My (29F) husband (40M) wants to sell our family home. What do I do?
Hi Reddit,
I'm in need of some advice regarding my current marital situation and the potential sale of our home. To give you the full picture, I'll start from the beginning. Apologies for the length, but I feel all the details are necessary to understand the context.
I (29F) met my husband (40M) on Tinder four years ago. We dated for about eight months when my family had an opportunity to purchase a property. My then-boyfriend was also looking to be involved in a business deal of that sort, and he was interested in having his name on the property as well. My father supported this, seeing as how my boyfriend was a physician with a good income, and saw this as a way to bring him closer to our family. The opportunity came quickly, and we all signed the contract to purchase the house.
Trouble began shortly after this. My boyfriend requested that only he and I be on the title of the house, removing the rest of my family, as he saw a future with us and envisioned it as our potential family home. My father was very pleased to hear this and supported it, so we obliged. During this time, the property had increased in value, and I requested the other family members be paid off so we could buy out their shares. My boyfriend declined, feeling it was unfair.
To skim over some details, here are the highlights of the construction: My boyfriend paid more for the down payment than we initially realized would be required. Because of this, he paid no further construction costs. The construction proceeded with debt from my family until the construction loans came through. My family paid for the construction, and my father built the house for us without charging for his management services. My father was displeased with my boyfriend’s behavior and required him to pay more money for the construction due to inflation and the COVID shutdown. My boyfriend declined, and my mother and I secretly took out a line of credit to front the construction costs to my father, pretending it was from my boyfriend. Eventually, as we got the construction loans on a rolling basis after meeting construction milestones, my mother’s line of credit was paid off.
During this time, my family and I wondered why my boyfriend had not proposed. I decided that if he hadn't proposed by a certain time, I would leave him. Fortunately, he did propose on Valentine’s Day 2022. By spring of 2022, construction was coming to an end, and it was time for us to settle into the house. My fiancé felt uncomfortable with how much money he had put into the house and was worried I could leave him and make a profit. I promised him I wouldn’t leave him, but it wasn’t enough. He said he would believe me if I had a child with him, otherwise women would leave men if there were no ties. I told him I would have a child with him right when we got married. He suggested I come off birth control, as it takes months for a woman’s cycle to normalize after being on birth control for many years. I promised him I would come off birth control.
Coming off birth control was more stressful than I realized. I was very hormonal, breaking out, and felt unlike myself. This contributed to my fiancé and I fighting more than usual. In one particularly heated fight, I told him I would go back on birth control and even purchased the pills, but he told me he would break up with me if I did because he wanted to get to know the real me. I conceded, and then something switched in me and I became excited at the possibility of having a baby. I started tracking my cycle and figuring out my ovulation days. I shared this with my fiancé, and on one of those days, we got pregnant. I didn’t find out until the end of summer 2022. When I did find out, I told my fiancé and suggested we should probably get married.
My fiancé's first response was that we should wait to see if the baby sticks, and if it does, then we can plan a marriage but he wanted to wait until February 2023. I was very disappointed and angry and yelled at him. I felt alone and overwhelmed by the thought of having an illegitimate child. After discussing potentially getting an abortion, potentially breaking up, and potentially selling the house, I talked my fiancé into keeping the baby and getting married. He also wanted to keep the baby but was afraid of our situation. After many fights about when to have the wedding, we finally decided on December 2022. At that point, I was four months pregnant. During this time, my fiancé and I had major arguments that therapy couldn’t even remedy. We would yell at each other, slam doors, I would cry, and he would hold himself up in a room for hours. We had nice moments too, but they were heavily clouded over by the bad.
Finally, we got married, and things were good for a while. But then we faced some marital problems. My husband kept separate accounts and managed the finances himself. We had a joint credit card where I could pay for expenses without being questioned. He made all of the major investment decisions and major purchases. If I tried to disagree or speak up, he would get upset because this was not the submissive wife I had promised him I would be. I made significantly less money than him but lived a good lifestyle, buying almost anything I wanted within reason. Coming from a traditional family, I was upset that finances were kept separate. And so it continued that my husband would invest tens of thousands of dollars into our house so that his family from out of town would visit. We live in Vancouver, Canada, but his family is from Ottawa. In hopes of luring his youngest sister (of four) to Vancouver, my husband would make any modification to the house that his youngest sister showed the slightest interest in. This included a hot tub on the rooftop, a media system in the basement, a movie projector, and much more. After said sister got married, she made it clear that she would not move to Vancouver. Then a switch happened in my husband, and he suddenly wanted to sell the house.
Meanwhile, during all this time, I had my baby, and my husband and I were still fighting more than ever. I felt no support from him, and he felt drained by his work, our fights, and being away from his family. Recently, for the past three months, he has been consistently pushing for the sale of our house. This is where my dilemma lies. I am afraid to sell this house because my husband has kept finances separate, and the mortgage on this house has been serving as a way for me to feel secure. My husband contributes a monthly amount on a regular basis. He could have forced a sale in the past but didn’t, instead paying into the monthly mortgage on top of other bills. Now, he is considering forcing the sale of our house, but I am upset that he is citing financing as the issue when I have been begging him to save money instead of spending (his response is that $200,000 does not affect a $2M mortgage, and that he now feels burnt out and wants to retire sooner and live passively). If I agree to sell, I feel unstable about moving from our home given that my husband and I fight so frequently, and I am left alone to take care of the child. It is also worth noting that my parents live right across the street and come over frequently to help with the child, or I would go over to seek their help. My husband says that he feels abandoned and uncomfortable frequently because of our proximity to my parents, but I feel it’s only been helpful because there have been times when I felt truly alone, and my parents were my only solace and support. My husband would ignore me for days, especially when I was postpartum and vulnerable. My parents now see my husband as someone who doesn’t put his wife and child first. My husband says that the massive mortgage we have is too stressful for him, and he can’t take that burden. I am sad that my husband will not consider keeping this house for another three years so that I can get comfortable with the idea of selling the house and that potentially I and my family can all move to Ottawa so that we can allow my husband to be closer to his family. My husband says that he’s tired of the mortgage and feeling forced to work and missing out on spending time with our daughter (his job is very high stress).
I don’t know what to do at this point, Reddit. I’m currently on extended maternity leave, but it ends in six months. My husband and I will have to come to an agreement about the house, otherwise, it is likely that he will force the sale of the house even if I’m not ready to move. I’ve consistently felt rushed and overlooked in this relationship. I am tired of being the small voice that does not impact decision-making. My husband is now being nice to me and trying to show me a good time, but I see it as him turning on his charming mode so that I can say yes to the sale of this house. I’m not sure what to do. Our fights and disagreements are so bad and the marriage feels like doom sometimes (never any physical violence). I sometimes questions even staying with him, but I worry for my daughter. I’m afraid of her being an only child of divorce; I imagine it’ll be lonely and emotionally traumatizing. He is a good father to her, even though he is cold (but civil) with me.
Any advice would be greatly appreciated.
TL;DR:
I need advice. I met my husband four years ago, and we bought a house together with my family's help. Financial disputes caused issues. Despite getting married and having a baby, we fight often. My husband handles our finances separately, spent a lot on the house, but now wants to sell it. I feel insecure about selling because the mortgage is like an investment to me, and also I rely on my parents, who live nearby, for help with our child. My husband feels stressed by the mortgage and feels homesick for his family 3000km away. I feel overlooked in decision-making and am unsure whether to agree to the sale, or to stand my ground and not sell. Sometimes I question staying in the marriage for my daughter’s sake, or is it better give up on this unhappy marriage.

This story was written and emailed to me by an anonymous source. And it’s one of the craziest most bizarre stories I’ve ever read. Ever! 😆 Enjoy the read. It’s long and ridiculously wild. ☘️ Also, in advance, no one can use this story. These stories are written and emailed to me for me to turn into a Video Narrative for my YouTube & TikTok channels. But I would like to share their tales as reading material as well. Thank you for understanding.
I hope you enjoy. 🫶
Story by - “Alex” & “Shane”
Okay so…
I went on vacation to Ireland with my brother last year. And had the most wildest experience of my life there.
Or should I say, we both had the most…wildest experience.
But More so me. And to Tell you the truth, I don’t think I’ll ever go back again after what happened.
As a matter of fact, no, I won’t go back.
So, it’s a Sunday night and it was pretty much our last day of vacationing.
My older brother Shane, wanted to go out… And I’m quoting him - “let’s get fuckin wasted tonight!”
So… We’re on vacation right? Why not? We had rented an Airbnb for the week, we had a rental car - we had a great week so far and we were having…
A proper vacation.
He was already dressed up and ready to go. I wanted to take a quick shower and shave so I told him to head out and I’d call him when I was ready for him to pick me up.
He says cool. He leaves, and I jump in the shower. He’s the one that knows the hot spots in Ireland better than I do. I mean, this was my first time ever coming here. So…
I take a shower, shave, and I get dressed. As I’m about to call my brother, the front door to our Airbnb opens up.
And Its my brother with two bad ass Irish women! They both jump on the couch and they’re laughing their asses off and my brother is just standing there looking at me with a sly grin on his face.
He looks over at the ladies and says - “Give me a minute please” walks over to me, puts his arm over my shoulder and walks me to the bathroom. He then whips out a bag of mushrooms and smiles. Ya know… The psychedelic kind.
I look down at the bag and I shake my head.
He says to me - “come on bro. We got two hotties out there who are trippin and they want to party. Don’t be a flake. This is our last night. Let’s make it special.”
I don’t like disappointing my brother but I was kind of hesitant.
I opened the bathroom door and take a look at these gorgeous women who were both sitting upright now and both looking at me as I opened the door. Both smiling. I smiled back. Closed the door… I looked at my brother and said - “Alright dood fuck it! Let’s do it!”
He gives me a huge hug, kisses me on the forehead, pours me a handful of shrooms and does the same for himself.
We both looked at each other to see who would go first. He counted to three and down the hatch they went. But they were the most unpleasant tasting mushrooms I’ve ever eaten in my life. They were disgusting.
I ran to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of juice because I was having a hard time chewing these nasty things.
But my brother Shane? No, he’s a pro. You give that guy a barrel of hay and he’ll eat it faster than a horse. The guy can eat anything.
40 minutes go by and I’m still straight as a pin. However, my brother on the other hand? He’s already trippin.
I think he had already taken some beforehand.
But in the next 10 minutes… These shrooms hit me like a ton of bricks! It was like this intense wave of cool and hot went completely through my body.
And I’ve taken mushrooms quite a few times but have never felt anything like this before. It was so sudden!
And I feel fantastic!
The next hour went by so fast because we were having so much fun! And these Irish girls? Man… I had the sexiest one! A beautiful Redhead by the name of Katrina.
She was kind of short though. About 5’1” maybe? But good things come in small packages, right? Well, not really. And you’ll know why soon enough.
I don’t recall anything else that happened for the rest of the night after my brother left with the other girl. And before I continue with the rest of the story. My brother’s name is really not Shane. And the redhead girl I was with is not named Katrina.
You see I had to make up these names to protect me and my brother. Because what happened during the rest of the night? I don’t remember. But also, I’ll never forget either.
Okay so, let's get back to the story…
I do remember my brother leaving with… Let's just call her Gloria, Katrina’s friend? And me and Katrina, the redhead, stood behind. I do remember us making out in the bathroom together, but…Everything else after that? There’s nothing there. Nothing. I don’t recall anything from that point forward no matter how badly I try to remember.
This is what my brother told me he witnessed as he arrived back at the Airbnb five hours later with Gloria.
And until this day, I still don’t want to believe this happened. But according to my brother…
It truly did happen.
My brother is going to write this part of the story because he’s the one that has this locked in his memory for life. And for the sake of the story, my name will be Alex.
Here is my brother Shane’s point of view - his perspective on what he witnessed that crazy night. Wow man… This is so fucking nuts. So buckle up and be prepared. I understand you don’t know who I am, but I swear, I’m not a bad person. Okay.

• “Shane’s” story on what he witnessed.

Yeah so, I guess I’m Shane now. Unreal…
Okay. Here we go. Meat and potatoes.
We arrive back at the Airbnb and I see Alex outside in the front of the house wearing only socks and he’s running around on top of the grass like an animal yanking out handfuls of grass from underneath him.
I look at Gloria and we’re both baffled at what we just saw.
First thing I said was - “Oh yeah! This dood is off his rocker right about now - as I parked the car.
We both hop out of the car and walk up to the front door. I slide the key into the door, it unlocks, but there’s a chair behind the door and it’s tipped over blocking the entry way and only leaving enough space for a crack. We both awkwardly look at one another and as I’m about to call out for my brother, I hear someone sprinting towards the door and bang!
The fuckin idiot shuts the door on us.
I then knock on the door softly because It’s almost 1 in the morning as I don’t want to make too much noise. God only knows what this kid has been doing since me and Gloria left.
After I knock on the door a few times, I hear the chair getting pushed to the side and my brother slightly opens the door. I take a peek inside, and his nose is broken, lips are bubbled up and his left eye is completely shut, black and blue and swollen.
He then drops to his knees, and begins crying but no sound is coming out of him! You know… Like when you get smacked by your parents when you’re a kid and it shocks the soul of you? Yeah, that kind of cry.
I don’t react to what he’s doing to not scare the shit out of Gloria, because she’s right beside me. So I push the door open and tell Gloria to hang on a second and shut the door and lock it.
I pick his busted ass up and sit him on the couch. I look around the house and it’s in complete shambles. Our clothes are everywhere, there’s food all over the fuckin walls. It was chaotic. And my brother is now sitting up breathing frantically.
I ask him - “what in the fuck happened?”
He looks at me. Face looking like he got into a boxing match with Rocky Marciano and whispers to me.
“Dood… There’s a leprechaun in the bathroom.”
“A fuckin what now?” - I said with the most bewildered look on my face. I mean I must have… I wish I would have taken a picture of my face at that very moment. I should have taken pictures of everything so this idiot could see the havoc he wreaked on that night.
My imbecile brother continues - “I’m telling you. There’s a fuckin leprechaun in the fuckin bathroom and this little lucky charms motherfucker won’t tell me where he hid the gold!”
“A leprechaun in the bathroom. What the fuck happened to you?” I said as I felt my blood beginning to boil.
The Imbecile then says - “Don’t worry. Don’t worry! I hogtied that little bitch and stuffed my underwear in its mouth. It’s in the bathtub. But don’t go in there. Don’t go in there. This thing fucked me up!”
And now I can hear someone fumbling in the bathroom moaning very softly. I looked at my brother and said - “What in the fuck did you do Alex?”
He replies - “I’m telling you. It’s a fucking leprechaun.”
“Okay. Okay.” - I said. “Stay right here and just, don’t move. Don’t do anything. Just keep still.
His eyes were so huge and dilated. He was so fuckin high. He had heartbeat pulses pumping from the top of his head.
I rushed back over to the front door and told Gloria that my brother got into a fight with a couple of guys at a pub while me and her were out and that her friend Katrina left because she got scared. She told me that was the first time she met that girl tonight so she really didn’t care and shrugged it off. Which was a huge relief to me. I told her thank you for a wonderful night. She understood. W said our goodbyes. I shut the door. And now… What the fuck is in the bathroom? Or better yet, who, is in the bathroom? Because let’s face it. This motherfucker did not find and fight with a leprechaun tonight. No way. There’s just no fuckin way.
I rush over to the bathroom and my brother leaps at my legs, and he’s holding onto me for dear life, begging me!
He says - “Please don’t untie it! It’s got magical powers! PLEASE!!!
Now, at this very moment? I am sort of hesitant about opening the bathroom door. But I snap out of it and open it. What the fuck. A leprechaun? No, I don’t think so.
I open the door…
“Holy shit.” - I said while covering my hands with my mouth. The floor was smeared in blood as if someone was dragged, leading to the huge cast iron tub. Smeared bloody handprints were all over the tub. And now I hear the faint moan coming from the tub. My legs are shaking and feel like they’re ready to give out on me. I was scared shitless.
“What did my brother do? Who is in that bathtub? I pray to God Katrina isn’t in there right now.” - I said to myself completely freaked out.
I slowly walk up to the bathtub…
And sure enough, there is a hogtied person lying in it with my brother's underwear stuffed in their mouth with a ripped t-shirt tied around their head and mouth, but… It’s not Katrina.
It’s a little person. You know, a dwarf? And… He’s literally dressed up in a leprechaun costume…
And how, on God's green earth did he end up here?
He has no idea I’m standing above him. I reach down to begin untying him but he begins squirming and screaming. I told him to relax and that I was here to help him.
And then My imbecile brother Alex, rushes into the bathroom and tackles me down. Stands up and begins shouting at this poor bastard hogtied in the tub - “Tell me where it is you greedy little fuck! Tell me!!!
I jumped to my feet and slapped my brother back to his childhood. Grabbed him by the throat, tripped him and threw him to the ground and said - “are you fuckin crazy? Do you want to go to prison for kidnapping? What in the fuck is the matter with you? You dumb fuck!!”
He then looks up at me with this pessimistic look on his face and says - “It’s a fucking leprechaun dood. A leprechaun.”
I was absolutely dumbfounded and furious at this point. I have this stranger in my Airbnb rental, hogtied and gagged and squirming and screaming and my brother thinks that he’s a leprechaun…
I can’t make this shit up.
He was so fucking high on those mushrooms. He was absolutely convinced that this man was a leprechaun. So… I had to play the game.
It was the only way to help this poor son of a bitch that my brother had kidnapped and hogtied in our Airbnb rental.
I calmly whispered and told him to please leave the bathroom so I could interrogate the leprechaun and find out where he was hiding the pot of gold.
My brother slowly stood up to his feet, face busted up, his cock and balls all shriveled and tight, looked at the man dressed up as a leprechaun, smiled at him with an evil grin and just, walked away…
And as he walked away, I told him to go and please put some clothes on, lay down in bed, and that I would handle the leprechaun. That I, would find out where the gold was hidden…
And that’s all I’m saying. I’m giving the computer back to my dumbass of a brother to finish off whatever else he wants to write.

• Back to “Alex”

Pretty outlandish right? I know. I know. You must think that I’m bat shit crazy huh? Okay so, to make the rest of this long story short, my brother Shane never told me what he did with the poor guy I hogtied and, well… i don’t remember how this guy came to be in my possession. I really don’t.
The only thing my brother Shane told me was that he ungagged him, untied him, and that he was extremely pissed off. And that he had compensated him for his troubles.
Man, I felt so horrible. I felt so horrible…
What I do remember though is waking up that following afternoon with my face all fucked up. Dehydrated with a tremendous splitting headache. I had no clue as to why I looked and felt the way I did. It was terrifying.
All of our luggage was packed and my brother was just sitting there, legs crossed and his arms folded.
Hey man… Take it from me. Don’t do fuckin drugs.
Regards, “Alex” & “Shane”
Disclaimer- This story may not be used for anything other than reading, sharing your thoughts and enjoying it. It is now protected by the United States Library of Congress/Copyright Office. Thank you. ☘️

To preface I’m a 33 years old now. I’m a guy and have really never talked to anyone about this. I’ve brought it up but it hasn’t really been taken seriously. I’ll try to make this story as short as possible. When I was 18 I was desperate to lose my virginity, but was way too shy to actually try. I was always envious of some friends and their stories of who they have been with so I decided to lie and say that I wasn’t a virgin. There were a couple girls I was really into and they invited me to a get together. Only 5 or more people were there so it was the perfect outing in my shy opinion. I knew one of the girls was very pretty, popular, and a cheerleader but I had my eyes set on her friend. She was much more kind, less outgoing and very cute. We were all having fun but the cheerleader was feeding us all shots. I had maybe drank once or twice before this point, but didn’t want to disappoint. After about 5 shots I started making out with the friend of the cheerleader. The cheerleader clearly wasn’t having it, definitely got jealous and put an end to it saying “let’s go back to your place.” She had drove us and I definitely needed a ride home so to my dismay I agreed. I was very drunk at this point and actually slammed my knee against her trailer hitch, but didn’t feel a thing. Again, she is very attractive and I was totally into her. I wanted to have sex, but I wasn’t ready. Especially given the circumstances. I know this all seems pretty convoluted, but this is how it went. We made it back to my mom’s apartment and I had mentioned we go to the hot tub. I was just trying to delay what would be the inevitable. We walk to the pool area where the hot tub is and it was perfect. I thought “okay we’re in the hot tub and we’ll just hangout here until we want to go to asleep.” What happened next was unexpected and I didn’t think was even possible being a guy. I was 18 and just assumed you would want to have sex whenever possible. She asked how many people I’ve been with and I said 3 (lying to seem “cooler”) and she hopped on my lap. Somehow I was hard hard and she grabbed me and put me inside of her. This has been the most confusing part of it all and what makes it so difficult to talk about. I WAS hard. I didn’t want to have sex. Not like that. Whenever that was done she wanted to go back to my apartment. I agreed. The last thing I remember is looking at myself in the mirror of by bathroom and saying “what am I doing” and going back to my room with her spread eagle. As I said I was eager to have sex, but not like this. It has been something that’s been on my mind ever sense and haven’t really talked about.

I went to look at Hot tubs and felt drawn to the Hot Springs Pulse and Flash. I liked that they were mid-range models from the Hot Springs brand. I also liked that they can use saltwater since we already have a saltwater pool and enjoy the feel of it. Curious if anyone has one of these models or another in that limelight series and how you like them? Cheers!

So disclaimer this is everything my roommate did when she lived with me from my perspective. Also this is a really long story because a lot happened, and I do tend to get sidetracked.
Before we became roommates, I had a situationship with this guy. Let’s call him John. John and I met in our first semester of college and hit it off right off the bat. John was a mutual friend of me and my psychotic roommate, which is how we were introduced. Let’s call her Shortstack. So Shortstack knew I had a thing for John, and was encouraging us to start a relationship which I thought was nice. Eventually, though, when there was a lull in our relationship she admitted to liking John, and I backed off because it was looking like a relationship between me and John wasn’t gonna happen. I did my best to subtly wingman and they ended up dating.
Right before they made it official, I had met someone new. We’ll call him Tim (I’m trying to use generic/default guy names to keep some anonymity). Tim and I hit it off right off the bat. He’s honestly the most genuine, talented, thoughtful, and interesting guy I’ve ever met. Anyway, right before John and Shortstack started dating, I got a text from Shortstack saying she had the hots for Tim and asked if I he was free game. I was a bit bothered by that, but she respected my answer when I politely told her that Tim and I had something good and I didn’t want anyone interfering. At least, I THOUGHT she respected my answer.
Almost a year later and I had asked Shortstack if she wanted to be my roommate so we could both live near school while not having to live on campus. Worst decision ever.
She moved in before I did, and when it was my turn to move in the place was an absolute disaster. Dirty clothes and empty Dominos boxes covered the floor. She had also set up her decorations all over the entire apartment (not really leaving any room for me, which was made worse by the fact that we shared a room, and the apartment was very tiny so we were basically living on top of each other). I brushed it off, but it never really got any better. Normally I wouldn’t be too upset, I’m not a huge neat freak or anything, but it peeved me that she would always point out any mess that I had made.
Here’s a list of some of her really gross habits: dirty underwear everywhere kept old dominos boxes everywhere would buy salads and let them expire and they would sit there until I took them out Refused to do any chores or contribute in any way our shower didn’t fully drain so hair was often left in the tub, but she never cleaned up after herself (meaning I was scrubbing her pubes out of the tub) Used tissues would be left on the ground Not flushing I never once saw her do laundry in the 6 months we lived together
I’m sure there’s more but these are just the ones that I remember. To be fair, here were my gross she took issue with: Leaving dishes in the sink for a long-ass time Letting my laundry basket overflow Walking around in a towel after I took a shower, even when her tinder dates were over (mostly cuz I didn’t give a shit and everything was covered, but I also understand that her glares when I would do that were a little deserved).
That was the easiest part of living with her that I had to deal with. It got so so so much worse, and slowly she started to reveal her true colours.
She had a job at a jewelry store, got fired. Moved to a job at a grocery store across the street, got fired. Bummed around for a few weeks, mostly just sitting on the couch doing arts and crafts. Tried a Zumba class, quit after 2 sessions. Finally she got hired at a movie theatre, but she would only work Friday and weekends. All the while a lot of new things were appearing in our apartment. New makeup, a makeup chair, a tiny plastic Dreamhouse, posters and picture frames, lights, you name it. She was also buying premade meals and continued to order Dominos and DoorDash, never making her own food.
That’s around the time I found a buried letter from our landlord saying she was 2 months behind on rent. (Also an honorable mention about her RGB lights, she would keep them on while I was trying to sleep, even when I had work in the morning which was most days and she’d throw a little hissy fit whenever I asked her to turn them off because it was midnight and I had to get up in a couple hours).
She would constantly be having guys over, but would never tell me, so I’d always come home to a stranger on our couch and I’d uncomfortably lock myself in our room. Walls were thin so I had to listen to her awful flirting and occasionally kissing noises. She had made a goal for herself to kiss at least 30 guys so she could write a book about it, one chapter for each guy. It’s funny because the book is coming out soon, I’m not gonna share the name because I don’t wanna promote an incel’s diary but if you happen to be one of the guys she wrote about, just know that she has said several times her type is “Generic kinda ugly white guys.” I don’t think that’s her type, I think she just says that because all of the super attractive guys she went after all shot her down so quick.
While she’s collecting “ugly-ish white guys” (her words), she has promised herself to some dude in the military overseas who has a ring with their initials carved into it (his name is Matt. I’m not censoring that because I genuinely hope he sees this even though chances are insanely slim. She’s Jodie-ing you my guy, and she wants to elope and marry you to piss her parents off and for financial benefits because she can’t keep a job).
ONTOP of all this, Tim (who at this point I had been with for over a year) would come over and visit sometimes. She was always miserable, but perked up and suddenly became so sweet and friendly whenever he was there. Tim kept trying to drop some social cues that he did not want to talk to her, but she ignored it. I also want to mention that Tim is incredibly attractive, physically and personality wise, which is the main reason I think that “ugly” isn’t actually her type, it’s just all she can get.
Oh quick mention one of her tinder guys was 17. She was close to 20 at the time. She said their age gap made her uncomfortable but she invited him over because she wanted to, and I quote, “lick his abs.” Take that as you will.
My breaking point with her was when I woke up one day with a random man in the room sleeping next to her. She let a random man from tinder have full unsupervised access to 2 unconscious girls and all of their valuable items. There’s more stuff she did but this is already super long so I’m going to leave it on this note. Let me know if you guys wanna hear the rest.

So disclaimer this is everything my roommate did when she lived with me from my perspective. Also this is a really long story because a lot happened, and I do tend to get sidetracked.
Before we became roommates, I had a situationship with this guy. Let’s call him John. John and I met in our first semester of college and hit it off right off the bat. John was a mutual friend of me and my psychotic roommate, which is how we were introduced. Let’s call her Shortstack. So Shortstack knew I had a thing for John, and was encouraging us to start a relationship which I thought was nice. Eventually, though, when there was a lull in our relationship she admitted to liking John, and I backed off because it was looking like a relationship between me and John wasn’t gonna happen. I did my best to subtly wingman and they ended up dating.
Right before they made it official, I had met someone new. We’ll call him Tim (I’m trying to use generic/default guy names to keep some anonymity). Tim and I hit it off right off the bat. He’s honestly the most genuine, talented, thoughtful, and interesting guy I’ve ever met. Anyway, right before John and Shortstack started dating, I got a text from Shortstack saying she had the hots for Tim and asked if I he was free game. I was a bit bothered by that, but she respected my answer when I politely told her that Tim and I had something good and I didn’t want anyone interfering. At least, I THOUGHT she respected my answer.
Almost a year later and I had asked Shortstack if she wanted to be my roommate so we could both live near school while not having to live on campus. Worst decision ever.
She moved in before I did, and when it was my turn to move in the place was an absolute disaster. Dirty clothes and empty Dominos boxes covered the floor. She had also set up her decorations all over the entire apartment (not really leaving any room for me, which was made worse by the fact that we shared a room, and the apartment was very tiny so we were basically living on top of each other). I brushed it off, but it never really got any better. Normally I wouldn’t be too upset, I’m not a huge neat freak or anything, but it peeved me that she would always point out any mess that I had made.
Here’s a list of some of her really gross habits: dirty underwear everywhere kept old dominos boxes everywhere would buy salads and let them expire and they would sit there until I took them out Refused to do any chores or contribute in any way our shower didn’t fully drain so hair was often left in the tub, but she never cleaned up after herself (meaning I was scrubbing her pubes out of the tub) Used tissues would be left on the ground Not flushing I never once saw her do laundry in the 6 months we lived together
I’m sure there’s more but these are just the ones that I remember. To be fair, here were my gross she took issue with: Leaving dishes in the sink for a long-ass time Letting my laundry basket overflow Walking around in a towel after I took a shower, even when her tinder dates were over (mostly cuz I didn’t give a shit and everything was covered, but I also understand that her glares when I would do that were a little deserved).
That was the easiest part of living with her that I had to deal with. It got so so so much worse, and slowly she started to reveal her true colours.
She had a job at a jewelry store, got fired. Moved to a job at a grocery store across the street, got fired. Bummed around for a few weeks, mostly just sitting on the couch doing arts and crafts. Tried a Zumba class, quit after 2 sessions. Finally she got hired at a movie theatre, but she would only work Friday and weekends. All the while a lot of new things were appearing in our apartment. New makeup, a makeup chair, a tiny plastic Dreamhouse, posters and picture frames, lights, you name it. She was also buying premade meals and continued to order Dominos and DoorDash, never making her own food.
That’s around the time I found a buried letter from our landlord saying she was 2 months behind on rent. (Also an honorable mention about her RGB lights, she would keep them on while I was trying to sleep, even when I had work in the morning which was most days and she’d throw a little hissy fit whenever I asked her to turn them off because it was midnight and I had to get up in a couple hours).
She would constantly be having guys over, but would never tell me, so I’d always come home to a stranger on our couch and I’d uncomfortably lock myself in our room. Walls were thin so I had to listen to her awful flirting and occasionally kissing noises. She had made a goal for herself to kiss at least 30 guys so she could write a book about it, one chapter for each guy. It’s funny because the book is coming out soon, I’m not gonna share the name because I don’t wanna promote an incel’s diary but if you happen to be one of the guys she wrote about, just know that she has said several times her type is “Generic kinda ugly white guys.” I don’t think that’s her type, I think she just says that because all of the super attractive guys she went after all shot her down so quick.
While she’s collecting “ugly-ish white guys” (her words), she has promised herself to some dude in the military overseas who has a ring with their initials carved into it (his name is Matt. I’m not censoring that because I genuinely hope he sees this even though chances are insanely slim. She’s Jodie-ing you my guy, and she wants to elope and marry you to piss her parents off and for financial benefits because she can’t keep a job).
ONTOP of all this, Tim (who at this point I had been with for over a year) would come over and visit sometimes. She was always miserable, but perked up and suddenly became so sweet and friendly whenever he was there. Tim kept trying to drop some social cues that he did not want to talk to her, but she ignored it. I also want to mention that Tim is incredibly attractive, physically and personality wise, which is the main reason I think that “ugly” isn’t actually her type, it’s just all she can get.
Oh quick mention one of her tinder guys was 17. She was close to 20 at the time. She said their age gap made her uncomfortable but she invited him over because she wanted to, and I quote, “lick his abs.” Take that as you will.
My breaking point with her was when I woke up one day with a random man in the room sleeping next to her. She let a random man from tinder have full unsupervised access to 2 unconscious girls and all of their valuable items. There’s more stuff she did but this is already super long so I’m going to leave it on this note. Let me know if you guys wanna hear the rest.

Hi all, I wasn't sure if I should put this here or in the main FtM sub but I figured this might be a better place to post my woes.
Potential triggers: discussion of trauma, PTSD, health concerns, surgery, relationship issues
TL;DR: My partner has a lot of trauma and likely PTSD around caretaking, health issues of loved ones, and surgery, and is having an extremely hard time coping with the fact that I am moving forward with getting top surgery.
So the issue is in the title but there is more context and nuance to this situation, and I want to say outright that my partner (they/them) is extremely supportive of my transition in general and the issue is around the surgery itself.
My partner and I have been together for almost 7 years, and have been married for 3. We got married before I realized I was trans. Before I came out, they were always adamant about not wanting to be married to a man, which made it really challenging for me to want to come out to them and move forward with transitioning when I finally realized that I'm a trans man. That being said, they were supportive of me when I came out as trans about 2 years ago, and have been a great ally and advocate for me in social situations. They struggled a bit with the changes that came when I first started on T, but now they celebrate me and the changes that T has made to my body. Through/because of my transition, they realized they're pansexual, and find me as attractive as they did before T, but it took some time to get here, and they still sometimes struggle with the fact that they're married to a man.
The fact that I transitioned about a year after we got married has been an issue from the get-go, and I think if things had happened in the reverse order, we would both be more satisfied in our relationship. They feel as though they never got to say goodbye to the person they fell in love with. I know that sounds a bit fucked up but I can see where they're coming from, because the person they first met is not who I am anymore. That person was never real to begin with and was more or less a persona that I created to fit into the role that was expected of me, so when I came out, my true personality has come forward, so yes I understand why they feel such grief, and it doesn't mean that they're not also happy for me at the same time (feelings are complicated). This is something we've had a lot of conversations about, and unfortunately I feel that they have some resentment towards me for not realizing my identity before we made a legally binding decision. They don't outright say it, but I get the sense that they feel like I've betrayed them because I came out and started transitioning after we got married rather than before.
Additionally, throughout our relationship, I have struggled with a variety of different health problems. Most recently, I was diagnosed with Hashimoto's thyroiditis about 4 years ago, which was triggered by a non-transition related surgery. My partner was an excellent caretaker when I was at my sickest, but they have quite a lot of trauma from their childhood around caretaking, which was then perpetuated in our relationship. Before my diagnosis and while still figuring out the right medication dosage for me, I was extremely irritable and had a lot of negativity/depression/anxiety which I unfairly took out on my partner. These psychiatric symptoms are part of my Hashimoto's, and I also have quite severe ADHD which was untreated at the time, so you might be able to imagine the poor treatment my partner received when I was quite ill. I lashed out at them over very small things and was just generally unpleasant to be around. Due to brain fog, I can't even remember most of what I said or how I acted, but I know it really hurt them (emotionally/mentally). We have had many conversations about this too, and I have apologized more times than I can count. Since getting my health issues and ADHD under control, my behavior and irritability have been significantly better, but they still bring up that time in our relationship whenever we have a major conflict. They clearly have not forgiven me for this or moved on, even though they said they have. I feel like I will never be able to make up for the hurt and trauma no matter how good of a partner I am now.
Fast forward to the present. I have been on my local top surgery waitlist since March 2023 and just yesterday I FINALLY got scheduled for a consult which is next month. My partner has known that I want top surgery from the beginning, and I waited a whole year after starting T before I even got on the waitlist, to allow them some time to process it. I got a call that I was getting close to the top of the list back in February, which I told them immediately, and I have been keeping them updated throughout the process. Every time I bring it up, they get extremely upset. Crying, wanting to be alone, spending all their time in another room and not wanting to be around me, etc. It's obviously very triggering for them and I believe they have PTSD around this. A few months ago, I sat them down and we were able to have an open and honest conversation about it for the first and only time, and they confessed that they didn't think they could mentally handle being my caretaker again because of what happened before. I accepted this immediately and started thinking about and researching other options for post-surgery care. Their feelings and experiences are valid and I have no problem figuring this out on my own if it means that we can have a healthy relationship. I have friends and family who are more than happy to help, and my health insurance covers most of the cost for a caretaker. I am fortunate enough to be surrounded by many very supportive people who would absolutely help me out post-surgery. Most of my friends are trans (or are the partner of a trans person) and have had (or have experience taking care of someone who has had) top surgery so I am comfortable asking them for help. There are enough folks in my support system that no one person would be overburdened with taking care of me and in fact the two friends I already told about this issue immediately volunteered (without me even asking) to drive me to/from my appointments and take sick days to help me out post-surgery.
However, when I told my partner that they don't need to take care of me and that I could stay with family, ask friends to help out, or hire someone, they were still upset. They said they feel guilty for not being able to take care of me or be there for me as my partner. They've told me they don't think they can handle being in this relationship if I get top surgery because of the guilt around not being able to take care of me. I feel like I'm being forced to choose between living as my authentic self and keeping my relationship. I already know I'm going to move forward with surgery, but I'm really struggling with the idea that it might mean I'm going to lose my partner, who I thought I would spend my entire life with. I would be willing to delay surgery to allow them more time to process, but it has already been over 2 years since I started medically transitioning, a year on the waitlist, a few months since I was told I'd get a consult soon, and they still aren't mentally prepared for this. I'm concerned that there is not enough time in the world for them to be mentally ready for this and I can't just put my transition on hold when they've already had so much time and made no effort to start to process their trauma around this. I am suffering physically and mentally already - I overheat constantly because I'm binding and wearing multiple shirts to hide my chest and binder, my posture has worsened and I have shoulder and back pain I never had before I started binding, and I am limited in what I can do, especially as the weather is warming up, it makes me extremely sad and dysphoric that I can't just take my shirt off and enjoy the water, or join people in a pool/hot tub. I've tried to explain to my partner that this surgery is a good thing and will allow me to be more mentally present and live a happier and more fulfilling life, which they logically understand but don't seem to emotionally get it due to their trauma. They are in the process of getting a therapist, but haven't seen one yet about this particular issue (they have been to therapy for other reasons a few years ago), and they aren't willing to do couple's counseling, saying that they'd rather put that time/energy into themselves.
It makes me really sad that I can't celebrate this exciting transition milestone with the most important person in the world to me, and that they might not even be in my life anymore afterwards. They don't have an issue with me transitioning, just with the surgery. They said if I woke up tomorrow and my chest was totally flat/masculine, that would be completely ok. I understand being concerned about the health risks of surgery and that my recovery will probably be a little more rough than the average bear because of my thyroid condition, but this goes beyond an understandable/regular level of concern imo. I feel frustrated and disappointed with them for not taking steps towards processing this trauma so they can be there for me, especially since it's something we've had so much time to prepare for. I want to be understanding and patient, but I have been for so long already and haven't seen them put any effort into doing the work. I worry that my patience and understanding is what's been keeping this relationship from falling apart when this subject comes up, and that soon I am going to be out of that energy/space for them unless they start putting the effort into working through these issues.
I am also slightly frustrated because I put in a lot of work over the years to address my emotional issues that caused them a lot of pain, but I don't feel like it's recognized, and every time they're triggered, they treat me as if I haven't done any work whatsoever on myself, like we're right back where we were 4 years ago. I have been through many years of therapy and my hormones are stable (including my thyroid), and I'm on ADHD medication that works very well for me. I take care of myself and get my bloodwork done every 3-6 months as needed, take my medications very consistently, have a good sleep and self-care routine, etc., all changes that have helped me be a better partner and person which I feel have gone completely unnoticed. To be honest, I feel like I take care of them all the time. I go grocery shopping, I make sure dinner is on the table every day, I'm the only one that does the dishes, lately I have been doing most of the cleaning except the floors and litter box. I have even done extra projects around the apartment when they mention something they want to do but don't have time/energy for - like hanging up some art that has been sitting around for a while, and organizing shared spaces. I'm still treated like a villian every time they're triggered, no matter what I say or do. They ask me why I hate them and cry for hours if I get into bed an hour later than they do and it wakes them up (they are a very light sleeper), and tell me I'm being mean when I say I wish they had told me how they feel before things get to the point of crisis. I don't know what to expect from them sometimes because they are unclear in their communication. I ask how they are and they say "as fine as I always am" and don't elaborate even when I ask, which I assume to mean that they're okay, when they're actually not okay and they expected me to just know that, so they think I'm being inconsiderate if I move onto a different topic of conversation. We will go days or weeks without having any issues and then all of a sudden, they tell me "I don't think I can do this anymore" because I didn't do the dishes for a day, or there's a stack of mail that's been on the tv stand for a little too long. They say that it's not out of no where and that if I just paid attention, I would see that, but I do pay attention and I ask how they are and I make space for them to share how they're doing, but they don't share their feelings with me until they get so upset that they can't control it anymore. Lately, the only time they share their feelings is when they're upset.
I don't know what I'm supposed to accept because of their PTSD/trauma and I feel so guilty about how I've perpetuated and caused harm to them in the past, so it feels wrong to suggest that they're being unfair to me. At the same time, I don't think I should be expected to put up with being treated like this and thinking that things are totally okay one day, only to be told the next that they don't know if they want to keep doing this. This morning they told me they don't want to come back home, and that I can keep our cat. I don't want to lose them, but at a certain point I can't make someone work through their trauma, and it makes me extremely sad that this relationship isn't worth saving in their mind and they'd rather just leave me when I get surgery than deal with the hard stuff.
I appreciate you if you read all of that. I don't want anyone to tell me to end this relationship because I am not going to do that without giving them a little more time, especially since they are getting ready to start therapy soon. They really are such a wonderful and amazing person and I feel so so lucky to call them my partner. They have so many amazing qualities and we can relate to each other in ways that I haven't been able to with anyone else. They just have a lot of trauma and I am stuck not knowing how to navigate the situation as I continue my transition, knowing that my getting surgery is extremely triggering for them and might end our relationship. I love them a lot and don't want to lose them, but I'm also realistic and have been in toxic relationships before and will end things if I need to. There is nuance to this situation and I am willing to give them grace and be understanding, but at the same time, I also need to make the choices I need to make for myself. This just really sucks and I think at the moment I'd just like some support. If y'all have ever been in a situation like this and your relationship made it through, I'd love to know how. Thanks.

Every 6 months or so, I take apart the internals, remove the filter, clear out the grinder of gunk and just generally scrub away some built up fats that don't seem to dissolve and go away.
For reference, I've always used the generic powdered detergent. Jet dry as a rinsing agent (I dilute this a bit as I heard that the chemicals used aren't great for gut biome). And the one odd thing that I've experimented with is with disconnecting the heater element (to save electricity)
That latter point I did that for 10 or so years, as the hot water tank temp was set high. The build up was just the average, 'not that much considering no element'. 2 years ago, I hooked it back up, and ran it as OEM, and the machine got the water screaming hot, and melted a bunch of plastics that fell off of the racks, so I did something different and wired in a 220v baseboard thermostat to act as sort of high temp limit cut off switch. It was a bit janky in execution, but after some tweaking, it helped lower the max temp.
This last cleanout the machine was absolutely filthy. Usually the gunkiness is just at the bottom where the remaining stagnant water stayed, but this time it went all the way up to just below the tub/filter level, which isn't visible, but still pretty high considerning the depth of the motor.
I did notice that there was too much water in the base before I cleaned it out, so it is possible that the drain hose isn't aligned properly so that it drains most of the water.
But other than that, everything else is the same.
Yes maybe, not having the water as hot as standard might be causing some of the food gunk to not be properly taken care of by the detergents, but it ran fine without an element for years before that.
The dishwasher is about 8 years old. It's a whirlpool. Nothing fancy, plastic tub, but it's been fairly reliable for everything, including the last load I ran before I opened up the filter to see how nasty it had become.

I, 27 F, and my boyfriend, 32 M, have been living together for a while. I am thinking of breaking up with my boyfriend because of this. On the weekend, I was going to go shopping and get some coffee; eventually, he decided to tag along, which was fine. We even decided to go have breakfast. He stated his car needed some work, and I offered to drive. He asked if my car was clean, and I said I could clean it. He went to try to help me, but I didn’t want that because he is too judgmental, and I need him to respect my boundaries. Then he raised his voice at me and called me junky. I cleaned and texted him, Okay, let’s go, then he came down, opened the door, gasped, took his stuff, and left. I drove off crying and went on with my day. This happened on Sunday; it is now Tuesday, and we have not spoken. I am tired of him picking on me; he is always focused on what I do with my mess, yet he has clutter everywhere. At times, I feel like he doesn’t love me, and he just settles with me. Also, we were in the hot tub on Saturday, and he said I do not believe in marriage. I was unsure if he was joking or serious, but he knows how important that is to me. He is also non-affectionate and my love language is affection. I am 27 and do not want to waste anymore time. I feel uncomfortable in my own house.
Advice please

Hi Reddit,
I'm in need of some advice regarding my current marital situation and the potential sale of our home. To give you the full picture, I'll start from the beginning. Apologies for the length, but I feel all the details are necessary to understand the context.
I (29F) met my husband (40M) on Tinder four years ago. We dated for about eight months when my family had an opportunity to purchase a property. My then-boyfriend was also looking to be involved in a business deal of that sort, and he was interested in having his name on the property as well. My father supported this, seeing as how my boyfriend was a physician with a good income, and saw this as a way to bring him closer to our family. The opportunity came quickly, and we all signed the contract to purchase the house.
Trouble began shortly after this. My boyfriend requested that only he and I be on the title of the house, removing the rest of my family, as he saw a future with us and envisioned it as our potential family home. My father was very pleased to hear this and supported it, so we obliged. During this time, the property had increased in value, and I requested the other family members be paid off so we could buy out their shares. My boyfriend declined, feeling it was unfair.
To skim over some details, here are the highlights of the construction: My boyfriend paid more for the down payment than we initially realized would be required. Because of this, he paid no further construction costs. The construction proceeded with debt from my family until the construction loans came through. My family paid for the construction, and my father built the house for us without charging for his management services. My father was displeased with my boyfriend’s behavior and required him to pay more money for the construction due to inflation and the COVID shutdown. My boyfriend declined, and my mother and I secretly took out a line of credit to front the construction costs to my father, pretending it was from my boyfriend. Eventually, as we got the construction loans on a rolling basis after meeting construction milestones, my mother’s line of credit was paid off.
During this time, my family and I wondered why my boyfriend had not proposed. I decided that if he hadn't proposed by a certain time, I would leave him. Fortunately, he did propose on Valentine’s Day 2022. By spring of 2022, construction was coming to an end, and it was time for us to settle into the house. My fiancé felt uncomfortable with how much money he had put into the house and was worried I could leave him and make a profit. I promised him I wouldn’t leave him, but it wasn’t enough. He said he would believe me if I had a child with him, otherwise women would leave men if there were no ties. I told him I would have a child with him right when we got married. He suggested I come off birth control, as it takes months for a woman’s cycle to normalize after being on birth control for many years. I promised him I would come off birth control.
Coming off birth control was more stressful than I realized. I was very hormonal, breaking out, and felt unlike myself. This contributed to my fiancé and I fighting more than usual. In one particularly heated fight, I told him I would go back on birth control and even purchased the pills, but he told me he would break up with me if I did because he wanted to get to know the real me. I conceded, and then something switched in me and I became excited at the possibility of having a baby. I started tracking my cycle and figuring out my ovulation days. I shared this with my fiancé, and on one of those days, we got pregnant. I didn’t find out until the end of summer 2022. When I did find out, I told my fiancé and suggested we should probably get married.
My fiancé's first response was that we should wait to see if the baby sticks, and if it does, then we can plan a marriage but he wanted to wait until February 2023. I was very disappointed and angry and yelled at him. I felt alone and overwhelmed by the thought of having an illegitimate child. After discussing potentially getting an abortion, potentially breaking up, and potentially selling the house, I talked my fiancé into keeping the baby and getting married. He also wanted to keep the baby but was afraid of our situation. After many fights about when to have the wedding, we finally decided on December 2022. At that point, I was four months pregnant. During this time, my fiancé and I had major arguments that therapy couldn’t even remedy. We would yell at each other, slam doors, I would cry, and he would hold himself up in a room for hours. We had nice moments too, but they were heavily clouded over by the bad.
Finally, we got married, and things were good for a while. But then we faced some marital problems. My husband kept separate accounts and managed the finances himself. We had a joint credit card where I could pay for expenses without being questioned. He made all of the major investment decisions and major purchases. If I tried to disagree or speak up, he would get upset because this was not the submissive wife I had promised him I would be. I made significantly less money than him but lived a good lifestyle, buying almost anything I wanted within reason. Coming from a traditional family, I was upset that finances were kept separate. And so it continued that my husband would invest tens of thousands of dollars into our house so that his family from out of town would visit. We live in Vancouver, Canada, but his family is from Ottawa. In hopes of luring his youngest sister (of four) to Vancouver, my husband would make any modification to the house that his youngest sister showed the slightest interest in. This included a hot tub on the rooftop, a media system in the basement, a movie projector, and much more. After said sister got married, she made it clear that she would not move to Vancouver. Then a switch happened in my husband, and he suddenly wanted to sell the house.
Meanwhile, during all this time, I had my baby, and my husband and I were still fighting more than ever. I felt no support from him, and he felt drained by his work, our fights, and being away from his family. Recently, for the past three months, he has been consistently pushing for the sale of our house. This is where my dilemma lies. I am afraid to sell this house because my husband has kept finances separate, and the mortgage on this house has been serving as a way for me to feel secure. My husband contributes a monthly amount on a regular basis. He could have forced a sale in the past but didn’t, instead paying into the monthly mortgage on top of other bills. Now, he is considering forcing the sale of our house, but I am upset that he is citing financing as the issue when I have been begging him to save money instead of spending (his response is that $200,000 does not affect a $2M mortgage, and that he now feels burnt out and wants to retire sooner and live passively). If I agree to sell, I feel unstable about moving from our home given that my husband and I fight so frequently, and I am left alone to take care of the child. It is also worth noting that my parents live right across the street and come over frequently to help with the child, or I would go over to seek their help. My husband says that he feels abandoned and uncomfortable frequently because of our proximity to my parents, but I am because there have been times when I felt truly alone, and my parents were my only solace and support. My husband would ignore me for days, especially when I was postpartum and vulnerable. My parents now see my husband as someone who doesn’t put his wife and child first. My husband says that the massive mortgage we have is too stressful for him, and he can’t take that burden. I am sad that my husband will not consider keeping this house for another three years so that I can get comfortable with the idea of selling the house and that potentially I and my family can all move to Ottawa so that we can allow my husband to be closer to his family.
I don’t know what to do at this point, Reddit. I’m currently on extended maternity leave, but it ends in six months. My husband and I will have to come to an agreement about the house, otherwise, it is likely that he will force the sale of the house even if I’m not ready to move. I’ve consistently felt rushed and overlooked in this relationship. I am tired of being the small voice that does not impact decision-making. My husband is now being nice to me and trying to show me a good time, but I see it as him turning on his charming mode so that I can say yes to the sale of this house. I’m not sure what to do. Our fights and disagreements are so bad and the marriage feels like doom sometimes (never any physical violence). I sometimes questions even staying with him, but I worry for my daughter. He is a good father to her, when he is present and off his phone.
Any advice would be greatly appreciated.
TL;DR:
I need advice. I met my husband four years ago, and we bought a house together with my family's help. Financial disputes caused issues. Despite getting married and having a baby, we fight often. My husband handles our finances separately, spent a lot on the house, but now wants to sell it. I feel insecure about selling because the mortgage is like an investment to me, and also I rely on my parents, who live nearby, for help with our child. My husband feels stressed by the mortgage and feels homesick for his family 3000km away. I feel overlooked in decision-making and am unsure whether to agree to the sale, or to stand my ground and not sell. Sometimes I question staying in the marriage for my daughter’s sake, or is it better give up on this unhappy marriage.

I’m 10 years + down the road with R and I’m struggling. I’d love to know how other long term Rs are getting on with issues like this one. Sorry if this is TMI or long.
We have lots that is going good for us, years 3-7 of R were amazing and I felt stronger than ever and in fact, after the tricky first 2 years, until this year I never regretted for a second deciding to R.
We did then hit a few bumps in the road with one of our kids over the last few years and I have been struggling with that because my WH cannot seem to communicate with me at all if conversations feel likely to be “difficult” for him. I work too but in a less financially lucrative role than him since we had the last kids (who were twins) so it tends to be me whose life is organised round his and the family’s needs.
In addition, I did not adjust well when after the pandemic quiet life, he returned to drinking while socialising at work and staying away from home in hotels for work more often. He had minimised this quite a lot after the affair as it was so strongly associated with opportunities he took to have sex with his AP. When he started doing it again it was a trigger for me and his response was one of despair - when would I ever get over this, he was a different man and would not do that again, he’s never good enough etc etc. I end up both apologising to him but also deeply resentful that somehow I’m in the wrong again.
He stopped drinking at work functions for a bit, started again and then stopped again but only because he felt forced to by me being upset, he was very clear that he shouldn’t need to do that. This has never made me happy or reassured me, I now feel pushed into this awful role of the controlling wife when I’m really looking for him to care enough about me not to actually want to drink at work when he’s staying away in a hotel.
I would rather he did what he wanted and we separated but he is very strongly against that and gets quite emotional and sad if I suggest we might both be happier. If I leave, it will be my “fault” at this point because he wants to stay together. Our children don’t know what happened because they were very young at the time and I don’t think that it would be helpful for them but that leaves us in a situation where everyone knows it is me that is unhappy now. I am also frightened to leave because my financial position is unprotected and I feel quite alone in the UK.
My family in NZ would help me but my children are teens/ young adults now so wouldn’t be happy to return to my home country with me. And, fool that I am, I love him, he’s my best friend, when things are good they’re great.
At Christmas we hit an all time low and for the first time I shouted at him in front of the kids about how I feel so abandoned when he can’t talk to me when I am struggling. I felt more and more disconnected from him and started the year in a terrible place crying, lonely and saying how suicidal I felt/ trying to tell him I needed his support with our kids. On that day he didn’t talk to me but he did sit with me and then he just never mentioned what I’d said again.
This is how he treats most of my outbursts of feeling - if I seem distressed enough he might stay with me for a bit of time but he won’t talk about it again unless I do. He might go off and do some random act of service so I kind of know he’s heard but it is hard to focus on that when I want him to talk with me.
Fast forward a week or two and my WH asked to bring a work colleague (also a BW) round on a Saturday for us to give her some emotional support because her mum was away for a fortnight and she was struggling looking after her toddlers by herself, he said she was having such a tough time. She had split up with her WH just before Christmas because he had been having an affair. She lives in her home city and is surrounded by friends and family who love and care for her. She came round and was chatting to me, telling me how it was for the best as they had been drifting apart for a while, that she had been set up with someone by a friend and they’d been texting/ had a date planned. She was not actually by herself, she was going over to her sisters to stay the night and to sit in a hot tub after she’d been at our place.
As I was sitting chatting with her and holding her baby, I had an almost outer body experience where I was at the same time looking down on us talking and also floating above comparing her situation with mine when I was there 12 years ago.
I was alone in a new city where I knew no one except my PIL who had made it clear as soon as we arrived that they didn’t want to offer me any practical support, I had four kids aged 5 and under, my support network of friends were all in the city where we had lived previously, I had lost my job in the move so that my husband could be closer to his parents/ pursue a better job in this city and my father was at the end of his life on the other side of the world a 24 hour flight away.
My husband then began an affair with a younger co-worker and had her round to our house to play with our babies and f*** in our bed while I was home in NZ visiting my family / my sick dad for three weeks. When I got back and discovered what had happened the same day I returned, I had absolutely no one to turn to and only my husband to rely on. He didn’t immediately choose me but thought about it for a few days. He’d planned to go travelling with this woman and had been playing happy families with my babies who weren’t even two years old yet - it felt like he’d been practicing to see whether she would make a good stepmother for them.
I thought about returning to my home, but our initial MC treated me like I was the one suggesting doing something awful to my WH and I never felt ok pursuing that then. My PIL and SIL were not unkind, but they had not supported me before so it was hard for me to turn to them in the circumstances. I had no one. It was the most terrible time of my life and I did try to take some pills one afternoon after drinking too much.
In the day we had his colleague round, I kept thinking, would I have stayed with him if I had been around family and friends. I was also so hurt that he could see her struggles and ask me to help her but not ask me if there was anything he could do to help me. Since then I seem to be locked in a trauma kind of response, crying, reliving stupid details I haven’t thought of in 10 years, checking AP’s work situation etc (pain shopping) and I haven’t slept through the night in months.
I have also been upset for a couple of years by the lack of communication between us as I associate him having had the affair in the first place as a response to my being low when I was in a new city/ had lost my job/ looked after our twins and a toddler on my own all day/ my dad being diagnosed with terminal cancer. He struggled to deal with how I was feeling and withdrew from me, found his AP who was more able to meet his needs/ fun to be around.
This is what emerged in MC, that he couldn’t cope with emotions due to FOO issues. This means I really struggle to voice my feelings in a way that gets me the support I need now because he has withdrawn from me over the last two years during issues with our child and I am fearful of being too much for him again. I know I do it badly, I wanted MC to help me learn better ways of communicating too, not just to deal with how he withdraws from me.
I asked my WH to go to therapy with me a couple of times over the last two years to deal with the communication issues but he didn’t want to do MC because he said he felt unprotected in the two sets of MC we had in the early days.
I have also asked him if we could try just checking in with each other once a week but he is always unwilling and there is always a reason but it boils down to he doesn’t want to do it. He has said it feels forced and as if he has to say something other than he’s fine. He has also said it’s too difficult with his work/ our lives to predict when he’s free. Most recently he has said he’s asked his friends but no one else has to do that. I have said it’s what I need, a regular space where we talk about how we are going. Our MC suggested it 10 years or so ago and I have never stopped wanting that or raising it. However, it’s like this thing in his mind that it would be negative or difficult so he just doesn’t do it except once or twice when things get difficult again. Which then reinforces that it is a negative space. There were a few times we did it a year or so ago where it felt companionable to me so I was devastated when he just stopped because work got difficult for him and needed all his attention.
I feel I am at the bottom of his priorities after the kids, work, meeting football team parents, his parents, work colleagues. Am I mad to ask for that space once a week for an hour together?
Also we have one day of full on intensive therapy planned (a compromise to fit his schedule/fears about traditional MC) and I hope to talk this through with him again there but I am starting to wonder if we are wasting our time/ money.
I don’t know if I’m looking for support or a wake up call but I’d love to hear from long term people in R who have faced similar issues.

This is really weird because I barely remember the movie but what I do remember is that there was a man and woman on a beach. I don’t know how they got there but from what I could understand they didn’t know anything. They didn’t wear real clothing and they had to survive off the beach. I remember there was a hot tub like rock structure that they like to hang out in. They also had a baby and didn’t know anything about it. They tried to feed it a fruit from what I remember and then luckily the baby started nursing and they were surprised but accepting. After that I don’t remember much. I think there were scenes in a jungle but I’m not sure. If you know the movie please tell me it’s been bugging me forever.

Hi Reddit,
I'm in need of some advice regarding my current marital situation and the potential sale of our home. To give you the full picture, I'll start from the beginning. Apologies for the length, but I feel all the details are necessary to understand the context.
I (29F) met my husband (40M) on Tinder four years ago. We dated for about eight months when my family had an opportunity to purchase a property. My then-boyfriend was also looking to be involved in a business deal of that sort, and he was interested in having his name on the property as well. My father supported this, seeing as how my boyfriend was a physician with a good income, and saw this as a way to bring him closer to our family. The opportunity came quickly, and we all signed the contract to purchase the house.
Trouble began shortly after this. My boyfriend requested that only he and I be on the title of the house, removing the rest of my family, as he saw a future with us and envisioned it as our potential family home. My father was very pleased to hear this and supported it, so we obliged. During this time, the property had increased in value, and I requested the other family members be paid off so we could buy out their shares. My boyfriend declined, feeling it was unfair.
To skim over some details, here are the highlights of the construction: My boyfriend paid more for the down payment than we initially realized would be required. Because of this, he paid no further construction costs. The construction proceeded with debt from my family until the construction loans came through. My family paid for the construction, and my father built the house for us without charging for his management services. My father was displeased with my boyfriend’s behavior and required him to pay more money for the construction due to inflation and the COVID shutdown. My boyfriend declined, and my mother and I secretly took out a line of credit to front the construction costs to my father, pretending it was from my boyfriend. Eventually, as we got the construction loans on a rolling basis after meeting construction milestones, my mother’s line of credit was paid off.
During this time, my family and I wondered why my boyfriend had not proposed. I decided that if he hadn't proposed by a certain time, I would leave him. Fortunately, he did propose on Valentine’s Day 2022. By spring of 2022, construction was coming to an end, and it was time for us to settle into the house. My fiancé felt uncomfortable with how much money he had put into the house and was worried I could leave him and make a profit. I promised him I wouldn’t leave him, but it wasn’t enough. He said he would believe me if I had a child with him, otherwise women would leave men if there were no ties. I told him I would have a child with him right when we got married. He suggested I come off birth control, as it takes months for a woman’s cycle to normalize after being on birth control for many years. I promised him I would come off birth control.
Coming off birth control was more stressful than I realized. I was very hormonal, breaking out, and felt unlike myself. This contributed to my fiancé and I fighting more than usual. In one particularly heated fight, I told him I would go back on birth control and even purchased the pills, but he told me he would break up with me if I did because he wanted to get to know the real me. I conceded, and then something switched in me and I became excited at the possibility of having a baby. I started tracking my cycle and figuring out my ovulation days. I shared this with my fiancé, and on one of those days, we got pregnant. I didn’t find out until the end of summer 2022. When I did find out, I told my fiancé and suggested we should probably get married.
My fiancé's first response was that we should wait to see if the baby sticks, and if it does, then we can plan a marriage but he wanted to wait until February 2023. I was very disappointed and angry and yelled at him. I felt alone and overwhelmed by the thought of having an illegitimate child. After discussing potentially getting an abortion, potentially breaking up, and potentially selling the house, I talked my fiancé into keeping the baby and getting married. He also wanted to keep the baby but was afraid of our situation. After many fights about when to have the wedding, we finally decided on December 2022. At that point, I was four months pregnant. During this time, my fiancé and I had major arguments that therapy couldn’t even remedy. We would yell at each other, slam doors, I would cry, and he would hold himself up in a room for hours. We had nice moments too, but they were heavily clouded over by the bad.
Finally, we got married, and things were good for a while. But then we faced some marital problems. My husband kept separate accounts and managed the finances himself. We had a joint credit card where I could pay for expenses without being questioned. He made all of the major investment decisions and major purchases. If I tried to disagree or speak up, he would get upset because this was not the submissive wife I had promised him I would be. I made significantly less money than him but lived a good lifestyle, buying almost anything I wanted within reason. Coming from a traditional family, I was upset that finances were kept separate. And so it continued that my husband would invest tens of thousands of dollars into our house so that his family from out of town would visit. We live in Vancouver, Canada, but his family is from Ottawa. In hopes of luring his youngest sister (of four) to Vancouver, my husband would make any modification to the house that his youngest sister showed the slightest interest in. This included a hot tub on the rooftop, a media system in the basement, a movie projector, and much more. After said sister got married, she made it clear that she would not move to Vancouver. Then a switch happened in my husband, and he suddenly wanted to sell the house.
Meanwhile, during all this time, I had my baby, and my husband and I were still fighting more than ever. I felt no support from him, and he felt drained by his work, our fights, and being away from his family. Recently, for the past three months, he has been consistently pushing for the sale of our house. This is where my dilemma lies. I am afraid to sell this house because my husband has kept finances separate, and the mortgage on this house has been serving as a way for me to feel secure. My husband contributes a monthly amount on a regular basis. He could have forced a sale in the past but didn’t, instead paying into the monthly mortgage on top of other bills. Now, he is considering forcing the sale of our house, but I am upset that he is citing financing as the issue when I have been begging him to save money instead of spending (his response is that $200,000 does not affect a $2M mortgage, and that he now feels burnt out and wants to retire sooner and live passively). If I agree to sell, I feel unstable about moving from our home given that my husband and I fight so frequently, and I am left alone to take care of the child. It is also worth noting that my parents live right across the street and come over frequently to help with the child, or I would go over to seek their help. My husband says that he feels abandoned and uncomfortable frequently because of our proximity to my parents, but I am because there have been times when I felt truly alone, and my parents were my only solace and support. My husband would ignore me for days, especially when I was postpartum and vulnerable. My parents now see my husband as someone who doesn’t put his wife and child first. My husband says that the massive mortgage we have is too stressful for him, and he can’t take that burden. I am sad that my husband will not consider keeping this house for another three years so that I can get comfortable with the idea of selling the house and that potentially I and my family can all move to Ottawa so that we can allow my husband to be closer to his family.
I don’t know what to do at this point, Reddit. I’m currently on extended maternity leave, but it ends in six months. My husband and I will have to come to an agreement about the house, otherwise, it is likely that he will force the sale of the house even if I’m not ready to move. I’ve consistently felt rushed and overlooked in this relationship. I am tired of being the small voice that does not impact decision-making. My husband is now being nice to me and trying to show me a good time, but I see it as him turning on his charming mode so that I can say yes to the sale of this house. I’m not sure what to do. Our fights and disagreements are so bad and the marriage feels like doom sometimes (never any physical violence). I sometimes questions even staying with him, but I worry for my daughter. He is a good father to her, when he is present and off his phone.
Any advice would be greatly appreciated.
TL;DR:
I need advice. I met my husband four years ago, and we bought a house together with my family's help. Financial disputes caused issues. Despite getting married and having a baby, we fight often. My husband handles our finances separately, spent a lot on the house, but now wants to sell it. I feel insecure about selling because the mortgage is like an investment to me, and also I rely on my parents, who live nearby, for help with our child. My husband feels stressed by the mortgage and feels homesick for his family 3000km away. I feel overlooked in decision-making and am unsure whether to agree to the sale, or to stand my ground and not sell. Sometimes I question staying in the marriage for my daughter’s sake, or if I should give up on this unhappy marriage.

Does anyone else's face break out terribly after using a sauna? After my work out at the gym I like to use the sauna for a little bit but I find afterwards my face is all blotchy and red. How do I prevent that from happening? Is it even possible? I think I'll try the hot tub instead but gym hot tubs just seem gross, I may have to forgo this altogether

Progress so far

Thought it would be fun to plot a comparison of my escape attempts. Hades 1 was unlike anything I'd played before, so I've got the advantage of experience under my belt coming into 2. I made it to Chronos on the 6th run and then proceeded to really struggle, actually dying most of the time in the first phase. My first escape was 37 minutes and I'm now down to just under 20, though I’ve only gone up to 8 heat at the moment. I'm really looking forward to how that scales as they new options could make things a lot more challenging with lower heats!
https://preview.redd.it/t04noqt29d0d1.png?width=665&format=png&auto=webp&s=37b0fa6b5d5af27fdbf8676397875553a5a82331

Difficulty

After 20+ escapes both above and below, I think 2 is definitely easier than 1. You're a lot more of a glass cannon. While you're winning, you're really winning, but if you don't get a good DPS build going into the 2nd boss then everything turns into a massive time sink, which just increases the likelihood of making a mistake. I think the sprint and how much bigger the rooms feel on average, gives you so much capability to evade and take your time that your main limitation is how quickly you can take enemies out.
With the new card system being as adaptable and upgradable as it is, I think when people start reaching endgame we'll see some ludicrous damage numbers and combinations coming up.

Weapons & Boons

Love the new weapons though I feel the torches could use some love, they're the only thing I can't seem to get going well no matter what I do. I also don't do very well with the axe, but I was never very good with the aspect of Arthur either, so I think that's my problem. It's interesting how some of the play styles are mirrored in both games. The shield power dash into cast from hades 1 is now the argent skull power special into triple attack. It's so similar the muscle memory just took over when I realised what was going on, even to the extent that you pick the casts back up! Even the aspect of Chiron(?) bow with the seeking special is the same with the seeking knives aspect.
Ω moves are great, but to the point where the regular attacks and specials just don’t seem worth it. The most foolproof way of progressing with any weapon seems to be to increase your available Magick total and more importantly restoration rate by any means necessary, then spam Ω casts and whatever is best out of your Ω attack or Ω special. The new cast is SO powerful. Especially the Ω cast. Freezing any enemy, even bosses, and then inevitably piling damage on them (looking at you Zeus / Apollo) is great, especially with the amount of support for increasing damage and crit to enemies inside the cast. Big fan.
On the whole for boons, I agree with what someone said here the other day, that the boons really don’t seem to synergise with each other very well. It seems to be a case of just picking boons that are powerful enough in their own right. I hope that’s just because I’m unfamiliar with them at the moment, but it’s causing another problem that the progression and dependency of boons seems obfuscated. Being able to have more than 3 cast boons is great, but I also don’t feel I’m choosing boons which progress and naturally towards a complete build.

Single Dash

Perversely, I think one of the best changes the made was getting rid of the double dash. It's sort of like how they got rid of Juggernog back in the days of COD zombies and everyone complained, but actually by getting rid of it they've alleviated the burden of having to go for it all the time. I know for myself, double dash was one of the only things I literally never got rid of in 1, it just became a necessary pick. In 1, it seemed the go-to play style was to just hack and slash, dodging whenever an attack came your way, then dodging over to the next enemy (Or more commonly with Eris, just special then attack/dash spamming until it died...).
I will say that while the new visuals make the whole game feel more fluid than 1, the dash does feel a bit sluggish at first, especially considering the small wind up at first. It probably makes you invulnerable just as quickly after pressing dash and I think Mel's dash actually takes you further than Zag's. Zag's dash feels like you're already half way through the dash when you press the button.

The undisputable

Hephaestus dash is the most overpowered boon in the history of either game. It's a hill I'll die on. 10 Magick for a minimum 200dmg AOE attack? With no cooldown? That's better than most calls or hexes.
This is an amazing game. Massive well done to the devs and thank you so much for feeding my addiction! Can't wait to see what Charon looks like when he's in the hot tub.

Hi Reddit,
I'm in need of some advice regarding my current marital situation and the potential sale of our home. To give you the full picture, I'll start from the beginning. Apologies for the length, but I feel all the details are necessary to understand the context.
I (29F) met my husband (40M) on Tinder four years ago. We dated for about eight months when my family had an opportunity to purchase a property. My then-boyfriend was also looking to be involved in a business deal of that sort, and he was interested in having his name on the property as well. My father supported this, seeing as how my boyfriend was a physician with a good income, and saw this as a way to bring him closer to our family. The opportunity came quickly, and we all signed the contract to purchase the house.
Trouble began shortly after this. My boyfriend requested that only he and I be on the title of the house, removing the rest of my family, as he saw a future with us and envisioned it as our potential family home. My father was very pleased to hear this and supported it, so we obliged. During this time, the property had increased in value, and I requested the other family members be paid off so we could buy out their shares. My boyfriend declined, feeling it was unfair.
To skim over some details, here are the highlights of the construction: My boyfriend paid more for the down payment than we initially realized would be required. Because of this, he paid no further construction costs. The construction proceeded with debt from my family until the construction loans came through. My family paid for the construction, and my father built the house for us without charging for his management services. My father was displeased with my boyfriend’s behavior and required him to pay more money for the construction due to inflation and the COVID shutdown. My boyfriend declined, and my mother and I secretly took out a line of credit to front the construction costs to my father, pretending it was from my boyfriend. Eventually, as we got the construction loans on a rolling basis after meeting construction milestones, my mother’s line of credit was paid off.
During this time, my family and I wondered why my boyfriend had not proposed. I decided that if he hadn't proposed by a certain time, I would leave him. Fortunately, he did propose on Valentine’s Day 2022. By spring of 2022, construction was coming to an end, and it was time for us to settle into the house. My fiancé felt uncomfortable with how much money he had put into the house and was worried I could leave him and make a profit. I promised him I wouldn’t leave him, but it wasn’t enough. He said he would believe me if I had a child with him, otherwise women would leave men if there were no ties. I told him I would have a child with him right when we got married. He suggested I come off birth control, as it takes months for a woman’s cycle to normalize after being on birth control for many years. I promised him I would come off birth control.
Coming off birth control was more stressful than I realized. I was very hormonal, breaking out, and felt unlike myself. This contributed to my fiancé and I fighting more than usual. In one particularly heated fight, I told him I would go back on birth control and even purchased the pills, but he told me he would break up with me if I did because he wanted to get to know the real me. I conceded, and then something switched in me and I became excited at the possibility of having a baby. I started tracking my cycle and figuring out my ovulation days. I shared this with my fiancé, and on one of those days, we got pregnant. I didn’t find out until the end of summer 2022. When I did find out, I told my fiancé and suggested we should probably get married.
My fiancé's first response was that we should wait to see if the baby sticks, and if it does, then we can plan a marriage but he wanted to wait until February 2023. I was very disappointed and angry and yelled at him. I felt alone and overwhelmed by the thought of having an illegitimate child. After discussing potentially getting an abortion, potentially breaking up, and potentially selling the house, I talked my fiancé into keeping the baby and getting married. He also wanted to keep the baby but was afraid of our situation. After many fights about when to have the wedding, we finally decided on December 2022. At that point, I was four months pregnant. During this time, my fiancé and I had major arguments that therapy couldn’t even remedy. We would yell at each other, slam doors, I would cry, and he would hold himself up in a room for hours. We had nice moments too, but they were heavily clouded over by the bad.
Finally, we got married, and things were good for a while. But then we faced some marital problems. My husband kept separate accounts and managed the finances himself. We had a joint credit card where I could pay for expenses without being questioned. He made all of the major investment decisions and major purchases. If I tried to disagree or speak up, he would get upset because this was not the submissive wife I had promised him I would be. I made significantly less money than him but lived a good lifestyle, buying almost anything I wanted within reason. Coming from a traditional family, I was upset that finances were kept separate. And so it continued that my husband would invest tens of thousands of dollars into our house so that his family from out of town would visit. We live in Vancouver, Canada, but his family is from Ottawa. In hopes of luring his youngest sister (of four) to Vancouver, my husband would make any modification to the house that his youngest sister showed the slightest interest in. This included a hot tub on the rooftop, a media system in the basement, a movie projector, and much more. After said sister got married, she made it clear that she would not move to Vancouver. Then a switch happened in my husband, and he suddenly wanted to sell the house.
Meanwhile, during all this time, I had my baby, and my husband and I were still fighting more than ever. I felt no support from him, and he felt drained by his work, our fights, and being away from his family. Recently, for the past three months, he has been consistently pushing for the sale of our house. This is where my dilemma lies. I am afraid to sell this house because my husband has kept finances separate, and the mortgage on this house has been serving as a way for me to feel secure. My husband contributes a monthly amount on a regular basis. He could have forced a sale in the past but didn’t, instead paying into the monthly mortgage on top of other bills. Now, he is considering forcing the sale of our house, but I am upset that he is citing financing as the issue when I have been begging him to save money instead of spending (his response is that $200,000 does not affect a $2M mortgage, and that he now feels burnt out and wants to retire sooner and live passively). If I don’t agree to sell, I feel unstable about moving from our home given that my husband and I fight so frequently, and I am left alone to take care of the child. It is also worth noting that my parents live right across the street and come over frequently to help with the child, or I would go over to seek their help. My husband says that he feels abandoned and uncomfortable frequently because of our proximity to my parents, but I am because there have been times when I felt truly alone, and my parents were my only solace and support. My husband would ignore me for days, especially when I was postpartum and vulnerable. My parents now see my husband as someone who doesn’t put his wife and child first. My husband says that the massive mortgage we have is too stressful for him, and he can’t take that burden. I am sad that my husband will not consider keeping this house for another three years so that I can get comfortable with the idea of selling the house and that potentially I and my family can all move to Ottawa so that we can allow my husband to be closer to his family.
I don’t know what to do at this point, Reddit. I’m currently on extended maternity leave, but it ends in six months. My husband and I will have to come to an agreement about the house, otherwise, it is likely that he will force the sale of the house even if I’m not ready to move. I’ve consistently felt rushed and overlooked in this relationship. I am tired of being the small voice that does not impact decision-making. My husband is now being nice to me and trying to show me a good time, but I see it as him turning on his charming mode so that I can say yes to the sale of this house. I’m not sure what to do. Our fights and disagreements are so bad and the marriage feels like doom sometimes (never any physical violence). I sometimes questions even staying with him, but I worry for my daughter. He is a good father to her, when he is present and off his phone.
Any advice would be greatly appreciated.
Thanks for reading.

I need some opinions on taking one of your kids on a trip, while the other stays home.
Backstory: I have two kids, 22m apart, ages 8 and 6. My 6yo was born prematurely and was in the NICU for almost two months, so from the beginning (through no fault of his own), he’s needed more time and attention at times. I’ve worked very hard to make sure I’m never comparing them, once little brother came home I was mindful of things like, “Not now little brother, I’m helping big brother,” and would choose big brother every time I could when LB was a baby. We do a lot together the three of us now, but it’s still sometimes hard because LB is still too little for some things that BB would enjoy (water parks for example). I always try to spend one day in the summer with each of the boys just the two of us to give them my undivided attention. But at home, LB needs more help and support, and that typically falls on me, so sometimes I feel like BB gets the short stick, no matter how mindful I am.
BB had made some comments that he wanted to go to a beach for a vacation (like FL, we live in the Midwest). For my birthday, my mom offered to pay for BB and me to take a 3 night 4 day vacation, just the two of us, and she said when LB gets to age 8, she’ll pay for him and I to do our own trip. I started planning a trip to Orlando. I’m excited and think it will be a great time to just devote my undivided attention to BB doing things he enjoys. I’ve talked to my husband about the trip, and once I said I was leaning towards a trip to Orlando, he told me it was so shitty to go on a big trip like that without LB. That if he were LB he’d be jealous and upset and he made me feel so guilty about it. LB will miss me and BB, but at the same time, I feel like this would be such a special trip for BB and me, since I hardly ever get to devote just my full time and attention to BB. (Example: a few weekends ago we went to a local hotel for a staycation and I was with LB the whole time in the lazy river or hot tub. BB either had to hang/play with us, or was with dad for the 15 total minutes dad was in the pool). Husband says I need to plan something closer, within driving distance, for the weekend.
What are your thoughts as an outsider looking in?

Have a 19 year old house which I’ve owned for 4 years. I’ve upgraded faucets from the builder grade stuff since I’ve owned it and this was a problem before, so I know it’s not an issue with the fixture. Both sinks take almost 5 minutes for the water to get hot. The tub and shower are just feet away and both of those heat up within 1-2 minutes. It’s so annoying. I hate letting the water run for 5 minutes to wash my face at night. It doesn’t matter if the shower or tub I s already running and hot- the sink water is still cold and takes almost as long to heat up. Surely the water for tub and sink is coming into that bathroom in the same line, then getting separated somewhere nearby, right? Is this problem because the tub and shower are moving larger amounts of water through the line faster and emptying out the cold water between them and the water heater more quickly? Is there anything I can do to improve it? Sorry if this is a stupid question. I’m not a plumber but I’ve renovated a couple of bathrooms and kitchens and understand the basics of how the water comes into the house to the heater and then to where ever it’s going, and can’t picture what causes this delay in hot water between fixtures that are in the same room.

Two years ago I got a new Jacuzzi 500 series hot tub. Have longer winters here and usually use it all winter.
The last time I used it was in December, it was fine. Long story short, opened it up today with the intent to drain it and it was empty and the screen was dead.
I can’t test the power myself, but the outside and inside breaker are both on, and after resetting them both tub won’t power up.
Interestingly, the test button on the outside breaker does not do anything. I don’t know if it ever did, I never tried it, it was professionally installed.
I am assuming at some point the tub either failed in the winter, or maybe something happened with the power, and it froze and has a leak.
It was certainly not cheap, and not sure what to do. The tub is still under warranty, the shell is not cracked based on what I can see, I don’t see any current signs of leakage but who knows when it happened after December.
If the tub had an issue I would expect Jacuzzi to fix or replace it, if the power was the issue, the maybe my insurance? Granted, the breakers are certainly “on” when I looked and are not tripping even if the GFI is not tripping.
Idk, just looking for some thoughts on how to handle.

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

Hello. We have a deep well. Currently we have an aerator, a water softener, and a 50 gallon hot water heater.
Our water has been smelling like sewage recently. It is also leaving some orange stains in places but when we fill the tub, the water looks like it is tinted grey. We have had two people come out to take a look.
The first person said we have iron bacteria causing the smell and the solution is a chemical injection system plus a reverse osmosis system (for drinking and cooking water). The cost was $9K-ish. This person seemed knowledgeable but also very much like a salesman and less of an actual serviceman. He was pushing financing plans, rent to own, etc.
The second person said we have hard water and iron in the water. He also inspected the aerator and found a broken pipe in the aerator and significant algae in the aerator. To say it was disgusting to look at is an understatement. He cleaned the aerator and said that what we need is a an iron breaker air induction system plus the reverse osmosis under the kitchen sink for drinking water. Total cost $3K. This person also seemed knowledgeable, and he did more digging around to see what was going on, but he didn’t test for bacteria. He seemed more like a true service guy and not someone trying to sell us.
Our neighbor said that the first company’s “iron bacteria” test is just a sales tactic.
We are inclined to go with the iron breaker air induction system plus a really good reverse osmosis system under the kitchen sink. But we have young kids at home and I can’t stop thinking about how we could have bacteria in our water. But also I don’t love the idea of injecting bleach into our water.
Safe to say, we feel lost.
Any recommendations or information you can share to help us decide whether to go with the chemical injection system or the iron breaker air induction system?
Thank you!