To start of, I would like to acknowledge that I am a bad person, evil maybe. Second, if I could do it a second time, I would.
I, 33M did something which caused my wife(32F) to have a mental breakdown and perform certain actions which sent her to the emergency ward of the hospital.
People usually have "a second spouse" but in my case, she is my "spouse for a second time". We had been dating since last year of highschool and actually got married while attending university, at the age of (21M,20F). Why? Because being the only child and successor to my parents business, the only reason I aimed for a university degree (business one) was for the sake of that title. Wife on the other hand, got a technical degree but still wanted to be a SAHW, eventually SAHM, as it would work out for us in the long run financially speaking.
After university, we still did not plan to have children so I actively asked her to get a job or a part time one in the meantime to get out of the house atleast. The second reason being to prove her sister (31F) wrong.
You see, ever since they were little , my in laws pitted them against each other. Academically, socially and , as bad as it sounds, appearance wise. Yes, my sister in law is what one would consider a "conventional beauty" which was a sore point for my wife but, as they say, beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. I tried to always see what she failed to about herself. I always tried to affirm that she is indeed very beautiful, pretty and a fundamentally nice person and I would always love her unconditionally. It still could not overcome that fact that only I found her attractive like that and sister in law attracted and got hit on by men swarming like flies around... waste material.
The second point being that my in laws never showed much familial love towards my wife and so my wife wanted to be a SAHW/SAHM because she wanted to be there for family always, I respected that. However, with sister in law calling her a "leach" for choosing that path in life, angered me and thus I wanted her to try using her technical degree to work and gain experience. She opted to work outside my family business which was fine and understandable. This happened when we were 25M,,24F respectively.
Now, coming from a country which has few women in technical roles, my wife was the only woman in a team of 10. Those guys started hitting on her and her attitude completely changed. I was happy until I understood where that newfound confidence came from and then sat her down and explained the situation. For the first time in years, the way she responded back was something I will never be able to forget. The malice, the anger, that coldness. It was like I was talking to a completely different person. She accused me of being insecure, not trusting her and being jealous for the attention she is getting now. Then I did the stupidity of apologizing to her. Things were never the same.
I knew what role she worked in but for some surprising reason, within months of her joining the role, she had to stay late at nights frequently and was nominated for frequent business trips (something not part of her role but I never questioned). However, it kept eating me inside and I decided to spy on her. I looked through her phone and found texts between a colleague of hers. His name had a heart next to it but the texts were not found (deleted maybe). However, she forgot to delete her gallery and I saw provocative images, which obviously, I never received.
I tailed her to her office the next day and I saw she greeted a colleague of hers with a kiss (I had not been kissed or been shown any affection for the past 5 months at that point). It angered me but I got a lead. I hired a private investigator to tail them and waited for opportunities to catch any messages from her phone. Eventually I succeeded. I arranged all that evidence and invited both sets of parents, presented the evidence and intended to divorce. It was a terrible time in my life all around. And the reason she cheated.
"She got the attention from others, understood her worth and thought she did not have to be pinned down by me." Nothing I did, could do, could ever do, would ever matter. From me, the attention was a given, from others, it means they saw something I could not in her. And what was the point? Her sister , for all her faults, never acted like that. The guy she cheated on me with refused a committed relationship with her and moved away. Wife got fired. The efforts by her at that point and her in laws to consider forgiveness were relentless then on.
We still got divorced and I got my parents to take charge of the business for a while because I wanted to get away from all that mess. I went abroad, enrolled myself in a masters program, eventually got a job there because why not, and then quit said job to just travel around (yes, i'm your stereotypical spoiled rich brat so whatever).
2 years back, I returned home to take charge of the business (had to stop being a brat sometimes, love you mom and dad). During this while, I ran into my wife again. She looked changed, wanted to catch up and reminisce about the "good times". I don't know why, I was and still am attracted to her (will be much stranger when you hear what I actually did). I never dated anyone after the divorce and my wife did look like a changed person. With my parents and in laws being the intermediatory again, they urged me to reconsider a relationship with her. She had been to countless therapy sessions. Her parents , albeit late, understood their part in making her mental state a mess and it seemed like I would be in the wrong to not "forget a silly mistake made in youth". And you know what, being the sucker I am, I did date her again and got married a year back, (on the same date as my last marriage, to make it seem like the past never happened.
On to D-day, the anniversary date. A month prior, I was laying around and suddenly, I recalled the incident where she accused me of being insecure. I don't know why, it started to bother me. It angered me. I scared myself thinking how much malice I hold. I wanted to cause her pain. These vile thoughts took over me so badly that I eventually came to terms with them. I am a bad person. I am evil. I think anytime I acted nicely, I was merely putting up a face. And how did I get back at my wife? I got in bed with my sister in law in a compromising position (no , we did not do the deed), on the anniversary event at my place and made sure wife, in laws would catch us. Why did sister in law agree to this? She believed the change in my wife was superficial and given the right conditions, she will go back to her old self. No, I do not blame sister in law for anything. It was my plan, all the way.
And well, wife caught us in that position, we had to act surprised and she started wailing, having a panic attack, screaming, calling in laws and my parents who were also shocked at what they saw. In that craze , wife ran to the medicine cabinet and downed a whole bottle of aspirin.
She was rushed to the emergency room and my sister in law and I received abuses, slaps, curses etc from our parents but in all honesty, that was the worst they could do. I am an only child so my parents can't/won't disinherit me. My sister in law already lives independent from her family so she is not in trouble either.
I held a poker face throughout but inside, I had the most evil grin imaginable. I hurt my wife in the worst way I knew was possible. The worst part, If I could do it again I would. The worst part, I still love her. I am bad, I am crazy, I know I need therapy. But that is all.

Hello, I'm seeking advice on landing a CRC or CRA role in NYC. I graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Forensic Science (concentration in Chemistry and Physical Chemistry) last year and have been actively applying to various clinical research positions, including CRC, CRA, Study Coordinator, Research Associate, and Research Assistant.
Although I secured interviews with my top choices, Columbia Medical Center and Mount Sinai, I didn't have enough experience to pass the third round of interviews. I then worked as a laboratory assistant in pathology and hematology at a public hospital for seven months before transitioning to a medical assistant role at a private hospital. Unfortunately, I was laid off due to the clinic's closure.
Since May, I've been applying to the same types of jobs, but I'm facing rejection. I've also volunteered as a crisis counselor for the Crisis Text Line and hold a Phlebotomy and EKG certificate (obtained in 2021). As a first-generation individual with English as my second language, I would greatly appreciate any tips or guidance on breaking into the clinical research industry in NYC.
Thank you in advance for your advice and support!

I am not sure if this is the right platform for this - but I am feeling so alone, depressed and completely overwhelmed so I will give it a go. Apologies in advance: major trigger warning and long story ahead…
I fell pregnant 8 months after my gorgeous little girl was born, literally a month after I stopped breastfeeding. My first pregnancy was so chill - no sickness, no stress - the only hiccup was the birth itself (I was sick so between each contraction I was physically ill) but luckily it only lasted 5 hours and after 13 minutes pushing my little girl was here. The decision to have a second was a no brainer - I wanted my babies to be close in age (i have 4 siblings so having a big family was super important to me) and to be honest, I loved being pregnant. When I found out I was pregnant with my second I was so so SO happy. Over the moon in fact. My second pregnancy wasn’t so easy - during my first delivery there had been a perforation in my placenta and there had been a blood contamination between my girl and I - so I had to go for blood tests every 4 weeks as I could have essentially poisoned my own child. It could’ve affected so many things - but it didn’t. He was so strong. I slipped on ice one day (7 months pregnant) and had to be rushed to the hospital - and still - my little boy fought with every fibre of his being. He was my little warrior. He was due on April 25th - but was born 3 weeks early. My delivery was a dream. I was completely aware, in control and relaxed and it lasted 2 hours all in. No epidural, no gas and air - only a bath and my partner. My midwives were incredible - and after 2 minutes pushing my boy was here. Unfortunately - the labour was so quick he didn’t have time to properly use his lungs so he was taken to Neo natal care to give him extra oxygen. But he was a fighter. He got through it and within 3 days we were back home.
I look back now and feel so angry with myself. I was so so cocky. “We got this - we know what we are doing”. 1 month ago my in laws came to meet our baby - we had the best time ever, went for lunch, enjoyed the spring sun and in the evening enjoyed a sneaky barbecue. My partner and I were doing shifts - in that I would breastfeed, go upstairs to bed for 3 hours while he stayed downstairs with the baby and then we would switch. That night, I woke up at 2 am to my baby crying. I heard my partner get up to make him a bottle and thought - great; I can sleep a little bit longer. At 3:30 I awoke to the absolute feeling of dread. I knew something was wrong. I have never felt fear like that in my life … I told myself I was being dramatic - I must’ve just had a nightmare and that’s why my heart was pounding out of my chest. I came downstairs to go to the toilet, checked the crib and my darling boy wasn’t there. Checked my partner who had fallen asleep on the sofa and didn’t see him. Woke him up screaming and realised that my baby was there, white - pale; and limp. Called the ambulance and performed CPR while my partner screamed and cried. But he was gone - I knew he was gone. But they did everything. A group of over 20 people fought so hard to resuscitate my baby - and 3 hours later they told me that he was gone. My beautiful boy would’ve been two months old yesterday - and right now I am just so angry. The doctors told us it was SIDS, but I can’t help but ask myself what if I’d have been there? What if I had gotten up instead of being lazy and sleeping an extra hour to feed my child? Would it have still happened? Or would I just be here talking about a whole other type of grief?
We are both currently in therapy; and it’s only just now starting to hit me that my baby boy is gone. I am so so angry. I don’t know how I am going to get through this - but we are so lucky to have our darling little girl who bring us joy and love every single day.
Sending so much love to all mamas out there 🤍

(F27) Looking for some advice as a Canadian citizen looking to possibly relocate to the U.S. to work as a new graduate Registered Nurse.
I was born and raised in southern Ontario and currently live in a small town. I love living here but the cost of living is becoming almost impossible to afford to buy a house, start a family, etc.
I was just offered my dream job here in Ontario. It is a full-time position in an area of nursing that I’m passionate about, but it’s not an area where I’ll be using a lot of “hands on” nursing skills.
I have also been offered a position in a nurse residency program in Fort Wayne, Indiana in med-surg. Keep in mind, I’ve never visited Indiana but have visited other states and love the U.S. and have dreamt of living here/working here as an RN once I graduated.
I think the residency program would be great for me as a new graduate, trying to gain some confidence in my nursing skills. I didn’t get any hospital clinicals throughout my RN program so I’m really lacking confidence and critical thinking skills. The hospital also offers relocation assistance, sign on bonus, tuition reimbursement, etc.
Alot of my family and friends have encouraged me to move to the states once I have my RN because of the pay, quality of life, etc. However, I’m really torn because I know it would be a big leap to move out of my comfort zone and walk away from a dream job to an area of uncertainty.
Anyone else been in this situation or have any advice/suggestions?

(F27) Looking for some advice as a Canadian citizen looking to possibly relocate to the U.S. to work as a new graduate Registered Nurse.
I was born and raised in southern Ontario and currently live in a small town. I love living here but the cost of living is becoming almost impossible to afford to buy a house, start a family, etc.
I was just offered my dream job here in Ontario. It is a full-time position in an area of nursing that I’m passionate about, but it’s not an area where I’ll be using a lot of “hands on” nursing skills.
I have also been offered a position in a nurse residency program in Fort Wayne, Indiana in med-surg. Keep in mind, I’ve never visited Indiana but have visited other states and love the U.S. and have dreamt of living here/working here as an RN once I graduated.
I think the residency program would be great for me as a new graduate, trying to gain some confidence in my nursing skills. I didn’t get any hospital clinicals throughout my RN program so I’m really lacking confidence and critical thinking skills. The hospital also offers relocation assistance, sign on bonus, tuition reimbursement, etc.
Alot of my family and friends have encouraged me to move to the states once I have my RN because of the pay, quality of life, etc. However, I’m really torn because I know it would be a big leap to move out of my comfort zone and walk away from a dream job to an area of uncertainty.
Anyone else been in this situation or have any advice/suggestions?

(F27) Looking for some advice as a Canadian citizen looking to possibly relocate to the U.S. to work as a new graduate Registered Nurse.
I was born and raised in southern Ontario and currently live in a small town. I love living here but the cost of living is becoming almost impossible to afford to buy a house, start a family, etc.
I was just offered my dream job here in Ontario. It is a full-time position in an area of nursing that I’m passionate about, but it’s not an area where I’ll be using a lot of “hands on” nursing skills.
I have also been offered a position in a nurse residency program in Fort Wayne, Indiana in med-surg. Keep in mind, I’ve never visited Indiana but have visited other states and love the U.S. and have dreamt of living here/working here as an RN once I graduated.
I think the residency program would be great for me as a new graduate, trying to gain some confidence in my nursing skills. I didn’t get any hospital clinicals throughout my RN program so I’m really lacking confidence and critical thinking skills. The hospital also offers relocation assistance, sign on bonus, tuition reimbursement, etc.
Alot of my family and friends have encouraged me to move to the states once I have my RN because of the pay, quality of life, etc. However, I’m really torn because I know it would be a big leap to move out of my comfort zone and walk away from a dream job to an area of uncertainty.
Anyone else been in this situation or have any advice/suggestions?

(F27) Looking for some advice as a Canadian citizen looking to possibly relocate to the U.S. to work as a new graduate Registered Nurse.
I was born and raised in southern Ontario and currently live in a small town. I love living here but the cost of living is becoming almost impossible to afford to buy a house, start a family, etc.
I was just offered my dream job here in Ontario. It is a full-time position in an area of nursing that I’m passionate about, but it’s not an area where I’ll be using a lot of “hands on” nursing skills.
I have also been offered a position in a nurse residency program in Fort Wayne, Indiana in med-surg. Keep in mind, I’ve never visited Indiana but have visited other states and love the U.S. and have dreamt of living here/working here as an RN once I graduated.
I think the residency program would be great for me as a new graduate, trying to gain some confidence in my nursing skills. I didn’t get any hospital clinicals throughout my RN program so I’m really lacking confidence and critical thinking skills. The hospital also offers relocation assistance, sign on bonus, tuition reimbursement, etc.
Alot of my family and friends have encouraged me to move to the states once I have my RN because of the pay, quality of life, etc. However, I’m really torn because I know it would be a big leap to move out of my comfort zone and walk away from a dream job to an area of uncertainty.
Anyone else been in this situation or have any advice/suggestions?

Content warning: Contains mental health issues and physical violence.
The world breaks like glass, shattered as the world disappears into a black void. Embodiment of the soul floats in idle as shattered glass falls slower. It’s a shame, for souls to have lost their way but can still function. A blare bursts out from a black clock, soon to come at a silence from the smack of a button.
I wake up in a daze, accompanied by the sound of light rain getting caught by my bedroom window. I realize no other sound is made; my house falls silent. How unusual for morning hours. I get up from my bed, grabbing a set of clothes from my closet. Then, the realization hit once I hear my little sister’s muffled cry in a separate room, next to mine. “Right, my mother has died, how could I be so forgetful.”
June 7th, 2024, was the mark of my mother’s death. That night’s incident came at a flash. Me and my mother were walking on a familiar route. We were on a sidewalk with a silver railing attached on the opposing side of the black covered roads. During our walk, we discussed about my future while returning home with our groceries. Clouds were turning dark, so we sped up.
Then, a figure, that I can’t identify, came to me and my mother with a knife. This person kept going at my mother, enchasing their knife with blood. But why? Even when I landed jabs at this person, they wouldn’t stop stabbing my mother. After about five minutes of trading hits, this person ran away, dropping their blood filled knife, marking a path like a skipping rock. My mother sustained crucial damage and had a look of disappointment as I came to wrap her wounds and held her. In an immediate decision, I called for help on my phone. Rain started to settle, mixing with the blood of my mother’s body. As more blood exits her body, the more her heart rate diminished. Within a few moments, I was holding a corpse. Ambulance didn’t arrive on time.
A void started to close around me, leaving out all reality, and that was the last moment I could remember.
“That’ll be all for today, Mr. Mason. Thank you for telling us all the information from last night, we’ll be contacting you soon after we investigate this situation. You’re free to leave.” I exit out the interrogation after a brief amount of time, recollecting everything that has happened. My sister waited for me outside the room.
“Do you think they will be able to find the murderer?” My little sister has been tearing up for three hours, devastated from the loss of our mother. You could tell by her distressed look.
“Yes, don’t worry. We will be protected from this murderer.” I knew she would be worried about the murderer getting us next, though I am unsure if that is true. The murderer had one target last night, my mother in this instance, however I never understood the reason why. Did she have a debt overdue to a suspicious organization? Whatever the case, our family is in hot shit, and we need to protect ourselves.
“Are you sure, big brother?”
“Yes, let’s leave now, Julie. Come on, grab my hand.” We exit the stone building, having a few eyes following us as we left. As we step foot outside, rain welcomes us. Clouds are still darker than usual, longer than anticipated. We walk at a slow pace, my sister grabbing on to the wet silver railings as we pass the same street of last night’s incident. “The investigators are going to examine the knife tonight.”
“Will they be able to find the murderer soon, then?” There is a bit of an energy boost as she hears the news but is held back with grief once again.
“Yeah, possibility tonight. They will give me a call if they find anything.” My sister looks back to the ground in response.
We arrive home after a slow silent trip, knocking our shoes off towards the wooden shoe rack. “I’ll prepare lunch.” I grab some bread, cut two slices of tomato, cut some lettuce and prepare to cook bacon. I place two black pans on to the four heated stove, toasting bread on one pan, and placing bacon on the other. After a few minutes of flipping the bread and checking the bacon, I prepare to make our BLTs. I place our BLTs on our wooden family table. “Julie! Lunch is ready.”
We both sit in silence, eating our BLTs. Eating without our mother makes the family table seem pointless to attend, but we act as if she is still with us. Finishing our plates, I get up and head to my room to do my own investigation. “Julie, I am going to be busy for a while, okay?”
“Okay.” My sister has created a wall.
I get into my room, shutting the door behind me. I turn on my idle computer to wake from its slumber, soon followed by my monitor. Illuminating my face with light blue, I enter in my password and start searching the web for the location of the murder. There are a few articles about similar incidents happening, some dating back to recent months, the earliest being from a month ago, May 4th, 2024. Digging deeper into the articles, I discover about one man in particular, a tall black male that is about 6’4”, middle aged.
I research this man for about the second half of the day, coming to a realization that I haven’t made dinner yet. I open my door and make way to my living room, where I hear a news channel running on television. My sister is bundled up with her white bunny plushie, watching the news about our mother’s death. I look out a window, noticing a black void, and soon is followed by the same black figure climbing into the front window of my house, going straight for my sister. I lunge forward to the black figure, wrestling it, trading punches on the floor. My sister is screaming throughout the whole fight, but soon is silenced as the figure escapes my grasp and stabs my sister multiple times. I try to grab and strangle the figure, but the figure escapes by jumping out my window, dropping their knife once again.
I sit in silence, staring at the body of my sister, blood spilling out as she loses colour. “Why does this have to happen?” Void closes in on me once again, reality vanishing right before my eyes.
I wake up in an unfamiliar place, I am in a falling position, but I am not falling from anywhere. There is broken glass all around me. I look around and notice a figure, and it spoke, “Welcome back, how’s life?”
“Who are you? Where am I?” I am frightened by this event.
“Well, I am you, don’t you remember?” The area around us turned to a bright light, illumining the area. I am soon faced with the figure, and I realize the body is similar to the murderer going after my family.
“What sick joke is this? Why are you after my family?” My anger rises, still frightened.
“You mean, why are you going after your own family? You are the one killing off everyone you have left, don’t you remember?”
I step forward to the figure, but soon wake up in a hospital bed. “Must’ve been a dream, I guess.”
“Mr. Mason! Are you okay? Are you feeling well? You were knocked out in your home, along with your sister.” I am in a daze, feeling drained from waking up.
“Yes, I am okay. Is my sister alright?” I panic to await a response, hoping that my sister did not die that night.
“She’s alive, but in critical condition. You have been knocked out for a week, and the investigation has come to a finish. The investigators would like to speak to you whenever you’re ready.”
“Thank you.” I am filled with hope after hearing all the news. I lay in bed for a few more hours to recover and rethink everything. Feeling ready, I arise from my hospital bed and take a tour around the hospital to find my sister’s room.
I step into the room, looking at my sister. Then a doctor comes up to me and says, “She’s still unconscious, but her vital signs are active. We’ll update you if there is any change to her condition.”
“Thank you.” Before heading out of my sister’s hospital room, two older men step into the room and come up to me.
“Mr. Mason? We’d like to speak with you about the recent incidents. Come with us to the police station.” I am so close to finding out who this murderer is. Before heading out of the hospital, I sign some documents to update my records. The two are patient with me.
“Alright, I am ready to leave.” I drop the pen and walk out the main doors with the two men. They guide me to their four seated black car, and gesture me to go into the back of the car. For all of the ride, we kept silent as we headed towards the local police station.
“We have arrived. Let’s go inside.” The three of us get up, stepping foot into the same stone building I was in a week ago. Inside the building, we head for the interrogation room, a different one from last time. The room didn’t look so different itself, but the location is different. This time, a policeman is attending this meeting. I didn’t question the reason.
“So, we came to a conclusion of who murdered Jane and Julie Smith. It took a long time to verify the information as it came to a shock to the whole investigation team. After examining the two knives that the murderer left on scene, the system came to one person. That person would be you, Mason Smith.” I am confused by the results as the man spoke his words, but before I could speak, the other man speaks.
“Mason, we bring you here today to ask a few questions. In case you get violent, we have this police officer here to assist the situation.” My anger starts to fuel.
“How could this be possible? I saw the man myself! You must be framing me; I cannot trust you. In fact, I think you guys are the people involved with murdering my family.”
“Calm down, Mason. A witness from Witwerld Street sent us evidence of you stabbing your mother and beating yourself to a pulp. With the information tied together, we can assume you are the murderer in both cases. We’ll play the video for you.” I look at the video, seeing myself stab my own mother while punching my face.
“How could this be? This can’t be real.” I am in disbelief as I see myself holding my mother’s corpse, but soon am filled with sudden anger. “I see now. All of this is to get me, an incident citizen, into jail. What have I done to all of you guys to deserve this? Framing me with knives and now making a fake video?” In the corners of the room, black void appears.
“You can play this act up all you want, but you’re the murderer. Now, we can help you if you need it, but we need you to cooperate.
“Help me? You are digging me into the dirt right here!” I get up and try to leave the room but am pushed back to my chair by the back of a rifle.
“Stay in your seat!” The policeman is a mean guy. I stare into his eyes with anger, and notice the void growing at a quick pace, closing in on the policeman. The world is gone again. In a blink of an eye, I am faced with a broken mirror, seeing my own reflection. The area is filled with white all around.
“What is this. Why am I here?” I touch the mirror, and the shriek of broken glass responds to my ears as the area turns into a void. The mirror disappears, and soon the glass starts falling with me. After what felt like an hour, I am on my feet again. As I step foot, ripples of water respond. I start walking in a random direction, memories being showcased for a quick moment as I make a path.
“Oh, hey there. After all these years, you are here with me at last. Welcome back, Mason.” The familiar black figure that has been with me for this whole journey, has appeared. They are sitting on a white chair, cross legged. Droplets of rain appear, making a silent rhythm, and soon a flash of all my memories surround me, playing vivid loops of my life. Then, they disappear to the command of a snap from the black figure.
“Yes, I am back home.”
Note: I am not sure if I am able to post short stories here as there is no clear rule to it. However, based off my own judgement, it seems that it is acceptable. Anyway, I am looking for sources to upload my writings, and I ended up finding this subreddit. I would upload on Wattpad, but.. Yeah, I think I am good on that. My goal is to get additional feedback on my writing. I am currently in a creative writing class, but I want to practice further outside of that.

Mine?

Nebraska

Vs. Sac State (My Alum mater (Sac State) vs. my mom’s and my favorite school/team (Nebraska). Plus it would be fun to see Nebraska play Sac State at Sac State which is just an hour and 15 minute drive from my house.
Vs. Kansas (Every Nebraska fan is hung up on playing Oklahoma and/or Colorado every year but I really miss playing one of our oldest rivals. Also with Kansas being pretty good right now and us getting better, it should hopefully make for an excellent game.)
Vs. Navy (This is pretty much for the memes. Nebraska, the most landlocked state playing Navy is peak meme content. Also to add to this that the top civic honor in the state of Nebraska is called the “Nebraska Admiral” which just adds to the meme factor.)
Vs. Rutgers (Battle of the 2 scarlet colored B1G teams. I always call this game the “Scarlet Bowl”.)
Vs. Northwestern (The battle of the “NUs”. Also are games against each other always seem to be memorable in some way or an other.)
Vs. Michigan St. (I have always enjoyed playing Michigan St. It seems like our games are always memorable and entertaining to watch.)
Vs. Minnesota (Our biggest B1G rival before we ever joined the B1G and definitely our most organic rivalry with the fan-made $5 Bits of a Broken Chair Trophy being the center of it.)
Vs. Washington (I’d like to go visit Washington someday so this gives me an excuse to do so. Plus we have their old AD so this should make the game even more interesting.)
Vs. Penn St. (I love it when these 2 classic uniforms are on the same field at one given time. Plus this would be a nice challenging game for us and strengthen our strength of schedule.)
Vs. UCLA (I want revenge from my last trip to the Rose Bowl. Enough said.)
Vs. Wisconsin (Hopefully they make us wear ugly alternative jerseys again so we can beat you. We have to beat you all again someday… right!?)
Vs. Iowa (This one is simply unmovable at this point of time and the games are always extremely close. Basically our Colorado to the east but instead of throwing bottles at our team you all wave a children’s hospital.)

• OOC alternates:

UC Davis (I’d love to see Nebraska beat up on my Alum mater’s rivals. Also this is only an hour drive for me when they play at Davis.)
Cal/UC Berkley (Just an hour drive for me which would be great.)
Iowa St. (I’d love to have the chance to go 2-0 against P4 Iowa teams in a season but with my luck it would be 0-2. Also get to play an old BIG VIII rival which is a nice added bonus.)

I'm thinking of pursuing a relationship with someone who's physically disabled. They don't know I'm posting this, so I'm not going to go into too many specifics, but I wanted to reach out to the community and see if there is anything I should keep in mind.
I'm also disabled, but it is a mental and not a a physical ordeal for me. Just looking at me you really couldn't tell. It affects my life, but not the extent it effects theirs. I'm still able to have a job, drive a car and exist without significant assistance.
Cognitively we are at the same level and I enjoy talking to them and I find them beautiful, but I'm concerned I'll do something wrong. I'm also concerned about what the outside world will think, specifically my family and friends. I don't want them talking about my partner when I'm not there. I feel like I am fairly up to date on disability advocacy, it's not something everyone will understand and I don't know if that's fair to them.

Hi all, After reading a lot of post here recently, I kinda wanted to tell my story to give others perspective about treatment options. Obviously, this is MY story and everyone here is different. My experience will not be the same as yours, and I am not a doctor telling you to try these options. But I have had a lot done, and I think it might be helpful if people understand what they can try.
I appreciate everyone who reads even one section of this saga. I am happy to answer any questions that people might have. Again, this was my journey and these things might not be the best options for you. But I want to highlight that pain, itself, is not the disease. It is a symptom. Find doctors who will help you find the cause of it. Sometimes it's difficult to pinpoint the source of pain, but there are options to try different things.
Part 1: How it Started
In 2007 I was 17 years old. During the summer, I got a job working as a bus boy at a reception hall. One night, I was sweeping the floor, nothing different than normal, but I suddenly had intense shooting pain down my hip and leg just from the way I bent down to sweep. That was all it took to set me off on what would be a long life of pain.
I remember the sciatica being really bad during this period. My parents and I were taking care trips to look at colleges and sitting in a car was torture. At some point they told me to see a chiropractor so I started doing that on a pretty regular basis. I went to college in 2012 and continued to have pain. There was always constant pain but I would always have times when it was much worse and it was painful to even walk normally. I recall having my parents visit and I was limping all day because I couldn't extend my left leg out fully.
I continued to see a chiropractor in the area for maybe two or three of the years I was away at school. Chiropractor never really helped though. During one of the summer breaks, I went to a chiropractor who had this decompression machine that would literally strap you down and pull you apart in an attempt to relieve pressure. It never helped. I am pretty sure by this time I already had an MRI done that probably showed some level of lumbar herniation so I guess that is why I wanted to try that type of treatment.
Chiropractics is not a legitimate science. I hadn't realized this until later in college (I was a biomed major). Their theories on spinal health do not align with known medical science. Some chiropractor align more with real medical science, but a lot of them only believe what the area of chiropractics says. I strongly recommend NEVER seeing a chiropractor, especially if you have back pain. It could be dangerous.
Part 2: The First Surgery and More Treatments
So when I graduated from college in 2012, I sought out an orthopedic surgeon. We did more MRIs. I can't recall if we tried anything more conservative first, but I did end up having surgery with him in 2013. We did a microdiscectomy and hemilaminectomy on both L3-4 and L4-5. Recovery from this was about what you would expect. Lots of bed rest for maybe 6 weeks or so, but I recovered well and went to PT for a couple of months. I think the surgery was successful in treating a lot of the serious sciatica I was having. But I was still having some level of back pain months and months after. I was then seeing the pain management doctor at the same office as the surgeon, and we tried a LOT of different additional things. Facet joint injections specifically, trigger point injections, medications. Nothing ever helped. I still have this pain in my low back and it was difficult to bend over without bracing myself, and there were times when I would get sciatic pain but not nearly as bad as it was before the surgery.
At one point I went to a rheumatologist because the pain doctor did some blood work and found I was positive for a gene that is related to ankylosing spondylitis. I was never actually diagnosed with this, but we tried to medications (I think maybe methotrexate but I could be wrong). The rheumatologist ended up putting me on humira, which looking back was a odd decision without actually officially diagnosing me with anything. Humira is a monthly injection, and I think after two months, my pain actually got a lot worse, and I stopped taking it and never went back to him.
For the most part after this, I was just taking Tramadol an naproxen to deal with my pain. I was going to the gym and doing what I could, but often the gym would exacerbate my symptoms. It was just difficult to do anything without feeling weak and obviously, it definitely contributed to some depression.
Part 3: New Pain Doctors and Spinal Cord Stimulator
In 2016, I got a new job that brought me into NYC and I now had access to great insurance and a wide array of great doctors. I found a new pain management doctor and tried a lot of things with him. He put me on Nucynta at some point, which is a narcotic, though I would only take it when I had break through pain. Pretty quickly, only a couple months after in 2017, we decided to try a spinal cord stimulator since I had already tried all these other things with other doctors.
I had to see a neurologist who would be doing the actual implanting of the device. I also had to see a phsychiatrist to get I guess "mental" clearance that I was in sound mind to be making this decision about a medical device implant. Not sure if that was just for the insurance or something the doctors also require. Before doing a full implant, they actually do a test run. I guess I had gone under general anesthesia for this, but they implant the wires (explained more below) and the wires come out of my skin to an external device and all of that is taped down to my low back. They do this so that they can make sure you actually get relief from the device before all the time, energy, and money is spent doing the full implant. I had it for a couple weeks, and decided to move forward. They had to remove the wires from me and scheduled me for just a regular office visit, and I was thinking well how the heck are they removing these wires from me. Well, it was very easy. They literally just pulled the wires right out of my back. Didn't feel anything. It was wild.
I have a Nevro brand stimulator impanted inside me shortly after. Surgery and recovery were as you would expect. I don't thinm recovery was as long as my back surgery was. There is a little 1x1 inch square box that sits above my right glute, around where my waistband would sit. There are two sets of wires that run over my spine to the left side (so I can actually feel the wires right under my skin at this part) and then they go between my vertebral space and then all the way up my spinal canal to my thoracic area. At the end of the wires (aka "leads") there are several evenly spaced electrodes and these are the functional part of the device. From what I understand, they send small electrically pulses very rapidly against my spinal cord and the idea is that these electric signals will over power pain signals coming from below, effectively making my brain blind to sciatic pain. It came with a remote to change the settings and a charger that uses a wireless pad that you hold over the box to charge. I had to charge it ever two or three days. The technician from the company does the initial set up (they device doesn't operate until you are recovered from the procedure and see the technician at your next office visit, I believe). The technician will turn the device on wirelessly and play with the settings and ask you to tell them when you feel something as the increase the magnitude of the stimulation. When you feel it, it does feel like a little electric buzzing in your back. But you aren't supposed to feel it at all, so they the turn it down just below where you felt the sensation. The remote has a couple different programs that I could change through that the technician programs, I guess changes in the frequency of the pulsing or things like that. I could also increase and decrease the magnitude within a set range, but for the most part I never messed with any of the settings. Nevro has a care team that I can contact at any time with questions or concerns and they will follow up with me occasionally to see how I am doing.
Part 4: Life After the Stimulator
I always had the stimulator on, and always said that it did help alleviate the residual sciatic symptoms I had, but I still had this low back pain that wouldn't go away. I continued to see the pain management doctor and we tried so other things. More trigger point injections, medications, etc. He had me on what is called "Low dose naltrexone" which is essentially a very low dose of an existing drug, used off label for chronic pain. It had to be specially made at a compounding pharmacy because the dose you need isn't commercially available. I tried that for a couple months and can't say it helped. In fact, I think it made me very nauseous a lot of the time. I remember I had to stop drinking coffee at one point because the taste of it would make me feel queezy, and one or two times I ran to the bathroom because I felt like I was going to throw up. I decided to stop taking it.
After that, I mostly just lived with my stimulator and dealt with any pain I had (hadn't seen the doctor since 2020). I was going to the gym someone regularly at this point, but like before it would often increase my pain symptoms so I would need to take extended breaks from exercise.
Part 5: Recurrent Herniation
At the beginning of November 2023, I started to feel something new. I was starting to slowly get sciatic symptoms again and was having flashbacks of my symptoms when I was in college. I was starting to get sciatica in both legs, and my right foot would sometimes start going numb if I stood for too long. It was getting more and more severe. Within a few weeks, I had to stop commuting into work because the pain was getting so bad. I contacted my pain management doctor who I hadn't seen in years. Their office was telling me how since I hadn't been there in so long I had to be treated as a new patient and the first opening for a new patient was like 2 or 3 weeks out. I was pretty angry at them about this. I mean, this doctor did the implant of the medical device that I have...should that not exempt me from this rule? Its not like this was an appointment for an unrelated issue. Anyway, the first available appointment was with a different doctor, but I was desperate so I saw him. He was not helpful. I was basically begging for pain meds and he was like welllll the other doctor should really prescribe you something because he knows your case better. It was such a a waste of time.
About a week or two later I did in fact see my original doctor, and he had the Nevro technician come because he thought it could potentially be an issue with the device. The technician found that there was "impedence" on one of the leads, a couple of the electrodes weren't working as they should. So she did some adjustments to compensate for that. I have it a week or so, but that did not fix the problem at all. I stopped charging the stimulator altogether because it wasn't doing anything for me. I had to start using a cane to get around because if I was standing, I needed something to lean on so I didn't have to keep my back straight. It was getting very difficult.
The doctor had me get a regular CT done, because I cannot get an MRI due to the stimulator (the stimulator itself is actually MRI safe and I think most of them are not, but because of the issue with the electrodes, my Nevro care team told me I could not get an MRI). So I and the CT and I could see it myself. It was absolutely clear that there was a herniation at L4-L5. Clear as day. So I had a video call with the doctors assistance soon after and to my dismay, they suggested treatment was to get an epidural to reduce the pain. Here I am, knowing full well that my symptoms and the results of the MRI are definitely worthy of surgery, and they want to give me just an epidural. I asked her about surgery and she said something about not opting for surgery until exhausting other options. I said okay. After the call, I immediately reached out to my friend who worked at the Hospital for Special Surgery in NYC. She actually works with the director of Spinal Surgery. Immediately, I was in contact with him and his entire team and they moved quickly to get things moving. I regret not having reached out sooner.
Part 6: Prep for Second Surgery
So the first thing to do was get better imagining. Since the MRI was out of the question, I had to do something called a CT Myelogram. Oh boy this was not a fun diagnostic procedure.
You need to be accompanied to the appointment because they will be giving you some very light sedative. You are hooked up to an IV, and they bring you into a room with a special x-ray table that rotates so you can be either laying flat or raised up so you are nearly standing, and the X-rays can be taken from many different angles. The doctor there take a couple of initial scans to find the location where they go in. I am queezy just talking about it right now. What they need to do is inject contrast dye right into my spinal canal. An epidural goes AROUND your spinal canal, but for this they need to pierce the dura and go in.
So they do local anesthesia and then take quite a large needle and go in. It is painful because it is going so deep. But God, you can feel the piecing of the dura layer when the needle goes through. I immediately feel my body hating it. Then they inject the dye, and you can feel that sort of cold sensation spreading across your back. And then he takes the needle out. I start to get VERY hot and am about to pass out, so they put some ice on the bacm of my neck and give me a minute to come back down. They also gave me some IV zofran to help with nausea and some IV sedative for the pain Thankfully it passed. But that wasnt even the difficult part.
Next, they have to make sure the dye gets into all the crevices. So the doctor rotates the table to different angles and has you try and bend in specific ways. It was incredibly painful to do. When he had me in an almost standing position, and the pressure of the dye was increasing my leg pain beyond anything I had experienced so far. It was really difficult. But once they are satisfied with the X-ray that shows the dye has spread well, they send you to the CT scan. Once I was laying down again the pain subsided and I was feeling better. They did the CT scan and then rolled me back to the recovery room, and by the time I was back in there I was feels 100% back to normal and had no issues getting up and walking. So that was that.
The image results were very telling (gunna try and include them here or in a comment if I can). The point of this type of imaging is that the contract dye with spread anywhere that the CSF can go. You should be able to clearly see the space all around the spinal cord, and if there are spots where you don't see the dye, you will be able to see what is causing some problems. It was plain to see how severe this herniation was. It was compressing my spinal cord and pushing it all the way to the back of the spinal column.
So the doctor said we have two options. A microdiscectomy or a fusion. We decided to do a MD though I would be okay with a fusion. Well guess what, two days before the surgery the doctor changed his mind and said that after reviewing the imaging again the best course of action would be to do a fusion. I was very excited for that.
Part 7: The Fusion
So at the end of Feb 2024 I had my fusion done. It was your standard surgery, nothing too crazy. Recovery was tough though. Basically with a fusion, they take out the herniation and most of the disc and they put this rubbery block in there that contains bone graft. That is what is going to grow to fuse the two vertebrae, but that process can take a year to fully fuse the bones. So they put in four screws, two in each vertebrae, and join them together with rods. This holds the bones together completely so that they do not move independently. They are essentially fused at this point, but only with the rods.
For recovery, the first couple days were difficult, mostly trying to stand up from laying down because I had like no low back strength. The pain was also pretty constant so I was taking a lot of muscle relaxers and narcotics to help me stay asleep as much as possible.
The surgery area was quiet large. There were two large bandages and two small bandages and the entire area was covered in a large adhesive patch to keep everything clean and dry (it was also very orange from the iodine). So I could shower without worrying about it. Within two weeks I was moving around a lot better. I might have stopped using my cane at this point, though anything that required me to reach forward, like washing my hands at the sink, was difficult because it would require back strength. By 2 weeks, the bandage had because really really frustrating. The huge adhesive patch was causing my skin to become itchy and irritated, and I could see they I was starting to develop some red bumps like pimples underneath. Thankfully 2 weeks was the point I could remove it (after my first follow up call with the doctors team). So I took it off which was not easy. The whole area was soooo sticky, I tried to remove a lot of the stickiness with either rubbing alcohol, soap, or Vaseline. I was able to get a lot of it off but some stickiness still lasted for several days. There will tiny bandages over the incision sites that covered the stitches and those would eventually all fall off themselves. I had two larger scars at the top where they did most of the work of cutting out the disc and putting in the graft, and then two tiny scars lower down where I assume they put in the screws for the lower vertabrae. My back does not look pretty.
I started PT at four weeks was doing better but still had a weak back and was very cautious with my movements. Did PT for 12 weeks and made a lot of improvement. I was back to how I was. The fusion 100% fix the issues that this new herniation had caused, and it was such a relief to finally have a procedure that was totally effective. However, the back pain that I had already had for many many years was and is still there and I am still not certain what is causing it.
Part 8: Now
I am about 20 weeks out of surgery and am still doing great. I still do not use my stimulator and don't plan to, but having to get it removed would be a really huge pain. I have started to actually go to a gym again and life weights to stay active. I am mostly convinced that this low back pain I still have is really muscle related, caused by the years of instability, and that I can address it by strengthly my core muscles and following my PT exercises. I think a lot of these muscles issues, like trigger points, can mimic sciatic symptoms. Knowing what REAL sciatic symptoms feel like again, this pain doesn't feel like I have a herniation pushing on my nerves. So I am going forward with that in mind and trying to deal with this pain muscularly.
As for the fusion, I don't notice any new limitations in my movement. I avoid rubbing the area because I could feel the rods if I rub it hard enough. But I feel normal. I had a follow up with the doctor with another X-ray and everything looks great. I am hoping that this can be a turning point for me to really live as close to a pain free life as possible.

This will either be used to apply for internships or for a salesperson position during the summer. How is this resume?

What's this?: Each month in Doctor Who Magazine they have a column by Russell T Davies (formerly 'Letter from the Showrunner', before that 'Production Notes') - a column by someone involved in the production of Doctor Who, and normally in the form of either the showrunner writing pieces about writing Doctor Who or the showrunner answering reader-submitted questions. Because these pieces and questions have often been used as a source for blogs to write misleading stories, they started being typed up for /gallifrey.
Hey thanks for doing this! Now I don't have to buy it: Yes you do, otherwise you'll be missing out on: in-depth previews of the four episodes of the new series (73 Yards, Dot and Bubble, Rogue, The Legend of Ruby Sunday); an interview with Jonathan Groff (Rogue); behind-the-scenes set reports from Space Babies, The Devil's Chord and Boom; an interview with Steven Moffat; a feature on the script-to-screen process behind the effects in Space Babies; a deconstruction of "The Rescue"; the first part of DWM's Fifteenth Doctor comic-strip "The Hans of Fear"; reviews for all of this month's DVD/CD/Book releases and EVEN MORE.
It's available physically in shops and digitally via Pocketmags.com!
Want an archive of the previous Production Notes that have been posted on /gallifrey?: Follow this link.
I am writing this in New York! It's the Doctor Who press junket (definition of junket: a sweet milky pudding, or a promotional trip, discuss). This is how it works. We're put in a hotel, me, Ncuti, Millie, plus their agents, with fleets of publicists. We all have a chocolate TARDIS in our rooms, to welcome us! (And none of this comes out of the licence fee, don't worry.) Then an entire floor of the hotel is set aside; there's a room of food, which ends up untouched because we're so busy, plus rooms with cameras in, one for each of us. (You've seen these rooms on every bit of publicity made in the last 20 years, usually a dark curtain with the logo in the background, often with Alison Hammond nearby. I wish! We want Allison!) And there's another room where, for half an hour every day, Ncuti and Millie and me are brought together to face a zoomful of journalists, 20 faces in boxes, all staring at us. This is my least favourite half hour of the day; Ncuti and Millie look beautiful, I look like the Werthers Original Grandpa.
Then it's back to our individual rooms. I sit there, on camera. Sometimes a journalist will come to sit opposite me, but most appear on camera, from Spain, from Berlin, from Rio. And it's fast! The PR in charge tells them 'You have six minutes.' Once in a while, it's 'You have nine minutes' and I wonder what Faustian pact has gained them the extra time. Once a day, someone has 15 minutes and I think this must be a Pulitzer winner!
This amounts to, on average, 28 interviews every day. 48 if you include that zoom. Over three days that's 144. It's dizzying! The thing is: you're encouraged to repeat yourself. Or you'd go mad. No one has 144 different anecdotes. At the same time, you're encouraged to, as the PR speak has it, 'Bring your roses.' I hooted at that phrase, but I've come to like it. It means, give out gifts. Have certain stories that you can choose for each journalist; that's for you, that's for you, that's for you. And now and again, if you really like an interviewer: have the bunch!
It becomes a mad blur. I repeat. I forget I've repeated and repeat again. I act, I try to make every story sound new. Sometimes I lie. Sometimes I bait. An imp in my mind still wants to find 144 stories - isn't that my job?! - so while I talk, a searchlight in my head is sweeping those dark corners for treasures. I'm in a freefall of words and find myself saying things I haven't thought about for years. Lots of journalists ask about The Devil's Chord, how the expensive copyright on Beatles tracks inspired my idea to have Maestro taking music away, but then suddenly, one afternoon (is it afternoon? The windows are still curtained, we are cocooned) I find myself saying, "It's Peer Gynt." A pause. "Oh?" "Yes, it's Act IV of Peer Gynt, the tumbleweeds appear and tell Peter: We are the songs, you should have sung us. A thousand times, you stifled and strangled us. In the mine of your heart, we've lain and waited, we were never summoned. Curse you, curse you." A pause. A silence. Then. "So what was it like to work with Jinkx Monsoon?!"
But that's true, that's what inspired Maestro draining Timothy Drake's heart. Where do you get your ideas from? Ibsen! Somehow the blur of words has woken that fact from its hiding place.
On and on it goes, and it's knackering - though I'm not complaining, I love this stuff because I think it's important. We want Doctor Who in every headline across the world. So onwards, onwards!
Then suddenly, oh faithful DWM reader, it all comes full circle. Out of the blue, one journalist - I'm sorry, I can't remember, was it Eric? - finishes his six minutes. "Thank you, bye!" But then he says quickly, "I just wanted to say..."
Argh, hurry up, the switchover from one interviewer to another is fast! It's brutal! You're on a bobsleigh, Eric, you've got about eight seconds! What?!
"I just wanted to say thank you for your page in Doctor Who Magazine."
"Oh. Wait! What? This page?"
"If it wasn't for that, I wouldn't have got into journalism, I wouldn't be doing this job today."
"Really? Gosh! But how - ?"
"Well, because - "
Click!
"Hi, this is Amber from HotSpike in Chile! What was it like to work with Jinkx Monsoon?!"
Gone. Eric. If it was Eric. Goodbye.
But what a lovely thing to say. No one's ever said that before. And I reckon there's a chance that Eric might still be reading, so...
Thank you. Hugely. Thank you.
Onwards.
"Amber, we had so much fun! Like Ibsen says..."

I'm sorry for any and all spelling, grammar, sentences structure errors and this being one huge paragraph. Please excuse how this is typed up as I am doing this on my phone in an ER. Please be nice! I am beyond stressed and alone.
BACK STORY: I am a single mom(42F) of two(15F and 10F) and I am disable with no family, friends or support. My health started to go down hill in my 20s and at 28 years old I had to stop working because working was making me more sick and be in so much pain that I couldn't take care of my toddler at the time but my ex was somewhat there. It wasn't the best situation with him being an addict and abusive. I left and was trying to work a little for my dad and take care of her on my own but he "stopped using" and we got back together and about a year later we were expecting our 2nd daughter. That pregnancy destroyed me even more than the pregnancy with my oldest. I also learned that he never was truly clean. He had just gotten better at hiding it. Countless times over those couple years of my oldest would repeatedly ask "when is it going to be just me and you again and no daddy" (then it was while I was pregnant and after it was "when is it going to be just me, " my baby" (her baby sister) and you and no daddy") Finally a couple weeks at the youngest 1st birthday I left with my two girls but this was only after he came at my trying to choke me in front of our daughters. Our oldest ran between us to try and stop him before running out the front door in a T-shirt. My mom came over and she told my mom what had happened leaving to my mom calling my dad, my dad calling my uncle and we packed and left that night. That was nine years ago. Over the next nine years my health has only gotten worse as I was and am my kids everything and while I knew I couldn't work I did my best to be at everything. I went on field trips, volunteer, went to evey school activities, concerts, everything I was there for. Even while trying to be their everything my health kept taking more and more hits. By 2016 I needed to start using a cane, 2019 tols around a walker, 2020 a shower chair, 2023 a wheelchair but yet he could never be bothered. Wouldn't come to a concert because he had a doubt date with his girlfriend and his two roommates. Couldn't take them to a father daughter dance that he didn't even pay for a few years back for them all to go to together after our oldest asked him to take them. (I had paid for it so he could work on his relationship with them). For the longest time I kept pushing and pushing until a couple of years ago. Our court papers even state that when I am not able to care for them he is to take them but he can't be bothered even when my health lands me in the hospital like it has. When that happens I have to ask one of maybe 3 friends that I have. I have no family as all my family is more or less dead or no contact (I have two sisters left and we all are no contact with each other.) Over these years I have had so many specialists say that I needed to apply for Social Security but I only have 30 of the 40 credits needed for SSDI for if I get approved it will be SSI for low income disabled people and won't be much but will be something for my girls and me. I have never asked any thing more of him other than be a father and pay his child support but again he has done it.
Current issue: Well, as I am going through this process I have recently learned HE HAS YET AGAIN QUIT ANOTHER JOB. Has only been at this one since March but because they found him right away and they started taking the child support rather quickly he has already found it is time to quit. He likes to work for 3-12 months and quit within 2-6 months of them taking the court order child support. (The reason it is court order is because if his employers don't take it out he won't pay it no matter what and does this quitting game to try and get out of pay child support as long as possible until they find him again.) Now while I know that we have had only his child support helping us because of my health I haven't taken it lightly. So in 2021 I finally applied for SSI and currently this is a process and takes time. During this time we have no income coming in to help. I don't even have friends or family to share a GoFundMe for my kids and me. The social security only sees my age and not that I am a mom struggling to provide for my kids being disabled, that having mobility issues and unable to find employment I can do with my disabilities and illness, with being unable to really drive any more, with an arsenal of strong medicines having to be on board at all times and missing work a lot for doctors appointments, hospital stays and being stuck in bed at times. But with as sick as I am also still trying to go to college to learn different skills so I may be able to find employment that can work around my disabilities and illness. This doesn't come without its own struggles. My diagnosed illnesses are causing my education to take longer to get but I am still trying for my kids. So, with very little to no real support, it's just them and me fighting to keep our family together and our heads above water while trying to better our lives with an incurable diagnosis and I just don't know what to do anymore. No emotional, physical, mental or financial help and we are ablout to lose everything. I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO ANYMORE!

I’ve been going back and forth about nursing for about 3 years now.
I am a sucker for the human experience. I don’t know how to make this make sense to you. The nature of the nursing job fascinates me so much because you meet people at their most vulnerable. Your job isn’t to make save them from their problems you just cross paths with this person who are responsible to look after for a while. Or one time.
Whenever I research on it the forefront of the discourse is that it’s a really exhausting job. I know it is. And the path isn’t easy.
But something keeps me curious about it. My reasons for wanting to do the job are for the “human experience” aspect.
So that may beg the question “well there are tons of jobs where you can cross paths with different people” and 1. Those roles don’t appeal to me 2. In those roles your intuition is sorta commodified (therapy, teaching, social work). With nursing you cross paths with people, your job isn’t to be correct about your intuition and introspection and understand - your job is to just help them medically. In a pocket of the world that is closed off from the flow of society. At odd hours. Every day is different. This stuff appeals to me.
Hospice nursing and mental health nursing have appealed to me for a while. I also find the hospital environment endearing in a way I can’t explain.
I’m not sure if I want advice on whether I should go into it or not. Regardless I have 6 months to decide. Other careers come to mind often as well. I just wanted to rant to feel heard by an INFP who might understand where I’m coming from.
It’s a job that may give me a window into the life experience of others that other jobs may not. If I could have that in a job, wonderful. If I could have a job that’s tolerable and doesn’t give me this, also cool, but I don’t know what the latter would be.
There are many other jobs I can get this kind of experience in. I’m not sure what they all are and I’m trying to think about it. But something about nursing is just different. Midwifery appeals to me for similar reasons (but I don’t think I’d ever actually do it)

Uploaded 13 MITM scripts. Asked it to write two scripts: one with a prompt from me and one without.
My prompt:
Reese is a billionaire. Having not showered for a month in an attempt to force a girl to dump him, medical science discovered a cure for cancer inside the mould on his body.
He enjoys being petty and lauding his new success over everyone. Malcolm is assistant manager at Lucky Aide; Craig is his boss. Dewey has some success in music. Francis and Piama have many kids. One was killed after the rocket-powered stroller Malcolm built went haywire and crashed into Lucky aide. Hal is Reese's dogsbody at the mansion.
**INT. REESE'S MANSION - DAY**
*The mansion is lavish, but the family’s interactions bring out an absurd contrast. The living room is enormous, filled with expensive decor, and an oversized portrait of Reese hangs on the wall. Lois, now in her early 60s, is sitting on an opulent couch, knitting furiously. Hal, also in his early 60s, is polishing a chandelier awkwardly, occasionally muttering to himself.*
**LOIS**
Hal, if that chandelier sparkles any more, it’s going to blind someone.
**HAL**
(balancing on a ladder)
It’s Reese’s orders, Lois. He wants everything to shine, especially his ego.
*The door opens and Dewey, now 33 and dressed in a casual yet stylish outfit, walks in with a guitar case slung over his shoulder.*
DEWEY
Hey Mom, Dad. Just got back from my latest gig. The crowd actually knew the words to my songs this time.
LOIS
(smiling)
That's wonderful, Dewey. Maybe someday they'll spell your name right on the marquee.
HAL
(teasing)
Don't get your hopes up too high, son. Remember when they called you "Dewey Decimal"?
DEWEY
(sighing)
Yeah, that was a low point.
*Reese, 38, enters, wearing an outlandish designer suit. He’s holding a champagne glass and has an obnoxiously smug grin.*
**REESE**
Ah, the smell of success... and the faint scent of cancer-curing mold. How’s everyone doing in my mansion today?
**DEWEY**
(sighs)
We’re fine, Reese.
*Malcolm, 37, enters wearing a disheveled Lucky Aide uniform, looking defeated.*
**MALCOLM**
Assistant Manager Malcolm reporting for duty. Another day of stacking shelves and avoiding Craig’s motivational speeches.
**CRAIG (O.S.)**
(excitedly)
Malcolm, you're late! There are sales figures to review!
**CRAIG**
(enters, looking chipper)
Malcolm, you need to embody the Lucky Aide spirit! Which, coincidentally, is just like your soul – non-existent!
**MALCOLM**
(deadpan)
Good morning to you too, Craig.
*Francis, 42, enters with Piama, 39, followed by a gaggle of children. They look tired but resilient.*
**FRANCIS**
Hey everyone, the gang’s all here. I barely managed to wrangle the kids into the minivan without losing one.
**PIAMA**
(holding a baby)
Francis, we did lose one. Remember? Little Jamie.
**FRANCIS**
(clearly struggling)
Oh right, how could I forget. Thanks for the rocket-powered stroller, Malcolm.
**MALCOLM**
(muttering)
I was just trying to help...
**REESE**
(laughing)
That’s right! Malcolm’s bright idea to save energy by rocketing Jamie around. Talk about a crash course in parenting.
*Hal finishes polishing and descends the ladder, his back creaking audibly.*
**HAL**
(to Reese)
Is there anything else you need, Master Reese?
**REESE**
(smirking)
Just your dignity, Dad. Oh wait, I already have that hanging on the wall.
*He points to a framed piece of paper that says "Hal’s Dignity" in elaborate calligraphy. Francis tries to gather his children, who are running around the room causing chaos.*
**FRANCIS**
Kids, gather round! Uncle Reese has some... interesting stories about how not to become a complete sociopath.
**REESE**
(grinning)
Careful, Francis, or I might just buy your children and send them to a Swiss boarding school.
*Lois looks up from her knitting, her expression stern.*
**LOIS**
Reese, why don’t you show a little humility?
**REESE**
(mockingly)
Humility? That’s rich coming from the woman who terrorized us all with her iron fist. Remember, Mom, you raised me to be this way.
*Piama finally speaks up, trying to maintain some normalcy.*
**PIAMA**
Reese, why don’t you use some of your money to help Francis and me find a place of our own? This mansion is... a bit much.
**REESE**
(smirking)
Why would I do that? Watching you all squirm is the best entertainment my money can buy. Plus, it keeps you all under my thumb.
*The family looks at each other, a mix of resignation and frustration. Malcolm, trying to muster some hope, speaks up.*
**MALCOLM**
You know, Reese, money can’t buy happiness.
**REESE**
(grinning wider)
No, but it can buy a rocket-powered stroller. Right, Malcolm?
*The family doesn’t laugh. They just continue with their tasks, each of them silently dealing with their own absurd reality.*
REESE Oh, come on. You all are acting like I haven't earned this. Remember when I stopped showering for a month to force my girlfriend to dump me, and medical science found a cancer-curing mold on my body? Yeah, when you become a billionaire by accident, then we can talk about humility and charity.
LOIS (grimly) I still can't believe that's what made you rich. It's like the universe played a cruel joke on us.
HAL (to himself) And I’m the punchline...
Francis tries to calm down one of his screaming kids, who is running around the room with a toy sword.
FRANCIS (to the kid) Hey, buddy, maybe Uncle Reese can buy you a real sword next time.
PIAMA Francis, don't encourage him. The last thing we need is Reese arming the children.
REESE (laughing) Now there's an idea. A fully armed and operational battle station... of children.
Lois, unable to take it anymore, stands up and faces Reese directly.
LOIS Reese, this isn't funny. You're sitting on all this money, while the rest of us are struggling. Have a heart, for once in your life.
REESE (mock sympathy) Oh, I’m sorry, Mom. Did you want a loan? Maybe I could throw you a few million to ease your pain?
DEWEY (flatly) How generous of you, Reese. Maybe after you’re done pretending to care, you could actually do something helpful.
REESE (smirking) Ah, Dewey, always the moral compass. How’s that working out for you in the real world?
Malcolm finally speaks up, tired of Reese's constant gloating.
MALCOLM You know what, Reese? Enjoy it while it lasts. Because at the end of the day, you’re just as miserable as the rest of us. Money can’t fix everything.
REESE (leaning forward) Maybe not, but it sure makes it a hell of a lot more fun.
The family continues their tasks in silence, each of them dealing with their absurd lives. The camera pulls back, showing the entire family together, yet worlds apart.
NARRATOR (MALCOLM) (TC) And there it is. Twenty years later, and we’re still stuck in this crazy dynamic. But hey, at least we’re in it together. Even if together means living under the reign of King Reese.
Fade out as the family continues to interact, each dealing with their bizarre lives.
END.
This is the script ChatGPT generated with no prompts from me.
INT. FAMILY LIVING ROOM - DAY
The living room looks lived-in and somewhat cluttered, but there's an air of warmth. Lois, now in her early 70s, sits on the couch, reading a book. Hal, in his early 70s, is trying to fix a broken lamp.
LOIS Hal, if that lamp could talk, it would ask you to stop torturing it.
HAL (holding wires) I'm almost there, Lois. Just a few more tweaks...
The door bursts open, and in walks Dewey, now 33. He's a music teacher with a calm demeanor but still carries a playful spirit.
DEWEY Guess who just composed an entire symphony based on cat meows?
LOIS (smiling) Let me guess, you?
DEWEY Absolutely. And I think the school might actually play it this time.
Reese, 38, enters, wearing a police uniform. He's matured but still has a mischievous glint in his eye.
REESE Hey, Dewey, did you finally convince them to give you real instruments?
DEWEY You'd be surprised how versatile a classroom full of recorders can be.
Malcolm, 37, walks in with a briefcase. He looks every bit the successful professional but carries the weight of his responsibilities.
MALCOLM (deep sigh) Tough day at the office.
HAL You know, I still don’t understand why you didn’t go for that cushy research job in Switzerland.
MALCOLM It’s called ambition, Dad. Plus, the world needs policymakers who understand quantum physics.
LOIS And your father needs someone who understands how to fix a lamp.
MALCOLM (laughing) Let's call an electrician before Dad electrocutes himself.
Francis, now 42, enters with his wife Piama, 39. Francis looks rugged and has clearly embraced his life on the ranch.
FRANCIS Hey, family! Guess who wrangled two wild horses this morning?
PIAMA (smiling) And then tried to convince them to wear cowboy hats.
HAL Francis, you always did know how to talk to animals.
FRANCIS Too bad it doesn’t work on my kids.
Jamie, now 22, enters, holding a baby. He’s grown into a responsible young man, taking after both Lois and Hal in different ways.
JAMIE Mom, Dad, everyone, meet little Lois.
LOIS (teary-eyed) You named her after me?
JAMIE Of course. We wanted her to have a strong name.
The family gathers around the baby, cooing and fussing over her. The doorbell rings, and Reese opens it to reveal Craig, in his late 60s, holding a cake.
CRAIG I heard there’s a family reunion and thought I’d crash the party with cake!
LOIS (sighs) Come on in, Craig. You’re practically family at this point.
CRAIG (placing the cake on the table) I’m honored. So, who wants to hear about my new job at the library?
MALCOLM (smirking) As long as it doesn’t involve you dressing up as a book.
CRAIG Oh, Malcolm, you wound me.
The family laughs, and the camera pulls back, showing the entire family together, enjoying the moment.
NARRATOR (MALCOLM) (TC) Twenty years later, and we're still as chaotic as ever. But I wouldn’t trade this crazy family for anything. Well, maybe for a Nobel Prize... but then again, probably not.
Fade out as the family continues to chat and laugh.
END.

Inguinal Hernia vs Sports Hernia ​​
Strenuous sports and physical activity, particularly weight-lifting, can cause inguinal hernia, a type of hernia that develops in the groin and is common in men.
Strenuous sports can also cause a condition known as sports hernia, which has similar symptoms and even a similar name, but is not actually hernia. Unlike inguinal hernia, there is no lump or bulge in sports hernia.
“In inguinal hernia, part of your intestine protrudes through a weak section in the abdominal wall, causing a bulge or lump. In the case of sports hernia, the intestine is not involved at all,” explains Prof Wong Wai Keong, Head and Senior Consultant for the Department of General Surgery at Singapore General Hospital (SGH), a member of the SingHealth group.
What causes sports hernia
Sports hernia (also known as athletic pubalgia) develops because of an injury to muscle, tendons or ligaments in the groin, caused by playing strenuous sports, e.g. ice hockey, soccer, wrestling. Rapid twisting and turning movements of the body and a sudden change of direction can cause strain, or a tear, in muscle and soft tissue. The main symptom of sports hernia is groin pain.
You are likely to experience severe pain in the groin area at the time of the injury. The pain typically improves with rest, but returns when you resume playing, and bend or rotate your body. The groin pain may extend to the genital area. The groin area may also feel tender to the touch.
Diagnosing and treating sports hernia
Sports hernia is diagnosed with a physical exam and by observing the athlete performing exercises such as sit-ups, to determine whether they cause groin pain. Imaging tests such as an x-ray and MRI may also be carried out.
Treatment involves resting the injured groin muscles, tendons or ligaments for several weeks. Anti-inflammatory medication and icing the injured area can also help with pain management. After a couple of weeks, you may be advised physical therapy to strengthen your abdominal muscles. Typically, you can return to normal sports activities after 4-6 weeks of physical therapy.
If these methods are ineffective in treating the sports hernia, surgery may be required. Surgery to repair the torn muscle or tissue can be a traditional open surgery, or a procedure using an endoscope and requiring small incisions.
If left untreated, sports hernia may result in chronic pain that may prevent you from resuming your sports activities. It may also develop into true hernia.
How to prevent inguinal hernia while lifting weights
Weight-lifting, if done incorrectly, can also cause inguinal hernia. Therefore, it is important to be careful and follow proper procedure if you must lift weights. Following are some precautions you can take to prevent inguinal hernia:
Warm-up before you start lifting weights.
Lift an appropriate amount of weight.
Always bend from your knees, not your waist.
Avoid rushing and lift the weight slowly.
Stop if you feel pain

I think we all know the current low salary problem among the Canarian people. Especially in the low skilled sector.
And I noticed something interesting in this regard:
It seems to me, that one of the reasons for such low pays is simply that people agree to them.
Even if there are places which provide better pay.
From my own experience:

1. In the restaurant/bar industry a lot of the places in the Costa Adeje area will pay 7-10 euros per hour, on top of which there is at least 50-200€ tips per month.
   
2. And the sector I’ve worked in, construction/renovation:
   

Canarian people are agreeing to 50€ per day for the lowest skilled positions, rarely even without an hourly limit (which means they can be asked to be there for 8+ hours for the same pay…). These are often black jobs, and the lowest paid person I’ve seen was a Moroccan kid earning 40€/day for very physically demanding work in poor conditions (no ear or breathing protection while working in dust and loud noise).
While I was and am earning 9-10.5 per hour, without any skills, just doing just clean up and assisting. Mostly because I simply asked for a higher pay. Important to note here is that I don’t work for Canarian or Spanish companies, rather Polish/British/Irish…
I also have what I know from my friend, who recently started offering his services in construction/landscaping, and he had people agreeing to work for him for as low as 50€/day. And he was getting similarly low offers when he was looking to get hired by someone (one company even asked him to work 6 days per week, 8 hours per day!!!).
——-
I know this is a big point of contention for Canarian people, and a very difficult subject, so I’m expecting a lot of people might get angry.
But I just want to spread the information, that these companies do have more money to pay you. And if they don’t, then go to someone else.
Don’t undervalue your work. Don’t agree to pays which cannot support your life.
❤️

I will give a lot of context of my situation, but I will try to make it as anonymous as possible (although, based on this, it is really easy to find me...). I won't try to justify, but rather explain the reasoning so you can understand it better. All of this is really embarrassing for me, but I'm so desperate that I feel like I need to tell you everything.
I, M23 non-citizen living in Europe in the process of acquiring citizenship, began my career around the Fall of 2021 as a Software Engineering Intern at a top 3 Password Manager company. I was 20yo at the time. I do not have a CS degree, but I had original personal projects that helped me during interviews. The fact that I failed a subject at school and couldn't join university was the trigger for a depression&anxiety (that had deeper reasons than just school failure) that I was in for over a year, and this new job sparked a joy inside me that I didn't experience during this time.
I was doing really great. After 4-5 months, I was offered a full-time Junior SWE position. I was even discharged from therapy. However, I was also interviewing for other companies as I didn't know if I'd make it into a full-time position. The offer came in as I passed Facebook interviews for a 3-month internship in London (I live in another country). I talked to my manager at the time, and he convinced me that it would be better to stay, as I had concerns about immigration & the fact that it didn't seem like Facebook had a long-term plan for me.
My salary as an intern was 24k€/year, remote. If I were to be full-time, I would be going into 32k€/year, remote.
Two weeks later, I also received feedback from another company, Company 2, B2B Fintech. I passed all the interviews for a remote Junior FE position. The salary was 72,8k€/year, but as a contractor, and I would be joining as an employee if I were to relocate to Paris. I discussed the matter with my parents, friends, and girlfriend, and I decided to take the offer. The company I was working at counter-offered for 45k€, but I didn't take it.
Then shit hit the fan.
Everything at work was fine, but I was going through a lot of stress at home. After roughly 2 months in this new company, I had two traumatic events outside work that put me into my first panic attack. Due to the high expectations I had for myself at this new job, I felt compelled to resign. I made up an excuse at midnight, wrote the resignation letter and sent it to my manager. He understood my situation and I left. I started to attend therapy sessions once more and took different medications as well.
I talked to colleagues at Company 1, and they accepted me back. One month later, I was back at my position, at 45k€. But things were different. I was giving my all, but I wasn't performing as well as I was before. My relationship with my girlfriend was getting worse, things at home were so tense, and responsibilities were piling up. My therapist thought (and she was right) that I was in the process of burnout. Closer to 6 months after my return, I was talking to my peers about taking a break, but I wasn't sure yet... Then the HR said I'd better take a sick leave because my performance was worse than before and this could trigger a PIP. I took the sick leave. 2 weeks weren't enough. The day I returned, I talked to HR again and I was surely going to PIP, so I told them I was not capable of doing more than I was already doing. I was exhausted. I resigned once more.
Two months later, I got another job at Company 3. I couldn't screw this up. 46k€, remote, I just had to go to Paris once a month. On the first day at this new job, I was so focused that I forgot to eat, and just noticed I was starving when my mom knocked on the door at 17h30 asking if I would eat something. I was dedicating 100% of my time to code.
On my first visit to the office, I had a great time, except for an interaction with a colleague that I really liked. He was asking about my story and I told him about my previous experiences. He said: "so you aren't going to leave us after 3 months, are you?". The voice tone was friendly, but I knew the concern was legit.
During my second visit to the office, I ran out of medication, so I was rationing the dose so I could make it until I was back home. I had a side project for a role-playing game, so I changed the whole BE & FE language & frameworks to match the Company 3 stack. I made a linkedin post to tell people I was practicing the stack after work hours on this project. On the next day, HR scheduled a meeting with my manager and asked me if I was founding a company, because that would clash against the non-competing clause in my contract, and that "Company 3 is the only entrepreneurship journey an employee should take".
Looking back, I understand the concern. In my mind, I was only sharing my RPG side project and showing commitment to improving, but they could not read my mind. I tried explaining that to my manager, and he suggested that instead of doing my side project, I could use those hours after work to solve more tasks from work, as my project would not give me any financial return. This whole thing made me feel horrible. I was so unstable due to medication and [sensitive information, trigger] that I thought of killing myself. I just didn't do it because I thought of my family, girlfriend and friends.
When I returned back home, I was worse. After two weeks I resigned, again. I made purchases with a credit card just so I could force myself to find a job to pay it later. My girlfriend also broke up with me, and lost contact with friends, so... I really asked my parents to stay in the hospital for rehab. I couldn't take it anymore. We searched for other therapists and they denied my hospitalization and we began working on my mental health again. They discovered that I have ADHD, alongside other childhood traumas...
After four months, I had an offer for an internship at Company 4. 21,6k€/year, but fully on-site in Paris. I had nothing to lose, so I went there. At the same time, it was my best and worst decision at the same time. It was good because I could prove to myself that I was a little bit stronger than I thought, but...
I began sharing a home with another 10 people (it was complete chaos, with a lot of fights between the people living there), taking 55% of my net salary (1380€/month) just for the rent, adding up to the interest payments I had, food, transportation, etc... I was basically paying to be able to do this internship. I couldn't pay the deposit for cheaper places. I decided I was going back home. I stood there for 6 months and, resigned and returned home.
Since then, I have taken some time to heal. Eventually, I had to stop therapy for some months as my parents had some financial issues (especially as they had to help me financially as well), but this month I will go back to it once more, thankfully. I tried job hunting, but either I couldn't pass the CV screening stage, or I failed during the process.
Right now, I'm doing some freelance for a LATAM client. I think will earn (as I don't have a contract or anything), 320€ a month.
I honestly feel like a kid. I made many mistakes and I feel like I've burnt bridges everywhere. If I weren't in the hustle from day one, I could've paid more attention to my health, to my ex, to my friends, and I wouldn't have made most of the decisions I did. I feel ashamed. I know part of the blame can be justified on the mental health issues I have, but I can't blame everything on it, I have my (the biggest) part of the blame as well.
I would like to have some advice on what to do. How to deal with this job hopping situation I have? My parents have a better financial condition now, so I'm going back to therapy and I'll be able to visit my home country. I have attached my CV, so you can have a look too and give me some advice on it. I also want to join the university next year and restart my social, professional, and academic life.
Thank you for your attention, this was really hard to share and I appreciate your time reading this.
CV: https://imgur.com/JfF4Ddy

Last year, when my ten year prison "stint" was finally up, and I re-entered society, I encountered some... obstacles.
Obstacles like.. Lack of upward mobility. Prejudices and stigmas. Wages and earnings lower than the general population. Undesirable and oftentimes dangerous jobs. And lack of protection from wrongful termination.
Not to mention, an already tough job market, and the fact that my parole required that I maintain steady employment, or face re-incarceration.
Which is why, when I finally got a job offer, after six months of aggressive job hunting, I jumped at the opportunity, giving absolutely no fucks as to how I was actually making ends meet.
"Ever operate a freight elevator before?" Mr. Winfred, the manager of "The Cornelius" and my new boss, asked me my first day on the job.
"No, sir." I replied honestly, as I ran my fingers along the doors of the antiquated contraption, the only remaining evidence of the recently renovated luxury building's ancient past.
"Normally these old things aren't used for passengers, but the building's pretentious designers thought it might add a certain charm to its otherwise sterile decor. Which is where you come in." He continued, as I heard him slide open the freight elevator's outside doors...
SLAM!
...Followed by its scissored metal inside doors.
SCREEEECH!
I heard Mr. Winfred step inside and, using my cane, scanned the interior of the rather large elevator, which must have been eight feet by eight feet, and followed him in.
Instantly, my nose was hit with an overpowering, musty scent, like the kind you'd smell in a basement, combined with your grandmother's attic.
He then closed both doors behind us.
SLAM!
SCREEEECH!
"Now this here." Mr Winfred added, taking my hand and placing it on the handle of a lever, "Is how you move the elevator from floor to floor. Up for up. Down for down. You'll hear a click when you reach each floor, which will be helpful for someone like yourself." He said, clearly calling attention to the fact that I'm blind.
Someone like myself? I scoffed internally. You ignorant, entitled piece of shit.
Truth is, I've always had a bit of a short fuse. Which I guess, looking back on it, is what got me into prison in the first place.
But in my ten years of incarceration, I was given tools to combat my anger issues. Tools like reminding myself that it was nothing new. Assholes like him were always dropping unintentional microaggressions. It had been something I'd grown used to, and given my probation, wasn't a battle worth fighting.
"Yes sir." I replied through my teeth, as I begrudgingly swallowed my pride.
"Now, why don't you spend today practicing. Our first residents don't move in until tomorrow."
—
In just a matter of a week or so, as the doors of "The Cornelius" opened to its new tenants, I learned pretty much everything I needed to know about the job.
Said tenants were rich. Very rich. And most of them acted as such. Entitled. Obnoxious. Holier than thou. Especially given my own social class. But a few of them weren't so bad, and tipped well.
Mr. Winfred's assistant, Jane, was a lovely human being. Patient, kind, thoughtful, understanding. Especially when compared to both the building's uptight residents, and Mr. Winfred himself. It had been years since I had dated, and the very thought of meeting a partner stressed me out to no end, but if I was to find someone, I hoped she'd be like Jane.
The elevator didn't open on the basement level. As I'd learned countless times, it was possible to go there, but the doors simply wouldn't open.
The old freight itself was finicky as fuck. Stop the lever one second too early, or one second too late, and when the doors open, you're halfway between a floor. But eventually, I got used to it, to the point where most of the building's tenants assumed the role of freight operator had always been my job. And when you're good at your service job, and do it with a smile on your face, the tips start flowing.
And so, all was well for the first couple weeks on the job...
...A seemingly refreshing return to normalcy, after ten long years...
...Until...
...The disappearances started happening.
—
I was just arriving to work one day, when I heard about the first disappearance.
"Have you seen - I mean, have you been in contact with Elizabeth Davis? From room 401?" Mr. Winfred asked, after correcting himself. Something he did often, which continued to annoy me.
"Um." I replied, unsure of where he was going with the question. "Not since yesterday. She got back from work, and I brought her up to the fourth floor. But come to think of it, I don't think she rode the elevator down this morning. Like she usually does."
"Interesting." My boss replied, before continuing. "She disappeared yesterday."
"Disappeared?" I asked.
"Yeah, husband said she never came home last night."
"Hmm. Well I know for certain that I brought her to the fourth floor. Did you check the hallway surveillance footage?"
"Not yet. Unfortunately the building inspector's in today, and I won't have time until tomorrow. Let's hope she just went somewhere, or got lost. In the meantime, keep an eye out - I mean - just, let me know if you hear of anything suspicious."
"Yes sir," I replied, once again resisting the urge to snap on him, before heading for the elevator, where I started the day's shift.
SLAM!
SCREEEECH!
That day, I did my best to do as Mr. Winfred had asked, and listened carefully for any signs of mischief.
But the day went on, business as usual and by the end of the day, I hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary...
...Except... The only thing of note was a difference in Mr. Lawrence's demeanor. The tenant of room 805, he was a salesman, and acted like one. When I say the man could talk, the man could talk. To a point where whenever he was a passenger in the old freight elevator, despite the long ride from floor one to floor eight, I'd rarely have a chance to get a word in.
But this time... was different. This time, Mr. Lawrence entered the elevator chatting away, just as he always did. But about halfway up, he just... stopped talking. And the thing about my job is, if someone chooses to talk or not talk, it's their decision, and none of my business. So I left him alone, and when we reached the eighth floor, I simply said goodnight. To which, he didn't reply.
Must be going through something. I thought to myself, having been unable to truly get a sense of his composure, without being able to see him, before closing the double doors and heading off to help the next passenger.
SLAM!
SCREEEECH!
—
Later that night, Mr. Winfred called me into his office, and asked me to take a seat beside his assistant, Jane.
"Mr. Owens. Are you aware of the situation that's going on in the building?" He asked, in an interrogating tone.
"Um... yes, you told me about it yesterday. The disappearance, sir." I replied.
"Disappearances now. Plural." He said sternly.
"But... who else?" I asked.
"Mr. Lawrence."
"What happened to him?"
"Well, to be honest, I was hoping you could tell me. Cause much like Ms.Davis, the last place he was seen was going into your elevator."
"What about the cameras in the hallways?"
"I'm afraid that after reviewing the tapes, after stepping into your elevator, neither Ms. Davis, or Mr Lawrence, ever stepped out."
"But that's... not... possible."
"Mr. Owens. I'm going to give you an opportunity. Is there anything you want to tell me? I know you have a sordid past."
"Mr. Winfred!" Jane interjected, clearly offended by his words, and implications.
"Quiet, Jane." He scolded, before continuing. "Answer the question, Mr. Owens."
I didn't know what to say. I was so shocked, so flustered, by what he was implying, that I simply froze.
"Mr. Owens!" He screamed.
"I... I... don't know!" I cried out, as I heard Jane squirm in her seat. "I'm telling you, the last time I heard from either of them, I took them up to their floors. But I'm-"
"You're what! Blind?"
"Well, yes sir. I don't see what goes on inside the elevator. I just let them on and off."
"Mr. Owens. If they got on your elevator, and never got off, where could they possibly have gone?"
"I... don't... know." I replied, at this point, wanting to grab him by force, demand that he never speak to me that way again, and scream out my innocence. But my next parole appointment was the following week, so once again, all I could do was just bite my tongue.
Mr. Winfred paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and regained his composure.
"Mr. Owens, I could go to the police now. And that would be very bad for someone like you."
Fuck. He's right. I thought to myself, realizing, that if he went to the police, and I was even remotely suspected of what was going on in the building, it was back to prison for me.
"But lucky for you," He continued, "There are things going on in the building that I wouldn't want to bring unwanted attention to. And for that reason, I have decided not to go to the police... yet. But consider this a warning. And know, that I have a repairman coming first thing tomorrow morning to install a security camera inside the freight elevator, so I can see what exactly it is that you're doing in there."
I had know idea how to react to Mr. Winfred's continued accusations. So I simply remained silent.
"Now get out of here and go home! We'll reconvene on this tomorrow." He said dismissively, before Jane walked me out of the room, down the hall, and outside the building, where I planned to return home for the night.
—
Fifteen minutes later, we were at a bar down the street, where Jane apparently frequented.
"But where could they possibly have gone?" I asked her, my hands trembling at both the thought of people disappearing in the elevator, and that it was happening under my watch.
"Thing is," Jane said, as she finished her beer. "There's something you should know about the building."
""The Cornelius"?"
"No, from before it was called that. It used to be a factory of some kind."
"Is that what Mr. Winfred was talking about when he said that there were things going on in the building? That he didn't want to bring unwanted attention to?"
"Well, yes and no. Yes, in a sense, that Mr. Winfred cut some corners, and rather than fully renovate the entire warehouse, he simply walled off entire sections of the old structure. Like the basement."
"And no?"
"No, in a sense, that even Mr. Winfred doesn't know what's really going on in the elevator. Sure, it'd be easy to pin it on you, especially with your criminal record - no offense... but even he knows that it's probably something... else."
"Something else?"
"See, that's where things get hazy. Because no one knows what exactly went on at the factory, before it became "The Cornelius." But rumors have it... it was laboratory of some kind, and some fucked up shit went on inside there."
"Like what?"
"That, my friend. I don't know. But what I do know is... I better be getting to bed."
"Fair enough. Well, thanks for the drink, and the support." I said with a smile, as we made our way out of the bar.
"Yeah, don't let Mr. Winfred get to you. And try not to worry too much."
—
Contrary to Jane's suggestion, that night I worried... a lot. About the disappearances, what might be causing them, whatever may have gone on in the factory, and most importantly, about everything getting pinned on me.
I couldn't fall asleep, tossing and turning in bed as my mind raced. And each time I finally passed out, I'd wake up in a panic attack, my heart pounding, short of breath and in a cold sweat.
But it didn't stop there. The uncomfortable feeling of terror and fear, accompanied by the vibrating sensation of adrenaline pumping through my body, remained well into the next morning, when I stepped back into the elevator, terrified by what might be going on inside there.
Please don't leave me alone in this fucking thing. I thought to myself.
And within a matter of minutes, my prayers were answered.
"How goes it?" The surveillance installation worker called out, his cheery disposition contrary to mine.
"Um... not too bad." I replied, lying through my teeth, as he stepped inside.
But after a minute or two of sharing the elevator with him, my fears lessened and my body relaxed, comforted by the positive conversation, and the metallic, clinking sounds of the installation.
Everything's okay. The doors are open. And he's talking. I thought to myself.
But eventually, the man finished installing the camera, and began wrapping up the job.
"Well, that's it! Camera's all installed and running now." He called out. "Let's just take the elevator for a spin and make sure we don't lose the signal."
"Yes, of course." I replied, before reaching for the double doors...
SLAM!
SCREEEECH!
..And moving the lever up.
We started moving.
"Fascinating job, I must say, elevator operator. But I suppose you could say the same for mine."
"Pays the bills." I replied, feigning a chuckle.
If he's here, and he's talking, then I'm safe. I continued to reassure myself.
But a few minutes into our ascent, just like Mr. Lawrence... the man... suddenly stopped talking.
"Alright, looks like it's working fine. We can head back down and-"
SILENCE.
"Hello?" I asked.
But he didn't respond.
Fuck. I thought to myself, realizing that whatever caused Ms. Davis, and Mr. Lawrence, and seemingly now the repairman to disappear, could still be in the elevator with me.
Standing there, shaking, sweat rolling down my brow, I backed myself into the corner of the elevator, as I reached for the lever, pressed it down, and the elevator began to make its descent back to the ground floor.
When I finally reached the lobby...
DING!
I scrambled to open the doors...
SLAM!
SCREEEECH!
...And darted out, gasping for air, expecting to find a safe haven.
But instead, all I heard was the sound of Mr. Winfred's voice. "Where is the repairman?"
—
A few minutes later, I was once again sitting in Mr. Winfred's office, next to Jane, this time attempting to explain what had happened.
"...And then he stopped talking! Just like Mr. Lawrence."
"You know what, Mr. Owens. I'm tired of your excuses. And now that we have a working camera in the elevator, it's time to find out what's really going on inside there." He threatened, as I heard him clicking away on his computer, clearly reviewing the footage.
"Please do!" I cried out, "I'm telling you, it's not me."
That's when... Mr. Winfred, and Jane, both went silent.
"Hello?" I called out, unable to see what was really going on. Given the fact that my passengers had recently been going silent, the thought crossed my mind that they too had disappeared, but I could still hear their breathing in the room. Breathing, that sounded like it was increasing rapidly...
...Until they broke the silence.
"Oh... my..." Jane said, struggling to catch her breath.
"That can't be. Let me rewind the tape." Mr. Winfred mumbled, the most scared I had ever heard him.
"What is it?" I asked, as they seemingly played back the video.
I would later find out from Jane that the footage would show myself and the repairman in the elevator, as a slithering, grotesque, humanoid figure, suddenly climbed down from the roof of the elevator, wrapped it's slimy arms around the repairman, then somehow hopped back out of the elevator, and pulled the man up with it. Leaving me standing there, completely unaware of what had just happened.
But in that moment, Mr. Winfred must have realized the... complications associated with reporting such a bizarre phenomenon, and instead decided to finally pin it on me.
"Mr. Owens, you shouldn't have done that!" He cried out.
"Mr. Winfred, what are you talking about?" Jane asked, "You and I just watched the same footage."
That's when I heard him drag a file to his computer's trash and delete it.
CRUNCH.
"Stay out of this, Jane. This man has killed three people in the elevator. I knew I shouldn't have hired an ex con!"
"But sir, I didn't-" I tried to reply, before he interrupted.
"Mr. Owens, I'm picking up the phone, and calling the police. I'd suggest you just stay put."
"But Mr. Winfred, I'm telling you, I didn't do anything!"
"Yes, is this 911? I'm the manager of "The Cornelius" and I'd like to report three murders in my building."
"We'd better go." I heard Jane say, as I felt her place her hand on my shoulder.
"And yes, I have reason to believe the killer is our elevator operator, an ex convict, who is sitting right in front of me."
"Come on, let's go!" Jane screamed, as she tugged at my shirt, I hopped up from my seat, and she led me out of the office, down the hall, and into... of all places... the old freight elevator, as she explained to me what she had seen on the surveillance tape.
—
SLAM!
SCREEEECH!
"Take us to the basement!" Jane called out.
"But the basement is walled off." I replied.
"Just do it!" She insisted, before I moved the lever down and the elevator began to move.
I spent the ride catching my breath, until we finally reached the basement level.
DING!
"Now what?" I asked.
But Jane didn't reply.
"Jane?"
Oh fuck. I thought to myself. The monster.
That's when I turned to the center of the freight elevator, where Jane had been standing, reached out into the unknown...
...And sure enough, felt the cold, slimy, skin of the creature, wrapped around Jane's face, preventing her from making a sound.
Not knowing what else to do, I gripped its disgusting appendages with both hands, and slowly pried it off Jane, as she let out a...
...SCREAM..
...And the monster's arm quickly slithered away, back up through the roof of the freight.
Jane dropped to the ground, coughing violently.
"You okay?" I asked her.
But rather than responding, she simply handed me something...
....I opened my fist, to find a pair of keys.
"The lock above the lever. Unlock it." She instructed, still coughing, as I felt around the lever, found the lock, inserted the key, and unlocked it.
CLICK.
"The doors. They should open now." Jane said, as she stood up, having finally caught her breath.
SCREEEECH!
SLAM!
—
We arrived in the dark basement to smell the same, musty odor from the freight elevator.
After her eyes adjusted and she scanned our surroundings, Jane informed me that this floor looked nothing like the other eight, newly renovated floors, with their modern feel and minimalistic designs.
Instead, the basement was a window into the building's former self, when it had been a factory. Its walls brick and crumbling, its floors concrete and cracked.
And scattered everywhere, were the dusty remnants of laboratory equipment. Devices, machines, tanks, most of which were destroyed, or disconnected, or both.
"What went on down here?" I asked.
"From the looks of it, something inhumane," Jane said, after she picked up a few tattered pieces of paper from one of the lab stations, and told me what was on it.
"The first page looks like some sort of a diagram, of a man being pumped with chemicals from tanks. And the second, a drawing... of the creature from the elevator. In pencil beside it, someone appears to have labeled it "The Silencer.""
Silencer. I thought to myself, before remembering that the creature seemed to always silence the sounds of its victims, and to have been repulsed by Jane's scream. At the same time, it had never bothered me in the elevator, as I tended to stand there in silence.
But before I could dwell too much on the thought, Jane interrupted.
"If you don't mind my asking. What did you go to prison for in the first place?" She asked.
"It's okay," I said, surprised she had waited this long to ask, before contemplating the best way to explain what had happened. "’Cause of my temper. Some guy was being a dick on the train platform. We got into a scuffle, and he accidentally fell into the tracks."
"Over what? Did he insult you? Your blindness?"
"No, I'm afraid not." I replied, "We were drunk... and arguing over... a basketball game, of all things. He was... my friend."
"Oh my God. I'm so sorry."
"It's okay."
Jane put her hand on my shoulder, and we stood there in silence for a moment...
...Until suddenly, we heard the sound of Mr. Winfred, and the police approaching, as they ran down what must have been a hidden set of stairs from the ground level to the basement.
"Come on, follow me!" Jane called out, as she took me by the hand and led me into what I'd soon discover was a labyrinthian network of old passages, while the police and Mr. Winfred both called out to us.
"This is the police! Put your hands on your head, and turn yourself in!"
"You're trapped, Mr. Owens! Just confess your crimes, and you'll simply go back to jail!"
We continued to run deeper and deeper into the passages, as our pursuers began to close in on us, their footsteps getting closer... and closer... and closer...
...Until suddenly, the sound of their footsteps was replaced by that of...
...SCREAMING...
...And they suddenly went...
...SILENT.
"What the?" Jane whispered.
"The creature." I whispered. "It must be down here."
That's when we hatched a plan.
—
Having found our way out of the labyrinth and back to the entrance of the laboratory, where we had arrived in the old freight elevator, I found myself standing alone, waiting, as I nervously tapped my cane on the basement floor, Jane having gone off on her own.
That's when I heard Mr. Winfred emerge from the passages, alone, and call out to me.
"Mr. Owens! There's nowhere to run! Even your beloved elevator is gone. You're cornered." He taunted, as I backed towards the elevator and tapped at it with my cane, its doors open, its shaft empty.
"What did you say?" I asked, encouraging him to talk louder.
"What are you, deaf now too?" The ignorant old man snapped back. "I said, you have nowhere to run!"
"I'm sorry, you'll have to forgive me," I said sarcastically, pointing to my ears. "Can you repeat that again?"
That's when Mr. Winfred began approaching and screamed, "You worthless, ex con! I knew I shouldn't have hired you in the first place! And now, you'll go back to where you belong!"
But suddenly...
...Mr. Winfred went SILENT...
...As the creature must have wrapped its slimy tentacles around his face.
That's when I seized the opportunity, ran over to Mr. Winfred, gripped the cold body of the creature, which was indeed wrapped around him, turned, and flung them both behind me, into the hollow elevator shaft...
SLAM!
...Before hitting the "Up" button on the wall, and calling the freight elevator down.
Suddenly, the gears of the elevator above could be heard turning away, and the machine began its quick descent down.
"Mr. Owens, no!" Mr. Winfred cried out, clearly now separated from the creature.
I froze for a moment, as my mind raced back to the night of the tragic accident, when my friend called out to me from the train tracks, and I was unable to save him in time...
....Until I eventually snapped myself out of it, and willed myself to save Mr. Winfred, no matter how evil the asshole's intentions may have been, reaching out my hand out, and pulling him up and out of the elevator, just as the freight car came crash down to the basement level.
SLAM!
CRUNCH!
"RAAAAAAAARRRRR!" The slimy beast cried out, as it was crushed under the old elevator's weight.
DING!
The basement fell SILENT for a moment, until...
SCREEEECH!
SLAM!
...Jane stepped out and said, "Going up?"
But the joke was met was silence. I simply stood there, shaking, as Mr. Winfred did the same, clearly shocked by the events that had just occurred.
—
A few weeks later, after the authorities had done a full sweep of the basement, and cleared out all traces of the building' old laboratory, I found myself once again back in the manager's office.
"Mr. Owens. This is the last time I'm gonna tell you this!" Jane joked, as I heard her recline back in what was once Mr. Winfred's chair, having been named interim manager since her boss's recent and... ironic... prison sentencing.
"Who's the convict now?" I said with a smile, before making my way out of the office.
"Wait." Jane said, stopping me at the door. "You sure you want to go back to operating the elevator? After all that's happened? Like I said, the doorman job is yours if you want it."
"What's the worst that could happen?" I replied with a smile. "There's another one of those creatures in the building somewhere?"

When I (35f) was 14, my mom had my little sister. I was an accident, the child that “ruined” my mother’s life (aka ruining her chances at marrying rich and living her best life… her words paraphrased), but my sister was planned. My mom’s entire pregnancy was a nightmare. She was always abusive, but somehow being pregnant made her even worse.
The day they both came home from the hospital, it became my job to take care of my sister. As you can imagine, that went over super well with a teenage girl, but I did it.
Every day I’d come home from school to find my little sister still in her crib. Sometimes crying and needing a diaper change, while my mother laid in bed watching General Hospital and screaming at me to take care of my sister. Any time I pushed back, my mother would punish me. She refused to take care of my sister because my stepdad was the one who wanted a kid. He could take care of her once he got home, which wouldn’t be for hours. So I’d take care of my sister, cook dinner, and do the list of chores my mother demanded.
My first homecoming game? My parents showed up, my mom dumped my sister on me, so I (at 15) had to walk around carrying my infant sister while my mom got drunk and had the time of her life.
We’d go out to dinner, and I’d be on “baby duty”. So the servers would think she was my kid, and talk to me like I’m the mom. I’d angrily clarify that I’m 15 and this was my little sister, and my mom would laugh like it was hilarious.
The day I turned 16, my mom literally had me going out applying for jobs because I was old enough now. She wasn’t going to pay for me anymore. I had to take care of myself… which was hilarious since my dad was paying her child support. While we had been dirt poor when I was a kid, my stepdad makes a ridiculous amount of money. We were no longer living paycheck to paycheck, and living in a million dollar home.
At 16, I was taking multiple AP and honors courses, in the presidency of five different clubs, was a senior editor of the newspaper with several columns assigned to me, a member of the varsity debate team (also was a mentor to the novice team members, working 30+ hours a week, paying all my bills (car insurance, gas, clothes, food), and raising my little sister. All that time, my mother’s abuse got worse. Her drinking had steadily increased, and she became more violent.
A few days before my 18th birthday, I finally snapped. I left home. When I tried to go home a few days later to get my stuff, my mom attacked me and my friend who’d come with me. My friend and I both ended up escaping and running… technically I had to do a barrel roll as the garage door opened to escape… which shouldn’t be funny but I’m laughing right now thinking about how ridiculous it must have looked to anyone on the outside who had no idea what was happening.
Anyway, I ended up moving across the country to live with my dad, for my own safety and mental/physical health. I wanted to go no contact with my mom forever, but I couldn’t leave my little sister alone with her. I went back eventually for my sister, but things were the same with my mom. I left again for my own sanity and physical well being.
When my sister hit high school, my mom refused to get her a phone, so I put my sister on my plan. Made sure Uber was set up for her so that I’d pay if she needed a safe ride to get out of a bad situation. I took her school clothes shopping. Bought her exactly what she asked for every Christmas (something my mother purposefully refuses to do).
I’m the one who taught her how to be safe at parties, how to protect herself, and to look out for other girls. I had safe sex talks with her. Encouraged her to do well in school so that she could escape our mother too.
What killed me was getting the calls from her that mom was off the rails again. The police did nothing to protect me back when I was 17, almost 18. When CPS was called on my mom for my sister, several times, they did nothing also. Having a lot of money and being able to look like a stepford wife at the drop of a hat worked in my mom’s favor I guess. I personally believe she’s a narcissist, but I’ll probably never know for sure cause she’ll never get diagnosed.
When my sister turned 18 and graduated high school, she moved in with me and my fiancé that summer. She took a gap year, and we took care of her. Having escaped our mother myself, I knew she needed that space to heal. My fiancé and I joked to ourselves that we became parents to a grown teenager.
I drove her to college last summer, she just finished her first year. My little sis has been accepted and is transferring to her dream school this fall. I’m so proud of her.
To be honest, I’ve busted my ass since I turned 18, because I knew the day would come where my sister would turn 18, and she’d need a safe place to fall. I wanted to be in a good enough place to be able to provide that for her… and I did it. I got her out, and she’s thriving.
We’ve been planning a trip to go see our grandmothers this summer. My fiancé isn’t able to join us for the trip, since it’s going to be an extended visit and we can’t leave our cats alone/have his parents look out for them for that long.
One of my grandmothers called to tell me that my little sister was disappointed that he wasn’t going to be there, and that he feels more like a dad to her than her own father…. And honestly that broke my heart.
She’s joked with me before that I’m more like her mom than our actual mother. Honestly, it’s true. I feel like her mom, more than I feel like her sister. Sometimes I wish she was my kid. That we were her parents, because she’d have probably been better off. I told my fiancé about what my sister said and we both got emotional about it… and then pissed at my stepdad for being so god damn apathetic and my mom for being an abusive alcoholic narcissist… that woman wonders why I never call.
I’m looking forward to seeing my sister soon and giving her a big hug. Fiancé did joke that little sis is being dramatic because she’s still flying back to our house to stay with us for a week. Her Christmas/Birthday present for 2023+2024 were VIP/barricade concert tickets to see her favorite K-pop group. I saved up forever for them. It was just supposed to be for her and her friend as her Christmas/birthday present for 2023, but she insisted on it being for 2023 and 2024. I just like seeing her happy.

So I (23 yo nonbinary person) have been dealing with EXTREME panic attacks and anxiety attacks that are so cripplingly bad I’ve been hospitalized and have physical symptoms (ie chest pains, arm pains, sometimes I forget to breathe, night sweats, smelling burning or rubbing alcohol, blurry vision, and the worst one INTENSE fear of death!) I have always been scared of dying do to being raised by Christian extremists and I have had depression since I was 10-11 years old.
My life has been nothing but psychiatrist visits, pills upon pills, and therapy once every week and twice every two weeks, I thought things were getting better when I didn’t have a panic attack for about 5 months and I got a new job!!
I love my coworkers and I actually really like my life rn, I’m moving in with my best friend in the next year and I’ve been doing a lot better socially and mentally, until this week. My panic attacks came outta nowhere harder and worse than ever to the point where I 24 hours every day have been feeling like I’m on the brink of a seizure, heart attack, or my favorite one that totally didn’t make me freak out like a wild animal was when it mimicked a stroke where my aunt had to call 911.
Apparently my body is completely and perfectly healthy, I’m EXTREMELY active as I run/do ballet for about 2-4 hours every day and nothing is wrong with my heart even though it feels like it’s standing on its last leg.
My panic attacks have been affecting my life like no tomorrow lately, making me lose sleep, I can’t eat, I’m miserable because I just feel like I’m fading away into nothing and my heart is slowing down by the second, so I’ve been calling out of work. It’s a miracle if I don’t call out at least once a week now with just how much physical and mental pain I am in, and I can just feel my coworkers are just tired of me always having “some excuse” to not come in.
I’ve lost almost all of my work friends because of this and another one of my coworkers lied about me not actually being sick and said they “saw me go on a shopping spree” the same day I was laid up in bed screaming and clinging onto my brother’s arm trying to make things right with god before I die.
I honestly do not know what to do, I’ve done literally everything in my power to fix this!! It’s destroying my life and my ability to make my last deposit for when I move out, I have absolutely NO reason to feel this way (maybe I feel guilty for abandoning my parents extremist faith, being a lesbian, vaping, smoking pot and loving to day drink and it’s just all hitting me at once) I just don’t know what to do, I can’t even do ballet anymore without my heart feeling like it’s stopping or my body going slack and shaking. If there’s anyone on here that could help me in anyway please let me know I need all the help I can get because this is destroying my extremely young life because I’m in pain and scared of death.