Dissect a virtual frog now

Hey there! I just wanted to weigh in with my personal experience taking wellbutrin for 2 years to manage depression, for anyone else out there who may find this helpful.
Before going into details, I want to emphasize that for managing my depression, wellbutrin was absolutely incredible and saved me from a really dark and heavy period in my life. Further, while stomach issues with wellbutrin are not uncommon, I believe my reaction was likely exceptionally severe (so I don't want to fearmonger).
The Good:
Wellbutrin was a huge help for me. I was on 150 mg for ~5 months and then 300 mg for ~20 months. It helped my depression a lot (though not my anxiety). I noticed on 150 mg my mood was quite unpredictable in a way that was really uncomfortable for me, but going up to 300 mg leveled things out.
The Ugly:
How it Started
While I was on wellbutrin, especially after going up to 300 mg, I slowly started to develop stomach issues. I had struggled with IBS-like symptoms on-and-off for a long time, but after about 3 months on wellbutrin it started to get much worse, and within 1 year of being on 300 mg it became horrifically unmanageable.
Stomach Pain & Diet
I lost over 10 pounds within a month last summer and, for context, I am already someone who has been "underweight" my whole life. I lost the weight really rapidly, none of my clothes fit, and I had no energy. I would take my wellbutrin in the morning (as is generally advised) and by around 2 pm would start to feel really bloated, and it would just get worse and worse until the evening, to the point where I could never eat dinner, or even leave the house much, and would just sit on the couch with a hot water bottle. At one point the pain was so bad a family physician sent me to the ER thinking I had appendicitis! I had multiple ultrasounds that came back clear.
I became gluten intolerant (not even a bite of bread was okay) and developed a pretty severe intolerance to soy (even small trace amounts of soy lecithin in things like granola bars and chocolate would take me out for an entire day)
Ultimately, doctors classified it just as IBS and put me on the low-FODMAP diet. It certainly helped, and it helped me identify my 'trigger' foods, but with being vegetarian, on low-FODMAP, and unable to eat soy, my diet felt impossibly restrictive. But, I felt better and stuck to it.
Eventually, the low-FODMAP diet stopped working, and this past January I had another flareup. This time was even worse. No foods were safe foods, and I was constantly in pain and bloated (to the point of looking 6 months pregnant on a regular basis). Eating became something I feared, but not eating would trigger stomach pain as well. I couldn't eat so much as a salad without taking multiple IB-Guard capsules beforehand and ginger gravol after, and even then it was painful.
Menstrual Cycle
While my stomach issues were constant, they definitely became significantly worse around my period and around mid-cycle (ovulation) for about a week at a time (so 2 out of 4 weeks, rip), and it was debilitating. For 2 days before my period and around ovulation, it felt like I had the flu. I couldn't eat, I would have the chills, throw up, be nauseous, and virtually unable to eat. This lead doctors to think I may have severe endometriosis, despite the absence of period cramps or heavy bleeding (which is possible, but unlikely).
Figuring It Out
I went to yet another doctor and she sent me for some tests, but I live in Montreal, Canada, where the wait times for those specific tests were ~8 months each, and I just couldn't handle it anymore. So, I decided to do an experiment on myself. Keep in mind that because the stomach problems evolved slowly while I took wellbutrin, I never realized it could be what was causing my issues-and for some reason no doctor suggested that either.
I realized that I took my medications in the morning, and by lunch I would start to feel unwell. So I did a trial where one day I didn't take the other prescription medication I take (sprionolactone for hormonal acne)-no difference. The next day, I didn't take my wellbutrin. I had the best day I had had in well over a year. No stomach pain whatsoever. I thought it could be a fluke, so I skipped a second day. No pain. Day 3, I took half my usual dose (150 mg)-horrible pain. So, I did what doctors would definitely not recommend and went off it cold turkey. Stomach problems=gone. It was incredible, and I felt like I had my life back.
Today
Today I feel amazing. I have virtually no stomach problems at all, and I have started to re-introduce foods that I could not tolerate a small bite of before. My gluten and soy intolerances completely disappeared, which was shocking. Last week I had pasta for the first time, today I had tofu for the first time again. Having a restrictive diet was not super bothersome to me after I got used to it, and I know many people live their whole lives with eating restrictions like that. But it is nice to be able to expand my diet again (especially as a vegetarian, being able to eat things like tofu and seitan is sooo helpful). I don't feel horrible around my period at all. I feel like I have my life back-I can go out with friends at night and just enjoy myself and not be in pain, not have to take 3 different supplements to eat a meal, can eat whatever I want on occasional restaurant outings, etc. My stomach problems felt like they took up 90% of my thoughts and energy, and now I have that all back to put towards myself and the people I care about <3
Important: Now, for the first few weeks wellbutrin withdrawal was kind of no big deal. I was definitely tired, but it was manageable and went away after a short while. HOWEVER, a month after I had a full nervous breakdown that was unlike anything I had ever experienced. I was inconsolable for 4 days, and eventually went to the ER, and ended up taking Ativan to get through the couple days that followed. However, I was put on Lexapro (just 5 mg) and have been 100% fine and thriving since, and my anxiety is way better than it ever was on wellbutrin. I should also note that I left a very, very difficult relationship during this time, and it went quite horribly, and so while I would be amiss to not say quitting wellbutirn cold turkey didn't contribute to this "breakdown", I think context is really important.
I should also note that I have a history of having a hard time with prescription medications (so before anyone else says it first, myself or a doctor probably should have guessed wellbutrin was the culprit long before the 2 years). In any case... I had to stop taking Zoloft a few years back because it made me horribly nauseous and bloated, and the same was true for oral contraceptives (I tried 5 different ones over 4 years and all caused horrible nausea)-I now have a copper IUD.
TLDR: Wellbutrin help my anxiety but caused horrific stomach problems (severe and painful bloating, constipation, stomach cramping, nausea) and lead me to develop intense food intolerances (to gluten and soy) and made a strict low-FODMAP diet the only way to keep myself going. Stopping wellbutrin cured my stomach issues within a month, but quitting cold turkey lead to an intense emotional break.
Sorry this was so long, but I hope it helps someone

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

i don't know if i'm being an idiot, but;
reading the literature, it seems there are 3 ways of using active track on an RS4 Pro;
1) with the Android Ronin app connected to the gimbal
2) with Raveneye
3) with Lidar
for the life of me, i can't get 1 or 2 to work any more - which is driving me crazy because i could last night. all i get is a message telling me that the "Gimbal is not connected". the green box follows what i outline, but there's no active track going on. i just watch the thing i'm trying to track saunter off screen. i can't use force mobile or virtual joystick or any of that stuff.
if i disconnect from Raveneye, i get force mobile and active track and all the rest of it back, but lose any image transmission.
i'm new to DJI and have no idea if there's some obvious point that i'm missing but i've been grinding away at this for quite a few hours now and would love it if someone had some information that might help!

I just to know your guys opinions on which version of the of game you would prefer to play tbh. I have pros and cons on each version...
Ps4 has the PROS of: - Being the most concenient for me to jump into. - Has trophies, which i like a lot. - The speedup is helpful! + has other QoL things.. - I can make out more details from the BGs...
The CONS are: - I really dislike the spell and abilities names but not that big of a deal. - the BGs look blurry....
Now, the PS1 version im playing on my phone with duckstation, its a version with the steam translation + modern spell/abilities names patched into.
PROs are: - The emulator has some nice CRT shaders which make me nostalgic (even though i couldnt have played this game back then since i had no english knowledge hehe) - might be childish, but changing the discs (even if virtually) makes me slightly happy... hehe
CONs are: - I can connect the ps4 controller to my phone to play (hate touch controls), but i find it annyoing that i have to use a specific cable to connect the ds4 back to the ps4....

• my phone screen is tiny!! And i have no other way to play on an emulator (my pc is on its last legs. The poor thing).

Now that i wrote it, i guess the choice is obvious haha. But still, id like to know which way you guys prefer to play. Since a lot of ppl here might fans from years ago. (The patch is just called "pc steam translation". You guys can google it and find an already patched version of the iso)

I myself live outside the city because I always have. I am the only one if my gay friends who lives outside a city. For this post I’ll consider every city larger than 250k population a city. Another reason I live outside the city is cost of living. Would I rather live in the city? Yes I would. Maybe someday but for now I’m content in suburbia and making the 90 minute drive to the nearest city to go to the gay club scene and see friends. My rent is cheap, it’s quite and violent crime where I live is virtually non existent.

Hey all - I've been looking at getting opnsense for a bit now and I've seen a lot of people mention they have it virtualized. I'm going to be setting up a Proxmox cluster soon and migrate over from Hyper - V. I'm wondering if what I'm wanting to do in the end will be possible with a VM, or possible to start with a VM and then backup / restore on an appliance.

• I'd like to eventually be able to handle a 10G network but I'm not there yet, more of a future proof item.
• I will have multiple VLANs and a managed switch - POE IP Cameras (future) on one, IOT devices on another, a main network, guest / client isolation network, maybe a media network but probably not really necessary.
• I'll be setting up a reverse proxy.
• I'll be playing around with firewall.
• Play around with any other cool things opnsense can do as I learn and play around with.
• I'll have 2 or 3 POE access points on the managed switch

The Proxmox hosts do have 8 1GB NICs each (2 servers) but I'm not sure if I can assign a VLAN to those NICs or how it works for network going out? and of course I'd have to upgrade later for 10GB NICs. If that doesn't work I was thinking of either the DEC675 or 695. Have many people bought the official appliances? How has your experience been? Would love to hear your experiences!

The amount of new things added in the DLC is practically exorbitant, and its clear that a lot of interesting new ideas were used, like the decision to have virtual pops instantly appear, the additional resource upkeep for pops in exchange for bonuses from modularity, (and the generation of nanite ships from starbase buildings, but that was technically first done by cordyceptic drones). The devs also did a great job tying in other ideas they themselves developed to the expansion (The final Toxic god and worm endings, and the infinity machine basically being the goal of the new crisis) increasing its replayability.
However, its also clear the reason the expansion was so good was because of the ideas that have been continually generated on this community. Becoming a Fallen empire has been a longstanding fantasy (and has been done by a few mods) and the same goes for nanotechnology, Paperclips, and the Mechanicus origin.
Stellaris has changed so much over the years, and regardless of whether in this recent expansion you think its changed for better or worse we've clearly shown some ability to change it. So, now that many of our longstanding desires (FE) and interests (Worm) have been addressed (if not perfected) what do you think our new ones should be?

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40 year old in Canada
600k in investments; 1m home with 90k mortgage left
158k salary (senior gov exec) with pension- can’t touch pension until age 55, but could cash out now for ~450k
Single, no dependents.
I used to want to keep moving up the career chain, but my goals and circumstances have changed. Now I want to be able to retire as soon as possible.
I put 6k per month (virtually all of my take home) toward my mortgage and will aim to pay it off in 1.5 years.
I think I could live on 40k a year but want to plan for closer to 85k in retirement to be on the safer side
Where do I go from here?

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💰 Trade and send your currency with ease, and watch as your own virtual economy flourishes. It's fun, innovative, and completely yours. Ready to create something amazing? Join us at FinFriend and let's make your currency dreams come true! 🎉
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Hello, I have been goofing around with windows server 2019 for a little bit now on my Dell PowerEdge R630 and I hate it, the only good part is RDP. I would love a better OS that can do virtualization and run a storage server my macs can use similar to how my synology does. any recommendations? Umbrel is a serious thought right now but the img installer they provide just doesn't work in VMs so I can't test it. I will be installing via iDRAC but if I have to I will plug the USB installer in instead of using the virtual console's virtual media thing.

I had BMX with ALND dissection 2 months ago. A few days after my surgery I noticed my armpit area like the area between my shoulder and clavicle was swollen. I went to thw DR she said it was normal and there wasn’t anything to drain. Well it got somewhat better but was still “puffy”. Now, I’m on day 16 of radiation and I probably really over did it over the weekend and it seems to be getting worse. I do go to an occupational therapist that specializes in lymphedema once a week and says it’s not lymphedema. Was wondering if anyone else has experienced this and when the swelling might go away

I (23f) have a coworker (20m&f) that claims I misgendered them. I started working at a piercing shop about 2 months ago. On my first day they were very nice and asked me what my pronouns were. I said she/her and thought the question a little odd considering how openly feminine I am but I figured they just had a progressive mentality. They have a really alternative style that usually leans more feminine and have a woman name and was born as a female so I called them she/her for the whole two months I’ve worked there. I did notice that other coworkers would change pronouns when referring to them. Sometimes it would be she/her or he/him, other times it would be they/them. I figured that it would be okay to just stick to one since I didn’t have the energy to remember to switch it out every time and my gender fluid coworker had never said they had a preference or that I had crossed any boundaries. Fast forward to a few days ago, they started acting very cold towards me, and slowly each coworker acted the same. When staying pronouns of people they would give me a look like they’re annoyed and I’m stupid. They made a joke about a frog they drew saying “I put a bow on it so everybody knows it’s a girl!” And then they glared at me! I also noticed that when saying pronouns with customers, my coworkers now pronounce it with a heavy tone, and everybody has been saying they/them way more often to people who visually appear really straightforward as male or female. I know something is definitely going on behind my back because of how heavy the attitude shift has been amongst my coworkers. It’s about 10 people against me in a professional setting. I’m also openly a Christian but I truly do want to treat everyone with respect but wasn’t given the proper information, did I really do something wrong??

I recently posted a potential build of mine to be reviewed. I got a lot of interesting comments, but one about how I could have virtualization issues with the i7-13700k I selected as my CPU caught my attention. They said:
"I don't know much about the issue, but I've heard that Ryzen is better for virtualization because all cores are symmetric (e.g. the 7950X has 16 performance cores). The I7 and I9 have more cores, but they are a mix of performance and efficiency cores, and if they are not allocated properly between VMs that can cause problems.
This is the one benchmark I could find: https://tpucdn.com/review/intel-core-i9-14900k/images/virtualization.png
I don't have anything more solid than forum threads. In theory, the problem is that Windows organizes the assignments of E and P cores, so it may send a different composition of E vs P accross different VMs. https://www.reddit.com/virtualbox/comments/trecx1/how_will_vbox_deal_with_asymmetric_cpus_eg_intel/ https://superuser.com/questions/1747857/does-the-hybrid-cpu-architecture-pose-any-new-issues-for-vms-or-vm-software-li"
The PC is going to be my homelab so I can dive more into some of my interests in cybersecurity. I think they main use case will just be having a separate, secure environment where I can spin of lots of different VMs. I'm not sure what kind of hypervisor I want to use yet (type 1 or type 2).
But now I'm concerned with whether or not the current Intel CPU's will play nice with the various hypervisors out there. Has anyone had any issues? Should I replace my i7 with a Ryzen, and if so, which would be roughly equivalent? I just want my hardware to be as compatible as possible with whatever virtualization method I choose.

Purchased a 3 unit multi-family a couple of months ago (I live in one of the units). I inherited tenants in both of the other units. They are pretty easy tenants. The last owner did not raise rent for 7 years and now their current rent is about $800 , per unit, under the market rate for the neighborhood for building units that are virtually the same- I have made several upgrades to the building/units (about $15ks worth).
My question is how much is to much to raise rent? I want to bump each unit up about $400 per month (which is still significantly under comps for the neighborhood).
I would like them to stay but this is an investment and I can not subsidize their rent just because they got a sweet deal for the last 7 years from the previous landlord.

I had a total hysterectomy the end of January and it's like every single month since then I've had a UTI.
The third time I went to urgent care about it, they gave me the same antibiotic even though I told them it hadn't worked for me before, and the antibiotics didn't feel like they helped at all this last time. They supposedly tested it for cultures yet they never gave me the results. (The first two times I did a virtual appointment for antibiotics because I didn't think anything of it and I know that was a dumb move. But at least those times it seemed to help).
Now I'm getting concerned by how I'm getting more noticable symptoms yet again just two weeks after finishing the antibiotics.
I even said this is the third UTI I had and they didn't care and just asked me "do you know how to wipe right"? It felt so insulting.
I tried to chug a lot of water this weekend and that seemed to help but of course that's not doable to just be going to the bathroom all the time. I tried my best though to drink as much as I could to follow the 8 cups a day, yet I STILL feel pain when peeing. Sometimes it still smells weird too (like bleach or sweet). I know drinking a lot of water helps and I really try to but sometimes it's just not doable. I feel like I get UTIs or worse symptoms the second I don't drink 8+ glasses a day.
And today I've been noticing some lower abdominal pain on the right side of my stomach (not pelvic pain). I'm just starting to get so irritated and concerned because I'm told "you need to treat your UTI" yet nobody seems to care that I've BEEN HAVING UTIS FOR 4 FUCKING MONTHS.
I can't be in the bathroom every hour for the rest of my life and I'd like to have sex again eventually (I'm cleared for it). This doesn't make me feel like I can even wear thongs again either because I know it can increase the risk of UTIs (from what I've heard).

I know everyone's chasing other plays right now, but as Pride Month approaches, I'm looking towards companies that align with my values. That's why I'm increasingly drawn to Grindr. It's easy to dismiss it as just a hookup app, but I've come to realize that there's way more to Grindr than meets the eye.
Sure, it might have started out as a way for guys to find sex, but over the years it's evolved into so much more.
For one thing, Grindr has become an important platform for LGBTQ+ activism and community building, amplifying voices for the historically marginalized group. Through its "Kindr" initiative, the company has taken steps to combat discrimination and harassment on the app. And with features like Gaymoj (the world's first gay emoji keyboard), Grindr is helping queer people express themselves in ways that were once impossible.
Grindr's impact extends far beyond its virtual borders. The Grindr for Equality global initiative, launched in 2019, actively champions justice and equality for LGBTQ+ individuals worldwide. From fighting anti-LGBTQ+ legislation in Uganda to supporting persecuted individuals in Egypt, Grindr is using its platform to make a difference.
Grindr's CEO, George Arison, is also an active supporter of gay rights, frequently using social media to raise awareness and advocate for change.
The world is becoming more accepting everyday. Grindr is in prime position to capitalize on this, but the bottom line is that GRND represents more than just a financially promising opportunity; it represents a movement, a moral investment in a company committed to promoting LGBTQ+ advocacy and creating a better world for all of us.
As for me, I'm holding 6,500 shares of GRND at an average price of $8.43 per share.
Happy pride y'all! 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

So as some may have already heard, ChatGPT4.0 was released today and I just saw some of what it can do and one of the new capabilities is personalised tutoring. This machine just taught someone (myself included) some moderately advanced mathematics all in the span of 3.5 minutes.
As a pre-service teacher, this does worry me and leads me to think the teaching profession may be taken over by software and interactive computers, and perhaps in the near future seeing as just less than 2 years ago A.I was virtually a joke. 5 years from now it’ll most likely be amazing without the errors of a human or everything else that comes with needing a human teacher.
What are everyone’s thoughts on this? Should we be worried?