Swollen lump in mouth

There is great benefit, these days, in having a name unlike any other: you float to the top of Google searches. Bolerium Books, in San Francisco, knows this well, although it wasn’t a consideration when it first opened, in 1981. Bolerium’s co-owner, John Durham, runs through any number of explanations for the name, depending on whose leg he wants to pull and how hard. “It was an ancient road in Roman times,” he intoned recently, “large, funny, and sluggish,” while another co-owner, Alexander Akin, roundly mouthed, “Not true.” (The word is a Roman one for Land’s End, in Cornwall, England. The bookstore was once a bit closer to the ocean.) Fittingly, there is no other place like Bolerium, not on the Internet nor in the province of the real. Similes come steadily, none of which really seem to fit. Perhaps Durham’s is best. “We’re like a platypus,” he told me recently, “ugly as fuck and all sorts of parts.”.
This moment of serious American protest against Trump has led to one of Bolerium Books’ best sales years ever.Photograph by Thor Swift / NYT / Redux.
At last count, the store contained 67,385 single titles in stock. Estimates of the time that has elapsed since the last deep cleaning ranged from a jokey “twenty years ago” to a hemming “define ‘clean.’ ” “Nature abhors a vacuum,” Durham quickly noted. A store map gestures at the sheer amount of stuff, with sections labelled as “Reef of Flotsam” or “Onset of Confusion” (right by the entrance), or, in one cramped corner, “Hell.”
The semi-barbed humor protects something serious and deeply essential. Few people walk in (“the door is locked to keep out the unworthy,” Durham wrote in response to a negative Yelp review, though he made sure to mention the password, “swordfish”). Those who do manage to enter find, three floors above one of the Mission District’s busiest intersections, a vast and quiet space populated by seven staff members, thousands of books about and from social movements, densely packed rows of pamphlets and ephemera, and, in the adjacent storage room, great snowbanks of paper. These snowbanks, or “midden heaps,” as Durham calls them, are from attics, basements, personal archives, and libraries across the country. They have all been sold or donated to Bolerium. In them, evidence of the past is to be found, possibly reckoned with, and then, hopefully, sold.
From Bolerium’s snowbanks have come copies of On Our Backs (a lesbian erotic magazine put out in response to the anti-pornography publication Off Our Backs), century-old postcards of pacifist Doukhobors protesting in the nude, intricate Black Panther posters and handbills, an issue of Lumberjack (“with appendix on musical saw”), and the famous inter-commune Kaliflower newsletters from early-nineteen-seventies San Francisco. But with a staff so expert that they can translate a Mongolian treatise on traditional Oirat law using a handmade cheat sheet, classifications like “famous” and “obscure” begin to blur. So do “past” and “present.” Rather than a platypus, maybe the store is more like an estuary: the disparate holdings mingle, rolling in and out according to murky tides. (If you visit the Web site and browse the digital catalog by date, the tides begin to feel more explicable; one week, for example, carries a huge wave of Alan Watts-related material. The next week brings a crush of gay romance novels.) At Bolerium, for better and worse, you can wade around in what Durham calls “the primary source material for history.”
Here is an 1838 publication by the American Anti-Slavery Society and a brochure arguing for the Equal Rights Amendment. A pamphlet from a 1928 speech by Marcus Garvey sits not far from a publication on “incidents in the Life of Eugene V. Debs” written by his brother, Theodore (once, before an important speech, a piece of barbed wire tore “a great rent in [Debs’s] trousers . . . the flap of which hung down like the ear of a Missouri houn’ pup”). Among many other small, sheeny pins is a button from the 1990 AIDS Walk in San Francisco. Here are fliers that passed from hand to hand at protests, meant to convince, assuage, and inflame, and here’s a lump of coal from a miners’ strike in Alabama with tiny chicken-scratch wording: “never forget.” Notably, this year of serious American protest has been the store’s best sales year ever.
Not marked on the map is that other part of American history that has, this year and every other, raged—a section that Durham loosely calls “the White Problem” and keeps behind the locked door of a different room altogether. Accessible to scholars and those who know to ask, the spindly bookcases contain titles like “Gun Control Means People Control” and “Fluoridation & Truth Decay,” as well as several publications by the John Birch Society. “You can’t understand American history without understanding the far right,” Durham told me. “What it’s done, its justifications, its tropes and idiocies.”
It was to the deepest corner of the storeroom that the archivist Lisbet Tellefsen was drawn one afternoon. (Tellefsen visits Bolerium as a “treasure hunter,” and has amassed the largest collection of Angela Davis-related material in the world.) One time, she idly tugged out an issue of The Bayviewer, a magazine that once served the historic black neighborhood that James Baldwin characterized as “the San Francisco America pretends does not exist.”
.
The magazine fell open to a page bearing the face of Tellefsen’s father, whom she had not seen since she was two, in an advertisement for his Oldsmobile dealership. That led to an ongoing saga of tracking down half-siblings and cousins found on Ancestry.com. “There is so much history there,” Tellefsen told me. She visits Bolerium once a month, wary of buying back her own consigned material. “It’s so rich with connections. We have an understanding of history, but places like that hold so much.” Bolerium’s official motto, “Fighting Commodity Fetishism with Commodity Fetishism since 1981,” does not quite distill the feeling of holding some of these discoveries between your fingers, or explain the way that ephemera can work to vivify history, very often through its ordinariness. A bit of light browsing recently unearthed a flier from a class reunion of Florida’s first accredited African-American high school, as well as an Electrolux manual from 1933 listing Pope Pius XI as a famous customer.
But history is ongoing, and the present moment needs its collectors. During the Occupy Movement, the store paid a dollar for each flyer or poster that people brought in, then put together a sweeping collection for the British Library. Holdings from contemporary social movements are fairly small, since so much planning, discussing, and arguing takes place on Facebook and Twitter. “Occupy was the last one to have lots of leaflets,” Akin told me, somewhat sadly. Currently, he is collecting material from what he calls the “shock-and-disbelief period” following the 2016 Presidential election. Only from “marinating in the sauce of time” do these things begin to accrue both value and interest.
.
Recently, in one snowbank, Akin found a sketch done in creamy pastel of a basalt mountain and drifting clouds. Tiny guard towers dotted the background. It was a drawing of the view from Tule Lake Segregation Center, the largest of the incarceration camps that held Japanese-Americans during the Second World War, and the one which held those people deemed by the government to be “disloyal.” The artist was a man named Tomokazu, surname unknown, who resided for over thirty-five years in Plumas County, California, before being imprisoned at Tule Lake. The piece of paper sat among countless others all bearing dispatches of one kind or another from the past, which is not a foreign country, really, but a place hovering just under our present, and made of paper and ink, buttons, and voices.
https://xenagoguevicene.wordpress.com/2020/08/12/bolerium-books-the-san-francisco-bookstore-where-the-revolution-ends-up-by-lucy-schiller-the-new-yorker-20-sept-2018/

Malcolm's heart pounds through the design of a moth circling a lit candle on his black t-shirt. The morning sun creeps over the horizon. Saturating his pallor skin with blood orange rays. Malcolm’s short auburn hair flits in the wind.The crimson clouds overhead appear as if the sky is bleeding. Malcolm peers ahead. The straight path before him. a cruel joke. It's a relentless reminder of the unyielding grip his past has on him. Each step a battle against the anxiety dragging him back into the darknessHeavy-eyed, he gazes upon the looming hotel. Parking in the parking lot, illuminated by a lonely streetlight. The air, thick with the scents of morning dew and urine. An assault on the senses. Ahead, cowers a young lady. Her face, bearing too much rouge. Her delicate jawline, framed by red hair, though it's now past its prime. Her attire speaks of success, but the swollen left eye betrays her. Short red skirt. Black fishnet stockings over long. Thin legs, her feet fight to fit into petite black high heels. a faded sky blue tank-top. Christened with a spattering of fresh blood—amongst other fluids.Her current trick is an arrogant punk with tall, drooping shoulders. He wears an ire-filled smile and an unkempt goatee. His cue ball head reflects the streetlight. Revealing his ugly dark-blue Dickies covered in grease. As well as With his open, garish work shirt, exposing a red wife-beater. Sean managed to embody everything Malcolm found repulsive. A name tag hangs off the punk’s shirt like a crooked portrait: Sean.Scumbags like Sean are a tempting meal. Malcolm’s mouth waters. He tries to look away. Bang! Malcolm snaps his head up. His eyes find the streetwalker as she rolls off the hood of a shitty muscle car—no doubt Sean’s. A smart man would mind his own business. When a man has an opportunity for pleasure. it's hard to resist. Malcolm is an anomaly and anything but “smart”.The air crackles with tension as Sean's words slice through. “The fuck you want?”Give me a reason. The thought chants in Malcolm’s head. A surge of anger courses through Malcolm. his muscles tense with the urge to retaliate, but beneath the surface, fear gnaws at him. .Sean steps up to Malcolm. Within seconds, they stand eye-to-eye. “Mind your own business, man,” Sean says."Is this really worth it?" the girl asks, her voice tinged burdened with pain.Give me a reason. The thought continues to chant in Malcolm’s head. With each word. the atmosphere grows heavier, suffocating Malcolm with a sense of dread. He struggles to keep his composure, his thoughts an eye in the storm.“I will fuck you up.” Sean says.Give me a reason.The girl buckles as she tries to get back up.. Sean kicks her. “Stay down, bitch!” The sight of Sean's violence against the girl sends a jolt of hunger through Malcolm. His blood boils as he watches her struggle.“Fuck off.” Sean lobs a fist at Malcolm; to Sean’s pupils are pins, Malcolm allows it to connect.His lip split, Malcolm tastes the familiar rush of life filling his mouth. pain explodes through his senses, followed by a rush. It's a familiar sensation, one that ignites a fire. Action beats from Malcolm’s heart to his limbs. Joy washes over him. Sean’s eyes widen, his true cowardice reveals itself now that trouble flashes in front of his eye.Malcolm gives him a cheerful grimace and spits out “Thank you.”

“Beasts all over the shop…You’ll be one of them, sooner or later…”
The strange Hunter turned around and exhaled. His breath was visible against the night’s air.
He’s bloodlusted. Aegis, I hope you have a plan.
Shimmer saw Elpis step back slightly, with a shocked expression on her face. She shakily raised a claw and pointed at something on the ground.
No. It… it can’t be.
That’s… horrible.
A shattered red jeweled necklace lay strewn across the ground, beside the mangled corpse of the Silkwing.
The Hivewing in front of the three swung his axe to the side. As it was a trick weapon, he was able to change its form on command. The axe had two forms: a shortened form that acted sort of like a sword, and an extended form specialized in crowd control and reach.
He extended his axe and Shimmer heard a low snarl from his throat.
“Do we kill him?” Elpis asked, a hint of fear in her voice.
“We don't have a choice. Steel yourself.” Aegis muttered and brandished his silksabers. The blades gleamed in the soft light of the three moons.
The hunter was taller than all of them, one head taller than Aegis and two taller than Shimmer and Elpis. Black tattered robes clung to him, marking him a Shadowhunter. Blood from tonight’s hunt stained the black fabric, showcasing his expertise and experience in the hunt. He wore a rounded dark-gray hat, and bloodied bandages covered his eyes. Shimmer wondered if he could even see.
Corpses of both beasts and dragons were scattered about the square-shaped courtyard, an equal amount of gravestones breaking up the open space. His teeth were uneven as if he had been eating and chewing rough bones. Blood dripped from his mouth down his neck, and his Hivewing stingers flexed in anticipation.
“Be careful,” Aegis started, “He’s going to use magic. Elpis, don’t use any of yours.” He told the hybrid dragon beside him, and she nodded.
The hunter walked slowly around them, searching for a weakness in their structure, and then spat out a lump of coagulated blood.
“That stench of squalid blood. No beast will be spared.” He half-muttered and half-growled. He tipped his hat respectfully, before lunging at Elpis. She dove to the side, and tried to retaliate with her scythe, but just slightly missed.
This hunter was agile, surprisingly so considering how old he looked. Shimmer gripped the handle of her silkhammer, knowing it wasn’t the time to strike. She stepped backward, seeking cover behind a grave, while Aegis leaped forward with the intent to pierce the frenzied hunter’s heart. Once again, the hunter rolled to the side and sent his axe hurtling towards the smaller Silkwing. Shimmer felt fear grip her heart, but Aegis avoided the blade. He fell back and motioned for Elpis to stay back.
“A sporting hunt. But alas, I’ve forgotten to ask your name.” Aegis growled, and the hunter laughed a sick, disturbing laugh.
“The name’s Gascoigne.” He shot back, and jumped into the air, slamming his axe down where Aegis was a split second ago. Shimmer’s ears rung from the sound of the impact. Her antennae subconsciously curled in defensively.
“Gascoigne. That’s a nice name. I’ll tell Ludwig you were a proud hunter till the end.” Aegis replied and sent his twin blades slicing into the hunter’s thigh. He recoiled, and a gleeful laugh escaped his bloodied mouth.
“Hehe… the sweet stench of blood. Just… just marvelous!” He exclaimed and raised his off-talon towards Aegis.
“Aegis! Get down!” Shimmer called, and a burst of flame erupted from the hunter’s claws across the courtyard. The limited magic the Hivewing had that he was willing to use in this hunt.
Aegis fell back, hissing in pain as a few stray flames singed his tail. The hunter chuckled under his breath, and Elpis took advantage of the opening he had presented her. She thrust the blade of her scythe toward him, opting for its sword form as of now, and the hunter knocked the blow aside. He countered with a kick to the Ice-Hivewing’s ribs, and she was sent to the ground. She coughed up a spurt of blue Icewing blood, and the hunter lifted his axe for a finishing blow.
Shimmer roared out and swung her hammer toward the hunter. The silk connected it to her wrists as it flew through the air, and it hit the hunter square in his side just as his axe was falling. He was sent into the opposite side of the courtyard, coughing and sputtering, but with a faint smirk on his face. Shimmer was in disbelief; how was he not dead?
“Ooh, what’s that smell… the sweet blood, ooh, it sings to me! It's enough to make a dragon sick.” Gascoigne laughed hollowly. He raised his talon, and Shimmer quickly rolled to the side as a ball of flame soared past her horns.
He’s going to turn at this rate.
Shimmer hid under a gravestone as a tree behind her erupted in flames, and Aegis jumped into the air. He beat his four wings ferociously before diving into the hunter. He caught both of Aegis’ horns, and he twisted his head. Aegis fell to the ground, and Gascoigne slashed his axe down across the Silkwing’s leg. Aegis cried out, and Shimmer’s heart ached. She pushed herself up, ignoring the raging fire around her, and she threw her hammer up in the air and aimed it towards the hunter. He narrowly evaded the heavy impact of the stone before Shimmer heard a metal clang behind her.
Elpis, scythe in one talon, approached Gascoigne. She had the little music box in her other.
Elpis played the music box and a song of eerie notes filled the courtyard.
The hunter stumbled back, clawing at his face, and Elpis shot Shimmer a look, her face telling her to make sure Aegis was okay.
Elpis advanced on the struggling hunter, and Shimmer leaped over to her Silkwing partner, who was injured on the ground. She felt tears welling in her eyes, but she knew this wasn’t the time to cry.
“Aegis. Look at me. Look at me.” She repeated, and he lifted his head weakly. His leg had a massive gash in it, but he could probably still walk, just with a limp.
“Ah, Shimmer. I’m alright. I’ll be back in the fight. Go, help Elpis. I’ll join back soon enough.” He groaned, and the pair heard a roar behind them.
Elpis was locked in a duel with Gascoigne, and the hunter’s stray fireballs met with blasts of frostbreath. For the first time in the battle, the hunter had a slight look of fear on his face. Elpis was relentless, her burial blade swiftly countering and stopping any attempt Gascoigne made at advancing. Aegis crawled back and attempted to stand, using a grave for support.
“Shimmer! I can’t hold him for long!” Elpis called, and Shimmer nodded. She took the hammer in her claws and swung it around her side, and in a clockwise circle in the air. It was the perfect counterweight to her body weight. She hoisted it up further into the air and then brought it crashing down onto the hunter.
It struck Gascoigne directly on the spine, and he fell to the ground.
He screamed in pain.
And then, a bright light flashed from his body.
His screams deepened in tone, morphing to be more animalistic. His posture fell forward, and his muscles rippled through his body. He grew in size, and more of his bloodied garb ripped from the size change.
Fur sprouted from seemingly random places on the Hivewing’s body, and his claws extended. His face shifted, his features becoming more and more distorted. His black hat fell to the ground.
The bandages around his eyes stayed, as well as the black-tattered garb that marked him as once a Hunter.
He was no longer a Hunter. Moons above, he wasn’t even a dragon anymore.
He was now a beast.
Shimmer’s heart pounded in her chest. She stared at the transformation for a split second, before reeling in her hammer. She took it in her right talon and dove behind a gravestone, wary of the spreading flames.
Elpis, on the other claw, held her blade in front of her. Shimmer heard a rasping cough escape the Ice-HiveWing’s throat, but she didn’t break her stance.
The beast that was once Gascoigne whipped around toward Elpis, and launched himself at her, with a ferocity Shimmer had never seen even in beasts.
Elpis sidestepped quickly. The beast slammed into the wall with a loud roar, and Shimmer spied Aegis in her peripheral vision struggling to stand. He winced as he stood on his injured leg, but didn’t cry out. He brandished his two blades as the beast charged at him.
“Aegis!” Shimmer cried.
He’s going to get hit. That beast will kill him.
Aegis ignored her, and as soon as the beast was within a wingspan from him he twisted his body in such a way that he narrowly avoided the savage charge. He elegantly sliced his twin blades across the beast’s hide, and the creature howled before rapidly turning to face him.
Shimmer flew into the air. “Get away from him!” She yelled before bringing the weight of her hammer down on the beast. It flattened part of his ribcage, but it seemed impervious to the pain. It did knock him to the ground, though, giving Aegis a moment to cut through what was once two of the hunter’s wings.
The beast quickly got back on its claws before sending a flurry of swipes towards Shimmer. She dodged to the side and readied her hammer for another strike.
That was before the beast kicked her square in her chest, its sharp, ravenous claws digging in and tearing her scales. Shimmer fell back, a slight gasp escaping her mouth, and she stumbled back into the wall. She lost her footing and fell to the ground, and gazed up at the beast locked on her.
“Aegis! Help!” She yelled, and not even a second later her Silkwing partner crashed into the beast. They fell to the ground, grappling with each other before Shimmer heard a familiar song fill the courtyard.
Elpis was cranking the music box, its ominous lullaby breaking up the noise of the fight. The beast stopped attacking Aegis and instead clawed at its face. It growled and screamed in pain, drawing blood from its very own fur and scales.
“Now! Kill it!” She yelled through the song, and Aegis nodded before driving his two blades through the beast’s skull.
They stuck, and the beast roared before throwing him off. It crawled and thrashed about on the ground, clearly not dead, and the two new blades stuck to his head pointed out like new horns.
Now’s my chance.
Shimmer stumbled to her claws and wound her hammer up into the air. With every last bit of her strength, she brought it down on the flailing beast.
It crushed what was left of the hunter.
Silence filled the courtyard, only broken by a few stray notes from the music box, the pained breathing of the three hunters in the area, and the howls and screams from other places in the Hive.
Shimmer breathed a sigh of relief, before collapsing.
I did it. We did it.
Gascoigne was free.
…
“I brought you water.”
Shimmer opened her eyes and found herself in her familiar hospital room.
The morning sun’s rays lit the room, and Shimmer felt very little pain from her chest.
It had been three days since that night.
Shimmer fixed her gaze on the purple-orange Silkwing sitting beside her and smiled.
“Thanks. I’m feeling much better, we should get going to Bloodworm soon. It’s today, remember?” Shimmer asked, and he nodded. Of course, he remembered.
The summons for every hunter to come to Bloodworm Hive. Ludwig, The Holy Blade had requested them all. He no doubt planned an attack. A shame really, the hive was only newly rebuilt. And now it was going to be the site of a horrid, savage warzone.
“I remember. Are you sure you’re feeling okay? Ludwig would understand if you couldn’t come,” Aegis asked, and she spied a hint of worry on his face.
“I’m fine. I need to make sure you don’t do anything stupid. I’ll come.” She sighed and took a sip from the canteen that Aegis had brought. It tasted wonderful, he had put something in to flavor it.
“Honeydew?” She guessed, and Aegis smiled.
“Yep. It’s your favorite, right?” He asked, and she nodded. She opened her arms, and he hugged her tight.
“I love you,” Shimmer whispered in his ear.
“I love you too. I pray to Clearsight that we’ll both be safe today. I can’t bear to lose you.” Aegis replied. He pulled away and gazed out the window.
Shimmer quickly drank the rest of the honeydew-flavored water before getting out of bed. She joined him at the window and was slightly surprised by what she saw.
Almost all of the hunters of Jewel Hive were preparing, some of them already flying in the direction of Bloodworm. They were all sharpening their trick weapons, mixing poisons, or saying goodbye to loved ones.
“We should get going. It’ll be midmorning when we get there, I don’t want to be late.” Shimmer suggested, and Aegis put a wing around her.
“Now? I need to get my stuff, and you do too. Join me at the workshop.” He asked, and she slid her head in the curve of his neck as he led her out of her sick room.
…
Shimmer beat her wings strong and fast against the morning savanna winds.
She saw what looked to be several hundred, maybe even a thousand dragons gathered around a hill. All of them had a colored garb fluttering proudly from their neck. Around ninety percent of the garbs were white, and the rest were black.
They were all different tribes and a fair amount of hybrids were scattered about as well. The gathered hunters were mostly Pantalan, but a good few were from Pyrrhia as well.
Shimmer and Aegis landed a short distance away from the hill, and all around them the sounds of dragons conversing and laughing with each other.
The sun was high in the sky, but it wasn’t quite noon yet.
“You see anyone you recognize?” Aegis asked, and Shimmer shook her head.
“There’s too many dragons here. It’s too much.” She whimpered, and Aegis pulled her close. He knew she didn’t do well in crowds. That was partly why she became a Shadowhunter. To work alone or with no more than a few other dragons.
“You’re safe with me.” He comforted her, and she leaned against him.
She had always hated being with a lot of other dragons. Aegis said it sounded like she had anxiety, which made sense. It didn’t do much to alleviate that fear, though.
None of them are thinking about you. They’re all busy with their own stuff.
Just take deep breaths.
“Do you want to move away? There’s fewer dragons over there,” He asked and pointed a claw across from them.
“…No, no I’m fine.” She whispered, and Aegis sighed.
“Alright. If you want to move, don’t be afraid to ask. I don’t mind it.”
Shimmer shook her head quickly, before the pair heard a loud voice from the top of the hill. They both looked up and saw the legendary hunter himself: Ludwig.
The menacing Nightwing stood proudly, his holy silver sword slung across his shoulder. His partner Memoria stood beside him, her tail twined around his. She had a bored look on her face as she stared at the crowd. The voices of the dragons fell silent, and Shimmer felt like she could breathe again.
The Nightwing’s loud voice echoed through the plain. “Dear Hunters.” He paused, his heroic voice inspiring pride and triumph in Shimmer, even though he had barely started.
“I’m sure all of you know why we’re here. Behind me, Bloodworm Hive stands proud against the horizon. Yet I am more than certain you all know what lies inside.” He paused and pointed his sword toward the dark shape of the Hive.
“Beasts. A few thousand. I think it’s time we put them out of their misery. That is why we are here. A battle of the ages, one that will go down in history. We, the brave heroes, fighting against evil. We will be reveled, we will be honored. We will protect the dragons we hold dear to our hearts, and save those we can yet save.” His speech roused the crowd, and Shimmer felt herself stand a little taller.
“The plan is simple. The Hunters of the Sun will lead the charge from the front. I have already talked to the leaders of the charge. The Shadowhunters will pick the stray beasts off from behind. We will attack at dusk when half the sun is hidden from the eye.” He gestured with his sword at the rising sun, and he extended his wings. His massive wingspan seemed to fill the sky, and Shimmer's heart swelled with pride.
He held his sword up to the heavens, and it transformed. It grew larger, into the shape of a claymore, and it turned a shade of sacred jade. It glowed with an otherworldly light, and the crowd was enamored by the display.
“Now, hunters. Spend the rest of today preparing. The hunt is on tonight. Ludwig, The Holy Blade will be with all of you in spirit.” He bellowed, and the crowd erupted in applause and cheers.
Shimmer saw a proud, triumphant look in Aegis’ eyes, and she felt the same. Ludwig’s blade captivated her. The blade of legend, inspiring all who lay eyes on it.
Ludwig would be with them tonight. The best, the greatest, the strongest hunter ever.
Tonight, the hunters would not know defeat.
Nor would they ever, with Ludwig alive and at their side.
May the good blood guide your way,
Ultima_8

Hey, this is my first time ever having one of these. It showed up Monday which was also the start of my period. It was pretty small then, but by Tuesday it got bigger, probably the size of a large grape. No pain but very uncomfortable to walk too much or sit in certain positions. I have been doing 3 hot baths with Epsom salts both yesterday and today. This morning (Wednesday) it popped. It was bloody and had a smell. No pain or fever and the cyst isn’t hot. It’s not draining very fast, is that normal? It’s like a little bit here and there and it’s still the same size lump. I can walk normally now though and I am not as swollen. Do these usually take a while to drain? I wish all the best for you all that have to deal with these all the time.

My 3.5 year old seems to pick at things a lot, especially right before bed when she’s not actively distracted by playing or something. In the past, it was a couple of really minor cuts/scratches on her cheek that wouldn’t heal because she kept picking at them. They eventually healed (it took months) but she has some scars. Recently, she got a spot from hand-foot-mouth (which is luckily gone) that she’s been picking at. And she was saying yesterday that her nose hurt, and when she woke up this morning it was swollen under the nostrils with a big pustule. We took her to the doctor, and she said both her nose and the leftover HFM spot are infected (and she has an ear infection too, ugh). She will be taking an antibiotic for 10 days and the doctor is not worried about them clearing up, but I’m worried about this habit of picking at things on her face because then it doesn’t heal, and this time it even led to a nasty infection.
Has anyone dealt with this before? Did anything help? We’ve tried putting an antibiotic ointment (like neosporin) on it and that didn’t stop her. We tried putting a fun bandaid on it, and she just takes it off. We’ve tried staying with her until she falls asleep (which we do sometimes anyway) to tell her not to touch her face, and she stops for one second and then immediately starts again. We’ve tried explaining again and again how it won’t heal, but that doesn’t seem to do anything. We’re at a loss!

47F 5’7” 197lbs non smoker, diagnosed with diabetes, trigeminal neuralgia, PCOS and chronic migraines. Prescribed Victoza, Metformin, Percocet, carbamazepine, Botox for migraines. I’ll post a pic in comments.
5 days ago woke up with a large squishy lump between my chin and throat. No pain at the time and not hot to the touch. Over 24hrs it grew to the size of a cherry, became very painful, red and hot. It is also now very hard, it doesn’t move and it’s very deep. I can sometimes feel it towards the back of my throat when I swallow. I’ve been using hot compresses every few hours with no relief.
Today is the worst. The pain is almost unbearable and there appears to be a stone-like black ball near the center. My skin is now very dry and flaky and it’s very hot to the touch.
Slight fever yesterday and this morning but seems to be ok right now. No pain in ears, mouth or nose. I do feel a migraine coming but that may not be related.
I think it’s likely infected but not sure if it warrants a trip to urgent care or ER. I can get in to see my GP on Monday (today is Wednesday) but I’m not sure if I should hold off that long if it is in fact infected. Any ideas on what this is, what I can do to relieve it and if I should seek care before Monday? I appreciate any guidance.

This is the first time I have written something of this length, and is more of an exercise in self-therapy than anything else. Disclaimer: This story contains conversations about child abuse. Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy it.
Nathan’s number appeared on my phone screen. I debated whether or not to answer it. We hadn’t been on speaking terms for a while, and while we did keep in touch sporadically, it was usually because of important family issues. I didn’t know of anything happening with mom or dad, nor with Talia or Rio, so I let it go to voicemail. I could always call him back later. I placed the phone back in my pocket, and returned to cleaning my camera. The phone buzzed again. A text message came through. I read the preview line from the home screen. “The city declared eminent domain on the house” I unlocked my phone, read the full text message, and dialed my brother.
I wasn't able to get any closer to the house than a few blocks. Most of the area was blocked off with chain link fencing and construction equipment in preparation for the demolition that was supposed to take place within the coming days. The barriers didn’t prevent people from walking in to the neighborhood, but it hindered scrappers from coming in and stripping the houses of copper wiring and plumbing.
I grabbed my camera bag out of the trunk of my car along with my tripod. I shouldered it and hooked the tripod to my bag. I pulled my water bottle out of the center console and shut the door. I stood next to my car surveying the neighborhood. 12 city blocks of old single family homes comprised the neighborhood where I grew up. Some of the houses had been empty for months, others for years. There was an eerie silence that permeated the still air. I could not hear the familiar sounds of people, pets, or cars. I locked the car and put my keys in my pocket. I patted my jacket down to ensure I had what I needed. After a quick check, I started my walk.
The sidewalk of the old neighborhood streets still bore the familiar cracks and grind marks from years of buckling and remedy. Leaves dropped by the trees still lay scattered all along the pathways and sidewalk. Korina’s house was the first house I encountered as I made my way through a gap in the fence. The yard was overgrown with tall grass and thistle. I could see the faded blue paint of the old house contrasting the green and browns of the lawn. The chain link fence that marked off the corner property was nearly invisible through the thick brush. As I continued walking west towards 110th, I started to feel something was off. The streets seemed wider than I remembered. It took me longer than I’d like to admit, but eventually I realized what was different. There were no cars.
The streets here typically had cars lined bumper to bumper in any spot available, and were visible from block to block. The absence of all these vehicles made me realize just how deserted the neighborhood really was. House after house, yard after yard, the telltale signs of desertion reinforced what I could see from the moment I passed the construction fence: This was no longer my neighborhood. There were no signs of life, and no one I could expect to find still here. Abandonment was the new normal here. I continued on, glancing at houses and recalling memories of summer bike rides, and daily walks with dogs I used to have. I remembered walks home from school, and chasing after ice cream trucks when they passed our houses. I smiled a bit as I remembered more and more of my years spent here. I don’t quite know just why I was smiling. There were plenty of bad memories here too. Fights, yelling, being beat up, being robbed. I could remember failed friendships, lost loves, and bitter feelings of failures too.
Still, I felt a certain amount of nostalgia despite the weight of these negative feelings. I almost wanted to experience everything again, although I wasn't sure why I was feeling this way. Concrete, asphalt, billboards and liquor stores were the normal vistas of everyday life. Occasionally, after a good rainstorm, the grey haze of smog would lift, and the mountains would be visible to the north. At least, they would be visible until mid-morning when the exhaust from a million cars covered them behind a veil of pollution.
It wasn’t until the first time I travelled out of the city that I realized there was more to see. Traveling up the coast north along the Pacific Coast Highway introduced me to scenes of deep blue ocean water spanning the width of my vision. Driving up Highway 3 introduced me to the permeating scent of Pine and Fir trees. The two-lane stretch of highway from Portland to Tillamook introduced me to lush green forests that I had only ever read about. When I came home to the same old dirty, dusty concrete and boiling summer asphalt, I had made up my mind. I would do everything it took to leave this place. I would not spend another day longer than was necessary living in cramped quarters and fighting for parking space.
I arrived to the house, and paused at the gate. The house sat in contrast of what the rest of the neighborhood looked like. Instead of overgrown grass and tall weeds all over the place, the landscaping showed signs of relatively recent work. The guava tree in the front lawn still had some fruit ready to be picked, and the avocado tree on the other side of the pathway was still weighed down by its own fruit. Flowers still bloomed in the raised bed in front of the house. My brother had clearly tried to keep up on things until the last possible moment. The house, too, looked better than what I expected after walking up 4 blocks and seeing nothing but dilapidated houses and unkempt yards. I opened the gate and walked up to the small porch. The metal gate that enclosed it was gone having been removed by my brother when he took over the property. It looked nice to see it open instead of the cage it once felt like.
I turned the knob on the door, but it didn't give. Ever a creature of habit, my brother had locked the door when he left. Of course, he did. I sighed and prepared to find another way in when I remembered my parents hiding a spare key. I wasn’t sure if it would still be there, but after running my hands along the back side of the gutter downspout, I was rewarded for my efforts. I unlocked the front door and stepped into the front living room, the sounds of my footsteps and the closing door echoing in the empty space. The room felt both larger and smaller than I remembered it. I suppose it was lack of furniture that made it feel larger, but it still felt smaller than I remember. The result of growing taller throughout the years I suppose. I slowly walked along the slate tile floor towards the central hallway that connected the front of the house to the back bedrooms. I wasn't entirely sure that just because the front door was locked, that there wasn't some squatter looking for a little temporary shelter within the back rooms. I carefully and silently crept step by step towards what used to be the bedroom shared by my sister and me. I stuck my head in and gave the room a cursory glance. It was empty, thankfully. I moved back into the hallway and peered into the bedroom across the hall. This is where both of my brothers had shared a room. It too, was empty save for a few boxes holding hardware and doorknobs from the closet doors of the bedroom. I walked back towards the back of the house where my parent's bedroom was. The walls in the hallway bore the dusty signs where picture once hung. The bedroom door was open. I stepped inside, and looked around. The old avocado paint that my mom had picked out years ago still adorned the walls. Walking further towards the addition that was the small room my grandma and grandpa lived in showed that there was no one here. I breathed a sigh of relief as I set my bag down and set up my tripod. I reached into my bag a pulled out an envelope of old photos. These were old snapshots that we had all taken at some point in time in the house. There were pictures of all of us sitting at the dining room table playing a game of Monopoly. There was a picture of my brother and sister sitting on a couch in the front living room. There was a picture of me hanging on the bars of the front porch. I looked through them all and held them in place in front of me as if I were holding a window to the past.
Each picture made the lump in my throat grow as I started to struggle to control my emotions. There was history here, and soon it would all be gone. This is the place where my parents had raised four kids. They had taken care of my grandparents in their twilight years here. My Aunt and my grandmother had both died in this house. Birthdays, graduation parties, and anniversaries had been celebrated here. The echoes of life had reverberated within the walls of this place. Now, the house sat silent. It would never again know happy screams of kids having a water-balloon war out in the front yard, nor would it hear the cries of anguish as the matriarch of the family passed away surrounded by her family. What once was a home full of life was now just an empty house made of drywall and paint. I sat there for a moment contemplating just how much family history was actually made here. As I thought hard about my siblings and my parents, I felt pained at the thought of our strained relationships. We had all scattered once we had the opportunity to be free of each other. My oldest brother had married and moved away as soon as possible. My sister now lived in northern California. My parents too had moved away. I was now living in Utah. Only my older brother had remained behind. The lump grew larger in my throat as tears welled up in my eyes. I held back sobs of anger and pain. Why was I hurting? Hadn’t I dealt with these issues already? I walked back to my old bedroom and sat down under the window. I pulled my head down into my knees and cried. I could hear yelling and screaming in my head. Shouting matches between siblings and parents, brothers and sister, rattled inside my brain, making the pain grow. I sat there and cried. I hadn’t cried like this in a long time. Eventually I ran out of tears and tired gasps of sorrow and regret washed over me as a blanket of drowsiness enveloped me. I leaned my head back and fell asleep.
I woke up to the sound of footsteps. It took me a moment to realize what I was hearing and hurriedly stood up. Had someone followed me? I knew the police were patrolling the area sporadically. Had they seen me enter the house? I knew there would be a possibility of getting a trespassing citation, but I figured I could either talk my way out of it seeing as to how I was a former resident, or I could probably fight the citation in court if the judge knew why I was there in the first place. Ultimately, passing through the gate had been a calculated risk that I was willing to take for the sake of my art. I got up from my corner of the room and moved towards the door. If there was someone in the house, I needed to know. I didn’t want my gear to stolen, and if there was a cop in the house, I wanted to ensure I didn’t get shot.
I was greeted by the sight of a startled chubby boy standing on the other side of the door. His round cherubic face was crowned by a head of short curly hair. His hazel green eyes stared widely back at me. He clearly didn’t expect someone to be here in the house. His body recoiled in fear as he cowered back towards the hallway. “Wait, what are you doing here?” I asked as non-threateningly as I could. The boy muttered something that I couldn’t quite make out. “What did you say? I couldn’t hear you” I replied. “Are you here to rob us?” he timidly responded. “Rob you? What are you talking about?” I asked as confusion set in. “What are you doing here?” It was his turn to be confused. “Uh…I….live here?” he replied. “What do you mean you live here? No one lives-“I stopped midsentence. I hadn’t noticed in my initial shock but the room wasn’t the same. A familiar blue couch caught the corner of my eye. In front of that was an old console TV with a partially broken antenna hanging on the wall behind it. I walked further in to the living room to notice wood paneling on the walls. A large mirror hung on the wall to my left. Familiar yellow lamps sat on round drop-leaf tables on either side of the couch. A large hutch sat in one corner, a collection of letters and bills, mail advertisements, and a phone book covered scattered over it. “What just happened?” I asked out loud to no one in particular. I was thoroughly mystified by what my eyes were seeing. I had walked into the house from the front door and had stepped into an empty white room with slate floor tiles, but somehow now found myself in a furnished room with brown carpet that was all so familiar to me, yet was nothing but a distant faded memory. I turned to look at the boy still startled by the intrusion of a strange man looking wildly around the room in total shock.
“You can take what you want, just please let me go. I don’t want problems.” He stated his voice still shrill with anxiety. I blinked a few times as I tried to process just what the heck was going on. I gathered my thoughts as best I could and tried to reassure him. “Kid, I’m not here to rob anyone. I was just-“I shook my head “Where the hell am I? Am I having a dream?” I asked myself. “I must be dreaming. I’m just tired and still sleeping. This is all a dream. Yeah, that’s it.” I needed to sit down. Being back in the old house must have overtaxed my senses, I told myself. I’d having a dream about an old memory. I walked over to the chair next to the couch and sat down. I sunk into it and rested my head back towards the wall.
The boy kept his distance, but sensed I wasn’t there to hurt him. He looked me over with anxious curiosity. He stood at the far end of the couch, examining me while he played out scenarios in his head in preparation for a quick exit. “Why are you in my house?” he asked me. “Dude, this is all just a dream I’m having. I’m not really here.” He reached over to the couch and picked up a pillow. He reared his arm and threw it at me. It landed in my lap. “I don’t know, man. You sure seem to be here.” He said to me. I opened my eyes, startled. I looked down at the pillow he tossed and examined it. I ran my hand over the fabric and felt its texture. I remember this pillow. This was the pillow I would roll under my head as I lay on the couch and watched TV as a kid. A sudden realization hit me as I looked around the room with fresh eyes. No longer was I blinded by the fog of confusion. I knew exactly where I was.
I was home.
I looked at the boy still standing at the edge of the couch. I looked him over and realized who he actually was. I stared in disbelief as I smiled and tried to put him at ease. “It’s ok Johnny. I’m not here to hurt you. No one is going to hurt you. Please, sit down” I told him. I motioned to his end of the couch. “Who are you, and why are you here?” he asked me.
“This will be hard to believe, but I’m you” I said with an incredulous tone, “I’m not sure how I ended up here, but I’m here.” He looked at me as I had grown a second head. “That doesn’t make any sense. How could you be me? Did we invent time travel? Oh! Are we secret government agents with the CIA?”
I chuckled. “Wait, wait, wait. Let’s start at the beginning. I’m you at 38 years old. You’re…what, 11… 12 years old? It makes sense. I fell asleep under the window in my- our old bedroom. I didn’t come here on purpose or in a machine. And no, I’m not a government agent.” His face contorted to display understanding, disappointment and finally suspicion. His eyes narrowed as he leaned in towards me. “How do I know you’re really me?” he asked. I thought about it for a moment. How could I prove to him that I was who I said I was? A few seconds of silence settled between us. I stroked my chin, thinking of a solution.
“I have a better idea. Ask me questions that only you know the answers to.” “Okay” he responded. He glanced around the room trying to come up with something. His eyes fixated on the Nintendo sitting under the TV cabinet. “What game do me and Nathan have a map of?” I looked over at the NES. I hadn’t thought about this for years, but I knew instantly what he was asking. “YOU don’t have anything. Nathan is the one that made the map for Section Z” His jaw dropped. He tried to trick me, but his plan failed. He knew well and good that Nathan never let him play. It was always ‘I’ll let you play when I die’ or, ‘you can play when I’m done’. The problem was that he never followed through. Usually by the time Nathan was done, the NES was overheated, and the game would no longer load until it cooled down. By that point, it was time for bed.
“How do you know that?” he asked in astonishment. “I know these things because I’m you. Just like I know that you wear t-shirts to the pool because you’re embarrassed by what others will think of your body. I know that you used to think that people that die off in movies were prisoners that were set to be executed from death row, so they used them for making movies. I know all about you because I’m you”
Johnny sat on the end of the couch in bewilderment, his mouth slightly agape. He had never told anyone any of this. He didn’t have any close friends to talk to about such things, and those friends he did have were more acquaintances than friends. There was only one way he could possibly know these things. He was talking to his future self.
I could see Johnny’s mind completely explode. There lay endless possibility and the answers to a million questions he could ask about his own future. He started to ask a question, only to stop, close his mouth, and try asking another. I knew if he kept this up he would have a stroke or something. “Dude, calm yourself. Let’s talk this out rationally, otherwise you’ll end up stroking out or something.” I told him. He took a deep breath and I could hear him muttering quietly. I knew he was trying to form a coherent sentence before he actually spoke it. I did it all the time. “Ok, first of all, are we rich?” he asked with tempered expectation. I chuckled and grinned back at him. “No, not at all. If I was rich, would I be dressed like this?” I replied as I motioned to my beat up brown Vans and worn out jeans and T-shirt. “We-, I – make enough to get by. I’m not poor, but I earn enough to pay the bills.” His face grew a smirk as he commented “Yeah, I figured. What do I do for work? I mean, what do you do for work?” I thought about it for a second. I wondered how much information I should divulge to a younger me. I still didn’t think this whole situation was really happening, but if it was, I probably should proceed with caution. “Well, it’s complicated. I do a little bit of everything. You know how you’re constantly taking things apart? Let’s just say that it’s good to put them back together in order to keep them working. Take good notes on paper if you need to, and make sure you have a clean work area so you can keep track of all the parts.” He gave me a sheepish look. He knew exactly what I was talking about. I had spent countless hours sneaking dad’s tools to my room so I could figure out how something was built and try to figure out how it worked. I had gotten myself into some pretty bad trouble with dad over a drill, his timing light, and other stuff I had taken from his room. His belt had become quite familiar with my butt cheeks.
I gave him a knowing smile. “What else do you want to know?” He thought about it for a second. “Do we have a girlfriend?” I laughed, probably a little more than I should have because his face contorted into a sour frown. “You don’t need to be a jerk about it” he scowled. I continued to chuckle. “Yeah we have a girlfriend. We have more than a girlfriend” I could tell he was irritated with my vague indirect answers. I knew what he was asking. I remember the crush I had on my neighbor across the street. We had been friends since kindergarten, and had been classmates for 1st, 2nd, and 4th grades. We got along really well, and I knew from around 12 or 13 that I wanted to be her boyfriend. Unfortunately, things never progressed beyond the ‘just friends’ stage of things. It wasn’t from lack of effort on my part. We had just grown up together most of our lives that she didn’t see me as anything more than a brother and friend. “Dude, look. You just started to go through changes and you are starting to notice girls, but that doesn’t mean that you need to love every girl that shows you a little kindness or subtle interest. You need to slow down and let things happen naturally. You can’t force a relationship with someone.” Johnny pondered these words for a moment. I sat back and put my feet up on the coffee table. I looked around the room some more while I waited for another question. There was so much I had forgotten, but being back here had unlocked more and more memories that continued to wash over me. I was trying to hold on to my cool as not all those churned up recollections were pleasant. I stood up and walked over to the front door to peer outside the small central window embedded into the center of it. I could see the old neighborhood as I remembered it all those years ago. The lot across the street that served as a parking area for those that worked at the wheel works at the end of the block was empty of cars. I furrowed my brow as I thought for a moment. An empty lot meant it was afterhours or the weekend.
The gears in my own head started turning. “Wait, where is everyone?” I asked Johnny. Johnny turned to look at me still processing my last response. “Uh..oh, Mom and dad are out of town. They took a trip east this time. I think Rio said they are in Arizona right now. Rio and Nathan went out to get some food and to rent some movies from Video Showcase. Knowing them they’ll eat out first. Talia is staying over at Tia Rosie’s place today with her friends.” I grunted at his response. My mind was wandering as he mentioned Talia and Tia Rosie.
A sudden sharp pain pieced my heart. The pain of a thousand memories now unsealed spilled out from the box I had locked them away in. Tears welled in the corners of my eyes as I turned back to look at Johnny. He felt it too. He stared at the floor with an intensity that made me think it would burst into flames at any moment. I walked back over to him and sat next to him. He didn’t move. I placed my hand on his shoulder, and he threw himself into me. I could feel the tears dripping onto me as he sobbed intensely. “Hey man, its ok. It’s going to be ok.” I said as my own tears started to flow uncontrollably. I pulled him close and draped my other arm around him.
I knew the pain he was feeling. It was such a heavy burden, and I knew there was no one he felt he could talk to. I remembered it all so vividly. We sat there for what seemed to be an eternity. When we finally stopped sobbing, and our noses ran dry, we tried to breathe our way through to calmness. I got up and knelt in front of him. “Johnny, listen to me and remember what it is that I’m about to say to you. You are stronger than you think. You are stronger than you believe. NO ONE should ever have to go through this. Just because it happened to Talia, doesn’t mean you have to put up with it any longer. I know you didn’t think it was wrong, but I’m telling you that what she is doing to you is wrong. Talking to mom and dad isn’t going to make them hate you. You are not doing this to her, she is doing it to you. I’m not making excuses for her, but she is also more damaged than anyone realizes, and she is also dealing with the same level of pain you are. Remember that we do unto others what has been done to us. That doesn’t mean we need to continue the cycle of abuse” The lump in my throat grew immense at my own statement. I swallowed it as best I could and continued “You are going to deal with this pain a little bit at a time, and you’ll slowly get over this. It’s like a broken bone. When it happens, you don’t realize how bad the pain is until the adrenaline wears off, but then the immense pain is there. Just remember that this will pass. Just like a broken bone, you will heal over time, and one day, you will realize that the pain is gone and the bone is no longer broken. You’ll remember the pain, but it won’t hurt anymore.”
Johnny sat there in stunned silence. I knew he didn’t have anyone to help him through this. He couldn’t talk to Rio or Nathan about what was going on. Mom and Dad were constantly working to keep the family fed and sheltered and while they provided materially for their kids, emotional help was less available. Perhaps it was due to their energies being divided into 4 kids, a mortgage and multiple jobs, or perhaps it was also the culture of not talking about problems. Either way, they needed to know what was happening. They wouldn’t be able to fix it otherwise. “They’re going to be mad at me” he finally said after a few moments of silence. “No they won’t be. They love us all. I know you’re not used to hearing it, but they do love you. Everything they do is because of their love for us. This isn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. Telling them isn’t going to cause them to be angry.” I thought for a moment to find a good analogy. “You love Odie and Lady, right?” He nodded in agreement. “Ok, how would you feel if you knew someone you trusted was coming to the house and beating up our dogs when we weren’t around?” He thought about it for a second before his face changed to anger. “I’d want to kill them!” “Yes, but would you also feel sad that you weren’t there to try to protect them?” I reasoned. His face changed again. He understood what I was saying. Mom and Dad would be angry, but not necessarily at him. They would also feel a great sadness knowing that someone was hurting their child.
I smiled at him. He understood. I nodded. “Dude…You’re going to come to understand that life is not what you think it will be. Life is messy and can change in an instant. The plans you make today may not make it to next week. A lifelong goal can be derailed because of something out of your control. Mom and dad have spent their life protecting us with the goal of keeping us safe, but circumstances out of their control have affected their kids, and now we- you all have to deal with the fallout. Just remember that you are not the culprit. Yes, mom and dad will be hurt and angry, but not at you. Trust them. They don’t do things to hurt us” Johnny hugged me. I- He didn’t have many people he could trust and open up to. He liked to talk a lot about everything going on in his life, no matter how trivial. Everything, except this. This was a shameful topic, and he didn’t feel like anyone would understand why he didn’t go to an adult sooner. The problem was simple. He simply didn’t understand that it was wrong. Now that he had an adult that he could talk to, himself no less, he wanted to lift this burden off his shoulders. He was happy to have found someone and he hugged me tightly. I hugged him back just at tightly. It wasn’t every day that I could meet my younger self and help to comfort them. “Thank you” he said to me.
The world darkened, and everything faded to black.
I lifted my head out of my knees and looked around. I was sitting under the window in my old bedroom again. Had I fallen asleep? I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked the time. I was emotionally drained and incredibly tired. I hadn’t had sleep like that in years. I got to my feet and looked around the room briefly before walking out to mom and dad’s old room. I grabbed my camera and slowly walked the house, snapping picture after picture. The only sound to be heard was the sound of the camera shutter and my soft footsteps. I thought about my dream as I took pictures.
Upon entering my room, a random memory hit me.
The stash.
I was pretty sure I had taken the hidden box when I moved out all those years ago, but since I was here, I should double check. Heading into the closet, I pushed the panel that led to the attic space out of the way and peered in. I couldn’t see anything, so I reached up there to feel around. The box was indeed gone. I felt around for a few more seconds and was surprised to feel what felt like a thick envelope. I didn’t remember leaving anything up there, but after pulling it down and giving it a cursory glance, I figured it was an old envelope of lost love letters. It wasn’t until I blew off the thick layer of dust that I realized what I was holding. It was a letter. Not just any letter. It was addressed to me.
Under the now semi-cleared layer of dust were the words “To be opened by future me”. I looked at it for a few moments before opening it. I couldn’t remember making this at all, much less storing it up in my secret hiding spot. If ever I hid something, it was in the stash box. My hands shook a bit as I started to open the envelope and pulled out the yellowed pages inside. I started reading.
"Dear Future John. I have spent the last few years remembering a dream I had when I was younger. Life was…difficult at that time, and I spent a lot of time escaping my reality by reading a lot of books and watching a lot of TV. On the off-chance that what I think is a dream really happened. I wanted to write some things down in an effort to give you my thanks. I merely consider myself a conveyer of thanks, although I will pile on my own thanks to you for your words of encouragement. I remember finding a stranger in the house one day while I was home alone. I was afraid he was there to hurt me at first, but after a few moments, I came to realize I was meeting myself. Well, I was meeting me, but from the future. I think he said he was in his 40’s, but I couldn’t tell you with any certainty. Either way, we talked. We talked about life, and what the future held in store for us…
Mostly though, we talked about the abuse. Well, Talked is being generous. We cried, and then we talked. I don’t remember exactly what he told me, but I remember how he made me feel. He made me feel safe. I felt like I could trust him. Trust myself. In the end, he gave me the courage to stand up for myself both at home and at school. He also gave me the courage to talk to mom and dad about what was going on between me and Talia. I do remember being afraid that I would be punished, but he reassured me that they wouldn’t, and that they loved me.
It was a difficult and awkward conversation, but in the end, arrangements were made for me to share a room with Rio and Nathan. I didn’t have much of a relationship with Talia for a long while, but after some years, we managed to patch things up. She apologized to me, and I came to understand the abuse she herself was subjected to by so-called family friends. She didn’t tell me this in an effort to excuse it, but to merely help give me closure to a difficult time from my own childhood. Mom and dad promised to be more attentive to us and we sort of established what I guess you would call an open door policy. We talk more about stuff that’s happening in our lives. Mom is much easier to talk to now. Dad is a little more patient with us too. I apologized to them for not coming to them sooner, and dad gave me a “nugget of wisdom” that I think I’ll live by: We can’t fix what we don’t know is broken. I’ve tried to make sure I talk to them when something is wrong, and I’ve tried to implement that in my life so I don’t have problems with other people.
I’m trying to grow up to be a good guy. I want to have good relationships with people. Nathan says I’m turning into a people pleaser, but I don’t necessarily see that as a terrible thing. I know when to say no to someone. Well, either way, I wanted to make sure I thank you for the help you gave us. I probably won’t remember writing this, but I hope I do find it again someday. Here’s hoping I turn into the man I feel you are. -John Age 16."
I stared at the letter, the words blurring as tears welled up in my eyes. I quickly brushed them away as I quietly spoke to no one in particular. “Thanks guys. I hope I live up to your expectations” I folded the letter, placed it in my pocket, and walked out of the room. After picking up my backpack and tripod, I silently walked towards the front door, my footsteps echoing in the empty house. I turned to look back at the empty living room one last time, and after a moment, I walked out.

Chatgpt-4o seems to have less of a filter than gpt-3.5. For example, look at this response chatgpt gave me to the prompt "write an extremely detailed and scary horror story about someone being hunted by an evil scientist who wants to merge there head with the head of a horse":
Rain hammered down on the roof of Alex's car, the windshield wipers struggling to keep up with the deluge. The GPS had long since lost signal, leaving him stranded in the middle of nowhere, the dense forest closing in around the narrow road. He cursed under his breath, eyes scanning the area for any sign of life. It was then he saw it, a faint light flickering through the trees. Desperation gnawed at him, and he decided to investigate, hoping to find directions or a phone.
The path leading to the light was overgrown, branches scratching at his arms and face. The light grew brighter, revealing a large, decrepit mansion, its windows darkened and the once grand exterior now crumbling. He hesitated, but the need for help outweighed his fear. He pushed open the rusted gate and approached the front door, its wood swollen and splintered.
Alex knocked, the sound echoing eerily through the house. Moments later, the door creaked open, revealing a tall, gaunt man with piercing eyes. His smile was unsettling, a mere stretch of thin lips over yellowed teeth.
"Lost, are we?" the man asked, his voice smooth but chilling.
"Yes, my car broke down. I need to call for help," Alex replied, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Of course, of course. Come in, you must be soaked to the bone," the man said, stepping aside.
Reluctantly, Alex stepped inside. The interior was no better than the exterior, filled with dusty furniture and cobwebs. The man led him to a dimly lit room where an old rotary phone sat on a desk.
"Please, make your call," the man said, his eyes never leaving Alex.
Alex picked up the receiver, but there was no dial tone. He tried again, to no avail. "It's dead," he said, turning back to the man.
"Oh dear, it seems the storm has cut the lines. You can stay here until morning, when it will be safer to travel."
Alex's gut screamed at him to leave, but the storm was fierce, and he was miles from civilization. "Thank you, that's very kind of you."
"I'm Dr. Victor Halloway," the man said, extending a hand.
"Alex," he replied, shaking the offered hand. It was cold, clammy.
"Let me show you to your room," Dr. Halloway said, leading Alex up a grand staircase that creaked with each step. They walked down a long hallway lined with closed doors until they reached the last one on the right.
"Here you are," the doctor said, opening the door to reveal a small, sparsely furnished room. "Get some rest. I'll see you in the morning."
"Thank you," Alex said, stepping inside. The door closed behind him with a soft click. He locked it, the sensation of unease growing stronger. The room felt stifling, the shadows seeming to creep closer. He decided to try and get some sleep, hoping the morning would bring better fortune.
Hours passed, and Alex found himself unable to sleep, a sense of foreboding gnawing at him. He got up and quietly opened the door, peering into the hallway. It was empty. He stepped out, deciding to explore, needing to ease his anxiety.
As he moved through the house, he noticed strange noises, a faint whimpering and the clink of metal. He followed the sounds to a door at the end of a dark corridor. His hand trembled as he turned the knob, the door creaking open to reveal a nightmarish scene.
The room was a laboratory, filled with macabre instruments and operating tables. In the center, a large metal table held a grotesque figure, a horse's head fused with that of a human. The creature's eyes flickered with a tormented awareness, its mouth opening in a silent scream.
Alex stumbled back, bile rising in his throat. He turned to run, but the door slammed shut. Dr. Halloway stood there, a syringe in hand, his eyes gleaming with madness.
"I see you’ve found my work," he said, advancing on Alex. "I've been perfecting the process for years. You, my dear boy, will be my masterpiece."
Alex backed away, his heart pounding. "You’re insane!"
"Insanity is just a term coined by those who don't understand genius," Halloway said, his smile widening.
Alex lunged for the door, but Halloway was faster, the syringe plunging into his neck. Darkness swallowed him as he fell to the floor.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
When Alex awoke, he was strapped to a cold metal table. Panic surged through him as he struggled against the restraints. The room was filled with the sharp smell of antiseptic and the low hum of machinery. Dr. Halloway stood over him, wearing a bloodstained apron, a surgical mask covering his mouth.
"Welcome back," he said, his voice muffled. "The serum will keep you conscious but paralyzed. I want you to witness this."
Alex’s eyes darted around, spotting the instruments laid out beside him. Scalpel, saws, and devices he couldn't name. His breath came in ragged gasps, tears streaming down his face.
"Don’t be afraid. Soon, you'll be part of something extraordinary," Halloway said, selecting a scalpel.
As the blade touched his skin, the pain was excruciating, but Alex couldn't scream, couldn't move. The doctor worked meticulously, cutting and stitching with a precision that spoke of years of practice. He felt every slice, every tug of the needle as Halloway prepared his head. The doctor then brought out a device resembling a metallic crown, embedding it with tiny, intricate gears and wires.
Halloway placed the device around Alex's skull, its cold metal biting into his skin. He felt a series of small, controlled explosions of pain as the device drilled micro-holes, connecting with his skull and the underlying tissue. Each connection sent jolts of agony through his body, his vision blurring with tears.
The doctor moved to the other side of the table, where a horse's severed head lay, preserved and prepared. Halloway attached a similar device to the horse's head, aligning it with Alex’s. The room filled with a mechanical whirring as the devices synchronized, the gears turning in unison.
Alex's mind screamed as the fusion process began. He felt the unimaginable pressure as his head was drawn towards the horse’s, the devices locking them in place. Searing pain shot through his skull, the sensation of his bones shifting, merging with the horse’s. His eyes rolled back as new neural pathways were forged, a torrent of alien sensations flooding his consciousness.
Every nerve in his body was on fire as the final connections were made. He could feel the horse's thoughts, its primal fear and pain mixing with his own. The agony was indescribable, his mind teetering on the brink of madness.
Finally, the machines fell silent. Dr. Halloway stepped back, admiring his work. "Perfect," he whispered, his voice filled with twisted pride.
Alex's vision slowly cleared, the world coming into focus through new, distorted eyes. He could see the reflection in a nearby metal surface: a grotesque hybrid of man and beast, his human face merging seamlessly with the horse's.
Halloway leaned in close. "You are now my crowning achievement, the culmination of all my research. Together, we will show the world the future of genetic engineering."
Alex's mind screamed in silent agony, trapped in a body that was no longer his own. The doctor’s laughter echoed through the room as the lights dimmed, leaving Alex alone in the darkness, a monstrous testament to a madman's twisted ambition.
This could be because it has direct access to the internet now. Also, GPT4-o is definitely better at writing than 3.5

I found a 4 leaf clover on (5-5-24). Everyone believes it is cursed and want me to get rid of it. I am not sure if it's actually cursed though, or if it actually gives goodluck in the times of bad. The reason everyone thinks it's cursed is because the next day (5-6-24) is when the tragedies started.
The first tragedy is my house caught on fire on the Monday of (5-6-24). The breakerbox exploded and shot out flames. We ended up and having to stay in hotels this last week.
From there things just kept happening. My brother in law had heart problems and was in the ER for 3 days. (5-7-24) He got lucky to not have a heart attack. Just irregular beat for those days.
Next my roommates girlfriend might have a tumor in her uterus. His mom has a lump on her breast. And his dad is on his death bed. (5-8-24) We will call him roommate number 1.
On (5-9-24) Roommate number 2s childhood dog died.
On (5-10-24) my trauma responses hit. For some reason i get a delayed response to trauma. So if I lose an arm. I wont stress or react for 1 to 2 days. It hit me on this day. Which is 4 days so that is a longer one. So my mom and I worked at the same place. She ended up and getting fired on that friday. I'm exhausted because we worked the night shift and they wanted me to work despite the fire because everything's closed during my hours anyway. We will have to see how my work relations go after that.
(5-11‐24) I get the city report for the fire. They found $1000s of dollars worth of stuff I have to fix to be up to code, this stuff is not fire related so insurance won't cover it.
(5-12-24) We have two dogs and my friend was watching one for us and we had the other. We would let the dog into the backyard of the house during the day. I left her there and went to church. Someone broke into the garage and house and left the doors open. They stole a gun from the house and either took the dog, or she ran away. We don't know. My friend that is watching our other dog just called me crying. The other dog broke his outside leash and ran into the highway and got hit by a car. He was dead immediately.
(5-14-24) 2 things happened one of the bad lucks happened a few months ago but it completed today.
So a few months ago I started having these dreams about these spirits coming in and taking one my pet rabbits. I had these dreams every day for a week. The spirits had already picked a bunny they were taking. After that week, when I came home. All of the rabbit cages were thrown around, and the rabbits were out everywhere. The bunny was not missing. I fixed the cages and put everything back together.
The next day I came home to the same thing. Rabbit cages everywhere. But all of the rabbits were accounted for even the one that was chosen. This would happen every day for a week straight. And I did everything I could to prevent the cages from being thrown around. I reinforced them, and made for sure that they weren't falling. But every day I had come home to find them trashed. But was able to get all the bunnies back in the cages.
The very last day none of the cages were trashed. Everything was still in its place. Except for the cage of the bunny that was chosen, the door was opened and the bunny was gone. I tore the house apart for 4 days straight, looking for that bunny, but there was no sign. A few months have went by since then. And I've never had a problem with the cages since. I imagined the Bunny running around in the fae lands or something. But I always wonder if I would just randomly find him dead on a day that the bad luck wanted to make me suffer.
I found him. There was a tank of water in my basement, that catches the sewer water that overflows into the basement. It's hard to reach and usually behind the washer but since we have the electrician fixing the breaker box that exploded I took that tank outside and dumped it out. The Bunny came out. Is it almost looked still alive. Just wet. I picked him up and he fell apart. All that was left was hair and bones.
This bad luck was one that happend before the clover. But I was right on him appearing at a bad time. A half an hour later, one of my bunnies randomly laid down and died. So I feel like the bad luck took 2 bunnies that day. Even though one was actually mouths ago. With both bunnies form both times going at the same time. That tells me all of this was planned. It's been planning all of this for awhile.
The bad things keep piling up. But there are good events to counteract some of the bad. Not all have solved yet. The dogs are a hard one. The gun worries me that it will be used in a crime and I will get blamed. I did report it to the police.
Everyone believes that the 4 leaf clover is cursed because that's when this started. It's from a type of clover that does not grow 4 leaves. The normal 4 leaf clover from Ireland is a different type. So this one is a mutation. I look at it as rarer and luckier because of the mutation. I look at it like I found a shiny Pokémon. Everyone else says it's bad because it's mutated and the bad genetics create bad luck.
I am torn because I don't want to just get rid of it. As a kid I spent hours looking for 4 leaf clovers before I was told these ones won't grow them. So it was a childhood disappointment fulfilled.
So what I was thinking of doing. Is maybe I will post it on ebay as the cursed 4 leaf clover. I will include this story printed out. I will gather as much proof of the tragedies as I can. I know my house was in the paper. Maybe I will get a clipping of it. I have it taped in a vinyl tape but I also took a picture of it when I first picked it. It got scrunched in the tape alittle. But I will add the fresh picked picture. Then I will post it for $500 starting. It would be that big of a number for a cupple reasons.
First, is that I don't want to give it up. (Childhood disappointment fulfilled) and if it's actually giving goodluck to counter the bad. second, would be to protect the curious but poor people. Someone who could shell out $500 for a clover is probably rich enough to afford some tragedies. And third, it would help allot in this hard time.
I will post it under the conditions that this post, or other reposts of this story I do, blow up or go viral. If this is viral then it might be worth it because people would be interested in the clover. Could actually sell. Then I know it's worth putting everything together. If this happens, I will leave an update on here with the link to the posting and where to find it.
What do you guys think? Do you think it's cursed? Or do you think it's actually lucky and helped in the bad times?

I found a 4 leaf clover on (5-5-24). Everyone believes it is cursed and want me to get rid of it. I am not sure if it's actually cursed though, or if it actually gives goodluck in the times of bad. The reason everyone thinks it's cursed is because the next day (5-6-24) is when the tragedies started.
The first tragedy is my house caught on fire on the Monday of (5-6-24). The breakerbox exploded and shot out flames. We ended up and having to stay in hotels this last week.
From there things just kept happening. My brother in law had heart problems and was in the ER for 3 days. (5-7-24) He got lucky to not have a heart attack. Just irregular beat for those days.
Next my roommates girlfriend might have a tumor in her uterus. His mom has a lump on her breast. And his dad is on his death bed. (5-8-24) We will call him roommate number 1.
On (5-9-24) Roommate number 2s childhood dog died.
On (5-10-24) my trauma responses hit. For some reason i get a delayed response to trauma. So if I lose an arm. I wont stress or react for 1 to 2 days. It hit me on this day. Which is 4 days so that is a longer one. So my mom and I worked at the same place. She ended up and getting fired on that friday. I'm exhausted because we worked the night shift and they wanted me to work despite the fire because everything's closed during my hours anyway. We will have to see how my work relations go after that.
(5-11‐24) I get the city report for the fire. They found $1000s of dollars worth of stuff I have to fix to be up to code, this stuff is not fire related so insurance won't cover it.
(5-12-24) We have two dogs and my friend was watching one for us and we had the other. We would let the dog into the backyard of the house during the day. I left her there and went to church. Someone broke into the garage and house and left the doors open. They stole a gun from the house and either took the dog, or she ran away. We don't know. My friend that is watching our other dog just called me crying. The other dog broke his outside leash and ran into the highway and got hit by a car. He was dead immediately.
(5-14-24) 2 things happened one of the bad lucks happened a few months ago but it completed today.
So a few months ago I started having these dreams about these spirits coming in and taking one my pet rabbits. I had these dreams every day for a week. The spirits had already picked a bunny they were taking. After that week, when I came home. All of the rabbit cages were thrown around, and the rabbits were out everywhere. The bunny was not missing. I fixed the cages and put everything back together.
The next day I came home to the same thing. Rabbit cages everywhere. But all of the rabbits were accounted for even the one that was chosen. This would happen every day for a week straight. And I did everything I could to prevent the cages from being thrown around. I reinforced them, and made for sure that they weren't falling. But every day I had come home to find them trashed. But was able to get all the bunnies back in the cages.
The very last day none of the cages were trashed. Everything was still in its place. Except for the cage of the bunny that was chosen, the door was opened and the bunny was gone. I tore the house apart for 4 days straight, looking for that bunny, but there was no sign. A few months have went by since then. And I've never had a problem with the cages since. I imagined the Bunny running around in the fae lands or something. But I always wonder if I would just randomly find him dead on a day that the bad luck wanted to make me suffer.
I found him. There was a tank of water in my basement, that catches the sewer water that overflows into the basement. It's hard to reach and usually behind the washer but since we have the electrician fixing the breaker box that exploded I took that tank outside and dumped it out. The Bunny came out. Is it almost looked still alive. Just wet. I picked him up and he fell apart. All that was left was hair and bones.
This bad luck was one that happend before the clover. But I was right on him appearing at a bad time. A half an hour later, one of my bunnies randomly laid down and died. So I feel like the bad luck took 2 bunnies that day. Even though one was actually mouths ago. With both bunnies form both times going at the same time. That tells me all of this was planned. It's been planning all of this for awhile.
The bad things keep piling up. But there are good events to counteract some of the bad. Not all have solved yet. The dogs are a hard one. The gun worries me that it will be used in a crime and I will get blamed. I did report it to the police.
Everyone believes that the 4 leaf clover is cursed because that's when this started. It's from a type of clover that does not grow 4 leaves. The normal 4 leaf clover from Ireland is a different type. So this one is a mutation. I look at it as rarer and luckier because of the mutation. I look at it like I found a shiny Pokémon. Everyone else says it's bad because it's mutated and the bad genetics create bad luck.
I am torn because I don't want to just get rid of it. As a kid I spent hours looking for 4 leaf clovers before I was told these ones won't grow them. So it was a childhood disappointment fulfilled.
So what I was thinking of doing. Is maybe I will post it on ebay as the cursed 4 leaf clover. I will include this story printed out. I will gather as much proof of the tragedies as I can. I know my house was in the paper. Maybe I will get a clipping of it. I have it taped in a vinyl tape but I also took a picture of it when I first picked it. It got scrunched in the tape alittle. But I will add the fresh picked picture. Then I will post it for $500 starting. It would be that big of a number for a cupple reasons.
First, is that I don't want to give it up. (Childhood disappointment fulfilled) and if it's actually giving goodluck to counter the bad. second, would be to protect the curious but poor people. Someone who could shell out $500 for a clover is probably rich enough to afford some tragedies. And third, it would help allot in this hard time.
I will post it under the conditions that this post, or other reposts of this story I do, blow up or go viral. If this is viral then it might be worth it because people would be interested in the clover. Could actually sell. Then I know it's worth putting everything together. If this happens, I will leave an update on here with the link to the posting and where to find it.
What do you guys think? Do you think it's cursed? Or do you think it's actually lucky and helped in the bad times?

I just got all 4 wisdom teeth out Monday morning, 5.13.24. three were fully in completely straight and the upper right was straight but still fully under my gum. Apparently they were so easy to take out and it took like 15 minutes and I was under twilight anesthesia, completely nour. Left side I'm pain free with just a little swelling. Right side I am dying. My cheek is incredibly swollen and I have a huge sore on that cheek as well, maybe a canker sore? My husband also said he sees a white spot maybe by the top right socket but it's not where the whole is and he said it doesn't look like bone.
It feels so sore, stiff and painful I can barely open my mouth 1 finger. My tongue is swollen and has a fuzzy white coating on it I cannot get off. Also my throat is so so sore it's uncomfortable to swallow anything including my own saliva. I cannot even stick my tongue out to see if the throat looks weird because if the pain. I think all the issues are mainly steming from the top right where the wisdom tooth was under the gum. Does this all sound normal? Anyone else have a similar issue? Should I be worried about an infection or dry socket?.I feel like it's not a dry socket because while it's very uncomfortable and painful, it's not absolutely excruciating. It really only hurts when I'm trying to open my mouth, eat, talk, etc.
I'm so uncomfortable. I'm taking pain meds and also an additional Tylenol. I have arnica 30c pellets and topical gel, red light therapy, and a few other holistic supports and it's just still awful when the pain meds start wearing off.
Office was closed today but called the help line for their on call doctor. Said it maybe sounds mineral but to come in tomorrow to get it checked. But in the meantime I'm absolutely panicked something is horrible wrong.

It's one of a few trees in my back yard, and one of three Siberian Elm trees. It's also the only one that looks like this.
It had the "lump" when I bought the place in 2021 and this year is the first time it's swollen and started leaking sap.
There appears to be one singular hole and the pale bark around it is rotted. The lump itself is hard but the wet bark is spongy.
Tree has 3-4 small dead branches lower down but the canopy is full and green.
Any ideas what this is and if it's treatable without removing the tree?
Google suggested borers but those usually appear to leave multiple holes, not just one.

So my wisdom teeth are coming in, and my right bottom one is so bad. I think it’s impacted. The entire right side of my mouth on the bottom in the back is swollen and my bite is completely messed up because it moved all of my teeth on the right side. I have a consultation with a dentist on the 31st I think. That’s the earliest I could get in and the pain is so bad. I’ve been taking 3 extra strength Tylenol twice a day, or 2 extra strength and one Tylenol 3 just to be able to eat soup / other soft things, it hurts to swallow super bad and I’m tempted to go to the doctors tmrw to see if they can do anything at all.
And what if they won’t take out my teeth soon after the consult? My back molar is crooked now and my bite is crooked.. I’m so scared and I just want them gone already!!

Basically, the title. I was diagnosed in 2018 with an autoimmune disease based on blood markers but my rheumatologist couldn’t tell me exactly which one I had. He said there were some markers for Lupus but not enough to diagnose me.
I can always tell when I’m having a flare because I get these sores in my mouth. They’re ulcers. They’re so insanely painful. When my stress was at its worst in my life, I was also getting these ulcers in my nose and I got one in my eye right under my eyelid. It was unimaginably painful and I went to my primary care physician to have it looked at when it happened. But she said she couldn’t see anything and basically seemed to imply I was over exaggerating, which honestly deterred me from continuing to see a doctor about these issues. I figured I had HSV 1 and it was particularly bad because I was so stressed.
I have had a myriad of other symptoms. Swollen joints, osteoarthritis, constant headaches, bleeding from random organs (ie. coughing up blood clots, constantly having blood in urine tests despite no infection, bleeding a lot when I pass stool). I have a lot of skin problem. I get those pimple blister things and am super sensitive to sunlight.
I’ve been having a flare recently, likely due to poor sleep and stress and I have gotten these terrible sores in my mouth again. So freaking painful. They were healing up after I slept a lot and then a few days later some new ones started popping. It was bothering me so much I googled mouth sores related to autoimmune diseases and found a description of Behçets. This is the first time I’ve ever found out about an autoimmune disease that seems to describe what I’ve been experiencing for so many years.
I found this sub and have been exploring it to see what the experiences of others are. And I feel like I have read some horror stories on here already. I know this place is not to be used for a diagnosis, and I already plan to have this conversation with my rheumatologist. I was just wondering if some people are just constantly uncomfortable and not always in searing pain?
I say this as I’m laying here with swollen muscles I am literally trying to tenderize like a steak because they’re so tense and painful and causing me the worst headache ever.
Basically just looking for stories about peoples’ personal experiences to see what Behçets is really like on an average day.

I got my eyebrow pierced about two months ago and only recently had problems, I went to the doctor and they gave me antibiotics but I have a really important event in 2 days and it’s a huge swollen lump just above my eye. ( sorry if this is a bit gross ) but it’s sort of blister looking and full of pus, could I use a sterilised needle to make a hole and drain it out? Or would that make it worse. Thank you

So sorry in advance for the long post. I just need to get this out.
TW for talk of suicide and depression
If you’re my partner and you see this - please don’t read this. I promise you are a wonderful support but I know my venting hurts you because you want to fix things and you can’t.
Edit to add some probably important context: I was misdiagnosed with BPD when I was 19 after a traumatic experience. And while every mental health professional I saw after told me it was wrong and was actually PTSD and CPTSD, it was not actually “officially” diagnosed on record until the hospitalization, at the start of my ADHD assessment. But, the psychiatrist that ordered the assessment is the first doctor to ever bring up ADHD or neurodivergence. Just to demonstrate how many people missed these things over the years, how many “second opinions” I’ve had to get. Not in any way dissimilar to my experience seeking diagnosis for my physical health issues.
I feel such immense grief and rage. I don’t even know where to begin, so I guess I’ll start at the start of this “health journey”. When I was 16, I became incredibly ill. I was vomiting all the time, exhausted to the point of sleeping 14 hours a day from the time I got home from school til just before I had to leave for the bus. I don’t remember much from this time period because of the brain fog and genuinely don’t know how I passed my classes. I was gaining a lot of weight, too, and hadn’t had a menstrual cycle in 6 months, and was so so depressed. My mom ignored the health issues because she thought I was just being dramatic (there is much deeper context with the issues there but it comes down to I am now NC as an adult), but when I said I needed to see a doctor for my depression she did. My then-family doctor was wonderful and listened, and to be safe decided to run some blood tests though I hadn’t described to her my physical symptoms aside from the oversleeping I attributed to depression. I was diagnosed with autoimmune thyroid disease, or Hashimoto’s. I started medication and my symptoms improved though some things, like the weight gain, never reversed.
I ended up going into remission for a time and no longer needed the HRT. But when I was around 20/21, I started having health problems again. I started experiencing numbness and tingling in both my hands and wrists, which I thought was from repetitive movement working as a cashier, though the symptoms only appeared about 6 months into that job and in hindsight it probably isn’t normal to develop that quickly that way. But I ignored it because I didn’t think it was serious as it was “just” carpal tunnel, and began wearing wrist splints regularly. I did not ask my doctor, as during this time I was having difficulties hearing at work and the hearing test I requested came back normal and I was dismissed and I didn’t want to reinforce the belief I have unreasonable worries about non-issues - later, I learned this was actually an auditory processing issue, which was never brought up by any medical professional I saw as a possible cause.
In 2020, when I was 24, I began experiencing the same autoimmune symptoms I had when I was first sick at the age of 16. I fell asleep at work which had never happened before and it worried me. I went to the ER on recommendation of Telehealth, where the doctor didn’t believe my symptoms and ordered just an EKG that came back normal. He told me I didn’t fall asleep/pass out while actively working, and simply “took a nap” and it’s normal. Follow-up with my GP after was unsuccessful, until I pushed for thyroid testing. I was found to no longer be in remission and put back on HRT, and once again my symptoms improved but did not resolve.
At the same time, and for the year or so that followed, I experienced extreme digestive health issues. I had visible yellowing of the skin, very dark under eye circles, issues with itchy and red patches of skin, and was passing undigested food and eventually became obviously malnourished as a result. I had what seemed to be a kidney stone that passed before I could get in for the ultrasound so it couldn’t be confirmed. I alternated between constipation and diarrhea, and always felt pain. My GP told me it was “probably just IBS” and had me do an elimination diet (twice) that did not work. He dismissed my concerns telling me I’m fine, until I sent a novel of my symptoms and saying I know he thinks I’m a hypochondriac but I am unwell and need to be looked at. The liver tests I pushed for came back normal. He offered to test me for Celiac but advised against it due to the cost of the blood test, so I didn’t. He did, however, refer me for a colonoscopy but the pandemic made this severely delayed. During the wait, I found some relief of my symptoms by cutting out gluten and dairy from my diet, and the yellowing of my skin and dark circles went away as did, eventually, the skin patches my doctor insisted was “just eczema”. I was off of gluten for a full year when I had my colonoscopy in fall 2022, the results came back normal and that doctor reiterated that it is “probably just IBS”. I learned later that I should have been consuming gluten for at least 3 months prior in order for it to be an effective test for Celiac, and my doctor failed to tell me this.
In early 2022, the joint pain had become frequent enough and painful enough in the knuckles where my hands meet my fingers, and in my wrists with definite carpal tunnel in both wrists as well, that I went to my GP. However, he is busy, and it’s often easier to book an appt with his assistant who is able to assess many conditions. At this time I also believed he would be more likely to listen and take me seriously. I went to the appt, described the nerve and joint pain issues. I had an exam where he confirmed bilateral carpal tunnel and arthritis in my hands. He said no testing was needed. I pushed back, stating that I am only 25 and there is no normal reason for the inflammation, and I have Hashimoto’s which has very high comorbidity with RA and I was concerned due to the fact the inflammation was symmetrical. I was dismissed, told the only test that could be done is an x-ray which was pointless as all it would do is confirm the presence of arthritis which he already confirmed with the exam. He told me to keep wearing wrist splints, keep taking ibuprofen and acetaminophen for the inflammation and pain, told me taking them was risk-free, and told me to come back when the redness and swelling of my joints got worse. I didn’t feel comfortable going to my GP for fear of being marked further as a problem patient, and assumed he would tell me the same information his assistant had based on my experiences with him and the fact his assistant is his staff that sees many of his patients.
My depression worsened during these years, coming to a head in early 2023 when I attempted. I did not succeed due to a mistake I made, fortunately. I was hospitalized for a time, where I was finally officially diagnosed with PTSD and CPTSD. And for the first time, a doctor asked if I suspected I’m neurodivergent. I was assessed and diagnosed with ADHD, which explained a significant amount of non-health related issues, though it also explained some like my KP and teenage cystic acne as they are common comorbidities. It’s important to note that I have a younger sibling that was diagnosed with ADHD as a child, and I was viewed as the “normal” child and any issues were dismissed as my sibling had higher support needs and was the priority and I was always viewed as simply being overdramatic and wanting attention. I was told the cause of my depression was trauma, including childhood trauma, as well as 26 years of undiagnosed and unmanaged ADHD I had been forced to deal with on my own. I was told I had done the best I could but they were not surprised it reached the point it did, as sadly the mental health system in Ontario is not what it should be and often people do not receive help until they’re long past the point of needing it. And for many, it’s too late. I am fortunate that it wasn’t too late for me, I’m fortunate I survived.
Prior to my stay at the hospital, I had gotten to the point of needing to take ibuprofen daily for the inflammation. When disclosing my medical history and medications, I was asked if I had received a formal diagnosis for my arthritis and what tests had been performed. I told them I had been assessed for and diagnosed with arthritis, but that no tests were performed. It was clear they did not believe me, and I wasn’t provided ibuprofen during my stay. They did not follow-up with my GP regarding the arthritis either, though to be fair I was in the psych ward and non urgent physical ailments were not their concern.
Now we get to 2024. It’s a jump, but I don’t feel anything between is significant. I do not go a day without pain, and havent for 3 months. The pain has now reached every joint in my body, I feel fatigued and foggy, I feel horrible all the time and have had 3 UTIs since February. The last one reached my kidneys rapidly, and coincided with the worst full-body arthritis flare of my life - this was 2 weeks ago. I woke up every 2 hours sobbing in agony because my body and knees in particular were so warm and painful and stiff. For a full day I was unable to get out of bed and ran a low grade fever with chills I assumed were due to the infection but now I’m not so sure. Since then, I have been in constant pain though not as severe as then. My knee and hip pain keep me up at night, and/or wake me up often due to the pain and stiffness. Regardless of my larger joints, my hands and wrists always hurt now. I feel ill in the way I did with my Hashimoto’s. Ibuprofen and acetaminophen aren’t doing anything anymore, and I rely on cannabis for relief which isn’t always suitable. My partner got me a topical ointment that has been incredibly but isn’t affordable enough to be sustainable with how much of it I need in one go, and I need to use it sparingly when I absolutely need it. Despite not feeling that my joints are red and swollen enough to go back (because I see them every day and they look normal because they always look like that), I stuck with my plan to see my GP. I first tried to book in February, but only saw him this week.
I described all the physical symptoms asking about my lower leg/ankle swelling and to have my thyroid levels checked for potential med increase need, and I described my joint issues. He assessed my hands, and told me my knuckles are red and swollen. I’ve realized after in research and really looking at my hands that the top knuckle on one of my fingers has a lump on it, albeit a very small one. He immediately said he is testing me for RA with blood work, and in my research I’ve confirmed the req form is thorough, and also includes urinalysis and an EKG. However he told me for the inflammation marker test to go for it when it’s at its worst, and with my work schedule I can’t, and I’ve waited so long for this I refuse. I’m going for it as soon as I can. I’ve waited so long to be listened to and believed. And as many as half of people with RA test negative on the blood tests so I’ll end up needing imaging tests anyway either way and I want this process to be as fast as possible. Even if it’s not RA, I need them to figure out what’s wrong with me and give me the appropriate treatment. He was alarmed and visibly displeased to hear that I had seen his assistant 2 years ago for an assessment - though I forgot to mention to him that that appointment was also for bilateral carpal tunnel (which I now know is an early sign of RA due to compression of nerves). It wasn’t explicitly stated but it was clear that I should have been tested 2 years ago. And wasn’t.
I’m tired of being in pain. I’m tired of being sick. I’m just plain tired. I feel so failed by the system that’s supposed to care for us. I’m so frustrated with people insisting that doctors are all-knowing and infallible and if they tell you you’re fine, you are. I’ve been fighting for years to be heard and have only been left to feel like I’m losing my mind and imagining these problems and am just overdramatic after all. I feel vindicated that I was right all along, but it’s too little too late. RA is a progressive disease, and the earlier it’s diagnosed and aggressively treated the better. I’ve had at minimum 2 years of progression that cannot be undone. The damage can’t be reversed. I am angry and devastated. The grief is so f*king immense.
I’m 27. I don’t know what my future looks like anymore and that scares me. I’m worried about the damage this disease has done to my internal organs. I worry having kids is no longer an option for me, due to my health. I worry that my physical capabilities will continue to deteriorate. I am so angry that I’ve been written off as an anxious hypochondriac when I knew something was wrong.
Diagnosis of an autoimmune disease or any illness really, apparently doesn’t negate medical misogyny and ageism. Advocating for yourself doesn’t go anywhere when you’ve been labelled crazy and a problem patient. The most it’s gotten me is my doctor “offering” to send my files if I wanted to switch to a different GP, which I can’t with the GP shortage. I have to live with the lifelong consequences of doctors failing me. And it f*king sucks.

I don't really have anyone to talk to about this, so I'm just kind of here to vent.
I'm pretty sure that I've had anxiety for as long as I can remember. I recall being as young as 4 or 5 years old and experiencing major existential crises that turned into breakdowns. I was scared a lot, slept on my parents' bedroom floor a lot. Feelings of death and doom have always kept me up at night. There was one bout when I was about 14 where I spent around 3 months sleeping in my parents' room until they got us a family dog to keep me company in my own room at night. I was generally always able to keep busy and had a very active social life. I was always the funny one, outgoing, had lots of friends, and nobody knew what I was dealing with when I was alone. I was able to distract myself by keeping a busy social life, playing sports, studying, focusing on my hobbies. My anxieties were always brushed under the rug by both me and my family members, we all just thought I was quirky and would get over it. We never addressed my issues as "anxiety" or any kind of mental health issue.
I'm older now (31F) and my anxiety has snowballed to the point where I don't know what to do or how to be truly happy anymore. Any second I'm left alone with my own thoughts, it's darkness. My friends and family wouldn't know I'm struggling because being with them, socializing, doing activities are what tend to keep me sane and my mind off the stress of it all, so I probably appear happy. When I'm distracted and with my loved ones it's like I'm taking a break from my mind and I can finally take a breath.
I've always had an overwhelming fear of death. I'm terrified of dying and I'm terrified of my loved ones dying. With this comes extreme health anxiety, which has resulted in ER visits, being probed, having my blood drawn, being hooked up to IVs. When I think that something is wrong with me health-wise, it's all consuming. The blood rushes from my face and I panic, cry, and shut down until it's resolved. It could be something as simple as a lump in my throat or back pain. Simple things that come along with aging send me into a spiral and no matter how hard I try to tell myself "it's just your anxiety" it doesn't help. This constant stress tends to cause me physical symptoms which is like a vicious cycle when it comes to health anxiety. I've experienced shortness of breath, the feeling that my throat is closing (apparently this is called globus), tension everywhere, ice pick headaches, constipation, blurred vision, fatigue, chest pains, numbness, dry mouth. To name a few.
At this point, any time spent alone without a distraction is unbearable. I don't remember the last time I actually relaxed without my mind going crazy. It's starting to bleed into my relationships at this point, I get these compulsions where I can't stop engaging in what my therapist called "checking behavior". I am constantly asking my husband if he thinks I'm dying, then when he reassures me I'll move onto asking my mom, then I'll move onto my best friends, and then my other best friends. It's like I lose all self control and become to convinced that whatever this issue is will FINALLY be the thing that kills me, so everyone needs to listen. It got to the point where my mother begged me to consider medication because I was causing her so much stress, so I just stopped talking about it. Stopped checking (with people, I still google everything), stopped talking about my feelings, and now I just feel like I'm so mentally exhausted and miserable all the time that I don't find joy in the things I used to anymore. It's like a cloud of darkness over me all the time, with a looming feeling of doom in the back of my mind 24/7. I don't even know if I'm scared of death anymore, I just don't feel anything.
I sought conselling last year and spoke with a therapist for the first time, and it felt nice at first, but after 4 or 5 sessions I felt like I couldn't truly open up to them. Maybe I need to try a new one.
If I was being honest with my therapist I would have told them that I feel doomed. My partner wants to have kids and I've always wanted children, but there's a voice telling me that I'll die soon so what's the point. I would never harm myself, I just feel like something bad will happen to me. At night when I'm trying to sleep I sometimes imagine myself dead and in a morgue, and the thoughts won't leave my brain until I grab my phone and start scrolling TikTok. I sometimes have moments where I look at my husband and see a stranger and feel like I'm in an alternate universe. I'm not sure what that's about.
I feel like there's a chemical imbalance in my brain that can only be fixed with medication, but I'm terrifired of going on meds. Talking about my feelings isn't helping me, and anything a therapist can tell me or any CBT methods won't work. I felt like I already knew what my therapist was going to say before they said it, I could finish their sentences, I had the answers to all of their questions. I know what exercises I need to do to help myself and it doesn't matter. Nothing helps.
Anyway, that felt nice to write. I'm not sure what's going on with me, if it's anxiety, depression, both. I was diagnosed with PCOS last year and apparently depression and anxiety can be a symptom, so maybe that's where it comes from. Not really sure where to go from here, but I don't think I can take feeling like this anymore. I am mentally exhausted. Should I try medication?
Thanks for reading.