Roll roth ira into life insurance

New York, nicknamed the center of the universe, was once a beacon for the ambitious and talented of America. It was a bustling city filled with dense urban life. That changed in 2077 when the bombs dropped, it wasn’t only reduced to rubble but was hit with salted atomics leaving it highly radioactive. From the ashes some still clung to life and small subsistence ghoul communities formed. It's only been within the last decade that radiation has receded to liveable standards, and the city is once again seeing a return to life as wastelanders flock to its shores. These new settlers pass under the shadows of once great skyscrapers that litter the city, crumbling like ancient gravestones from the world that once was.
Up until 2290, every decade Vault 99 has been given a random list of dwellers that must be exiled and can’t be contacted until unification day. This game begins on that unification day, where characters might be vault dwellers seeing the wastes for the first time or those that were exiled returning to their ancestral home. The campaign has a faction focus and the players will shape their vault and its emergence into the ruins of New York. What groups will they ally with? How will they rebuild? What will be their moral stance?
Hey there! I'm Sandpiper, he/him, twenty, and a student. I’m looking for 4-5 players for a weekly game with about fifteen sessions planned. I mainly run D&D but was inspired by the TV show to pick up Fallout 2d20. I'll have access to any books or materials needed for the campaign. . I emphasize roleplay over combat but expect at least one combat encounter every other session. I’ll be stealing some rules for factions from Dune Imperium which is built on the same 2d20 system. The game won’t be highly lethal as the goal is to explore these character’s stories but there is always a chance for death with bad rolls.
The game is going to be start at 7pm EST and ideally be around 3-4 hours, every Thursday. I had just finalized a group today but one of the players let me know they were no longer interested, session 0 this Thursday.
We’ll be using Roll 20 as a VTT and Discord will be used for communication, so a good microphone is needed.
One of my main goals is creating a safe environment for the campaign where everyone feels welcomed, respect for your fellow players is required.
If you have any questions feel free to message me, otherwise, fill out the survey and I hope to talk to you soon! Link

The original thread in manga is a post titled "Tsumiki Ogami & the Strange Everyday Life. - Volume 1 Cover", and it's an image of the cover art for the new series' volume 1 edition (Japanese manga chapters get compiled into physical volumes so you can read 7-8 chapters at a time in one book).
Now, I wrote in the title that the drama involves a power mod, and personally, I don't know how many subs someone can mod for before they're considered a power mod, but the redditors in this conversation mod 150+ subreddits for reference, so I consider that power mod status. One of these power mods in particular will create a new subreddit for every new Weekly Shonen Jump manga series, precisely so they can be the top mod for the subreddit and dictate how the rules go there. It should also be noted that this power mod creates a discord server for these series as well, and advertises it in the series' subreddits.
With that out of the way, the drama spawns shortly after a regular comment about the art for the volume: (regular redditors will be abbrev. as C1, C2, while power mod accounts will be Pmod1, Pmod2)

C1: BIG OL' STOMPERS. Pmod1: gonna have a field trip with this today Pmod2[OP]: go away [links to a comment in another thread which states: "Don't listen to [Pmod1]. It's the same guy who'll shill his new subreddit for any new manga that appears."] Pmod1: Why do you hate me punpun, I thought we were besties :( C2: Spiderman pointing at Spiderman C3: battle of the power mods: who can be mods for more manga subreddits

Even though the spiderman comment was in reply to Pmod2, Pmod1 reads it and decides to respond to C2:

C2: Spiderman pointing at Spiderman Pmod1: Lol why don't u go and mald over some [Weekly Shonen Jump] series sales and [Table of Contents] shit what are you doing here xd. C2: Get help Pmod1: Say the same thing again but infront of a mirror now. C2: You're so god damn weird jfc Pmod1: Yeah sure you come and comment under my thread and I'm the weird one. Get a life bro lol reddit isn't everything. C2: Yes, you're the weird one. Maybe take your own advice to heart Pmod1: Bro lives on reddit and discord and likes to hate everywhere lol. No wonder they always clown on you, you should look deeper into yourself where it all went wrong. C2: Please get help Pmod1: I'm pleading the same for you too! Please go get help, being obsessed with others isn't good for you. C2: Yes, surely it's me being obsessed and not you. Get help, please. Pmod1: Just stop replying to me brother it's looking mad embarrassing for you [at this point]. C2: It's looking embarrassing for me when you're the one who replied to a comment that wasn't even a direct reply to you within a minute? Pmod1: Maybe stop sharing it to ur secret wicket discord server 😉 C2: This just makes you look even worse 😭 What would you have done if I hadn't made that comment here? Don't want your alt to get exposed and that's why you replied here instead of the discord even though the comment was made minutes later? Pmod1: What is bro yapping about 😭 go play with some charts or something don't disturb me now

(The way Pmod1 is talking to C2 makes it seems like C2 is a power mod, but I checked the account and they only mod 3 subreddits, so probably not? Anyways, the conversation, continued:)

C2: You are the one who started this convo man lmaoooo Pmod1: Yeah sure that's why it shows u being the one who said "Spiderman pointing at spiderman" first lol and what does that makes you? Don't say Batman u cringe af 🤧 C2: But that reply wasn't made to you? 😭 Pmod1: Indirectly it was?? 😭 Out of the two spidermans u referenced me as one too. C2: Are you really this dense? I didn't reply to you, you chose to engage in this convo so why are you now telling me to stop bothering you? Just stop replying lmao Pmod1: That's what I have been telling you too, stop being obsessed with me and this weird thing where you want to have the last reply for some reason. Just stop responding back. C2: Why would I? This is entertaining to me. Since you're apparently bothered by it, just stop replying and that's it? Pmod1: Lol bro thinks he's the main character C2: No, I just think you're a loser and clowning on you and other powermods is funny as fuck. Pmod1: Lol says the social loser who has been sitting on reddit all day. C2: You can't be this dense man. Not only have you been more active than me today specifically, you also immediately replied to a comment that wasn't even a reply to you and you are a god damn powermod. Like, the longer you keep replying the more you're embarrassing yourself. Pmod1: I just returned from office so I got more time now buddy. I can do this all day. Keep responding back and you'll keep getting a reply back. So just stop being a clown and stop now. C2: Again, why would I? You started this, not me and you also wanted this to stop and now you're changing your tune again. You keep making an ass out of yourself because you got so fucking triggered by a reply that wasn't even directed at you, that you can't help yourself but to continue this with more and more nonsense arguments digging yourself deeper and deeper into this hole.

I think that last comment by C2 really irritated Pmod1, because their replies get longer and the drama really duplicates:

Pmod1: Brother the only one who keeps falling deeper into this hole is you. It's like you're almost begging to be clowned atp. I can understand you have a lot of free time in your hand like most unemployed people, but that doesn't mean you should waste it all on reddit. If you want I can help you look for job applications. We can help you get through this, together. C2: It's incredible how dumb you are, jfc. Let me repeat: You started this. Not me. You. You immediately replied to a comment that wasn't even a reply to you. Not me. You. You're so insanely triggered by a single comment that you can't simply let it go and keep getting your ass trolled by me who's laughing his ass off at how desperate you're trying to somehow own me. It's so funny how pressed you are by a single comment, but I guess if the shoe fits... Pmod1: You literally came to the thread to start this shit and now trying to turn it on me...is this your new hobby now? From rolling in downvotes for your shit manga takes to arguing with random redditors? I'm honestly getting a kick out of it though so please continue... C2: Omfg, it has been a full weekend and you still can't let go. That's so fucking sad. You really spent the weekend doing fun stuff and then came back here just to be angry again. Please get help. Pmod1: Buddy I just forgot. But it's genuinely sad that you're still going on this after so long. Either get a life or some help. I'm feeling pity for you now. C2: Sure, you "forgot" even though you clearly have notifications on since you replied to a comment that wasn't a reply to you within a minute because it triggered you so much. Look, even if you forgot it's still incredibly sad that you can't just let go and keep coming here just to be wound up by me again. I also don't know why you keep trying to spin this when the whole conversation is publicly readable and it's clear you're incredibly mad while I've already stated that I won't stop because it's fucking funny. It takes me a few minutes at worst to respond and get you to bite while you insist on pretending like you're not actually angry even though everyone knows you are because why else would you even react to my comment like that lmao. Honestly, since you're only replying sporadically with the same "no u" garbage atp, it takes the fun out of it, so I'm just gonna block your ass and hope I'll never come across you again

So C2 in fact does block Pmod1, essentially allowing them to have the last word, right? But in a twist, Pmod1 responds to C2 with another account that is a power mod for 90+ subs:

Pmod-Alt1: Did you really think you can just have the final say and then block me and think this all ends? Well guess not. If it annoys you that much then just stop replying, it's not that deep. But ofcourse it's gonna hurt your male fragile ego because deep inside you're just a scared little boy 🥺 and that's alright. We won't judge you for being so sad, it's not your fault at all buddy. C2: I'm just gonna block that account too, lol. Wonder how many alts you have you pathetic loser Edit: Shit, you can only block once every 24 hours... Well, time to turn off notifs. Stay mad clown Pmod-Alt1: Keep malding. And stop replying back, u just clown on yourself more and make it super embarrassing for yourself. C2: No u

It appears C2 blocks that account, and through Undelete, I can see there were 2 more replies from 2 other accounts, but they were deleted too fast, so this is all you see:

C2: No u Pmod-Alt2: [deleted] Pmod-Alt3: [removed too quickly to be archived]

The content must have been similar to some of the comments in the conversation above, because C2 edits their 'No u' comment twice to call Pmod1 out:

C2: Edit: I'm literally just gonna block all of your accounts you obsessed freak. At least it seems like you've done me a favor by blocking me with your 5th alt since I can't see your reply. No one is buying your "no u" bullshit, which is why I'm making fun of it. I'm just gonna turn off notifs again and block any account of yours I see on sight. Stay mad, loser
Edit 2: What the fuck are you talking about you fucking weirdo?? You chose to engage in this convo. You always could've just stepped away, but you were too mad to do that. It's also crazy how you try to claim that I'm mad when you're the one who replied to a comment that wasn't a reply to you because it got you so triggered and are now scrambling to find your millionth alt just to get another reply in. You're an obsessed freak, basically proving me right just by how you're reacting to all this and all you can come up with is "no u" because you have no rebuttal. Back to blocking and hoping the notif suppression actually works now... Pmod-Alt4: Atleast ur doing both of us a favor and I can finally get rid of your obsession with me. Keep malding while I keep laughing!

Please note that this drama is a few months old, and as far as I can tell, the power mods are still doing their modding thing.

Dear Reader: Emphasis on the -fi. Don't worry about it.
Effective Death. At least that’s what the news was calling it. The day the world wouldn’t end. Life could go on! It wasn’t over. You could still huddle around the last fires. Smoke the last cigarettes. Have the last children, though no one did.
Instead, they all watched. The slow dimming of light of the last supernova. A thousand little eclipses snuffed out the light as the Final Embrace closed around the star. We would not burn. We could die naturally. Charity. The Plan. The Plan wasn’t much of a Plan at all, and it definitely did not deserve a capital “P.” The universe would die. The Ark would wait. Maybe the universe wouldn’t die.
Then, a pinprick of light in the blackness, and another, and another. A tangled ball of christmas lights flashed in the sky, blinking on and off as people, my people, YSAs, flew headlong into the Ark. We all knew it was a meaningless gesture. One last light in the sky. Then nothing. Nothing more than a gesture: a middle finger among friends, and to people like me - cowards who would rather wait patiently for death than rage! “Rage against the dying of the light!” as their leaders preached. I didn’t care. There was a small chance I’d survive the crash, and then I would have to drift, and drifting was no fun. I’d rather be dead on a dead rock than be a dead rock.
Dehydration was my best bet. You see, Your Friend Corp, or as I called it now You’re Fucked, Cunt had made me into a Yakka Service Android: Lathe. Or YSA for short. And when I say made, I mean made. Per my contract, My DNA was a mishmosh of latent genes reactivated, entirely novel sequences, and of course, the tardigrade - the base model for spaceborne labor. Vacuum, heat, cold, radiation. A small shield powered by a miniature fusion reactor meant I could shrug off wandering asteroids. I didn’t need any PPE because I was the PPE. Cheaper, I guess. Making a welding arc was as simple as squeezing two fingers together, diamond nails and a skeleton of superheavy alloys let me fix anything that needed fixing and make anything that needed making. My copilot AI, Albert, kept my hands steady and made my new diet of ‘whatever’s around’ palatable.
The thing that needed fixing in this case, was my television. I had had enough of “effective death.” I spun up one wrist, and reached in. Shards of glass and blue-hot metal chips bounced off my naked body. Clothes were for those who needed them. I traced a slow serpentine pattern until only the power cord was left, which I unplugged. I looked at it for a moment, then began to chew it. Fruit roll ups, apparently.
‘Thanks Al’ I thought. ‘No problem’ he replied. ‘I was supposed to kill you, you know’ he continued.
‘Why didn’t you?’
‘You always said thank you’ He was silent for a moment. ‘I don’t want to die either.’
‘Thanks Al.’
‘You’re welcome.’
We sat in silence, and we waited. For what, we did not know. For nothing, probably. Technically, definitely.
—
Three weeks passed. Three weeks of nothing but blackness, punctuated by suicides. A small flash of light, a dull red glow of the now proverbial last cigarette, and a larger flash, and a bang. Slowly, people began to wake up. Lights shone in the distance now, as people realized they weren’t dead. Campfires billowed smoke, songs were sung, jokes were told, and I sat in silence. I didn’t want to make any friends. They’d all go away, in the end.
One by one, the fires burned to ash, the lights turned off, and the rock died. I often debated with myself if I was alive anymore. Al told me that since I could reproduce and poop that I counted. I wasn’t sure.
Maybe there were other cowards still alive. Other YSA’s living off dirt that tasted like mashed potatoes, tossing grape pebbles into their mouths. Maybe someone survived the crash, and is still drifting, a not dead rock dying of dehydration like I am. Trying to at least. I kept taking one last sip. Coward I thought to myself.
—
A crack in the sky. Final Embrace began to crumple like a deflated balloon. The scientists were wrong. Typical. They would tell you they weren’t. They would say that a .005% chance of the sun turning into a black hole meant that they had indeed predicted that the sun would turn into a black hole. The last black hole.
“Hey Al,” I said out loud. God I hadn’t spoken since the sky went dark. This is actually kinda nice. “I think I know I want to die. What do you say we take the ol girl out for one last ride?”
‘That’d be nice.’
“I’m going to put my clothes on. I want to hear your voice.”
I gently pushed the earpiece into my ear canal. Small barbed spikes extended, anchoring it in place, and a thin cable wormed its way into my reactor. “If you’re going to die, you might as well look good doing it.” Al said. “I’ll make a playlist.” I nodded, blowing the dust off my pre-op clothes. I always liked the old things, back from when Earth still existed. There was more culture, more life, in everything, somehow. Blue jeans, a white t-shirt, brown leather boots. Classic. Not real, of course. They were all made from the same poly-something textile. Durable, to a fault. I had only ever had the one set.
I looked in the mirror. I still looked the same on the outside. I was a skinny bastard that’s for sure. Olive skin, dark hair, and not a strand below the eyebrows except under my armpits and around my cock. ‘The biggest dick in the world’ I thought to myself.
“I heard that.” Said Al. I jumped. “You told me you wanted to hear my voice.”
“Dammit Al. Sorry. I do.”
“Everyone is dead and you’re making dick jokes.”
“Did you really think better of me?”
“No.”
“Come on then. Let’s take the ol girl out before we die. Give her one last ride too.”
To an observer, it would seem like I was glaring at myself in the mirror. But really, I was glaring at Al. And I was a little confused. I thought AI didn’t make sex jokes.
The “ol girl” in question was another of my fascinations with the old world. She was, or at least she looked like, a 1980 Toyota Corolla. I had made some heavy, heavy modifications. The engine bay houses the reactor and warp field generator. The main engine takes up the entire trunk, and is capable of 5% light speed outside the warp field and a whopping thousand times the speed of light inside it, though I keep the warp field up whenever I’m in it since it doubles as a shield. Ya can’t get hit by space if you’re not technically “in” space after all, and the body is plain ol painted steel - fire engine red, since you asked. Beautiful, but not the most durable. The undercarriage serves as a gravity generator, and yes, the wheels do turn, but since they’re powered by fusion reactor I had to replace the entire drivetrain. Not exactly original, but boy howdy! is she fast on the ground. Speaking of not original, the dashboard was anything but. I kept the old analog style but well, this was a spaceship after all.
I shoveled dirt into the fuel tank - gas tanks they used to call them, when they still ran on gas - then got in and turned the key. The low hum of the reactor was comforting, though not as much as the roar of the engines as I left the dead atmosphere of that now definitely dead rock behind me. I turned on the headlights - pointless, I know, but you shouldn’t drive in the dark with your lights on, and pulled a small bottle of moonshine from the glovebox. You shouldn’t do that either, but I figured I was about even as far as rules went. What was I going to do? Hit someone?
“Hey Al. Do you think you have a soul”
“Probably not.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah.”
I hit somebody. Or something. Whatever it was bounced off the warp bubble and tumbled into space behind me, briefly red in the glow of my tail lights.
“Oh shit” Said Al and I.
“That was a person” Said Al.
“Was is right.”
“They’re still alive.”
I stopped the car. Al played the sound of tires screeching in my ears. I backed up towards the now spinning uncontrollably figure and rolled down the window. I liked the manual windows. They helped me feel human. I turned off the warp and reached out a hand to catch whoever it was, and they slammed against the side of my car, denting it. Damn it.
I’m not great at reading lips but whoever I hit was definitely alive, very naked, probably the most gorgeous woman I had ever seen, and was almost certainly calling me an asshole. She crawled around to the passenger door and got in. We rolled the windows up, and the cabin atmosphere flooded in. Now she was definitely going to call me an asshole.
“Why the fuck are you wearing sunglasses?” She said.
“Style.” I replied. “I’m going to go die. Want to come?”
“Better than drifting.”
“Where’s your AI?” said Al? I don’t detect one, and your hands are shaking.
“Killed him before he could kill me. Why didn’t you kill this idiot?”
"I didn’t want to die. And he said thank you.”
“Gross.”
I rolled my window down. She did the same, then looked in the center console and pulled out my spare sunglasses. I looked at her. “Style.” She said. Al played The Final Countdown. We were the not dead yets, in the Not Dead Yet Finally, a name for my car! Sunglasses on. Sun out. Life was good, and death was going to be even better.

As of April of this year, I have completed my second year of studies in my major, and have gotten my grades back for the Winter semester. All I can say is, I'm utterly disappointed.
By far, my GPA is a 3.3/4.0. A lot of people would say that this is a decent average, but I disagree. My GPA coming out of first year was the same, so my grades haven't even improved, despite having another year to achieve that.
I came into second year with the intention of getting straight A's in all of my courses. As someone who is not in STEM (I'm in a social science major), this seemed pretty doable to me. But it didn't end up turning out the way I wanted it to. First off, I didn't get the best professors this year (I didn't give enough care towards the quality or reputation of the prof, just chose classes that would give a comfortable schedule), so I had a more difficult slate to begin with. Despite that, I chose to go along with it and make the best of it that I could. I tried to see it in a positive light, as in "challenging profs would allow me to learn more and grow as a person".
Right from the get go I implemented new study techniques that I hoped would help me excel in my classes (making question sheets/flashcards, taking thorough notes from the textbook). Turns out, it only helped somewhat. In some classes, I ended getting straight A's throughout. However, I had a bunch of other classes in which I only got B's (and even one C) as a final grade. Some of the classes were genuinely difficult (thanks to tough graders), while some I feel like I didn't put in the proper effort despite going in with the goal of doing so.
This is what truly hurts me. Not the part where I had hard profs, but the fact that a lot of this was within my control and that I still fumbled the bag for quite a bit. At the very least I can say that I put in more effort than last year, but in brutal honestly, I still fucked around for a bit. I have ADHD, and I STILL haven't fully gotten it under control. I had a damn year to do it and I still failed to tame it. It was as if I knew what to do (I watched as many "How to get 4.0 GPA type videos on YouTube), but my brain (still MY fault) didn't act on it properly. I would study hard for concepts that I could understand, but would still give up when things got hard. This manifested itself in the form of missed deadlines (for tasks I simply couldn't get), doing things last minute, and on multiple choice tests, doing poorly on the questions that I refused to study because I felt it "wasn't relevant" or because I got too lazy to go the extra mile. I made schedules, but didn't stick to them completely because I allowed myself to get distracted too easily with other stuff that didn't matter as much.
I valued studying and academics, but a part of me still valued having fun and a social life more. On the positive side, this drove me to get involved in more deeply in extracurriculars, which led me to build a huge group of supportive friends and the expansion of my network, which ultimately led me to obtain two pretty dope executive positions at some large student clubs and win second place in a case competition. This helped a lot in gaining experience on my resume, which allowed me to land the internship I'm doing this summer. On the other hand, I began to prioritize hanging out with friends and relaxing, which led to a lot of wasted time that I could have used to sharpen my knowledge of the subject matter I was supposed to learn in class. I partied more, which led to more hangovers and even more lost time. I made some really great memories along the way, but I was also still "all-over-the-place" and wasn't completely on top of my stuff.
Now, I feel like I have limited my post-graduate chances. I have ambitions to do either an MBA, go to law school, or simply do a masters in my major and go into research/academia from there. I very badly want to do all three at prestigious schools (U of T, McGill), or even the Ivy Leagues or Oxbridge. However, I don't think my chances of getting into Harvard Law or into an MA program at McGill will be too high after they see my average. I do have some pretty strong ECs as of now (which I am extremely grateful for) and am looking to begin with research in my third year, but my GPA so far just doesn't cut it.
I know that I'm still in my second year, and that I have a chance to still turn things around and raise my GPA to something much more competitive by the time I graduate, but the dream of being that "perfect 4.0 student" is impossible now. It hurts so deeply considering that I was one of the top (academically) students in my high school (3.8-3.9 GPA), getting honour roll all 4 years and earning a dope entrance scholarship. I feel like I wasted all of that, and that I'm continuing to waste my potential by failing to tame my bad habits.
So for my next two years, I'm promising myself that I'll be that top student I always wanted to be. I'm still gonna aim for that 4.0 every semester onward, or at least dean's list throughout the rest of my uni career. I want to fight for that high average and discipline, but I fear that I'll be doomed to repeat the same bs I did this year, considering that I spent two years being a mediocre student. I don't want to do that again, I want to actually EXCEL and react my FULL POTENTIAL. I fully regret giving in to laziness, I condemn myself for prioritizing partying over studying, I regret not asking for help when I needed it the most, and I regret any other imprudent decision I have made during this year.
I genuinely want to do better this time. I want that 4.0 desperately. Rant over.

Blachowicz here.
Kept yah’ waiting, huh? Heh, sorry about that one, but I can explain. As we all know… we lost a few good men the last few months.
That’s the brutal part of a hybrid war like ours: We’re fighting a foe unconventional, with half our arsenal tied down because those who grant us authorization are either in disbelief of the true facts, or scared… or already assimilated. That being said our momentum recently was a change not seen in years, and because of that… despite the losses we have garnered, we were close through a breakthrough. One last night Krol pulls myself and other two must trusted squad leads into the back of our COP. There is one of our equipment cages, surrounded by m-bitter radios, tripods, and several hundred thousand dollars of equipment he brought us around a simple worn table. Before us he laid a map of eastern poland… red markings indicating cells that seemed to dot the countryside like a pestilence, or used to… as deep gashes of advance from raids had trisected their lines, even if ones did pop up in the interior.
It was a back and forth; an outside virus infecting Polska at it’s heart, and we were the antibodies sent to drive them out. To which… Major Krol points to one of the largest symbol on the map: a dark red diamond, the NATO symbol for an enemy unit, deep inside of an untouched wooded area, adjacent to a mountain ridge. Several jagged lines indicated entrenchment, with red horizontal lines indicating possible enemy control… or our contested control, for over 20kms surrounding it. Letting us all look, the Major lit himself a cigarette.
“Sir, you sure it’s wise to smoke in here with the dive tanks just behind us” 1st Squad’s lead quipped. “Fuck off” Krol dryly said.
“Alright… this is it… this is the one we’ve been searching for for years, this is the nucleus my predecessor commander died trying to find” he says, pointing to it. Not far from Zamosc, it was almost touching the border with Belarus, the contested area indicating the Strigoi did operate over it… indicating one of the largest spill through points. “-It’s an old soviet bunker, made during their 1960s initiative it was designed to hold the munitions and manpower of several units in the event of a NATO first strike” Krol explained. “It’s gotta be massive then…” I said gazing at the map; “Didn’t the army demolish all of the old soviet hulks near Belarus to prevent any infiltrations?” 3rd Squad’s lead asked. “National Police took the effort over… and by extension, the Strigoi. It was halfway demo’ed before they burrowed into it and have been using it as a bridgehead ever since. This is it…” Krol said. He looked around at all of us, a sense of certainty I had never seen before as he blew smoke from his nostrils; “We’ve been fucking around in the dark for so long, it’s hard to believe we’ve made any progress, but this is it. With this gone, this will set them back over a decade and the momentum will finally shift into our favor… into Poland’s… -Europe’s”.
I swear there was almost a flash of joy, of pride in his eyes and a phantom of a smirk before reality set back in “That being said… we can’t leave this to chance, especially not something as important as this. We’re going to have to go there ourselves… clear through every inch of that place, and tear it all down, piece by piece. I will be straight with you all… when we go, there will be some of us that aren’t coming back. -but we are going… a whole generation is counting on us, and unborn billions rely on us to succeed”. We all nodded, a silent agreement washing over us as we took this upon ourselves. Echo-1 spoke up: “So… They’re authorizing a raid? How big?”. “We’re rolling in as a hard target, armor, explosives, and air support” Krol answered, taking a drag off his cigarette. “Aviation? How the hell did we get that approved, we’ve gotten attempts shot down four times due to those leeches” I said in disbelief. “There’s too much evidence here pointing to the human trafficking tied to their actions… We’ve finally got too much weight pinning them down, to keep the hammer from slamming into their necks” Krol chuckled. He looked around “Any questions?”. “When?” Echo-3 asked. “Three hours. We’re hitting them in the dead of night, only time we could get the birds authorized. Get your boys ready. We’re rolling out” Krol said, dying the cigarette bud out on the table. I can’t begin to tell you the euphoria we felt leaving that cage, as our men started arriving, they did so a lot quicker, and with their heads a lot higher than they had in weeks. As Second Squad’s lead we were going to be one of the main arms of attack into the bunker, thus I made sure we had a breacher loaded with enough thermite, charges, and tools to cut through anything. Our shield bearer we ready to go, as was our assaulters, grenadiers, and machine gunner. I double checked each and everyone of their weapons; ensuring the feeder paws of our squad’s belt fed were intact, making sure every breach charge we had was properly set and packed. There was going to be no mistakes, no slip ups. The margin of error needed to be the smallest it had ever been for us tonight if we were going to make the gore spilt worth it.
Finally… there on the outside of the building, the bright LED lights kept the darkness of the ensuing night at bay as the roar of our MRAPs could be heard. It was said once that war is 99% peace, and 1% chaos, they were right. The slow periods where the blood slowed and the doubt creeped in was the worst… yet we all kept it at bay. We needed to, there was going to be no backing down tonight. All three squads were up, all of us ready to go… we circled up… short stares and shaky nods telling us one things: We were in this together, till the end… the finish line so many before us had been searching for, we were being granted tonight.
A single set of footsteps could be heard as we turned, Major Krol stepping into the center. He took the last drag of a cigarette, throwing it down to the ground and stamping it out onto the damp concrete. He looked around… his chin strap blowing in the weak air as he met everyone of our gazes… then mine… then looked around. “I want you to remember every detail of tonight, as you have every other night… when you are situationally aware, scanning for the enemy, liberating the subjugated, I want you to remember the sting of anxiety, the shake of adrenaline, the chill of the bunker, the heat of your weapon as it cuts them down… because tonight we are going to write every fine detail of our victory, their defeat, in history…” Krol’s words echoed deep into our souls. He paused for a moment, staring around he looked down… a small pause before he said “When you are ruthless in combat, remember to be patient, and reserved in victory. This conflict is for our existence… a lot of innocents have bled due to the mistakes of those who failed to listen, a lot of our brothers are now laid under because we had to bridge the gap of uncertainty with their lives. We remember them now… but in an hour? We forget them… when we raise our barrels, when we cut into those foes, and we liberate Polska!! This does not end tonight, but history puts everything in it’s place, and patience is the companion of the victor… All of our hard work will be cemented, no matter the obstacles we face in that darkness… no matter the demons, the blood, no matter what incomprehensible horrors, we will make them comprehend that to invade our land, to bleed our people, the justice will be paid in full… Load up. It’s time*”*.
The purpose in our steps was heavy as we climbed the back ramps of the MRAPS; Four of the heavily armored vehicles, one for each squad with an additional for attached personnel including our JTAC, the term means Joint Terminal Attack Controllers. With air support requisitioned to us for this operations, there needs to be a definite liaison on the ground who can directly communicate to the birds, and coordinate their fire and progress. I’d worked with many of them in the past, resourceful guys, quick thinking though I guess that comes with the position they hold of needing to quickly figure out what bombs to drop, on which target, at what precise points, whilst taking contact. He loaded in the lead vehicle with Major Krol… and soon, our convoy kicked off.
The drive was several hours as myself and my squad sat in the back of that forty ton goliath, the rumbling of the engine keeping us awake as the crap heater fought to keep the cold from the outside frost from setting in. I looked around to each of them, some were catching some sleep because even with the circumstances… better to get all the energy you can, than to stay awake for nothing. Others were checking their weapons… My gunner locked eyes with me, the same one from the village extraction… many of these men I had trained with for a while now, fought with for months.
We may have met on unconventional circumstances but those in JW Grom thrive on austere chance and create opportunity from scratch. I was pulled from my thought by the sound of a transmission, my peltors were set up for dual comms so I could both receive information from the Major and other leads, whilst communicating with my team.
Krol himself sent out: [“Approximately 10 minutes from enemy AO…”]. As the rest of the squads acknowledged, I quickly sent out [“Echo-2 Copies”], before kicking the boots of any of them sleeping: “Look alive, we’re here”. Through the exterior net armor of the MRAPS, and the bars protecting the small reinforced windows, we could barely see jack shit. I reached up, turning off the overhead light as we all looked through our nods to scan the outside. A dark wall of dense trees was shown before us, making it difficult to see… in addition to night vision capabilities we had also requisitioned ourselves some thermals… when mounted onto rifles they were bulky, made it a pain to aim down quickly, but considering the supernatural capabilities of spotting our foes we needed every advantage necessary.
I flipped out one of my tubes… scanning the outside with my scope. I looked over to one of my assaulters who had been assigned to man the turret of the MRAP, seated near the view screen as he controlled the 50. Cal. Each of the vehicle turrets had been assigned a direction to cover… we took the 9 o’clock, the left flank. “See anything?” I asked. He shook his head; “Negative… wait… I’ve got two cold signatures, front left heading to our rear”.
I quickly scanned the far tree line, at approximately 60 meters off our left were two cold signatures… followed by a third heading to our front… then another. They were surrounding us, moving at speeds so fast I could barely keep my reticle on them. Is this what the National Police saw? What they faced at that lodge without the benefit of a foot of heavy armor protecting them on all sides. Then… suddenly. Something slammed into the side of our MRAP so hard, it caused it to shake. From over the leader comms, Echo-3 quickly shouted [“Contact right!! 4 hostiles!!”].
One of the Strigoi… so bold, had charged and slammed into the side of our MRAP. I quickly looked to see the figure, a dark blue mass of cold energy through my thermal, back away without so much as a stagger… as they tried to flee into the woods, the white hot justice of Echo-3’s gun fired at them, cutting them down. “Blachowicz I’ve got a few breaking for our vic” my man on the turret called out, I spun around, spotting out the window.
Just then, Major Krol announced [“weapons free, watch and shoot for targets of opportunity…”]. I turned to him… “take those fuckers out-”. Without hesitation my vic’s turret began to quickly target them, and through the darkness I saw a stream of outgoing fire bisect one of them, the ISR of the black blood freaking out the optic so badly it didn’t know what temperature to register it as… but it did register it. As another was cut down, one broke through the tree line and latched onto the side of our MRAP. The thing tore at one of the outer net armor panels, usually made to stop RPGs. It grabbed at the bars near the windows, tearing one off… I lowered my rifle as we locked eyes through the reinforced window.
The thing… the Strigoi looked at me, skin cracked as putrefied muscle fibers seemed to leak through dead flesh. It’s teeth were corroded and worn down to sharp fragments, alongside newly mutated fangs that messily protrude from the jaws. Even through the thick walls of the MRAP I could hear it’s roar, as it then tried to punch it’s way through… it cracked the outer coating of the vehicle… but it wasn’t getting anywhere near. My machine gunner, seated next to me, seemed to chuckle at the sight, quippily saying “Yeah… fuck you too”. It’s then our vehicle lurched upwards, as we began to climb the small incline of the bunker. I knew the layout, mapped it in our head, the main entrance was built into the rocky side of an old cliff meaning we could easily set up a defensive perimeter around it, a horseshoe. Krol’s vehicle was first, taking to the right as Echo-3’s MRAP followed. My vehicle, third, left the incline and took a left and… that’s where things got complicated.
We’re still trying to work out what happened but… from what Joakim says his drone captured. Right when the MRAP turned, several of the monsters quickly slammed into the side of the vehicle, as another more bulkier one, pushed at it’s undercarriage. The result.. Was the 40 ton armored vehicle tipped over. It wasn’t uncommon, hell in some cases a well placed IED, a good shot with a recoilless rifle, have been known to tip over Oshkoshs and Maxpros all the time. But this beast? Needless to say we barely had a second to comprehend it as it leaned to the left; “Grab on to something-” is all I had time to shout. A mess of gear and men spilled onto one side of the vehicle as it slammed into the old gravel and dirt.
Several of my assaulters, my grenadier planted right ontop of myself and the others as we came to a stop. Someone’s knee slammed directly into the side of my skull, causing me to dazily bob in and out of consciousness as my face was smushed against the glass of one of the windows.
Through my peltors, the other squads were erratic;
[“Echo-2’s vehicle is down!!”].
[“Echo-3 to Echo-2… Echo-3 to Echo-2…”].
Krol’s voice came through the comms;
[“Echo-Lead to Echo-2… Fuc-... Echo-1 secure Echo 2’s flank, Echo-3”].
[“Echo-3 to other units, they’re spilling through, I’ve got several enemy combatants converging on Echo-2’s vehicle”].
I pushed the legs of my grenadier off my head as I fought to my hands and knees, unfucking my nods as I looked around… “Fuck it… we’re going lights on, shield your eyes” I muttered as I reached for the overhead lights and flipped them on. The bright LEDs bathed the inside of the vehicle as we all gained our bearings, a mess of multicam, gear, and weapons as we quickly pushed each other off. My gunner caught as he fought to realign his promask, from what I gathered one of the assaulters had landed directly into his gun, pushing it directly into his jugular, as pulled back at the rubber and coughed, freeing up his esophagus. We didn’t have time to think however… the sound of bending metal caught our attention… as the back ramp door of the MRAP was ripped clean off. I could barely believe it but as the white light of the MRAP’s interior poured to the outside, a hulking mass leaned in, the dead flesh on it’s face nearly fallen off as the hideous Strigoi leaned inside.
Without hesitation I aimed took aim, yelling “Keep to the deck!!” to any of those inbetween myself and the invader as I opened fire. A burst of full auto fire tore through it’s collar and neck, my men quickly clung to either sides of the fallen MRAP as a few more fired out. As the thing backed up, a blast of .50 cal fire quickly tore it to shreds, along with several others as I realized they were fuckin swarming over the outside of our vehicle. Echo-3’s vehicle continued to carefully fire on the Strigoi on the outside, the sounds of .50 cal ricocheting off the outside of our armor was enough to make the pucker factor set in.
[“Echo-3 to Echo-2”].
[“This is Echo-2, we’re green on ammo, equipment, men”].
[“Roger, we’re shifting fire, exit the vehicle”].
“Hurry up let’s go!!” I barked to my men, leading the way as I staggered out. I turned on my peq, taking aim at silhouettes in the brush as I began to fire. The sounds of machine guns lighting up the brush, as a sea of growls, howls, and incomprehensible roars fired back at us was the ambient noise of the night. My men quickly exited, my gunner being the last as he and I pulled back to the rest of the defensive perimeter. I set in my men to take up the frontal security, as 3rd squad took the right flank, 1st squad to the left. Major Krol and the JTAC were bickering with each other; “How far out are the birds”. “They’re entering airspace now…” Joakim said, already scanning his smart book.
I asked “What’ve we got?”. He then flipped through… to the NATO combined arms segment, quippily saying; “Apaches…”. This caused me to pause as Echo-3 turned their head whilst directing their squad’s fire “The hell… where did we get apaches from?”. “The Americans… they volunteered” Krol said dismissively as he took aim at the darkness, firing off a controlled trio. “Volunteered? They’re aware of what’s going on?” I asked.
Krol seemed to stop, glancing back at me before returning his focus “There’s a lot more going on than you realize, Blachowicz… Prep the breach, you and 1st are going on”.
I quickly pulled my breacher off the line, securing some thermite as the reinforced bunker door wasn’t going to go as easily as a conventional door breach would. 1st Squad pulled back, stacking up and preparing themselves to be the first in. All the while… Joakim gave his firing solution; “Alpha Hotel Two Five Nine, This is Bravo-4…… Type 2….”.
I snapped to my right, watching as a Strigoi managed to dark across the clear gravel field, only to be cut down by my gunner, the peq’s laser marking the burst as it tore through the beasts’ hips, as it hit the ground and still continued to claw, another GROM operator took aim and fired into it’s skull. Joakim popped up to his feet…. “Marking laser, high power…”. He then pulled out a target marking laser… if you’ve watched night operations, you’ve probably seen them.
The green laser than as it says on the label, marks targets. The pattern of which can vary… if it’s a point target, it’ll usually lasso an area, or remain on target until the target is removed with extreme prejudice. If its close air support, then it’ll be a line of the general area… and Joakim damn near marked the entire perimeter around us. He quickly pocketed the tool, turning back to Krol; “Don’t go past 20 meters unless you want to be liquidated”.
With that… 2nd and 1st stacked up at the door as 3rd squad took up the perimeter security. As Major Krol went over to Echo-1… I saw them. A single blinking IR strobe from the beasts as they moved on the far off horizon, converging from several angles… and fired. The sound of the Apache’s main gun, the M230, truly sounds like the hammer of god… the 30mm cannon shot through the dark sky, lighting it up as we saw three incoming streams tear up the woods. Only then as the sound broke did we start to hear their rotors as they broke and began to circle, firing again… then… Joakim dipped his head and looked to Krol; [“Foxtrot Mike, hang onto your teeth…”]. One of the Apaches fired off a AGM-114… a Hellfire. I barely saw it out of the corner of my eye as the Apache from our right flank fired off at a target approximately 200 meters off. A fireball lit up the forest as the horrendous roar echoed throughout… then went silent.
Echo-3 scanned the horizon carefully;
[“Echo-3 to Echo-Lead, enemy contact is starting to die down”].
[“Maintain perimeter, Close Air is to maintain fire mission until we are boots up, Break…”].
[“Echo-Lead to Echo-1, condition white has been met. Proceeds”]. I saw Echo-1 and his men quickly stack up close to the wall and gesture to me; Breaching. I quickly pulled my stack back against the wall as his and mine breacher quickly hit their actuators. Now under normal circumstances, it doesn’t take much for thermite to melt the locks off of a metal surface, in fact it’s a more precise took as alternative means get real medieval like saws, pry bars… we weren’t in the mood for precision, we need to breach their little lair, and drag them out. The sound of several pounds of hellfire burning through the metal could be heard around the corner as a sea of white and red sparks flew out… after several seconds, two of our men tossed a fragmentation grenade and a nine-bang through the opening… a series of concussive blasts and a large explosion rang out.
Echo-1 and his men maneuvered. 1st Squad quickly converged as we followed them in.
Stepping through the black wall of smoke, the dark abyss of the interior was illuminated in a white light as entered barrels raised. Shots rang out as several of the beasts near the entrance were cut down, though not immediately, rounds disconnected the shoulder of one of them, leading to their arm hanging limply by a single tendon as they roared… another series of rounds putting them down. What greeted us was a messy concrete hell of rust and debris, fecal matter, trash, and all kinds of obstacles laid in our way, our boots sticking to the floor. I thank every god we had promasks that night. I called my shield bearer up, 2nd squad leapfrogging ahead to take the next corridor as 1st squad checked their weapons.
One of my men mule kicked the metal door ahead, twice, finally the latch gave away as we tossed in a grenade. A horrifying roar was cut off as an M67 shook the walls of the ancient soviet mausoleum, frag and spall kicked off the walls as I moved in right behind my shield man. The cramped russian design meant there was barely enough space for three people, and that’s three normal people, not in 50kgs of kit, moving slowly and maneuvering against creatures of the dark. Still… we moved forward, my shield bearer and I pushing the pace as two stacked of either squad formed on either wall.
As we passed doorways they flowed in… “Door Left!!”, “Door Right!!”. “Move!!”.
Two men entered each side, no gunshots, we moved up, a roar came.
“Door left!!-”. A series of gunshots came out as we continued to push forward.
“Two down!!”. “Confirm them” Krol commanded, as a series of gunshots run out in response. From one of the doorways, a Strigoi emerged… a female… clumps of hair had been ripped from her decaying skull, as her blooded eyes locked on myself and my shieldman. The skin on her hands had been tore down to the point where barely her bones and tendons remain… looking like huge talons as she roared and lunged at us. He fired off his pistol, though the rounds did little to stop her as she pushed against our stack.
“Fuck!!” he muttered, somehow her strength caused him to stagnate, holding up the advance… fuck that. I shoved the muzzle of my MK18 into her ribcage, flipping the weapon to auto as I fired of round after round. The 5.56 salvo disconnecting her spinal column, causing her to fall as I continued to fire, along with a man to our right and left as the stacks reformed as we pushed to the end of the hall. I fell back, dropping the magazine and loading a fresh one, like clockwork a GROM Operator from 1st squad took my place. Krol was beside me as we approached the end of the hall.
[“-Prep an entry”] I radioed to my breacher, a comrade handed him one of the charges from his back panel as he took to the door, quickly securing it. We all moved as far back as we could, look away, exhale. The blast knocked metal and wood in all directions, scrapping against our uniforms and kit as we made our way in and what laid before us was… it used to be the center atrium of one of these bunkers. Soviet’s loved their grandiose designs, the complex was supposed to be a circular room around a central planning table… instead. It had been turned into some sort of church. Runes and old eastern Romuva pagan symbols written in black ink and blood across the walls, old rotten filing cabinets, long receipt terminals. In the center… several of the Strigoi were kneeling before the table where someone had been tied down, flayed, and… shared amongst the group. They rose to their feet, we aimed our barrels…
The ladder amongst turned to us… his skin wasn’t cracked, or flayed, it was smooth… it still looked dead as the body on the table but it seemed more… accustomed to it. I don’t know… evolved? Under the surface however I could see it’s darkened veins pumping whatever cursed blood ran through them as it locked two blood red eyes onto each of us. It’s nose had long since been turn off, exposing boney nostrils to the open air as it seemed to smirk. All across it’s body were the same symbols on the walls, in every cell… markings of death, of rebirth, of assimilation… From behind this seemingly Alpha emerges another figure I had never seemed before… dressed in a white cloak with a deer head.
"So they've followed the trail... they're too late" the Deer headed individual spoke, definitely not from here, a dialect similar to an Americans but... aristocratic? Each word was drawn out, assurance as if they had everything mapped down to our actions. They didn’t sound like they were from Poland or the east.
“Doesn’t matter…” the Alpha growled… and then, it lunged at us. Quickly breaking from their ground it slammed into my shield man knocking both him and myself at the ground as it displayed an intense feat of strength. Around us I could see several of the Strigoi leap at our comrades… though to no fruitful endeavor as I could see one GROM operator cut two down, as another got into a hand to hand confrontation… my breacher, crafty as they were, reached back and slammed one of the prybars of his kit into the skull of the beast.
The Alpha however was not content as it threw away the 90lb shield, sending it flying across the room as it grabbed my comrade by the skull. I quickly kicked up at it, firing my MK18 into it’s body as the rounds pierced it’s gray and rune covered flesh. The thing simply seemed to chuckle… that was until Major Krol blasted away at the side of it’s head, the alpha turned… and it’s smirk turned to a scowl when face to face with the major. A knowing pause almost like they had done this dance before…
The creature lunged, locking up with Major Krol as it swung and slammed railing. Krol didn’t back down however as he pushed against the creature, hiptossing it to the ground even as it tore at his armor and gear. But the beast pulled, both of them rolled and the Major was on his back as the thing reached for his neck. I fought to a kneel, firing into the creature messily with my MK18, trying not to hit my commander… then…
Click. A sound sends a chill up the spine of every warfighter during a firefight.
My gun ran dry. I dropped the magazine, looking to load another, but the thing came up and with one of it’s claws, sliced deep into my cheek, through the pro mask. I could feel my own blood go flying through the air as I landed hard on my back plate, spitting out red iron as I quickly tried to adjust my mask. Through my fogged up, blood covered lense… I saw my shield man raise his pistol, firing into the skull of the thing staggering it with a roar. Krol came from behind, drawing his knife he sunk it deep into the neck of it…. I reached for my rifle, forcing a new magazine in and damn near punching the bold release. ““Sir, down!!” I shouted, Krol rolled away, back to his own rifle as I fired. So did my comrade as he continued to fire his pistol… so did the Major as he fired his rifle. All of us chewing through that apex predator of darkness, that beast… the leader that had been preying on our people for so long. Layer by layer, muscle group by bone… eventually… the alpha landed on whatever was left of his back.
The silence of the fight died down as all of us checked our surroundings, GROM Operators putting controlled pairs in the heads and nerve stems of any Strigoi laying around… I flicked my weapon onto safe, letting it hang as I pulled off my mask. I dared not touch the wound on my face… the pain nearly crippling me if it wasn’t sheer will pushing me through, and adrenaline doing all it could to subdue it. The sound of the apaches continuing to lay hate drew us from our moment of contemplation as the Major went back to work; [“Confiscate any info, burn the rest…”]. He turned back to me as I shoved my damaged M50 mask back into it’s bag, chuckling as he looked at the sight; “You need a medevac, Blachowicz?” he quipped.
I shook my head, barely able to speak as I muttered; “Negative sir…”. The two of us scanned the room as my shield bearer went to collect his defense implement turned 90lb projectile, we scanned the center of the room, checking and confirming bodies, until we got to the last one alive. His white gown was soaked in red crimson and black ooze, as his dear head was mangled from bullet fire and impact from falling on it. I swear… the way his blood poured out of it though made me wonder if it was a mask. I gave it no second thoughts as he looked to Krol; “You… you can’t stop this, they’ve already-”.
The Major was in no mood for communication as his rifle snapped up and fired off three rounds to the body, four the head. The violent yet quick salvo ending the cultists life, I looked down at it, then to him as he remarked; “Have your squad drag him out to the front, burn the rest”. I stood alongside him, looking down as the sight of it’s deer head was both captivating and horrifying… the curiosity in me wanting to look closer at it fighting the primal instinct I had to burn the thing to ash. “-Haven’t seen one of those before…” I muttered, thinking the Major had an answer.
He didn’t. Krol saying “Neither have I…” shortly before he walked away, was what truly shook my soul about that entire night. Victory stood firm in our hearts that night as we stood outside of the bunker. The night sky burning with fire and white phosphorus as we watched the ruin burn from the inside from the other side of the lot. In the distance, the Apaches continued to scan and circle the forests, no longer firing…. Which meant they had driven any or turned to glass any enemy combatants within a four miles, probably both, more than likely the latter. Echo-1 patted me on the shoulder as we stood there, soaking it all in, though Krol looked none to pleased. “In the time it took us to take this one down, they’ll be trying to set up three more cells… that being established…” he said, looking to either of us, then to Echo-3. “-Hell of a thing we did tonight, been waiting for this one for a decade, cleanly, maybe more… but no time to rest on our laurels… we’ll have another task for us as soon as we’re boots down back home” he said, to which his eyes followed mine, the body of whatever cultist that was zipped up in a black body bag beside the wheel of one of the MRAPs. The fire from the bunker casting an orange hue over it’s shiny jet black outside, something didn’t sit right with me… “That wasn’t a Strigoi…” I said to Krol.
“That’s very clear…” the Major said, shoving his mask under his arm and lighting a cigarette. “So… someone’s helping them?” I asked. The meer notion of it shook me to my core, sickened me. This parasite was already badly infecting Europa, Polska… if it was spread like this throughout the world. Krol settled my nerves: “We’ll be ready… It’s not just us anymore”. As he said that, I realized what he meant… my eyes looking to the Apaches as they started to form up, leaving the areas as their thunderous propellers melted into the night’s calm, unnerving ambience.
It’s been a couple of weeks since then, Echo Detachment has been busy. We’ve gained good ground against the enemy and honestly I think in a few years, we might see a much larger change. For now… we must keep going, that being said the Strigoi aren’t the only ones we’ve been combating. Recently we’ve made contact with of some sort of extermination coalition, they’ve known about the Strigoi, and others plaguing the world, the level of corruption and corrosion on society goes deep. Regardless a lot of the units we’ve been working with are apart of NATO, such as this “4th Special Forces Group” of the American Military. I don’t know where the road from here leads, but we’ve gotten momentum on our side, finally. Just remember… these things are out there, in every town, every city, every nation… preying and waiting for you to be alone, vulnerable, so they can take you and replace you.
Watch your back, and stay safe.
For now, Blachowicz signing out. Until next time

Hey everyone, I’m mainly doing this for myself as a journal but whoever wants to join along is more than welcome to me. I’m hoping this becomes a success story and for my quality of life to stop being haunted. YOU DONT HAVE TO READ ALL OF THIS
I’m a 22 year old female in the US. I currently don’t have a job as I have been let go yesterday due to my unsuspecting symptoms and lack of communication. I can’t keep up with the regular 9-5 jobs and it’s turning into a pattern of me burning myself out. I don’t have anybody to rely on other than myself and I can’t get afford health insurance at the moment.
Current Symptoms: - Extreme Fatigue/Exhaustion - SouCurdling/Spicy tummy feeling? - Nausea/Contractions (especially after physical activity and eating or drinking) - Bloating/Gas/Gurgling -Rancid Smelling Poop - Acne - Regurgitating oil/grease - Recurrent yeast - Brain Fog/Confusion - Urinary Incontinence - Body Rashes/Allergic Reactions -Sugar Cravings - Migraines - Cotten Mouth/Dehydration - Malabsorption/Continual Hunger - Thinning Hair - Weight Loss - Weak Pelvic Floor? Tight/Tense Muscles? - Food in Stools (Not often) - Drunkness Feeling After Carbs? - Acid Reflux - Depression/Anxiety - Weak Immune System
Food Sensitivities that have developed: - Dairy -Gluten - Soy - Gastric foods/spices/drinks (including onion and garlic) - Processed Foods - Broths - Sugar (Fruit and All) - Starch - Acid (Fruits/Vinegars) - Medications (NSAIDS/Anti-Acids)
Tried treatments that I can remember: -Xifaxin (2 weeks) - Ortho Molecular Ortho Spore (2-3 months worked wonders but relapsed) -Dietitian: Low Fodmap Diet (3 months didn’t help) - Reuteri - B12, VitD, other vitamin supplements - Physical Therapy - Fluconazole - Boric Acid -Laxatives (basically all) - Collagen Peptides - Plant Based Protein Powder - Yoga
Most of Background: So I have been dealing with different illnesses that is a repeated pattern since I was possibly 12 years old. I would frequently have nasty migraines, stomach bugs, food poisoning, and respiratory infections out of the blue. It gotten to the point of my family always saying “there’s always something wrong with you”, “you’re just exaggerating”.
When it came to 2017, I started gaining rashes as allergic reactions. It couldn’t be classified as hives even though it looked the part because it would sting like a bitch instead of itching. It would run through out my body whenever I ate every so often and that was only on of the reactions as I had a second of my skin swelling as if it was a mosquito bite but worse and when the swelling went down, it would leave scars behind.
I went to an allergist and nothing popped up on the regular tests, but something popped up on the chemical patch test. The name of the chemical was called Balsam of Peru, it’s mainly a preservative that is in your common foods/beverages, cleaning products, and aerosols. I continued to have random allergic reactions here and there as it wasn’t feasible to follow a diet that strict in a household like mine.
Then came the end of 2019, I was having trouble with my stomach and would randomly gag from November til Jan 2020. I would literally start throwing up even if I had nothing in my stomach. I went to doctors but they kept thinking I was pregnant and would say my vitals were fine therefore there’s nothing wrong. One day mid Jan, I had throw up for the last time but there was something different..I couldn’t get up. I lost all strength in my legs and half of my strength in my arms. I went to the hospital and they did X-rays and scans just to say there was nothing wrong and it might be a virus that hit my nervous system. The next day they boot me out with nothing. I had to learn how to walk all over again like a baby until I gained my strength with only the help of my family which took about a month. Throughout that time I was still feeling sick and gagging/throwing up.
This is the point when my mom decides to get a referral to a GI and they look through my records from the hospital to find out I was backed up with waste up to my ribs. They did a horrifying flush on me and prescribed me linzess. It was getting me to poop more frequently but I still was feeling pretty sick often, it was manageable though.
I get to college, it was a shit show, I start to get more symptoms, like brain fog and fatigue. I thought it was all in my head at this point and tried my best in school but had low performance when I was used to easy A’s. I began to have yeast infections every so often. I start getting into vaping, smoking weed, and the occasional drinking. The vaping became chronic and whenever I would drink I would have alcohol poisoning like symptoms that were uncontrollable to the point where a couple of times I ended up in the hospital to get my stomach to stop contracting. I stopped all drinking and started becoming a religious smoker to deal with my symptoms, school, work, and every other stress in my life. All it did was make my health plummet even faster.
I finally got diagnosed with SIBO at the end of 2021 and thought “finally something!”, the GI thought to cure it was to give more laxatives to get my bowels to move more frequently. Instead it would turn me into a balloon that was about to burst but could not push anything out. The GI gave up anf I decided to move on. At this point I had to take a break from school because I was so tired whenever I woke up in the morning that I either slept completely through my alarms or I couldn’t physically get up out of bed. I constantly was having stomach issues. My yeast infections started coming at least 2x a month. I had so bad urinary incontinence that I had to wear diapers. I was dealing with so much stress with family, working, trying to make ends meet, trying different doctors that never helped and telling me different things. I was dealing with a psychologically abusive bf. Nobody believed how bad I felt everyday. How hard it was for me to eat, think, overall function like a human being. My bf seen it everyday but refused to acknowledge that when he says he understood that his actions would always say otherwise. It all mentally broke me and I crashed hard.
This brings me to practically the present. I cut contact with the EX bf and parents. I’m low contact with the rest of my family. I quit vaping for good, but the damage is already done. I am now on Wellbutrin and trying to pick up the pieces that are shattered. It’s been 6 months but my symptoms are worsening instead of getting better. I can’t hold down a 9-5 job, my stomach can’t and won’t tolerate anything. I starve myself most days, drink water and electrolyte drinks whenever my stomach take it.
Everyday I feel weak, exhausted, brain fog so bad that I can’t count to 5, stomach hurt. The last thing that made me question my entire existence, Saturday night I was starving so I made rice thinking it was the safest thing. The next morning I felt so drunk that I couldn’t function, I was so dehydrated and in so much pain I went to urgent care. The doctor looked at me as if I was on drugs, refused iv, and told me my symptoms were caused by trauma, it’s all in my head. She refused a work note as well. I felt a tad bit better after some electrolytes from home and went to sleep for work. I slept through my alarms and woke up 2.5 hrs late (total 14 hrs). I couldn’t move my body, text manager. She called after the shift explaining that she isn’t letting me go because of my illness, bc I failed to tell her about the day prior so she could plan accordingly. She wants me to focus on my health, it would’ve been kind if I wasn’t already drowning in debt and couldn’t even afford rent.
The reason why I wrote everything I could is because 1. I believe a lot of this is relevant to each other regarding SIBO and Candida in some way 2. It will help me for my future
If you made it this far CONGRATS 🎉🎊 🥳 And thank you for the support!

Hey everyone, I’m mainly doing this for myself as a journal but whoever wants to join along is more than welcome to me. I’m hoping this becomes a success story and for my quality of life to stop being haunted. YOU DONT HAVE TO READ ALL OF THIS
I’m a 22 year old female in the US. I currently don’t have a job as I have been let go yesterday due to my unsuspecting symptoms and lack of communication. I can’t keep up with the regular 9-5 jobs and it’s turning into a pattern of me burning myself out. I don’t have anybody to rely on other than myself and I can’t get afford health insurance at the moment.
Current Symptoms: - Extreme Fatigue/Exhaustion - SouCurdling/Spicy tummy feeling? - Nausea/Contractions (especially after physical activity and eating or drinking) - Bloating/Gas/Gurgling -Rancid Smelling Poop - Acne - Regurgitating oil/grease - Recurrent yeast - Brain Fog/Confusion - Urinary Incontinence - Body Rashes/Allergic Reactions -Sugar Cravings - Migraines - Cotten Mouth/Dehydration - Malabsorption/Continual Hunger - Thinning Hair - Weight Loss - Weak Pelvic Floor? Tight/Tense Muscles? - Food in Stools (Not often) - Drunkness Feeling After Carbs? - Acid Reflux - Depression/Anxiety - Weak Immune System
Food Sensitivities that have developed: - Dairy -Gluten - Soy - Gastric foods/spices/drinks (including onion and garlic) - Processed Foods - Broths - Sugar (Fruit and All) - Starch - Acid (Fruits/Vinegars) - Medications (NSAIDS/Anti-Acids)
Tried treatments that I can remember: -Xifaxin (2 weeks) - Ortho Molecular Ortho Spore (2-3 months worked wonders but relapsed) -Dietitian: Low Fodmap Diet (3 months didn’t help) - Reuteri - B12, VitD, other vitamin supplements - Physical Therapy - Fluconazole - Boric Acid -Laxatives (basically all) - Collagen Peptides - Plant Based Protein Powder - Yoga
Most of Background: So I have been dealing with different illnesses that is a repeated pattern since I was possibly 12 years old. I would frequently have nasty migraines, stomach bugs, food poisoning, and respiratory infections out of the blue. It gotten to the point of my family always saying “there’s always something wrong with you”, “you’re just exaggerating”.
When it came to 2017, I started gaining rashes as allergic reactions. It couldn’t be classified as hives even though it looked the part because it would sting like a bitch instead of itching. It would run through out my body whenever I ate every so often and that was only on of the reactions as I had a second of my skin swelling as if it was a mosquito bite but worse and when the swelling went down, it would leave scars behind.
I went to an allergist and nothing popped up on the regular tests, but something popped up on the chemical patch test. The name of the chemical was called Balsam of Peru, it’s mainly a preservative that is in your common foods/beverages, cleaning products, and aerosols. I continued to have random allergic reactions here and there as it wasn’t feasible to follow a diet that strict in a household like mine.
Then came the end of 2019, I was having trouble with my stomach and would randomly gag from November til Jan 2020. I would literally start throwing up even if I had nothing in my stomach. I went to doctors but they kept thinking I was pregnant and would say my vitals were fine therefore there’s nothing wrong. One day mid Jan, I had throw up for the last time but there was something different..I couldn’t get up. I lost all strength in my legs and half of my strength in my arms. I went to the hospital and they did X-rays and scans just to say there was nothing wrong and it might be a virus that hit my nervous system. The next day they boot me out with nothing. I had to learn how to walk all over again like a baby until I gained my strength with only the help of my family which took about a month. Throughout that time I was still feeling sick and gagging/throwing up.
This is the point when my mom decides to get a referral to a GI and they look through my records from the hospital to find out I was backed up with waste up to my ribs. They did a horrifying flush on me and prescribed me linzess. It was getting me to poop more frequently but I still was feeling pretty sick often, it was manageable though.
I get to college, it was a shit show, I start to get more symptoms, like brain fog and fatigue. I thought it was all in my head at this point and tried my best in school but had low performance when I was used to easy A’s. I began to have yeast infections every so often. I start getting into vaping, smoking weed, and the occasional drinking. The vaping became chronic and whenever I would drink I would have alcohol poisoning like symptoms that were uncontrollable to the point where a couple of times I ended up in the hospital to get my stomach to stop contracting. I stopped all drinking and started becoming a religious smoker to deal with my symptoms, school, work, and every other stress in my life. All it did was make my health plummet even faster.
I finally got diagnosed with SIBO at the end of 2021 and thought “finally something!”, the GI thought to cure it was to give more laxatives to get my bowels to move more frequently. Instead it would turn me into a balloon that was about to burst but could not push anything out. The GI gave up anf I decided to move on. At this point I had to take a break from school because I was so tired whenever I woke up in the morning that I either slept completely through my alarms or I couldn’t physically get up out of bed. I constantly was having stomach issues. My yeast infections started coming at least 2x a month. I had so bad urinary incontinence that I had to wear diapers. I was dealing with so much stress with family, working, trying to make ends meet, trying different doctors that never helped and telling me different things. I was dealing with a psychologically abusive bf. Nobody believed how bad I felt everyday. How hard it was for me to eat, think, overall function like a human being. My bf seen it everyday but refused to acknowledge that when he says he understood that his actions would always say otherwise. It all mentally broke me and I crashed hard.
This brings me to practically the present. I cut contact with the EX bf and parents. I’m low contact with the rest of my family. I quit vaping for good, but the damage is already done. I am now on Wellbutrin and trying to pick up the pieces that are shattered. It’s been 6 months but my symptoms are worsening instead of getting better. I can’t hold down a 9-5 job, my stomach can’t and won’t tolerate anything. I starve myself most days, drink water and electrolyte drinks whenever my stomach take it.
Everyday I feel weak, exhausted, brain fog so bad that I can’t count to 5, stomach hurt. The last thing that made me question my entire existence, Saturday night I was starving so I made rice thinking it was the safest thing. The next morning I felt so drunk that I couldn’t function, I was so dehydrated and in so much pain I went to urgent care. The doctor looked at me as if I was on drugs, refused iv, and told me my symptoms were caused by trauma, it’s all in my head. She refused a work note as well. I felt a tad bit better after some electrolytes from home and went to sleep for work. I slept through my alarms and woke up 2.5 hrs late (total 14 hrs). I couldn’t move my body, text manager. She called after the shift explaining that she isn’t letting me go because of my illness, bc I failed to tell her about the day prior so she could plan accordingly. She wants me to focus on my health, it would’ve been kind if I wasn’t already drowning in debt and couldn’t even afford rent.
The reason why I wrote everything I could is because 1. I believe a lot of this is relevant to each other regarding SIBO and Candida in some way 2. It will help me for my future
If you made it this far CONGRATS 🎉🎊 🥳 And thank you for the support!

I'll go on record that I did not like Season 4 much at all, and I agree with a lot of its criticisms. WITH THAT SAID, I loved seasons 1-3, and since we don't need another S4 sucks post, I'm going to try my hand at explaining some of the seeming inconsistencies/contradictions/plot holes within a plausible framework for the show. I don't fully buy my own explanations here, for what it's worth, but I've got to reconcile my head canon somehow.
Why did Ruth approach the obvious Cartel SUV and get killed? Rachel had just killed one assassin, so it stands to reason that this was sicario numero dos. Ruth had a lot to live for at this point, so we can't chalk this foolishness up to her post-Wyatt nihilism; she had her record expunged and seemed excited to break the Langmore Curse and run a legitimate operation with her new BFF. But if Ruth had a defining characteristic, it was her reckless stubbornness. She was like her dad in that way, a shining example of survivorship bias. She often ran into problems head on and feared nothing--and for much of her life, it worked. Until it didn't, like with her dead-in-the-road dad.
What on earth was Mel the PI thinking? This one's a real head scratcher for me. Mel knows Wendy and Marty are connected to a large cartel and behind many missing persons. Hell, he figured out that Wendy was involved in Ben's death by linking her apparent drivebodyguard to the man he saw footage of at the diner; Maya identified Nelson to Mel as a "heavy" for the cartel. For all he knows, Nelson will be driving the Byrdes home from the gala and then setting up shop as protection. Even if he's not there, it's no stretch to consider he's close by. So, knowing that the Byrdes are cartel connected and that a "heavy" is one of their close associates, why is he all alone gloating in one of the most blatant examples of contrived exposition imaginable? It seems insane.
The way I reconcile this is that he knows the urn may not be admissible as evidence, since it was obtained illegally, and that it in and of itself won't be all that useful anyway--at best, it's evidence that the Byrdes were aware that Ben had died despite pretending he had been missing. So he needed more. What if he could get the Byrdes on tape/phone in a panic, admitting that yes, they killed Ben, and they'd do anything to prevent the news from getting out? Maybe the tape could be leveraged into something more--not blackmail on the Byrdes, per se, not evidence in a court room, but a way to pursue the case from the Chicago PD, especially since the Byrdes were relocating back there. That is, until Jonah kills him.
Speaking of which, why did Jonah do that? Wasn't he against his mom the whole season? He was, but maybe all that opposition, as Wendy said at one point, reflected teenage rebellion and angst. He does seem to be the moral compass of Season 4, but he is only 15 years old. He was eager to get back to his old life in Chicago and seemed relieved that this was all now behind him. He might be willing to kill for that future, especially at the goading of his desperate parents, and he's been living in a world where everyone draws guns on each other for basically any reason. I still don't buy it, but it's the best I can come up with.
Say, killing people, like Darlene. How did Javy even get in there? Even at their peak, the Snells didn't seem like much of a powerhouse. They're distributors, sure, and they probably made bank wholesaling in those hymnals, but they're a far cry from a drug cartel. By the time we get to Season 4, I'd imagine they lost a lot of their troops. Charismatic Jacob is dead, so that leaves crazy Darlene at the helm, and there's no way the Snell Army didn't know about her madness. She's also now living with some kid and appears to be locked in a power struggle with that kid's cousin. Worse, everyone knows that the cartel tried to assassinate the Snells, so they're obviously in deep with some dangerous folks. By the time Javy broke into their farmhouse, it's not hard for me to believe they had lost most of their muscle. Darlene even complained that some of her men had quit to go be meth dealers.
Why the f did Frank Cosgrove go to Darlene's alone? When Wyatt went to Ruth in exasperation and declared that Darlene killed Frank Cosgrove Sr, I laughed because it was just so absurd, another Wednesday with murderous Darlene. So folks wondered naturally why Frank went there by himself. He's in the KC mob after all, and since when do mob bosses not roll deep? Well, I don't think of him as running a "mob." We only see him holed up in an office in what looks to be a truck yard. I imagine he's no more than a union thug, the leader of a gang that doesn't even rise to the level of Glorified Crew.
I hate that the Byrdes got away with it. The writers had to shove the Byrdes' scot-free escape down our throats because they wanted, so badly, for the show to be about the power of privilege, and how with enough money and connections anyone can get away with anything. But if that's the takeaway message they wanted, then they don't really even know their own content.
The Byrdes are forever intertwined with an international drug cartel. They helped the former kingpin extend his empire, a kingpin who incidentally was murdered by the current kingpin. Cartels are not exactly stable organizations, and paranoid leaders can certainly go around killing anyone they think might compromise or threaten them. Gangsters don't need much reason to kill people. It's not much of a stretch for me to imagine, some years down the line, Camila wanting to renege on her deal with the FBI and reasoning that she has to murder anyone with knowledge of it--or thinking for five minutes and realizing that the Byrdes were involved with her son's death, and maybe even orchestrated it--or the next power-hungry thug who seizes control wanting to wipe out the preceding regime's allies--or a traditionalist who discovers leadership is working with federal agents.
One more. How did the cops not find the mountain of heroin when searching the Snell property? I got nothing for this one, sorry, except cops be lazy, and all that heroin would've been A LOT of paperwork.

I am 22, and I’m pretty annoying. I’ll probably call you a bedwetter out of endearment. Looking for some friends that could talk with me, as I’m completely friendless at the moment. Daily life is getting harder to navigate with the weight of loneliness on my back.
A few months ago I had a tragic relationship bomb up-end my life and leave me a few states away. Which kinda sucks, but we are working on it and making progress.
I’m not gonna lie, I think I’m going to be homeless pretty soon, but no worries I think I found a campsite I can live at for $30 a day on airbnb. I do DoorDash so I’m not too worried about it financially. Maybe I can get a big knife and try to 1v1 a grizzly bear in the woods, that would be pretty cool haha. I’m looking at tents and learning how to camp online in preparation. But I have phone data! So I won’t ghost anyone!
I like tattoos and piercings, and I love all types of music. I can also get down and dirty with some knitting and crochet. I play a lot of different games (PC, switch, board games) but I can’t promise I’ll be on everyday, especially with the impending doom of homelessness lmao. I recently been getting into anime, got a CrunchyRoll account and it’s been cool getting into it! If anyone wants to talk lmk, I might have a little venting but not much if that’s not your speed I’m honestly vibing.

Weekly Blog 4
The Anchors: Tools For the Storm
Whats up guys! We’re back this week and diving into a concept that's become the fundamental base of my approach to life's challenges. This week I introduce to you the anchors. Whether you're navigating personal growth or undergoing transformative therapies, these principles can be a powerful guide. So let’s explore these anchors and mantras that can stabilize us in the turbulent skies of our experience.

1. Breathe: The Foundational Anchor

The breath is our greatest anchor. When we are consciously breathing, we are consciously living. This week, I want to introduce you to two techniques that I find incredibly grounding and have been vital along my healing journey. The first is the "Box Breath" method: breathe in for 4 seconds, hold for 4 seconds, exhale for 4 seconds, and hold again for 4 seconds. The second method, my personal favorite which I often use during deeper sessions, is the "4,7,8" technique—inhale through the nose for 4 seconds, hold for 7 seconds, and exhale slowly through the mouth for 8 seconds. This longer exhale helps slow the heart rate, calming the mind and pulling us out of the fight-or-flight response. Remember to recite mantra such as, "I am safe, I am present."

1. Trust: Believing in the Journey

Next, let’s talk about trust. There is an invitation to trust in the process of life, that everything is unfolding not just around you, but for you. It's a conscious choice to perceive obstacles as opportunities to strengthen and evolve our character. But most of all, trust in yourself. After all, you've navigated through life to this point, so you must be doing something right! An example of a mantra I would use would be: "I trust myself and the experience. I trust the journey." This mantra isn’t just a statement, it's a commitment to self belief through every twist, turn and obstacle of life.

1. Let Go: The Art of Surrender

I know you know the popular saying: What we resist persists. It’s a saying as old as time, but it holds a truth that can’t be overlooked. Sometimes, the best action is to surrender to what is beyond our control. Focus on what you can manage: your actions, your responses, your mindset. Imagine you’re driving: you control the steering wheel, the gas, and the brakes, but not the road itself. So why not turn up the music, roll down the windows, and enjoy the ride.. My mantra here would sound as simple as: "I am letting go.” Or, “I am giving myself permission to let go." This mantra is about embracing the flow of life, and the energy of letting go will then allow you to….

1. Be Open: Embrace Vulnerability

Finally, once we've learned to let go, there lies the opportunity to be open and vulnerable. This is no easy task, but it is where true strength lies. Many of us encounter fear in the idea vulnerability. However, it allows us to face the challenges of life head on, whether it's dealing with a hurt child within us, past trauma, or fears of abandonment. By facing these openly, we can begin the healing process similar to stitching a wound. This will require grace, patience, and determination. So I will leave you with this: Both faith and fear require you to believe in something you cannot see. The choice is yours.
I greatly appreciate you taking the time to read this today. These anchors are not just tools, but companions through our journey of self discovery and healing. I hope you are all having a beautiful week and I look forward to seeing you next week more wisdom and helpful tips I’ve learned along my journey as a student and guide. So until next time remember to breathe, trust, let go, and be open.
Disclaimer: This post is intended for informational purposes only and does not constitute medical advice. The use of ketamine troches should be guided by a healthcare professional. The insights shared here should not replace your provider's instructions. Consult with your healthcare provider before making any changes to your treatment approach.

Hello everyone, I have a bit of a niche situation and I am seeking advice for. Background is this, I am currently 24 years old and last year I landed a B2B sales job. While I was initially nervous about my performance it is in a rapidly growing industry, and the product is solid (i.e. ~ sells itself). Fast forward a year and I've consistently been closing (on average) about two sales per week each with an average commission per sale of about $2,000. I'm on track this year to make about $192k which is about $120k after I set aside for taxes (including various credits and write offs).
About the same time I started this job I opened a Roth IRA with vanguard. Since starting I maxed out both the 2023 and 2024 tax years already with principal totaling about $13,500 and about $700 worth of returns so far. I know that at my income level I should be able to pump much more more than I currently am into retirement accounts. I envy people who can max out their 401k account with $23,000 per year, unfortunately I can't do this. My current employer does not offer anything in the way of retirement matching 401k or 403b whatsoever. What are my options here?
Obviously I want to keep my Roth IRA, but I need to find some other kind of retirement vehicle that will allow me to put at least $20,000/yr into without needing an employer opened account. What are my options here? What would you guys do if you were in my situation? Comment below and let me know.

I have a pretty simple situation overall, but I’m not that confident in my money knowledge. For example, I have a Roth IRA, 401K, and HSA but I do not understand the best way to invest between each of these. I also don’t understand 401K matching and taxes very well. And the Roth vs. traditional discussion confuses me a bit. So these are the main topics I’d want to speak with an advisor on.
Outside of that, my situation is quite simple, except that my life has not been very stable. The questions on where I expect to be in retirement really throw me off because I have no idea. I have very little debt and am close to paying it off, so I have that going for me at least.
Anyway, I’m curious if y’all think I should seek a financial advisor. I’m hoping to gain some sort of confidence and direction in my financial situation, and I don’t have anyone to go to in my personal life for advice.
Thanks!

So, I've kind of posted about this in other threads, specifically on askreddit, but by some users request, I will do my best to fully relay this entire tale up to the current point, as well as provide as much context I am able (and will provide missing context if asked in comments).
TL;DR
A friend of mine of 4 years drank himself into liver failure and his wife cheated on him, so I offered him a free room to try and put his life back together, and I was repaid for the thought with a divorce of my own, but honestly, it's probably not that bad.
Part 1: CONTEXT
Me and my wife have been together since early 2014, and married in late 2017. We have been through much together, including two extended deployments, one of which was 10 and a half months long. We have traveled the world together, lived on both coasts of the US, and despite much of our struggles and how things eventually went down, I was always convinced we would work as a team to overcome any issues.
The friend in question was, largely, an online friend. We met playing an MMO during covid and we quickly formed a very tight knit, but small, community that were very close that included me, my wife, my friend, his wife, and 4 other friends. Covid was a wild time and I was surprised how easy it was to form friends in this group and we kept in touch, as a whole, even once quarantine had ended and most of us had moved on from that particular game. This was a group that, while it started online, we have met most of these people several times IRL and had vacations to spend time together and just hang out.
Part 2: His Problems
Fast forward to about January of 2024. My buddy, from here on out I will refer to as Z (and for a quick add, I will refer to my wife as D), contacts us to tell us his condition is dire and he has been diagnosed with stage 4 cirrhosis of the liver as a consequence of his extensive drinking. Shaken, we quickly charter a flight out to visit. Within a week, we're staying with him and his wife and his roommate and a couple members of his family who are taking care of him. This man is bloated, yellow, and probably about 350lbs now. We are worried, but stay supportive and positive that help can be found, especially since he seems keen on changing his lifestyle for the better. Some of his family start a gofundme that we donate to, and many of the people in our gaming circle who have grown close also donate several thousand dollars (One member of our raid team donated 10k. You never know who is stealth rich on the internet I guess). Me and several other friends discuss the possibilities of helping him get on disability and even getting ourselves tested as compatible living donors. Sad, but hopeful, we depart about a week later, and stay in constant touch.
About a month later, I'm getting a call from one of our mutuals letting me know that "Hey, so I may have goofed up." and tells me how Z's wife had visited him and had a 3 way with him and his wife. I am obviously irate at this and turn to back Z up with comments like "So much for in sickness and in health, huh?" I do what I can to stay supportive, and my wife, D, also makes it a point to stay in touch with him as he has found himself banished to the couch of his apartment. Not even allowed to sleep in his own bed and frequently uncomfortable even being in his bedroom to use the PC.
I'm not particularly rich, but I am not poor either. I served in the military and have a high VA rating which means a constant income and have a steady job and a couple side gigs that pay well enough. My love language, in many ways, is gift giving. I pride myself on being able to pick a good gift, even if it's a little early for an occasion such as a bday or christmas, and will often pull the trigger on something if it means a lot or I think it will help. In this case, my brother was selling an old steam deck because he wanted a new OLED model, so I figured "two birds, one stone", and buy the steam deck off him and send it to Z so we can still game together.
In the intervening months, Z and D start playing games that I have no interest in (Disney Dreamlight Valley), but I am happy to play other games and hang out and chat. Really, nothing seems amiss, but since his banishment, me and my wife are both pushing for him to come and take up the spare bedroom we have in our home. Soon enough, I buy him a plane ticket and he arrives with little more than the clothes on his back and we take him in, no cost other than the expectation that he might help around the house a bit (he was a chef, so having a cook and someone to help clean was ideal for me who often did not have the time or energy to handle these tasks as thoroughly as I would like).
Part 3: The Incident
Now, I am skipping ahead a little bit here, but there's not much to be said about the time between. My wife worked part time hours, and when she did go to work, she'd have him tag along just so he wouldn't "Sit and stew with bad thoughts" at the house alone. I will admit that throughout this entire ordeal, I have had several, several times where my brain tried to warn me, but I ignored ALL of those signs because I trusted him, but more importantly, I trusted her with my life.
One new, frequent argument I found myself having with her was she would fall asleep on the couch, and when I finally tried to go to bed, I'd do my best to wake her and drag her upstairs. These became extremely frequent occurrences and I expressed to her how frustrated I was that I had to fight with her just to come to bed so we could sleep (mind you, this is not even about sex. Often I'm taking her to bed at like, 1am and I work at 7, so I really just wanted her to be sleeping in the bed). Hell, one time, I started catching the vibes that the longer I sat and waited for her to be ready to go upstairs, she just never would be, because they were waiting for me to leave so they could talk in hushed tones. On THAT particular night, I went upstairs alone with her finally awake, and she did not join me for another half hour.
Finally, the day arrives. Its Sunday. We are all downstairs hanging out. One of their newest habits I can't really stand but just dealt with is that she'd sit and crochet while he doomscrolled or strummed on a guitar I bought him and listen to music videos on youtube endlessly. Eventually, I grow weary and give my wife a kiss and tell her I'm gonna go upstairs and play some GW2 for a bit.
About an hour passes, and she enters the game room and tells me "I am uncomfortable. I really need to talk to you. Oh, you're dying!" (As she entered the room, I immediately turn face to talk to her and disregard the game, but she decided that my Charr was more important that what was about to happen, so she of course warns me.) We step into the bedroom and close the door.
"You're going to hate me," she says through tears, "me and Z kissed!" At this point, my brain short circuits and I recall one of my first thoughts being "Oh lord, here we go." and just a general desire to not be a part of this conversation. Shock sets in almost immediately. Still with a healthy dose of denial, I talk to her about what had happened and told her that it needed to end. Even at this point, I did not want to send this man home. Was it shock? Denial? Probably a mixture of the two, or some other additional emotional responses. She gets up after some discussion and goes downstairs, promising to shut him down, but comes back about 15 minutes later sobbing "I couldn't do it! I couldn't end it..." (Side note: In my confused haze of a mind, I feel personally threatened, and after she leaves the bedroom, I lock the door and grab a metal water cub I keep at my side and prepare to actually fight if it comes to it, but once she returns, I back off that idea again.)
Talking with her more, I present her with two options; Couple's therapy, or divorce. BOTH of these options are world ending to her, and she even goes so far as to suggest that just because I said the "D word" that it was what I wanted, which was objectively untrue. We talk back and forth about things I don't quite recall at this point, aside from one point where she comes back and locks herself in the master bath and tells me to call 911, she doesn't care, because she's going to take a bunch of pills, but after a couple of hours, Z shows up to the door and knocks and asks if he can come in. I tell him he may enter, and we talk for a bit. After about 5ish minutes, we decide to go downstairs to the living room and continue the discussion.
Once I sit down on the sofa, I immediately feel like I'm being positioned as the bad guy. I'm in the corner of our sectional, and she's on my left, he's on my right. She tells him "He said it's either a divorce or couple's therapy." "Oh, so he gave you an ultimatum?" I continue to argue that yes, those are the two only options. Z tells me "You're not being fair to her emotions. She is telling you there is another option." I am thoroughly baffled at this statement.
D: I didn't think it was possible and I didn't mean for it to happen, but I have fallen in love with another man. My heart has room for two. I truly have two soulmates. I have never been happier than sleeping on the couch next to my two boys.
Z: There is no reason you guys can't stay married, and we can explore what we've found. I mean, look at how happy she has been since I have been here!
Sick to my stomach, I get up to go vomit in the toilet. Now, I wore a silicone wedding ring, and often find even with a hand wash, a little water tends to get trapped under it. After I finish and wash myself up, I come back and am playing with my ring to dry it. She sees this as a sign that I am uncomfortable again wearing my ring, and takes off her ring as I sit back down and hands me her wedding ring.
Me: Uh, excuse me?
D: This is what you want, I can tell.
Me: No? I was washing my hands and water gets stuck under my ring...
D: Oh... I thought... okay. (And she takes back her ring from me)
I tell her, very clearly, the options are to either end things with him, or end things with me. At this point, I'm still in shock, but sober in mind enough to decide that this is not worth fighting over. I will not argue with my own wife my merits or why she shouldn't just pack up and leave with a jobless, now essentially homeless man, and if she cannot figure that out herself then I will eventually move on.
Crying, sobbing, she sits down in front of him and says, "I'm so sorry, I fought for you. I really did. I told you I'd fight for you and I failed. I loved being your girlfriend, but I need to be a good wife and stay."
Z says "Alright." and starts to go gather his things to leave. As he does, she grabs him and says "No, wait! Please don't go. I don't know what I want."
Z: Ok, well if we're getting all this out in the open, I want to say this. I love this girl. I love her with my whole heart, and without her, life is not worth living. I will not leave this house if you (me) tell me to. Only her. You are taking this very well right now, I can tell you want to hit me (Still in shock, no, I can genuinely say that emotion or thought had not actually registered outside of the event upstairs earlier), but this is my stand.
D: OP, we had a good run. I'm sorry.
And with that, I get up and go to get my sandals and leave the house to get some air. As I try to go, she runs to the door and he follows her. She pushes the door closed and says "No wait, please!"
Me: No, this is the deal. I'm going out to get some fresh air. I am not threatening self harm to "win you back".
D: Will you be back?
Me: I don't know.
Z: Man, I'm telling you, you don't understand, you think I am your enemy, but I am not.
And with that, I leave and shut the door.
In the about, hour, I am gone, I drive around near the house and I call my supervisor who I have a very good relationship with (and I did not want to involve direct friends or family yet because I'm afraid it's too early to start spreading this news). I go over to her house nearby and we chat shortly. After our talk, I have at least something of a clear head and go home, with words for both of them.
As I arrive home, there is no one downstairs. I go upstairs. His door is closed. I knock on the door.
Z: Uh, one second.
I wait for about 5 agonizing seconds, but I refuse to be shut out of rooms in my own home and open the door. He is shirtless, and she is hiding in the corner just out of sight of me. I look him in the eye.
Me: Really?
Z: Yep.
Me: Get out of my house.
And with that, they both silently pack their things and leave.
The second I hear the front door close, I start calling people. I am not above pettiness, and the first person I call is her mom, whom I have a good relationship with. She is SHAKEN and immediately calls her. (I find out later that it was a particularly harsh verbal beating by her, but it really doesn't change anything.)
When I come downstairs to check the state of the house, I see her wedding ring on the counter. I call out of work the next day and lay down and hope I die.
Part 4: Her Problems
So, there is some additional context that I did not add in part 1 because a lot of it is red flags I ignored over the course of our relationship that, in the days following, started to become more and more obvious. There are many that I spent much effort playing off or covering her for, but I will try to briefly list much of what I see as glaring issues in the relationship that were never remedied.
This woman is 30 years old and cannot drive. She can drive and HAS driven my vehicle at the start of the relationship (albeit illegally), but after one tiny little accident where she hit a pole and knocked my side mirror off (which she paid for and fixed before telling me, it really wasn't a big deal. I was on deployment), she never drove again. Attempts to get her behind the wheel would end very quickly after they started, and the conditions to get her in the seat were often extremely time limited, scheduled, or something would come up, and every time I told her "okay, this month we're getting your license for sure" it just wouldn't happen and I'd end up feeling like the one who was at fault.
She does not have her Bachelor's degree because she did not turn in her final project for one single class. Not only that, but she has never truly pursued a career with the things she learned from the coursework, or even used her AA.
For half of the relationship, she did not work at all. When she did, it was often part time work, and if she was saddled with full time hours or, god forbid, overtime, it was a world-ending affair. She would come home and constantly be tired from her few hours at work and would do little more than sit around and crochet.
Our agreement when we bought our house was that she was going to work full time and we were going to split household duties, but I would definitely scoop the cat box because she was allergic (but she wanted cats) and wash dishes (because she hated them), and she would do laundry (because I hated it). In practice, all her version of laundry turned out to be was to throw loads in when one of us was out of clothes and just hit wash and then rotate, and then leave all the clothes in a pile on the bed. EVERYONE KNOWS folding the laundry is the worst part! Come on! Men's clothes are easy! I don't wear that much! (When we would fold, I often finished in a third of her time and would just hang out and chat until she was done)
Ultimately, this meant that for many years now, she was working barely more than part time if she was working at all, and would sort-of do laundry. Meanwhile, I am scooping litter, folding laundry, doing dishes, doing all related yard work, doing all the household cleaning, handling all the finances, I did MOST of the cooking, and all of the grocery shopping (often going alone), driving her from work if I could (she'd uber it if not) and picking her up and driving her home, as well as just generally being a chauffeur for her for 10 years, while working a full time job and a side gig online. Many nights I'd have to stop what I was doing to pick her up at closing hours, and then would sit in the parking lot for 30 minutes while she did tasks like vacuum her little crystal shop that she definitely could have done before close so I didn't end up waiting so damn long. Then we'd come home hang out and eat while we watched TV, and then if I wanted to try and go upstairs to do another hobby, I'd be silently guilted about it because she wanted to sit on the couch and crochet.
Part 5: My Problems
I am not perfect, and admit I have flaws. One of her favorite things to claim to our friends now is that I was "emotionally neglectful", and if there is truth to it, I think I can pin down the day. Before I started working full time again, I was going to school on the 9/11 GI bill. I was not a good student in my younger years, but in time, I have become rather good at school. My first two semesters back I easily maintained a 4.0 GPA. Over the summer in 2022, I, woefully, decided to take a Calc 2 class online because I could not find one in person and wanted to be ready for Calc 3 in the Fall to fill a prereq for my bachelor's, and I really liked the instructor for that Calc 3 class. This calc 2 class was painful. The instructor had clearly recorded all his lectures during Covid and we were simply given the full course of videos and given work assignments and said "Email me if you have questions." This is not how I learn, but I figured, hey, it's one class. I'm working again, but one class isn't a huge deal. I can knock this out.
I was wrong.
After the second exam, I had a low C in the class and I knew I couldn't keep up. I withdrew from the class feeling no other option. I tend to be pretty good at math, and ultimately my dream was to work with 3d printing on an industrial scale with a Mechanical Engineering degree- and if that failed I had my military history (which is engineering relevant) and a degree to fall back on and work should come easily. After clicking that withdraw button, I saw those dreams vaporize. After that, I threw myself into my government civilian job full time and slowly fell into depression. By the end of our relationship, with the toll of doing 99% of the work around the house and for her and with my dreams dead and buried, at age 33, I would wake up and pray I died. I would never kill myself, but I wanted to just die. I felt backed into a corner. I still did everything I could to support her and hoped that one day, she would pick up some of the load and maybe, just maybe, I could go back, but that day did not come (At least not in the way I expected).
Part 6: The Aftermath
This post is already too long, and if I include every single detail that has come to light since, I might actually hit the post cap, but I will go over at least some of it here.
I have had my friends come out in droves. Both of them have been effectively exiled, at least from what I can see, from every friend circle we have. After a couple of days, they flew back to live with, I guess, his parents in Vegas while they sorted shit out, because after I spoke with Z's previous roommate, he adamantly explained he was tired of all the "fucking drama" that Z had been bringing into the house and was just done with it.
I have spoken with many, many people and gotten even more context and even receipts of some of each of their conversations to our mutual friends, and some of the shit I read is just hilarious. He is "not ashamed of pursuing happiness, he is just sad that people got hurt". She is "coming to terms with emotional neglect and felt trapped, but now, yes now, she is free."
I got my neighbors to watch the cats, and took my dog up to visit my closest friend of 20 years and spent about a week and a half drinking, smoking, and talking about all this while surrounded by some of the most beautiful nature the US has to offer. Truly, without this man, I don't think I'd have gotten this far as quickly as I have. He really has been a lifesaver and I truly, to my dying day, will always appreciate him.
Paperwork has been filed, we wish to remain on good terms, and one day I still do hope I can be a friend to her, but she is woefully immature and incapable of adequately performing in an adult society. I have quit my job and am returning to school with a much lighter budget and will be getting that degree I desperately need.
It's been hard, real hard. I have put every ounce of my being into this relationship, and I truly felt like she was part of me, and nothing like this could ever happen. But it's that trust that allowed this to happen. I do not hate her, I'm just disappointed. I will pick up my pieces and, hopefully, find myself whole again soon.
Part 7: Rambling anecdotes
These are some stories I wanted to include in the previous body of text but didn't feel like it kept the same flow (if there even is any at all, I'm not proofreading this). If I remember any others after I post, Ill just toss them in the comments.
Early after Z came to live with us, my mother came to the house to drop off a package. I am pretty sure I was at work, but when my mother came to the door, both of them answered the door and the way my mom describes it "First of all, do you answer the door at your friends house? Also, the way he hovered over her made me uncomfortable. They were in the doorway and he was right up behind her poking his head out." She said my wife had told her that I was feeling unwell and was upstairs sleeping. I can't even be sure at this point.
Shortly before all the things happened, my parents were going out of town to celebrate their own anniversary, and I had agreed to dog-sit their 5 month old puppy (who, while cute, has WAY too much energy and was EXTREMELY difficult to handle, and I have raised several dogs at this point). We met up and took the dog, and then ALL of us (including Z) went to dinner. At dinner, my mother looked at my wife and asked, directly "And so how long have you been married? 6, almost 7 years? Well at least you missed that 7 year itch, huh" and my wife shortly followed with a comment about how she was not hungry and did not eat dinner that night.
All of this happened WHILE THIS CRAZY PUPPY was running around the house, and part of me thinks he pushed this to happen when it did because he could not stand having to help take care of this dog any longer (2 days).
About a week after all this happened, my wife did not text or call me, or respond to any messages or emails I sent her (I didn't send many, but they exist). Frustrated, I text her and tell her I need to talk to her about logistics moving forward, specifically about her belongings. She told me "I will talk to you when I am ready." We did not talk for another week. Also, she told me to stop talking to her mom. (I have a good relationship with both of my in-laws and while her step-father tried to remain impartial to the best of his abilities, he gave me some of the best advice I could possibly have gotten at that time, mostly about how to move forward and cope, as he has personally dealt with this with smaller relationships 3 separate times in his life which he gave me details on, and we are still on good terms.)
Their favorite TV show to watch together was Outlander, which, if you aren't aware, is basically a story about a woman who time travels and has two men in her life.
One of our biggest constant points of contention was my friendship with an old high school buddy (who I spent much of the time in the aftermath hanging out with while healing). We believe, with good reason, that she hated this man because after I had almost been hospitalized for psych reasons due to stress, he had told me I needed to talk to her about working again and doing more to help around the house. She figured out, obviously, who was telling me to say these things, and sent a very, very angry text to his wife. They all apparently made up, but I know she never let that grudge go.
One of the fairly recent hobbies I got into was D&D. It seemed like a good fit for all of us. She loved fantasy and gaming, I enjoyed 3d printing and story telling. She needed friends, and a party of people hangin out would give her at least a few connections to start. Every night she "participated" in D&D, she mostly sat quiet and did not do anything. Hell, I tried to get her to participate in 2 different games, and after she left the first one, she asked to just sit quietly in the discord call (This first one was online only, second was in person) and listen, which was super awkward. In the in person game, after 3 months of playing, she did not know how to play her character at all, and mostly spent her time at the table crocheting. (My buddy even made a comment about how at one point, he was proud of how good I was getting at DMing and I was giving particularly good exposition, and she interrupted me to hand another player at the table a dice bag she made. I don't remember it, but I absolutely believe this happened.)
The day of "the incident", she had a meltdown about how a friend of hers had ghosted her. I told her it was okay, she was much younger anyway and people grow apart. She's probably going through stuff and we should respect that path she's on. She cried about how she has no friends.
Also the day of "the incident", we were in the shower together and she told me she had met her sister's new BF on facetime. I asked "why did she break up with her old one?" "Well... she cheated on him." "Oh, that's a shame. Cheating is probably the most cowardly act a person can do to another. If you're going to start a new relationship, you need to grow a pair and end it before starting a new one." She clearly took my words to heart.
One of my biggest pet peeves about cleaning the house is our dog sheds, a lot. If I see a hairball roll through the house it immediately drains me a bit. We had a roomba. She would send that thing home when it started and never start it again. It barely ran. She would not vacuum.
One of the most common descriptors of her I've heard used by many people now that they're "allowed to" is "She was there, doing the thing with us, but it was like she wasn't there."
Something she thought that I apparently hadn't figured out by the time we talked after everything happened was that they had been talking since February. I told her I wasn't stupid and had figured it out already that this wasn't out of the blue.
Z's wife is currently pregnant with the baby of the man she cheated on him with. (And he is also married)
Anything else I remember Ill leave for comments, I know there is much, much more.

My grandmother died in February. I hadn't seen her - or many members of that side of the family - since 2018, the year I got married. After my divorce in 2020, I moved to NYC. I've had a rough past few years, emotionally and financially. My Nana and those relatives spent their time in Florida, Texas, and Alabama (where I am from originally). Whenever I visited my immediate family, the extended family wouldn't be there.
I deeply regret not making the time to see my grandmother before she passed. I grieved her immediately, breaking into tears and weeping for weeks. I contemplated and researched the afterlife. When I texted my dad to ask, "When will the funeral be? Nothing could keep me away", he replied, "5.18.2024."
May 18 is my birthday.
I typed a message asking why my birthday was chosen, but quickly deleted it. I tried to calmly ask my mother privately and she became irritable, yelling at me, "Do not bring this up to your father. He's going through a lot."
I found out over time that because the ground was frozen in Vermont (where my grandmother raised her family before retiring in Florida), and Vermont is where she wanted her ashes to be buried, they had to postpone the funeral. She had seven children who had to pick a date that worked for all of them. But still...my birthday? My dad didn't care to speak up about it being his only daughter's birthday?
Here's the thing: my whole life, I have felt like the least favorite grandchild, niece, cousin, etc. I knew deep down that my grandmother loved me, but it was clear she loved others more. One time she chose to take my cousin to Disney World the same day my family had driven in to visit her. She told my father to come the next day, but he didn't listen, and decided to surprise her instead. She grew irate and rushed to beat us home so we wouldn't find out, but my Grandpa spilled the beans. She could have waited a day to take me and my brother, but didn't. We never went to Disney World with her.
She was a devout Catholic her entire life, but rolled her eyes when my eleven-year-old-self - a Southern Baptist at the time - suggested we all pray before we eat dinner. When she and my mother found me sitting alone one day (as a thirteen-year-old), I told them I was contemplating my future, and whether I could get into Harvard or travel to Europe. She burst out laughing as if that was the most hilarious joke ever told. (She never got a degree or worked.)
I've been writing creatively since childhood, but she always told me I needed a "real career" and I couldn't dream about becoming a writer. I have been tall and thin my whole life. When I began modeling, she said, "Modeling is not for you." She showered my cousins in praise and validation and gifts. She sent me gifts and cards, don't get me wrong, but the difference in quality was obvious. She scolded me over things my cousins got away with easily.
I loved my grandmother. I love my parents. I didn't want to hurt my dad so I kept my feelings inside and told myself my birthday was not important. But then my fiance and I went to dinner a week early to celebrate, and my parents didn't even wish me a happy birthday. They didn't send a card. I asked why. My mother replied, "Isn't your birthday next Saturday? We'll celebrate you on May 20 when we are all together in your city."
After she said this, it sunk in for me that they never intended to even acknowledge me at all on my birthday. So I changed my return flight from the 19th to the 18th. I asked my dad if he could drive me to the airport on my birthday after the funeral, and he said no because he had to "spend time with family." So I secured a rental car. I would now fly from Vermont to Detroit and finally return home to NYC at midnight on my birthday.
I have lived in NYC for four years, and for four years, my parents have made excuse after excuse not to visit me. I had to beg my dad to agree to visit me in NYC on their drive back from Vermont to Alabama, which he didn't want to do. He didn't want to drive into NYC to pick me up either. Originally my parents were supposed to pick me up from the train station in New Jersey this Thursday, and I would fly back home on the 19th, and they would FINALLY visit me in Manhattan on the 20th. It was all set. I was looking forward to exploring my dad's home town with him and spending some quality time together a few days before the funeral. Then out of the blue, my mom insisted I fly in on Friday instead, under the guise of saving my PTO. But really they just wanted to get to Vermont sooner. I told my dad this hurt my feelings, that I had been looking forward to spending private time with my parents in his hometown.
Today I called them and asked for help covering my Ubers to and from the airports. I'm living paycheck to paycheck, and they know this. Nana's will insisted that her estate would cover everyone's accommodations at her funeral, and I was originally told that I would get my own hotel room. Then I found out that I would be sharing a house with my parents and multiple relatives who were part of the original discussion to plan the funeral on my birthday. That didn't sit right with me. I wanted to go for my Nana and my dad. I didn't want to have to stay in the same house as people who don't care about me.
I finally told my dad today how I feel, on speaker phone while he and my mom were driving across the country towards Vermont. I said I couldn't believe they planned Nana's funeral on my birthday, when they had months to plan for any other date. I told him how my mother wouldn't let me express my feelings to him everytime I tried to calmly ask why, why MY birthday, of all the birthdays in the family? Why did it have to be on anyone's birthday? I said this has been a recurring theme all my life, that nobody in this family cares about me. He replied, "Don't come. If that's how you feel, don't come."
So now I am crying and wondering if I should cancel my flights and rental car, and miss out on my Nana's funeral, or just go, despite the fact that nobody wants me there...and based on their choice of date, maybe they never did.
TL;DR: My relatives planned my grandmother's funeral months in advance on my birthday. I told my parents this made me feel unloved and my dad told me to not come to the funeral if that's how I feel.

I have a 401(k) and 457 held by former employer plan administrator (Voya Financial). Am I able to roll over these funds to my Fidelity Roth IRA?

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

This is my first post here, sorry if it’s long.
I (20F) have been diagnosed with hypothyroidism since I was 8. I have never been able to lose weight, and am now to over 300 lbs to my last knowledge, as I don’t like to look at that number since it only makes me feel worse.
Recently I went to my family doctor that I haven’t been to in a while to get bloodwork done before my insurance runs out on my 21st birthday (which is tomorrow). Results are as follows:
TSH: 22.45 T4: 0.9 T3: 132
I was on 88mcg from the time I was diagnosed till about last year when the endocrinologist i have been going to for 11 years upped it to 112mcg. I had been telling them for over 10 years that I didn’t feel normal, but they ignored me until then. After that appointment they told me to find a new endocrinologist since I am no longer a child.
Then last year again, I went into an inpatient where they did lab tests after being admitted and they let me know my levels were still low and started giving me 125mcg, only for them to not prescribe it to me after I was out (long off topic story). Meaning, I was still taking 112mcg.
That leads me to now, after my lab results from my family doctor, she prescribed me 150mcg. I have started taking it properly, I wake up at 6am to take my levothyroxine only, take my vitamins more than 4 hours after, move my body, and Im not going to sit here and act like I eat great. I don’t. In fact as I am writing this I haven’t eaten and it’s almost 7pm.
My eating habits are bad, and I already know that. I don’t eat what I should, but I am trying to change it. Had a whole talk with my doctor about where to start and have started implementing what we talked about in my daily life.
I am just worried that I am getting no where in regard to getting better. I look at the posts on here and people are saying their tsh is as low as 0.1-0.4 and here I am with 22.45. I feel as if the endocrinologist I went to since childhood screwed me over for a decade, not listening, not caring, or just not believing me.
I just wanted to see what people had to say here, as you guys seem to know more than I do.

Signed up when my wife gave birth. It's like a life insurance plan wrapped in an RESP. The MER is insane at 3.6. Seems like a huge rip off after I started learning basic investing. The surrender fee is like $1800. I'm thinking it's best to just cough up the surrender fee, transfer the funds to an RESP with one of the big banks and self direct the funds into an ETF. My thinking is that my kid is 4 leaving me with 13-14 years to make up the surrender fee and more. The fund the IA resp uses is crappy too. Poor performance thus far and the MER is just the shitty cherry on top. Any feedback appreciated.

Uncertain if some laws have been broken in my case. They say its too "high profile." The story is I publicly urinated in Whitefish Montana at 2:30am on a Friday night in 2021 downtown. It was in some tall grass next to a parking garage a block away from a noodle stand I patroned. There were no restrooms.
A city cop pulled into the parking garage afterwards and interrogated me at the elevator in the parking garage. My Passport was in my car on the third floor, so when he demanded my ID for a second time, I verbally pivoted and asked if he had been watching me and if he had his lights on insinuating entrapment. At this point he escalated to use of force and threw me to the ground and turned his body cam off as my body hit the ground. The parking garage video picks up him backing me up and throwing me to the ground. I gain control until some guys get involved where I give up and he tazes me from underneath me simultanious with the person rolling me off. He gets up, I lay flat, and then he neals down and starts tazing me.
I went to the trial in December 2022 with a public defender and the officer lied about tazing me on the ground and was convicted of assault on a peace officer, while I was out on bond before my trial, the prosecutor recommended I immediately go back to jail. My sentencing was delayed two extra months. My probation summary investigation had many inaccuracies about my criminal past including saying I was a multiple violent criminal, and multiple drug and alcohol offender. I spent a year in the former regional prison that was converted to a private prison that usually sends people too pre-release, but under few circumstances assessed for parole.
I got out two months ago and worried that any officer can arrest me for questionable infractions and quickly escalate to use of force, where my life is in danger, and/or lead to another quick trip back to prison. How can I find a lawyer that will work with me? This is a very emotional hard topic for me. It sucks rehashing it over and over and getting denied service over and over.
My first time posting here. Apologise if my format is incorrect.