Turning adderall into meth

I feel very dejected. I've been struggling with severe acne for years now. In short, because of it, people treat me awfully. People in support groups will often say that people don't really care about acne but it's very much not true. Almost everyone I meet goes out of their way to make me feel gross. People either look away from me or give me disgusted stares. I've been told directly to my face without shame "why do you look the way you do?" and "what's wrong with you, are you on meth?" among many other awful things. People assume if you're an adult with acne there must be something wrong with you and only teens can have acne. And I guess it's true, because I never see other adults with acne. Not even at the beach or gym where no one wears makeup. I genuinely cannot remember the last time I saw an adult with acne except myself.
I'm trying so hard, and it just hurts knowing no matter how hard I try people will still think I'm lazy and dirty. I put so much effort into washing my face and making sure everything that comes in contact with my face is clean, to the point I freak out if someone like the doctor or hairdresser touches my face. I have been on so many medications but they only make it worse. It hurts when I see people say "it gets worse before it gets better," but then it turns out even after years on a medication, it never does get better. I'm going on what my doctor is calling my "last resort" (accutane) and I don't know what I'll do if it doesn't work. If it doesn't work I just guess I'll never be treated like I used to be when my skin was actually normal. I don't know how to cope with my worth being dependent on something I can't control.
I just want to be treated like a person.

This is all I know, here you go. I know this looks ridiculous and hypochondriac but it's not. They throw anti-psychotics at people for depression now so, it's best to avoid psychiatry.

1. Psych meds. (1. Anti-psychotics and then 2. SSRI'S)
   
   1. Benzodiazepines (mixing that with alcohol can give you permanent brain damage/kill you. Quitting cold turkey can kill you.)
2. Cipro(Fluoroquinolones) floxies. Fluoroquinolones toxicity is crazy people talking about their muscle exploding and then not being able to walk for months/years.
   

https://youtu.be/oqxSsG-J8jA?si=Ni7GZLKyVY6bjCQY

1. Lionsmane mushroom lionsmanerecovery. This is what put me on psychiatric meds. It can change you mentally for months. If you don't freak out and just sleep you'll be back to normal. Eventually you come back might take a year or two years u/ciudadvenus ask him how long it took him to be recovered from the negative effects of it. Never mix this with psychoactives or overdose. You'll go crazy 100% .
   
2. Meth ( a lot of people say your brain can't recover a lot say, I have my doubts though)
   
3. Tick bites can turn into lyme disease which untreated can cause psychiatric disorders.
   
4. Minoxdoxil, Finasteride any 5-ar inhibitor they cause post Finasteride syndrome which is terrible. Just search it up.
   
5. Abusive family members especially parents (narcissist, bullies) they can lead you to psychiatry so if they ever mention psychiatry just be careful because they most likely will put it in your food so if you feel weird after eating /drinking something just run you only got hit with one dose just get a blood test done to have proof. You have to be vigilant because they will provoke you. Also they usually act immature to provoke you and get on your nerves. They use to get people lobotomized when they were upset with them but now they use psych medication. And all they got to do is tell police some story the cops are going to take you to where they force medication on you. They have power over you/you cannot get away from them. Watch out. Psychiatry is in rehabilitation centers, foster care etc. In nursing homes they give people pills. Make sure to ask any type of group home/rehabilitation center if they're going to force medication on you. A school psychiatrist can diagnose you with a disorder so it's better you don't go to them if they ask you to. They stay on your medical record for life I believe.
   
6. K2 /Spice will make you psychotic, synthetic weed will make you psychotic.
   
7. Sniffing sharpies, paint, gasoline they can stop oxygen from reaching your brain.
   
8. Whippets can kill braincells allegedly. I've seen someone on Reddit say it made them a little slow due to heavy use of it.
   
9. Cannabis induced psychosis from THC vapes / too much edibles ( you recover, it takes time)
   
10. Therapists are mandated reporters and can hospitalize you.
    
11. Voluntarily going in to the hospital for "help" can turn involuntary hold if the doctor goes to a judge.They side with doctor most of the time.
    

More information: Withdrawing from benadryl can cause auditory hallucinations/ psychosis if you taper off it too fast. Benzo withdrawal can cause psychosis too. Too much vitamin B6 can cause peripheral nerve damage too. Supplements can be dangerous too, normal food provide nutrition but don't boost levels of specific things too high usually.
A lot of us are pretty much done from psych meds or recovering. This is what I learned in my life time that I'm sharing with you. Lion's mane is much, much more powerful then people think it is. A potent tincture form is just asking for trouble, never buy that. Don't use it sublingually it bypasses liver enzymes which helps regulate how much of the medicine hits your brain. A pill you're most likely safe from the crazy negative reactions that people have for years. Ask u/ciudadvenus. A pill is the intelligent way to ingest lion's mane. Or if you use a tincture put in food, tincture under your tongue is a big no no. I wouldn't mess with that stupid lion's mane shit frankly, I'm really only saying this because lion's mane is dangerous but I don't want to look crazy and say don't touch it all because it's not widely known to be dangerous and I want to be respectable by looking level headed. I use to wonder why mental hospitals have so many people and are still open, but now I know why. It's because psychiatry is literally everywhere (school, people saying go seek help constantly), having a mental breakdown/reaction to trauma is seen as mental illness, genetics or drug induced. Eh. I see why people say don't do drugs ☹️. Man fuck drugs man. I just had to do that stupid dumbass shit called lionsmane. Man... Oh well. I'm warning others now. That specific fungi is a mothefucker... be careful with lionsmane.

I slept in this morning, so no adderall because the last thing I need tonight is insomnia. Just now taking the other med at 3:30 pm because it sucks to try on an empty stomach.
Normally I'm the type that can chuck a frozen pork-chop into a running frying-pan and leave the kitchen without it being a disaster.
Today I wanted "we have too much in the freezer" curry. Some red and yellow peppers from a few seasons ago, some diced onions from winter, half of a diced eggplant from last fall, the rice was cooked in old turkey-broth from two years ago, and I threw crinkle-cut carrots in. (I managed to get the veggies thawed and dried-out in the frying-pan just fine, somehow. I almost messed-up the rice-math, but I caught it.) Mom picked out the jar of sauce.
The part I had trouble with, other than asking mom to supervise me pulling ingredients out to make sure she'd like it, was that I got impatient and tried to double-boiler thaw things. I found my phone in yesterday's pant, pocket, narrated putting my wallet on my desk and my keys on the key-rack, and then remembered that I wanted to set a five-minute timer to turn the stove off. (Why I didn't use the stove timer or the mechanical one magnetized to the fridge is a mystery.)
My phone was at 38% and I didn't want to grab the cable from my bedroom. USB adapter was in the power-strip next to the couch, but the cable in the side-table was just a few inches. After the timer went off, I set a new one for two hours and told my mom it was because I stuck my phone under the couch. (It went off while I was typing, fully-charged so I put the cable and charger back in the side-table for next time the flashlights need charging.)
I decided that it was a no-streaming day. I couldn't find Inside Out, so I decided on Firefly and had to ask mom to get me disc one because my eyes aren't working well today. (More like I don't have the patience to cope with it.) Also I had to have her open the DVD-tray with the remote because the buttons weren't cooperating. After ignoring two discs of Firefly, I put in Disney's Dinosaur and almost pulled it back out to switch to Atlantis because of the ads that it was going to come out in theaters in 2001. Man DVD-tech is as wonky as dealing with a Win95 computer. Now to see if that newer-to-us copy of Night at the Smithsonian has a fatal-scratch that's worse than our old copy. (I put a postie in the bad one's case!)
My task for today was to put some of my boxes into my oubliette to make room for me to put boxes from mom's sewing-room into my art space. The shelves were wrong in my oubliette, but I wisely decided to just work around it instead of messing with it. Mom's success is to not worry about knowing where her boxes are because I will give them back when she can put them back into her sewing-room.
(Don't shame me about being an adult and living with my mom. I buy groceries, I cook, and I move stuff like the air-conditioners.)

I (27F) got sober in 2016, at 19 years old, after a DUI. At the time I was waking up daily with baileys in my coffee or a beer on the porch, and nearly finishing a liter of vodka by the end of the day. I saw the path I was going down and wanted a fresh start. I had the option after the DUI: stay a week at a rehab-type facility for people who got DUI charges to learn about sobriety and the dangers of alcohol, or lose my license for a year, and of course I chose the former. I figured if I can stay sober for a week there I can just stop all together. I cut up my fake ID and told my roommate (big party guy with bum friends who passed out on our couch every night) he had to move out. I was lucky enough to get the Vivitrol injection from my doctor which literally was a magic shot that got rid of any cravings entirely. I used it for the first 4 months sober, I felt like a normal person and never thought about alcohol.
My first few months sober I leaned really hard into video games. I guess I wasn’t fully sober until April 2017, at first I was using adderall to stay up and play all day and all night, but wouldn’t consider that nearly as abusive as alcohol, as it was a very low dose, though the withdrawals were actually worse for me from the adderall when I quit. I was enrolled in one class in college but barely going. Luckily I had made a friend on twitter that lived around the block about a year prior. He was ~4 years older than me and 100% sober by choice, he had never touched alcohol in his life and only smoked weed for a small bit in highschool. He saw me messy blackout drunk for a year and always still wanted to be my friend. He was the light of any room he went into, so much fun and joyful and just witty and enticing. We became inseparable as friends, I formed a massive crush on him, and we started dating exactly a year into my sobriety. I joined his church that was super traditional but at the time I was vulnerable and it made sense. We did everything together.
We started a very successful business together in 2018 and got married in 2020, 2 weeks before lock down. Eloped in our pastors living room. Covid happened and he fell super mentally unstable. A lot of narcissistic and controlling traits came out. He was afraid to leave the house up until 2023 because his anxiety was so bad. He would get mad at me saying I didn’t love him when I would go out to do things without him, so I isolated myself for years. He started telling me these insane things the pastor at our church told him and I had kind of stepped back from believing the same things as him. I became a caretaker for him and his mental health, while also being a business owner and operator, life was so overwhelming. He was just straight up mean to me. We had a lot of issues at home after Covid.
June 2023 I went on a trip to the lake with my family. Part of my husbands issues were that he couldn’t sleep anywhere that wasn’t his own bedroom. Very ritualistic around sleep. He’s never flown on a plane. Doesn’t do vacations. Lives a very small life. I knew by this point I wanted to divorce him, I just didn’t know how. I ended up drinking on this trip. My family knew about my sobriety but didn’t know I drank. I was nervous to tell them and didn’t for a few weeks after. I was determined to learn moderation.
After the trip, I spent the next month hiding my alcohol use. Wine cans in the back of the closet, grabbing a drink on my way home from work alone, etc. and finally I told my husband about half way through July. He was angry but willing to work through it. A lot happened in the meantime, but by August 5th we were separated, October 25th I quit our business and we were officially divorced as of January this year.
In August, the same week I moved out of my marital home, I reconnected totally out of the blue with a close friend from highschool. She bartends in the city and brought me out with her. Life took off for me- I have made an entire new community of friends (some are just drinking buddies? Some are good friends). I hadn’t had a new friend in years and this filled a massive hole for me. I’m happier with my life in every way now, besides the consequences of my drinking habits.
I partied all fall, all winter and all spring. Running from the pain that marriage and separation caused me. I was unemployed for 3 months, then got a couple of serving jobs where I drank all day at work, too. I’ve wasted all of my spare money on ubers and drinks and drunk food. I’ve gained nearly 20 pounds and my skin looks terrible. Im not nice to my boyfriend (who happens to be a bartender) when I drink and that really bothers me as he’s a really great man. A short stent with harder drugs made me lose a ton of hair. I’ve woken up after so many nights out or long weekend benders always wanting to stop, saying I’ll stop for good, just to forget come the next weekend around. I tell my boyfriend I want to stop, it’s just so hard with the social life that we have. Even when I’m meaning to just come up to his bar for a glass or two of wine, it turns into a full night out with his coworkers and managers and friends because when the ball gets rolling I cannot stop it. Soberly, I know I can no longer afford this, mentally, physically or financially. I love my new big expansive life but not the damage alcohol is doing to it.
Thankfully, I have a new job now that doesn’t require me to be around alcohol. My bills are paid and I have all the means to stay sober as long as I can stay focused on what I truly want (health, wealth, not to wake up hungover hating myself) and not be swayed by the temptation. I’d love to hear anyone’s advice for being social and not drinking as that’s the hardest part for me.
Today is day 2, IWNDWYT!

In the business of receiving donations as all cults do requires a certain mind set. In Utah towns such as St George, Hurricane, La Verkin, Colorado City and Toquerville, this mind set always follows the same type of function as it requires one to be filled full of judgement and hate towards anyone who isn't part of the Mormon cult-club or is of a darker skin color as the Mormons are extremely openly racist/no filter what so ever.
I asked a normal Christian preacher one day, what is the point of Christianity? His answer was to be as "Jesus like" as possible. I read the bible to see what sourcerer-Jesus was trying to get across and found 10 very simple commandments/rules to follow. What I understood from the bible is that since Jesus practiced magick/sorcery, if one could follow these simple rules would in turn create the same peace loving resonance in their own lives. The same message found in all paths to enlightenment. The most important of those instructions was to "Love thy enemy", and my personal favorite "thou shalt not murder". If this is what is a Christ like person is supposed to be like, and these are the instructions given in every bible, then why are the Mormons so openly racist and have no problem murdering/slaughtering/massacring Native tribes and even their own kind for land and riches?
The psychological mind snares that are required to allow a cult to function are all based in fear. Fear is the fuel to the fire that keeps the Mormon religion going. Fear if put in the right context will make anyone do whatever the cult leaders tell them to by simply scaring them into action.
Owning guns: As long as the people agree that there is a threat from the outside creates a fear that is willing to pull a gun on any supposed threats to them in an instant. These individuals become mentally unstable while owning many fire arms as Mormon's live in constant fear as the idea of easily pulling a trigger will solve all of their problems as it did in the past, not realizing we live in the now times where it isn't as easy to get rid of dead bodies as it used to be.
The Mormons point of view: We are pioneers who settled an un-tamed land. Lie
Reality: We are all gun owning racists addicted to free-base Meth Amphetamine and alcohol who are here on Native American Tribal territories to steal the land while murdering and raping whoever gets in our way. Truth

To preface this, I want to make it clear that I’m trying to come across as respectful as possible in this post. While I have issues with my own homosexuality, I don’t want it to come across like I have any judgement for anyone here who is gay.
But to get straight to the point, my relationship with my homosexuality is ruining my life and I don’t know what to do. For some backstory, I realized I liked the same sex around the age of 12. This was a few years after I experienced sexual abuse at the hands of someone of the same sex (he was in his late pre-teens) and it was the same year I discovered both gay porn and gay media (ex: I was on Tumblr which was very gay-centric, I watched shows like Glee and Queer As Folk, I went on online chatrooms with a lot of gay people present etc). I 100% believe that experiencing sexual abuse from the same sex as a child coupled with an exposure to gay pornography and gay media served as the catalyst for my homosexuality developing, and as I got older, all my attraction and interest in women quickly vanished in the blink of an eye. In the past few years, I’ve tried forcing myself to sleep with women and dated women in attempt to get rid of my homosexuality or at least switch it to bisexuality but it’s been to no avail.
At this point, I consider my homosexuality to be akin to a paraphilic condition or a trauma response that was later hardwired into me rather than just something that came about naturally. There’s a lot of debate surrounding homosexuality and if it stems from environmental factors, biological factors (ex: something going wrong in utero during the mother’s pregnancy or the “birth order” theory), or a mix of both - I personally think it can develop from many things and don’t agree with the notion that it’s a choice given that no one would choose to face persecution and discrimination. I’m unsure where homosexuality comes from and how it develops, but in my case, I don’t think it happened naturally.
It goes without saying that the life of a homosexual is hard and I believe it to be the main reason as to why I have many issues:
If I wasn’t gay, I wouldn’t have been put in multiple sexual situations where I couldn’t consent. As I started becoming sexually active, I experienced multiple instances of rape by either being overpowered, drugged, or taken advantage of when I was ineberated. It has happened too many times to count and honestly messed with not only my psyche but also my relationship with sex. While I know that it’s possible for men to be sexually assaulted by women, it is much less common than male-on-male rape, so I know I most likely would’ve avoided being raped if I was a heterosexual. My experiences with rape have also given me a strong aversion to anal and being a “side” (re: not liking topping or bottoming) cuts my potential dating and sex pool in half given that most gay men want anal.
If I wasn’t gay, I wouldn’t have developed such deep insecurities for my outer-self given that the beauty standards and unspoken hierarchy/food chain aspect of the gay community is the reason why I’ve always struggled with my confidence. I know that a lot of heterosexuals struggle with their appearance and confidence too and I’m not negating that, but more-so saying that the dynamics in the gay community are a little bit different and the root of why I struggle so much with that aspect of myself.
If I wasn’t gay, I wouldn’t have put myself in sexual situations that traumatized me. I lost my virginity at 17 to a guy in his mid-30s but was told that’s normal for gay men (unfortunately, it very much is) and to get over it, but I have frequent nightmares over how I was taken advantage of to the point where I have to take medication to prevent night terrors and have frequent physical PTSD symptoms. If I was heterosexual, I wouldn’t have put myself in environments where I was drunk as hell in bathhouses having men older than my father lusting after me while I watched them do gross stuff to each other. I know that it’s my own fault that I put myself in those situations, but I know if I didn’t develop homosexual feelings I could’ve avoided all that.
If I wasn’t gay, I doubt I would’ve gotten so addicted to drugs and alcohol. While addiction runs in my family and I was always genetically dispositioned to developing one, being in the gay community definitely heightened my addictions and made them worse. Meth, molly/MDMA, and GHB are all drugs that run rampant in the gay community and being in gay spaces made me use them constantly. I’m sure I could’ve developed an addiction to drugs and alcohol if I was straight, but being in the gay circuit scene gave me easier access to them.
The past few weeks have just been really difficult after I started questioning if my homosexuality developed “naturally” or if it stemmed from facing sexual abuse as a child combined with exposure to gay porn and gay media. The scary thing is I just don’t know what to do about it. I can’t go to either of my parents about it because they won’t even bother to hear me out and just tell me to get over it (for some context, my sister is also gay and they support her). I can’t go to my friends about it given that most of them are gay and would look at me crazy and just say this is internalized homophobia (which is true, but at least I have enough self awareness to recognize it).
I just feel lost. So so lost and I don’t know what to do. I’ve been experiencing passive suicidal thoughts over the way I am and I can’t make them go away. My recent struggles with my homosexuality have done severe damage to both my mental and physical health. I almost relapsed with self-harm after being clean for four months. I’ve been staying up until 9am every night crying and have inadvertently been refusing to get out of bed or go outside or communicate with my family because my mind just feels so screwed up. I haven’t even spoken to most of my gay friends or even my sister for that matter because I feel like even the mere aspect of communicating with them makes me realize that they haven’t let their homosexuality ruin their lives the same way I have and that makes me feel like such a bad person. I can’t even find it in me to take a shower, take my medication, brush my teeth, or eat anymore. I feel like these emotions are just weighing me down and turning me into a shell of my former self.
I would love to accept myself and come to terms with my homosexuality, but I don’t want to continue to be gay given that it makes my life so much harder, but the thing is, I can’t ever picture myself with a woman either. I would feel like such a bad person if I decided to pursue something serious with a woman and then have to lie and convince her that I have romantic and sexual feelings for her when I only have them for men. I don’t want to have to settle for a life of celibacy because that sounds really depressing to me and I don’t want to be alone. I want to experience genuine love and happiness from someone after so much years of abuse and personal turmoil. I just don’t know what to do and feel really lost.

I have a friend who’s in her late 40’s. Pretty much every conversation we have now she sprinkles in comments from these red pill YouTubers talking about women belong at home and should just be wives and mothers. This is coming from a woman who use to work, she was married 4 times, her last marriage ended up terribly (he turned out to be a meth addict that hated working). Now she’s trying to get with this older man who will take care of her and her daughter(into a potentially dangerous situation I think he’s an alcoholic and it’s moving very fast). It can be very negative speaking to her and she’s always putting down women or feminists. I lost my mom to qanon ideology and now this it sucks.
Any debating points with her she will listen to but I will basically be mocked when I mention the content is toxic and meant to drive men and women apart. I know a lot of guys here have been sucked into the red pill content but how about women?

You. Me. Gas station. What are we getting for dinner? Sushi of course. Uh oh! There was a roofie in our gas station sushi. We black out and wake up in a sewer surrounded by fish. Horny fish. You know what that means. Fish orgy. The stench draws in a bear. What do we do? We're gonna fight it. Bear fight. Bare handed Bare, naked? Oh, yes please. We befriend the bear after we beat it in a brawl and ride it into a Chuck E. Cheese. Dance Dance Revolution. Revolution? Overthrow the government? Uh, I think so. Next thing you know, I'm reincarnated as jet. Then I fly into the sun, black out again, wake up, do a bump, white out, which I didn't even know you could do. Then I smoked a joint, greened out. Then I turn into the sun. Uh oh! Looks like the meth is kicking in. aklfhaofhasfahfakh AAAAAAAAA afahfioahfIkf AAAAA

Does anyone else find they can only keep all the wheels spinning for 6-8 weeks and then struggle for 3+ months to get back in the groove? What helps you get back on track faster? March and April I was able to do 30 min yoga in the morning, go for a walk after each meal, drink enough water, meal prep for the week, do one critical thing, and go to bed on time. Then I pinched my sciatic nerve and took a rest break for a week. That week turned into 5 like overnight as I am struggling to get back into it. I take Adderall XR 5 days a week, two days off as rest days. Meds and supplements haven’t changed. I use a fitness tracker. I don’t feel like my mood or general happiness is any different… It just feels like I can’t get my brain up to stand up and go for a walk. A couple of months ago it was easy. How do I turn this around? Is it just ADHD?

Forgive me, Reddit, for I have rage. It has been one year since my last rant.
My SIL is the poster child for bad decision making. Her life story reads like a how-to in self-destruction. There’s so much I’m not even sure I’m gonna be able to remember it all or the timeline. At this point, it’s actually a little impressive how she keeps finding new lows. For anyone who gives enough shits, and has the extra 5 minutes to kill, I recommend going to my profile and reading the first post so things make more sense but I understand that not everyone has that level of time and give a damn so I’ll try to add relevant details although they may lack some context. For now, buckle up and let’s go.
Last I ranted, my SIL had lost custody of her daughter and was effectively homeless. I can already hear someone saying “This is our starting point??” Patience, my friend, it’s gonna get worse.
So she’s hopping between the couches of different friends and associates but she’s running out of people. Nevermind that my husband and I had been begging her to get her son and come live with us. Her son was living with the bio-dad’s cousin. I initially thought it was a sister, but it’s a cousin. Anyway. SIL spends most of that time not answering our calls and wouldn’t give us the cousin’s number so we couldn’t keep contact with our nephew.
If I remember correctly, she was mostly radio silent until she eventually reached out to ask for money cuz she still didn’t have a job and was officially homeless and living in a tent somewhere. Again my husband begged her to come live with us. Nope, she’d rather be homeless in a tent somewhere. Probably because she was reunited with the guy she’d been with. They hadn’t been able to couch surf together. Let’s call this guy…Gramps as he’s something like 20+ years older than her. Gramps is similarly unemployed and has a multi-page arrest record that includes a felony conviction which makes it near impossible for him to get a job not that he has many marketable skills since he’s spent about 1/2 of his adult life in prison.
My husband and I tried at that point to get custody of our nephew but all the lawyers we talked to said we didn’t have a good case since the kid was voluntarily placed in the care of an adult who, as far as we knew, could provide for basic needs and wasn’t abusive.
That was the status quo for a bit until SIL told us she’d managed to get an apartment at a cheap price. She showed us the place over a video call and it was bad. That place was not habitable and should never have been offered to them. It wasn’t in a good part of town, the flooring was damaged or missing everywhere, the windows didn’t shut right or lock, the bathroom didn’t entirely work, there were holes in the walls…I could go on but you get the point. My husband pointed out that it wasn’t habitable and, cheap as it was, she wasn’t going to be able to afford that place for long with no real income and told her she rushed in too quick. “No, no it’s fine. We’ll figure it out.” Yeah, sure you will. At this point, she still won’t give us the cousin’s number and she’s almost never with her son so we’d barely been able to talk to him in ages.
Somewhere in the mix she had a job and lost it cuz she would just sleep and not show up. Very confident that it related to drug use. Not long after that, she tells us she’s engaged and they’re planning a wedding. She and my husband get into it because she wants him to give her away and he doesn’t think the wedding is a good idea plus he really doesn’t like Gramps. He doesn’t tell her that last part though cuz there’s no such thing as a private call with just her. Gramps is always around. We’ll be talking to SIL and all of a sudden he’s chiming in from the peanut gallery. And it’s never anything useful either! He speaks and it’s like “is the coherent thought in the room with us?” It’s become increasingly difficult to not snap at him to shut up and butt out.
I tell my husband that I’m sorry but I cannot go to that farce of a wedding and pretend that I’m not screaming objections. Turns out it was for the best because just hearing about it tested my self control. My husband, and a family friend, arrived early and went to say a quick hello at SIL’s apartment before getting something to eat before the ceremony. My husband said the place reeked of weed and was so smoky it was hard to breathe and that our nephew was just sitting there alone among the smoke while everyone was getting ready. He offered to take our nephew along to get some food but SIL said no he needed to stay. Why? No idea. Gramps, completely unprompted, pointed out their utterly destroyed microwave saying “oh ignore the microwave, I got mad the other day”. Say what? Yep, he got mad and took a bat to the microwave. Cuz that’s normal. They had the ceremony on a Sunday evening in the fall at a bridge in a local park. Let me paint you a picture:
The park had no lights, and its pitch black, so the poor pastor they convinced to marry them had to read his notes under the light of someone’s cell phone. A path had been made from the bridge to the pastor using various empty alcohol bottles with glow sticks in them. That part I’m told looked cute. My husband had decided that he couldn’t give SIL away like she’d asked so Gramps’ ex-wife walked her down the “aisle” to some heavy metal song that started with growly/screamo lyrics. My SIL was wearing a black dress, black boots, black veil, and dark make-up and carrying a sword. She looked like she was in a trance with this big smile on her face. Gramps was wearing a tracksuit with a pattern of skulls and insane looking clowns all over it and was holding an axe. He spent the entire ceremony swaying and fidgeting and waving that axe around. Her vows were really random, didn’t say much, and were laden with profanity. We have no idea what his were cuz he was entirely unintelligible. The pastor, no doubt, was questioning every life decision that lead him to this point and was clearly trying to wrap this up as soon as possible which was good because it was cold and our nephew had been brought to the park with no coat. My husband gave him his. We found out later that both SIL and Gramps had taken psychedelics shortly before the ceremony.
Shortly after new years, SIL suddenly texts my husband and asks if his offer is still good. If they can come live with us. I call massive sus and tell him to find out why now after years of us begging and her rejecting that she finally wants to take the offer. She tells us that she’s getting evicted because they haven’t been able to pay rent and that they have to be out in one week. Shocking, I know. It’s almost like we’d told her that this would happen. This unfortunately was just weeks after I’d been laid off from my job so, after discussing it, he had to tell her it wasn’t possible. She got upset and demanded to know why not when she was finally accepting. He laid it out for her:

1. We weren’t exactly rolling in it to start with and my being laid off was a massive hit to our finances and we didn’t know how long it would take for me to get a new job (answer: it would take 4 more months).
2. They wouldn’t have jobs right away and we couldn’t afford to support three extra people. Not to mention-
3. That she might be able to get some kind of retail job around here but that wasn’t going to cover much and Gramps wasn’t gonna have any better luck here than he did out there. So their ability to help us out or make any kind of financial headway was basically nil.
4. If it was just her and our nephew, that’d be one thing, but not Gramps. We hardly know anything about Gramps and what little we do know, we don’t like. We didn’t trust him in our home and certainly not our son.
5. We know they do some kind of drugs. We don’t care about weed, but psychedelics and meth and who knows what else? No.

What was SIL’s response? “But it wouldn’t be that much, it would just be the two of us.” You mean you and our nephew? “No, me and Gramps.” I beg your finest pardon? Yeah she intended to bring her useless sack of a new husband and leave her son behind. We were beyond floored. Anyone who went and read my last rant about her knows exactly why. From what I understand, after we said no, they just squatted and refused to leave for a while until they weren’t eventually removed and then were homeless again until more recently when she told us someone gave them a trailer. Their plan was to fix it up enough to be street legal, get a car to tow it somehow, and move what was initially Maryland but then turned to Florida. For a fresh start. And cuz “it’s cheaper there”. And Gramps’ record prevents him from getting a job here (as if background checks are just local). And once they get settled they’ll send for our nephew and also our niece. Our niece who she hasn’t spoken to more than a handful of times this year, who considers her a disappointment, and like a distant relative she’s not close to, and who doesn’t really want anything to do with her. All that was straight from the horses mouth btw, not conjecture. We knew it was all a pipe dream so, whatever, dream away.
Recently, SIL called my husband and informed him that she and Gramps fled the state and aren’t planning to come back any time soon. Turns out she has warrants and someone called in her location so she ran cuz being a fugitive was “better than going back to jail.” Ease up, Shawshank, you were locked up in a holding cell for less than a day. They’ve got a tent and a charger cord and that’s about all we know. Gramps was still butting in and repeating the same rhetoric he’s been spewing since the start. “She’s the most important thing to me.” “I’m always thinking of what’s best for her.” “If she don’t eat, I don’t eat.” Shut the fuck up you absolute sack of steaming bullshit. Thank god trees don’t have the sentience to understand how much of their oxygen is wasted every time you open your fucking mouth. You couldn’t provide for your own needs since day 1 so your words carry as much weight as the shriveled mass desperately clinging to life inside your skull.
Thank you to whoever made it this far. Sorry it got pretty long. If it’s any consolation, she finally gave us the cousin’s number and we have plans to video call our nephew tomorrow.

My name is Walter Hartwell White. I live at 308 Negra Arroyo Lane, Albuquerque, New Mexico, 87104. This is my confession. If you're watching this tape, I'm probably dead– murdered by my brother-in-law, Hank Schrader. Hank has been building a meth empire for over a year now, and using me as his chemist. Shortly after my 50th birthday, he asked that I use my chemistry knowledge to cook methamphetamine, which he would then sell using connections that he made through his career with the DEA. I was... astounded. I... I always thought Hank was a very moral man, and I was particularly vulnerable at the time – something he knew and took advantage of. I was reeling from a cancer diagnosis that was poised to bankrupt my family. Hank took me in on a ride-along and showed me just how much money even a small meth operation could make. And I was weak. I didn't want my family to go into financial ruin, so I agreed. Hank had a partner, a businessman named Gustavo Fring. Hank sold me into servitude to this man. And when I tried to quit, Fring threatened my family. I didn't know where to turn. Eventually, Hank and Fring had a falling-out. Things escalated. Fring was able to arrange – uh, I guess... I guess you call it a "hit" – on Hank, and failed, but Hank was seriously injured. And I wound up paying his medical bills, which amounted to a little over $177,000. Upon recovery, Hank was bent on revenge. Working with a man named Hector Salamanca, he plotted to kill Fring. The bomb that he used was built by me, and he gave me no option in it. I have often contemplated suicide, but I'm a coward. I wanted to go to the police, but I was frightened. Hank had risen to become the head of the Albuquerque DEA. To keep me in line, he took my children. For three months, he kept them. My wife had no idea of my criminal activities, and was horrified to learn what I had done. I was in hell. I hated myself for what I had brought upon my family. Recently, I tried once again to quit, and in response, he gave me this. [Walt points to the bruise on his face left by Hank in "Blood Money."] I can't take this anymore. I live in fear every day that Hank will kill me, or worse, hurt my family. All I could think to do was to make this video and hope that the world will finally see this man for what he really is.

So it was a saturday night, I had made plans with my friends to meet up at Erick’s house, we all arrive and we start chatting and playing some videogames, where all of a sudden Erick come bashing into the room with 2 bags of actual Crack Cocaine. We all stared at him and did not say a word. We were all so shocked at this because we never had done anything like that. My friend Erick breaks the silence and says (so we gonna do it or nah??) Everyone laughed and brushed up his comments, though, I actually told him i want to smoke a few hits off the pipe and try it out. Everyone was in disbelief. So I sit there and hit the pipe like 4 times, and the flavour was ROUGH. It was not crack cocaine, it was definitely something al ot more crystal like. Turns out it was meth and i fucking died and then revived and the nurse gave me a blowjob before leaving the hospital.

Long story short, two years ago my husband started using pot again. We've been fighting ever since. Of course, there are little things too as in any marriage and of course, I am not claiming perfection, but I can honestly say it is the root of most of what we fight about. Before the pot, it was video games that took every minute of his life he wasn't at work. That was bad enough. Now he still manages to be busy with pot every free minute. We have 5 kids with special needs so treating me like a single mom most of the time for 9 years isn't cool, not gonna lie. That has caused problems between us by itself for our entire marriage. What is worse, however, is how much the pot affects his attitude. I never know what version of him I am going to get because of all the different products he tries. He might be hyper, he might be super depressed, he might be a mean ass, he might be having a full-blown panic attack. He also gets super grouchy whenever he isn't high. We also fight because the smell gives me bad asthma attacks. I can't even kiss him anymore since his breath always reeks of it. That in turn has hurt our love life a lot. He either accuses me of faking/exaggerating the coughing and wheezing or says it is a coincidence even though it is always obvious what it is because "no one is allergic to pot".
The thing is though he is 100% convinced pot is perfection and everything bad in our life is my fault.
About 6 months AFTER the fighting started my doctor prescribed me Vyvanse for weight loss. It was great because I also benefited from the ADHD effects which I wasn't even expecting. (Some of my kids are diagnosed so it was a neat surprise.) My husband however Googled the side effects, immediately started calling it my "meth" and has been being a jerk about it ever since. He says that it makes me manic and combative and insists that I am completely addicted to it. The "manic" is either me being in a good mood when he is grouchy or me being busy when he is high and/or feeling lazy. The "combative" is just when I am mad at him like a normal wife would be in any normal marriage. He blames all kinds of other side effects on it too that Vyvanse doesn't even cause. The other things are all either directly related to stress or caused by other health problems I have had my entire life. For example: I was diagnosed with essential tremors when I was a kid (he knows this) but now my shaky hands are from the Vyvanse, *eye roll*.
In December my insurance got messed up so I went off all my medication. I finally got everything straightened out in February and went back on my most important medications. Not Vyvanse yet though. Honestly, I was so depressed and embarrassed about how much weight I had gained in December that I couldn't deal with weight loss medications yet. (Going off all your medications cold turkey while fighting with your spouse during the holidays SUCKS!!!! 100% do not recommend 😞) So I didn't even talk to my doctor about it until April and then I was still debating whether or not to get it because of my husband. He was back to going on and on about me having PMS all month long which is annoying as hell but not as bad as he gets about the Vyvanse. Then a couple weeks ago we got into a bad argument and I blew up at him. He decided I was taking Vyvanse again. Every single day after that he started going on and on about how I was l lying and sneaking it because why else would I be mad at him. Finally, I got fed up and told him I was going to fill the prescription since he was convinced I was on it anyway. That was last Saturday.
This week has been a nightmare. All he does is pick fights over this stupid medicine. He gets up in the morning talking about it. He gets home from work talking about it. He goes to bed talking about it. He is mad constantly. He can't seem to get it through his head that HE is the one who is being manic and combative all the time. I try talking to him but he is lost in some delusion. I am over being called a horrible wife and a liar.
He left this morning saying if I didn't get rid of the Vyvanse he was moving out. Now I know there is a whole lotta other crap here. Even just typing this post out is depressing. But AITAH for not just throwing the Vyvanse away to do my part to keep the peace? I'm not addicted to it lol so I could if I wanted to. I even see my doctor on Monday and could ask for something different for weight loss. I feel like I would be giving in to him being a control freak though which I am really having a hard time wanting to do. It is worth mentioning that he asks me constantly to take pot daily like him instead and I refuse.
TL;DR My husband is convinced I have side effects I don't have and wants to divorce me over the medicine. AITAH for not throwing it away to keep the peace.

I know Reddx is trying to move away from neckbeard stories, so I decided to finally submit my short NeckBeard encounter in the hopes that our humble lord Reddx would grace my scribbling with his melodious voice.
A quick warning that this contains attempted schmexual assault.
This story takes place ten years ago, two months after I turned nineteen. I had spent the previous year interning with a well-known horse trainer. (To this day, it's the coolest thing I have ever done.) I left home for the year-long internship a healthy 112lb at 5’1” and returned 105lb. I also had brown hair down to my waist, and my eyes appeared large in my too-thin face, and I was mistaken for 13 or 14 on a regular basis. I think I could have been considered beard-bait
Now, back living with my parents, I needed employment. My options were limited in our small town. I didn’t fancy trying to work at one of the crumbling fast food joints, so I applied for our local cleaning company. Being a maid sounded perfect! It combined my love of cleaning and my intense curiosity in the lives of strangers. I loved the idea of peeking into people`s homes and getting a glimpse of what took place behind twitching curtains.
After convincing the owner that I was indeed an adult and not a small child with a fake ID, I was hired. The owner placed me with two senior maids who we will call, Laverne and Shirley. Lavern and Shirley were former chain-smoking meth Muppets that now resembled shriveled craisins in their mid-forties. They had given up smoking for vaping; specifically, banana nut bread vape.
Laverne and Shirley had one other notable idiosyncrasy. Laverne would say something apropos of nothing, like “yesterday was too sunny for me” and finish the thought with a sing song “♪Ya know♪.” And then Shirley would repeat “♪Ya know♪.” This would continue the whole drive, between puffs of banana nut bread vape. To this day, I can’t hear someone say ‘ya know’ without muttering a ‘♪Ya know♪’ under my breath.
One fateful Tuesday, I pulled into work, hopped out of my 1993 Skylark, and into our cleaning van just like I had done for the past three weeks.
Shirley: Hey there TwatWaffle, we’re goin’ to a new house today. It’ll be our first time there. We might be there longer than usual.
Laverne: Hopefully you packed a good lunch. We can't stop today, ya know
Shirley: ♪ YA know ♪
OP: Oh, cool! I love cleaning new houses. Yeah, I packed lunch.
We were off on a new adventure. The light babbling of Laverne and Shirley’s inane chattering belied the utter horror that waited for me. Laverne turned into a housing development of McMansions, huge houses with two square feet of lawn, all built about five feet apart. We unloaded our equipment, swung open the door, and revealed… a beautiful, almost immaculate home. Sweet, this should be an easy, quick job. We all took a brief tour of the house to snoo- I mean, familiarize ourselves with the layout.
Shirley: The order says downstairs kitchen, bathroom, and living room. Upstairs bathroom and basement bathroom.
OP: Do you know how to get to the basement?
Laverne: No, this is our first time here too ya know
Shirley: ♪Ya know♪
So, we continued to familiarize ourselves by opening every door in the house to find the basement. After opening doors to pantries, bedrooms, closets, and an office, Laverne finally found the door that led to the basement.
Leverne: TwattWaffle! Shirley! Over here!
The door Laverne found opened to cement stairs that disappeared into a dark abyss. Shirley pushed past us and flicked on the light. The stairwell, now illuminated, led to a brightly lit exercise room. We all made our way down and surveyed the numerous and expensive pieces of workout equipment as we wandered deeper into the basement.
The basement was narrow but seemed to run the full length of the house. An opening to another hallway was at the opposite end of the exercise room. The hall was lit by a dull bulb, which cast a yellow light on the awful carpet it oversaw. The center of the carpet was a deep brown, and the edges a sad dusty pink. The carpet’s pile had long since had its will crushed and now laid flat. Stains of all shapes and viscosity made parts of the brown depressed carpet even darker and crustier. To the left were two closed doors; the first door had light leaking out around its poorly fitted frame, and the second was completely dark.
The gym room smelled musty and a little sweaty but nowhere near bile-inducing. However, the smell emanating from the hall threatened to steal my breakfast. Laverne and Shirley stood at the entrance to the hall, not daring to step on the carpet.
Shirley: TwatWaffle go open the first door.
OP: Sure
On tiptoe, I went to the first door, grabbed the greasy knob, turned it, and pushed. A wave of ammonia slapped me like a-pimp-named-slick-back and face fucked my nose raw dawg. I stepped back into the hall, trying to get a fresh-ish breath. But it was too late; opening the door let the full force of rank smell gush into the hall. So, instead, I pulled my shirt over my nose, which acted like a condom against the assault on my olfactory senses.
Leverne and Shirley had been watching, but when I reeled back, they both came forward to chastise me for being dramatic.
Shirley: Come on, it can’t be that… Oh hell
Leverne: Stop being a pus… Fuck me sideways.
The smell had finally wafted to them as they came forward, and they, too, pulled their shirts over their faces.
The three of us stood in the doorway, surveying the horror. A sink to the left is covered in black, something… Mold? Dust? Curiosity made me take a step forward; peering at the sink, I saw hair. Short black hairs, curly black hairs, and long strands of black hair covered the sink in a fine layer. I looked at the ground and saw that it, too, was covered in an assortment of hairs. I willed myself to look up at the mirror which hung over the sink. The mirror was so thickly speckled with white and pinkish spots that I could hardly see my face. My stomach lurched and rolled; I knew too well what those milky spots were from.
Then, I went to the porcelain throne that was once a functional toilet but had become a biohazardous receptacle some time ago. Brown sludge filled the entire bowl. Thick yellow-brown stains colored the outer rim and ran down the base, pooling at the bottom. This sight and the overpowering stench finally got me, and I wretched.
Laverne: OK! I’ll knock out the upstairs pot, Laverne, you start on the kitchen, and I’ll help you when I’m finished. TwatWaffle, get started here.
Spinless people pleasing me croaked
OP: Yeah, okay.
Laverne and Shirley quickly walked away and booked it back upstairs. I went to my cleaning caddy, opened the bottle of bleach, and inhaled deeply. The bleach burnt in my nose, but it also gave me a little relief from the putrid smells gang banging my nose. Next, I pulled on my thick rubber gloves, summoned all the willpower I possessed, and headed back to the toilet. I pushed the handle, hoping to flush the fecal McSlurry, but nothing happened. I took the top off the tank and found that the pull chain had come undone. The chain reattached, I pushed again. Water rushed into the bowl, and the liquid butt fudge began to rise. Sheer panic ripped through my heart as I contemplated having to mop old stagnant shit off the floor. The slurry came level with the rim of the bowl when suddenly I heard a glop glop. Air from the pipes escaped, and slowly, the sewage oozed down the toilet drain and away from the rim of the bowl.
One crisis averted, I decided to start on the sink while the toilet’s tank refilled. It was going to take two or three more flushes to get it all down. I began scrubbing and wiping, letting myself get lost in my own head as I performed the familiar task. After about five minutes of ferocious cleaning, a sound cut into my consciousness—a heavy sort of breathing. I looked up and caught in the mirror a form filling the doorway. I jumped and spun around to face The Thing.
I hastily babbled
OP: Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry. You scared me. Hi, I’m TwatWaffle, I’m here with Local Cleaning Company. Did you need to use this bathroom? I’ll be done shortly if you can wait.
The Thing stood silently, his mass filling the doorway. A light grey shirt with dark stains under each arm struggled and failed to contain the bulk of his abdomen. I could almost hear the cries of agony from the threads of fabric that made up his tortured navy sweatpants, which were being stretched to their limit. The flesh was so abundant on his face that it rendered it almost featureless. Angry red pimples dappled the entire landscape of his skin.
OP: I can step out now, if you can’t wait.
The Thing just stood there, staring. By this time, I had huffed enough bleach that the bathroom smells were bearable. But The Thing’s body odor had Billy Cosby-ed my defenses and was having its way with my piriform cortex. As nonchalantly as possible, I brought my bleached, soaked rag up to my face, like wiping sweat from my brow, and took another whiff of bleach. We stood just staring at each other for a long, awkward minute.
OP: Okay… Well, if you need the bathroom, let me know.
I turned and went back to cleaning. I flushed the toilet for a third time. Now, the toilet water was just cloudy with sediment. I scrubbed at the left-over streaks that had crusted and clung to the bowl. A fourth and final flush had the toilet looking as good as it was ever going to look again.
I might have been looking at this disgusting commode, but all my attention was on the figure lurking in the doorway. As I got on my knees, intent on cleaning up the thick, viscous yellow puddles, I heard The Things breathing increase and then fade. I dared a glance over my shoulder; The Thing was gone.
Finished with the toilet, I turned my attention to the shower. A glance at the drain revealed that, to Ramtides's query, The Thing was a waffle stomper. Clearly, with the toilet out of commission, The Thing had been using the shower to relieve themself. Hair was also sprinkled liberally over it all.
Giving myself a little pep talk.
OP: Okay, I’m almost done. I can do this. I’m almost finis-
Then, from the doorway, a voice gurgled
The Thing: Hello M’lady.
I whip around, slightly less startled this time but twice as confused. The Thing is talking? And it changed clothes? It now wore a black shirt and cargo shorts, which fit him only slightly better than his previous attire.
OP: Hi, Do you need the bathroom now? I’m pretty much finished; just need to wipe down the shower. I fixed the toilet, so it flushes now.
The Thing: Ahh, clever and beautiful. May I know M`lady’s name?
I was a little confused, considering I told him my name about fifteen minutes ago. But then I also struggle remembering names sometimes.
OP: I’m TwatWaffle, with Local Cleaning Company.
I noticed movement over The Things' shoulder, another shape in the dim hallway. And that is when everything clicked. I remembered seeing pictures lining the upstairs hall—pictures of a Mom, Dad, and two identical cherubic little boys—twins. This then was Thing2, and I had previously met Thing1. Dear god, basement-dwelling twin neckbeards.
Thing2: TwatWaffle, a lovely name for a lovely lady. M’lady, I need your assistance; I accidentally kicked my computer mouse under my bed. Neither I nor Thing1 can reach it. Perhaps M’lady would be willing to retrieve it.
OP: I’m not supposed to do anything that’s not on our cleaning order.
Thing2: But I’m not asking you to clean anything. I’m simply requesting that you do something for me as a favor. Surely, helping your client reach something isn’t against your rules. It’ll only take you a minute.
OP: I guess not, just let me spray down the shower and then I’ll help you.
Thing2: Excellent…
Thing2 lumbered back to their room. Thing1 stood for a moment longer in the hallway, staring before waddling after its brother. I finish up the shower, gathered the trash and used cleaning wipes, and put my supplies back in the caddy. I unscrew the bleach bottle one more time and inhale the fumes before walking to the next room and entering The Things’ nest.
What hit me first this time was a sweaty, musty smell, underlined by a salty, stale smegma. Then, as I stepped forward, the unmistakable stank of rotting food came edged in, joining the bukaki of smells in my nose. This room was also narrow and long. On the right and left sides against the wall were desks, each had two large monitors. LED gamer lights were hung on the wall, but the thick layer of dust that coated everything in the room dimmed their rainbow-light pattern. The only other lighting in the room came from a narrow window set high up in the wall and the glow from the monitors.
But scant light clearly illuminated dishes, pizza boxes, cans, and assorted bottles filled with suspicious liquids that lay in heaps around the desks. Stray bits of trash were scattered everywhere else. Beneath my feet was brown-crusted flooring that might have once resembled a carpet. On the back wall were two full beds set end to end. Thing2 sat on the right bed, and Thing1 sat in a chair, staring at something on one of the monitors.
Thing2: Here M’lday, it’s under my bed.
Holding my breath, I walked forward, knelt on the hard, stiff carpet, and peered under the bed. The mouse lay right there at the edge. Surely, Thing2 could have reached that far himself? I picked it up and held the mouse out to him.
Thing2: Thank you. You’re so kind and helpful. Perhaps you can sit with me for a moment and talk. It’s so rare that I get to meet such a beautiful lady.
OP: You’re welcome, but I have to go. Shirley and Laverne are waiting for me, and we have more work to do.
I turned to walk away when I felt something I will never forget. A pudgy, soft, and clammy hand gripped my wrist. It was so soft, like a baby's hand that had been enlarged. I’d never felt someone's hand before or since that was so fleshy and uncalloused. Sometimes, as I fall asleep, I feel that hand gripping my wrist again.
I froze and looked at this monstrous beast that grasped me. His fleshy acne riddle face smirked back at me in the dimness. I heard a groan and creaking metal as Thing1 exited his chair and stood behind me. Fear now engulfed me to my bones. I had been too distracted by the disgusting state of everything to consider Thing2 might have ill intentions. Or maybe I had inhaled enough fumes from cleaning supplies to cloud my judgment.
Thing1 took a step toward us as Thing2 began pulling me towards him. I braced myself, but the floor was slick, and I slid closer to Thing2. I wanted to scream, I wanted to say something, but fear had gripped my throat as hard as Thing2 gripped my arm.
Shirley: TwattWaffle! TwatWaffle! Where the hell are you, girl?
Shirley called from the hallway. Her raspy smoker's voice sounded like an angel's call to me, and her call gave me the strength to finally speak.
OP: Shirley! I’m over here!
Thing1 plopped back into his chair, and Thing2, startled by the sound of another person, loosened his grip enough that I could yank myself free. I picked up my cleaning caddy and ran from the room as Shirley’s head peaked around the door.
Shirley: Come on, lazy girl. We’ve been done for ten minutes already. You’re making us late. I’ve told you; you've got to go faster, girl.
OP: Yes, ma’am, sorry.
Back upstairs, I shakily helped load all our cleaning things back into the van, and we left. A week later, I quit and found better employment. Before that day, I had been rather naive, but I would never allow myself to get into another situation like that again.
I know my story is short and neckbeard-light, but I hope you found some entertainment in it anyway. Reddx, if you read this, thank you! And if you don’t, thank you for the hours of entertainment you’ve given me.

Hey all,
I have a business with a few employees that generates about $350k after payroll… 350k pre tax to me. My overhead personally is rather low (6-7k per month).
Business has ramped up and I’ve hired more people… with the opportunity to buy another firm but honestly…. The money doesn’t do it for me anymore. I feel like I’ve lost my hobbies and have turned to retreating to alcohol, nicotine, porn, and anger.
In the surface no one is would know but man I just can’t do it anymore. I’m trying to let go and bring some of my employees up to management level and have them run the firm.
I’m not sure where to start… rehab for adderall addiction? A monestary for a month with Buddhist monks? Blow everything on coke and hookers in columbia?
I could sell my biz right now for about $2M with contingencies but I know I’d regret it and be bored within a few months.
Has anyone run into this before? I’m 33… having a dark night of the soul I guess.
Thank you for any input and/or wake up calls.

I somewhat like pharmaceuticals! It's a very interesting and inviting proposal to give in to urges of viewing the body through a totally reductionist lens, just another bit of machinery that we can tweak and manage, that we can manipulate at our whim, make it serve us in the way we feel is gratifying right now. Not the way biological and environmental pressures determiner how it should react.
Unlike the biologically constrained view, this viewpoint is fun, because it feels empowering! It enables the delusion that we actually have even the slightest fucking idea what is going on in the brain and what we are doing. Now, we are creatures of habit, and that is because our body is so dead set on returning to homeostasis and is really good at it. But we are not a kitchen appliance. We don't have 5 dials and 3 buttons. The amount of cross-interactions and ways shit could possibly go wrong randomly is unimaginable.
SSRIs. SNRIs. Antidepressants in general. They hailed in the waves of Depression diagnoses - in that temporal relationship. And I believe causal. We've been handing them out for so many decades now, yet that the production site of Serotonin was located in the gut, that was something we only found Out in the last decade. Look at our antipsychotic medication, our line of defense against psychosis - just fucking block dopamine I guess. Yeah you feel miserable as fuck with your Mesolymbic system blocked - have some antidepressants with them maybe? Why not go for Venlafaxine. Cause that ones fucking easy to get off of and certainly isn't a massive disruptor.
Blocking Dopamines effects; That's our BEST swing at schizophrenia, after a century. Yet.. everyone is under the impression we already have this figured out apparently. Really? Did I miss the Party?
It I recall correctly, psychotic states can have a plethora of causes, and it's often difficult to find any substantial reasoning as to why they wouldn't be considered to be 'hallucinating stimuli that aren't present in material reality'. Let's look at BPD: Borderliners are permanently parapsychotic, meaning their reality testing is impaired constantly, and they like to lose that grip entirely in a state of what is essentially a right hemisphere mini-stroke. They will start confabulating nonsensical, illogical, contradictory and straight up just untrue garbage ad infinitum, no matter how much evidence they are presented to the contrary - they will make it fit in, and they really believe in it, it doesn't vanish afterwards. Do we give those people anti-psychotics? Why not?
When are you clinically depressed because of an imbalance, versus should get your fucking life in order? When is it a disorder that impairs your social life, versus you refusing to leave your god damn basement?
Maybe we should feel a bit bad about ourselves sometimes. No, I'm not saying it anyone should be left unhelped or should "man up". Maybe a pill is NOT gonna solve our horrible hygiene, or lack of interests. Maybe reviewing our life without self-deceiving might do the trick. Maybe not. Even if it's the capsule, you know the drill, only effective after a few weeks of daily intake (and we don't know why it exactly works either lol). It seems weird for human physiology to just have completely, utterly and collectively shat the bed in such a brutal manner, affecting so many people simultaneously, with such growing number within decades, if at all.
To go on a tangent, have you ever played a PC game and used cheat engine? There's values you can search for and change within the rapid access memory that your PC has allocated somewhere for whatever memory the game is actively constantly using. There's a lot of games where you could find the value of the level you have in some skill and change that - yet nothing happens. Actually, the number you changed is only a display number for the player, so besides being informative for you it serves no function. So it has to be some other value, maybe an XP counter which just starts at 0 and goes up to 99999999, or maybe that one is dependent on others as well. Maybe it's randomized at every playthrough which combination of values determines it? We certainly know changing the displayed number doesn't really do that much. Actually it might be counterproductive if you think you're higher in that skill than you really are, put less effort into leveling it.. That's what Antidepressants were to me.
Now, higher Serotonin concentrations are clearly correlated with higher levels of.. Well that depends what you're searching for, doesn't it. You can just take the easy route and say "Happyness". Huh. What the fuck does that mean? Because you could also say the funni peterson lobster thing, that it's got a very strongly correlation with the hierarchical status, which would also not be wrong. So the translation for humans seems to be the "socioeconomic dominance hierarchy", heard that one before. Well that's another very simple, easy, onedimensiomal concept to unpack, isn't it. So does that disqualify me if I don't score high here ? It doesn't seem to, I feel pretty good. Oh - correlation, NOT causation. True, just a thing we happened to observe.
Such statements and observations only maybe might make sense and be of limited use if they are used to make inferences about each other, maybe arrive at a sudden absence of correlation between relationships, but only so long as they are using using identical definitions and rulesets as their playground boundaries.
So what are these boundaries, who sets them? First, lets look at real science.
With formal sciences, we adhere to laws of the fabric of space and time, and we test for ideas, hypotheses if you might, in a way that tries to actually show we're wrong, in order to find the least wrong, least unnecessarily complex theory, that can nonetheless give us reliable capability to predict future events, allowing us to plan and strategize. You try to prove you're wrong because you can't prove anything als definitely right by "Always" being correct. What does Always mean? The next trillion tests? Until the end of the universe? Alright, see you then. It can be correct any number of times - if it fails a SINGLE time to be applicable, or completely misses the mark with a prediction it makes about the future, it needs to be revised or replaced.
Now, join the imaginary realm of arbitration and conjecture. The social 'sciences'. We have merely an imaginary and conceptualized space, it's constraints and the it's contents and what that space deems to be in the range of normalcy.. Range of normalcy...
I guess we do that by what we agree is normal? Or what we're like on average? Kinda hard to find a measurement that takes everything into account. Oh right, we are stupid and gullible.
Psychological & Psychiatric associations and doctors determine what's normal, correct and right. Based on what THEY determine scientifically as normal or abnormal. Follow the science. Today you're a junkie tweaker on meth, tomorrow you might be a performance-enhanced enjoyer of hedonistic short-term pleasure. Doctors know best. If they say you need Adderall, you're not a speed addict with a dependency - you're receiving medication for your attention deficit disorder. Today you have Gaming Disorder, tomorrow it might go up to a HAZARDOUS gaming disorder (sadly not making this up).
But back to this experimental space. One of 'knowledge' - that has as 0 external validity. Whatever is posited or discovered within this conjecture, its gotta be a result of working inside that conjecture and it's rules. That means we have to accept the premises required as existing at least, and the rules wholesale.. Because otherwise we never would've been able to discover anything about that space, it would've been a different space, one that you don't have anyone to discuss anything with. So we have a hypothetical space, and it's boundaries must be accepted as existent, if not true, if we are to work with it. But we can prove the premises and true afterwards for the ones coming later?
No, they cannot help to prove themselves, are just accepted upon. But we always need a framework to guide us. Otherwise, there is nothing to find out, because you can do nothing inside of nothing. If there are no bounds or limits to a space, then you have failed to define a space. If you define a space, then you can differentiate between what content is contained in it, and what is outside of its confines.
You change the frame, you automatically change the space, you reframed. New things might be included, others disappear, others have to be revisited (like malignant self love, narcissism revisited) and refined, with whatever had to be changed for any number of reasons, rarely ones of health. Because honestly, all in all there's only few major psychoactive substance classes, and those dictate the approaches, obiously. And that's my entire point with this. We have to use conceptual frameworks and systems, yet people seem to think that just because it's been designated, it therefore has any physical manifestation in reality.
They have NO, and absolutely cannot ever have ANY truth-value, absolutely nothing that would allow them to ever enter the methodological realm of hard truths. They have no intrinsic value that would ever qualify them to be be user for confident inferences, deductions, statistics or anything constituting true scientific theory. This is important to know.
People that are psychotic just, in waves reporting they see Santa Claus, that wouldn't be put in as a comorbidity, right? Science doesn't work like that.. Right? Right guys? We don't try to just immediately integrate any behaviors that pop up outside of a more and more narrow definition of normal, with a more and more broad definition of mental illness, and begin to call these people sick and suffering from "pathology", right? We're a.. science?
If you set up deductive hypotheses and formulate tjem in a manner that positivistically attempts confirm what it's maker has already observed / desired on as a recurring or noteworthy phenomenon, like a distinct characteristic of a mental illness, it's already been established as a prototype, and he WILL find what he wants. And it's nonreplicable too. A lot of people behave a certain way. And it's similar enough that we thought we might give it it's own label to better treat it. That's the only reason something gets it's own label. We the distinction we made between X and Y was made possible not because Y was always there, waiting to emerge. It's because we added it.
Only need enough same-ish results in that group, and voila: Have 'Gender Dysphoria'. And before I get beaten to death, it's because it's the most twisted example. This is no stance of valuation. But there was no reason that 'body dysmorphia' could not encompass this phenomenon - but when enough people appear, then yeah. It becomes somewhat necessary, they have so similar disturbances in identity, and perception. Well, and the perception part is not what it used to mean, the patient misperceiving and such. Reframed that, cause that insinuates delusion. And nobody wants to be delusional. Weirdly accommodating, I wonder why?
Contagion? Absolutely possible according to their studies, denied for ages, by all psychological metrics confirmed beyond doubt not too long ago (not specific to this matter).
But.. from a profit oriented perspective, the prospect of these people.. The treatment is gonna be lifelong with a lifelong hormone therapy.. and whatnot because they are fixing an issue of identity with purely sexuality, so antidepressants and a BPD diagnosis are also for the taking.. and oh man the surgeries are treasure trovee no matter how they go.. in fact the less effective they are, the more dependent on the sector the person becomes.. Meaning more. Fucking. MONEY.
Fuck it, get the gears turning boys, we gotta get the news out, and weaponized Compassion (previously: enabling) is the tool again, as always. Its a distinct clinical entity, they are born in the wrong body, which is one hell of a claim in general, but alright. And this is everyone that's diagnosed. They wouldn't be diagnosed if they didn't have it. How does one get diagnosed you ask?
You're unhappy in general, anxious about socializing in some way, and have this deep feeling of being uncomfortable in your body but in a certain way. A conviction that you have an incongruence of gender assigned at birth. A strong belief that you always had.
Anybody can claim that conviction. That's not a marker. If that's ALL you diagnose with, at the end of the day "No you don't." is not really something you are able to say to one person while treating the other.
If both are completely convinced and made up their mind, they will probably display the same behavior too. You can never truly distinguish, because your category has no criteria that can't be emulated, there is nothing to distinguish with - just personal opinion. And because the person wears a lab coat and has seen similar people as well as studied for a time, their opinion is no longer personal, but professional - thus becoming gospel and truer? At least that's how it feels like the diagnosis is talked about. Ignorant to a simple fact: a true deep conviction can look identical to, a self-deceptive delusional state that persists. And whether it is a construction worker that does the judging or the white coat glasses man, fundamentally they both have to say yes to both these cases, if going purely by the psychiatric criteria by the book - provided they truly did forego personal opinion. That is the case for every inner conviction of course. Yet there is no other conviction-based purely mental ailment for that we would consider cutting someone up and readjusting them, while having no proof at all of actual efficacy, making a probably already anxious and possibly traumatized person go through a traumatic surgery that has no recourse. That's not help, that's preying on the vulnerable. And in the most twisted way imaginable, because its not only permanently altering the body of someone, whom I would argue has slightly reduced ability to consent due to warped perception; it also weaponizes their identity disturbance and loyalty to group identity LGBTQ+, an often toxic replacement for peers and family, drawn towards because they doesn't question anything except dissent in their ranks, encouraging narcissistic shared victimhood, rendering outside world a constant threat. And these people suffer so much, and I agree, but because it's affirmative care, only a fucking monster would ever object to the wishes of the suffering person; worst of all denying or discouraging the helping hands of the surgeons, endocrinologists and psychiatrists - they are your friends. Your best friends. They do science. Just let yourself get cared for. And as early as possible. I don't know man, we've been going for a while with these surgeries yet we are severely lacking in even these shitty studies that would give a clue of at least a unrealistic clue because of environmental pressures or reactivity etc.. People just get lost post surgery and especially the ones that went through with it before puberty keep not being checked up on.
Unlucky, guess it's just luck of the draw that nobody cares about whether THIS very tempered measure for a mental state that seems to sometimes subside or be tied to trauma is actually an effective treatment, you know in improving lives. I mean they gave all this affirming care these friends of us, so everyone should affirm, so better shut the fuck up. And no you're not getting funding for long term follow-up studies, actually if you try, we'll make it as hard as possible to follow up on these people by not changing their records appropriately for them to be found. I think 12 without parental approval would be a good starting age?
This is the most extreme example, but you can apply this to so many conditions and treatments. This shit is totally circular. It's begging the question. Everyone loves it because it is so awesome. It's terrible how people might not love it, so therefore we should act against such people, right?
In a perversion of science so disgusting it needs a name of its own, Psychiatry is a disgrace, and we throw Neuroscientific and Biomedical observations into the same pot with a questionnaire about 'what you feel like?' and 'how intense from 1 to 10 would you rate it?'
Depends on the context. Maybe my 5 is a hellish nightmare for others. Maybe everyone actually feels way shittier by default than it seems. Maybe seeing people happy online nonstop makes me feel like I should be happier, so simultaneously I become less happy and I would rate my happiness as lower. Sounds like a reasonable measure to me. Very Accurate too.
So now, we find out how we can get SSRIs approved and distributed uhhhmmm I mean, find out what might be wrong and how we could treat it. This melancholy of yours uhhh I mean Major Depressive Disorder you pathologically suffer from.
Olay so fuck it, it keeps in Serotonin, let's get a "measurement of the number of instances of neurotransmitter x in synaptic cleft y" in there. A physically existing amount of a defined thing in an area at a time; which therefore, given our tool of measurement has 100% precision, would have to yield as it's value a single, natural number, with a truth value of absolute for at that exact instance of designated spacetime. That is very important, because it very clearly prevents the possibility of any other value that isn't identical to have been ALSO true at the same time, so it is falsifiable. Or rather, it was - that instance is gone, the measurement cannot be replicated, we could make reading mistakes, but we could demonstrate that multiple measurements reliably deliver quantities that are inside of a possible range. Convenient for us if we maybe aren't entirely honest. Now we did the SCIENCE THING. We got a fucking NUMBER man. That sexy, empirical, numerical value, gained by observing material reality and measuring for a quantitative value. Let's get a few more of those measurements.
Now get your lab coats ready again guys:
We take those numbers.. And we start to just aggressively smash, beat, and contort them in whichever way necessary, so that they can 'support the findings' and neatly 'fit into the presumption' of whatever bias-riddled, pseudo-scientific theory we are trying to posit. Graphs are good - just numbers, statistics, math, anything to make it look formal. We do the research on this, so we are the experts, so we declare us the authority to distinguish between expert and lunatic. on this. Also since our research is science, it has to follow good lab practice. That only costs you a few dozen million to accommodate. Nothing a cooperative partner can't pay.. provided you're doing the right kind of studies.
Also, for the last time guys, follow the science, okay? You might claim that we just see and name behaviors that are abmormal, same-ish and cause discomfort, then might claim that studying whether the people we put in the study because they exhibit that abnormal behavior we grouped are suffering from the label we gave that abnormal pattern (they are, it's bad) is a bit pointless - but trust us, we're always like "Wooooow, the result was exactly what we expected! The descriptions fit like a glove!". We may be unable to make reliable, statistically relevant predictions about the behavior of even 1 person, not even for a few minutes - but rest assured, our statistics are all corrected for, any environmental or external variables or reactivity, and I mean it's 10 people, how much more do you need, 50? Remember, we don't pathologize, we treat and care with methods, like sending you to these people that, you know uhm, talk, and all that kind of shit.. Anyway, lifelong pharmacological and/or surgical interventions are often necessary.
You say 0 truth value again - we say take your medicine patient, cause you're starting to look preeeeettttyyy Antisocial. You got some sort of conduct disorder huh.. guess a callous unemotional type.. not showing any emotional correlate. Hello? Is he just playing dead?
Okay. That's it. He has ODD, it's obvious. That's clearly a case of the oppositional defiant disorder. Do we have a med for that? Mmmhmm ... yeah... okay alright thanks.
How about some Venlafaxine?

I was out to dinner with my friends and one of them asked for an Adderall. I keep it in my car so I excused myself and went out to the parking lot. I’d already been drinking as we’d gone to the winery first and I was still having wine. I get in the car, open the bottle to get one and spilled them everywhere, including on the asphalt (the car door was open cause I expected to quickly be in and out) The parking lot has no lights so I decided to turn my car on and back up a little then use the headlights to find the pills (my phone was inside and I was drunk so this made sense to me at the time ). I put the car in park (found out very quickly I actually left it in neutral) and then got on the ground to look for pills. Car started rolling back and I get up to chase after it. It looked like a scene from Mr Beans Holiday. I get around the door and manage to put one foot in, I’m trying to stomp on the break when I somehow tumble out the car and end up underneath it. My 2900 pound suv rolled over the back of my left leg. I was so drunk I hadn’t even processed what just happened and I got back up to keep chasing after it. It slowly backed into another vehicle and finally stopped.
Nobody was outside or saw me. I drove to a different parking spot, and went inside and told my friends we need to get the check. They said I looked disheveled and asked me what happened. I said someone hit me with their car and they demanded security footage and to “find out who did this to you!”. Luckily there is none and they don’t know that I’m both the victim and main suspect in my own hit and run.

Ok (44 m) here. I've been off the scene for close to 5 years. I worked on myself and the work paid off. I'm very comfy with life as is for me now. But, of course, I'd like to welcome someone into my life.
I got on fb dating and had some success. Matched with some girls, sent messages and even exchanged phone numbers with some. I finally worked up the courage to ask a girl out.
We agree for me to pick her up, but she changes her mind. I'd rather meet at the place. Awesome. No problem. She's being cautious. Absolutely nothing wrong with that. In fact, I liked the idea better.
We agree to meet at 7:30. I arrive at the place. I get a text. I'm running late. Okay, what time you thinking. 7:45. I wait 15 min. Another text. Let's meet at 8:30 instead. I almost canceled then, but I literally live within walking distance. Ok fine. I go back at 8:30. She's there. Great.
We meet. I was catfished. Not horribly, but I definitely felt deceived. OK, whatever, it'll still be a good meal. Maybe good convo.
I'm not going to go into details, but here's the gist. She's in the middle of a divorce. She's living with her ex. She has 4 kids. She has no job. No prospects. She just moved in her nephew that has a meth problem their trying to help him with. All the while She's telling me how handsome I am and how good I smell and kept trying to hold my hand or make physical contact in some way.
We finish our meal and I say I have work and better get going. It was 10:30. She tries to invite me to her place. Nope, not even close to going to happen. I read the news. She tries to invite herself to my house. Mm mmm.. nope. I open her car door for her she steps in kinda facetiously pouting.
I get in my car and drive away. On my way home, I see her car behind me. OK, her place must be on the way to mine. I take a turn she turns... that's weird. I take another turn. She turns. Nope. AYFKM? I start heading to a store near my house and pull in. She fucking follows me to the store. Pulls up next to me. "Hey stranger." She says. "Uhhhh... hhhheeyyy..."
Anyways, I say I needed some shaving cream. I'm not good on the spot like that. I tell her to get home safe. She leaves. Thank GAWD!
Today. I'm working. I at fucking work. And I've already received 24 texts and 9 phone calls.
What. The. Actual. Monumental. Fuck???
Sorry if grammar is off. On my phone.

So my life is completely falling apart and it's gotten to the point where I just want to eat a bullet.. back in March my really good friend/boss split with his wife and needed to find a place to stay and to help the both of us save money I offered to rent him the upstairs of my house witch since I purchased the house and all the contents in it 3 years ago had been used for storage for stuff I don't really use and a lot of the stuff that came with the house when I bought it. Fast-forward to the morning of April 14th at 4:32 a.m I was awoken by what I thought was someone breaking into my house because I heard windows breaking and then I felt my whole house shaking (quickly realizing that what I heard and felt was no one breaking in my house but still clueless to what it was)My boss yelled to me asking me what the hell was that and if I was okay ( he had just got out of the shower that was located downstairs in the back of the house, he was getting ready for work) I said I don't know I don't see anything. ( Windows breaking came from the front of the house) So he ran upstairs to investigate as he got to the top of the stairs I heard him yell "Oh my God!" I immediately grabbed my 5-year-old daughter who had still been sleeping on the pull-out couch we both fell asleep on while watching TV together the night before and ran out the door still unaware of what was happening I just knew it couldn't have been good. As I ran out of the house I witnessed flames shooting out the 2 windows of his bedroom directly above where me and my daughter had both been asleep. I immediately called 911 (it's now 4:34) put my daughter in our work truck and drove down the street to get away from the house so my little girl was safe and didn't have to witness her house burning down. I spent the rest of the day trying to enjoy the remainder of my weekend visit with my daughter at my grandparent's house. I lost about 70 percent of my belongings but the house was salvageable thanks to the fire department getting there so quickly. Cause of fire a candle. I thought the worst was over... Not even close it had just begun. The next day was questioned by the police they stated it was routine and they just needed to ask me about that morning. I told them everything I wrote above everything was fine so I thought. 2 days went by and I went to call my daughter to talk to her like I do every night and my ex-wife stated CPS said I was not allowed to have ANY contact with her, at this time this is the first I'm hearing of it and I assume she's lying like she always does so I go to family court and file violation against her. I had a house fire that was an accident a careless mistake made by my boss there should be NO REASON for me to not have contact with my daughter. I called CPS and they told me yes they put a safety plan in place until they get the final report from the investigation of the fire and we go to court. I never heard from the police department or fire department again about the fire but the investigator for my insurance company confirmed cause of the fire was from a candle. I had talked to police multiple times between April 14th and May 1st because my motorcycle was stolen from my garage 3 days after the fire and not once did they indicate to me I might be in trouble. May 1st comes along the day we have a family court I'm super excited I'm thinking I'm going to get to see and talk to my baby girl later because it's also the day where my visitation would start. She's my whole world and the only thing I have left at this point. My wife left 3 years prior and now my house burns and my motorcycle is stolen. Here comes the huge shock. The judge stated the police told CPS they found meth-making materials at my house and he is suspending my joint custody and visitation until further investigation and schedules court again for June 3rd. I'm completely shocked this is the first I've heard about this. I know for a fact I NEVER purchased meth-making materials never had any intentions on making meth and don't even know how to make meth even if I wanted to! Another week goes by and I'm walking down the street to the store during which time I see the same cop drive by me 3 times over the course of like 15 minutes the 4th time he pulls over and calls my name says Hey can I talk to you for a minute. (Sure thing in thinking he might have information about my motorcycle) I get closer and he starts talking and says sorry but you have 2 warrants for your arrest in going to have to take you in. I can't go to jail I have all this insurance stuff going on with my house so I can rebuild and get money to replace all of my possessions so I run (I know stupid) I somehow was able to get away And get out of town. I tried contacting the local police and State police to find out why I have arrest warrants both told me I had to come to the station to find out they wouldn't speak to me about it over the phone. I can only imagine it has to do with what I was told during family court. I have every intention of turning myself in but I have to get everything taken care of with my house and contents otherwise I'm going to lose out on getting my house repaired and being able to replace my contents so I can eventually continue with my life. I'm scared I don't necessarily have the greatest reputation with the police as I am a drug addict I did pretty much every drug you can think of but I have been clean since April 14th, 2018 ( wow I just realized that is the same day my house burned down ) when I found out I was going to be a father I check myself into rehab the following week and have been clean ever since. I have completely turned my life around since then. Have, well had a good job, purchased my first house, loving every minute of being a father to my little girl. And I feel like I've lost everything that night. I know I have nothing to do with meth-making the only possibility is that what they found was in the house when I purchased it or I'm being set up. Or my boss had them witch I highly doubt. I don't have money for a lawyer until I get paid for the contents of my house and I was 4 months away from completing a 5 years felony condition discharge which has now been violated due to the arrest warrants. Part of that 5-year conditional discharge was I had to sign an enhanced sentencing agreement that if I got in any trouble I get brought back in for re-sentencing with an enhanced sentence. I know everyone says they are innocent but I truly am. But I'm basically fucked anyway due to The CD. I don't know what to do other than try my hardest not to give in to the extreme depression that all of this has caused witch as of the past few days is getting very hard.....

y long and then I didn’t see her again until I was 18. as soon as I turned 18 I left my dad‘s house and I spiraled until I got pregnant 5 years later pretty much. I had my ups and I had my downs and I just thought it was anxiety and depression. I would go we [ ADHD-BP2, GAD] I have struggled with mental health issues, my entire life. My parents were never married and I always went back-and-forth between my parents until my mom started doing drugs and she lost all her kids so between fourth grade and eighth grade I didn’t see my mom and then in ninth grade we started supervise visits. They didn’t last very long and then I didn’t see her again until I was 18. as soon as I turned 18 I left my dad‘s house and I spiraled until I got pregnant 5 years later pretty much. I had my ups and I had my downs and I just thought it was anxiety and depression. I would go weeks or months without even talking to anybody and then I would go a long period of time where I would just be out partying every single day or hanging out and doing things every single day hanging out all night just being crazy 20s. I have been very dependent in my relationships for my own happiness. I feel as if I have always fed off the person I’m with and if I’m not getting the attention, I just don’t feel loved and I feel sad. I have self medicated with Adderall in the past because it had helped me focus and get things done. I get these frozen states where I will sit here for hours thinking of everything I have to do and I just can’t get myself to do it. So finally at the age of 30 I talk to my psychiatrist and everything. I said I was diagnosed with ADHD plus bipolar and generalized anxiety disorder. I’m currently on 150 mg of venaflaxen antidepressant, which they’re not gonna take me off of yet, and I am going to be starting a mood stabilizer, it starts with an L I believe. We are going to work our way up into a higher milligram but starting on the lower spectrum of it 25 mg we’re gonna see how my body does with that while I’m still on my antidepressant and then once I even out then, we want to start me on vyvanse.
I am pretty nervous to start the mood stabilizer because I’ve read a lot of horror stories, but I’ve also read a lot of miracle stories and I don’t know how it’s gonna work with my anti-depressant that I’m on I was reading that you have taken stimulants and you had you have bipolar, and you weren’t even doubt that When you start your bipolar worse, I’m not sure I’m kinda in the dark still maybe should find some more info groups. Just wanted to say I always thought it was ADHD depression and now I’m finding out it’s not but I don’t know how long it’s gonna take to feel better.

Hello,
I have been lurking here and other BPD related places for the last few months and this is my first post. I apologize if this is the wrong place or if I am breaking any rules.
My (32m) sister (36f) is one of the most important people in my life. She was diagnosed specifically with BPD a year ago but has a slew of other mental health issues (ADHD, depression, anxiety, PTSD). We grew up in a fairly traumatic situation. Our parents weren't overtly abusive but failed in many aspects to properly care for us.
They divorced while I was 3 and she was 7. Their divorce was brutal and we started off with shared visitation, but ultimately spent most of our time with our mom. Our mom became a single parent doing what she could, and our father became a relatively successful business man. Both were remarried after the divorce.
Growing up with our mom meant we did not have much, but there were always presents for Christmas, we always had new clothes for a new school year, and we had dinner every night. This remained true even as our mom developed an illness that caused chronic pain... right at the beginning of what is now called the opioid crisis. She became bed ridden and developed an addiction. Fortunately, we had the worlds most badass step-dad who loved my sister and I, while maintaining the delicate balance of not being one's bio parent masterfully. Both my mom and step-dad were always supportive, if not cautious, of us maintaining a relationship with our father.
Our father is a deeply good person, but used to struggle to maintain his anger. Early on, I basically refused a relationship with him. He would go through these explosive outbursts, and sometimes use some of his financial resources as a "carrot" to shape our behaviors. Most of what he was trying to get us to do were things like make good grades, but it still felt manipulative. When I was 19, I recognized that most of his behaviors were largely because of the way he was raised, which was in abject poverty and hostility. I rekindled a relationship with him, and though there have been a few rocky moments, I think we both see eye-to-eye on a lot of things.
I bring up all of this background as context for my relationship with my sister. Things were rocky, but we relied on each other for a lot of it. We always came to each other defenses, and I still feel uncomfortable being honest with my parents about some of her more recent behaviors, in an attempt to mitigate any judgment they may have for her.
For years, I looked up to my sister as an independent and incredible person who didn't take shit from anyone. She's an insanely talented visual artist and can be a caring and loving person. However, the cracks began to show around her senior year of high school. We always used to think she was a little bit boy crazy, but she refused an opportunity to go to a prestigious art school to stay home with a boy that would ultimately cheat on her.
My dad paid for an apartment for her when she was 20, but established a few rules. I consider them to be fair and basic things like, no smoking inside, and keep the place relatively clean. She found them to strict and after a few years, decided that she didn't want him to pay for anymore housing for her. This coincided with my 18th birthday when my mom told me to move out. My sister was my first roommate!
We lived together for a year before we had to move out because of an unethical landlord. We each found single bedrooms with different friends, and we were split up again.
We both sort of partied and bullshitted over the next few years. Both my parents offered and committed to a ton of financial support for her, and I received almost nothing. I eventually figured I didn't have a real plan in life and opted to go to university, and have the Army pay for it. My sister ended up in a relationship that would last 10 years. (more on this in a second)
Joining the Army was the best thing that I ever did. I married my high school sweetheart and we began building a life. She finished grad school and began a career she loved, just in time for me to get out in 2022 to find a career for myself. We are homeowners and have 2 wonderful pups and 2 amazing cats. Although I have things lined up, it is going to be a few years before I start working fulltime again, and in the meantime we can get by on my wife's salary and some benefits I get through the G.I. Bill and service related disability.
Leaving the Army was the third best thing I ever did (behind marrying my wife), but it had some down sides. I became aware of a bunch of family problems that had metastasized while I was in. 1. My mom's parents were extremely old and on the downward slide. 2. My mom was diagnosed with dementia and needed support handling her parent's affairs (along with her own) 3. Something was definitely wrong with my sister.
I took care of my grandparents and my mom, but my sister proved to be much more challenging.
The man in the aforementioned 10 year relationship replaced our father in my sister's eyes when my father had to walk away from helping her because of rounds of the typical emotional cycles and self-sabotage she had run him through. To be honest, I don't know much about him. All I know is that after 10 years, he had also had enough and walked away. That was about 18 months ago. It was about this time I started getting texts from her about how abusive he was, and how she needed help to find a stable environment. Like I mentioned, I adore my sister so I crunched some numbers, sought approval from my wife, and started sending her a couple hundred dollars every month. (Note: my wife and I started dating in high school, and she also loves my sister)
Eventually, it became clear that the money I was sending was not going to be enough for her to pay her rent. It also became apparent that money was not going to things like food, toiletries, etc. A friend of hers connected with me on Facebook and said she had asked if she could buy Adderall from her. She has been prescribed Adderall for most of her life, so I sort of wrote it off as a, "she's going through a hard time."
She also began demanding that I send her more money than I had agreed to, and would send easily 200-300 texts to me, my dad, my wife, or my mom if I said no. These texts took an exceptionally hostile tone. She started to describe her habitual weed consumption as "medicine" and that she needed it to heal. She also called me on LSD one night. Still, I sent her money. I just locked in on the idea that this was a person who was in pain, and dealt a decently raw deal. If I could give her some semblance of stability, she could heal and live an independent life.
As her housing situation deteriorated, I did the thing that will likely make many of you cringe. I offered her a room at my house. She didn't want to at first, but eventually had to.
The day I walked into her house for the first time to move her out, should have been the day I recognized that this person needed more help than I could provide. The house looked like a house from that old show "Hoarders." There was junk everywhere, there were rodents, insects, disregarded food. There was mold, it reeked, and cigarette butts on every inch and surface.
We spent four days sifting through it to find the things she felt she needed to keep, but she was limited to the items that I could fit in the van I was going to move her in. She raged at me basically the entire time, ripping dabs every few minutes and needing to stop for a cigarette.
To her credit, she gave me her bottle of Adderall as soon as I arrived and let me know she had kept 10, and would need more when we got to my house. However, when I came back the second day, she had taken all 10 that night when she was supposed to be figuring out what she wanted to keep. She'd go one to consume a month's prescription in 9 days. I enabled it.
The anger was wearing me down, and I had to excuse myself for an hour on the day we were supposed to leave. I called my wife and told her that I didn't think I could do it. She knows me and said that I would spend the rest of my days wondering what would have happened if I walked away, but she supported my right to do so. I gritted my teeth and went back to her house, determined to see this through. I thought that if I could get her to my house, she could have the support she needed, and she would start to regulate.
I was wrong. I did get her to my house. That was two months ago, and the anger has not subsided. It has only gotten worse. I have been waiting on her hand and foot the entire time, at first trying to allow her to feel supported but then just to keep her from exploding on my wife and I.
A week ago, I had to go to my mom's house so that my bad-ass step dad could go see family he hadn't seen in awhile in another country. My sister berated me over text, which is fine, but she started berating my wife to her face. On top of this, her room is turning into her old house, and it is starting to leak into common areas like the kitchen and living room. She has only taken 2 or 3 showers since she has been here.
Today, I calmly told her that she had until the end of the month. At which point, I will take her back to the city I picked her up in. I told her I would sign her up for shelter services and put her in touch with the proper systems so that she could get the help she needed. I informed her psychiatrist (whom I have a release for) of the plan. I also told my parents and everyone understands. She knows that she is welcome to keep her belongings at my house and I will send them to her when she has a long-term place. Finally, I told her I will not be sending her any more money, but I will continue to pay for her phone.
I don't know why I am writing this. In a way it is cathartic for me. In another way, I feel a horrible sense of guilt and dread. My sister doesn't do anything all day expect for smoke weed and cigarettes, and yell at my wife and I. Occasionally she Ubers to stores and buys a bunch of random and pointless things. She spent $165.00 at dollar general recently. She hasn't had a job since we were in high school, and has absolutely no idea how to manage her finances. I am afraid that even if I sign her up for these programs, she will not follow through and end up on the streets. I know that is her choice, and I know that she needs to take ownership of her mental health, but it still stings when I think about it.
I also think I am writing this because I am angry. I'm angry at her. I am angry at myself. I am angry at the situation. I want my life back. I want to feel safe in my own house again.
There is a lot that I didn't include about other common BPD behaviors simply because this is already an insanely long post. There is also just generally a lot that I left out (if you can believe it). Feel free to ask questions or if I need to clarify anything. I am probably going to do the healthy thing tonight and doom scroll until I pass out with my phone on my face. Thank you if you read the whole thing.