’ll take a lot of courage and open some really raw emotions… bring back old memories that I’ve suppressed and disassociated myself from… there will undoubtedly be many trigger points that I will go into which some people might become affected by, including me, but mine is a life that was, is and continues to be a challenge day in and day out… it’s something I’ve had to survive, a life and reality that I still struggle so much with but least attempt to cope with and in some way, I hope that my story will be able to shine a light on just how the importance of love, attention, affection and nurturing in our childhood really do mould the person we eventually become…

The novel begins September 3, 2006, a Sunday. In "physical time," our reality, Andre Agassi played and lost his final match of his career. Steve Irwin, the croc hunter, would die the following day from a stingray's three barbed venomous spinal blades puncturing his heart. Senator Barak Obama was still denying he was intending to run for President (he would announce in February 2007.) The number 1 song in America and the UK is Sexyback by Justin Timberlake. Egypt warned of Palestinian terror attacks against Israelis vacationing in Sinai. Charlie Sheen turned 41. 200 Taliban are killed in a major battle in Kandahar, Afghanistan. Iraqi leaders announce the capture of the #2 leader of Al Qaeda. Europe's space agency purposely crash-lands a lunar probe into the moon.
In short, nothing, on balance seems to have happened in the world that has any particular world-historical or even US-historical import. Just a day. Even searching back 4 extra days from September 3 - since we are told that the man viewing the art installation is now on his fifth straight day in the museum - nothing all that *important* seems to have happened on any of those dates, the way saying a novel is starting on June 6, 1944, or (obviously) September 10, 2001, or July 16, 1945 or November 22, 1962 would be of course trying to tell us something.
Q: why is Delillo's purpose (is there one?) for telling us this specific date? Why is it important that the man is there on September 3, 2006 watching this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a31q2ZQcETw over and over.
Q: who is the man? Delillo himself? Just a random unnamed character? Is it definitely Finley and Elster who are the two men who come into the room? The description of the older man "long white hair braided at the nape" [p.7, Scribner] certainly seems to suggest it is Elster, described in Ch. 1 as a man "with silvery hair, as always, was braided down into a short ponytail." If it is definitely them, what does it mean they attended a museum show together? Anything?
This is not the first Delillo novel to open with a scene where a movie, and anonymous characters' responses to watching it, is central to the narrative - Players opens with a movie being shown on a plane that is basically a silent movie of a terrorist machine-gun attack on waspy golfers, only accompanied by a pianist (yes a pianist) in the airplane bar filling in the suspense with improvised show tunes - and it is not the first to open with an examination of an art installation - Underworld, after the fantastic baseball game section - opens at Klara Sax's airplane bomber art installation commune. But this opening seems to introduce two characters obliquely, and of course only if you've paid close attention to the description of Elster's hair could you think back to it being him, perhaps.
"The nature of the film permitted total concentration and also depended on it." "The less there was to see, the harder he looked, the more he saw." [p.5, Scribner]
Q:Who is this person watching and why should we care?
Q: Did the opening sequence provide you any insight other than , perhaps, confusion? Something other than "what the hell did I just read?" What? Does your reaction to the opening sequence change when you know (if you did before this post) that the Psycho installation was and is real?
Moving on to Chapter 1 [p. 17, Scribner], we learn that we are on Day 10 of a 12-day period of time that relates the initial relationship between Elster and Finley. Finley, who is probably in his early to mid-30s and 73-year-old Elster are spending time at Elster's house in the desert to record a one-take movie of Elster's testimony of what it was like to serve in an administration that went to war under less than honest circumstances.
Our narrator is Jim Finley, a documentary filmmaker who has made exactly one film about Jerry Lewis's telethon appearances - Lewis, a "rampaging comic" to whom Elster would merely be a "straight man." [p.27] Elster, who Finley also describes as "not a man who might make space for even the gentlest correction," [p.22] is a non-political theorist being brought in to an administration to provide narrative to their war. I've seen references to him being based on Paul Wolfowitz, the political scientists who became Deputy SecDef in the Bush II Administration who famously nearly swallowed his comb to wet it to comb his hair in an image that likely sealed his fate in D.C. as unserious and ridiculous who was then shuffled off to the World Bank, but would Delillo ape the man AND mention him in the narrative? If so, that seems clumsy.
Q: Do you even take Elster serious as a character or believable as a "brain" behind the narrative of an administration going to war? A man who speaks in bad koans and aphorisms like "Time becomes blind." [p.23] and who reads Louis Zukovsky into the night? (Zukovsky famously worked on an epic poem called "A" for over almost 50 years, finally finishing it a few years before his death in 1978.)
Finley tells us: "To Elster, sunset was human invention, our perceptual arrangement of light and space into elements of wonder." [p.18, Scribner]. Elster has come to the desert to seek - something - we know not what and are not told definitively - but his narrative of what his role was in Washington was to create a interpretation of the "closed world" for the "plotters, the strategists" [p. 28] and ends up delivering to Finley what I think Finley was after - the cynical idea that Elster was giving form and shape to the government's bullshit narrative - "The state has to lie. There is no lie in war or in preparation for war that can't be defended. We went beyond this. We tried to create new realities overnight, careful sets of words that resemble advertising slogans in memorability and repeatability."
Q: Is Elster ultimately right? Did the country have a "shadowy need" [p.34] for such a narrative? See, for instance: "Let's roll." [probably in reality, "Let's roll it" referring to a beverage cart to break into the cockpit.]
"Shock and awe." "Global War on Terror" "Slam dunk" "WMDs" "The Surge" And perhaps most infamously "Enhanced Interrogation Techniques"
At the ends of the chapter, we get what counts as a cliffhanger in this slim novel: Elster's adult daughter would be coming for a visit, Jessie who was "otherworldly" [p. 36].

I am NOT OOP, OOP is u/AdhesivenessMurky204
Originally posted to AITAH
AITAH for separating from my husband because he refused to get a vasectomy?
Thanks to u/queenlegolas and u/Direct-Caterpillar77 for suggesting this BoRU
Editor’s Note: added paragraph breaks for readability
Trigger Warnings: PTSD, mentions of abortion, domestic abuse, verbal abuse, sexual assault, rape
Original Post: April 28, 2024
My husband (28M, who I will call Jack) and I (27F) have been together for 4 years, we have 2 young children and I am pregnant again. I have been pregnant for what feels like most of our relationship. I got pregnant 4 months into our relationship. We got married a month before our daughter’s 1st birthday and ended up with a honeymoon baby. After our son was born, I talked to my OB and she put me on birth control and I have been taking it militantly.
My daughter is now 3 and my son is 2. A little over a month ago I discovered I am pregnant again, despite taking my birth control religiously. Abortion is banned in my state, and the pregnancy was discovered too far along to attempt to obtain one out of state. While Jack and I were nervous, we also love being parents and decided that 3 young kids would be a challenge, but 3 was a good number for us. Then we went in for the first ultrasound and got some unexpected news - it’s twins.
Things have been tough financially, and while we were stressed but excited for a third child, we were not expecting a third and fourth child. Beyond the finances, I am the primary caretaker and I know that twins is going to be a lot, three children under 5 is already a lot, but 4 children under 5 is going to be really really difficult for me. Physically, I am tired of being pregnant. I’ve been pregnant or breastfeeding the majority of our relationship. It’s exhausting, it feels awful, and I don’t recognize my body anymore.
Four children is enough. I don’t want more. I told Jack that I was done with pregnancy, I’ve been pregnant enough, I’ve been experimenting with different types of birth control for over a decade and I still can’t stop getting pregnant, abortion isn’t a valid option where we live, we need something more permanent. He agreed, and suggested an IUD, I told him no - if it did fail then it could cause an ectopic pregnancy which could kill me, especially where we live. I’ve had both control fail me multiple times already and I’m not taking the chance, so I suggested a vasectomy. He was not open to the idea, and was even upset that I suggested it and told me I should get my tubes tied. I told him a tubal ligation is a much bigger surgery and I could be recovering for weeks during which time I wouldn’t be able to work or take care of our 4 young children, but he could ice his balls for a day or two and be done with it. He told me that not getting pregnant was ultimately my responsibility, and topped it off by saying “that’s what your body your choice means, YOUR body, so YOU choose.” That’s when it went from a discussion to a full blown fight.
See, when I was 19 I had another birth control failure with my boyfriend at the time (who I will call Tom). I wanted an abortion, Tom did not because he was opposed. I told him I was getting the abortion since it was my body and my choice, and Tom said some horrible things to me, including threatening me. I broke up with him and got the abortion. In response, Tom ended up following me one night and attacking me. I don’t want to go into detail but it was horrible, and he ended up going to prison for a number of charges related to the attack. Not only do I have a number of scars and some long lasting physical effects, but I have PTSD as well.
Jack knows about my history and diagnosis, and has known from the beginning. I have a pretty prominent facial scar so I was upfront about it early on in our dating. Jack always presented himself as very pro-choice, so I was shocked that he would say that. I got really emotional and started crying and shouting, and it turned into a full-blown fight.
Eventually I said that birth control is a two-way street and so far I’ve been the only one managing it and he said “and now we have 2 kids and 2 more coming, great job.” I told him he sounded like Tom and he got super pissed, basically said how dare you compare me to him, and maybe he might want kids one day with someone who doesn’t compare him to her felon ex-boyfriend. I was stunned and horrified. I said “well then let’s not waste any fucking time,”then packed up myself and the kids and drove to my parents place.
It’s been about a week since the fight. I’ve spoken with Jack a few times and he has since apologized and said he was out of line and was speaking from a place of anxiety after finding out about the twins, but also that I said things that were out of line and it was wrong of me to insist he undergo a medical procedure. He said that can move on from the things I said and that he wants to see his children and be a family again. I told him no, that I didn’t want to “move on” from the things he said to me. I can’t just get over that and I think we need space apart. Jack was upset by this and while we talked I brought up getting a separation agreement to manage custody and finances while we figure things out. He did not like this suggestion, said we didn’t need to pull the courts into this.
I haven’t told a lot of people about what’s happening but my family and a couple close friends. My sister and best friend both think I should throw the whole man away, but my brother (who is the only other one married with kids) thinks that I’m being extreme for what sums up to a fight between two scared people who both said nasty things. My mom is trying to be supportive but is occasionally reminding me that I “don’t want to be a single mother of 4” and telling me not to let my PTSD drive my decisions, while my dad is being completely unhelpful (he thinks jokes are helpful - like calling me Doorknob because I “can’t stop getting knocked up”, telling me to let the oven cool down, real knee-slappers). I don’t know what to do. My kids are happy to be at grandma and grandpas house but they miss their daddy, I’m 4 months pregnant and already uncomfortable as hell, I wish I could go back to being a happy little family but I’m so hung up on the things he said in that fight. Am I destroying my family over one bad night? Am I being unreasonable for asking my husband to get a vasectomy?
Edit: I've noticed a lot of people recommending condoms. I have gotten pregnant with condoms twice. Our second child and my first pregnancy were both conceived using condoms properly (correct fit, put on correctly, single use, not expired, no breaks, etc). I do not trust condoms enough to not fail a third time. I know the failure rate is supposedly small, but it's not personally small enough for me. Edit to the edit: I'm sorry, I didn't expect so many comments so fast and I can't keep up with them. By the first pregnancy I mean the pregnancy with Tom. With Jack I was on the patch when I got pregnant with our daughter, condoms with our son, and the pill with the twins. So far I haven't ever suspected that Jack has tampered with our birth control and always presumed that I'm a fertile Myrtle.
I recognize the comments and just want people to know I'm seeing the suggestion. I'm not dismissing it, but the thought of it is deeply upsetting and has provoked a lot of anxiety. I just wanted to make it clear that if the suggestion is only based on the condoms, that the condom pregnancies were with two different partners. While I know I always used condoms properly with Tom, I do believe that Tom could have been fully capable of sabotaging the condoms.
AITAH has no consensus bot, OOP received mixed reactions of NTAs and YTAs
Relevant Comments
deepsleepsheepmeep: NTA. Your husband is though. Your body has already been through A LOT. A tubal ligation is a serious surgery and you are right about being out of commission for a while when recovering. If he is more concerned with an imaginary future wife than he is for you, I don’t think there is much hope for this marriage.
We have 4 close friends who all got vasectomies. None of them bitched about it like your wimp of a husband. We actually had fun vasectomy themed parties for them.
On the off chance he does end up getting a vasectomy, make sure to do the follow up appointments. One of the vasectomy fab 4 did not follow through and ended up with a post-vasectomy baby.

OOP: Thank you, I feel like this is a lot of what has been so upsetting has been that he's thinking about some imaginary future wife when I'm right here, his actual wife, the mother of his children. It's like he's already imagining a future without me.

 
Update: AITAH for separating from my husband because he refused to get a vasectomy?: May 3, 2024
I didn’t expect so many comments and literally couldn’t go through them all. It seemed like the majority of people said I was NTA but I did get a lot of YTAs telling me I was trying to force him to get a medical procedure and telling me to get one instead. Besides already addressing my reasonings why I made my request in the original post (which I want you to read with real "per my last email" energy), I in no way am *forcing* him to have a medical procedure, but I am saying that I do not want to be with a partner who is not willing to be snipped. This is an issue of compatibility. The number of children you want, the methods of birth control you’re willing to use, those are issues of compatibility and a reason relationships end all the time. If he doesn’t want to be sterilized that’s fine, but then that means that we’re not compatible anymore, since it means he wants more children and I don’t. Beyond that there were some YTA comments and some DMs that were just nasty, calling me a murderer and saying my body is a cemetery. Sadly enough, I expected those types of comments, because I know there are a lot of Toms out in the world.
First I wanted to address a couple things that kept coming up, because last post turned into thousands of comments that all said about 5 different things, so to avoid my inbox becoming another echo chamber:

You’re 100% going to have a C-section anyway so just get a tubal while giving birth.

No, I’m not 100% going to have a C-section anyway. Twins are not an automatic C-section. With my birth history there is no reason to presume that a C-section is in my future. My OB agrees, and has discussed the possibility as doctors have to do but also said that based on my past two birth experiences, I'm a "perfect candidate" for vaginal delivery.
I also am not going to mince words: tubal ligations are *less* effective than vasectomies with a *much higher* likelihood of an ectopic pregnancy. Ectopic pregnancy can *kill me*. In fact I got a PM from a woman who is a fellow fertile Myrtle who had an ectopic after a tubal. I am rejecting birth control options that, if they fail, would lead to my likely death. I don’t want to be pregnant again but I also don’t want to die and leave my children motherless, and in no way should anyone assume that traveling to another state to obtain an emergency abortion will continue to be an option in the future - we live in scary times, and Gilead is a real possibility. The comments seemed to have the vibe that people think that ligations are magically more effective than vasectomies and vasectomies are more of a whisper of sterility than an actual sterilization method so for those in the back VASECTOMIES ARE MORE EFFECTIVE THAN TUBAL LIGATIONS, FULL STOP. So I really need y’all to shut up about it.

Go to another state and obtain an abortion anyway.

I appreciate the personal offers to help I received in DMs deeply, but no. I’m in my 2nd trimester, which I know is still legal in some places, however I am at a point in my pregnancy where I personally as an individual do not feel comfortable obtaining an abortion, considering I would be *even farther* along by the time I could travel (which is not only finances, but logistics as well). I am 16 weeks pregnant now, these babies aren’t just clusters of cells to me anymore, and I’m not going to expand on that since it’s not up for debate.

Why not adoption?

With love and respect to everyone who has gone through adoption in all its aspects, adoption is absolutely not for me. This is a thought process I already went through 8 years ago, and now that I’m a mother and not a scared teenager I know it’s even less for me. I personally could not go through with it and come out the other side intact. Going through a full pregnancy, having my babies, and then being separated from them would break me.

Leave him and give him full custody of the twins

No. Because going through a full pregnancy, having my babies, and then being separated from them would break me. Jesus, some of y’all.

Just have a sexless marriage.

No. I love banging my husband, obviously lol. I don't want to be in a sexless marriage and anyone who has been to an abstinence-only high school knows that abstinence is not the way lol. There were a lot of comments assuming I would be perfectly fine withholding sex from my husband and having na dead bedroom, and I wouldn't. I have a sex drive. I'm going to want to bang my husband. Wanting to have sex with your spouse is *normal*.

What you would do about birth control if you divorced and dated in the future?

I’m not thinking of dating anyone else right now, because I’m thinking more about saving my actual marriage instead of an imaginary relationship. And if theoretically I did, I would probably seek out a partner who was snipped or was ready to be to be honestly, or a woman. I’m bisexual so there’s a very good chance that my future partner wouldn’t have the right parts to knock me up anyway lol.

Jack is sabotaging your birth control

I clarified my methods in the original post (as per my last email), but I did want to address this because it came up a LOT. I don’t have reason to believe that Jack sabotaged my birth control. A number of other fertile Myrtles showed up and brought up they or their family members repeated pregnancies in the face of birth control, including tubals. Accusing my husband of reproductive coercion for no reason other than I keep getting pregnant is a big leap and a weighty accusation. I am not the only fertile Myrtle out there, there's a reason there's a whole term for it.

Your husband is a narcissist, abuser, psychopath, and he does no childcare

My husband and I historically have a really healthy and loving relationship outside of this fight. In fact, this fight is the first time we’ve really had a fight, we’ve only ever had little arguments that we’ve been able to talk through. He’s an active father, the reason that I do the majority of childcare is due to circumstance between maternity leaves, our job schedules and the fact that I breastfed my babies. Someone also presumed I’m the breadwinner, which isn’t quite true. Jack makes more than me, but we do not have deeply significant differences in our incomes. When he is home he does his fair share of cleaning and cooking (arguably more than me at times), and parenting. That being said, the things he said in the heat of the moment were deeply concerning, and we’re addressing that together.
So to get down to the nitty gritty of the real update: since the last time I posted, Jack and I have sat down together and had a real come to Jesus talk. I’m not going to go through the whole breakdown, but it basically boiled down to this: it’s the vasectomy, but it’s more than the vasectomy. It was wrong of me to compare him to Tom but it was wronger of him to weaponize my trauma against me in a very malicious way. The way he intentionally used the same language my abuser used in an effort to hurt me was not acceptable and damaged the trust between us. He agreed it was not acceptable and said that in the aftermath he was horrified and ashamed his own words, and that he (as an explanation and not an excuse) kind of snapped under the stress. Oh and what he said about his “next wife” was not an indication of him not being committed to me but was because he felt hurt and wanted to hurt me back. He has apologized numerous times and seems to feel genuinely bad about it.
As for the separation, I am still going forward with it. I need space and time and I need to take that before the babies come. I am still staying with my parents who, for the record, are not sick of me or the kids. We’re a tight knit family, I only moved out when I moved in with Jack, and my sister moved out about a year ago so they have been empty nesting, and my mom doesn’t like that we live “too far” (an hour) away. What I have realized with space and time is how deeply triggering it was, in a way that I cannot explain to those without PTSD from DV, those who know will know. It’s deeply unsettled me and I’m having a hard time “getting over it” so to speak. There is now a lot of fear of my husband that was never there before and it’s going to take a lot to repair that trust and sense of safety. I cannot make a decision while I’m in this space, and I am addressing this with my personal therapist. Overall, I told him that if he wanted to stay married to me I needed two things from him: marriage counseling and a vasectomy, and even then I still cannot guarantee him anything. He understands, but I do not know what will happen with the vasectomy right now, we focused more on talking about the fight, but he is very aware that it's now a dealbreaker. And we have a marriage counseling appointment set up for next week. I'm hoping that counseling will bring some clarity to the situation, and in the mean time for the next couple months I'm focusing on giving my kids lots of cuddles and preparing myself for two new babies to come into my world, with or without Jack.
Additional information from OOP on her relationships

OOP: I've been through a trial to convict my ex-boyfriend of trying to kill me because of an abortion in a deep red, deeply religious area. I've definitely heard worse things, and I typically have pretty thick skin. That being said, I am pregnant and pretty emotional, so it's not the best experience. That being said, I do appreciate the level-headed comments when I see them through the sea of comments kind of saying the same stuff over and over. I'm not reading a lot of them if what I can see in the comment notification starts off nasty, so a lot of it is just inbox white noise. My favorites are the ones that start off with "I'm not going to read that BUT..." and I just think lol same. Like you don't want to read my post but expect me to read your comment that was made without even reading the situation? lol nope. And there are a lot of people conflating "providing someone with a hard choice" with "forcing someone into a medical procedure" and it just makes wading through for the actually helpful comments more tiring. Thank you though, I very much appreciate the kindness. Sorry, I've gotten so much of the same nonsense I guess I needed a little vent lol.

OOP on wanting her husband to make a decision and be on the same page

OOP: I want to be honest with him about where I am emotionally because I want him to make an informed decision. While the vasectomy is a deal breaker, it's really my secondary concern. My primary concern is the way he acted during the fight and his intention exploitation of my trauma because he was mad and scared. I think that telling him "get the snip to stay with me" and then deciding to leave anyway because there are deeper issues and/or I don't feel safe anymore would be cruel. He deserves to have the full picture before he makes a choice, doesn't he?
If he doesn't want the vasectomy, that's his choice. It's not what I want, but it is what it is. If he wants to call it quits at 4 kids, then it is what it is and if he secretly wants to be the next Nick Cannon then it is what it is he should be free to do that. That is part of why I don't know where he is on the vasectomy right now and we didn't really discuss it much when we talked, I'm focusing on discussing the bigger issue for me which is trust and safety within the relationship. The only way for him to make an informed decision about whether or not he get a vasectomy is for him to have all the information about the situation. If that makes him want a vasectomy less, then it is what it is. It's not about making him want to have a vasectomy. It's about being on the same page.

 

DO NOT COMMENT IN LINKED POSTS OR MESSAGE OOPs – BoRU Rule #7

THIS IS A REPOST SUB - I AM NOT OOP

[Just a disclaimer, I cuss a lot. I'm very angry as I'm writing this post.]
Hi, I'm back here again, hope you guys are well. I'm really not.
I'm extremely stressed, disheartened, betrayed, upset annoyed angry etc. you name it.
I got into a heated argument with my dad today. I really care about my dad and he's, generally speaking, been supportive of me whenever I take life decisions that make him and my mum happy. I understand that I have limited choices and need to make the right decisions given how we are first generation immigrants in a first world country, and only my dad financially supports our family. So having a stable job is really important, yada yada, yes I do whatever my parents pull out of their ass all the time even if I don't want to because they know best and only want me to be happy and successful.
Anyway, the marriage market for a 22F South Asian like me "sucks" at the moment according to them. Not many sons from good traditional families exist around my area. So my dad has used his classical manipulation techniques that he is old, sick (both of those things are true, gotta give him that) and he has the heavy burden of getting his daughter married into a good family. So he picked my fucking cousin back home. He is from a good family and we can trust them yada yada, our family knows them, their family knows us (DUH that's your fucking sister's family, of course you know them) and we can trust their son ( I have barely known him personally. He lives in a different country and I rarely visit back home. And the idea of marrying my cousin is fucking disgusting to me. I don't even like him and never will).
Mind you, that's the cousin my parents told me not to worry about...matter of fact I've made it very clear to them that when it's time to decide for my marriage, I only have one fucking condition and that is .... I DON'T WANNA MARRY MY FUCKING COUSINS :D (the bar is very low, I know. I don't even want to get married wtf I'm only 22 and have 0 interest in marriage or guys in general wtf)
My parents don't wanna put in the effort of finding someone else, and they hear these stories about guys in my area having kids outside of wedlock and then running away or hiding their kid or babymama. Or that guys that cannot be trusted here since substance abuse is very common here. Not many educated guys exist (load of bullshit, they do, my parents just have 0 social skills and would rather speak with someone they know). My dad has particularly used religion to justify that cousin marriage is fine. Well guess what, my religion says that if I say no, then it means no and nothing can happen. So my dad said, I only have the best interest in my mind and you should listen to me and you won't regret it. We just went back and forth with that argument and ended on a very angry note. Now we're ignoring each other and it's just fucking killing me. I don't want this to happen to me, and my dad has made up his mind and is gonna go through with it. I can only hope that fuckass cousin doesn't see this as an opportunity to leave that shitty third world country and come here. Fuckin hell what do I fucking do. How do I convince them?

I (38f) am a divorced mom of two (10f and 7m). My boyfriend (37m) is a single dad of one (2f). I'm from a happily married family, my parents have been together since 1978. My dad's mom was a widow who never remarried and my mom's parents were married 60+ years. My aunts and uncles all have happy marriages. Two of the uncles divorced, but with no kids and then went on to have happy marriages. Which is not me trying to brag about my family background but to say I am completely out of my element, I don't even know what this is supposed to look like.
My ex is living abroad. We were an international family and when he asked for the divorce I took the kids back to my home country, over a year ago. He paid child support until the divorce was finalized, and then he stopped because he's petty and knows it's hard to enforce internationally. He's looking to come to my country now to be near the kids (which pisses me off because if he has money for visa and travel he has money for child support.) It was a very bad marriage. He was abusive. So my nervous system goes haywire thinking about him being around. I do not have any documentation of the abuse though, and it was always against me not the kids, so we will have to share the kids when he comes. His involvement in the kids life right now is he video chats with them probably 4 days a week and sends presents for birthdays and Christmas.
I've got a boyfriend now and we're getting serious, he's talking about me moving in and getting married. He has a 2 year old daughter he has 50/50 custody of. My kids love him and are excited to get to know her, they love toddlers. His ex and him were engaged but never married, she says marriage isn't for her when she dumped him. We would like to have a child together in the near future, considering my age.
So basically I'm wanting to start things off right, I'm soon going to be starting in person co-parenting for the first time since the divorce is final and I'm going to start blending out families. So... Advice for what's healthy, what to prioritize, what to worry about? I'm basically open to whatever wisdom you've gleaned as stepparents, coparents or as children who grew up with divorced and/or blended families.
Thanks!

My father had a stroke in November, i was the one who drove him to the hospital , got him a social security lawyer. My siblings (6 of us) started giving them 50$ each week to help out. Yeasterday i drove an hour to give my mom some flowers for mothers day . She just said thank you in an unhappy way and asked me for the money . Took my little sister to church, and she tells me how they are going on a trip to Florida,
I went home and cried , im 8k in debt with my own bills paying them to go to Florida? Today, i told my sister about it and a minute later my mom was blowing up my phone . Started the conversation with i heard you have a problem with me and i was like hey mom , hope your doing great im doing well. I asked her how she can afford Florida when we are paying her weekly for bills ?And she went on saying that if i hate them so much i can cut me off and my little sister is trying to kill herself because of me and two of my sisters are depressed because of me . And then said im a prostitute and no wonder my boyfriend doesn’t want to marry me . Threw my teenage years against me ( i was a troubled teen who would run away to get away from them) .
She then began telling me how expensive her 13 year old daughter’s psychiatrist bills are. As if i gave birth to that child . My sister has to be on xanax at the age of 13, because she made comments at school that she knows where my dads guns are and shes going to shoot up the school./ (BTW i am blamed for this. Behavior) even tho i told my mom the signs she wasnt okay.
I told my boyfriend about it after she blocked me she blew his phone up while he was at work . 6 calls he called after work and she switched to victim mode saying she doesnt know why i hate her and basically telling him i dont know why she wont marry you , your a great guy . In a way that makes me seem like im using him. He read right through her and basically he told her that im processing trauma thats happen to me and they just need to love me through it and she went on basically saying its me who cut her off and if i dont want to be part of the family its on me not them .
Today was also my one year anniversary with my boyfriend he posted a picture of me on our date saying happy anniversary in the family group chat and no one cared to congratulate us. I honestly feel like my family hates me . The love is fake im in an internal crisis right now . My siblings fake like me . They honestly wanted me to fail in life , seeing that im doing welll doesnt sit right with them . I can tell because they never happy for me just point whats wrong with me . Its sad . My inner child is sad . I just wish my mom loved me for me not what she can benefit off me .

I need help and opinions. Thanks for reading if you do!
In the last year or so, I've recovered some bad memories of my childhood and some of that was preceded and followed by other bad memories of growing up with my mom and dad, Mostly my mom, and have realized that she is a narcissist among other things.
I am also currently in nursing school and if anyone has been through a grueling education process, you'll understand that your time cannot be on what you want or what other people want it to be all the time. It is 2 full time jobs worth of studying, sometimes more, on top of 2+ jobs and other responsibilities. Due to this, our relationship is growing further strained because I am not able to do what she wants me to do when she wants me to do it. She guilt trips me for studying or even just taking care of my mental health, and consistently interrupts or even stops me from studying all together. I do not study at home anymore due to that and so she guilt trips me when I come home from work or school for not being here to help or whatever it is. The thing is, I've tried to do it all plus school and multiple jobs. I can't. I almost failed my last semester because I did everything she wanted to me to do all the time bc I figured it would be easier. Obviously it wasn't. It is a lot to type out so this not everything that happened but gives you a little bit of background.
Well there has been a couple of big fights, a lot actually. And it's mentally messed with me. Now I'm at a point where I don't let it bother me too much outwardly but can't help but let it bother me on the inside sometimes. So much so, that I've decided it's time for my sister, her son and I to get an apartment. I think my parents and I's relationship would be better if I weren't here. And I told them that.
Now all of a sudden, my mom has started with this desperate campaign to show me how much of a waste of money it would be for me to move out and pushing on me that if I'm not going to buy their house that they're either going to keep it til they die (another trigger for me) or sell it to someone in the family. Earlier today, she told me that my cousin wants to buy the house. I told her, yes that's a good idea because when we get our apartment, that they could move out and get a different house and if I wanted to buy the house later on, I could. Well, apparently, she didn't expect that reaction from me. I told her that it was a good idea and she was flabbergasted. She stopped talking about that and moved on.
A few days ago, one of the fights she started was about the fact that she had accidentally taken one of my scrubs and dried them, which I dont do. I hang dry them. It wasn't a big deal to me. I just rewashed them and had to retrain the fabric again. Not a big deal but it was made a big deal bc i had to rewash them, wasting time and money. She freaks out and when I tell her that she is literally freaking out about NOTHING, it makes her angrier bc how dare I tell her that? How dare I say that she made a mistake, no matter how small it is. This blew up into her refusing to accept a mother's day gift or even read a card until I let her belittle and scream at me that I've changed and how horrible of a daughter I am, how I'm using my studying as a crutch to not do anything (even though I do), and how much I've hurt her by not doing what she wants me to do. She also said, along with my dad, that I am a narcissist because I'm setting boundaries that I do not want to talk about anything political and have to make hard boundaries about studying... in order for me to pass my classes, mind you. Only after an hour and a half of her and my dad belittling me and telling me how I've changed for the worse and how much I've hurt her, did she open the card and say "thanks for the beautiful card." She initially refused to take my card but took my sister's, literally in my face, and took the time to read everything out loud from her card before saying she will not read mine because I don't care about her or love her. This is a tactic she does often to try to pin my sister and I against each other. This is not everything, but more for background.
Her M.O. is to push the blame onto me about absolutely everything. And I mean, EVERYTHING. Even stuff that has nothing to do with me. Well, today she tried that but I caught her in a lie instead.
I had done some of mine and my sisters clothes right before she came down and I had a pair of scrubs under a sweater on the dryer that I hadn't put away yet. When she went into the laundry room to switch her laundry over (because she also tries to gatekeep the laundry room,) she lied and told me that she had just pulled the scrubs out of the dryer and said that even I mess up because I had actually put her clothes in the dryer and I hadn't taken them out. Of course she doesn't know that I knew those scrubs were NOT in that load and were already done previously.
It blew my mind.
I know she's done this before but my mind is so lost on how many times I thought I was just crazy or maybe thought I remembered wrong. And she's done this about everything. For my entire life. But I never caught her like this before.
It spiraled me and kicked up some other memories. Not good ones.
But now, every time she talks to me, I feel disgusted and angry. I can't do anything other than laugh because if I show emotion, especially the one I want, it won't end well and I'll end up being kicked out or something. But she also has an issue with me laughing with everything she says (which I would too, but I don't know how else to react). I can't believe a damn thing she says, which I thought I didn't before, but now it's so... open, is the best descriptive word I can say. I'm not exactly sure how else to describe it.
What do I do? I'm reeling. I made an appt with my therapist on Thursday but I realized today is MONDAY. I'm not sure if I can do this til Thursday.
I am not allowing myself to dive through more memories bc who knows what else I'll uncover.
Do I tell her I know? Would it help, would it make it worse? How do I stop myself from reacting to every little thing she says. I cringe and shiver even she says she loves me. It's a big physical reaction. Same when she tries the desperate thing. I can't help but laugh. I have to because otherwise I'd scream or end up sobbing. What do I do?
Has anyone been in this situation?? I need help.
I am so sorry if this does not make sense. I work overnight and haven't slept more than 2 hrs in two days. If I didn't answer something or you have questions about something, let me know and I'll answer. I need help on how to move on from this. Thank you in advance.

[I wrote this article about Macbeth for my college's newspaper, and I thought this subreddit might enjoy reading it!]
I have joked before that Shakespeare’s two favorite subjects–surpassing love, murder, madness, and crossdressing–are botany and birds. If you’ve been to New York City you might be aware of the “Shakespeare Garden” in Central Park, whose theoretical aim (though it proves nigh-impossible in practice) is to house specimens of all the plants which Shakespeare mentions in his plays. As it turns out, Bard quotes make for quite a diverse garden: there are roses which assuredly would smell as sweet by any other name; there are daffodils, that come before the swallow dares, and take the winds of March with beauty; there’s holly, heigh-ho; there’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance, there’s pansies, that’s for thoughts, there’s fennel for you, and columbines–no word on whether or not they could find any violets, though. I suppose there’s no objection to be made against those who complain that Shakespeare’s language is “flowery”; even as vicious a villain as Iago deigns to express his philosophy on life by way of botanical metaphor: “Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners.” And, of course, the plot of A Midsummer Night’s Dream revolves around a magical flower which makes people fall in love.
I doubt anyone will object to my claiming of birds as Shakespeare’s other poetical fixation: I suspect that the majority of falconry knowledge which most non-falconers have today comes from reading footnotes in their copies of Shakespeare plays, explaining exactly what Richard II means by “How high a pitch his resolution soars,” or why Hamlet says “Hillo, ho, ho” to Marcellus. But while plants are so common in Shakespeare that I don’t know of one play which we might say is especially densely forested with references to them, there is one play that stands out as particularly full of birds in comparison with the rest of the Shakespearean canon. That play is Macbeth.
This is the sort of thing that one only notices after having read a play so many times that the actual events of the plot become akin to the meter of a poem–beats which must be hit, and which start to feel so natural that one hardly notices them–and one’s attention drifts away from the big, important speeches and toward the more utilitarian words and odd little moments that bridge them. I am not the first to point it out, but it is, all the same, a delightful quirk of the play, and could be a good way for Sophomores to throw their classmates for a loop in seminar [Note: Students at our college study Macbeth during their Sophomore year.]: why are there so many birds in Macbeth?
KING. Dismay’d not this/Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo? SERG. Yes,/As sparrows eagles… -Act I, Scene II
LADY. …The raven himself is hoarse/That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan… -Act I, Scene V
BAN. This guest of summer,/The temple-haunting martlet, does approve/By his loved mansionry, that the heaven’s breath/Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze/Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird/Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle… -Act I, Scene VI
LADY. Hark! Peace! It was the owl that shriek’d, the fatal bellman… -Act II, Scene II
LADY. I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry. -Act II, Scene II
PORTER. …come in, tailor; here you may roast your goose… -Act II, Scene III
PORTER. ‘Faith, sir, we were carousing till the second cock… -Act II, Scene III
LENNOX. New hatch’d to the woeful time: the obscure bird/Clamour’d the livelong night… -Act II, Scene III
OLD MAN. …On Tuesday last,/A falcon, towering in her pride of place,/Was by a mousing owl hawk’d at and kill’d. -Act II, Scene IV
MACBETH. …Light thickens; and the crow/Makes wing to the rooky wood… -Act III, Scene II
MACBETH. If charnel-houses and our graves must send/Those that we bury back, our monuments/Shall be the maws of kites. -Act III, Scene IV
MACBETH. Augurs and understood relations have/By magot pies and choughs and rooks brought forth/The secret’st man of blood. -Act III, Scene IV
LADY MACDUFF. …the poor wren,/the most diminutive of birds, will fight,/Her young ones in her nest, against the owl. -Act IV, Scene II
LADY MACDUFF. How will you live? SON. As birds do, mother. LADY MACDUFF. What, with worms and flies? SON. With what I get, I mean; and so do they. LADY MACDUFF. Poor bird! Thou’ldst never fear the net nor lime,/The pitfall nor the gin? SON. Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for. -Act IV, Scene II
FIRST MURDERER. What, you egg! -Act IV, Scene II
MACDUFF. …there cannot be/That vulture in you… -Act IV, Scene III
MACDUFF. …O hell-kite! All?/What, all my pretty chickens and their dam/At one fell swoop? -Act IV, Scene III
MACBETH. The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon!/Where got’st thou that goose look? SERVANT. There is ten thousand– MACBETH. Geese, villain? -Act V, Scene III
Above I have listed every ornithological reference that I’ve found in the Scottish Play; as we peruse them, we certainly cannot conclude that every individual reference is of the same kind, or carries the same import. I will not pretend, for example, that, just because geese and ravens are both birds, the Porter’s invitation for the imagined English tailor to cook his goose in Hell merits as much attention as Lady Macbeth’s ominous declaration that “the raven himself is hoarse”. Nor do I think that any individual reference particularly demands explication; by itself, any one of these bird-invocations seems perfectly natural. Shakespeare’s talent is such that he can repeat a motif in such a way that on the macro level it is obvious yet on the micro level it hardly feels present. But that macro level is what interests me here: what impression is created, on the whole, by the presence of so many birds in this play? I have a theory, which, though it may seem far-fetched, I think merits at least some consideration, and which, at the very least, I have not seen stated elsewhere, and so may make a novel contribution to the conversation.
Macbeth is both Shakespeare’s most supernatural tragedy and his most Sophoclean; these two superlatives are inextricably related. The appellative Weird given to the opening scene’s three Sisters–derived from the Old English wyrd, meaning destiny, and famously given its more familiar connotation by Shakespeare himself in this very play–is, among the Bard’s works, unique to Macbeth; and just as that word appears nowhere else in Shakespeare, so is the concept it represents absent in all tragedies but this one. Though Hamlet may cry out against outrageous fortune, and though Othello may rhetoricize about how no man can control his fate, it is only in Macbeth that we truly feel that the events we see play out before us are fated, predestined, inevitable. [See Note 1.] The ghost in Hamlet commands his son to revenge his foul and most unnatural murder, but does not tell him it is certain that he will succeed; indeed, would not the drama be sapped of its intrigue if that level of certainty were present? Meanwhile, the supernatural interlopers in Macbeth offer the Scottish thane not a mission, but a prophecy: All hail, Macbeth! that shalt be king hereafter! From its mystical opening word–When, not If–the Scottish play makes us aware of the certainty of all that is to befall our tragic antihero. Macbeth is thus a different sort of tragedy than Shakespeare’s others, and it works by an inverted mechanism. While the tragedy of, for example, Desdemona’s death is that it may have been prevented, the tragedy of Macbeth’s destruction is that it represents the fulfilment of fate; and this is the very same mechanism by which Oedipus Rex operates, complete with its own “Weird” character in the form of the seer Tiresias. Though Calvin managed to accept that some men are destined for greatness and others for ruin, this idea is, to Shakespeare and Sophocles, nothing short of agonizing–the stuff of tragedy.
Now: what does all of this have to do with birds? Consider these words from Antigone, spoken by Tiresias to Creon:
You shall learn, when you hear the indications of my art! As I took my place on my ancient seat for observing birds, where I can mark every bird of omen I heard a strange sound among them, since they were screeching with dire, incoherent frenzy and I knew that they were tearing each other with bloody claws, for there was a whirring of wings that made it clear… (Lloyd-Jones translation)
Consider next these words from Oedipus Tyrannus, spoken defensively by Oedipus to Tiresias:
Why, come, tell me, how can you be a true prophet? Why when the versifying hound was here did not you speak some word that could release the citizens? Indeed, her riddle was not one for the first comer to explain! It required prophetic skill, and you were exposed as having no knowledge from the birds or from the gods. No, it was I that came, Oedipus who knew nothing, and put a stop to her; I hit the mark by native wit, not by what I learned from birds. (Lloyd-Jones translation)
The practice of divining the future from birds–be it from their behaviors, their cries, or their innards–was, to Sophocles and his contemporaries, not superstitious hokum, but a practical science at which one could be skilled or unskilled, and it bodes ill for Oedipus that he is so quick to disregard it in favor of his own native wit. [See Note 2] By Shakespeare’s day, the practice had long been relegated to the realm of outdated hocus-pocus, but the Bard still saw some truth in it; in Macbeth, there is a recurring sense that, when the world is sick with some great wrong, its first symptoms manifest in the behavior of birds. When the “fatal bellman” the owl shrieks in the night, Lady Macbeth takes it as a sign that her husband is about his bloody business. The day after the murder of Duncan, as Ross converses with an Old Man about the strange things they’ve seen the previous night, “unnatural/Even as the deed that’s done”, the killing of a falcon by a mousing-owl–an omen straight out of Sophocles–is mentioned before the madness and cannibalism of Duncan’s horses, even though the latter would surely be more immediately noticeable and ghastly than the former.
These are the most obvious examples of birds as ill omens in Macbeth; yet even the more innocuous invocations of birds throughout the rest of the play continually turn our thoughts back to the ancient Greek understanding of fate and prophecy, and thereby remind us that, however savagely he may fight at Dunsinane, Macbeth’s fate is as fixed as that of Oedipus. The birds have already foretold all.
Note 1: The closest thing there is to this kind of fatalness in another Shakespearean tragedy is the several superstitious occurrences in Julius Caesar–both the soothsayer’s message of “Beware the ides of March” and the bestial portents such as the lack of a heart in an offering and the whelping of a lioness in the streets. Still, I will insist that these omens do not convey a sense of fatedness to the audience as strongly as the Weird Sisters in Macbeth by virtue of their being told to Caesar himself, not to Brutus, the play’s true protagonist, and by the fact that Shakespeare elsewhere uses dialogue to throw some doubt upon the idea of predestination: "Men at some times are masters of their fates:/The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,/But in ourselves, that we are underlings." -I.ii
Note 2: The Liddell-Scott Greek Lexicon identifies at least two separate verbs referring to bird-based divination, both of which are present in the quoted passages: Tiresias uses ορνϊθοσκοπέομαι, observe birds, interpret their flight and cries, while Oedipus uses οιωνίζομαι, take omens from the flight and cries of birds. The latter term comes from οιωνος, a large bird, bird of prey, such as a vulture or eagle, and so distinguished from a common bird, while the former comes from ορνις, which more generally refers to a bird, including birds of prey and domestic fowls. Birds of both kinds are present in Macbeth; there are οιωναι, such as the “falcon, towering in her pride of place”, as well as ορνες, like the Porter’s goose and cock. I therefore see little value in interrogating the kinds of birds invoked by Shakespeare, the specific cultural associations and significance of the owl, the raven, or the wren; rather, if we reduce them down to their barest existence as birds, animals of the class Aves, and consider them in an ancient Greek light, then things become a bit clearer.

I've peeked around but couldn't find a post like this. so: Soon it'll be a year since I've came out. I told my mom first, who told my dad. And who apparently told some other family members lol..The only one I've talked to extensively about it is my mom though.
My mom and sisters refer to me by my preferred pronouns and name (He/they). My mom isn't consistent and may slip on conversations with others but I can tell she's trying. My dad..It doesn't feel like he's trying at all. Or if he even remebers. My name happens to be what my nickname was before so that's fine, but I'm still always "she" and his "daughter". Being my dad and all I'm too nervous to correct him as idk if he'd take it well.
Anyone else in my family (even those my mom apparently told) Still call me "she" and my legal name. My mom doesn't correct them..And neither do I. Because I have no idea what exactly she told them and coming out again during a family event with 20+ people around is my worst nightmare.
My mom didn't fight me about it at all when I came out but she can be weird about some things..? Recently when going through some pictures from a few years back she points to one and goes "See? You used to wear little skirts 😆", Or when I was confused about what to wear to an event she goes "What about a cute pink frilly dress 😏" I don't feel she's genuinely suggesting anything but it still makes me feel a bit uncomfortable.
I've also been open about wanting to start T (but can't atm do to financials) but she's a bit weird about that too and I have to change the topic everytime.. Sometimes she'll just randomly ask "So..What do you think the hormones or whatever are going to do?" To which I list the effects and she latches onto one thing that could be "solved" without T.
Once again I don't want to think she feels this way..But sometimes I feel like she views me as her "confused butch daughter", as even when I came out as Bi when I was a teen she had trouble understanding I like multiple genders. Not knowing what she told everyone else exactly makes me nervous they feel that way too. My mom said they just said "Happy child happy life" and that she was glad she "didn't have to fight anyone" but idk..I'm just really worried the day my transness becomes "unavoidable" or I speak up more things will get really tense. Maybe it's just my anxiety.
My apologies for the long post. Just don't have anywhere else to get this off my chest.

As a connoisseur of myths and legends, I feel like it would have been cool to see these plots in a movie, pardon my writing, it's just for fun. 1. Robecca Steam centered movie. The ghouls are her go to her hometown in Bloodon, which still is rooted in deep rules and traditions, soeveryone gets victorian outfits. They get a message from rochelle's boyfriend from France, where he mentions a transcript he found in catacombs reading " Hexaciah's Golden Owl". This is based on Frances real 25 year old hidden owl quest, full of clues that are almost unsolvable. Perhaps this owl leads the ghouls to her father, who is trapped in a painting by his rival, Leonardo De Vice( changed name). They must solve the puzzles to set him free before its too late.
2.Ireland placed movie. Everyone joins lagoonas cousin in the magical land of Ireland. Lagoa discoves her cousin may lose her loch, unless her family's ownership is proven in time.Deuce learns that his father has been there, even though he was thought lost for many years. They find out an evil enchantress Patty Trick, has cast out all the Gorgon's from Ireland into the sea( based loosely on st. Patrick) She wears a magical amulet with the ghoul of the lake trapped inside. The only way to save him is to go to Tir na Nog and retrieve a magical sword ( who used to be a manster called Avalon.) Everyone would have medival fashion. Claween discovers her Irish counterparts, and struggles to see them as a real werewolves because they look like normies. Of course, happy ending, Deuce gets his Dad back,who is now a sea serpent gorgon. He proves the lochs belongs to lagoona cousin.

1. Cupid centered movie. She gets a message she must return home and never to return to monster high. The ghouls come along to protest, wearing Greece Era attire. They discover the world of olympus and Cupids evil grandmother Venus. Cupid explains that her grandma always wanted her cousin, daughter of Eris, goddess of chaos, to have been gifted the bows. Cupid's real name is Bliss, but those who carries the arrows carry the namesake.There is a fight, and her cousin breaks her arrows. Now to save all forms of love( friendship, family, couples). Cupid must take on the same journey as her mother, Psyche, to reform her bows. Of course her cousin is determined to stop her. They meet Manny's Dad, who holds all the records of magical objects. They must perseve to get golden fleece, sort seeds of ghoul eating plants, a crystal with water, and the infamous piece of Persephone's shadows beauty.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk, I apologize if this was too lengthy of a post😅😅

I hate myself. I hate everything about myself. I hate how i draw, i hate my body, i hate my face, i hate how awkward i look like while doing stuff. I hate looking into mirrors or looking at pics and vids of myself, it just reminds me that I'm a fat and ugly loser with wasted potential. If reincarnation was real, i really do hope i become a person worthy to be proud of. Everytime i start feeling good about life my appearance ruins everything. Whenever i see my friends complain how "ugly" they are, it infuriates me. They're skinny, they're pretty, and people like them without even needing to know them. It infuriates me that whenever i try to be pretty i always end up looking like a pig with lipstick on. I've only existed on this planet for 16 years and i already want to end it all, all for such a stupid reason... I've been clean of sh for 2 years till now. I suck. I wish i would die in a freak accident so i don't have to feel the guilt of leaving my family behind before i kill myself. They don't deserve a daughter, a niece, a cousin, and a sister like me. I was better off not existing to begin with. I don't want to imagine my mom at my funeral, nor how my dad would feel coming back home from overseas working hard for my family just to be given the news that i had died, neither do i want my little brothers to lose their sister, the youngest is only 4 years old, to him I'll just become a distant memory. Writing this has made me realise just how much of a burden i am to my family. They deserve more than me. I'm grateful for everything they've given. I just wish inwas grateful enough to cherish my life.

ive been really stressed out with school lateley as the deadline for grades is in a couple days. I clean my room once a week, but it just gets messy fast. I was working on an art project all day afterschool and didnt clean like my mom asked me to, and she said "and you did nothing." I havent sh in months, but i just felt so numb after that moment and thats all i wanted to do. I wrote in my notes after and i need to share it with someone.
The words "you did nothing" really fucking hurt, mom. Its kind of crazy that i can go from wanting to tell you everything in my life to wishing i never told you any of my secrets at all. I knew i shouldnt have fucking trusted you, and i will never be able to feel like rory and lorelai gilmore with you. I will treat my daughters so much better than you will, and they will never hear those words come out of my mouth, ever. Like i get that youre fucking upset, but its the last week of worktime in school, and my grades are slipping and anything under a 90 is dissapointing to you. Be fucking glad im prioritizing my work not cleaning, because if it was the opposite id be failing all my classes. Why cant you just be fucking proud of me that i got so much work done? Ive been skipping art to help my thester teacher with her other classes preformances, and im still working my butt off on those stupid linoleum prints. I got 6 assignments done in math today, i finished a major history project, i did super good on all my benchmark tests, why is it so fucking hard to acknowledge the work im putting in just to make you proud? Its so fucking frustrating because you get mad at me when i have missing work, but them expect me to do all these other things for you. I hate that my room is clean too, i get that you put in work for me, but dad has school and work, i have school full-time, and homework outside of that, and i have a social life. You work from home and maybe work 5 hours a day, and cook dinner. I do the dishes, clean my room Atleast once a week, i fold towels, the least you could fucking do is not get all fucking pissy when i forget to do the dishes. I get that you struggle too, but your life isnt all that fucking hard, and neither is mine. So shut the fuck up and just let me be a fucking teenager while i can. My life is together, im happy, i have the best boyfriend in the world, im surrounded by good people, my mental health is finally getting better, dont ruin it all over again because my room is dirty.

About a week ago my mother (75 years old) called me up and asked if I would go to The Rolling Stones concert in Vegas with her. She had bought two tickets, her and my father and she told me she wanted to attend but that my dad wasn’t feeling very well. He is on oxygen when he is at home. He has COPD, a lung disease, and cannot get around much. Since it was a chance to hang with my mom a day before Mother’s Day and see the Stones I said heck yeah!!
I had already mentioned to my wife that on Mother’s Day when I return, we should grill some steak and scallops and lounge out a bit… play it by ear. My wife mentioned that grilling probably wasn’t a great idea and that the oldest of our two kids, our daughter, would be heading to Europe about an hour after we return home from Vegas the day after the concert (Sunday the 12th).
Our youngest (18 years old son) accompanied me to Vegas to stay at the relatives while my mother and I went to the Stones concert.
The next morning, Mothers Day, I woke up at my parents house, texted my wife Happy Mothers Day before even jumping out of the covers. We had a family church obligation to attend to until about noon before traveling back home to see my daughter off to the airport to Europe.
Here is where the drama begins. With all the hubbub of the concert the night before, the relatives and grandma being around, my son doesn’t text or call my wife (his mom) HMD that morning. I didn’t get a text back immediately from my wife when I texted her at about 8 am, HMD… I figured I’d let her sleep in if that’s what she wanted to do. My son and I do our church thing, my wife finally responds to my text saying that they are packing and repacking for my daughters Europe trip and that they want the packing job to be right. When we finally get home late in the afternoon, I give her the present that I bought my wife (her favorite perfume that she is nearly out of) and my son gives her his present… (a note and a Pink Yeti mug I had actually bought my wife a week ago that I hadn’t given her yet, just in case one of the kids hadn’t gotten her a gift for Mother’s Day).
Side note… My wife is very big on gifts. She is a great gift giver and anticipates good gift receiving.
When I walked in home from traveling I could also smell that she was cooking something, and there was a salad on the table. I figured she planned something she wanted to have for dinner, since I had been with my own mother since the day before and she, my wife had been with our daughter having a fun girls time, watching movies, getting a mani/pedi, having pho… THIS WAS NOT THE CASE. I got the evil eye right away. She started talking snarky to me, saying snide remarks which in turn, much to my chagrin I returned the remarks. It’s been tit for tat for the last 24 hours. She said her Mother’s Day was ruined and that it was my fault. That I should have planned the day for her. The blame is all in my court.
Ugh… I feel like every birthday, anniversary, Mother’s Day, Valentine’s Day, Christmas… whatever day that retail America says I’m obligated to spend money to buy gifts… I’m not doing a good enough job. My wife buys our kids presents for Easter for hells sake. It’s too much. I don’t want anymore of it. Keep all the stupid gifts. It’s just the act of buying a thing and giving it. Its ridiculous.
Also… Am I supposed to be doting all over my wife on Mother’s Day with palm leaves and figs? If I am, I am. I just don’t see husbands doing all the work. I see kids…. Kids rubbing their moms back and making coupons for dishwashing and various chores. Kids taking care of moms and telling them what a great job they do raising them. In the arguments up to now, she is treating me like I am responsible for her Mother’s Day happiness and pointing at me saying she didn’t get what she wanted and that she didn’t have a good time. I can see how the husbands job is to orchestrate what the kids do for the moms but if I am wrong, I am wrong.
She is a great mom and I tell her that constantly. She knows I know that. I value her. My wife and I have a great relationship 99% of the time but this silly.

So basically I (23f) had a big blowout with my Narc Father, and have decided to move out. You spend your whole life waiting for them to become the person you need them to be, and they just don't.
Honestly in the grand scheme of things it was such classic and expected behaviour on his part, yet he seems to think it was a one off that I am choosing to remain bitter over. I haven't been capitulating to his apologies (which he clearly doesn't even know what hes apologising for), and they really only came after I maintained that I would be moving out and keeping contact to a minimum with him. I've given up on caring about him getting better or whatever, it serves me in no way whatsoever.
Now he's rotating through his different methods of gaining control back in the relationship. It started with remaining angry and gaslighting, then it became sadly skulking around and complaining to everyone in his life about what an ungrateful daughter I am, then it became performative apologies and maybe 2 entire AA sessions. He said to me that we need to talk, and that I need to let him know what my boundaries are, yet he knows what they are and clearly has no interest in changing. He knows we can't stand how he uses everyone else to regulate his emotions and that we are DESPERATE for him to go to therapy, but he just won't. Him asking me what my boundaries are I know is just another way to try and get me to engage with him, because he genuinely doesn't see anything wrong with his behaviour. He went to 2 AA sessions just to look as though he was making an effort, and even then he was (surprisingly) not drunk during his last blowout, he refuses to acknowledge that his behaviour is GENERALLY unacceptable.
However, he is my dad and I love him. He is buying things, paying for things, the only thing he ever does to try and make things better, and it sucks because I know it's just to hold something over my head. For my mother's sake, I've made an effort to be polite and civil with him, however I think he saw this as me forgiving him and everything going back to 'normal'. I now feel like a bitch because he's doing all these things trying to get my attention or to talk to me and I just can't stand it. It would honestly be easier if he just stayed awful constantly. The guilt sucks, and it sucks because I KNOW by accepting these gifts that the power dynamic has shifted back to him (he paid for a nice lunch for me and my mother for mothers day), even though they are 'gifts' you cannot reject.
You just can't win, I feel bad but I don't know how to move forward from here, I feel as though I let myself down by 'capitulating' or accepting these gifts or whatever, and now he think things are okay when really they aren't. I just don't know what to do in a situation where you truly can't win.
I get so sad for him, and then I remember all the things he has done and said and I am filled with rage, it's just the most confusing and jarring situation, especially when you've be raised believing that you are responsible for your parent's emotions.
Sorry for the poor grammar, just a bit of a vent/plea for advice.

TW: Death
I'm just writing this to get it off my chest and rant. I've mostly healed from it, and have been working through this in therapy. I still have a hard time journaling so I figured this would be a safer place. I'll be showing this post to my therapist so maybe we can delve deeper into it.
I have been NC with my nmom for three years, and was LC for a year before that. None of my siblings are full contact, two are LC and one is NC. Anyway, the one thing that I wanted to share here is the time my dad died. I was extremely close to my dad, it's why I called him my dad even though he wasn't related to me by blood or marriage. He was actually my godfather. To make this story short, I found out that he died three weeks later when his neighbor sent me his obituary after I was wildly confused why this neighbor was apologizing for my loss.
This isn't the first time this has happened, I wasn't notified of my grandmothers passing and had several pets that died while I was at school or on the court ordered visitations I had with my bio-father. The time with my grandmother, her house had bio-cleanup crews and her neighbor called me, to go check on her because nobody else in the family ever checked on her.
My dad hit the hardest though, not from a mourning perspective but from a "What the actual fuck" perspective. I already knew that his time was coming to an end and had prematurely mourned him, this was seen as horrific to my nmom. My journals were read and I was grounded for texting his phone for the last time, due to that premature mourning that I had happening. I was 14 when his health declined and he was paralyzed, they put him in a care facility and nobody ever saw him. I did once, you could tell that he wasn't coming back.
I was 19 and moved out when he officially passed and his neighbor sent me the obituary. "but the title "Dad" was his favorite. He lived for his daughter, (My name). She was his bliss, his pride and joy." That's what got me, my dad gave me the name that was written in the obituary. He wasn't able to have kids of his own. At the end, they had an address for his celebration of life, and the neighbor offered to come with me. The neighbor is my mom and worthy of that title, she let me stay with her when my nmom kicked me out and my dad was hospitalized.
We went, her daughter also came with. My nmom was there and our conversion went just as smooth as you would expect,
Nmom "How did you find out?"
Me "(neighbors name)"
Nmom "Did you like that I mentioned you?"
Wtf am I supposed to like that the only person who kept me sane while living with nmom died?! This isn't a popularity contest. Who cares that I was mentioned. I started crying, and squeaked out that she could've at least told me. We left soon after the neighbor got done yelling at her. It's astonishing that she could put me in the obituary but not message me, or my other siblings to tell me. She knew how much I loved that man, he was the one present for everything in my life. He took me swimming every week, he taught me to ride a bike, he would pick me up from school, he wrote "I love you (name)" with a giant heart around it for me in the snow so I could see it while recovering from a brain surgery in the hospital. He made me who I am, and the countless times I heard "you love him more than me" from her proves that she knew.
Or the time she pulled my pants down just to shove snow in them and pull them back up, and her response to me crying was that i'd be laughing if my dad did it. No I wouldn't, i'd be even more hurt because I'd trust him to not do that to a 10 year old child. She knew, and used it to her full advantage. Part of me thinks that she was jealous that her previous relationship with him didn't work out and so they just stayed friends.

Hi Guys,
I've seen so many TikTok videos of people time capsules over their life spans. For example, a guy taking a photo of himself every day until he got married, a dad taking pictures of his daughter from birth to age 18, or parents making videos to their future children. Others have documented lifelong projects, too.
What is something cool I should do that I can look back on? Something original and creative that isn't a huge pain in the ass?
I do have a bucket list from when I was younger, and I check off my goals every New Year. I also made a promise to myself to travel to one new country every year starting in my 20s, based on people's advice.
Anything else that’s cool and creative? I would love for it to be something memorable that reflects me and my growth over the next 10 to 20 years, until I hit 30 or 40.
Any ideas would be great.

It is a man, old and scraggy. He wears a jacket that lays over the red plaid button shirt and blue jeans. He wears an old baseball cap and a pair of glasses. He yelled something to Dad, holding his hands up like he was pleading, although we couldn’t hear it over the truck engine. They talked, but we couldn’t hear what they were saying.
“Hey, what are they saying”, I asked, while petting Matt’s hair, calming him. The old man then put his hands down and came close to Dad in a cautious way. They seem to start having some kind of conversation.
“I don’t really know, hopefully, something good”, Mom answered. They talked for a little while, with daylight beginning to disappear, giving us a sense of dread, and making me more worried about what weird creature was going to show up. Eventually, the old man turned and pointed toward what I think is the northeast. They then shook hands and walked back to their respective vehicles. “What’s going on”, Mom asked as Dad got into the truck.
“Well, our new friend here invited us to dinner at his farm”, Dad replied.
“Does he have supplies?”
“Well, he says has supplies for us to make the journey.”
“Should we even trust him? We just met h-”
“Relax, he’s just an old man, living alone at his farm, feeding his cows. What could go wrong”, Dad countered. The old man then entered the truck that was running and drove slowly, expecting us to follow him.
“Alrighty then, but we have to be cautious”, Mom said, with her suspicions of the old man. We then followed the old truck along the dark, frozen road. It just feels like something is going to show up along the road, but nothing happened. Matt did eventually stop crying, but he is still upset about the Joe escape thing.
“Where are we going”, Matt lamented, with the prior series of events in mind.
“I guess somebody is offering us dinner”, I answered.
“Why can’t we just go home?”
“It’s only going to be a stop, like a hotel. After that, we go to our new home, I guess”, I said, taking another look at Matt and cradling to comfort him. “It’s going to be okay.” I stared out into the darkness. I looked to the sky from the window and I faintly saw something in the clear, dark sky, lit up by the waning moon. They were brilliant, green auroras that defy the bright moon, dancing across the sky like ribbons in the wind. The truck eventually took a right-hand turn into another road, with us following suit. I can see a bright, orange light emerging from a patch of tree. When we passed by, it seemed it was a house, at a farm, burning in a massive flame.
“I guess those people aren’t so, uh, lucky”, Dad said, taking a quick look at it before looking at the road. Passing by, we went on and continued to follow the old man’s truck. We passed onto another intersection until he turned into a driveway to what I believe to be his farm. Going into the driveway, I can see an old house, along with a dilapidated farm further away, barely visible by the headlights. The old man parked by the house, where there were a few other trucks there. We parked alongside the truck and we got out into the cold, near-silent night.
“Welcome to sanctuary, where all are welcome”, the old man bellowed. This is the first time I’ve heard his voice. Matt was the last to get out of the truck, slowly and clumsily climbing out of the truck.
“What’s your name”, my Mom politely asked the old man.
“Oh, I guess your husband didn’t tell ya. My name is Steven, but you can call me Steve”, the old man said, with some crackling in his voice. “I am very proud to host a dinner for you and your family”, he continued. “What’s your name, ma’am?”
“Oh, my name is Janice”, Mom replied, quite pleased at his politeness.
“Hello, Janice, and what are their names”, Steven asked, pointing to me and Matt.
“That’s my daughter Kate and my son Matt”, Dad said to Mom.
“Oh, what wonderful names for a couple of beautiful children you have”, Steve grinned. “Come, it is dangerous out here.” We followed him to the house, which looked like it had seen better days. He entered through the double-set door, the first a solid door and a screen door behind. Entering the house, it smelled like what you’d expect, old man. Looking onto the floor is made of glossy wood and walls with cracks, likely caused by the earthquake. It is dark in there, lit by candlelight from many candles, yet it’s fairly warm here. I don’t know why we went into the house, but Dad was right, Steve is just a lonely, old man. Matter of fact, there seems to be nothing wrong here, other than the cracks in the walls. “Sorry, the power went out. Had to resort to the candles. I knew my wife would come in handy”, Steve explained as he took his coat off. “Oh, supper will be ready right away. Had to use the fireplace to cook. Also, can you take your boots off?” We took our boots and set them aside. We went into what seemed to be a living room, with dusty old-style furniture.
“So, where do we sit”, Mom asked.
“Oh, well, follow me”, Steve commanded, leading us to the dining room, with a long, wooden table and six wooden chairs, along with their corresponding old-fashioned plates, glasses and cutlery, lit up in the candlelight. We noticed that everything on the table was covered in a thin veil of dust. “My apologies, the recent shocks dropped a bit of dust on the table”, he explained as he noticed us looking at the plates and moved into another room nearby. “Take your seats if you like.” We all settled onto the chairs, and blew off our plates of the dust settled there.
“When will we eat”, Matt impatiently said.
“Once Steve comes out with the food”, Mom answered. Matt sat there with a tired look on his face. Dad seemed to be in a better mood than before and it looked like he wanted to start a conversation.
“Hey, should we talk about something”, Dad asked. I then see Steve with a bowl and a silver plate.
“Here we go, may not be much, but at least it’ll fulfil the soul”, Steve said, smiling when he served us mashed potatoes and meatloaf. “So, shall we pray?” That came unexpectedly, as we are not too religious, but we were in his house and gave us shelter and food.
“Sure, we can do that”, Mom said and we all bowed our heads and put our hands together. Steve cleared his throat
“Thank you, Lord, for this good food to feed the soul in these hard times. I shall pray, in the name of the Lord and Jesus Christ, that these hard times shall be over, so we can get on with our lives. Amen.” We raised our heads and grabbed whatever food there was onto our plates. “Oh, there’s no gravy, so we have to deal with bare potaters and meatloaf.”
“Oh, not to worry. Thank you for the food”, Dad thanked Steve. We began to eat the food once we got it sorted.
“So, what brings you here”, Steve asked.
“Well, there is an evacuation order in effect for this area, so we had to go to Regina”, Dad explained, with Steve taking in every word. “So, we came from Strasbourg, we tried going south towards Regina, but we hit an obstacle in the way and we had to take another route, leading us here.”
“And we encountered a few odd things along the way”, Mom added.
“Huh, interesting. What do you guys think is going on”, Steve inquired.
“By the things we saw, we have no idea. Dinosaurs, devil dogs, hell pigs, the whole deal. I shouldn’t forget the earthquake. They told us a pipeline leak caused by the earthquake”, Dad clarified to Steve.
“Hmm… is that so”, Steve wondered. “Wonder what I think is happening? The Rapture is happening. Do you know how the Bible tells us of the end times? Good people sent to be with God and his kingdom, the rest here to suffer the Hell unleashed by Satan.” By this point, he was beginning to rant, but we couldn't stop it as we all began to feel tired and powerless. “So, the Devil will send his demons in the form of these illusions so that they can torment the sinners. It is happening, it is-” Steve manically continued as I drew towards blackness and his voice becoming less coherent. My vision is now all black.
I saw those same lights, but more rapidly than before. I then emerged onto the same clear sky, but something felt different. I can smell something in the air. I can smell what seems to be chemicals in the air. Looking down, I was terrified. Dark, grey rock in the shape of ropes and folds, similar to those I saw of lava flows on a volcano in pictures. This went on as far as the eye could see. I can see no tree this time, just the cooled lava everywhere. I then walked, feeling every bump and crag. I thought I walked forever until I heard a rumbling sound and woke up.
I am in total darkness. It is cold and it smells like cow manure. I tried to move my hand, but it seemed to be bonded behind my back by a rope. I tried to move my feet, but they were also bound by rope to the legs I tried to speak, only to realise my mouth was agape by a cloth in my mouth. I heard shuffling nearby but I could not see. It was then shone in light when Steve entered the door, holding a candle, revealing all of us in the same situation. I then can see what we are in. We are in that same wooden dilapidated barn we saw earlier and seems to be more damaged than the house, wood creaking can be heard.
“These sedatives are more effective than I thought. Maybe I should use them more often”, Steve smoothly explained, like he’s some kind of agent and began pacing. “Wonder why you are here? Well, I wondered the same thing to myself, why didn’t God take me to his heaven? When I first heard of the government telling us of those evacuation plans, I thought it was that, a leaking pipe. I began to notice things I couldn’t believe myself, at least at first. Earthquakes, weird creatures showing up, people disappearing, the whole spiel. I connected the dots. The Rapture is happening, for sure, but why me? Why was I the one left here on this Earth”, Steve calmly ranted, pacing around the barn, but it seemed to sound crazier and angrier the more he paced. “I thought I had lost my way. I’ve been unfaithful to God and his son. But, I realised that God always has a plan and he left me on this Earth to serve a purpose. I wondered what my purpose was until I had a moment.” He then stopped in place and calmed down. He turned to look at Mom with accusing yet crazed eyes.
“I’m supposed to keep the sinners here in line, to earn a place in God’s kingdom, or suffer in Hell. I know you are a sweet woman, Janice, but your treachery with Satan is over and I am going to do what’s right.” Mom then looked at all of us, with assuring eyes like that of an innocent yet caring mother we all know knew. I began crying and trying to speak through the cloth, but I was helpless to watch by. “Forgive me, Father, for what I am going to do.” He then pulled a knife from his pocket and plunged it into Mom’s neck with no mercy. I looked away once he did that, trembling, with tears pouring out and my vision glazed and I fell limp. I could see my brother tearing up, but he did not look away. I can hear Dad behind me, with his screams of agony and anger covered by the cloth. It felt like I was in slow motion, taking in every moment.
I then heard the chair, screeching as Steve dragged the chair containing Mom’s lifeless body towards the door, leaving behind a trail of blood. I couldn’t bear to see my mother like this. I shut my eyes very hard and hoped it would go away. The door then shut, leaving us alone with a candle, fearing what would come next. I stared at the candle, seeing it dance in the flames like a woman dancing in the darkness. Is this how it’ll end, I thought. End up dying to this sick man? My Mom was killed in front of me. I sobbed with that thought, then I began to think about the inevitable death of me. I hope there’s something after I die. Maybe I’ll see Mom again.
It was silent for a while, nearly no sound other than our moans. Dad seems to be fidgeting at the back of his chair, rocking it slowly. Looking past him, I shuddered at the glistening pool of blood, where Mom was last alive, could be my fate. I then see Dad release his arms from the back of the chair and remove the cloth from his mouth. He silently stood up and bent down to untie his legs from the chair legs. He then went to me and removed my cloth.
“H-h-how did you do that”, I silently wept, fearing that Steve would show up at the door and kill us all.
“My binding is loose. The old man probably took a liking to me”, Dad whispered. “I should remove your binds.” He untied them, releasing me, doing the same for Matt. “Now, we need to be quiet.” We then walked, quietly, along the painfully creaking wood in the near dark, following the blood trail, glistening in the candlelight. We cringed and dreaded each sound we made and watched the door in case it began to creak open. A few silent steps later, we made it to the door and we slowly opened it so as not to make any noise. What was revealed to us is nothing new, other than the blood trail continuing in the snow directing towards the back of the barn. “Okay, Kate, Matt, you guys run to the truck.”
“What about you”, I sobbed.
“Don’t worry about me”, Dad responded, giving me his keys and forcing them into my hand. “If I’m not back in a few minutes, leave. Don’t look back, take care of your brother, okay? I love you, no matter what happens.” He then kissed me on the head and ran to follow the blood trail. We quickly walked towards the black truck, stranded there for maybe hours. Getting closer, freedom is getting closer. When we got to a fair distance to the truck, I heard footsteps behind me and, the next thing I knew, I was knocked over to the ground into the hard snow on my face. A hand turned me over to give me a glimpse of a crazed Steve, his eyes wilder than before.
“Oh, yes, trying to escape”, he bragged. I looked at him, frozen in fear, like a deer in headlights and he caressed my face with his bloodied blade. “You do have a pretty face, but I’m afraid you are just one of Satan's creations, made to pull me to lust.” He then raised his knife in the air when a familiar side emerged, out of the blue.
Joe came and bit him in the arm that was holding the knife. Steve screamed in agony the moment he realised what happened. He shook Joe off and stood up to stand his ground. I stood up as Joe hissed and walked around the crazed being he wounded, not in fear but in aggressiveness. “Is this one of your pets, demon”, Steve screamed as Joe came in for another attack, but Steve countered that with a slash to the snout. Joe then ran away, whining, into the darkness. This sequence of events gave me the chance to enter the truck on the driver’s side. I had some trouble starting it, besides this is my first time driving a truck.
Steve menacelily walked towards the when Dad came barreling and tackled him to the ground. Dad was on top when he went limp. I finally put the keys in the engine turned it on and backed out, with memory serving me the instructions on such a vehicle. Steve pushed Dad’s body and stood up, but by that time, we left the farm.
“Turn back, we have to get Dad”, Matt cried, but I was very emotional, accepting what happened. I felt that, without my parents, I feel… useless.
“Dad’s dead”, I screamed at Matt and he began gagging uncontrollably in tears. I began to feel sorry for him. “Sorry, I, I don’t know.”
“It’s okay”, Matt sniffled. “I guess Mom and Dad are dead anyways.” It was silence for a few more minutes, tears welling in our eyes.
“Hey, our parents are in a better place”, I said, trying to make the situation positive.
“But we are stuck here, without them? Don’t we deserve to go to a better place?”
“Don’t say that”, I huffed and I paused for a bit. “I know we are in the, uh, right place now. Let me tell you something, once we get to Regina, I will take care of you, no matter what life throws at us.”
“What about Joe”, Matt asked.
“He’ll be fine. He probably found his girlfriend already.”
“Hey, don’t you have a boyfriend?”
“I, uh, I don’t have one. That I know of”, I spoke, bringing me back to Sam, remembering that she’s the only friend that I ever knew, and I left her. Without her, I felt alone, no one would ever relate. I began to tear up. “I don’t have any friends. I am alone,” I sobbed.
“What do you mean? I’m your brother!” I looked at Matt, and smiled, happy that he acknowledged that we were in this together.
“Thank you”, I thanked him. I slowly stopped on the road, just to hug Matt hard, crying my eyes out. We then heard what sounded like an elephant in front of us. We looked up to see a walking snow-covered brown fur wall with four pillar-like legs in front of us. Its curved tusks gleaned in the light and the eyes reflected in the light. The furry trunk waved around like a searching snake from a tree. We both knew what it was.
“Hey, look at that, a woolly mammoth”, Matt said, excitement running through him. At this point, we weren’t surprised.
“Yep, that is a woolly mammoth”, I added. The mammoth turned to us on the road, seemingly confused about where it was. It looked at our truck and seemed to growl, like an elephant. We are starting to realise this thing is becoming aggressive.
“Uh, should we move”, Matt asked. I remembered hearing something about standing your ground in case of an encounter with an elephant. I hoped it would work for a bigger, furrier version of one.
“No, we have to stand our ground.”
“But, it’ll attack u-”
“Trust me!” I then honked my horn and it backed up. It then rushed, then stopped, a mock charge. Eventually, it moved out of the road, disappearing into the darkness. We sighed in relief.
“That was close”, Matt sighed. I then continued to drive in the night, headlights leading the way. The road is bumpy, as noticed by every ditch and peak we hit, but surprisingly, Matt was fast asleep. I began to get comfortable driving and used to the road by that point. It was silent for a while until we hit a smaller intersection. That is when the truck shut down, completely and stopped. I tried the gas many times but with no effect. There is no light, nothing. It is near-darkness here, shone only by the moonlight.
“Shit”, I yelled, desperate to turn the truck on without much success. Matt woke up, confused.
“What happened”, he yawned.
“The truck turned itself off. I can’t get it back on”, I fretted and at that moment, Matt was just as panicked as I am.
“Why?”
“I-I don’t know. One moment, we were driving, another it just-”, I quavered, when I heard something rustle in the distance. We stood still, hoping whatever it was didn’t find us. I looked around, hoping to see something in the moonlight. I then see a long, walking animal. It looked like some sort of alligator at first, except for a dinosaur-like head. Once I strained my eyes to the darkness, my fear levels rose as I could see it walk on its hind limbs, with its forelimbs dangling nearly touching the ground.
It was wandering around on the road when I heard a near-crocodilian growl at Matt’s side of the truck. Another of those creatures appeared, seemingly looking into the window like a hungry bear, giving us a chance to see its scaly head. Its exposed alligator teeth gleaned in the light like knives, but more terrifying was the eye. Its serpentine pupil shone brilliantly in the light like eyes in the dark. It then ducked down, gave a hiss, and moved towards the other one. A few more showed up and formed a group.
“What should we do”, Matt asked. “Should we stay?” I looked around, hoping for another way to escape them without them noticing. I further strained my eyes and mentally mapped out the area. There is a cemetery on my right-hand side, a grain bin storage yard on my left and a series of trailers on the other side of the highway, which is ahead of us, from the storage area. There, I see a series of white, storage buildings, something we can go to and wait it out inside.
“Okay, so slowly open the door”, I instructed Matt. The click of the doors opening cringed us. We looked at the group, but there was no response from them. We then, as slowly as we could, opened the door and stepped out. Still no response. Matt then quietly ran to the other side, towards me. “Okay, we are going into the storage yard and go to the other entrance”, I said, pointing to the other right-hand corner. I wanted to get as far away from these things as possible before making a safe crossing. “Then, we cross the highway on the other side, run into the buildings and stay there for the night. Are you ready?”
“I guess”, he whispered, looking at me in fearful doubt.
“We are going to do this”, I whispered back. We then silently ran over, having to rely on our night-adapted eyes, to the corner, walking past the bins. We made it and nothing behind us so far. “We’re good so far.” We then crossed the road and noticed nothing. We noticed a tanker truck, leaking some sort of fluid across the road. I easily recognized it as fuel, based on its distinctive, sickly smell. I wouldn’t be worried about it if it weren’t for a collapsed light pole that is somehow still flickering with electricity near the area where the fuel would be flowing. We quickly avoided the fluid when I froze to see the group of the walking alligators, running towards us. “Run!” Matt tried to run, but one of those things appeared and clamped its jaws at the back of his neck. He yelped in pain and it took him down to the ground. “Matt”, I yelled, helplessly watching as the creature tore into him.
Matt reached out his arm before the others came to him, then a flash of fire came. At this point, I knew what happened, but I couldn’t even think before it exploded. It blew me towards the building, far away. I was knocked out for a few seconds before I regained consciousness, groaning in pain on the ice. I noticed something especially painful just below my chest. I reached towards the area with my hand. I pressed on it, more painful than ever and raised my hand, only to see blood, brightened by the fire. I realised I was wounded, maybe by shrapnel made by the explosion.
I looked toward where the truck was and all I saw was a blaze. Those things weren’t there, at least. I also noticed something else, too, there’s no Matt. I tried to look around for something, some sort of sign of my brother within the fire, but I saw none. I then wept, realising I had failed. I have failed to keep him safe. I have failed to give him a better life. I failed him as a sister. I could’ve done better. The thoughts poured in as tears glazed my eyes. At that moment, I failed to look around me.
I noticed a dark thing beside the blaze. I thought it was Matt, preparing to greet him back, even though I knew he couldn’t survive the explosion. The image became clearer and clearer as I noticed it was one of the walking crocs that, glazed by the fire, was coming towards me.
“Just kill me”, I screamed, preparing to painfully die to meet my maker. The creature was about to attack me when something large, silent as the wind, came charging and clamped down its massive jaws, filled with conical teeth on the hapless creature and raised it. The crocodile struggled before going limp with a crunch within its strong jaws. The big, dark and scaly monster that it is towered over me and is as long as a bus, possibly longer. Its large legs are a contradiction to its small arms that hide beneath its scarred, bulky body.
It turned to look at me with an oddly bird-like expression, revealing in the firelight numerous scars from battles I could never know and looked at me with its beady bird-like eyes, breathing out wisps from its nostrils like a dragon in the cool air. I recognized it as a creature I know too well, a T. Rex. I breathed heavily and sickly, looking at the thing, nearly expecting me to drop the body and go after me. Instead, it simply walked away, carrying its bloody prize with it, and steadily retreated into the darkness.
I then lay down in agonizing exhaustion on my back, thinking of the next step of action like I'm on a suicide mission I would never come back from. I looked in the direction of the graveyard and had one thought. I guess I am dying. a graveyard will do. I struggled to stand up, noticing my blood-soaked clothes and felt a broken left leg. I grasped my wound, limping step by step and enduring the sharp pain while shaking in the cold. Every step I took, I remembered all the memories, good or bad, that I had with my parents. My brother. My friends. My family. I eventually reached the cemetery and slouched at a tree.
“Guess I’m joining you, guys”, I said, speaking to the snow-covered gravestones, only to hear something. A familiar sound of chirping emerged and, lit by the blaze, it was a sight I can hope for. “Joe, what are you doing here”, I depressingly cheered as Joe went to me and curled up in my lap as if he were a cat. I noticed the new-found scar he had on his little snout, but I paid no mind as I petted him. “I guess you came back. Thank you so much for what you did”, I thanked him, not expecting such a loyal creature would be with me, comforting me, to the end, like what my mother used to do when I was a newborn. I heard another noise, this time a deep rumble.
I thought it was another earthquake coming, but it got louder the closer it got to me, becoming more animalistic only felt small vibrations I barely felt. Joe stayed put, oddly enough, as T. Rex, different from the first one, came. It walked towards us until it stopped short of us. It began to produce a low-pitched, bird-like purring, attracting Joe. I realised something, that this T. Rex is Joe’s parent. He joined the rest like him, whom they showed up and all chirped around.
The grown Rex then brought its snout closer to me, not to kill me, but to look at me. It did not reveal its teeth and was still purring. I put my hand out and its nose came close to it. It rubbed it against my hand and started to pet its cold, scaly skin as it breathed through its nose and put it on my chest. I rested my head on it before it pulled away. It gave out a hiss, but I knew it wasn’t that of a threat, but more of a thank you for bringing its small, sometimes immature, child home.
That gave me relief, as it felt like I at least did something for once. They walked away, along with Joe, towards the darkness amongst the gravestones in the cemetery. I glimpsed one last desperate look at Joe before walking beside his parent. I looked up at the sky and I could see all the stars, twinkling, and the dancing green auroras. I began to feel limp and felt the cold embrace of death coming over me, tears pouring out of my eyes. The sky then grew brighter and brighter, the stars faded into the light and I could see my family welcoming me to a new home. It then slowly went black, darker than a cave.
You would think this is the end of me. It wasn’t, or else I wouldn’t be writing this right now. I eventually woke up in a hospital in Regina. I was told I was rescued by a team that transported me while I was in a coma. The doctors said I was very lucky to be alive, as the shrapnel narrowly avoided my vital organs. After that, I was adopted into a new family, but I was only with them for a couple of years before finding a new job and moving out.
As for Sam, I don’t know what happened to her. I would like to think she is safe, somewhere else. As for my family, I think of them all the time. I was in a depressive period right after that. Eventually, over the years, I accepted that they were gone and went to a better place. For Joe, I would like to think he is all grown up, like his parents, and becoming the king of the jungle. I hope we meet again.
As for the evacuated area, it wasn’t some pipeline rupture that caused an evaluation, but an anomaly, with the exact reason not known. There are excuses for the claims of weird stuff going on in there, from disease to chemicals, to eventually a previously unknown geological event, but I saw through it all.
You may ask how, it's because I've been there. Take it or leave it, this is the story I have. As the decade came by, cover-ups were made to hide it, even walls were put around it. Since the incident, the exclusion zone grew from a mere 80 kilometers in diameter to 460 kilometers in diameter, emptying entire cities of the likes of Regina and Saskatoon. I had to move to North Battleford, by the recommendation from the same government covering it up, making me think that time will tell before the floodgates of truth open.
The anomaly didn’t have a name initially, however, over the years, everyone agreed on one name in particular: The Saskatchewan Anomaly.

Hi, i am not completely sure if this is an abusive situation but i feel i may get the support or advice i need here. I know my parents are sometimes emotionally abusive but i don’t know if this is one of them. I want to know if my feelings are normal.
My dad has been making me feel very uncomfortable. Some of the smaller things are how he still talks and jokes to me like i am a kid, he talks about my sister very negatively, and he apologizes for things but never does anything to fix them, words (sorry, love you, thank you, proud of you) have no meaning anymore.
I have two situations that made me very upset. First one is really uncomfortable to write out so i will copy/paste it from old notes. i went to practice driving and he had to go the bathroom and didn’t tell me until it was too late. This could have been avoided. He emptied his starbucks cup and did bathroom while i sat next to him. he said “don’t look sweetie” like he was talking to a kid and i just felt so uncomfortable. I feel really gross typing this out. We were in an empty space while practicing but then he took us to a public neighborhood area for this.
Usually i can freely talk to my therapist about anything but that one got stuck and i couldn’t tell her for a while. I felt so gross.
The second upsetting situation was when he forcefully made me sit in his lap. I don’t really remember it even though it was only a week ago but i do know i resisted at some point but he is too strong for me. I talked to my therapist about this and she had me realize how big my consent issues are. I was too scared to say no or resist any further. I was frozen. He called me his baby daughter (i’m 19) and this happened in front of my mom who seems ok with it.
Being touched makes me so uncomfortable and he should know this. He has said “i know you don’t like hugs but i have to” and then hugs me without me moving. The other day i kinda told him i didn’t like hugs so hopefully this stops in the future. It is terrifying to confront him.
Today i was going through the old passwords saved on my device to delete the ones that don’t belong to me (our family used to share an account) and i found accounts to websites.. with his username. I know this is normal and i shouldn’t be uncomfortable (<—i just caught myself saying things my dad says)
My parents treat me like a kid (im 19) and resent my sister (16) because she doesn’t tolerate their abuse. She is somehow able to say “i love you” to them but i can’t say it comfortably.
I would really appreciate if someone could tell me if it is normal to be so uncomfortable. i have such a hard time existing in my house. I feel so weak.