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Hi all,
This is my very first post and English is not my native language. Please forgive me for any errors.
I admit I don't really know what to expect from this post, creating mainly to let off steam.
It might be quite long haha. So me (24M) and my ex (24F) were together since we were 17.
So we have met in high school. We quickly decided to stay together despite studying in different cities. To be honest we never had a real argument during our 6 and a half years of relationship. Small arguments about boundaries that should not be crossed and which were resolved in a healthy way.
To give some context. My ex has an alcoholic mother and a father who more or less abandoned her at a young age but eventually came back. She also comes from a much more difficult economic background than me.
I am lucky to have a very united and supportive family. We also have no money problems and are there to help us in difficult times.
After a few months of dating, I very quickly integrated my ex into my family. We hosted all the parties at our house, my parents took her on trips with us, and I always did my best to help her in her life (picking her up from work, bringing her meals when she finished work, I took the train every weekend to see her in her city).
She always said that I was an excellent, even perfect boyfriend. I have always proven my loyalty and my love for her. She still seemed extremely happy with it and was a bit boastful about it haha. We ended up moving in together in 2022.
This is where we had our first real problems. Since she had no financial support from her parents, she had to work at the same time as her studies. She was naturally very tired physically and mentally. Personally, at that time I really didn't like my studies and I was very stressed because 1 year later I had to find my first job.
Our first arguments therefore revolved around personal investment in cleaning and maintaining the house. I was never really satisfied with her investment. We had a few arguments but we got there in the end. I naturally relaxed with my reduction in stress and I realized that I had a tendency to want to control my environment during my stressful periods. So I made an effort and things got better.
From summer 2023, we changed apartments and I had my first internship and then my first job. With a significant salary, I told her to stop working and focus on her studies (she repeated her year once because her work took up too much of her time).
So, I took care of everything and I gave her €400 per month so that she could continue to live a normal life. In September 2023, she started to go to her business school and I start to see some personality change.
For more context, I am a very introverted person. I have never smoked, never tried drugs, never gone to nightclubs and I drink very little. I spend my free time playing PC, role-playing games or playing sports. My ex was also very introverted, she loves reading at home while drinking coffee. She went out once every full moon to have a drink with her best friend.
But, once she arrived at her new school, she started going out more often, going to nightclubs (in 6 years she must have gone 3 times). She also started smoking an electronic cigarette.
The fateful moment was at the end of January 2024. As part of her studies, she had to go to Barcelona for 3 months. I was very happy for her knowing that we had already established a long-distance relationship (however, it was me who left and she stayed in our hometown).
The beginning went very well but she ended up joining a shared accommodation in February. From there, she started going out 3 or 4 times a week. She went out to a nightclub with roommates except the girls whom decided to go home and she decided to go only with the boys (I never met them and she only knew them for two weeks). I admit that I may be a little old-fashioned and I consider that the nightclub is necessarily a place of seduction (not that my ex wanted to seduce but she was inevitably going to be hit on). I didn't say anything about it but she quickly understood that I didn't like it. I told her that I wouldn't forbid her anything but I found that knowing me she could suspect that I wouldn't like it.
So we had a change that I found radical in her personality. She went out a lot more. Not to exonerate myself, but it was also a difficult time for me. Again for context, I usally give off the impression of someone who always knows what I do, what I want and who I am. However, during this period I was externally uncomfortable in my skin. I had problems in my job and I was overall very stressed and I had very little self-confidence (which had almost never happened in 6 years).
Coming back to my ex, I noticed this personality change and became increasingly dissatisfied with our call times, the amount of messages and generally the amount of attention she gave me. So we had a lot of disagreements over that. She told me that I was suffocating her, that I was too controlling (again I never told her that I didn't want her to go out or stop having a relation with one of her roommates (my instinct really told me that something was going on with one of her roommates but I didn't know who was the main actor in this potential flirtation).
She started lying to me about insignificant things (she ended up telling me that she was lying to me so I wouldn't get angry???) but I became more and more controlling. Big argument after an evening where she told me she was going home to sleep but I saw her in the club with the localisation of her phone. She offered me a break, I got really angry for the first time in our relationship. For me a break means a breakup (it may be stupid but with everything that was happening that's what seemed to happen to me).
After my outburst (no insults and barely raised my voice (I don't know how to get angry lol)), she came to join me to try to repair things (I was very happy). However, we argued for 8 days, sometimes things went well but it remained tense. Also I saw her staying on her phone every night when I went to bed. I found it too weird. I finally broke down and looked at her messages (first time in 6 years), I found exchanges between them. Nothing blatant but I personally find them flirting. At least she spoke to him the same way she spoke to me at the beginning of our relationship.
She ended up returning to Barcelona and we made small promises to improve the relationship. But once she got back to Barcelona she didn't answer me all day. I blamed her a bit for that and set a little trap for her (it's not good, I know). I told her that I didn't like this guy (I didn't tell her to cut contact (I've had already cut contact with girls that my ex didn't like)). And I told her not to talk to him about this discussion (she talked to him about it that same evening). I asked her if she had told him and she told me that she hadn't told him anything. So I told her “we’ll probably have to separate” and then she left and didn’t want to hear anything more. I told her right away that I loved her and that I didn't want to break up but that I didn't know what to do anymore given her behavior.
So we parted ways. I went back and forth between « I love you more than anything » and « I have to cut you out of my life to move forward ». She told me to leave her alone while she figured out what was happening while saying that in any case it was over. I couldn't leave her alone to think. I learned through a TikTok that she had kissed this famous roommate…. I also had to manage all the administrative formalities alone...
I did everything to heal in the healthiest way possible (sport, therapy, seeing my friends and family). I didn't fall into a band-aid relationship, I didn't fall into alcohol, parties or other palliatives.
It will now be a little over 2 months since we have been separated. I accepted it, I still love her even if her behavior disgusts me. And I find it hard not to blame her for not knowing how to help me during this period (even though she obviously tried even if it was never enough for me).
I admit I'm still a little lost. I still love her even if I don't necessarily want to get back with her. I returned to work, I continue to exercise but the lack of physical and emotional affection is a bit difficult. Having to start all over again seems so difficult to me, I admit that I don't like the culture of one-night stands. I want to get married and have children. I'm a little lost and don't really know what to expect from this post. If you have any advice, explanations for her behavior or need more details, don't hesitate.
Thank you.

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Visit for White Cloud Electronic Cigarettes Promo Code in May 2024. This link provides a regularly updated list of coupons, promo codes and discount deals.

QYResearch released the latest report Global E-cigarette Market Outlook: 2024-2030 that presents a grand panorama of a thriving e-cigarette market. In the coming years, the e-cigarette market is projected to continue its robust growth trajectory at a steady annual rate of 8.7%. By 2030, its size is expected to soar to a remarkable $44.87 billion, showcasing the thriving potential and boundless business opportunities in the e-cigarette industry. The research data reveals the competitive landscape of the global e-cigarette market in 2023. In 2023, those top ten e-cigarette manufacturers collectively hold a significant share of 43.0% in the global e-cigarette market. Among them, these renowned brands include British American Tobacco, ELFBAR, Altria (Juul Labs), SKE Crystal, Imperial Tobacco, RELX, Japan Tobacco, MOTI, Boulder, and Smoore International, etc. The following chart illustrates the specific percentage of each global leading market share:
In 2024, which e-cigarette brand will make it to the list, and which one will drop off?
SMOANT and ANTBAR, two best vape brands with a decade-long history in e-cigarette research, production, and sales, which have a great potential and change to catch attention and make the ranking!
In terms of the division of the global e-cigarette market based on QYResearch’s research data, the offline channels have become the main driver of demand, accounting for approximately 82.8% of the market share indicating the core position and significant influence of offline channels in e-cigarette sales.

It started happening recently, I'm pretty sure it has to be something with electronics. I am not certain if the noise is coming from the speakers or not. Here is the video of me turning the calights on and off, and it making weird sounds. Any help is appreciated 👍🏻. I've already posted to Citroen and someone asked me if it was a prank, sadly it isn't. After the recording I went to the gas station to get cigarettes, and I drove with higher rpm than usually because I was a bit frustrated because of this problem. When I returned home and tried again to turn the lights on/off it worked normally. Now I don't really know how rpm may have affected this, but I'm still not satisfied because I'm looking for a permanent fix (the problem happened earlier and it stopped, but not with the lights). As I said above any help is appreciated.

It started happening recently, I'm pretty sure it has to be something with electronics. I am not certain if the noise is coming from the speakers or not. Here is the video of me turning the calights on and off, and it making weird sounds. Any help is appreciated 👍🏻. I've already posted to Citroen and someone asked me if it was a prank, sadly it isn't. After the recording I went to the gas station to get cigarettes, and I drove with higher rpm than usually because I was a bit frustrated because of this problem. When I returned home and tried again to turn the lights on/off it worked normally. Now I don't really know how rpm may have affected this, but I'm still not satisfied because I'm looking for a permanent fix (the problem happened earlier and it stopped, but not with the lights). As I said above any help is appreciated.

By hearing contradictory speeches, we no longer understand anything. So, are e-cigarettes really an effective aid for quitting smoking? Yes or no, is vaping better for your health than smoking? Answers from a tobacco specialist and an epidemiologist.
In 2022, 7.3% of 18-75 year olds reportedvaping, including 5.5% daily, according to the latest figures from Santé Publique France (source 1). In just a few years, smokers have adopted e-cigarettes as another means ofquitting smoking. However, in a July 2019 report, the World Health Organization (WHO) criticizedelectronic cigarettesfor being “unquestionably harmful”. So, what should we think about it?
https://www.seraviral-ova.com/2024/05/do-electronic-cigarettes-really-help.html

I don't know if this would help anyone or not... but I'll share it...some back story on my nicotine history. ZYN was not my first experience with nicotine. (But shall it forever be the last) I first let nicotine into my being when I stole a cigarette from my much older cousin when I was 9 years old. A Marlboro Menthol 100. And the journey of drug/chemical addiction from there is literally personified perfectly in a video that u/Joel-Spitzer shared (didn't create, just shared as a great illustration) called Nuggets (youtube.com). I'll never forget that first buzz, it put me on the floor. I started smoking pot soon after that. Then drinking whiskey. (all of my friends and their parents were drug addicts and alcoholics). The resources were very attainable. At 12 I got put on heavy anti-depressants and anti-psychotics. By 13 and 14 I moved up to pain pills, and stronger pot. From 14 to 18 I smoked 2 packs a day (on top of an ounce of pot every few days) and long story short through various self-destructive seasons I eventually got caught up in every upper (MDMA, Cocaine, Meth) and downer (Morphine/Heroin/Oxy) that there was at the time. Snorting/shooting up, you name it, I did it. I OD'd several times, and it's by the grace and mercy of God I'm not dead. When I turned 19 a very beautiful and powerful legit spiritual experience happened to me. That initially helped me get clean off the heavy illegal stuff, but my mind just wasn't made up the way it needed to be to get off everything I knew I needed to (pharmaceuticals and nicotine). Much of my 20s I struggled. I'd get off everything except my anti-depressants, and then eventually I'd need to get a refill on that...my lizard brain could quickly get an RX for this or that (I knew how to work the system, and find the doctors that pushed stuff) and the next thing you know I'd be high. Especially with prescribed medical THC...good gracious...100% THC products are way to powerful.... Back to nicotine- in my 20s over several years and seasons of life I went through Grizzly wintergreen long cut chew, vaping (disposable and mods/kits), and eventually 21mg nicotine patches. Literally hooked on the patches for multiple years. I got off patches finally in 2018. In 2019 I got off of every prescribed pharmaceutical and quit medical marijuana. I'm still living my life free from pills and THC - going on 5 years. But...struggling through depression during COVID lock down and in a moment of weakness, I bought my first tin of ZYN. But the nicotine beast is the nicotine beast. I secretly struggled with it 2020, 2021, 2022, and most of 2023. I've said all that to say, it started with nicotine, and it ends with nicotine. It's like the final building block to my castle of ultimate sobriety I suppose. With the nicotine compromise out of the way, my life can finally be what it's supposed to be. 185 days ago was over 20 years in the making. Thanks for taking the time to read all of this. Just for today, let's stay clean.

By hearing contradictory speeches, we no longer understand anything. So, are e-cigarettes really an effective aid for quitting smoking? Yes or no, is vaping better for your health than smoking? Answers from a tobacco specialist and an epidemiologist.
In 2022, 7.3% of 18-75 year olds reportedvaping, including 5.5% daily, according to the latest figures from Santé Publique France (source 1). In just a few years, smokers have adopted e-cigarettes as another means ofquitting smoking. However, in a July 2019 report, the World Health Organization (WHO) criticizedelectronic cigarettesfor being “unquestionably harmful”. So, what should we think about it?
https://www.seraviral-ova.com/2024/05/do-electronic-cigarettes-really-help.html

Our well-being and health depend greatly on sleep hygiene.

Here are some tips to improve your sleep:

Consistent sleep schedule:

• Stick to a circadian rhythm by going to bed and getting up at normal times. This synchronizes your sleep-wake cycle.

Avoid stimulants:

• Limit the consumption of coffee, cola drinks, cigarettes and alcohol. Alcohol, although it can induce sleep, disrupts its quality in the long term.

Separate bed from non-sleep activities:

• Use the bed only for sleeping and sexual activities. Avoid reading, watching TV, or eating in bed.

Manage your nighttime awakenings:

• If you wake up during the night and can't get back to sleep, get up and do calming activities until the next sleep cycle arrives.

Avoid excessive naps:

• They can interrupt your sleep. It is advisable to maintain an uninterrupted night's sleep.

Promote physical exercise:

• Avoid strenuous exercise in the late evening, but a walk is beneficial.

Create an environment conducive to sleep:

• Maintain an environment conducive to sleep by reducing noise, ensuring a comfortable temperature in the bedroom and opting for a cozy bed.

Avoid heavy meals before sleeping:

• Eat at normal times and avoid large meals in the evening.
• Limit the use of electronic devices before bed:
• Avoid screens at least 30 minutes before bed.
• Reduce your caffeine and nicotine intake during the evening.

By following these tips, you will have the opportunity to improve the quality of your sleep and support your overall well-being.
https://www.soin-atmedco.com/2024/05/quavez-vous-appris-sur-lhygiene-du.html

I've been thinking about posting this for the last week or so and been trying to get my thoughts down because I can't keep this bottled up anymore. I have to say to somewhere, I'm being eaten alive inside not acknowledging this. I don't have anyone to talk to, and even if I did, I wouldn't trust them or feel comfortable enough talking about this. The anonymity of a throwaway account late at night is the only thing giving me the strength to say all this. I do not have anyone in my life I'm close to. I moved in with my parents, but I keep mostly to myself. I see them for dinner, but I'm not around them for much else.
The only friend I can say I have is hundreds of miles away and we only talk sporadically. I have no friends at work, they're colleagues only; the day I stop working there is the last day I talk to them.
I work remotely, so I rarely leave my home anymore. I order as much as I can online to avoid human contact. I use self-checkout lines and drive through windows as much as possible when I do have to go out. I've put less than 3,000 miles on my car in the last 3 years.
Starting in middle school, I was consistently telling my parents that I was depressed and needed help. I got none until there wasn't an option anymore. The warning signs were there in the years prior, but they were either ignored or not seen. I tried to get into therapy and they prevented that from happening. I tried to get on anti-depressants before I even hit high school and they refused because, "blah blah blah you don't need medication," and, "all those pills aren't good for you." I knew I had problems. I knew I was going to get worse without help. I knew I couldn't keep living the way I was. Either out of fear or ignorance, my parents insisted that nothing was wrong with me and it was just a phase. That I should just stop bringing this up and move on. Probably explains my extreme reluctance and aversion to seeking basically any help at all for anything ever.
All of this (and obviously my mental state) lead to years of self harm. I started drinking when I was 12. Moderately at first, but immediately after I graduated high school, I moved out on my own and got drunk almost every day after work. I started smoking cigarettes when I was 16 and continued that habit into my 20s. I wore sweatshirts to school almost every day to cover up the dozens of cuts across my forearms. I wore pants almost every day to cover up the dozens of cuts across my thighs. Almost all the physical scars have faded, but there are still some that remind me of this time. There are still faint criss-cross marks on my shoulders from having cut myself in the same spots repeatedly and not allowing anything to heal for months at a time. There are still one or two marks across my thighs from particularly deep cuts. The worst 3 scars come from me holding a flame to my arm and watching and smelling as I burnt away my own flesh. I don't remember feeling anything physically or emotionally when I did this, just a sense of fear that my parents would smell what I did to myself. These scars have faded somewhat, but I look at them every day.
I got right to the edge of killing myself dozens of times, but failed to fully act. Holding knives to my neck or wrists in the bathtub wishing for the courage to cut myself open and bleed out. Wrapping a belt around my neck, tying that to the door handle, and slumping down trying to choke myself. Tying nooses out of rope in the garage and standing on the ladder under a heavy wooden support beam. Staring at trees along the side of the road and desperately wanting to slam my car into them at 60mph. A single gram more "courage," and I would have followed through.
I was finally forced to get at least some help when I was in high school and I got put on an involuntary psychiatric hold. I was pulled out of class and brought to the office where one cop stood in front of the door preventing me from leaving and another sat beside me leading the conversation with the administrators and my parents. I was brought in a cop car to a county mental health facility for evaluation, then transferred to the juvenile wing of a mental health hospital.
I lied every step of the way through. I lied to the school. I lied to the cops. I lied to the county psychologists. I lied to the hospital psychologists. I lied to my parents. I lied to escape. I lied to try to go home. I lied hoping I wouldn't be forced onto medication and held for weeks in the hospital for further evaluation. I lied myself out of getting help I desperately needed and wanted but was incapable of admitting to and asking for when I finally got an opportunity after literal years of begging for it.
I was released after the mandatory minimum observation period only on the condition that my parents could prove they had aligned psychological resources for me. It came at a raw point for me. I had confided in someone, they were concerned, and I was whisked away to white walls and locked facilities; I couldn't even use the bathroom without some level of supervision.
I couldn't bring myself to trust anyone with the truth, I would just wind up back in a locked room. So I didn't take therapy seriously. I did my absolute best to make sure I didn't have to talk much, that anything I said was generic and lacked any substance, that I tuned out the psychologists words because I wasn't going to cooperate. I'm sure in my mind I was being tricky and smart and manipulating the system. I'm sure they saw right through that facade.
Eventually I locked in with a psychologist that started some longer term care. I was in therapy for almost 10 years total, the final 6-7 with this one. I still had trust issues (still do obviously). At least with this one I finally had enough trust to ask about anti-depressants. I finally had the courage to tell someone the feelings I had surrounding my own identify. I wound up getting scrips through my medical doctor. I took them for maybe 6 months. Everyone around me was a lot happier, and according to them, I was a lot more bearable to be around. I wasn't happy though. I hated it. I felt foggy, like I was watching my life through cloudy glass while someone else was in control. Like the person I was had been caged off, sequestered from existence. But I hadn't made any progress on my underlying issues, and I wasn't going to, so I failed.
I stopped taking all my meds and have never gotten back on anything. I quit going to therapy. It's been over 10 years since then.
I have hated myself every. Single. Day. Since. I am depressed constantly, and feel very few moments of genuine happiness.
I know that I need help. I know I should get back on meds. I know I should seek a therapist and try to work through this. I just can't bring myself to do it. I don't know if I'm trying to punish myself for choosing to live, punishing myself for being "too weak" to kill myself, punish myself for choosing not to take help when it was offered, punish myself for choosing to revert on any progress I was making, or what. But I am punishing myself. Any attempt I make at changing habits is swiftly overridden by my deep seated need to keep myself from getting better. Any thoughts of making human connections are immediately squashed by the voice in my head reminding me that I bring no value to other people's lives. I feel like I'm drowning in my own self-destructive behavior and I don't know how I can bring myself to stop and get the help I need.

I distinictaly remember watching this in health class every year of elementary school (2010s) yet google search is turning up nothing. I would wager it was made in the mid-2000s based on animation style, but it might have been earlier. It was pretty long and became really dark at the ending.
It starts with some kid (I think he had just moved into the neighborhood but I’m not sure) smelling smoke out his bedroom window and going to investigate. He finds people smoking (in a forest) and they are getting their cigarettes from a talking, anthropomorphic cig. The talking cigarette takes the main character to a smoking-themed amusement park, which seems cool at first but there’s actually smoking addicts being tortured inside in a Infernoesque “the punishment is representative of what’s wrong with your sin” manner. At this point i loose memory of what happens until the end, where someone just blows up the amusement park and kills the talking cigarette.
The whole thing was somewhere in between a trip and a nightmare, and it’s permanently burned into my brain. Nobody I went to elementary school with remembers this, including the health teacher, but I absolutely swear it was real.
Thanks in advance for the help!!

I was 17 years old when I started smoking electronic cigarettes. Now I'm 19 years old and I have erectile dysfunction. I have completely quit smoking as of today, I have been exercising regularly for a couple of months, and I have stopped watching porn. If there are people who have been in a similar situation or know what I could do, I ask you to please write your thoughts and ideas, cause I don't know how to live like that.
Thank you.

I was born in 1996. to a very unstable mother who had all sorts of childhood trauma and borderline personality disorder as a result. what a ride.
I have an older sister from a different father only 2 years older than me. My mom and her father got divorced. A very messy one.
my father an Irish catholic man who doesn't think emotions exist. he left mom when I was 2. He already had 3 daughters and wife before my mom.
I went into foster care age 2. my sister went to live with her father, who is a wonderful man. my mom was sectioned and my dad disappeared. my mom says it's the worst thing to ever happen to her and she feels guilty about it everyday.
she got me back when I was 4 but my attachments are shattered. my mom met my step dad and things I thought were normal. I was diagnosed with ADHD and always knew something didn't feel quite right. my step dad would often shout at me even burned me with a cigarette on my hand while walking next to me one time, and claims it was an accident and I shouldn't of walked to close to him.
I was gaslit by my mom for years her telling me my childhood wasn't that bad and I was naughty.
My mom was so emotionally absent from me, I think she resents me for causing her so much grief. we never spent any time together, I often was caught in her cycles of abuse and then apologising and trying to over compensate. we fought almost every day. I have two younger brothers from my step dad and they can do no wrong.
I didn't know who my dad was my mom told briefly about him when I started asking questions. I had no idea who I was. Then out of blue my mom magically found my dad again when I was 12 and thought this might magically save our relationship she kept destroying. she started sleeping with him before I could get to know him properly.
I started petulant attempts a suicide.
my dad would punish me and shout at me and one time even psychically abused me. one time I was in hospital for an episode and told me I was just playing games.
I tried to go and live with my aunt once in this abuse cycle. I became off the rails and rebelled against everyone and everything I was pushed around from pillar to post. and eventually went back into foster care. This destroyed me. my worst fear happened. I became mean and angry, in all honesty. but I ave such a good heart.
I became distant from everyone I hated my parents and the whole world. I didn't want to be here. my mom would often call me drunk asking if I wanted to go home, I would baby sit for her trying to get some appreciation and validation and she would just use me and tell me she was going out to AA meetings and shed be meeting different men.
she would often have episodes of being drunk and calling everyone and when I was 23 my sister even told me my mom threatened her with a knife to her neck. which I struggle to come to terms with today.
I started drinking at a young age and partying, getting myself involved with all kids of people that took advantage of me.
after leaving foster care I lived in a half way house for homeless people after one of my friends moms sublet me a place and soon gave up on me for my behaviour and weed smoking with my flat mate in the house.
I met my first proper boyfriend at 19. he kind of clung on to me and some how I fell in love with him. he stuck by me and was my rock through navigating life after foster care. I think it was a place for him to get away from his parents and smoke weed and do graffiti. which I ask him to help me get into.
things go very abusive after we started living together. I had my own flat from the council and let him move in (stupid I know). We were verbally and psychically aggressive towards each other, I was depressed and he told me I made him feel like less of a man.
he saw me self harm. I hate myself for this.
we broke up. and I had a break down. I admitted myself to hospital multiple times. I knew I couldn't keep living like this after being on benefits and having dead end jobs. I trained as a hairdressing something I said id never do as my mom did it for a while but I was convinced id be more of a woman that she ever was.
I was a good hairdresser. I still am. I really tuned my life around. I moved out my council flat. bounced around a little bit. trying too find my feet still.
had a few rocky unstable relationships, many anti depressants and failed attempts at finding therapy.
I moved to London after covid to pursue a better hair career than in my home city. however I got bored and dated too many coworkers. ah yes the self destructive patterns persist.
I didn't speak to my mom for 7 years and even longer with my dad after I walked out of his wedding. cause I had a panic attack. my three older sisters were there that ive never met.
I did something extraordinary, I went to uni. I now study fashion. im now in my first year.and im finally financially table enough that ive now been in therapy for 6 months. I write this im now discovering who I am. and I may in fact have BPD myself now, I show many traits as you might of picked up. and struggle with relationships, substances and identity disturbance.
im on journey of self discovery and trying to shake this sense of entitlement and victimhood my childhood has given me. I speak to my mom again however she won't do therapy with me and Im now learning to set some boundaries with her. My dad could be on another planet. good news I guess.
me and my sister have always been close although at times our relationship is very strained due to my bpd traits. and her feeling like she needs to overcompensate because of my mom. I even often resented her for having her father support her unconditionally. she often resents me cause she feels like she has had to mother me :(
Im currently thinking to go to an AA meeting because the shame I feel after drinking is huge even if I didn't do anything that bad. just get blackout every time. in therapy im learning to handle my emotions better. and let go of old trauma. Im realising all my resentments and working through them! if it wasn't for therapy I don't think I could even write this.
I can see myself becoming just like my mother if things don't change. I will end the cycle. im just learning to sit with all the ugly truths about myself that are my defence mechanisms from trauma.
its okay to not be okay. people will still love me even if I have emotions. not everything will result in abandonment.
thank you for taking the time to read my story.

My parents were strict growing up. In particular, my sister and I had a tightly enforced curfew - no going out after 6PM. As a homebody who preferred to read in my room, I didn't mind much.
My older sister Jasmine hated it. She misbehaved frequently, stayed out late and made friends our parents didn't approve of. Dad would lock her in the house when she came back from school, and she would throw ear splitting tantrums that gave everyone headaches. The more they tried to control her, the more she rebelled, until she became an absolute menace. We fought a lot too - she spat in my food at the dinner table, and I pulled her hair in return. My parents would scream at her to stop and stand in the corner for an hour as punishment. They threatened that if her behavior continued, they would send her away to a boarding school for difficult children, where the punishments wouldn't be as kind.
The final straw came when I was ten and Jasmine was fourteen. Mom found a pack of cigarettes in Jasmine's room. She came to us at the dinner table.
"Jasmine," she said calmly, holding up the pack. "What is this?"
I saw the color drain from Jasmine's face. She'd gotten them from an older boy at school. Her expression cycled through fear, dread, denial then rage in a few seconds. A violent argument broke out.
"Fuck you!" She screamed, "They're mine and you bet I'm gonna smoke them! You can't fucking tell me what to do!"
My parents decided it was time to play their final card. It was boarding school, or getting disowned and put up for adoption. They had enough, and as she was becoming older, taller and more violent, they were starting to become concerned for the family's safety. She had little choice, and a month later, dad took her on a flight to the boarding school. I don't remember many details about it from listening to their conversations. I just picked up the fact that it was in a hilly area in a far away state, and they took discipline seriously there. No technology, makeup or drugs were allowed, there was a strict daily schedule beginning at 5AM and ending at 9AM sharp, and those who broke the rules were served their just desserts.
"See ya in fifty years," I taunted, "enjoy being a nun."
She stuck her tongue out at me and flipped me the middle finger. She disappeared, and the front door slammed shut.
The home was much quieter thereafter. I liked it at first. No more fighting over stuff and screaming around the house. But over time, it got lonely, especially on the evenings and weekends. I now felt like an only child.
Despite our differences, Jas and I did have a few good laughs over dumb Youtube videos on the odd occasion. Three months had passed since she had left, but the entire time I never heard my parents call Jas or the school for updates. I asked about Jas a couple times after a few months.
"Is she coming back?" I asked.
"Of course, dear. She's there for a year, so she'll be back when the school year ends," she replied.
The year droned on, and half a year passed in a blink. I started taking violin lessons, and my parents even extended the curfew to let me attend late night school events. It helped me make some more friends, and the extension allowed me to stay at their houses, as long as my parents approved of them. Being accustomed to restrictions for my whole life, those allowances were a breath of fresh air. Still, I was alone in my room most of the time, and the house felt empty.
I came home from school one day and both my parents were still at work. As I went to my room and set my things down, I heard the home phone ringing from downstairs.
Taking off my coat as I walked down the stairs, I went to answer it.
"Hello?"
"HELP ME! HELP!" A shrill voice shrieked from the other end. All the hairs on the back of my neck stood up instantly as soon as I heard it, and my heart rate began to accelerate. I held the phone a little further from my ear.
"Jas?" I asked.
"Harry," she sobbed, a terrified urgency in her voice, "I need help, please. Where's mom and dad?"
"They're at work," I replied.
"Harry, I'm sorry." Her voice became quieter. "I'm sorry I spat in your vegetables. I'm sorry I called you a dumbass. Tell mom and dad I'm sorry I gave them hell. They didn't deserve all of that. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you guys, I swear."
"I know, Jas," I said, concerned, "but what's going on?"
"Oh my God, they're coming," she whimpered, "they're gonna get me, I can't run anymore. Fuck…"
I heard a loud smash and commotion on the other side, and screaming erupted from the other end of the line. Ear piercing screams that could've shattered glass. They became more intense but quieter, as if she was being dragged away from the receiver.
"No, NO! PLEASE DON'T! HELP!"
The line hung up.
Shaking, I called mom and dad immediately. When they came home, I explained what happened and thought Jas was in serious danger. Mom hurriedly called the school, and the woman on the other end explained that Jas had a tantrum earlier, but was otherwise fine and didn't want to speak to her. She took that as sufficient, and hung up. I pressed her a little, but that pissed her off.
"It's just one of her tantrums, and she's being dealt with. She's getting the help she needs. I don't want to hear you mention it again, Harry."
I never recalled Jas apologizing during a tantrum. Before then, she had never apologized once in her life. It was very out of character. I knew something wasn't right, but I couldn't do anything about it. I tried calling the unknown number back from the home phone a couple of times when my parents weren't at home, but to no avail. Three months passed. Some nights I would wake up drenched in sweat, screams ringing in my ears.
The end of the school year came, and I thought it was time for Jasmine to return home. I asked dad about her.
"They've said she's making really good progress, so she's going to stay for a few more years," he beamed.
"How do you know she's even alive?" I asked.
"What kind of question is that?" He laughed. "She spoke to us herself, sounded like she'd grown up a lot over the past year."
She didn't come back home.
Over time, I grew accustomed to being alone. Mom and dad never talked about Jas again. They acted as if she never existed, and for some reason, I never dared to ask. Perhaps I would've forgotten I ever had a sister, if it weren't for the periodic nightmares of that phone call which returned to haunt me every few weeks. When I turned eighteen, I moved out and went to college. As soon as I left home, the nightmares returned with a vengeance, revisiting almost every night.
Back when I was ten, after mom had called the boarding school following the horrific phone call, she left her phone on the kitchen table and I saw the number. I didn't note it down, but it was one of those that was easy to remember. I specifically remember thinking it was odd that a number had such a long string of fives.
One night in my dorm, I tried to recall the number, typing several possible combinations into my phone keypad and tapping the call button. After a few invalid attempts, I was surprised to finally get through to someone.
"Hello, this is the boarding school reception," A voice came from the other end. Bingo.
"Hi there, I'd like to ask about a student who once attended your school, her name is Jasmine Collins."
There was a pause.
"What is your relation to this student?"
"I'm her brother. She attended the school about eight or nine years ago, and I haven't seen her since. Just wanted to know if you knew where she graduated to."
"I'll search the records."
"Thank you," I said. After a few minutes, she piped up again.
"Apologies, there are no records matching this name."
"Are you sure?" I frowned, "It's J-a-s-m-i-n-e C-o-l-l-i-n-s." I spelt it out.
"Nope, nothing in our system."
Silence. I grew frustrated.
"Listen," I growled quietly, "I know something happened to my sister while she was at your school. If you don't tell me exactly where she is right now, I'm going to involve the police."
"Sir, we do not appreciate unfounded accusations or threats. if you like, I can do a second search, but if nothing comes up there isn't much I can help with," she said.
"J-a-s-m-i-n-e C-o-l-l-i-n-s," I repeated, "do it."
Two minutes passed.
"My sincerest apologies," said the woman on the other end, "I indeed misspelt the name. Miss Collins was a student here until she turned eighteen. She was discharged thereafter. Would you like the address?"
A wave of relief ran through me, and my racing pulse began to ease.
"Yes please, thank you."
She gave me an address in Pennsylvania. The following Friday evening, I took a flight over and made my way to the location. It was a wide two-storey building in the middle of a well kept garden. Colorful, well trimmed rose bushes and plots of tulips lined the perimeter. There was a small fountain on the path that led up to the main entrance of the building. I expected it to be a house or block of apartments, and double-checked that the address was correct, which it was.
I walked into a reception area. Glass panels surrounded by wooden frames made up one of the walls, with a door leading to a corridor. A blonde lady was sitting at a desk, and some elderly people were talking in the corridor. There was a colorful poster on the wall.
'Celebrating our care home's 40th anniversary. Come join us for cake!'
Care home? I thought to myself, confused.
"Hi there," said the woman at the desk, in a cheery tone.
"Hello, I'm looking for my sister, someone told me she would be here."
"Name?" She asked.
"Jasmine Collins?"
She typed it, and clicked.
"Take a seat, I won't be two seconds."
She descended down the corridor, and returned a few moments later, pushing a wheelchair with someone on it. My eyes widened as she came closer.
The woman in the wheelchair had big bulging eyes, with pupils that pointed away from each other absently, and a crooked neck slanting uncomfortably to the right. Her arms and legs rested limp, feet bent in an uncomfortable position. Her thin, brittle brown hair hung from her scalp, which housed specks of dandruff. Her limbs were stick thin, but her midsection bulged slightly. She sat almost motionless as she was pushed towards me, apart from her chest, which rose as she gasped in breaths of air. A drip of saliva ran down from the side of her open mouth. She wore a pink shirt that said 'Mondays' and a blue flowery dress. There was a cannula and dressing on her left arm, and a yellow feeding tube came out of her right nostril, taped to the side of her face.
The blonde lady brought her in front of me, then flipped the brake on the wheelchair. She crouched down next to it, and stroked the woman's sparse strands of hair.
"Say hello, Jasmine," she said softly.
The woman in the wheelchair let out a long groan. I stared in disbelief, horrified.
"What happened to her?" I choked.
"She was admitted to us a few years ago, before I started working here," explained the blonde lady. "I heard she contracted bacterial meningitis at another residence, and got brain damage as a result."
"No," I said, shaking my head, my voice trembling.
"This isn't right," I continued, "something very bad has happened to her. How did she get here? Can you check the records?"
"Well, before I started working here, this place had paper records. Some of them got lost, hers was one of them, but what the staff at the time could remember was transcribed onto the new electronic system."
She reached over the desk and flipped the computer monitor around.
"Her notes here just say she was admitted at age eighteen having suffered brain damage after contracting meningitis as a teenager, and presented as quadriplegic with greatly reduced cognition and speech. She had a medical exam on admission, which confirmed this. No suspicious circumstances were reported."
"Where was she brought here from?" I asked in a panic, trying to read the text on the screen. "And by who?" The lady looked at the screen and scrolled down.
"Doesn't say," she said.
"Is that all you can find? Everything?"
She nodded. I stared for what seemed like hours, and finally broke out of my trance.
"Thank you," I croaked, rattled.
I took the handles of the wheelchair and unlocked the brake, wheeling it and the woman outside into the garden area, down the path leading to the front doors and past the fountain. I eventually stopped beside a far away bench. I sat down, still light headed.
It was a bright, sunny day. Children walked hand in hand with their elderly and disabled relatives along the green grass, admiring the roses. Some families were having picnics in the distance. A cool breeze swept by, the sound of water flowing like white noise in the background.
I looked in the woman's eyes, trying to find my sister locked inside. Her gaze shifted to meet mine. I could see in her eyes that she desperately wanted to tell me something.
"What did they do to you?" I whispered. She just stared at me, unblinking. A single tear ran down her left cheek.
When I returned to my dorm, I was angry. I wanted answers, and picked up the phone to dial mom and dad's house and ask them what they had done. Perhaps I should even call the police first, I thought, pacing up and down my room for hours, thinking about who to call and what I would say. Then I sat down on my bed, as a realization came over me.
Mom and dad had been good to me. Mom had been diagnosed with breast cancer just before I left for college, and seemed to be fighting a losing battle. Dad had lost my grandparents on his side, and was also slowly losing his eyesight. Their marriage wasn't doing too well, but they had somehow stuck it through for the family. Did I really want to do this to them now? I thought back to when I had asked dad if Jas was coming home.
"She spoke to us herself…"
I pondered what I should do next for days upon days, and I came to the conclusion of… nothing.
Call me a bad person, call me a coward, call me selfish. Believe me, I badly wanted answers to what the hell happened in that boarding school.
I just didn't want to lose anyone else.
I went to PA to visit Jas every college break, pushing her in her wheelchair down the pathways in the park surrounding the care home. Eventually, I graduated and my fiancée and got our own place. After we had settled in somewhat, we brought Jas back from the care home to live with us. I knew it we were taking on a big commitment, especially as we were planning to have a family in the near future, but somehow I felt like I owed it. My fiancée Marielle is an absolute star. She was an accountant who mostly worked from home and was happy to accommodate, which is more than most would do for a partner. Marielle even helped prepare Jas' nutrition at home, which we fed her through the NG tube, and other aspects of her care.
I came home from work one day.
"Welcome back babe," chirped Marielle. I kissed her and hung my coat up behind the door.
"How was your day?" I asked.
"Decent, same old. Did some work in the morning," she replied, "in the afternoon, I took Jas out on a walk along the river. I think… she tried to say something."
"Jas tried to speak?" I asked, intrigued.
"I think so. I listened closely, and she kept repeating something. It sounded like…" Marielle did an impression.
"Harry? Was she trying to say my name?"
She pondered for a second.
"No, I think it sounded more like, 'sorry'."

My brother has a 2004 Lexus GX470 with the navigation head unit in it. He really wants an apple carplay compatible head unit but apparently the HVAC wiring and electronics are in the navigation head unit so theres no way of getting him a new one without introducing a whole bunch of new headaches.
Are there any solid tablets out there that are apple carplay compatible and plug in through a cigarette lighter and aux cord? What do you guys run in your builds? Any info or help would be appreciated.