Sober 6 monthsish I'm not a stickler for keeping track. I've been dealing with some health issues that left me quite ill-you guessed it-since 6 months agoish. I had surgery a week and a half ago that wasn't horrible but painful nonetheless. I've been pretty high on pain killers (responsibly) and just resting. The surgery managed to be successful though because I feel SO much better already. Yay!
But.... I have energy again. And i'm now out of painkillers, and my weed wasn't working on me today, i was in pain, panicked and just NEEDED some relief. That insipid voice that's been dormant so long started whispering. "Ya know you're home alone today...no one will know... just for this one time... look what you've been through...you deserve it".
Sweet whiskey, calling to me. It'd work. I wouldn't feel any pain, ennui, panic-just for a day. It'd be worth it right?
Good sense washed over me and I played the tape forward. I texted my Mom told her to call me asap. We talked and I was honest that I was having cravings and it was scary because I hadn't had them in so long. I hate talking about my alchy ways with my parents but I had to. She told me to get my ass up and get more weed.
So I did, the liqour store was passed on the way but not even acknowledged. Into the dispensary I go and stock up and also get a fucking sprite because I at least deserve that. By the time I got home I was on the come down of the mild panic attack.
So yeah. It wasn't a perfect day I smoked a lotttt of weed and barely ate but I'm still (cali) ✨sober✨ I guess. My mom said to pat myself on the back, I find it hard to. I'm just happy to feel okay for now.

Hi All,
30yo female, uk
Last year I had a big trauma in the form of a minor health problem that was misdiagnosed/mistreated to the point where it became chronic (took 6 months to get rid of a sinus infection and I'm now on a wait list to potentially have surgery on my ear since that hasn't resolved).
I started off with tingling in my hands and feet that quickly spread to my entire body including parts of my mouth. This is a 24/7 symptom. I've had periods where I experience numbness (normally in my calf, wrist but the main place it flares in my face) but I still habe sensation like running a hairbrush off the numb patch i still feel it and if it's in my face I can still move my muscles etc. I've also had headaches that go on for about a week but both those seem to be more like flare ups and eventually they go. My more recent symptom is sharp shooting pains that are more intermittent and again seem go be all over (like i'll be chilling and it'll jolt in my wrist or part of my thigh). I put this down to the condition since it came on in the lead up to my finally having my neurology appointment so naturally i was really stressed and scared.
I've had extensive private bloods, as well as many public healthcare ones over the past year and all that was picked up was iron and vit d deficienes which are resolved now. I had a private MRI of my spine and brain as it was suspected MS and that came back normal as well.
Coming up to a month since my neurologist appointment where I was officially diagnosed with FND. He was very validating and had clearly really taken the time to read my notes etc from the fact some of the questions he asked had info in that I hadn't present to him myself. I had my millionth functional physical neuro tests and they were normal again. As it seems to be moreso sensory for me, i've just been given a neurophsycology referral and discharged from neurology and i had no date of when i'm gonna be seen.
I'm already in private therapy and she's helping me manage anxiety and work on redirection to just start getting my life back a bit.
I joined one FND forum and got really upset because it was a lot of people just telling me i've been misdiagnosed and it's xyz etc but for me it just seems like the right diagnosis. Also made my symptoms flare more.
It just really sucks that it seems you're given a diagnosis then left with nothing other than "find a support group in the meantime." I'm just scared of the possibility of ignoring a new symptom (like the shooty i have now) cause situationally i can pin it on stress and fnd and it turns out i'm ignoring something bigger.
Hope you lovely lot can provide ways to help me manage and hopefully some of you have experienced the same as me.

To live in the Undead Burg is a daily test of one’s wit and their will. The brutish and dull fall to the cunning, and the weak intellectual tears their own mind asunder. For those who escape the Asylum, it is sometimes enough to make one consider voyaging back to their cell.

After all, only a few are Chosen.


In the lower levels of the Undead Burg, a cloak of rat skin fluttered behind a walking corpse as they hurriedly turned the corner of a short length of stone stairs, slamming the shield of a hollow soldier against the ground just as the claws and fangs of the first hound rose to meet it. In truth he lacked the strength to properly defend himself with the thing, to raise it with only one arm and withstand a blow with the same, but it didn’t matter here. The lower corner of the shield lay braced against the bottommost of a length of stone steps. This, with his shoulder pressed against the shield’s top, made progress against him nearly impossible for a foe so light as this.

If idiocy was to lose one’s common sense, then it couldn’t account for the stupidity of an undead hound. The corpse raised a spear over the shield and swung it downward in a pathetic arc, the wood slapping against the metal with hardly a noise to report. Seeing the motion, the dog leapt sideways out of some horribly trained reflex, and in this manner crashed into large pile of eternally burning corpses. It yelped as the heat caught it, spasmed as it searched for purchase amidst the mass of charred bones and melted flesh, and promptly died. The commotion brought with it the sound of distant footsteps, and soon another beast had run headlong into the shield. This one took two similar “attacks” of the spear to repeat its fellow’s mistake, and the one after it four.

To think he had once been terrified of these things, and discovered his tactic in panic.

Beside the steps was a well, and (after a moment to ensure no further dogs were coming), it was this against which the corpse laid his heavy shield. The next test between him and his goal would require agility, something ill-afforded with such heavy hardware. For this, he turned his attention to the well’s crank, and set thereafter to turning it. From the depths was raised a target shield tied in place of a bucket, and upon it a collection of bones, a severed hand, a ring, and a candlestick. The corpse laid the miscellaneous treasures aside, untying the shield and equipping it to his left arm.
The first two thieves were marked by buckets… or rather, the buckets were set in place to tell the thieves which doors were to be hid behind. As travelers came and went, the buckets would roll down the hill as they were knocked aside or blown by the wind or carried around by the dogs, and thus the thieves’ stations would move. When it was determined one had rolled too far down the decline of the alleyway, an annoyed thief would inevitably carry it to a more desired station, pretend it had always been there, and hide themselves behind the newly marked door. It was possible some band of thieves set this tradition in place long ago and retained the habit after they’d eventually gone hollow, but proving this thought today would be nearly beyond impossible. The reasoning didn’t matter to the corpse, of course, but the effect he used to his advantage.

The tops of the doors he adorned with knives from the Lady of Moss- blades up, such that the forceful opening of the door would spin the knives just right to sink their poisonous bile onto the victims below. What additional wastes and acids the corpse had applied need not be mentioned by name, only that they shared their patron creature with the leather cloak on his back. With his work done, he now walked the side of the alley as any clueless traveler would have, and awaited the springing of the trap.

As always, the third and lowermost thief signaled the attack by kicking open their door. The two now behind the corpse followed, and shortly thereafter issued their raspy exhales of pain amidst the clatter of falling steel. The corpse charged. The leader hurriedly reached for their throwing knives but was swiftly force-fed the edge of the corpse’s shield, thusly to be brought to the ground. Here was the corpse’s blade drawn, its cracked and jagged tip turned down towards its latest prey.

When skinning rats, it is important that one carries a sharp blade. This both to pierce the thick hide, and to avoid unnecessary damage to the intestines, stomach, and other usable bits lying beneath. Replacing the rat with a hollow, the corpse preferred the tip of a broken straight sword to the edge of his usual dagger. The motions made indeed bore some crude similarity to his work when harvesting leather, but the abandon of care became only more evident with each forceful cut and flailingly resisted gouge. In the end, what remained could hardly be discerned from a spot of muck on the road with a hollow-faced madman above it.

Further down, beyond a second set of stone steps, was another favorite spot of ambush for the thieves. The mutts at the end of the alley had long since devoured whatever scraps had been used to position them, and so readily charged forth at the beckoning call of the corpse. They found at his feet the now separated legs of the corpse’s most recent kill, adorned in many fresh gouges and oozing with a pungent liquid. The source of this meal mattered not to them, and so they eagerly set to work engorging themselves on the new flesh. So single-minded were they, intent on ridding themselves of the insatiable undead hunger that plagued them, that neither one slowed as a white foam began to pour from their mouths. Their stomachs first bulged, then split apart and spilt what little they had for content as the acid worked its way through. Their legs gave way from beneath them, first the hind, then the front, and yet still they desperately swallowed more of the decaying flesh and embedded stomach-skin pouches that rapidly digested them in return. When at last the pair had at last lost such strength as to no longer reach the meals inches away from their first gasping, then whining maws, the corpse delivered their mercy. A swift kick, and what little remained of their necks gave freedom to their lifeless skulls. The thieves, meanwhile, bore no challenge the corpse had not faced. Knives over the first few doors, the greeting of jaw and shield, the pillaging of another victim. Nothing unusual, and nothing of note.

With the capra demon gone, some “chosen” adventurer having long since vanquished it from realm, little now stood between the corpse and… her… save only one thing. The corpse took the last flight of stairs three at a time, ricocheting off the wall on the outside of its only turn and bounding towards his target.

There she was, out in the open as always. The corpse sprinted down the stairs and, after passing a blind corner, set his left foot forward and crouched to halt his considerable momentum. The ambusher behind him was easily parried as he brought his shield up and behind him, cracking something in their forearm or perhaps their wrist. Not bothering waste time, the corpse’s broken blade was brought upwards through the ambusher’s jaw until it snapped the bit bone between their eyes. This done, the corpse wrenched his weapon sideways with a hollow “pop” as the neck gave leave of its skull. The body collapsed to the side, its head twisting unnaturally upwards and backwards as it freed itself of the blade. The corpse, unbothered, bore no interest in holding either aloft. Now he turned, inspected the last of the thieves, and after a moment returned his blade to its holder.

“You are Patient.”

This first time he’d uttered the phrase, the last word was merely an attribute. ‘Twas a description of the one hollow that could be shot with any arrow, afflicted with any pain, and yet remain loyally in her position. To be fair, it wasn’t for great gift a choice, as the position of “live bait” was reserved only for whichever of the thieves had been deemed least desirable by the rest. What caused this, and whatever penalties lay for abandoning of the post, were matters the corpse could only assume. The important part was that it was \her,** the thief who had become “Patient” by name. At their first encounter the corpse had considered dispatching her like the rest, but had hesitated in piercing her skin. He still bore the scar about his neck that she had given him for his idleness, and she still wore the rat skin “grieves” he’d forcefully tied to her for a marker. As time passed, the two gradually traded more scars and more black fur hide between them- the corpse receiving the former, Patient gaining the latter. He had stripped her and tied a pelt about her chest which lay now beneath her leather armor, he’d fashioned a double-thick leather stock to protect her neck, and though he tied gloves to her at a point she’d taken great effort in cutting them off. All this he had done across many visits, through much pain, and at expense of his best materials. Todays gift had by far been the hardest to craft- a thrice layered leather helm affixed on one side with a jawbone to replace what he’d broken so long ago.

His approach was slow, and well-rehearsed. At about ten paces, Patient’s patience finally broke as she ran for him. Today she chose to hesitate upon reaching him, though more by chance of random choice than through any form of compassion. The corpse waited for the attack, not daring to kick another outcast as he had once been in life. She tried first her more viscous pattern, a pair of vigorous strikes that slid across the corpse’s target shield rather than bouncing away. She completed the maneuver and immediately prepared for a more powerful, slamming attack, granting the corpse the opportunity he had been seeking.

As she brought her blade down, the corpse deftly batted her strong hand away and gripped her shield with his open hand. Having no further need for his own shield, he cast it now away and spun the patient thief ‘round. She made as if to leap upward and over the corpse, but the maneuver was one he’d long since learned to counter. He stepped back, spinning himself so as to bring her sideways and around and down into prone position with his right elbow along her back and his left hand on pinning her knife arm down.

His next task, before gifts could be given, was to ensure he received no further scars in return. Placing his knee at her back to free one of his hands, he drew from beneath his cloak a coil of red twine fashioned from the same rats he’d skinned for his gift… some of the same, at least. With great effort, the twine was managed around the thief until she could no longer terribly well resist, and her hood was pulled back from her head.

Seeing the sunken red skin, the glowing eyes, the bare teeth, it reminded the corpse of life in the Pit of Outcasts. It was there he’d met the kindest of the living, the most desperate of the poor, and occasionally even a soul or two willing to speak or come close to him. ‘Twas a place for the diseased, the undead, and those criminals deemed too vile to disgrace the hangman’s noose with their neck. It was there he’d learned to knit and to sew, skills gifted to him from an undead woman not terribly discernable from the one before him now. The main difference, at least for now, was the slack jaw broken in uncountable pieces during their first encounter.

Casting the memories aside, the corpse set to his work. The leather about the thief’s neck stilled her head a little, but precisely cutting the skin beneath her jaw to remove the old bone was still a difficult task. The end result was unsightly, and it involved more than a few excessive cuts from the patient’s constant struggling, but it was enough to work with. Removing the old bone took a great deal of time thanks to the many fragments hidden in odd bits and pockets of flesh, but sliding the new one into place and wrapping it in the old muscle proved as easily said as done. The most tiring part was retying the cuts back closed, as the thief regained and continually demonstrated a greater ability to bite and snap as the corpse made more and more progress. The last of these closed, the corpse finally wrapped the rest of the leather helmet about the thief’s skull and tied the loose end to the other side of her new jaw with more twine. It wasn’t his best work, but it was the best he’d done on something still kicking around.

Patient’s hood was returned to its proper position, and the corpse took hold of a length of twine connected to a slipknot in the middle of her back. Midway up the last stretch of stairs he’d come down, the twine was pulled and the knot it held gave way, restoring the thief her freedom. Knowing better than to stick around, the corpse turned and fled to the top of the stairs, standing on the bridge overlooking her station, just beyond where she would pursue. He watched as she freed herself of the last of the twine, as she looked to him, and as she eventually to return to her post. He said then the same thing he always said to her, though still he knew not if she recognized it.

“I am Aldin Paltry, the Leper of Hangknell. I will return again.”

He watched a moment more, but was paid not a glance in return. Back through the alley he went, bound for the dragon’s bridge.

After sixty-seven sessions of Curse of Strahd (read all about it here), it was time for a change. So into the wild we went...
My group is nearing the end of Hither, and along the way I've written summaries of each session ("What Just Happened?"), along with interesting quotes from PCs/NPCs ("Certain Things Were Said"), and a list of new characters introduced that session ("Dramatis Personae").
My intention is to write the summaries for each of the five parts of the campaign in a different format. For the Witchlight Carnival, each summary was presented in verse (my own, no machine learning shortcuts!), using the the metre and rhyming structure of various Lewis Carrol poems.
I'd like to share my summaries/poems with you all here, for posterity, and in the hope you'll find them entertaining.
For reference, the players are:

• Holafina (a harengon paladin who has lost three inches of height)
• Skerrek (a kobold druid who has lost the ability to lie)
• Arix (an owlin monk who has lost all sense of direction and is always hungry)
• Jexim (a brash fairy who has lost his diary)
• Sylenos (a beatnik, slacker satyr employed by the Carnival

NOTE: Lewis Carroll was known to hide secret messages in his poems. I've done the same, revealing the campaign's big twist in one of the poems below. None of my players have picked up on it.

Part I: Welcome to the Witchlight

What Just Happened? (in the style of Jabberwocky)
’Twas twilight when the carnival Did open wide two golden gates, And those with tickets did arrive, Seeking things they had misplaced.
One harengon of curious size, A kobold with a slithy gait, An owlet who possessed two eyes As wide as Annam’s dinner plates.
Yet are we three or are we four? Let’s add vibrations rarefied: A Witchlight hand here to ensure That every guest is Satyrs-fied!
Enter now and taste the sounds, Feel these colours, smell those sights! Kaleidoscopic fun abounds This synaesthesiac’s delight!
Yet where’s the drama? Where’s the tension? Certainly we’ve had a switch (At least in here there is no mention Of that cad von Zarovich).
Instead let’s race a giant snail, Eat candied mushrooms by the pound, Or listen to a gnome assail The tightness of your mother’s gown.
Yet hark! A misadventure glum! Those not heroes please give berth! The best laid plans of love undone By Tasha’s wild unruly mirth
These mirrored halls! This desperate task, To find a luckless paramour A sweet-toothed lass with porcine mask That you could swear you’ve seen before…
’Twas twilight when the carnival Did open wide two golden gates And those with tickets did arrive, Now guided by the wiles of fate.
Dramatis Personae
Arix Specklefoot, a sweet-toothed owlin Holafina, a curiously short harengon Skerrek Tirael, a slithy kobold Sylenos, a cosmic satyr Nicholas Midnight, elderly goblin ticketmaster at the Witchlight Carnival Candlefoot, a mime and not by choice Rubin Sugarwood, a lovesick halfling Ween Sundapple, his laugh-sick paramour Glorange Turple, a poetry gnome
Certain Things Were Said
“I am worried about your ability to sense vibrations that I cannot.” - Skerrek Tirael
“Tymore, goddess of good fortune! Look well upon Shellymoo this day!” - Holafina
“Hate to say it, man, but that gnome really insulted your mother.” - Sylenos
“Snacks?” - Arix Specklefoot

Part II: Lost and Found

What Just Happened? (In the style of The Walrus and the Carpenter )
"The time has come," the Satyr said, "To talk of many things: Of poems—and props—and Jeremy Plum— Of crowns and pixie kings— And why things here keep getting lost— And what this pig-girl means."
"But wait a bit," the Owlin cried, "Before our minds do meet, For some of us are pretty spooked, And I would like a treat!" "No hurry!" said the Satyr, And kicked up cloven feet.
The Owlin and the Kobold Were walking close at hand, They smiled like anything to see The gates of Pixie Land. "If we could only stay a while,” They said, "it would be grand!"
The Satyr sighed so sulkily, Because he thought that Plum Had got no business to be there When all was said and done. (“It's rude of him," the Kobold said, "To try and spoil our fun!")
"Oi, Satyr," said the pixie king, "You've had a pleasant run! Should you be getting back to work?” But answer came there none And this was scarcely odd, because He had real beef with Plum.
Now Arix made a hamster friend Who offered up some clues. The others tried the riding-pug: A pleasant thing to do! (“The pug is fine," the Rabbit said, "But he’s no Shellymoo.”)
"How nice of you to come!” said Plum, "You all are oh-so kind!" Puddlemud said nothing as His teeth began to grind. The Owlin and the Kobold cheered: “That was our FAVORITE ride!”
“A wooden crown," fair Jexim said, Is what we need to come Our way along with golden paint For some un-princely sum.” The others stared, confused, and said: “Now where did YOU come from?”
‘Twas then the party dared approach The famous Mystery Mine Where psychedelic spectacles Broke the Satyr’s mind. (“I really wish,” Zephixo sighed, “You wouldn’t ride while high”).
Next Dirla pulled all kind of things Out of his wagon/portal: Bottles, bunnies, candlesticks, A shining blade of vorpal (Incidentally, there’s a word That kind of rhymes with purple).
“If you put your mind to it And searched for long enough, Do you suppose," the party said, "That you could find our stuff?" "I doubt it," said dear Dirlagraun, And gave a bitter huff.
Then he gave the Harengon The greatest gift by far: A copy of “Gnome On The Run” And bid them au revoir (Morgie would have laughed at that While struggling with slash “R”).
“I do believe,” the Satyr said, “That something is not right, And think we ought to pay a call To Messers Witch and Light.” “I think we ought,” the Owlin said “To first stop for a bite.”
But in their way old Thaco stood, A clown grown grim and surly: “Rabbit! Owlin! Pixie! Skink! You aren’t allowed to be-“ The Fairy interrupted him: “Wait, WHAT did you call me?”
Poor Thaco cried: “Things move too fast! And have since my debut In R-1: To the Aid of Falx From Nineteen Eighty Two! And if you’d seen what I have seen Then you’d smoke bubbles, too!”
Finally he stepped aside, At last the way was clear. The Satyr ambled stealthily With open eyes and ears And pressed them to a wagon large To see what he could hear.
"The time has come," Witch and Light said, "To talk of things galore Of prizes—plans—and kenku pests— and ever so much more— But first we’d better ask inside Those spying at our door!”
Dramatis Personae
Jexim, a puzzled, puzzling fairy Jeremy Plum, operator of the Pixie Kingdom and bestower of silly names Biscuit, a talkative hamster Pinecone, a riding-pug Zephixo, dwarven inventor and mastermind behind the Mystery Mine Ernest Wilde, middle-aged calliope master currently inhabiting the body of his pet monkey Marigold, his button-collecting goblin assistant Dirlagraun, a kindly but inefficient displacer beast, minder of lost children and property Thaco, a bubble-smoking clown who is long past his prime
Certain Things Were Said
"Worried I was, with talk of missing supper." - Arix Specklefoot
"Could you not just purchase a new pair?" - Skerrek Tirael "Not like this, man." - Sylenos
"If you'd see the things I've seen, you'd smoke a bubble pipe, too." - Thaco
"Is this it?" - Dirlagraun "NO." - Everyone

Part III: On the Trail of the Kenku

What Just Happened? (In the style of The Hunting of the Snark)
"Where the heck is our stuff? We just want to know This Harengon ain't getting bigger, Arix has no idea of where to go And lies send poor Skerrek a-quiver!"
"Would you get back to work?" Mister Light cried, Twirling his cane with a smile, "Otherwise find where this kenku pest hides; She's cramping this carnival's style!"
"Well, that was a bust," said our heroes, conferring, "Anyone got a suggestion? If we need to pull strings to get back our things Then there are some folk we should question."
"Time's an illusion, free will a delusion!" Sylenos' mentor decreed, "Get a contusion battling occlusions, Or relax and have some of this…wait, what was I saying?"
Sylenos proclaimed: "A genius flawed!" "A man/dragon ahead of his time." Skerrek looked at his claws; Holafina at paws, And the other two just rolled their eyes
"A centuar I'm not! I just made a bad trade The "Cloppinton's" just serendipitous, Now lend me your aid and you'll maybe persuade These horsies to drop some significance."
Then they took to the skies on a dragonfly ride (Holafina and Skerrek abreast), When you're this high there's just nowhere to hide (And to which Sylenos attests)
Now Skerrek honed on a runaway gnome Who was fleeing the carnage with glee, Holafina struck home and that's it for this poem For the gnome was the kenku, you see.
Dramatis Personae
Mister Witch, a matter-of-fact elf, devoid of pretense Mister Light, a flamboyant elf, luminous and coy Burly, a philosophical, pumpkin-helmeted bugbear Mandragon, a seeker of truth (and not much else) Diana Cloppington, a centaur who is apparently not, operator of the Carousel Northwind, a very forthcoming treant, operator of the Dragonfly Rides
Certain Things Were Said
"There’s something weird going on. For some reason everyone thinks I don’t do anything around the carnival." - Sylenos
"It's true, Miss Cloppinton! We've ALL lost things." - Arix Specklefoot
"Wait, when did we have biscuits?" - Jexim

Part IV: Through the Looking Glass

What Just Happened? (In the style of A Boat Beneath a Sunny Sky)
Now hear the Kenku’s strange reply (As Arix struggles to apply Triage to these pixie guys)
Asking questions, getting nought Set her on a different course: High sabotage without remorse!
And what has got her so irate Is what’s she trying to intimate: Zybilna has been quiet of late!
Ignore the rest, and let’s take flight To confront dear Witch and Light (Surprisingly, they’re quite contrite)
To keep the carnival in motion A tapestry of lies was woven: A deal with the Hourglass Coven!
Who take from those who can’t afford Entrance through the Witchlight’s doors Miscellanea adored
So THAT’s who taken all your junk! Time to find these Hourglass punks! Which way to this Feywild dump?
But first we’ll make a brief aside So Candlefoot can vocalise His mermaid love (now legalised)
Now the pair can tie the knot And while we’re passing time why not Ride the fabled Bubble Pot?
Yet ere you all are translocated (Everybody’s breath now bated) Arix must be coronated!
The time of truth has come at last Hesitation as you pass Though the hallowed looking glass
Are you afraid to lose your minds? What lies ahead? What lies behind? What do you expect to find?
Will Skerrek ever fabricate? Or Holafina emulate A bunny’s median height and weight?
Shall Jexim’s memoirs find acclaim? Can Monty locate Bobbitt Fane? (…hang on, that’s a different game)
Does Arix ever find the door? And will Sylennos flee the cause To study unemployment law?
Dramatis Personae
Kettlesteam, a mischievous patron of Zybilna Paleesha, a mellifluous mermaid, now reunited with Candlefoot
Certain Things Were Said
“Sylenos, perhaps in eight years you can come back and find your lost employment.” - Skerrek
“Ask me where the exit is.” - Arix Specklefoot “Where is the exit?” - Mister Light “I don’t know.” - Arix

I could handle the rates. I could handle the overnights. I could handle the physical demands. The managers breathing down my neck. The conveyors/ARSAWs constantly jamming. The half-mile power walk from my car to my station (I was at DEN4). The cross training and labor sharing and working-well huddles and MET and the constant pain in my back.
Turns out what finally did me in was the monotony. Several hours into my shift today and my brain was just like, “Nope. That’s enough. We’re done now.”
Idk why it happened today. Idk what changed after all this time, but I literally stepped off my pick station, submitted my resignation on AtoZ, clocked out, handed in my badge, and left.
No clue what’s gonna happen now but let me tell you, the anxiety I feel about not having a job pales in comparison to the amount of fucking relief I feel rn. Like I walked out into the parking lot and looked up at the stars, and it felt like the first time I’ve really seen them in years.
I’m sure this high is gonna wear off as soon as bills are due, but fuck it. I’ve worked tons of shitty jobs, and this was by far the most soul crushing. It’s not even a hard job, but when I find myself fantasizing about falling onto the AR floor and getting run over by a pod, I think it’s time to go.
I wish you all well. May your VTO be plentiful, and may your patience be stronger than mine. Good luck!

I think I was set up by a coworkefriend but I could be wrong. It is driving me crazy because I considered this person to be one of my best friends!
I was fired from a job I absolutely loved on Monday, seemingly out of nowhere. I had no warning. My boss came in unannounced and told me "I wasn't a good fit" for the manager position and that I wasn't "embracing the property the way they needed me to".
Background info: I worked at this property (I am a property manager) for 7 years collectively. I worked there for 3 years prior as a concierge and was promoted to assistant manager. I left cordially after realizing there was no opportunity to grow and worked at another location for five years. In 2020 I was asked to come back directly by the owner and I was offered the assistant manager position. I was promoted to manager in 2023. Our numbers were fantastic, I was meeting and exceeding budget every quarter, and resident retention was the highest it's ever been. I never received a complaint or bad review. I loved working at this location. The people and the job itself were awesome. I looked forward to coming to work every day.
Three weeks ago I was extremely ill. I wrote a text to my boss letting them know that I couldn't come in and in my delirious state (fever of 104°) I thought I sent it. It turns out I never hit send. I did however enter my time off in the time management system. I wasn't hiding the fact that I was out sick. I got suspended for one day for improperly notifying them of my absence. This is the only infraction I can think of, and my boss never even brought it up when she fired me.
Why I think I could have been set up:
1) My coworker disappeared as soon as they saw that I was being pulled into a meeting with our boss.
2) My coworker did not reach out after it happened. This was super odd to me because we typically talked every single day, we hung out outside of work, our kids went to the same daycare and played together, etc. I considered them to be one of my best friends.
3) When they did reach out a day later, they started their first sentence with "I never wanted this to happen, especially like this". That totally caught me off guard. It's just a weird thing to say if you weren't involved.
4) I found out they knew our boss was coming but she didn't tell me.
5) They now have my job and one of their best friends (who I also thought was a good friend of mine) moved up to their position.
It sucked enough to lose a job I loved, but finding out that a close friend might have had something to do with it is beyond heartbreaking. Am I just looking for something that isn't there? Or do I have valid reasons to be suspicious? All thoughts and opinions are welcome, but please be kind. I'm kind of in a delicate place right now. My anxiety is so bad because I'm jobless and possibly losing a friendship.

I really don’t know what’s going on… I’ve been dissociating since I was in his apartment I think… was this my fault????
Met up with this guy from Grindr he told me he is 37, I’m 18. He told me he was just looking for friends, no sex, which is what I’m looking for, we meet at a park and he starts making me touch his dick and touching him. He said I was looking tense and I wasn’t really talking much (I was pretty nervous, was shaking and pretty tense). He told me he’d get some alcohol and we’d go to his apartment so I could drink and loosen up. At this point I didn’t want to go but we were on the street.. how do you fucking run away?????? I could’ve try to run away but he was waaay bigger than me and if he caught me I was scared he would’ve beat me up… (he kept bragging abt how we was so good at fighting and he would fight anyone, etc… big red flag but I was too scared to go). We got to his apartment which was sketchy afffff, not really an apartment but a room. He got completely undressed and said he was a nudist, so he wasn’t doing anything sexual. And blamed me for implying that him being naked was sexual and I ended up looking like the horny one… kept insisting I took my clothes off but I told him no. He then grabbed me and started rubbing his dick against me. I wasn’t engaging at all but he kept doing it. For so many other reasons he was a weirdo and a creep… but I was in his apartment and it would’ve been difficult to escape, so my plan was to turn him off, talk for a bit and then go.
But he kept insisting and then he physically grabbed me and started being all over me and tickling me… 😓this sounds so pathetic ik but I’m really ticklish and he kept saying he’d stop if I took off my tshirt. Even though he kept tickling I resisted and didn’t take off my shirt. Eventually he got tired and took it off me. He commented on my body and how I was too fat… but I’m so confused… why’d he try to have sex with me if I’m not hot???????
Once I was shirtless he kept grabbing me and pinning me down, I couldn’t move and I was scared that if I tried to get free he would think I was trying to escape and not let me go/get violent… all of this time he kept asking for me to kiss him, and he tried to manipulate me by telling me that if I really wanted us to be friends and for him to be my boyfriend I had to do what he wanted me to do in order to satisfy him… told me that was the point of a relationship, making the other person happy even if you don’t wanna do something… he kept trying to convince me to kiss him… alternating with “oh it’s okay if you don’t wanna kiss me, I would never force you” bullshit…
I was really not into him and he was so fucking ugly (looked way older than 37, at least 50) so I obviously didn’t fall for any of that crap, but it didn’t matter that I didn’t believe it, he forced me into the bed and he’d rub his dick on me, he’d lick my fucking face and my ears, his dick smelled and his body was greasy… it was extremely disgusting, he was ugly, but he thought he was so hot cause he’s muscular, had a big dick, and according to him all guys were after him (he’s a foreigner that’s why). But it literally didn’t matter, he was so disgusting to me… every now and then he’d try to take my pants off or he’d touch my crotch, I was soft af 💀💀💀and he’d ask me why im soft… bruh, i had been physically resisting… i was not into him AT ALL, it was fucking disgusting…. I just wanted to go or find any excuse to go.
When he’d pin me down and force my arms he would bite my nipples… which hurt so fucking much. It progressively got worse and worse to the point that it felt almost like he was torturing me (???), my nipples are extremely bruised rn and they hurt so much. I tried not to move cause he was biting so fucking hard I thought it would ripped them… this was extremely painful. I was telling him to stop but I guess he took it as if I was into bdsm or I was into pain?????? I never told him that? I think he was trying to hurt me. He kept trying and insisting in taking my pants off. He said plenty of times he’d stop if I took of my pants. When I resisted he’d bite me like this or tickle me… every now and then he managed to open my pants and take them down a bit… but I always managed to get them back up.
One of this times he was pulling my pants down he also pulled my underwear and put my dick in his mouth… this was so fucking intrusive and I got so fucking scared. i resisted and told him “yeah we’ll do it just wait” but he was pulling me to him. I quickly put my dick back in (I stayed soft through all of this, mind you). And I got on top of him, like engaging… I found out this to be a good tactic. When he was trying to pin me down or getting to much I would “take control” as he said and make him think I wasn’t trying to set myself free, but trying to “ride” him(?). That was so relieving cause I could be free for a little bit. When he got to pin me down he’d put his dick so close to my face, thank god it didn’t touch my face, I was so grossed out. IT LITERSLLY SMELLED!!!
This was so fucking scary…. My glass with the alcohol he had poured me was in the counter, next to a kitchen knife. I kept leaving my glass there after I drank so I could reach for the knife anytime. Every now and then I would ask him to stop so I could drink, but he didn’t let me and he kept getting all over me.
All of this time (like 2 hours) I refused and managed for him to not kiss me. But at the end, some times I let my guard down he literally kissed me… fuck that was nasty. It happened like 4 times. Obviously they were quick kisses since I would move my head out instantly…
A little after that we went out, I told him I’d let him fuck me at my house… so we were walking outside and a crowd walked past us, it was the perfect opportunity (he was walking in front of me) so I blended with them for a little and then I ran. I hopped on a random bus that was going by and kept going until I was far. Then I went home…
All of this happened like 4-5 hours ago… I told him to fuck off on Grindr and it says he’s 0m away… I’m scared as fuck. When I was at his apartment he kept talking how he would beat up my dad or brother if they ever hurt me or said something bad abt me… if he’s actually around here I think we’re in danger. But has anyone had that glitch???? I immediately turned off my location permits for Grindr after I ran away so could it be that it’s glitched???? But I’ve refreshed so many times and it keep saying 0m. Every single profile does update the location but his keeps saying 0m. Is it possible that he followed me???? Or is it just a glitch?

Age: 21
Sex: Male
Height: 191 cm
Weight: 75 kg
Race: White
Duration of complaint: 1 year
Location: Groin (on the left between genitalia and belly button)
Any existing relevant medical issues: Dermatitis (appears usually in summer)
Current medications: None
A spot Appeared 1 year ago and grew bigger, has a slight bump (mostly flat), rarely itchy, no pain, seems that it stopped growing or I’m not attentive enough, brown color (has a fading shade of brown going outwards). Wish I could post a picture, but not allowed. (Thought might be a spot from friction or just a random melanin spot).

Single mom... holding two jobs. Heavy financial worries are keeping me from sleeping several nights a week. My body feels so fatigued, but I cannot shut off our family's personal crises or economic hardships from my mind. It's been several years since my husband's tragic passing. Rarely have I ever taken a day off since then! But, I'm now worried this way of life will ultimately take my own health/remaining life away from our young daughter.. who only has me left remaining as her parent. What is the fix though if holding 2 jobs already can't be the fix?? We have applied for financial assistance a couple of years back and were denied for being over the income limit. So, more work it is! Because, I would be a fool & clearly refuse to let go of our home. What more can our society really give to help upend this massive (multiple years running) inflation along with a heavily broken social system... before we all just buckle?? I know I'm definitely not the only one lying here awake at night... and inside such a deep level of physical/emotional pain. I just wanted to share a small piece of mine. There is strength in numbers. And surely, we can't cry! I apologize in advance though if my burning candle at two ends prevents me from responding to a reply. However, this was my first Reddit post. How does it rank?

I am myopic and been wearing glasses for a month now (-0.25 left and -1right) but I suddenly noticed that when I try to move my iris side to side to extreme position my right eye starts paining with higher number any reason for that or I am just facing consequences of eye strain. Also can someone pls recommend me something to control my myopia i am 19 and i take break every hour to look at distant objects when I am studying or using a screen.

It’s weird to describe the feeling. I got a Casper hybrid from Costco recently and I love the feel of the bed and honestly everything about it. So I’m trying to see if the pain I feel is from the bed specifically (I sleep on my partners dreamcloud bed as well and feel like I somewhat feel it but not as sore the next day?).
Specifically I feel behind my left leg, on my hamstrings and backside of my knee being stretched when I sleep on my back. It’s literally that mild yanking feeling when you’re doing an exercise stretch. I thought it couldn’t possibly be the new mattress (2 weeks old) sinking already. But I don’t know if this is a me issue or what. I feel it when I’m in the position trying to fall asleep then the soreness comes the day after.
I try to elevate my leg with a pillow to stop the yanking stretch feeling but it’s uncomfortable to have that on me at all times. Wasn’t super noticeable but lately I’ve been waking up and I simply feel somewhat sore now specifically only in that area?
Anyone ever experienced this with a bed? I hate to return it bc I don’t really know what I’d look for in a new bed. But on the bright side I can return it as it’s Costco.

I'm sure there are a bunch of things I'm doing in MS Word that are repetitive and time-consuming, but which could be solved with a simple keybound macro. For example, it just occurred to me, after years of knowing how to create macros, that I should create a simple macro for adjusting the ruler to the left with it tabbed over once. Very simple to do but it's going to eliminate a good bit of friction from my workflow on many documents.
What's puzzling and frustrating is that this is not the first macro I've created to save myself from slowly and clumsily adjusting the ruler (Lord help you if you're trying to use a trackpad). It's just the first macro I've made for this particular adjustment. A smart AI looking over my shoulder would have spotted me doing this within minutes of me ever doing it more than a few times within X timeframe and then popped up with a helpful suggestion.
You've failed me, Clippy!

TW: Alcoholism, drug addiction, violence, suicidal ideation, sex abuse
This is going to be a LLLLLOOONNNNGGGGG one. This story goes back quite a way, but yesterday was the tenth anniversary of the ending to this story and I'm feeling it, still got some guilt about everything that happened, wondering what I could have done differently and I just want to vent it out and hope to get some closure from it.
This story started in 2010.
Characters in this story (names are fake, duh!):

• Me, Guy, 32M at the time, 45 now.
• My BFF Stephanie, 33F at the time.
• Stephen, 40M at the time, Stephanie's boyfriend.
• Maryse, 27F at the time.

Background and intro
I had known Stephanie for many years and we had the kind of friendship that made her BFs and my GFs uncomfortable to put it lightly. We had never crossed that boundary and I wouldn't consider us in the friendzone, we were just friend, but the kind of friend where she would sit on my lap with her arms around my neck or her head on my shoulder.
At the start of 2010, Stephanie met her then boyfriend, Stephen. He tolerated me and my friendship with Stephanie because I also had a gf back then. She liked Stephanie, wasn't at all jealous of my friendship with her, so he didn't deem me too suspicious. Then my gf and I broke up for reasons unimportant and all hell broke loose for Stephen. He became convinced that I would try and steal Stephanie from him. He insisted that Stephanie introduce me to her female friends or female friends of his. Thus began what I called the year of the 50 blind dates. It was probably closer to 20, but still I like saying the year of 50 blind dates. Most of them were unremarkable and never went beyond the first date. There are some fun stories in there if anyone wants to hear them eventually!
In July of that year, I had to switch gears because I had to focus up and study for a professional exam for a certification important to my career. This exam required close to 600-800 hours of study over a 3-4 month period. So I hunkered down, told Stephanie to stop the blind dates for now because I had to focus on that. She respected my wishes and, other a text here or there, we went low contact for the last two months before the exam.
Except for one fateful night in September. Her birthday was in September and she always threw these big bashes at her house. She would throw a big pool party that started around noon and would go on to the wee hours of the morning. I knew she would harass me to go to her party, so I made some quick math and figured I would lose more energy and time trying to dodge her calls, texts and most likely visits at my place than by just going to the party itself. So when she called me to ask, I just said: "Okay I'll go to your damn party, now git." I texted her I would get there in the evening probably around 8. She texted back "Great, can't wait. Now study, bitch!"
So I ultimately get there around 8PM. Basically everybody is already drunk off their gourd. Stephanie sees me, squeals in excitement and runs to me in her bikini and just jumps in the air and slams into me, wraps her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist and gives me a big hug. I hug her back and just keep walking back to the pool where she had started, carrying her with me. I just duck my head around hers and say hi to Stephen, who just glares at me.
She drops back down and I give her her gift. We chat for a few seconds and says "There's beer in the fridge and food in the dining room." I told her I'd be right back.
I go inside and grab a beer from the fridge. I head to the dining room and the table is against the wall with a buffet of sandwiches, tomato pizza, salads, etc. I grab a plate and start putting food on it. I was focused on the task because I was starving. I barely noticed, sitting at the end of the table one of the most stunning woman I have ever seen. I just see her in my peripheral vision and I do a quick double take, quick glance at her and back to the food. I do that a second time. And finally a third time. At that point she is just straight up staring at me and I can't help but chuckle and whisper under my breath "Subtle Guy, sub-tle".
Thankfully she starts laughing too, saving me some embarassment. I look at her and greet her. She says "Hi, I'm Maryse and I'm guessing you're Guy?" I just nod and we start talking. At that point, I just thought I have no shot with her, she's so far out of my league that I'm just gonna talk to her until she sees one of the "models" hanging out by the pool and ditches me for him.
So I'm not feeling like I'm playing for anything, so I'm just myself and not nervous, just talking to her as I would any friend. We chat and she laughs at all my jokes, she gets all my cultural references. She never gets up or ditches me. The plate of food I had made and the beer I had gotten are sitting on the table next to me untouched, I was too busy with the convo to think about food or beer anymore.
After what felt like only 20-30 minutes, Stephanie comes in and tells me, fake grumpy: "So that's where you disappeared to. I invite my best friend to a party and he spends the whole night talking to someone else." I laugh and go: "What do you mean the whole night? I haven't been here that long." She says "Dude, it's 2AM. You've been here for 6 hours..." My jaw dropped and I just said: "Wow, time flies when you're having fun." Maryse chimes in, with a big smile: "It sure does!" That made me happy as you can imagine.
Now I was a little stuck because where Stephanie lived, there's no night service for the bus and the subway had been closed for an hour or so. I figured I would cab it. So I turn to Maryse and tell her: "It was absolutely lovely to meet you and I enjoyed our conversation very much." She says that she did too. I continued with "At the moment, my schedule is incredibly hectic. I'm basically working full-time, studying full-time and sleeping part-time. So I don't have a lot of free time, but if she was interested, whatever little free time I had, I would love to call her or text her to keep on getting to know her."
I see Stephanie in the backgroudnd, looking like a proud mama at how smooth that came out, knowing I was always anything but smooth with women, as proven by the string of blind dates! Maryse has a big smile and we exchange numbers. I go to Stephanie to wish her a happy birthday again. While I'm talking to her, my phone buzzes with a text from Maryse: "Just checking!"
I asked Stephanie "What's the best cab company to call in this area?" Maryse chimes in: "Where do you live?" I tell her where I lived and she goes "It's on the way to where I live, I can give you a ride if you want." Stephanie raised an eyebrow in surprise. I learned later, she did it because it absolutely was not on the way to her place, like, at all. I say that I would love that as it would give us a chance to keep talking.
We get in her car, driving to my place. We talk, she asks me what I'm studying as I hadn't mentioned it earlier. I tell her all about the boring maths I had to study. Much too quickly, we get to my place. She parks in front of my building and we keep talking. At some point, I tell her: "Normally, this is where I would try to "trick" you into coming up to my place..." She interrupts me: "You wouldn't need to trick me. I'm willing and able!"
I tell her that "As tempting as that sounds, I know who I am and I know that if you come up and things proceed to where they're going, I'm not going to be able to study for the rest of the month. I have a kind of obsessive mind and when I find someone or something I like, I can push everything else to the side in favor of that. So to make sure I can still focus on my studying, I have to go up by myself."
She looks at me, a little disappointed but then says, half-jokingly: "We don't have to go up, there's a backseat right there!" We laugh and I give her a kiss and wish her a good night. I managed to stay strong and go back to my condo. Damn it, why did I have to stay strong!!!
My exam was at the beginning of november. During the month of october, we texted a bunch of times and talked on the phone. We went for coffee a couple of times and dinner once. She respected my boundaries and never pushed for more, which I appreciated but also hated at the same time, if that makes sense. The exam came and it was a monster of a Friday. I slept for basically 18 hours after the exam as the adrenalin dropped and my system crashed.
I texted her when I woke up at around 1PM. She was working at the clothing store Stephanie owned. She said "I'm off at 5PM, wanna meet me." I said: "Duh! Why do you think I'm texting? ;)" So I met her at the store downtown. I asked if she wanted to grab a drink, go for dinner, or what. She proposed going to her place and getting some take out. Stephanie who was closing the store at that moment, came up to us and said: "Hey, so what are we doing?" I said: "WE, that is Maryse and I, are going to her place and getting some takeout. Bye!" I'm sure you'll understand when I tell you that no food was ever ordered that night!
Thus followed a whirlwind month of November where any free time we had was spent together, and I wasn't going to complain!
The troubles
By the start of december, things were still going great with us. One saturday night, we were having dinner at a restaurant and I mention that this coming Friday is my office Christmas party, that it's employees only, so we wouln't see each other that night. She tells me: "Oh sure, that's fine! It'll give me a chance to go see some girlfriends I've been neglecting lately." I said "Great! BTW I also got us a reservation at [this great restaurant she had mentioned a few times] for next Saturday, so we could go there and I'll tell you all about my party and you can tell me all about her night with the girls!"
That was settled, I thought. I was wrong. On Thursday, we had spent the evening together at her place and I was about to leave to go back to my place. She tells me: "So are you coming to meet me at the store tomorrow or do I go to your place?" I reminded her: "Neither, tomorrow is my office Christmas party and we won't see each other tomorrow." She said: "Oh right, I forgot." I asked her if she had made plans with her friends like she had mentioned last saturday. She said that they were all busy tomorrow and weren't available.
She suggested "If your party is boring, maybe you could come meet me." I retorted that it wasn't going to be, knowing who was going to be there.
"Yeah but what if?"
"But it won't"
"But what IFFFFFF?" she kept insisting and I kept saying no. After what felt like 30 minutes of that (probably only 2-3 minutes in reality), I had enough and just said to end the argument: "Okay, if it's boring, I'll come. but it won't be." She said: "Cool" with a big smile on her face. I came to learn that that smile meant "Challenge accepted".
The following night, my colleague and I were pregaming in a conference room before leaving for the party proper and my phone buzzes. Maryse was wishing me a good party. I replied. She texted me again. I replied. She texted again, but I was in a conversation with a colleague so I didn't reply or even look at the phone. My phone buzzes again. Still talking, and didn't want to be rude to my colleague. Another buzz. I just kept talking. Phone buzzes differently, she was now calling because I hadn't answered her texts.
"Why aren't you replying to my texts?"
"Hey, sorry, was talking to my colleague Patrick."
"What? you don't want to talk to me?"
"I am talking to you now."
"Why didn't you reply to my texts?"
"Because it would have been rude to my colleague to pull my phone out while talking to him."
"But you're talking to me now."
"Because I thought something was wrong, maybe it was an emergency."
"I wanted to talk to you, that's all."
"Well, gotta go back to the party. Talk to you later."
She kept texting and if I didn't reply right away, she would call after two or three missed texts. After about 2 hours of this, I stopped answering the texts. When she called back, I asked her: "Aren't you supposed to be working?" which started another round of guilt-tripping of "why are you asking me this? you don't want to talk to me?" At that point I had had enough and wanted to enjoy my party. I remembered that the Blackberry (no shaming old tech!) I had had an annoying feature, but I was hoping to put it to good use at that moment.
Whenever the battery would get really low, like less than 1%, it would let out an ear-piercing BEEP for about 3 seconds, reminiding you to charge it and giving you a heart attack all at the same time. It would do that even when you were in silent mode. It had happened a few days earlier when I was with Maryse. I figured, if I press a button on the Blackberry, it would make a beep too that could be heard through the phone. So while I was talking to Maryse, I pressed my thumb on the space bar for a good 3 seconds and sputtered; "what... the .... what?" trying to put on a somewhat believable performance.
She asked what that noise was and I tell her that it was my blackberry letting me know I was low battery and it might shut off any second. I told her "Listen I'm gonna wish you a good night, I'm having a good time at my party so I'll see you tomorrow at 5PM to go spend our evening together. I hope you have a good....." and hung up mid-sentence. I promptly shut my phone off and went back to the party. I concede that I may be a bit of an AH for that move.
The party was great, I got drunk much quicker than I expected owing to the fact that I hadn't had a drink in over two months because Maryse didn't drink so I didn't either when we were together, and we were always together. At 1AM, I went home and passed out on my bed.
This is another place where I may have been an AH. I didn't turn my cell phone back on and I unplugged my home line too, because I wanted to sleep the deep sleep of the drunkard. I woke up at around 1:30 PM, not knowing it was already too late. In my mind, I was meeting Maryse at 5PM to go out on the town that night. Maryse had other ideas as you'll see.
So like I said, I woke up at 1:30PM and was sticky with alcohol sweat, so I went straight for the shower to get clean again. While in the shower, my stomach grumbled with hunger and I started daydreaming of bacon and eggs. That pushed me out of the shower right quick. I dried myself off quickly, tied the towel around my waist and went to the fridge. No bacon.... booo. Looked at the egg compartment... no eggs... booo again. Okay then, how about a cream cheese bagel. No cream cheese, damn it. Look in the pantry, no bagels.... god. I was starting to get angry. Okay, cereals then. I pick up the cereal box, that mofo was empty and I get mad: "who's the idiot who puts the empty box back in the pantry?" I remembered I live alone.
I close the fridge dejected and see the grocery list stuck on the fridge, taunting me with everything I wanted to eat for breakfast written on it. But I felt like if I went to the grocery store hungry as I Was, I'm just gonna pay 600$ and not get one single healthy thing to eat. I then remembered there's a restaurant next to the grocery store that serves breakfast until 3PM. I get excited! I get dressed quickly, grab my wallet and keys, put my boots on, my coat on, wrap my scarf, my tuque and my gloves and go to the restaurant. If you notice, I didn't mention my phone in there.
I get to the restaurant and confirm that they still have breakfast and get even more excited when she confirms it. I order the "heart attack", at least that's how I nicknamed it: 3 eggs, 3 servings of bacon, 2 sausages, and, I guess to give one peace of mind, fruit (or to be precise, one single solitary slice of orange). Now that the food is ordered and coming I figured I would check if I have any messages. I pat the pocket where my phone always is. No phone. uh-oh. I start clutching evert pocket, no luck.
I wonder if I should go back home after the meal before going to the grocery store and decide against it, it would be too long a detour. So I scarf my breakfast down, rush through the grocery store. I get home and set my bags down in front of the fridge. I go pick up my blackberry. I turn it back on. The little tape icon tells me there are messages on my voicemail, at that time there were no red dots with a number in it to tell you how many.
I connect to the voicemail while starting to put the groceries away. The little automated voice tells me "You have 25 new messages." I pull the phone away from my ear, look at it in disbelief as if saying: "are you f'ing kidding me?" So I press 1 to start playing the messages.
Remember: Maryse knew I was at a party with a dead phone, no chargers and I probably wouldn't get home until 1AM. From 6:30PM, when my phone died, to 11:34 PM, when she went to sleep she left me 9 messages. BTW I know she went to sleep at 11:34PM because she left me a message saying "it's 11:34PM and I'm going to bed. Thinking of you." The 9 messages were in the same vein. These are the salient details, but the messages were all much longer.
She woke up at 7:15 the following day, I'll let you guess how I know that tidbit of information! She left me 5 more messages like those from the day before: 7:15 woke up. 7:35 going to take a shower. 7:55 out of the shower. 8:25 getting ready to leave for work 8:50 walking out of the subway to go to the store.
She leaves me another message at 9 that was different. She sounded very excited as if she had had the best idea in the world: "Hey it's 9AM, I'm about to start my shift. I know we're only supposed to meet after my shift, but what if you came and met me for lunch so you could tell me all about your party." I just did my best Scooby-Doo "Ruh-Roh" and chuckled that I blew that, not thinking the calamity that was awaiting me.
Another couple of messages to talk logistics: "I could take my lunch at 12 or 12:30, let me know which you prefer." "I'm taking my lunch at 12:30"
A slightly worried message: "It's 11:15 and you stil have not said if you were coming or not, are you okay?"
The first bomb goes off and I knew I was in trouble then: "Where are you? We're supposed to meet for lunch and you still haven't given me any sign of life, you're not answering your home phone either, what happened?" Reminder: we were not supposed to meet for lunch, she suggested doing so a couple of hours earlier and I never agreed to anything. I guess she told her colleagues I would meet her for lunch and it was now fact and could perhaps make her look bad in front of her colleagues.
The second bomb drops: "It's almost noon now, WHERE ARE YOU? Stephanie says you're probably sleeping off your drunk, but I don't believe her. I'm sure you got yourself a slut and cheated on me. Didn't you? didn't you, you asshole." Stephanie knows me very well, but that wasn't enough for Maryse it seems.
Ensued four more messages from 12:30 to 1:15, where she starts sounding more and more drunk and accusatory, spewing more attacks like in the message above. At that point I already knew it was over, there was no coming back from that. I can understand having trust issues, but that was nuclear. I don't tolerate jealousy because of horrible experiences with a couple of jealous toxic exes.
A final message comes in, and it's a different voice, that of my best friend being more than a little angry: "Hey Guy, listen, Maryse tells me you had a Christmas party yesterday, so I'm guessing you're sleeping off your drunk, still. But call me when you get this. I put Maryse, who's f'ing drunk, in the backstore so she can dry off and "do inventory". She can't be on the sales floor obviously and I just don't feel safe sending her home in the state she's in. Call me to tell me how you want to handle this."
At that point I had finished putting away my groceries and had put my boots and my coat on and was making my way to the subway to go to the store. I call Stephanie and tell her I got the messages and I was coming. She was right, I was sleeping off my drunk and had just woke up (didn't feel the need to mention the breakfast and grocery store). I ask her if she knows what I'm gonna do when I get there. She says that she knows and understands. She knows my bad history.
When I get out of the subway, I call her again before getting to the store. I ask her how she wants me to do this. It's her store and I don't want to create drama in front of her customers. Does she want me to wait outside and she tells Maryse to meet me in the street or do I go in the store and she takes me to the backstore and I do it there? She says to come to the store.
I walk in the store and every saleswomen on the floor looks at me and gives me the biggest case of the stink-eye. They only have Maryse's side of the story, so they think I did all these horrible things. I see Stephanie in the middle of the store and I walk towards her. She shakes her head and points me towards the cash register. I look over there and see Julia, a salesperson that I've known for a couple of years and really like, who also happens to be the biggest gossip in the store. I understand what Stephanie is trying to do. She's gonna make me tell her my story in front of Julia so Julia can spread the "good news" to the other employees and rehabilitate my name possibly.
So I get to the register and say Hi to Julia. She barely acknoledges me. Steph joins me. She asks me:
"How are you?"
"I was better an hour ago, before I listened to those voicemails. I had gone to our office party last night, had a great night, got drunk off my ass, got home at around 2 and woke up around 2."
Julia asks "Maryse told us you were supposed to meet her for lunch."
"No we weren't. I have a reservation for tonight at XYZ restaurant. I was supposed to take the day to do errands, stuff around the condo and meet her here at closing time. She suggested that it could be fun if I came at lunchtime to meet her, but that was never the plan."
Julia asks again "But why didn't you answer your phone?"
"It ran out of battery last night during the party and when I got home, I was so drunk that I forgot to plug it back in. I only plugged it when I woke up at 2. That's when the messages came in."
Julia asks "She says she tried calling your home line and you didn't answer and your machine didn't kick in."
"Yeah, that one's my fault, I knew I wanted to sleep and telemarketers have a habit of calling me early saturday mornings so I didn't want to be awoken by a call for a rug cleaning service, so I unplugged it yesterday morning, knowing I would be drunk when I got home and forget and be angry if I was awakened by a telemarketer."
Julia gave me a hint of a smile, showing me she was starting to believe me. She asked me a few more questions and then she asked what I was gonna do. I told her that whatever I'll do, I would tell Maryse first.
I looked at Stephanie and said: "Can you open the back store so I can go see her?" So we went to the backstore. As we reached the door, it swung opened and out popped Maryse, looking absolutely terrifying, I actually jumped back when I saw her. Her usual perfect makeup was completely smeared, her mascara streaking down her cheeks from the crying. Her hair was disheveled. She was a mess. Apparently, she had had enough of waiting back there and was planning on leaving the store to go home and had put her coat and boots on.
When she saw me, she went into an unhinged rant about me being an asshole for cheating on her, me not being great in bed, me not treating her right, etc. I let her vent everything she had to say, I looked at Stephanie and apologized for creating such a scene in her store. I tell Maryse we should go outside and talk in private. She keeps on yelling, but when I grab her hand to lead her outside, she follows.
When we get outside, her anger had started to wane a little, or maybe just her energy. I was able to talk to her to explain everything, how I had gotten drunk, had overslept (alone) and woke up at 2PM. I reminded her that we were only supposed to meet at 5PM not for lunch. The anger was leaving her and a smile almost appeared on her face. Through all of this I was being very calm and patient with her, which she interpreted as me not being mad at her. I then said in a firmer tone: "However..." and let it hang for a second.
The beginning smile vanished. I continued: "When you accused me of cheating on you, that broke me. That triggered memories of toxic exes who would always accuse me of cheating, not trusting me when I would tell them where I was, snooping on me, stalking me. Because of those experiences, I have a zero tolerance policy for jealousy. I told her that if she was behaving like after only two months of dating, it didn't bode well for the future and I have to protect myself."
At that, the tears started again and she just turned and ran/waddled away. I told her to wait, but she didn't hear me. I turned towards the entrance of the store to see basically all the employees and customers milling around the door trying to catch the drama. I went back inside to talk to my best friend. The mood had definitely changed and no one was giving me the stink eye anymore, but I didn't really care. I was just sad that it had ended, but proud of myself for having stood up for myself.
So AITA for getting drunk and keeping my phone turned off?
There is a lot more to this story and if you want to learn what happened afterwards, then read on.
The immediate aftermath
So I went back inside the store and talked to Stephanie. I told her that I had a reserrvation for XX restaurant and if she wanted to go with Stephen, she could take it, I wasn't in the mood for a dinner. She said "I already have plans for tonight, but thanks for offering." Julia said she would go with me if I wanted, but I just said that I wasn't in the mood to go out. I just wanted to crash and eat a pizza and get into a food coma.
Stephanie said she didn't feel comfortable leaving me by myself and I should join them at her house. They were having friends over to play board games and it could at least distract me a little. I said why not. So brimming with enthusiasm, I went to play bored games. I left early as I wasn't in the mood. I was feeling a little better, but still a bit down. I thanked Stephanie for the invite and left. I got home and just passed out on the bed.
I woke up at around 7AM the next morning and I saw along the corners of the window the tell-tale signs of a snow-drift and got excited as it was the first snow of the season. I pushed the curtains aside and looked on to see a beautiful white carpet outside. It was early enough that very few cars had marred the whiteness. I was admiring it when I noticed that, against the red bricks of the building across the street, there was a pink blotch. As I focused, the blotch became human shaped and I cleared my eyes enough to realize that it was Maryse and she was raising her cell phone to her ear.
On cue, my phone rings. I pick it up. Still sounding drunk, she asks me if we can speak. I ask her to give me five minutes to get dressed and I'll meet her down there. She asks why she can't come up. I say that I'm not sure I want her in my apartment. She says that it's cold out. I say: "Good, then this will be quick."
I get dressed and meet her outside. I'm still bleary-eyed from having woken up 5 minutes ago, but I try to get my wits together. I tell her that we're going to walk to the subway. It 's a 10-minute walk normally, but with her drunkenness, it might take 15-20 minutes. That's how long she has to tell me what she wants to tell me.
She wants to apologize for accusing me of cheating on her. She says she knows I'm a great guy and... I may be the A-hole at this point too, but I start to drift off in my little bubble and start daydreaming about, if I go back to bed, would there still be some residual heat or would it be cold? I could take a hot shower and warm the bed that way. I could still hear her in the background making excuses, saying how she had been cheated on, but I wasn't really listening.
During the daydreaming I notice it got quite quiet. I look on my left and she's not there, I turn around she's a good 5-6 steps behind me looking angry and she says: "you're not listening" I just say: "when you're right, you're right." I tell her that I understand she's been hurt too in the past, and I hope she can work to resolve her issues, but I was done and I'm going back to bed. I was a bit harsh there, but I was tired and still down.
I walk past her and get maybe 10 paces past her when I hear a scream coming from her. I turn around and I see her messing with something inside her coat. She pulls out a chef's knife with like an 8-inch blade. That wakes me the fuck up. Byebye bleary eyes, hello wakefulness. better than a cup of coffee or a red bull I tell you!
So she's got the knife, she's screaming something that I can't quite understand. She gets quiet and then she charges at me with the knife. If I'm being honest I could have stayed where I was and she probably would have missed me anyways, but someone charges at me with a knife, I'm gonna nope out of there. I take a massive side step and once she gets to where I was and realizes that I'm no longer there, she turns her head towards me and says heyyyyy.
At that point, I have a moment of clarity and see what's gonna happen. She's drunk running one way and looking another, I know she's gonna trip. As I predicted, she stumbled over her feet and starts falling to the ground. I start praying to god and anybody who would listen: "Please don't let her cut herself. I don't want to have to explain this to the doctors, EMTs and nurses. I don't want her drunk ass deciding to take revenge on me by saying I did it."
Thankfully, she winds up in a sitting position on the sidewalk holding the knife up and it was clean. Thank god for small miracles. She starts crying and, other moment of clarity, I know she's gonna turn the knife on herself now. I jump towards her and I realize I was right, the knife starts moving towards her left wrist. I tackle her, grab her right wrist and twist it so she drops the knife. I pick the knife back up and put it in my pocket. She looks at me crying and says: "Why did you stop me?"
I pick her up and take her back to my building. In my building there was a couch in the lobby, so I take her there and I sit her down and plop myself next to her. I look at her and wonder out loud: "What am I gonna do with you? What can I do?"
She goes: "Just let me go, I'll be good." I tell her that's not going to happen. I realize I have three options and I give her the three options.
"So here's the choice I give you.
1- I pull out my phone, call 911 and tell them about the attempted murder back there and they send the police to arrest you. I don't want to do that because that could derail your life and not get you the help you need. Besides, they might not do anything anyway as it's your word against mine.
2= I pull out my phone, call 911 and tell them about the attempted suicide back there and that you need to be placed on a 72 hour hold. I could do that, but at the same time, again it's my word against yours, so maybe they don't believe me.
3- I'm gonna hazard a guess here. From what I've seen, you have alcohol problems. So I'm gonna guess you were in AA, had been sober for a while, I want to say 6 months, maybe less, when we met."
She confirms my guess.
"alright so option 3, I'm guessing you had a sponsor in AA." she nods "we call them up and tell them about your relapse and what happened this morning. Can they come get you and take care of you?"
She takes her phone out and picks a contact and calls. She hands me the phone. Someone answers and I explain the situation. They said they were coming right away. I give them my address, they get here 15 minutes later. Maryse had fallen asleep in the meantime, so I wake her up gently and help her to the car. Off she went.
I went back to my apartment and just crashed back to sleep.
A month later
Mid-january, my phone rings and I see Maryse's number on there. I send her to voice mail. Another call. Voicemail again. 5 minutes later, Private number calling. "Gee I wonder who that could be." Voicemail once more.
Afterwards, I didn't get any unidentified callers for a little over a week. One afternoon, I was at work and my phone rings and it's a number I do not recognize. I pick up.
"Hello."
"Hi, is this Guy?"
"Yes, to whom am I speaking?"
"This is Hannah, Maryse's sponsor. we spoke last month." I started fearing the worst.
"Yes, I remember. How can I help you?"
"Maryse tried to reach you last week and you rejected the calls. I think it could help Maryse if you listened to what she had to say. You're obviously not obligated to entertain her, but I think despite everything that happened, you still care about her or you would not have called me that morning."
"You are right, I do still care about Maryse. I'm just not sure how good it would be for her to meet me this soon after everything that happened. I understand wanting to work through the 9th step and making amends, but..." She interrupts me.
"So you know about the steps."
"Yes I have friends in the program. which is how I could guess that she was in the program too that morning."
"You know it's important."
"I know. I know. How about this: we meet in public at a cafe, you would have to be there. Not necessarily at the table with us, but nearby in case she needs help, in case meeting me causes her pain. Tell her I promise to be in a more receptive mood than I was that morning."
So we make an appointment for that saturday afternoon.
I get to the coffee shop. She's already there, and so is her sponsor. I realize happily that she's not wearing makeup. I say happily because that means she understands that this is not a date, but something serious. She's still stunningly beautiful, and I feel sad almost right away.
I grab a coffee and go join her at the table.
"Hey" I say,
"Hey. So this is gonna be uncomfortable, but thank you for agreeing to meet me and for coming, I appreciate it more than you know. I'm sure you heard I quit the store."
"I have, I'm sorry about that, I hope you didn't do it just because of me."
"No, I needed time to focus on myself for now."
She proceeds to tell me about how I wasn't far off with my guess. She had been sober 4 months when we met. Now she had 39 days. She tells me that in AA, if you are single, they recommend not dating anyone new for at least the first year of your sobriety as it can cause issues, similar to what happened with us. I was like her "drug" and as long as I was available, she could get her fix. But the moment I wasn't available all hell broke loose, and that is what led her back to drinking that day.
I told her I'm glad to see her back sober again this quickly and I hope she can get all the help she needs from it. I ask her if she wants to talk to me about her drinking.
She starts to share a story about how she started drinking at around 11 years old. When puberty hit her, she got into a deep depression because the sexual feelings she was starting to feel were triggering responses. As a child she had been abused by two of her uncles repeatedly and her parents never believed her. They accused her of trying to make herself interesting. That was until they caught one of those uncles red-handed.
They finally believed and took the necessary steps to protect their daughter. But they were poor and they couldn't afford therapy. So she never really got help for it. At 11, she started self medicating the depression with alcohol. When alcohol wasn't enough, she added drugs.
At that point, I was full on crying. She asked me if I wanted her to stop. I told her that she doesn't have to stop. That the tears are there because that was one more thing we had in common. I was also a survivor of sexual assault as a child. In my case, it wasn't a family member, it was only a stranger, so it only happened once. But I also self-medicated with alcohol at the onset of puberty, switching to drugs later on too. I was lucky to avoid the pitfalls of addiction, but I was still dealing with my demons, slowly making peace with them.
So there we were, sitting at a coffee shop, both crying and holding each other. I tell her that I think it's great she's getting help for her alcoholism and addicion, but was she doing anything to help with the underlying issue, the original trauma? She said no, she couldn't afford therapy. I tell her that I am a member of a survivors group and if she is interested, I could get her into a meeting and perhaps learn to heal that part of herself too.
She said that she could give it a try. I tell her I have to talk to the other members to know if I can bring someone new and I would let her know. If they said yes, we would go to her first meeting together, I would introduce her and then we would coordinate so that I never went to meetings where she was. I wanted to do that because I wanted her first few meetings to be about healing and I didn't want our own history to be intertwined or mixed in with that.
After that, we left both feeling content and, while not necesarily happy, at peace if you will. Later on, I contacted Stephanie who was one of the "pillars" of the support group (that's how we met) to ask her if it was okay for me to bring in a new member to the group. She said sure. She asked if it was anyone she knew. I told her she would have to meet her at the meeting if she decides to come.
We were having a meeting the following day. I called Maryse, told her the time and place, and she said she would be there. She came to the group meeting and was shocked to see Stephanie there but Stephanie kinda guessed that it was Maryse I was referring to.
I introduce her, we start sharing stories, talking about how we're feeling, etc. The meeting was good and Maryse liked the vibe. So for the first six months after that, I never saw Maryse and we planned which meeting we would be attending to ensure we didn't cross paths. She started feeling much better.
After maybe 2 and a half years, she finally felt ready and she started dating again. She met someone and she fell for him. They were together for about six months, she looked happy. Unfortunately after about six months, she caught him cheating on her. We tried supporting her, being good friends, cursing his name, doing all the things we could to make sure she didn't relapse. But on April 5th 2014, she ODed on heroin. She was hospitalized for 2 weeks after that.
Hannah took her in and she set up a room for Maryse. She was still in a fragile state, so a group of her friends and I started taking turns watching over Maryse, making sure there was always at least one person there with her to keep her company.
Despite our vigilance, on May 14th 2014, when Hannah was out running a quick errand, she was gone maybe 15 minutes tops, Maryse found a way to cut her wrists and she died. We found a note saying that "the OD was not an accident, and neither was that. Thanks for everything you did for me. I love you all, but I can't do this anymore."
It feels good to write that story (I'll just ignore the fat tears rolling down my face!). Thanks for reading this far and sorry for the long story, I just started writing and couldn't stop. I apologize if it was a bit of a bummer.

This is a long read sorry!
Hi, I (22F) literally just joined, I have been on reddit for a while now, I post here or there but I really need the grace that only reddit seems to have, kisses but you know it's true. So, I guess, I am screaming into the void, because the truth is I am so gutturally confused.
Like the title says- I have always fantasized of being a flower child, a changeling, of turning towards the corner of the yard, the woods beckoning me to run away, the gentleness of which the coyotes would pick my bones clean. My childhood felt like a house fire only I could see.
My father's nightcap of whiskey got less and less watered down as nights were uncomfortable to spend on the family room couch. The one that he fiercely protects, once threatening my friend who mistakenly lounged in his spot. My mother's love felt scarce, a luxury only my younger sister could afford. Between that and her ambition to become the first nurse and college graduate of both families, I was more of my father's daughter. My younger sister and I were doll-like children, meek and polite to the price of our own dignity and self. To give a brief snapshot of what it was like being raised by them \~ even though "I'm remembering it all wrong, or not at all" I will try to go in chronological order, but you can quickly see most of these were not isolated incidents and I jump around:
-daily spankings because of crying during daycare drop off (fair technique)
-tricking us out of the "broken" car, in the rain on a dirt road "get gas" and proceeded to speed past us laughing as we ran after his taillights in the mud, we were in another country, on a solo trip with just our dad, we were both elementary school age.
-In elementary school and 6th grade I lived in a sweatshirt because when I hit puberty. I pleaded to my mother how hard it was to hear my father's constant comments about my womanhood and new body. He started to compare me to a hooker around this time, calling me a slut for trying to wear what my friends wore to school- leggings, shorts shorter than the knee but not offensively short I promise, though I strongly feel as clothing does not mean consent.
-For as long as I can remember, he would take pictures of us when we looked embarrassed then show it to family, friends, whoever in conversation in front of us then scold us when we inevitably felt bad or asked him to stop. He would also promise to delete the photo but would continue the previously mentioned above.
-So far, I have just been harping on my father, but the truth is they are a match made in hell, and though I feel like my mother is a victim in her own way. It was very hard to exist without their constant horrible comments about my appearance and character. They both shamed skinny children to be thinner, critiqued my body through puberty, and felt entitled to touch my body when and how they wanted. Examples include my father's frequent ass grabbing, and then allowing his adult male friend to do the same.
-They both would ridicule me for working minimum wage jobs in high school, while my father funnels out of my sister and I's joint accounts, only when we confront him does he fess that he required the money we earned for ourselves for the "mortgage". He continues as well as set monetary account goals, right before trips or plans, he would always be surprised that we had managed to scrape together enough money. He expects me to find a place that will fire and schedule me on a winter vacation, or to amount 5k in less than 3 months, while paying for my own necessities, thank you for teaching me to live on frugality as a means of survival.
-The name calling I touched on, but I would be the first to come home from school, my father would take his lunch to come home and berate me verbally of how much of a loser I am and will continue to be. The verbal arguments were daily, I fully admit to yelling back but in truth I couldn't leave his spewing red face hurling threats, I had to stay glued in place until he had his fill.
-Another solo trip with my father and sister, my mother had cleaned my room while we were away and had found my treasures- vapes, two beers. I got pulled out of the running shower to be beaten on and off through the night whenever my father took a break from tv, my sister sob in the room with my father to stop and I sat on the couch until morning. We had a tourist excursion the next day and I got it again before we left because I was not to "ruining the rest of his vacation with my bad attitude"
-They locked away my childhood cat, sick with cancer, to die alone in the basement so she would ruin their floors with her incontinence. When she passed, they did not tell me, they buried her in the woods behind our house, I wish I could lay beside her, I'm sorry little one.
-My father would come home and yell at me for not having dinner ready for him, because when my mother worked late or was not home, the next one responsible for dinner was my younger sister or me.
-He physically corners us or refuses to let us leave. Threatened my life when I tried to leave the house during an argument.
-Put his hand through the door a couple of times because I “gave attitude” by responding with ok. Readers, please note I am capable of attitude, but this was not the case, I was scared, and I just wanted to give him whatever answer he wanted
-I'm a summer birthday, so for my big 21st I had my cousin, bf and sister have a pool party in my parents' pool. No one told me the plan all day. I was told to just relax by everyone, because normally I would be running around serving people or helping my parents. No one told me anything, so we played some games in the yard, had some wine coolers and then swam. My father flies outside and starts yelling at me from the side of the pool to get my ass out and blow out my candles because he needs to drive my cousin 20 minutes home each way. So, I blew out my candles, soaking wet staring daggers because my father has always managed to underplay or make me feel bad on my birthday too? Another grievance from my 21st birthday is that my father grilled frozen steaks, and I truly do not want to seem like a stuck-up princess, but he proceeded to buy 300$ of food from my favorite restaurant and his favorite food is steak not mine. Note his birthday is the next day following mine.
I may post in regard to the tribulation that was my childhood in this thread again, but it takes a lot out of me, and I have already had myself a day sorry. Now you're all caught up and I just want you to know-
I have long ruminated over my own words and actions; though I have many regrets I do not feel ashamed of my choices or who I am because I try to treat everyone with kindness and most importantly respectability. I know the lengths my immigrant parents have gone through to build themselves a life. I know the struggles my father had with his father, the alcoholic who raised him with cruelty reserved for not even a barn animal. I know that my mother lived in the shadows as a neglected middle child hoping to find someone who realized all her good in the way her parents did not. I can see and understand that I carry the same wounds, and now it is within my responsibility to be better.
So, my relationship with my parents is strained right now. I have been in low contact with my mother and father for nearly four years, with periods of better contact. We have tried therapy, though it's difficult as my mother uses this as an opportunity to explore her wounds rather than our history or relationship. Though the therapist was helpful in directing the conversation back, I believe that the work can only happen with the person wanting to actually work on themselves, so I feel like I am at a frustrating impasse.
Every time I feel like I can take out a brick between the wall I keep between us, my mother will say something that makes me build another layer. I try not to be sensitive, yet I know my mother likes to cut with her words, though she claims otherwise. In a recent conversation my mother admitted that my father and she spent a great effort in making sure my beauty did not go to my head and did this in order to keep me humble.
For context, my mother’s side of the family does not like my father, and this along with other childhood issues festering into adulthood drove a wedge between my mother and her younger brother. His recent divorce and my mother’s empty nest have given them much time and space to rekindle their sibling relationship. So on our already strained phone calls she hits me with these metaphors of her brother and her relationship to ours. Am I off for thinking that those are two very different relationships, yet both have.. Jealousy? Furthermore, I feel a looney because I am fighting to keep them in my life, and they are fighting to be right.? To be absolved of the guilt and shame that maybe they did do the wrong thing.?
What gives them the right? When we all have to lay away at night with our guilt you want me to hold yours? I want a mother and they want a guiltless soul
Truthfully, I do not know what kind of future lies ahead for us. I think I grieve having bullies instead of parents, of what I missed out on and who I could have been. Like I said I am low contact right now, but after a normal phone call talking about the weather and our pets today, I had an anxiety attack to the point I fought to stay conscious. This has not been the first time I have fainted due to anxiety, mostly surrounding situations that remind me of them or things they punished or did to me in the past. The day after I wished my father a happy birthday after a year of no contact, I got two pills of ativan to the face after a ER visit in which they thought my poor bf was trafficking me. Though this is maybe too much, I am always sweating, my sides literally pour, my hands shake, and I can string together a sentence if I try. I feel like a different person, a moist, meek person.. which is not me, I self tattoo and pierce, I can and have tackled an attacking dog and I have punched touchy men square in the nose. I’m tough because I fought tooth and nail to be kind and gentle, we rescued cats and recently a possum, and we let out spiders and bugs, so our cats don’t terrorize them.
Here’s the thing… we’re getting married!
We’re tying the knot in the woods at the end of May, but I feel like an asshole because I have not told my parents. They know we’re engaged.
My mother, in a recent phone call, told me of this travel nurse that she had gotten close to, that was getting married soon, and invited my mother to go dress shopping with her. My mother told me how sad this girl felt that her family was all the way across the country, coincidently much like we are. This felt like she was guilting me, but she went so far as to send me a picture of a couple, I didn’t verify who it actually was.
Another issue is I am dealing with the guilt of getting a ring and bands elsewhere. My father is a high-end jeweler whose work has been showcased by celebs, my whole life I heard that my father was going to design and make my engagement ring. After long consideration, we picked out a ring from Madrid that felt more like me. When I look at my wedding rings I want to think of my husband not my father. I am more than happy with anything else, rings for other occasions, but it makes my skin crawl and my stomach curling because part of me feels as if it's more of a collar than a ring then.
My mother wants to meet over memorial weekend, she wants me to fly out a day to visit before I’m getting married.
I do not know if I should facetime them and break the news before, after or invite them. It’s already last minute so airfare will be expensive, but I know they are going to be so heartbroken. Part of me does not want them there either because I have felt alone my whole life, I figured I would do my wedding the same way, though it's hard because my fiancé's family will be there, and I will have no one. I wish I could hire a friend... lol typed that with a tear in my eye that's ironic.
Suggestions please

Hello! I want to gift my brother a sports bike for his birthday at the end of the year. My brother is a huge Bike enthusiast and used to have quite a few sports bikes like the Kawasaki Ninja that he rode frequently but had to sell a few years ago as he couldn't find time to enjoy it. My brother has been doing excellently in his personal life and career recently. He always talks about his love of bikes and wanting to get another sports bike but never ends up pulling the trigger due to him being extremely frugal. So, I want to gift him his dream bike for his birthday. I am a Car Girl at hear and hence am not very knowledgeable regarding sports bikes. I wanted to get the opinion of the wonderful people of this sub regarding my decision. Here's the requirements:
Budget: ~35L On Road Price Type: Sports Bike
Power: ~200HP (he has owned and frequently used high HP bikes for quite a while and has plenty of experience)
Initial choices (from research on the internet):
Kawasaki Ninja H2 SX SE: As mentioned, he used to own a ninja. This is my first preference as he already has plenty of experience with the bike and the brand. There is also a Kawasaki dealership and service centre very close to our house for service and repairs if necessary.
Ducati Panigale V4/V4 S: I have read and watched several reviews online that described it as the best handling sports bike in its category. We have a dealership nearby as well.
Aprilla RSV4: This is my least preffered choice as I have read many forums and reviews regarding poor management of Aprilla dealerships and bikes in India. Many customers were apparently left months on end without any response from Aprilla.
Please help me decide which of these (or any other) bikes is the best. I want to suprise my brother for his birthday and hence can't involve him in the decision. Feel free to jot down your experiences with any of these bikes
Thank you :)

“What do you mean it’s wrong?” said Tamara, becoming frustrated with Samuel.
“I'm trying to tell you that plants do not eat earth. They just absorb nutrients from it,” Samuel replied, equally annoyed as this was the fourth time he had explained it. “Look, just take my word for it, OK,” he added.
“Fine, but you will have to explain it again,” Tamara retorted.
Samuel and Tamara were partners in a scientific study of their forest home. It was genuinely idyllic in every sense of the word; the trees stretched high into the sky, and everyone was covered in succulent leaves, a deep and gorgeous shade of green. Around their trunks were rings of flowers gathered from every continent, and a thick carpet of grass lay on the ground.
The two sat underneath a chestnut tree, writing up their findings for the day. It had focused mainly on tree sizes and growth rates, and they had continued this study for, on and off, almost a year.
Samuel turned to look at his assistant and found that she was just as remarkable as the day they had first met: golden locks, like living sunlight, tied neatly in a bun. Her eyes were an emerald green, and all in all, she was gorgeous. However, it was when you came to her waist that things became truly incredible because rather than a pair of legs, there was a long and wide snake’s tail.
It was huge, at least seven metres long and as wide as her torso. The scales were the same beautiful colour as her hair and reflected the sunlight in such a way that she appeared to glow. She was wearing an ultramarine tunic with a black diamond in the centre. She was like this not because of a plague, a curse or some mutation; Tamara was a Lamia; it was how she was born.
Samuel, on the other hand, looked far less impressive. He was around five foot ten, with dull brown hair and equally dull eyes. His stomach stuck out from the rest of him. No amount of exercise was able to get rid of it.
He was by every description a ‘dull as dishwater’ human. His clothes, however, were slightly more interesting. He wore a navy blue tunic with a thick leather belt wrapped around his waist. On his feet was a pair of excellent leather boots, able to withstand whatever the world threw at them and on his forearms and shins, he wore something Tamara had never seen or even heard of before: a pair of vambraces and greaves, Samuel called it armour.
Three strips of rugged leather layered on top of one another made up each piece, and between each layer was a collection of tiny metal beads. When Tamara asked what they were for, Samuel said they were for protection.
All of this would have been inconceivable to Samuel two years ago, but he had become used to it in time. Samuel was not born into this world; he had arrived. How? He did not know, but he remembered it all vividly; his senses had been overloaded, and at first, he believed he had died.
“What’s wrong?” Tamara asked Samuel, who had been silent for over a minute.
Samuel snapped out of his daydream and said: “nothing, just thinking about that day again.”
Tamara nodded and said nothing else; she knew exactly what was wrong.
Samuel went straight back to writing. When Samuel first showed up, there had been no paper or pens, but what was even stranger than the lack of these apparent necessities was that Samuel had had to invent both of these items.
Tamara and those like her did not possess a written language; they relied entirely on their memories, and until Samuel had shown up, Tamara had not even conceived of the notion, but she had picked it up astonishingly quickly.
“It still sounds like eating to me,” said Tamara, bringing the conversation back to the original topic.
“Well, it isn’t; eating requires a mouth and stomach,” Samuel replied.
“Says who?” Tamara asked defiantly.
“Says me,” Samuel answered.
Samuel jotted down the last of his notes and left the pages to dry in the sun. Samuel then turned to his right and looked at a large book, the size of a chair’s seat, bound in yellow leather and knotted by animal tendons. He picked it up and began to leaf through the pages.
His eyes glanced over paragraphs about oak trees and orchid flowers until he finally reached the section he sought; the page was titled Silver Birch (Betula Pendula).
“Have you finished the drawing on Silver Birch yet?” Samuel asked without looking.
Tamara was currently focused on a drawing of sunflowers, but she understood his request and, without looking up or saying a word, handed him the picture he wanted.
Samuel took the drawing and took several moments admiring it. Like all her work, the picture was astounding; not only did it look like an actual Silver Birch, but it also seemed to be alive, as though it would start blowing in the breeze.
Samuel punched four holes along the sheet's left side, undid the tendon strings and then attached the drawing behind the title page. He added eight more pages to his book, four of text and four illustrations.
Their work was now done; there was no more writing or drawing today, and he placed their work into a knapsack Tamara had brought with her. Samuel turned to his partner and asked: “so what do you want to do now?”
Tamara looked up through the canopy and could make out the silhouettes of several birds and finally said: “I’d quite like to fly.”
Samuel smiled, chuckled and said, “Yes, so would I, but that would require every member of the village working together for decades.”
Tamara looked Samuel in the eye and said: “are you making fun of me?”
Samuel did not reply; he just looked Tamara dead in the eye. She observed every minute twitch on Samuel's face and concluded he was not.
“How could a person fly?” She asked, suddenly intrigued.
“I don’t know, I’m not an engineer,” Samuel answered, “So apart from flying, what else do you want to do?”
Tamara let out a sigh and said: “I guess we will just have to walk.”
These were the moments Samuel lived for, just a quiet afternoon with his best friend enjoying a stroll; he was utterly content.
“You seem chipper,” Tamara said, noticing the growing smile on Samuel’s face.
“That’s because I feel chipper” he replied
They passed through the trees, heading towards their favourite spot, a beach by the side of a lake so large you could not see the other side.
“So, how is everyone?” Samuel said, trying to spark a conversation.
“You mean every single one because that could take a while?” Tamara replied.
“Let’s start with your mother” he clarified.
Tamara’s mother, Pancha, was more or less just a larger version of her daughter, just as brash and headstrong.
“She’s fine; she has finally stopped asking me what happened every time I come to meet you,” she said.
“Really, and it only took her two and a half years,” said Samuel with a smirk.
Yes, that first year here, had been a real trial. Samuel had never felt so scared, isolated and persecuted in his life. When he thought about it, he could still feel the fear and the hopelessness.
A gust of air slammed into Samuel’s face, bringing him back to the present, and what a wonderful time it was. The water was crystal clear, the beach was covered in sparkling white sand, and the distinct aroma of water wafted through the air. Samuel breathed it all in as Tamara spread herself over the beach.
The cooling breeze that Samuel found so enjoyable, Tamara found far less agreeable. Tamara was ectothermic or cold-blooded. She could not maintain her body temperature; she needed to absorb it from her environment, and the wind was slowly draining her.
“Comfortable down there?” Samuel asked.
Tamara turned her head, looked up at him and said: “Actually, yes, not as good as my bed, but still fine.”
Samuel left Tamara to her thermoregulation and strolled down to the water’s edge, “stay where I can see you!” Tamara called.
“Yes, MOM,” Samuel answered sarcastically, though he knew it was more for Tamara’s sake than his; she had a problem with open spaces.
Samuel closed his eyes, stretched his arms above his head, feeling his muscles strain against the tension, and yawned. Small tears formed in his eyes and wiped them away. He had only been up for a few hours but was ready for bed.
“Too much thinking, that was the problem,” Samuel mumbled to himself.
The sunlight sparkled on the water’s surface. It seemed as though millions of diamonds were suddenly brought into existence, danced for a few moments, and then vanished as quickly as they came. It was beautiful, just like everything else here.
He climbed up a rock that jutted from that sand and sat down, his legs dangling over the edge. As he kicked his legs, a ray of sun caught his greaves, and although the leather was rather dull, it still dazzled him.
Samuel heard a sound reminiscent of sandpaper brushing against wood, and he knew at once what it was. He waited four more seconds and said, without moving an inch, “Don’t even think about it!”
“How did you know?” Tamara asked, feeling simultaneously impressed, confused and disappointed.
Samuel looked her in the eye and replied: “who do you think you’re dealing with?”
Tamara had not clambered up the rock like Samuel; she had simply raised herself on her tail so she stood over two metres high.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked.
Tamara smiled and answered, “yes, thanks for asking.”
Tamara moved behind Samuel and then began to coil around the boulder, and if he had not experienced it all before, it would have been unnerving. Tamara was only twelve and a half, yet she was already far stronger than him. Samuel was sure if Tamara really wanted to, she could crush a bison to death. After the graceful dance around the stone, she sat down beside Samuel.
The pair was silent for a few minutes, except for a quick coughing fit by Samuel; they took in the unnatural beauty of their surroundings.
“Hey, I have a question,” said Tamara, coming back to her senses.
“What is it?” Samuel replied.
“You still haven’t told me why we are studying the forest?” She asked.
In an instant, Samuel became deeply confused. To him, it seemed all too obvious why they were doing it.
“There is no practical reason for doing it. We do it so that we know,” Samuel answered.
Tamara became silent. Samuel realised that she was deep in thought and decided to give her all the time she needed until she finally said: “Is this one of those human things?”
Samuel, upon hearing this, gave a small chuckle and answered: “yes, if you like.”
Suddenly, something caught Samuel’s eye. It was a crab, no bigger than a golf ball. Its back was powder blue, and it held its arms upright, its claws pointing down. The tiny creature would walk forward, scoop some sand into its mouth, and then leave a small pellet behind.
“Look at that!” said Samuel, nudging Tamara’s shoulder and pointing at the tiny crustacean. Tamara turned her head and looked directly at where he was pointing; she strained her eyes at what she thought was a pebble; she was about to climb down and collect it when it suddenly moved, and she squealed.
Tamara dragged the bottom end of her tail up from the beach and timidly said, “What’s that?”
Samuel remembered that tone of voice all too well, and it brought with it some unpleasant memories, but he pushed them to the back of his mind and said: “it’s a crab.”
Samuel was certain he had seen this type of crab before but could not put a name to the image. Samuel was sure he had read about them, watched a documentary, or attended a lecture, but he could not remember. Ultimately, he decided to drop it for now and see if the answer would come to him.
Tamara kept staring at it as though she believed it would pounce if she took her eyes off it for one second.
“Is it dangerous?” she asked, her voice hushed to ensure the creature did not notice her.
Samuel sighed and answered: “it’s a crab, Tamara, unless you happen to be a nematode then…”
Samuel paused mid-sentence as his brain finally connected the dots and asked, “Wait, you have never seen a crab before?”
This perplexed Samuel for a moment until he remembered that Tamara did not have a television, a car, and she could not fly a plane, so it was not unexpected that she would not know what a crab was.
Tamara shook her head in response to his question, and Samuel added: “you know what a woodlouse is, right?”
Tamara nodded and said, “I like woodlice.”
“Well, a crab is just a type of woodlouse that lives near water,” Samuel concluded.
However, he could tell from her face that she was unconvinced, so he got off the rock, walked over to the tiny creature, wary of its pincers, and picked it up by its backside.
“What are you doing?” Tamara called in alarm.
Samuel held the animal, its legs flailing wildly in an attempt to escape, and said, “showing you there is nothing to be worried about.”
Taking care not to crush it, Samuel clambered back up the rock and presented the animal to her. Tamara stared at it for some as the crab bobbed its eye up and down and tried in vain to find a part of Samuel it could nip.
“It’s actually kind of… cute,” Tamara said after two minutes of silence.
She relaxed her tail and let it rest on the beach once more. “Can it hold it?” She asked Samuel, fear being replaced by interest.
“Of course, you can. Just make sure you hold it by its back and be careful of the pincers; if they get you, it will hurt.”
Samuel handed the crab over to her and watched as Tamara began to inspect the animal from every angle. The crab had a white underbelly and purple joints.
“You think you could draw it from memory?” Samuel asked.
“Hmm?” Tamara replied. Samuel let out a sigh and repeated. After three more attempts, Tamara finally took notice and said, “Yes.”
Five minutes later, Samuel said, “we should probably put him back now.”
Tamara moaned about it, but Samuel said: “he has his own life, Tamara; you can’t keep him!”
She conceded, grumbling under her breath, and gently placed the animal back on the sand. As the crab dashed away, the two noticed that while they had been fixated on that single crab, thousands more had emerged on the beach.
Upon seeing the swarm of animals make their way across the beach, Tamara let out a squeal and once again pulled her tail up off the beach. The army of crabs marched along the shore. The collective walking produced a sound loud enough to hear from fifty metres away, and at last, Samuel remembered what they were and said, with no small amount of satisfaction in his voice, “they’re soldier crabs.”
“What are they going to do?” Tamara asked, concerned by the sudden appearance of so many creatures.
Samuel kept staring at the gathering, but he heard her question and replied, “They’re just feeding,” and added quickly, “But we are far too big for them.”
“That's odd,” Samuel said under his breath.
“I know there are so many of them,” Tamara said, deeply unnerved by the sheer vastness of the swarm.
“No,” Samuel said, “There should be this many of them; it’s where they are that is strange.”
Tamara momentarily took her eyes off the army and asked, “So where should they be.” There was a slight flicker of fear in her voice at the prospect of being invaded; rats and mice where bad enough. They did not need another pest.
“By the sea, not a freshwater lake,” he answered.
“The Sea?” Tamara almost yelled. Samuel was a little surprised by this enthusiasm and turned to face her.
“Yes,” he said.
“Have you ever been to the sea,” she asked.
“Yes, many times,” Samuel said, uncertain where this was going.
“I bet it’s wonderful,” Tamara added with a smile.
Samuel was silent as his brain connected a few dots and asked: “how can you know about the sea if you don’t know about crabs?”
She smiled; Tamara enjoyed it when she knew something that he did not, “there is a story that my mom told me that before we came to this forest, we were a different people that lived by the sea.” Tamara paused for a breath.
“But then humans came and drove us from the water, and we fled inland. Our people split into two. One half went to the mountains, and the other settled in the forest.”
Tamara finished and waited for his reply. Samuel, however, just kept looking at her. Tamara was concerned that she had upset him; he did not like it when humans were labelled as the enemy, yet his face and posture were not those of one who was sad or angry.
“You people blame us for everything, don’t you?” Samuel said with a chuckle.
“If there is a fire, it’s a human’s fault. If there is an earthquake, it’s a human’s fault. If a little Boreray boy drinks all their apple juice in one gulp, it’s a human’s fault.”
“So, getting back on topic, where did these “Soldier crabs” come from anyway? We have visited this lake for over two years and never seen even a glimpse?” Tamara asked. Samuel looked back to the slowly advancing army, and several ideas flashed through his head.
“Maybe they have been dormant up until now; perhaps they make a large circle around the lake shore, and it’s simply luck that we were here on the day they passed by, or maybe the migrated here from somewhere else.”
They watched the crabs' ceaseless march until Tamara said, “These things are still giving me the creeps. Can we go now?” Samuel could not argue that there was something eerie about all of these animals appearing, seemingly, from nowhere; however, there was still one thing he had to be certain of.
“You think you could draw one from memory?” he asked.
Tamara’s face contorted in a scowl. Samuel, for all his good points, could become far too focused on his research, which often caused him to become ignorant of other people.
Yet she knew sitting here yelling at him would accomplish nothing, so she told him the truth: “Yes, can we go now!” Samuel nodded and then slid off the rock. Tamara copied him, and they both slinked back to the cover of the trees.
Now that she was beneath the canopy, Tamara let out an enormous sigh of relief as the anxiety slowly left, and the close air warmed her body. On the other hand, Samuel began to chafe at the stagnant air while his head began to bead with sweat, but it was nothing he had not experienced before, so he gritted his teeth and bared with it.
With their plans now ruined, Tamara and Samuel wandered aimlessly through the woods, chatting about what they could do to fill the rest of the day. Several ideas arose, including visiting a nearby waterfall and a set of monument stones, but none truly appealed to them.
In the end, Tamara said, “how about we just call it a day?”
Samuel was happy about this. Tamara was his only form of human contact, yet he could not deny the pointlessness of wandering around the woods, so he said, “Ok, but let’s take the long way.”
Samuel heard a sound above him and saw a red squirrel scampering through the trees.
“Is it difficult?” Tamara asked.
Samuel looked at Tamara and replied, “Well, it can give me a crick in my neck sometimes.”
Tamara let out a short laugh and clarified, “No, I mean, is it difficult being so inquisitive? It looks exhausting.”
He was not entirely sure what she meant by that. To Samuel, Tamara was every bit as curious as him, so he stated: “you tell me, you went out looking for me just because you wanted to know.”
“True,” answered Tamara, “and everyone has always said that I am always asking questions, but you’re like a boar that just ate sugar beat.”
“I have no idea what that means,” Samuel said, shaking his head. “But I do know that people always told me, when I was a boy, that humans are, by their nature, infinitely curious, but personally, I think that it’s just how I was born.” there was a pause, and he quickly added, “just like you.”
Tamara’s fingers started to numb as she brushed them against the bark of passing trees. She took a good look at the trees around her. Tamara had lived her entire life sheltered by these trees. This place was her home, her family’s home and her friend’s home, and she loved it, a perfect example of the innate beauty of nature.
Samuel, however, was of a different opinion this forest disturbed him, though this feeling had diminished with time. The trees all grew in perfect symmetry, four and a half strides form each other.
From Tamara’s perspective, there was nothing strange about this, yet Samuel often said that this should not be possible, that the wood should be a mess and that the trees should grow in an unorganised fashion. Yet to Tamara, the idea of messy forests was just as impossible as a structured one was to him.
Noon came and went, and Samuel’s stomach began to rumble. His breakfast was becoming a distant memory; he thought he might be able to bear it for another hour or so, but as they travelled closer to the village, Tamara started to become irritated by Samuel’s constant growling.
“We need to find you something to eat before that sound drives me nuts!” Tamara stated bluntly.
“That’s all well and good, my dear, so long as you can materialise food out of the aether,” answered Samuel, with just a hint of condescension in his voice.
Tamara did not know what the aether was, but it did not matter. “No, but I do know a nearby tree with some great fruit in it,” she replied.
Samuel found this strange for two reasons. Firstly, he found it very difficult to believe there was a source of food in this forest that either he had not found, or Tamara had not told him about yet.
Secondly that, Tamara would know much about something she could not eat. Tamara was strictly carnivorous; she ate nothing but meat.
He wanted answers fast and asked: “So why haven’t you told me about this before?”
“Because I can’t stand the smell, that’s why, and I didn’t want you stinking up the place,” she explained.
“If it smells disgusting, what makes you think I will eat it?” he asked.
“Because the Boreray can’t get enough of it, some of them say that they taste like all the best parts of every fruit and vegetable we grow, which is a shame because they smell like all the worst,” she added.
He asked no more questions. He was too busy thinking; this fruit sounded so familiar, but he could not remember. The need to survive day in day out had pushed most of his standard learning, from school and university to the back of his mind, not forgotten mind you just buried.
I'm back with Tamara and Samuel latest adventure. If you like what you've read so far and want to know where it's going you can find the complete story by following the links below.
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If you do decide to read ahead please leave a review or rating, every single one helps immensely, and helps me keep doing what I'm doing.
Also the e-book will be at a reduced price until the last chapter it published on reddit.

Repost to fix rule errors. From ASOS, after Jaime sets Tyrion free. This may have been noted before. Basically, Varys led Tyrion to that exact spot and knows the precise distance to the Hand’s chambers. He also killed Kevan Lannister to clear Westeros of any powerful or competent challengers. His pleading with Tyrion is rich, considering that he “poked” Tyrion in the eye by pointing out that the Hand’s chambers now belong to his father and not him. It’s such a pleasure to see all these things on a second read through!
Something niggled at Tyrion for a moment. Then it came to him. This is the place Shae told me of, when Varys first led her to my bed. "We are below the Tower of the Hand." "Yes." Frozen hinges screamed in protest as Varys pulled open a long closed door. Flakes of rust drifted to the floor. "This will take us out to the river." Tyrion walked slowly to the ladder, ran his hand across the lowest rung. "This will take me up to my bedchamber." "Your lord father's bedchamber now." He looked up the shaft. "How far must I climb?" "My lord, you are too weak for such follies, and there is besides no time. We must go." "I have business above. How far?" "Two hundred and thirty rungs, but whatever you intend-" "Two hundred and thirty rungs, and then?" "The tunnel to the left, but hear me-" "How far along to the bedchamber?" Tyrion lifted a foot to the lowest rung of the ladder. "No more than sixty feet. Keep one hand on the wall as you go. You will feel the doors. The bedchamber is the third." He sighed. "This is folly, my lord. Your brother has given you your life back. Would you cast it away, and mine with it?"

Maddy was the real Laura, sent back in time to watch over the Tulpa-Laura/Judy. That’s why everyone lost their mind around Maddy and why she was killed by Bob.
Bob was inside Dad and Jowday inside Mom when they birthed Laura (Judy, the Tulpa to destroy the world. )
Copper’s first dream was him being shown that yes “Laura’s” true home is Hell. The little guy is a demon. She tells him the name of the murderer but then the memory is erased. Just like Laura’s parents… he forgets!
Bob wanted to take complete possession of Laura-Judy probably for a very unsavory ritual with the whole troubled family. The last bit of humanity in Laura decided death was the better option…
But in The Return Cooper completely blows it. Sarah is left completely gutted. And when Jeffries sends him back to Judy (Laura) Cooper doesn’t let her die…. He pulls her out of time and she is easily taken away to be trapped in her own world…
Cooper had no faith in Heaven. No faith she would be ok in the hands of the angels. That was his mistake. (The angels disappear from Laura’s painting but reappear after her death in FWWM)
The Giant is also a demon. So Cooper is led to Judy in her own dream world and he takes her to the real world
But Judy The Super Tulpa is activated through Laura’s grief and confusion.
The result is the End of the World.

Okay, long story, but my bf of 5 years broke up with me 6 months ago, which hurt me a lot because he repeatedly struggled with mental health which had a huge impact on our relationship but he never got any help even though it repeatedly had a negative impact on the relationship. When he broke up with me, I asked him 2 or 3 times if he would rather see this as a break to work on ourselves while we stay exclusive. He said no, he wants it to be a full breakup. something switched inside of me and I couldn’t grieve, I just felt numb. He wanted to get back together a couple weeks later but I felt so numb at this point that I said I have no idea what I want - I don’t think we should get back together right now. I started going on dates, which in hindsight I just did to avoid the pain of the breakup, but at the time I genuinely just didn’t feel anything. He tried so so so hard to win me back, sending me gifts, saying sweet things, peomising to work on himself. About two months ago he flew from the US to Europe to come see me and talk in person (we had broken up over facetime bc of the distance) and when he was here it was a really confusing situation because I always loved him and the comfort of being with him felt so nice, but I was also so hurt because he hurt me repeatedly in our relationship due to his mental health which made me feel unsafe. While he was here I had already been talking to a guy I met on Instagram for a few weeks. When my ex left, it was a really confusing situation because I felt so much love for him but I was also so scared to try again. I went to meet this guy because I wanted to figure out my feelings since they were all over the place. after I met him, I liked him, and so when my ex was trying to talk about getting back together we had a long talk and I told him no this is it, we shouldn’t get back together. I felt so numb during that call still. He said so many sweet things and he said he knows that this is mostly his fault and that he doesn’t blame me. We ended the call amicably and went no contact. It only took about a week or so for the grief to fully hit me. I started grieving so hard but I didn’t want to reach out to my ex yet because I wasn’t sure if I actually wanted to get back together or if that was just the grief talking, so instead I started therapy. The grief persisted hard and after 6 weeks of no contact I texted him last week, at first just a neutral text bc my therapist suggested it. He had blocked me on imessage which really really surprised me because I didn’t think that we would ever block each other, but I sent him the text on whatsapp. He didn’t reply and it was gnawing at me, so after a few days and also talking ti a mutual friend who confirmed my fear that he had doubted my love because I moved on so quickly, I sent another text, apologizing for how ny actions hurt him in the process. I told him that through therapy I realized that I was coping with the breakup in unhealthy ways and that he was right with that but I didn’t want to face it until I started working through it in therapy. The text went through, which I lowkey was scared he would have blocked me on wwhatsapp in the meantime, too, but it’s been a few days and he still hasn’t answered. I know he probably needs some time to process but it’s also making me freak out, the only reason I didn’t text sooner was to give us both some space to heal and work on ourselves, and now I feel like maybe that was a mistake.
I’m not even sure what I am asking for here - I guess the right thing now is to give him time and space to reach out in his own time? I would assume the double text is showing my feelings enough, but the romantic in me is thinking of grand gestures like flying there, but I don’t even know if he’d want to see me, let alone if it would be a good idea to pressure him like that. Many of my friends are saying I technically didn’t do anything wrong but I still feel like the worst human on earth and my heart breaks at the thought of hurting him, even when all of this was initiated by him in the first place.
Do you think this just needs some time, or could it be that those 6 weeks completely flipped his feelings and he hates me now?
I tend to reply to people within a few hours, even if it’s something very emotional, so it’s hard for me to imagine taking days unless you never plan on speaking to that person again but I know people process things differently or maybe he is punishing me a bit by not replying? I don’t know, all I know is that I’m so heartbroken and would love to hear some insights… Should I wait? Should I try to call? what should I do?

Embarked upon a 24 hour journey from BLR to MUM in Udyan Express, AC first class.
I have taken up the journey twice before and it was an above average experience at the very least, so I was rest assured.
This time I boarded the train, stashed away my luggage and got on the upper berth. An hour later, it occurred to me to close the cabin door so I stretched out my right arm to do that while taking support of my other arm.
Suddenly, the train jerked so hard like it had never before in any of my previous journeys. My whole shoulder got twisted. Terrible pain. I can’t even bring my hand up to my mouth anymore. 🤡
PS - I have no idea what these jerks are. It’s happening once every hour or two hours. It’s so bad that it startlingly wakes you up in the middle of the sleep. Almost feels like an accident, or like a car stalling but 100x worse.
TLDR - Don’t close the cabin door from the upper berth