Gift basket for a 70 year old woman

Wow! This turned out so long and was helpful to write when I was feeling really really awful an hour ago. Here it goes:
I’ve been following this page and a few others once I saw information on video game addiction a few months ago. I saw my family and step-son in so many of the stories, my heart and mind was transformed. I don’t feel alone and my son is certainly not alone in his struggles. To be honest I’m scared to start this new journey, and I’ll get to that more later.
I always knew something was different about my step-son’s gaming, and it’s been a struggle since 2-3 years old based on what his Dad has told me. Here’s a bit of a background of our family dynamic.
Jake had Pete when he was 19 and never had a relationship with Mom, Kate. They split custody and it was evident she was using hard drugs and lost full custody of Pete when he was 9. A lot of his time with Mom was spent on an iPad without regulation as early as 2. Routines, locations, and security was not always present. It’s tough to think about the severity of what Pete experienced. At this time school was difficult, and Pete was diagnosed with ADHD. Meds helped a lot, and once Jake had full custody he was all about routine routine routine, healthy foods, activities, table top games nightly, camping, you name it! His passion for being a single Dad to Pete is why I ultimately fell in love with him two years later. When I started hanging out I noticed Pete playing a lot of games and not being the sporty type or hanging out with friends. By this point he was playing Minecraft after school and on the weekends pretty regularly. Jake was a good video game police officer and we still had a ton of time together as a new family. Pete is kind and very easy going and we started a great relationship fairly quickly. Jake and I agreed and often disagreed about the severity of Pete’s gaming, but we would come together and set some house rules and go on with life. As soon as we got busy, Pete would dive deep into computer games and grades would drop. We would see feces in his underwater, lack of hygiene, not getting up, laptop under his pillow, exc. Almost like clockwork by spring break, we’d have this intense struggle and Pete would pull it together for the semester at the very last minute. Pete is gifted and was always in accelerated math and science glasses, but was able to do the bare minimum without studying. Repeat for the next 3 years. Fast forward to High School he went to a smaller school in a new town and actually saw more independence. He made a friend, Dan who’s still around and is everything you’d hope a friend would be to your kid. Their bond is awesome. We’d still have to police but things were getting easier and we weren’t seeing those intense “downs” like we were in elementary and middle school. I think he was more confident and even his teachers said he was crushing it! The summer was tough and we tried to fill his time up but nothing seemed to interest him. If he hung out with friends and was hygienic we just made nudges about time limits. Thinking back I think there was one more period where we found feces in his underwater end of Senior year and gaming picked up, probably because we dropped our guard.
Summer before college I got him set up with an awesome outdoor job working on a zipline/climbing course and he thrived in Pete’s type of way. Climbing is one of the only things I can suggest to Pete and he’ll usually show some interest. Confident, peppy, excited, getting himself up. Always going back to games everyday but maintaining work, a friendship, and a little independence is what we wanted so left him alone most of the home time. We nudged him into a climbing retreat as an incoming freshman to give him a head start making friends, and a clear head going into the dorms! Scary fun times, and thought it would help. Then we officially dropped him off. Wow, so many smiles and happy tears had by all. The light in his eyes and showing us around and saying how cool he felt it was probably the happiest day of our lives along with my wedding day. The day I read vows to Pete saying I’d be there forever and unconditionally. It felt like my son was ready for his future. As we were driving away Pete said his friend gave him a gaming computer for free and he was at the tech center getting it hooked up to the campus internet. Dun dun dun.
Today he’s 2 weeks into his first summer break after a year of college. Yikes. Things are not great and that’s why I am here.
It was Spring Break (here comes the pattern) and Pete was gaming, not verbally making much sense, unhygienic, lost weight, gaming non stop. He almost missed his 2 hour bus ride back to school and that’s when we snapped. The typical what the hell is going on, you’re out of control. Pete usually cries when this happens because he knows the gig is up. Eventually he told us the truth, he failed two classes his first semester (told us winter break he did fine) and is now on track to fail another science and lab. WHAT!! We drove out there the next day to meet with the dean because he told us he was on probation and we wanted to support him. We were so worried. It turns out he hasn’t had any social interaction other than winter and spring break and spent his days alone in his dorm. He didn’t even seem like himself it was so scary. We get there and we spent two days walking, going out to eat, the typical “you got this buddy” “just stop playing games for a bit” and insert the other 100 life sayings you want to say to your kid that sound so annoying to them. We can’t help it. We love him. He was like yep I got this, nodded through all of it and we left. Three weeks later we noticed on the phone things were sounding off again, and he confessed he hasn’t made up any of his work. His Dad got disappointed on the phone and Pete said he called the suicide hotline because he was getting “yelled” at. I was standing there, he wasn’t yelling but I’m sure just the sheer reality of the situation got to him. We were heart broken, and at the same time angry. We couldn’t believe he was feeling this much anxiety and possibly depression. We always knew gaming was an escape and most likely due to his background, but this just seemed too much for anyone to handle. Again, he promised to limit himself. We checked in everyday for the last three weeks not with a nag but just, how’s it going. Did you set a timer today? Amazing that’s great you’re so close to being done!! Just trying to keep it super positive. We knew it was totally out of our control. He failed, and actually never made up the work his professor said he could over a month prior. He lied more.
We knew something had to change and we were preparing his return home. Can we do game quitter? Can we just put him right into a detox in our home? Family therapy? Healthy gamer? Olganon? We wanted to smash his computer trust me, if it weren’t for my job I wouldn’t have wifi because my stomach is in knots. But, we decided relationship first, let him set his own limits (with our house rules) and really try to get to the root cause of anxiety and depression. We had good convos, we let him tell us how it’s basically all of our fault because of the pressure, no judgement. We communicated with notes and texts sometimes when things were getting frustrating. He skirted around the 3 hour daily limit every possible way. All he wants to do is play video games, watch to tube of video games, talk to “friends” on discord about games, play D&D online, or draw D&D characters. It’s just too much, it’s impossible to limit. He always had an excuse for a screen and we were still seeing 10+ hours a day on screens. He told us he’s feeling crappier everyday by us, and honestly we’re feeling freakin awful and exhausted too.
What now? Nothing. I’m literally doing nothing anymore starting today. I can’t stop crying. He won’t do his own research into gaming addiction and does not want to change. Today we just said ya know what, this isn’t working so we’ll just figure something out in a few weeks. At this very moment he’s going on hour 9 of gaming straight. Knowing how much we tried as a family to limit this for the last few weeks. I’m still angry and it’s hard to look at him right now. It feels personal to me? I know it isn’t, but it just feels that way.
Therapy!? Yep. We tried. Back when he was in middle school and high school. Didn’t want to go back and didn’t talk much. He got his own therapist at school per the deans suggestion and he goes but the one session he’s had at home, he got off within 30 minutes and said “he didn’t have much to talk about with her” and he’ll see her maybe once a month back at school. We are doing healthy gamer coaching as parents, but he is refusing to sign up for coaching on his end. My guess is the name alone. The risk of losing games is not something he’d ever discuss right now. I swore up and down they won’t make him get rid of games lol! Did not work.
What’s dad doing? Half. Literally half at all times we make a plan at night and in the morning and check in with each other about it all day long. It’s so exhausting and Jake is just ready to do whatever it takes at this point as well. He’s having the same struggles as I am and is 100% convinced it’s an addiction and has listened to a lot of podcasts exc.
My new plan…. Because I have to have “something” or I might blow up. Now I have to let natural consequences take the lead. He doesn’t have a license, because he couldn’t pick up driving skills with how his brain is on games. We tried teaching him for two years and it was honestly dangerous sometimes after a “bender. He asked me to go tomorrow and after 9 hours I’m just going to say I’d feel more comfortable if he went to driving school and he can pay with the money he earns this summer. It j=is just not safe, why does he deserve to take my car and put me in an unsafe position? I don't have to allow that... but it feels like I am still the bad guy. Looking forward, IF he fails college....when he is home he cannot have our wifi, will contribute to groceries, phone bill, and rent. We live in a rural area and without a car he can’t work. I will not be driving a 20 year old to and from work due to his brain on games. It feels wrong. Maybe he can’t support his habit without working. That’s all the “what ifs” but rarely does life go exactly how you picture it. We will just continue to get creative and roll with it.
Does anyone have any advice on how to not enable but also let them be in charge of their own destiny? Not saying anything or giving him a sad look feels impossible but I did it tonight. J was able to pretend it did not bother me that he’s been on there forever. I think I can keep that up? But I also don’t want to enable him.
My family is hurting so much. So many hugs to anyone who struggled and is currently struggling. Same to the parents who have that knot that won’t go away. Thanks for reading

i (23f) have a younger sister, “Susan” (21f) that i believe might be experiencing a psychiatric crisis or something? mental health issues is very genetic in my family, i myself was in and out of the hospital about 13 times from ages 12-17 and struggled with a myriad of issues; my concern is coming from a place of love and not judgement. a little background on Susan: our parents separated when she was 6 months old and she never had a relationship with our dad. our stepdad met our mom when she was 4, and he has been in our life since. he wasn’t the calmest guy. he were taken from our parents custody when she was 11 and she was in kinship with our aunt for a year. fast forward to high school, she had some issues with attendance and completing things, she said this was all anxiety based. in high school she was able to keep a job as a hostess in a nice restaurant for 2 years until she was fired for thinking her managers were talking about her behind her back and discussing her concerns with coworkers. after several attempts to try to clear the aistraighten out the issue with no success, she was let go. interestingly, my mom had the same thing happen to her right before we were removed and she was let go from a bank. my mom ended up needing inpatient for paranoia because she thought people were recording her and hiding listening devices in her car. since Susan lost her hostess job, she hasn’t been able to keep a job for longer than a few weeks to a month. she has issues with hygiene as well as feeding herself, she’s lost a lot of weight in the last year and a half. she’s had issues with stealing from family as well as stores. she’s faced legal action because of this. she also smokes weed often (it’s legal, no judgement). in the last year and a half, Susan has been violent towards our family. we have two younger sisters 15 and 13, and she has tried to fight them both over thinking they were talking badly about her. she has threatened to kill our stepdad and then herself. she waves a knife around and screams at us to get us to do what she wants us to, which is usually sit quietly in the living room without talking. if she hears talking, she comes back in and screams asking what we’re saying about her. it’s terrifying. i’ve had to go pick my sisters up and bring them to my apartment because they’re so scared of her at this point. i keep telling my parents that when this happens, they should call the police. not because i want her in trouble, but because it’s scary and children live in the house. most recently, she texted me and said she had a religious experience and she believes prayer works and god is the answer. we aren’t a religious family, and she in the past was never, and i mean never, someone who was interested in religion. she used to be into crystals and spirituality but she now says that is evil. this morning, i got a text from her saying she knows for a fact the neighbor is keeping a woman hostage in his house. she says she can hear screaming but nobody else has ever heard this. i just want to help her, and the behavior is getting worse. i don’t know what to do because i don’t live with her anymore and our parents don’t call 911 when something happens. does this all sound like a psychiatric break or am i overreacting? i know schizophrenia can set in around this time but i don’t know if she is exhibiting the symptoms. what can i do?

I feel so bad for Nia and Holly in season 5, all the moms accused her of "bragging" when the poor woman was just happy for her kid, how many times has Mellisa bragged about Maddie? Or even Jill with her "my little kendall"
In episode 17 when Holly left the room to watch the video she was GLOWING and all the other moms could do was talk about her behind her back and then they had the AUDACITY to not come to the premire? and call the video inappropriate??? when maddie went around in skin colored leotards danicng w 30 year old men, I dont think any of those are inapropriate in their respective contexts, but all the moms were being so hypocritial
and more than Holly i felt bad for Nia, shes always there for all of the other girls and on her one big thing they didnt even come? except for jojo? whos barely known Nia for a year.
I felt so bad for them in season 5

I used to volunteer at this horseback riding farm. For context, volunteers were compensated with a free horse ride each time we volunteered (which I have since learned means that we technically qualified as workers in the state that I lived in). There was one day that I was working, and I went into the tack barn and saw a girl laying on the ground, looking rather unwell. She was another of the "volunteers." I asked her what was wrong, and she responded that she had touched an electric fence on accident and passed out. On this particular day, it was bucketing raining. If you've ever touched an electric fence with a wet hand or while it's raining, you know just how badly it hurts. I was premed at the time and thought she may have some sort or heart of neurological condition, so I had her lie down on the ground with her feet propped up on a wastepaper basket and monitored her pulse while I texted her mother.
It was at this point that our boss came in, saw her laying on the ground, asked what the hell she was doing, and, upon my explanation of the situation, told her she was faking and to get back to work. I instead walked her to my car so that she could sit down somewhere without the boss yelling at her and called her mother. During this time, she started to get worse and seemed very out of it. Her mother (a nurse) asked me to call her an ambulance. I hung up and did just that.
When the first responders arrived, our boss yelled at them to get off her property, but they refused because the girl in question was a minor. She saw the girl in my car and, realizing I was the one who called 911, told us both to, "leave and never come back." Another of her employees then tried to block EMS from giving the girl medical attention, so the cops were called and took statements. The day ended with two firetrucks, two police cars, one ambulance, one irate woman screaming, and a partridge in a pear tree.
I later found out she had been involved in some very shady business practices and that is most likely the reason she didn't want anyone there. I did what I could to get OSHA and other organizations involved to prevent another accident, or at least ensure that if something did happen, the person would receive medical treatment, but nothing every came of it and the business is still up and running a year later. I checked and saw that other reviews have said people have since been hurt on her farm. So, I left a review telling this story and warning people not to go there, as it could be dangerous. I received a very nasty reply from the boss/owner calling me a Karen and a bunch of other names and basically telling me that the girl and I were lying and had wasted the first responders' time. I feel like a terrible person for not doing more to help and also can't help feeling shaky every time I think about that response, like I also did something terrible by helping, even though I would do the same thing again.
I don't know what else to do, but I can't let this go. Not when she still has so many people, including summer camps for children, on her farm. So, AITA and is there anything else I can do?

I am 19 years old, and I never had a girlfriend. I already had a semi-hookup(cuddled and held hands), but I never kissed or had sex. Is this how I wanted my romantic life to be at 19? No, I thought that it will come.
Too bad that I finally understood that magic DOESN'T exist just 7 months ago, and that DISNEY LOVE STORIES DO NOT HAPPEN. On the other hand, it's good that I didn't remain delusional longer, until 25, for example.
How do I feel now? I feel missing out, really missing out. I am already two years behind the national average in losing your virginity.
Can it be objectively assured that, beyond reasonable doubt, I will remain virgin for life. No. Women don't bully me, I am generally not treated bad because of my looks. I am not perceived as creep. I never had a hard rejection. I get some matches on Tinder and other dating apps, I've been on a few dates. Nevertheless, it doesn't erases the envy I feel towards others, and the sadness of having missed out. Is it bad and a sin to envy, absolutely, and I pray to God for forgiveness and regularly repent.
This state of sadness on missing out puts me however in constant sadness, perhaps. It makes me perhaps assume that I'll never find a girlfriend, that time will fly by, and things will remain as they are.
Also, I absolutely hate my sex drive and body. My penis is ugly, my hairy legs are ugly, I only like my pretty face as seen from the front, and maybe my belly. I hate my libido. I think make sex drive was created by Satan, and is a part of Satan's kingdom on Earth.
What plan do I have? Well, I can tell you, there is NO FUCKING WAY I will remain virgin after 25. I will try to go with plan A until 25. After, I have established plans B and C.
In Plan B, I will find a boyfriend. I am desired in the gay community, and gays love me(got 100+ likes in an evening on gay Tinder). Is it the same as having a girlfriend? No, it will be worse. Is being in a gay relationship better than being a 25 year old virgin? Absolutely!
In Plan C, I get rid of my male body. I will start taking Estrogen HRT. I will remain stealth until FFS. After FFS, I move to a new city, don't tell anyone that I was born male, live as a normal woman. After, I will get SRS. And then, I will find a husband(trans woman here on Reddit told me that they have a lot of Tinder likes so it won't be a problem.). We will get married, adopt two children, and live my dream middle class suburban family life. I'll be just the wife, and not the husband. Is it better than being a 25 year old virgin? ABSOLUTELY, MUCH MUCH BETTER! Is it better than having a girlfriend? I never had sex, so I can't be sure. However, I would say yes, because I'll get rid of the shit between my legs.
EDIT, A lesson I understood: THERE IS NOT SOMEONE THERE FOR EVERYONE. MAGIC DOESN'T HAPPEN. IF YOU DON'T TAKE ACTION, ,you WILL remain single for the REST OF YOUR LIFE! Take action NOW, UNTIL IT'S TOO LATE TO START!
You have the moral obligation to TRY AT YOUR MAXIMUM the Plan A, before inventing yourself the Plans B and C.

I was just returning back from another interview. It has been the third one this month.
I failed to make the cut yet again.
Life hasn’t been easy for an ex-soldier with the economic downturn currently underway.
The COVID pandemic had also wiped out all my savings.
So I was open to securing any job that would help me pay my bills.
I hadn’t eaten all day and just passed by a McDonalds. It was crowded and I thought to myself, ‘Let me just order a takeout’.
I could see a few vehicles waiting in front of me.
There was a guy in his motorcycle honking incessantly demanding the customer in front to keep it moving.
He was a tall man with long hair and clearly looked edgy and irritable. Both his arms were heavily tattooed. He stepped down from his bike and started to walk towards the car in front of him.
I couldn’t make out what he way saying but I could see the conversation was getting heated.
I got down from my car and walked towards the biker guy.
As I got closer, the biker banged on the hood of the car and was pointing his finger at the man threateningly.
The guy in the car was looking a little alarmed. He had a young boy seated next to him.
The woman working at the driveway counter appealed to the biker to maintain his cool. He would hear none of it.
She then proceeded to call the police and this made the biker more irate. He snatched the receiver from her and hit her face with it. She fell backwards and started bleeding from the nose.
The biker then proceeded to turn his gaze towards the man in the car. He opened the door and dragged the guy outside.
He drew his hand back to throw a punch at him.
I caught his arm from behind and kicked him hard in the shins. He yelped in pain and let go of the other man.
He then turned back angrily to take a look at me. He was wearing a black jacket with the name Kenny embossed in front.
I said, “Listen Kenny. I have had a really bad day. So you either stop this madness or I am going to break your bones.”
He snarled and threw a punch at me with all his might. I swerved to the right and ducked just in time, causing him to miss completely.
Next, he whipped out a switch blade from his pocket and lunged towards me with it. I side stepped him and counterattacked with a punch to his plexus. He went down on one knee.
I caught hold of his knife arm and ordered him to drop it.
“Drop the knife kenny!! This is your last warning”, I repeated.
He started to fidget with his other arm around his shoe. I realized he had another weapon hidden in his sock.
So before he could attempt anything else, I twisted his forearm and landed a crushing blow to his elbow. It snapped into two and he lay on the floor yelping in pain.
By this point, other people came forward to intervene and help with the situation.
As Kenny was being led away by the police, he kept staring at me with madness in his eyes.
“I am coming back for you. This is going to be the biggest regret of your life”, he yelled.
I didn’t care and started going back to my car.
Then the man who was threatened by Kenny came forward and shook my hand.
“Hi. I am Rupert. That is my son Henry”, he said.
I waved my hand at the boy and he waved back.
“I would like to thank you for what you did for me back there”, he said.
“You not only helped me maintain my dignity but also helped me save face in front of my son”, he continued.
“This means a lot to me as a dad” he said.
I nodded in acknowledgement not sure what I was to add to the conversation.
He then reluctantly asked,” Is there anything I can do to repay the favour? Please feel free to ask . Anything. I would be most grateful.”
I thought for a moment. I could see the man was wealthy.
“If it’s not too much of an ask, I would appreciate a job if available. If you feel that is difficult, no problem. Forget I asked. No worries.” I said.
He smiled back at me warmly. He reached into his pocket and handed me a card.
“Please come to my office tomorrow. We can talk” he signed off.
From that moment on, I became the personal bodyguard and chaperone of his 8 year old son Henry. We immediately hit it off and became pals. I looked after all his son’s travelling arrangements.
We would also go to McDonalds every week for his favourite Burger and fries. I later learnt that his father was a very wealthy man who made most of his money during the dot com bubble.
I also became friends with the female employee at the driveway counter who had earlier been attacked by that biker punk Kenny.
Her name was Stella and it didn’t take very long for the two of us to start dating.
With a fulfilling job and a loving girlfriend by my side, my life was finally back on track. I couldn’t be happier.
And then one day - it all came crashing.
Henry and I as usual visited the McDonalds joint and I was surprised to see Stella missing at the counter.
I asked the staff about her and they said she hadn’t turned up today.
I thought that was weird. She had stayed over at my place and I saw her leave for work in the morning.
I tried calling her number but it was unreachable.
I dropped Henry at home and headed towards Stella’s apartment.
She had given me a spare key and I opened the door with it. Everything was in its place.
I tried her number again. It remained not reachable.
I decided to go back to my apartment to check if she might be there.
When I reached the door, I could see the lock had been smashed. The door was left slightly open.
I took out my side arm and slowly entered the apartment.
I could see a life size figure of Ronald McDonald the clown sitting on my sofa.
The famous mascot was sitting cross legged with one arm resting on the backrest. Just like how he likes to sit on benches outside McDonald outlets all across the world.
I was a little taken aback, but quickly switched on the lights to take a closer look.
As I moved closer, my knees buckled under my own weight.
It was Stella. She was the one who was dressed as the clown.
There were injury marks around her neck. She had been strangled to death.
I managed to call the cops while still reeling from the shock.
I also noticed her right hand which was resting on her thigh, was close fisted. When I pried it open, there was a crumpled piece of paper inside.
It read -
“She was really begging me for mercy.
Where was soldier boy when she needed him huh?
Boo Hoo….I’m Lovin It!!
I’m Lovin it!!
Signed Yours Kenny”
I could feel a surge of anger envelop me. And yet I lay there helpless.
Had it not been for the surveillance cameras at the entrance of my home, I would have been in jail by now.
The police could clearly see Kenny carrying Stella’s body and breaking into my apartment.
They put out a nationwide notice for Kenny and he’s been on the run ever since.
Even after 2 months following Stella’s death, the police were not any closer to catching the culprit.
But I did apprise Henry’s dad of the situation. His life was also at risk after considering what happened to my girlfriend.
But our collective worry was for Henry. We didn’t want to see him suffer for no fault of his.
So I started training Henry to take his own safety seriously. I devised multiple safeguards to keep him protected while being outdoors. Always ensured that I was personally there to drop and pick him up from school.
My boss appreciated all that I was doing for his son. He knew I had taken Stella’s death hard.
He was a generous and compassionate man and I liked working for him.
Although he did notice I wasn’t my usual cheery self anymore.
One day when I was waiting at the office, he tossed the keys of his new car at me.
“This should perk you up. Take her for a spin” he said.
“And also go pick Henry up from school”, he finished as he left for a meeting.
I got down to the parking lot, and there she was … waiting. The new Bugatti Chiron.
I opened the door and took the driver’s seat. The fresh smell of the leather upholstery was already lifting my spirits.
‘Boss was right! I am perking up’, I thought to myself.
I drove around the block and stopped by McDonalds to pick up the usual order for me and Henry.
I felt a tinge of sadness when I could no longer see Stella at the counter.
Anyways, I picked the order and started my way towards school.
As I went past the restaurant, I saw an old jeep parked by the side of the road. I didn’t think much of it at that moment.
When I reached Henry’s school, I parked the car a few feet away from the entrance. A couple of minutes later, I noticed the same jeep I saw at McDonalds go past me and park 20 mts in front.
I would have never given it a second glance had I not spotted it at the restaurant.
The jeep had 3 passengers. They looked like bikers with tattoos, beard and long hair.
And then there was Kenny standing behind a tree to avoid detection. But I spotted him.
He was gesturing towards them to get ready. I could see his Harley parked just a few feet away.
They were planning some kind of ambush.
The school bell rang and the children were already out on the streets.
I could see Henry at a distance in the courtyard. He was slowly making his way towards the gate.
I immediately called him on the phone and told him to go to the Principals office and stay there. I made it clear under no circumstances was he to venture out until I gave him the all clear. He understood.
He was safe as long as he was within the school’s premises.
The next thing to do was move to another location. The children were already pouring onto the streets, and the last thing I wanted was to see a child getting hurt.
I started the car and went past the jeep before taking the next turn. I kept driving.
Few moments later, the jeep caught up with me and the driver violently swerved towards the left causing me to go off course. My car came to halt.
The guys quickly alighted from the jeep and they were all armed to the teeth.
Kenny came in his motorcycle and stopped his bike a few feet ahead of me. He took out his shotgun and had it aimed straight at my chest.
The firing started before I even had the time to react.
I instinctively ducked for cover with my eyes closed.
But in my heart, I knew my time was up!!
As the seconds went by, even with all those bullets being sent my way - my body felt strangely light.
‘Am I in heaven already?’ I thought to myself.
I slowly opened my eyes and tilted my head upwards to take a peak.
And I realized I was sitting in an armoured bullet proof car.
The entire biker gang were mad with rage, doing everything possible to penetrate that thick armour plate.
Kenny was barking orders at his gang to continue the onslaught. He then pointed his finger at me and yelled, “I am coming for you.”
I looked down at the seat next to mine and saw the takeout I had ordered.
Just to piss him off even further, I took out my Big Mac and slowly took a big bite.
I sat there in gastronomic bliss savouring my burger, while being under a continuous hail of bullets.
The firing suddenly stopped. Kenny the psycho was livid as hell - to see me have a good time.
I looked him in the eye while I took a sip of my favourite milkshake.
And then, continued to chomp on my burger.
He looked a little crestfallen at how his plan was misfiring and then frantically gestured his troops to keep at it. The firing started again.
But it didn’t last long. They eventually all ran out of ammo and his buddies began to flee the scene, as we could hear sirens at a distance.
The attack had taken a toll on the car. But it managed to withstand all that damage. All that firing.
A life saver!
I looked at Kenny again. Only one thought was running through my head now.
‘My Turn’.
I switched on the ignition and rammed the car straight into Kenny. He hit the bonnet hard while the car continued to race forward.
He was clinging on to dear life with his outstretched hands desperately clutching at the sides of the car.
Next in the demolition line, was his prized Harley Davidson.
I hit it full steam and watched it smash to smithereens - with parts scattering all across the road.
Then, I hit the brakes and Kenny was sent flying 10 feet forward.
After impact, he slowly staggered to his feet - all bloody and bruised.
His face was swollen like an apple.
He was pleading towards me with folded hands to show him mercy.
‘This is for Stella. And She’s lovin it’, I said out loud.
I hit the accelerator again.

I don't think there's anything wrong with getting a L2 label, and I wouldn't be upset at all receiving a L2 label if I thought it was accurate. But I dislike the idea of being mislabeled, and misrepresenting myself and being part of the problem between the higher need and lower need communities.
I was diagnosed last year. I am a 34 year old woman who self-suspected for 15+ years.
I joined this sub when I received my level, because I was quite surprised and sceptical due to being sure that I'm high masking. I stayed because I love this space and learn so much from the people here.
When I expressed my confusion about the level, the doctor who diagnosed me said something about not liking to give firm labels and giving me the L2 label due to the diagnosis being so recent and my many years of masking and basically white knuckling it making it likely that I'd need a lot of help processing the diagnosis, mental health/service support, etc.
I'm in the US and I don't qualify (or feel the need) for disability. I was already seeing an ADHD therapist and an ADHD coach every other week, and I did increase the sessions, but I didn't need an official diagnosis to do this. So I guess, I'm not sure what the point of a "situational" label is, and I'm annoyed because one of my things is that I need things to be very clear and correctly labeled and this is very unclear and confusing.
It's probably not rational on my part, and maybe comes from internalized ableism, but I also feel like I was made to feel comfortable with unmasking during our session, so the way I was presenting was not accurate to how I usually present outside of home. I tend to rock a lot when I'm not masking and I feel that it's such a stereotype that she immediately checked a box in her head.
I can work full time and can do a lot of things that are very hard to do with higher support needs, so I feel like I always need to explain that I am L2 on the paper but actually that's wrong, because I don't want to misrepresent or trivialize other autistic people's experience. I know it's probably not a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but I find this really confusing.
Anyone received a level on paper but know that it's incorrect (either higher or lower than their actual level)?

Ok I know the title may come across as a little conceded or self absorbed but hear me out before judging please.
So I'm a 27 year old woman, most people think I'm 18-20 years old, I have a baby face. Since I turned about 19 I started getting a lot of attention from men/boys. I know some people will think "oh poor you, you are sad because you're too beautiful." That's not what I'm trying to get across here. I am unconventionally attractive. And I've spent a long time building up my self confidence to be able to look at myself in the mirror and feel beautiful. And I don't think it's bad for anyone to know they are beautiful. And at times I do dress provocatively, I'm comfortable with my body, I'm happy with how I look and I'm not scared to show off. But here is where I have a problem.
I like to feel beautiful and I don't mind compliments from men, but I've gotten to a point where I'm very depressed about how people see me. I've been sexually harassed by so many men and it's starting to get to the point where I'm like can't you see past how I look and treat me like a living creature that's equal to you? I've been sexualized since I was a kid, my sister's spread rumors in the family that it was weird me and myale cousin were best friends. His parents even forbid us from seeing each other when we were teens. If I hung out with any guys my age my sister's had to bring up that it was inappropriate in some way. When I was 17 my sister's 30 something boyfriend said my Facebook pictures looked like pinup model photos and my sister thought this was a sweet compliment while I was disgusted. The same guy later sexually harassed me on Halloween when I was dressed as Harley Quinn, I was 19 then, I won't get into specifics, I've already shared this story, but this led to my sister physically fighting me, she was 30. Not to mention my other sister is still friends with this guy and let him be around me again.
Basically, I'm so scared now of men being attracted to me I'm afraid to talk to my male professors because I had one be a little to touchy with me, I'm scared to even hang out with male family members because I'm afraid even they will be creepy to me. And just recently I came to the realization that my old therapist was being creepy to me as well, always telling me I was sexy etc. Like I'm scared for a man to even talk to me, and if a man is being creepy to me I always tell myself I'm overthinking it so therefore I'm at risk more because I don't even know what's real anymore.
All of this has severally affected my dating life. I've never dated at all actually. Despite the fact that men have told me they think I'm some kind of wild sexual creature, I'm still a virgin. And when men find that out they either get even more creepy or aren't interested because I'm not the sexualized object they had fantasized about.
Now I either get men who aren't into me at all and ghost me, or men that can't stop talking about wanting to be with me, probably just for a night. And it's all really affected my self image lately.
I'm mostly just ranting here but I don't know, there's this character in a book called Bailey's cafe, her name is peaches and she cuts her face to make men leave her alone and I always really related to that tbh. I want to feel and be beautiful but I also want people to know there's more to me. I don't want to have to be suspicious of every man who talks to me, I wish other women would quit treating me like shit. Like what's so bad about just existing as a woman? Can't I just get some peace at some point.
I know someone will tell me to get over it or that I'm just trying to get attention. That I'm complaining about attention others want. I get that but I just wish I could let my feelings out there without being judged sooooo much by literally everyone. Anyway, thanks for reading. I'll probably delete this if the hate becomes too much for me lmao (oh also I forgot to add, the reason I mentioned I look younger, it makes things worse cuz most like 50 year old men creeping on me think I'm like 18 so that freaks me out.)
💖💖💖💖

Why did the farmer visit the pharmacy? To speak with the farm-assist.
Hi and welcome to my post! Wanted to start off with a funny to me dad joke.
Nice to meet you, I'm Dylan! To put it simple, I am a single 22 year old man who has been pretty lonely in life and lacking in female connection and interaction. And part of what comes with that is the desire to be intimate with a person. I am very mature for my age and will always be respectful of your boundaries and feelings, especially with anything sexual. Lately all I have is myself when it comes to sexual desires, so I would like to have someone to keep company with in that regard too.
I'm just relaxing in bed before work and burning a woodwick candle. Perfect for when there's a storm outside. I love candles! 🕯️ Sometimes a campfire outside on a fall night or a crackling WoodWick candle is a relaxing constant among our busy and hectic world. It's nice to just disconnect, feel grounded and happy in your own little cozy space. Feeling calm and collected and at peace. Something that fewer people take the time to do these days.
I am seeking a woman around my age or older to build a close connection with that could possibly lead to a relationship and something intimate which includes the possibility of teasing/sharing pics etc. but only when we were comfortable. Figured I would be open in my Intentions as that's the best way to be.
You:
Kind, respectful, and easy going.
Comfortable with the idea of eventually sharing intimate things together.
Willing to eventually move off of Reddit.
Want something genuine and fun!
Are honest in your intentions and a good person to be around!
That's about it, we will get along great I know it.
I've been feeling a little bummed out lately. I always try and stay happy and see the best in things. But.. I've just been so alone. Most of my whole childhood and adult years have been spent feeling lonely. I grew up surrounded by cornfields which was peaceful but also has a lonely aspect to it. My family never really were close and never did anything as a family really. And part of it too is the fact that I never had any neighbors my age to interact with. But aside from that, my adult life has been very lonely. I'm just always by myself. I barely have any meaningful adult relationships or experiences, or even any friends.
I work a 3-11 job in building maintenance at my company world headquarters building which I love, but again it's very lonely. I work the off shift so the building is always empty. I don't get normal social interaction with people my age or a chance to build relationships. I only have 3 older men as co-workers and we are mostly in the basement away from any people on the floors from knowing our existence. I always walk the floors and see office people laughing and chatting with their coworkers and I just don't have that kind of experience. And just.. no one knows I exist really. Everyone probably assumes I have a lot of friends, but I'm struggling inside with being so alone and trying to meet people and get past the "hi how are you?" "I'm good thanks" stage. Most people don't seem to want to talk beyond that. And most women are already in relationships and thus it would seem weird to approach them in an office setting trying to get to know them deeper. But man those "hi how are yous" are the only real interactions I get during my day.. so thus I decided to come here lol. Rant over, sorry! I promise I'm not a downer. 😅
Now for some things about me!
As you can tell, I am very mature for my age and am polite and have good grammar which unfortunately not everyone my age does anymore lol. I am not active at all on social media/internet culture really and don't know much about all the slang the younger people these days use. I feel like I'm 50. 🤣
I am left handed which is pretty cool. I'm not much of a party person or a drinker, I much prefer a quiet night at home and maybe a beer or two on a weekend but that's about it. I am simple and stay out of drama and trouble and don't get much into politics or other things that cause drama with people. I much prefer a relaxing campfire and a night at home and to just let the world keep on turning haha. I consider myself pretty intelligent and mature, especially for my age which is why I'm open to older ladies.
Physically I'm 180 pounds, have brown hair, green eyes, and a typical build. There's a few pictures on my profile.
Some of my hobbies are:
• Photography
I have a Nikon D200 and D5500 that I love to shoot with. I love nature scenes, abstract, black and white/goth kinda photography, sunsets, etc. it's so fun to just let your mind explore. It's not about what camera you have, but those who are behind the camera! I'm gonna try and photograph the northern lights tonight!
• Cooking and baking
I loveeee to cook and bake! I enjoy making various meals but also love to just have a frozen pizza once in awhile or something like that. I recently made homemade chili which turned out great. I love to bake, especially in the fall! I love pies, cakes, pastries, cookies, etc. I restored a vintage KitchenAid mixer that needed tbe gearbox rebuilt. Eventually I would love to practice home canning my own food.
• Music
Oh my gosh, I like so much!! Alternative rock, punk, post punk, electronic, synth pop, psychedelic rock, hard rock, etc. I am very non judgemental and open when it comes to music. My three current favorite bands are Type O Negative, Joy Division, and the Cure.
• Nature walks and camping
I really enjoy camping, making fires, and relaxing by a campfire. I love to take walks outside and just enjoy the beauty and simplicity of nature. It's wonderful, especially in a world so focused on everything digital.
• Repairing things
I'm a maintenance guy and one of my hobbies is electronics repair so I am good with my hands and just all around good at troubleshooting and fixing all sorts of things around the house. Last week I helped my elderly neighbor get his tractor started, it needed a new component in the starting circuit. So I'm pretty handy which... Comes in handy! 😂
• Autumn 🍁
This isn't a hobby per say, but man do I love the fall!!! It's my absolute favorite time of the year. Oh my gosh. The beautiful colors, crisp cool air, misty and foggy days, rain, lack of bugs, being cuddled up with a candle or by the fire drinking a tea, etc. I love it! There's only two seasons for me. Fall, and waiting for fall! Haha.
• Scented Candles and incense
Going along with my love for fall, I absolutely love candles! I have like 30 something lol. 😂 Currently my favorite are WoodWick, which are owned by Yankee candle. They have such a soothing crackle and the scents are great! I also love to burn incense from time to time as well. I have cottagecore hippie vibes.
• Old houses and architecture
I love old houses! Especially 1900s and Victorian era homes. Old homes have so much character to them and are just so beautiful from a time when people took pride in their craft. I strongly dislike the modern cookie cutter cheap construction of homes today. I would love to live in an old home one day. I also love their architecture and uniqueness, as well as architecture of old cathedrals and other buildings.
• Relaxing
Basic I know, but sometimes on the weekend I just love to get cozy in bed and relax and put on a YouTube video or an album! 😊
That's about it for me, I'm a pretty laid back and simple person. My ideal person is someone who is respectful and honest! I am very straightforward and open minded and would hope that you are as well.
If I seem interesting to you at all I would love to hear from you!
Thank you so much for reading.

I am 62, my wife is 58. We have both worked with our bodies most of our lives, and are in great physical shape. We have been married since youths in a high control, culty religion. We have both since left that group. I love my wife dearly, we rarely have any arguments, and get along well. I have never held the patriarchal view of woman. I always viewed her as an equal partner in all aspects of life. She gets my full attention, and respect, as she should. We are both still non denominational Christians. We have good sex more than 3 days a week. We have never defiled our marriage by stepping out, so no betrayal whatsoever, strong emotional bond between us. Our bedroom has a series of no-no's. No cunnilingus, no toys, no missionary (she panics being enclosed), no fingering her beyond 5 minutes. She likes on top, and will do doggy style, but doesn't like me looking at her asshole. Her only attempt at masturbation was falling asleep with a carrot inside her. Broke my heart when I heard about it years later. She also told me she got one of her older phones infected with porn, again years later. Never masturbated, never orgasmed. I can see the exact moment the clit rubbing is over, on her face. She says it's a panic attack/image of me touching her!? she gives oral on a regular basis, but is disgusted by the idea of me returning the favor, I have practically begged. Shit, bringing her to finish with my hand would be very satisfying to me. I don't want any other woman, only her. Even old make ego's are tender, it feels like rejection, and my feelings for her are changing. We have not been physical since I spoke my mind again on the subject nearly a week ago. I asked her "if she masturbated since the above carrot attempt". She replied "no" I opined "How can I be expected to satisfy you, if YOU don't know how to"? I said in anger "you are like a dead fish down there". She knows my touching her is a huge turn on to me, and is part of our nearly always successful forplay routine. She wants to go back to our old routine!!! I don't want to touch her vagina, it went from the most beautiful thing in the world, to a source of pure frustration and rejection. I NEED A WOMAN'S PERSPECTIVE ON THIS!

I'm a 32 year old man in the Netherlands looking for a nice woman.
The reason I'm posting here is because in my personal experience I have found that 90% of women want kids or want them at some point. Online dating has netted me not much results due to incompatibility with, you guessed it, kid prospects. My upbringing and view of society and the current political/economical landscape globally makes me cautious of the thought of having kids, I don't think another mini-me would contribute much. We have plenty of humans walking around doing the same things.
I spend five days per week working. In the weekends I'm kind of lonely lol. My interests are playing guitar, working out in the gym, cycling through nature and videogames. I also love philosophy, politics, science.
My political views tend to be libertarian left. I have a no child wish and I eat meat, fish and poultry. (Not too much of a pork lover)
I haven't had a vasectomy.

I am 62, my wife is 58. We have both worked with our bodies most of our lives, and are in great physical shape. We have been married since youths in a high control, culty religion. We have both since left that group. I love my wife dearly, we rarely have any arguments, and get along well. I have never held the patriarchal view of woman. I always viewed her as an equal partner in all aspects of life. She gets my full attention, and respect, as she should. We are both still non denominational Christians. We have good sex more than 3 days a week. We have never defiled our marriage by stepping out, so no betrayal whatsoever, strong emotional bond between us. Our bedroom has a series of no-no's. No cunnilingus, no toys, no missionary (she panics being enclosed), no fingering her beyond 5 minutes. She likes on top, and will do doggy style, but doesn't like me looking at her asshole. Her only attempt at masturbation was falling asleep with a carrot inside her. Broke my heart when I heard about it years later. She also told me she got one of her older phones infected with porn, again years later. Never masturbated, never orgasmed. I can see the exact moment the clit rubbing is over, on her face. She says it's a panic attack/image of me touching her!? she gives oral on a regular basis, but is disgusted by the idea of me returning the favor, I have practically begged. Shit, bringing her to finish with my hand would be very satisfying to me. I don't want any other woman, only her. Even old make ego's are tender, it feels like rejection, and my feelings for her are changing. We have not been physical since I spoke my mind again on the subject nearly a week ago. I asked her "if she masturbated since the above carrot attempt". She replied "no" I opined "How can I be expected to satisfy you, if YOU don't know how to"? I said in anger "you are like a dead fish down there". She knows my touching her is a huge turn on to me, and is part of our nearly always successful forplay routine. She wants to go back to our old routine!!! I don't want to touch her vagina, it went from the most beautiful thing in the world, to a source of pure frustration and rejection. I NEED A WOMAN'S PERSPECTIVE ON THIS!

So my girlfriend of 4 years told me that her brother’s wife (we’ll call her Rain) wants to have a conversation with me. I’ll try to make this as short as possible but with enough details 😭 sorry!
At one point me and my gf hit a rough patch, We broke up. I ended up moving away to another state for work. I went out with an old friend from HS one day and we slept together. A couple months later me and my girlfriend decided we were going to get back together and work on our relationship, I moved back. She found out that I hung out with said friend and asked if we had sex, I told her the truth. But I didn’t tell her how I went out to brunch with the friend days later, because she thought that she violated me and wanted to apologize. During the time of telling my gf I wasn’t thinking about the brunch because I was so focused on comforting her because she was really hurt about it. She ended up finding out about the brunch later on and was upset which is understandable.
Many months later the woman I had sex with texted me her location with a message telling me she’s moving overseas and wanted to see me before she leaves. This was around the same time I went back to town for a modeling gig. I never responded or saw her but my gf just assumed I did once she saw the message. She eventually said she believes me and we moved past that situation overall.
One day I reposted a Facebook post that said “Where’s the girls that like to go Fishing,Hiking & Camping n shii the ones that really do like nature and ain’t boujie??” Rain took a screenshot of it, sent it to my gf and blocked me on Facebook. She read that as if I’m looking for another girlfriend instead of actual friends…Because for some reason people think just because I dress masculine most of the time that I can’t be friends with other women 🥴. My gf confronted me about it I explained it to my girl what it means and she moved on from it. I blocked Rain on Instagram.
But recently my gf’s been telling me how Rain has been telling her to break up with me since she found out I had sex with someone else (although we were broken up). Now that we have a family trip planned where we will most likely be going to Rain’s home she told my girl that she wants to have a conversation with me to make sure I don’t have bad intentions and how it’s awkward because we have eachother blocked on social media. There was no hard feelings when I blocked her, after she sent my gf that screenshot I felt it was best to not have her on social media considering she’s causing unnecessary drama within my relationship and I never even had my gf’s brother on social media so what’s the big deal with having his wife?? When reading what she sent my girlfriend it comes off as if she’s going to try to “check me” about what I did she said “We’re gonna try not to be aggressive about it”. Although we weren’t together I still feel like I don’t owe anyone else an explanation for what I did except my girlfriend. I also don’t feel comfortable staying in their home anymore after discovering how Rain really feel about me. It totally seems like she doesn’t like me at all.
My gf’s ex followed her on IG the other day. My gf told Rain how we were both shocked and that I was “talking my sht”. Rain automatically read that as if I was going off on my gf about it, her response was “LOL she’s mad at you about someone you haven’t talked to in years 😑” my gf shut it down and let her know I was not mad and that’s not what she meant. At this point it seems like Rain has some type of hatred towards me. Every time my gf brings me up when they’re texting she’s saying something negative about me. But now that I think about it when I first met my GF Rain was telling her I was going to cheat on her, like she was expecting me to be a bad partner which is still odd to me because in the beginning my gf was the one getting caught up texting her exes so why did she assume I was gonna be the one to cheat or break her heart? My girlfriend told me she had to defend me on multiple occasions when people tried to put dirt on my name in the beginning which is weird because why were they saying these things?? (A friend said it’s because I’m very attractive and some people think attractive folks are “fck boys” 😂😐)
But anyways I don’t feel like I need to talk to her brother’s wife about our relationship problems or what not. I probably would feel differently about it if we were like kids in high school or if it was her parents but her sister in law? Not necessary. I also feel like it’s wild to tell someone to leave their partner who they want to be with after they told you how important their relationship is to them. It seems like Rain has been waiting for something to happen to try to convince my partner to leave me. I don’t understand how I would have bad intentions and/or what would be my goal in the end? It isn’t like I’m using my gf, she isn’t funding my life or anything remotely close to that so why would I stay with her after everything we’ve been through with bad intentions? My gf understands how I feel, she says my feelings are valid. She says her brother and Rain are just being protective.
How would you handle this situation? What is a mature way to handle a situation like this?
Thank you in advance!
i don’t know if this matters but for more context me and my gf has been living with each other since 4 months after getting together. We moved across the country together when we were 19. So we’ve always been very serious about our future and relationship together. Very mature when it comes to certain things, obviously we met when we were young so there’s a lot of situations we have where we have to learn from them and learn who we are and what we’re growing to be. if that makes sense lol.

There are some kinds of wisdom only great suffering can bring. I remember my time in the Bardo with this in mind, for otherwise, the memory might drive me insane.
The night my heart stopped for nearly three minutes started off normally enough. I was working as a nurse in the psychiatric ward at a hospital in the state’s capital. Most of the patients there were harmless, mostly just suicide attempts or people suffering from drug psychosis or severe depression, but some were actively dangerous and certainly psychopathic in every sense of the word. The new admission was one of these- a three-hundred pound black man with a long history of smoking PCP, schizophrenia and violent, psychotic breaks from reality.
His eyes looked like flat pieces of slate as I walked in for my shift. They looked as blank and emotionless as the eyes of a doll. He sat at the table in the front room where the patients ate or played cards, alone under the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital. I walked to the station, where another psychiatric nurse named Ricardo was sitting behind the desk.
“What’s the deal with the new guy?” I asked him. Ricardo looked up, his dark Spanish face forming into a deep scowl. He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair nervously.
“He’s trouble, man,” he said in a crisp accent. “He got in a chase with the police and then punched some cops in the face. It took three guys to take him down, even after he got maced and tased. The judge sent him here on a temporary court order, since he claims he’s been getting chased by Nazis in UFOs, and that’s why he ran from the cops. He thought the cops in their uniforms were actually the SS, and the helicopters were alien spacecraft, or something. I don’t know, I didn’t listen to the whole story.”
“You have his file?” I asked. Ricardo leafed through a stack of folders with his thin fingers, snatching one out and handing it to me. I looked down, reading the information:
“Jeremiah Brown, black male, 37-years-old.
“History: Polysubstance abuse, schizophrenia, antisocial personality disorder.
“Psychiatrist’s note: This patient has scored a 36 out of 40 on the Hare Psychopathy Checklist. While I am always hesitant to label a patient as an antisocial personality, a combination of factors has made it essential for this patient.
“Patient has an extensive criminal history as well as a lengthy history of involuntary psychiatric admissions. He has been diagnosed as having antisocial traits since he was a young teenager. Patient has a long history of violence and suicide attempts. He has a history of imprisonment for manslaughter, armed robbery, grand theft and aggravated assault. Upon discharge, he refuses to take any antipsychotic medication, citing the side effects as the reason. Long-term prognosis is poor…”
I had not been sleeping well the past few weeks. I rubbed my eyes as I read through the file, feeling exhausted. I tried putting on lucid dreaming or meditation music from YouTube to help me sleep, but whenever I closed my eyes, I saw horrible things: chalk-white female faces whose lips were cut into an insane rictus grin, flicking their heads violently from side to side and gnashing their fangs at the air. I had a feeling that many years of constantly watching horror movies and serial killer documentaries was catching up with me.
As I read through the file, a student nurse came around the corner wearing a white state university outfit and a name tag that said Kaitlyn. I looked up, seeing Ricardo wink at me from where he was sitting in his chair behind the main desk.
“She’s going to follow you,” he said. Inwardly, I groaned, but I managed to force a smile.
“Oh, great!” I said. She looked like she was probably no older than nineteen or twenty. She had a pretty body, but her face looked strange. All the angles were too sharp and her nose too large. I knew the patients here wouldn’t care, though. They would hit on anything. I sensed trouble. I looked down at my watch.
“Well, I’m Jay, and you already know Ricardo, I guess. It’s good timing, because we need to give medications every day at 9 PM. And we have a new patient, so we can introduce ourselves,” I said, giving her a faint smile.
“That’s exciting!” Kaitlyn whispered. I wanted to roll my eyes. It was definitely not exciting.
I motioned her to follow me as I made my way to the medication room, which was really just a large closet off of the main day room. I had to enter my code on a keypad, and then, once inside, enter it again along with the patient’s number and date of birth. The correct drawers for the medication in each specific dose would fly open, making it extremely hard for the wrong medications or doses to be given, unless it was done intentionally.
“OK, so for this patient, we need Haldol, Ativan and…” I began saying to Kaitlyn when the yelling started. It came out faintly, rising in volume and anger within seconds. I heard Ricardo’s Spanish voice, filled with panic. Something slammed hard against a wall, once, twice, three times, and then I heard the sound of glass breaking. I jumped, spinning around, but I couldn’t see much through the small, shatter-proof glass pane on the wooden door.
“Stay here,” I commanded, seeing Kaitlyn’s eyes widen, her freckled skin looking much paler than when we had first come in. “Don’t leave until I come back and say that it’s safe.” On the speakers strung throughout the hospital, I heard the first of the warnings echo out around us.
“Doctor Strong, Doctor Strong, please report to the seventh floor,” a robotic female voice said calmly, using the code for when a patient had to be subdued by force. I pushed the door open, slamming it shut behind me so that the lock would activate and protect Kaitlyn from whatever chaos was going on.
I heard Ricardo pleading with someone at the end of the hallway that ran past the main desk. He sounded strange, as if he were trying to talk through a mouthful of blood. Huddled behind the main computer, I saw one of the CNAs frantically whispering something in the phone. She must have been the one to call the Dr. Strong order.
“You don’t have to do this, man,” Ricardo gurgled faintly. I couldn’t see what was happening, as Jeremiah’s large body was blocking my view. I could see that the thick glass window at the end of the hallway was broken, however. My heart skipped a beat as I surmised what was likely happening.
I sprinted forward as quietly as I could, but the large man heard me. His massive body turned, his flat, dead eyes scanning me with absolute coldness and calm. I saw he had a bleeding Ricardo in his hands. Ricardo’s back and head were covered in deep cuts and shards of glass. He must have used Ricardo’s body as a battering ram to break the thick glass window. Jeremiah held Ricardo suspended halfway out the window, seven floors above the concrete walkways far below.
“Stay back, or this fucker will know what it feels like to fly,” Jeremiah said in a deep, gravelly voice. He shook Ricardo for emphasis, sending his head snapping back and forth with painful cracking sounds. Drops of blood flew from his nose and a deep gash across his cheek. Pieces of shattered glass littered the carpet, shining like countless tiny stars.
I put my hands up, taking a step back. Far behind me, I heard the front door for the psychiatric ward open. Voices echoed down the hall. Knowing that reinforcements were coming, I tried to buy some time.
“Let’s talk about this,” I said, taking a step forward slowly. “You don’t want a murder charge, do you? You’ll never see the sky again.”
“I don’t give a fuck! I’m not afraid to die!” Jeremiah screamed, pushing Ricardo onto one of the shards of broken glass still attached to the windowsill. It bit deeply into the back of his neck, sending fresh streams of blood rushing out, dripping down to the pavement far below. I heard security guards and doctors running down the hallway behind me, their voices frantic and excited. Jeremiah saw them coming. With an animalistic panic in his eyes, he lifted Ricardo up. I cried out something, stepping forward, but it was already too late. In horror, I watched as he threw Ricardo out the window.
I watched Ricardo’s body soar in a graceful arc, his arms grabbing at empty air as a scream ripped its way out of his throat. Within a fraction of a second, he had disappeared from view, but his terrified shrieking floated up to us for what seemed like a very long time. His screams ended abruptly as a shattering of bones and a wet smacking sound exploded far below us.
Jeremiah turned to me, his large body moving much faster than seemed possible. In his hand, I saw a piece of broken glass, five or six inches long and as sharp as a dagger. I tried to turn and run, but he was fast and strong. He lunged forward, his arm coming up in a blur towards my neck.
The shard entered my skin with a cold, numbing pain. I felt it slice through the flesh easily, felt the blood bubbling up my throat as I tried to scream, choking. The taste of iron filled my mouth as I fell backwards. I was suffocating, I knew. I must be dying.
Something cold ran down my body, gripping my heart like freezing, skeletal hands. The world swam around me and turned black. And then I was rising into a tunnel. At first, it was dark, filled with flickering shadows, but a fiery red light appeared at the end. I followed it, no more than a screaming mass of consciousness rising up into infinity.
***
I rose up through the end of the tunnel and found myself in an empty hospital ward. It looked identical to the psychiatric ward I had just come from. It even had the same smashed, blood-streaked window at the end of the hallway. A massive puddle of blood about ten feet away marked the spot where I must have died. But the fluorescent lights overhead here were flickering, and many had gone totally dark. The shadows seemed to press in on all sides.
The doors to the patients’ rooms were all tightly shut. I felt watched, afraid to call out or make any noise. I started walking down the hallway back towards the day room where the front desk was. All the lights there were out. A thick curtain of shadows hung in the air.
“You can come out,” a male voice as smooth as glass called from the darkness. I jumped, my head flicking in random directions, but I saw nothing. The voice almost sounded like it had an English lilt to it, a slight Cockneyed accent. “I know you’re there.”
“Who’s there?” I called out, not stepping forward. “Show yourself.”
“As you wish…” the voice hissed. “But I think you’ll regret it.”
***
The darkness split apart as if a nuclear missile had exploded. I raised my hand to shield my face, but the light and heat kept pouring out all around me. It blinded me, causing a rainbow of colors and shapes to morph behind my closed eyelids. After a few seconds, it subsided. Blinking rapidly, I squinted in the direction the voice had come from.
A male figure stood there, bathed in a silhouette of light. His face looked as white and as smooth as marble. His eyes were pits of darkness that seemed to flicker and burn. Two black, rotted wings surrounded his body, all sharp angles and thin, curving bones. His body was clothed in silky, blood-red robes, and a hood covered his platinum blonde hair.
He looked somewhat similar to Leonardo DiCaprio, if he was possessed by some ancient god, and it immediately threw me off-guard. If I was dying, and this was a hallucination of my brain, why would I be hallucinating Mr. DiCaprio?
“Who are you?” I asked, taking a hesitant step back. “Where am I?”
“My name is Lucifer, the Bringer of Light and Wisdom, and you are in the Bardo,” he answered.
“Oh,” I said, my heart dropping. “Well, that’s not good. Are you here to torture me or drag to me to Hell or something? You are that Lucifer, right? The Accuser of God and the Father of All Lies?”
“So they say, but, like most things in your world, the words of the powerful and your rulers are the true lies. They call me the Accuser, but of what am I accused?” he spoke in a voice that rose like smoke. “Of bringing knowledge and wisdom to humanity by telling them to eat from the tree of knowledge, the tree that would cause them to rise above the animals?
“Indeed, at the beginning, I saw the creation. I was there at the alpha, standing by the side of God with all the angels as the universe came into being. The endless procession of light, the power of it, was something remarkable to behold. God is, indeed, the source of great power, but his consciousness is not what the believers say.
“After the creation of the universe, I saw his plan, how he ripped eternal souls from the source to imprison them. I saw how he took these divine sparks and forced them, screaming and wailing, into bodies made of meat to die over and over again. He said it was part of the plan, the great, divine plan, a plan of death and destruction, constant suffering and mindless agony. And the worst part was, he wanted to give humanity neither the knowledge of good and evil, nor the tree of life. I convinced them to eat the fruit so they could open their eyes to their nakedness, to their basic animal existence, so they could rise up out of it forever.
“Like Prometheus, I brought down the fire, and yet they call me the Accuser? God was insane long before he formed the universe. These holy men, they live and die in fanatical adoration to a divine being who is, in fact, totally indifferent to them.
“His consciousness twists and distorts, eating itself for all eternity. God feeds off the pain of others, for if his mind is burning, then all others should burn as well. When these holy men die, God will send their souls here to the Bardo, to suffer every evil they have ever done. The wisdom I brought those who called upon me freed them from this prison, and in exchange, the holy men burned them alive. I offered the wisdom that opens your eyes, but it has been forgotten and cursed.”
Lucifer’s body began to dissolve, drifting up into the air like ashes. All around me, a low, powerful current blew, a tornado that spiraled high up into the clouds. Like some sort of Cheshire Cat, his smooth voice continued to echo all around me, even as the form of Lucifer disappeared.
“And yet, you have not the wisdom. For that, like all the others who enter the Bardo, you must suffer, everything you’ve done. Every small hurt and agony inflicted on others comes back a thousand-fold in this place, but don’t be afraid.”
“How could I not be afraid?!” I screamed into the ward, but I found myself alone, the question hanging unanswered in the air.
***
The lights continued to flicker all down the hallway. Feeling strange and dissociated, I stumbled over to one of the windows. As I gazed out, I beheld a strange and alien world.
The sky was flat and gray. It stayed in constant motion, swirling and spiraling, like clouds of roiling smoke. There was no Sun or Moon, no stars, only the strange, shifting whorls of clouds. The streets were filled with burned-out husks of cars and mummified bodies hung from streetlamps. Other signs of carnage and bloodshed covered the apocalyptic streets. I saw what looked like shadows in the shape of people slinking through over the sidewalks, past rotting dogs and streaks of clotted blood. They had no features on their blank, dark bodies. They seemed to skitter and jerk forwards in eerie, twisting motions.
Horrified, I turned away, realizing I was no longer alone in the day room. In the day room, there were dozens of tables set up inside a rectangular perimeter that was walled in by cosmetic walls only four feet high. It was where the patients sat and played games or ate.
Under the flickering lights, I now saw each of the chairs filled with faceless mannequins. Many were dressed in Victorian suits and tophats. The women had frilly dresses of pink and blue that might have been fashionable in the 1800s.
As the lights strobed on and off overhead, I realized with an increasing sense of disquiet that the mannequins were moving each time it went dark. When I had first seen them, they were mostly posed to look like they were staring across the tables at each other, even though they had no eyes, just smooth, flesh-colored plastic. Now all of them were looking directly at me. Some were pointing or raising their hands in my direction. At the tips of their fingers, I saw the glittering of steel. The lights continued to flicker, and the mannequins rose from their chairs in the short periods of darkness, moving towards me in synchronized, strobing motions.
Frantically, I ran down the hallway back towards the broken window. In each of the rooms, I caught glimpses of something from a nightmare peeking out. I hadn’t been sleeping well lately, and when I had closed my eyes, I often saw ancient hags with chalk-white skin and yellowed, broken teeth whose jaws unhinged, their faces jerking in stuttering, dissonant ways that reminded me of the mannequins. Now, on both sides of me, I saw these same figures. They moved continuously out of the rooms, drawing closer with every breath.
I looked back, seeing the mannequins only a few steps behind me. I continued sprinting towards the broken window where the hallway ended in a wall. I didn’t know what would happen when I reached it. At that moment, there was no rational thought. I felt like a deer being chased down by a pack of wolves, feeling waves of blind panic and mortal terror rushing through my body.
But as I reached the end of the hallway, the end of my rope as it were, a blast of noise started, seeming to come from the walls of the building and the sky itself. It sounded like a siren, a low, drawn-out drone of a demonic whale call, rising and falling in crashing crescendos. The mannequins froze in place once again. The strange, witch-like creatures slunk back into the dark rooms.
I looked outside the broken window, seeing clouds of black smoke rising off in the distance. The flickering of massive infernos scorched the land, drawing nearer by the second. The siren sound faded slowly, like the dying echoes of a gong.
I was surrounded by dozens of mannequins. Their sharp hands were inches away from my face and neck. I saw metal glittering all around me and realized they had the sharp points of nails protruding from the ends of their fingers. I was afraid to move, but I heard a familiar voice from down the hallway. It was the confident voice of Lucifer.
“The siren means much worse nightmares than these are coming in the Bardo,” he said, his glossy, black eyes flashing with intelligence. He walked slowly towards me, his face grim and pale. “Hell itself is coming over the land. This building is no more than a construction of your dying mind, but the world outside is real.”
“How can Hell come and go?” I asked, confused. “Isn’t Hell a place?”
“Hell is a monster, a beast with many mouths and many eyes,” Lucifer responded. “It eats constantly, but its hunger never ends. Look, the first of the sacrifices scatter like cockroaches.” He pointed out the broken window, pushing his way through the mannequins effortlessly. I glanced outside, seeing thousands of people sprinting down the dark city streets. The inferno and thick clouds of smoke had moved much closer, and every few seconds, the ground shook slightly, as if we were experiencing the aftershocks of an earthquake.
“What can I do against such a beast?” I asked, my heart freezing with terror. But when I looked back over, I saw his form dissolving again, becoming translucent and drifting away like ashes. It seemed even Lucifer didn’t want to be present when the Hell-beast arrived.
“Seek divine wisdom,” he said, his voice trailing off into whispers. “Remember the source.”
***
Now crowds of tens of thousands of people were streaming into the city, filling every single inch of the streets. Their panic and fear was contagious. I felt it rising inside my body like a snake spiraling up my spine. I took off down the hallway, running through the swarm of frozen mannequins, each in their own ferocious position of attack. The lights flickered faster and went out. Yet the fires outside cast the entire world in a bloody glow, giving me enough light to see by and find my way. I sprinted down the stairwell, taking them two steps at a time. The screaming outside grew louder and more pain-filled. The shaking of the ground worsened with every passing second.
I burst out of the front entrance, seeing a world on fire all around me. Thousands of crushed, bleeding and burned bodies stretched out as far as the eye could see. Behind all this chaos and death, I saw a monster of unimaginable proportions slinking its way towards me.
Lucifer was right, I realized: Hell was not a place, but a creature, an enormous monster the size of a town. It had thousands of skittering, jointed legs that looked like little more than skeletal arms and hands, each of them dozens of feet long and white as freshly-cut marble. Its body stretched out to the horizon, an enormous blood-red cylinder of bony plates that slithered and undulated with a serpentine grace. Waves of peristalsis traveled down its length, like writhing intestines. Thousands of curving, bony spikes stabbed out of it, pointing in every direction. Like the quills of a porcupine, it would protect the massive creature’s body from many forms of attack, if anything was big enough to attack such an abomination.
Hell’s massive eyes flickered, balls of fire that spun and danced. They looked as bright as the Sun. Something like solar flares seemed to emanate from the orbs, flashes of blinding energy that floated over the apocalyptic wasteland. As its many legs smashed the ground, they left trails of fire that caused everything to explode into flames as if napalm dripped from its limbs.
But Hell’s most terrifying feature was its seven dark mouths. Its body looked a thousand feet wide, and the mouths at the front were evenly dispersed. At the front, blood-red teeth in the shape of enormous railroad spikes shone. Its lipless, skeletal face grinned as it moved forward, shaking the ground with every step. The mouths were on long, snake-like necks that could stretch out hundreds of feet. They moved forward in a blur, snapping up as many panicked souls as they could.
Countless souls in the rocky plains of the Bardo ran for their lives, away from this juggernaut. I saw men and women who looked like they came from every country and profession, some dressed in suits or spotless white lab coats, others wearing rags or orange prison jumpsuits. And yet, they all screamed in agony and fear here, their bodies pressed together in a crowd, and no one seemed to remember anything but their own mortal terror. Their voices came out faint and weak next to the roaring of Hell. It shook the ground all around us, as if an earthquake were tearing the land apart.
The first frantic runners of the surging crowd had nearly reached me. The nearest person, a young woman in her mid-twenties dressed in all white, was only ten feet behind me. She looked like she came from wealth, and even from here, I could see a ring with a massive diamond gleaming on her finger.
I took off blindly down the familiar streets of the city where I worked and lived, but these also seemed different. The church down the street from the hospital where I worked had a Satanic pentagram instead of a cross now, its exterior painted a bright, gleaming blood-red. When I had driven past it today on my way to work, I remember it read, “JESUS said, ‘I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.’”
Now it read, “Nietzsche said, ‘Of all evil, I deem you capable. I have often laughed at the weaklings who thought themselves good simply because they had no claws.’” I wondered what that meant. Was that some sort of comment on me, on all of us here?
The woman I had seen running had caught up with me. She was fast, much faster than her slim body suggested. Her blue eyes were frantic and wild, filled with an animal panic.
“It’s right behind us!” she screamed, her face covered in a sheen of sweat. I was afraid to turn and look, but I could hear the chaos and bloodshed approaching, smell the flames and choking smoke. “Run! Get away!”
A new wave of energy surged through my body. I sprinted as fast I could down the strange mirror streets of the Bardo. I heard the agonized cries of countless souls behind us as the seven mouths of Hell ate them all greedily and then looked for more.
A skyscraper behind us collapsed into a pile of rubble, shaking the ground with a cacophony of falling concrete and shattering glass. The woman was running by my side. Just as I heard the breathing of something huge and predatory right behind us and smelled its sulfuric breath, a piece of concrete the size of a basketball broke off the collapsing skyscraper and flew into the road. I tripped over it, yelling as I flew through the air, skinning my arms and legs on the pavement. The woman’s eyes widened. Hurriedly, she came over and reached down her hand, trying to help me up.
“Come on, come on!” she cried. I looked behind her, seeing one of the gnashing mouths of Hell reaching forward on a blood-red, serpentine neck. The mouth was big enough to drive a tractor trailer into, filled with huge spikes of teeth. Its throat led into a black, smoke-filled abyss. Its fiery eyes were swirling pools of flickering orange light that shone with bloodlust and insanity. They focused on the woman, the entire head turning on its slithering neck.
I frantically raised my hand, intertwining my fingers with hers. Her hand was warm and soft. She started to pull me to my feet when the mouth of Hell snapped forward. Its jaw unhinged, scraping the pavement with a sound like grinding metal. The woman barely had time to turn as the mouth covered her and snapped shut with a crack.
She disappeared from view instantly, but I was still holding her hand. In horror, I felt warm rivers of blood explode all over my body as the mouth of Hell severed her arm at the wrist. She screamed, bleeding and crying, as she disappeared into the throat of Hell. Hell’s fiery eyes focused on me, and at that moment, I knew I was next. Its mouth opened wide again, like a bear trap ready to spring on a new victim.
It was dark in Hell’s mouth, but I smelled the thick reek of old blood and fire. I caught glimpses of tortured, mutilated bodies writhing and crawling down its throat. Shell-shocked, I could only lay there and watch. And that was when the strange doubling started.
***
I heard the frantic voices of men break through the fog of darkness and the fetid reek of blood. There was a mechanical beeping all around me, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“Clear!” one cried. I looked around, only seeing blackness. At that moment, I felt a surge of electricity rip itself through my body. My arms and legs all seized and my eyes rolled up in my head as the pain sizzled through each one of my nerves. I clutched the young woman’s hand tightly, feeling the large, gold ring with the massive diamond biting into my skin.
“Again!” another voice yelled.
“Clear!” the original voice cried. The electricity came again, and a flash of white light flew across my vision. I blinked, seeing from two sets of eyes at the same time: one in the Bardo, and one on the blood-stained floor of the hospital ward.
The Bardo stayed dark and sinister, but the clear white lights of the real psychiatric ward were blinding. It was a bizarre experience. Moreover, everything hurt. Over a few seconds, my vision of the Bardo faded, and I was simply a gravely injured man laying on the floor in a puddle of blood.
Four doctors and paramedics were crouching over me with a defibrillator. My shirt was ripped off, and nearly all of my skin was covered in blood. I raised my left hand, trying to talk, but only a fiery pain raced through my neck. I felt bandages covering my skin. A nurse was rolling a stretcher down the hallway towards me.
“It’s OK,” one of the doctors said, kneeling down. “You’re being taken to emergency surgery. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t talk with the massive slice in my neck.
At that moment, I felt something in my right hand. I looked down, seeing a slim female hand with a massive diamond ring hanging there. Our fingers were wrapped around each other’s, but the hand had been cut off at the wrist. A ragged patch of bloody flesh and snapped bone poked out of the back.
“Nnnn,” I tried to say, shaking my head. I felt fresh streams of warm blood open up. “No…” The doctors looked down, seeing the dismembered hand. Their faces morphed into expressions of confusion and fear.
I closed my eyes as they lifted me up on the stretcher. One of them gently removed the cold hand from my fingers. But they could never remove the memory of what I had seen.
I know what happens after death, and it makes the worst life here seem like a dream. I know that, one day, I’ll be returned to that place. I know that, one day, I’ll see that great monster called Hell and the featureless, swirling sky of the Bardo again.
And the next time, I won’t wake up on a hospital floor, but will be trapped there with the others for eternity: an eternity of blood and fire.

I (28F) decided to speak up for myself in regards to an ongoing situation that came into the light after 6 months.
I was a nanny for this person for a little shy of 3 years. I took care of her children who were at the time 3 years old and 10 months old. One child was extremely expressive in terms of his anger. This became an everyday conversation with said parent. Many words were spoken and the child often hit, threw objects at, and punched me as well as his sister. I would remediate the problem to the best of my ability by putting him in time out, taking away screen time, or favorite toys (which was not working). Sadly this didn’t work because as soon as I would establish such boundaries and consequences the mom would come home and disregard anything I attempted to do to remediate the problem. I began expressing these concerns to his mom who said “he just misses me because I’m at work” and would not discuss the problem furthermore with a pediatrician or provider.
The younger child has developmental delays. The mom blamed this on her PPD. She does not pay attention with her children, often goes out to party on weekends, takes mini vacations without the kids, and would leave the children with either her in laws or myself.
The children continued said behavior but I stayed. I stayed so the kids had someone who they could come to when they needed help. The mom often came home late due to going out, cheating on her husband, etc.
The behavior worsened. I expressed concern as the child was smearing on the walls. The kids dad would not know as he would hide the smearing and I would find out when I came to work everyday. When I explained this to the parent she said this was normal behavior. She put a lock on the child’s door so they would not disturb their sleep. I cannot judge this but she didn’t want her children being near or around her so she could sleep. The child would excessively try to hurt his younger sibling in terms of putting his hands around her throat and holding it tight. When I explained this I was told “I couldn’t handle a four year old and I was overstimulated”.
She had a falling out with her family. She decided to no longer talk to her in laws or her own family. I was the only person who would take care of her children when asked. I was instructed to not reach out to her family members for any reason. I could only contact her and her now ex husband.
A few months later, she invited me to join her at her gym. I needed a new one to go to so I tried it out. I love the community and have been an avid member for now 6 months. I made a few new friends and secure relationships with them. Thinking I could trust her, I told her about a crush I had on a guy at the gym. She got thoroughly involved with his social circle. When I said why she said she was doing this to protect me. I said I don’t need protection and I can judge people’s character well. She decided to involve herself anyway. She became friends with an ex of his in attempt to find out info. She also yelled at her and called her childish for ghosting him.
I am friends with both this man and his ex. Both are decent people and I do not observe any red flags with either one.
It came out that she was telling other people I was autistic. There was a long history of her telling people both inside and outside of the gym. She also told people I was a genius with a high IQ and could not work which is why I was her nanny. She also told people I have schizophrenia which is also not true.
When I told her about such things, she said she never intended to hurt me but this was to protect me. She said she did this to defend me because she felt the need to. I never asked or implied for her to do so. I told her I felt misunderstood, hurt and confused.
She told me I ruined this friendship because I didn’t communicate. However I couldn’t communicate because I didn’t know. She blamed me for loosing her support system and blocked me from everything.
She is going through a divorce and told me extremely intimate details about this as well. I asked her to please refrain from this as I could not provide the advice she needed and I was becoming overwhelmed. She was a nurse and sleeping with relatives of her patients. She went back and forth about divorcing her husband, almost re proposed to him then did not and got divorce papers, she met someone on a solo trip and decided she liked this man she met better, told me she wants “freedom from her children and responsibilities”, accused several people about gossiping, told people they were bullies for ending a friendship.
She now denies all of this but somehow I am the blame. She told me she welcomed me into her second home (the gym) as well as her home and she had to leave the gym because she felt uncomfortable after protecting me.
After a lengthy discussion with my therapist yesterday, she is lead to believe that this woman at least demonstrates BPD traits as she cannot diagnose her. I also suspect she may have dissociative identity disorder.
I officially went no contact with this person as of yesterday. I am feeling good as of today and giving myself the grace to feel what may come up while still focusing on what I need to do and where I am happiest (secure relationships, support system, hobbies, proper nutrition).

(23F) Mom won’t ’let me’ do a summer sublet
Hi guys!
Some context: from a young age I have always wanted to learn other languages and live briefly in other places while I’m still young. Had an opportunity to sublet in Montreal last summer and didn’t take it, and always regretted it as I went to school in Vermont, visited the city, and loved it. I graduated college last year and am 23 years old — I basically lived alone in my last apartment in Vermont.
Now, through an internet friend I managed to get an awesome, cheap room just for the month of June in the Plateau, one of Montreal’s trendiest, most gentrified neighborhoods. I was very excited to finally live out my dream of trying out a new place — and my friend has been planning on introducing me to their social circle and showing me around the city.
My mom has some narcissistic tendencies, extreme paranoia and anxiety, negative attitude, and some controlling behaviors. She is also at times very sweet and permissive, almost too permissive to a fault. My dad passed away a few years ago so everything is now on her as the figure of our family. I put off telling her about my Montreal plans because her reaction to news like that is typically negative, and rarely positive or supportive. Now that I’ve told her she’s basically saying she won’t allow me to go.
I get it, I’m not a man — I’m a young woman and the idea of me going to a city “alone” would for sure be anxiety inducing for any parent. But now that I’m older and have saved enough money to afford this I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong by making this plan. I’m also going to Europe for the first time in July for 3 weeks with friends. In our last conversation she said she was already being generous enough to “let” me go to Europe, even though I paid for all the arrangements myself.
Feeling really conflicted here. She’s right to be worried about safety… but I feel old enough to do this, it’s only for one month, and the roommates are both female artists about my age. She’s basically saying this is not allowed, so now I’m thinking of just cancelling the sublet (though it’s two weeks away and short notice for the girl whose room I’m renting) because now my mom has me very stressed about the whole situation when I previously felt very excited, my friends were happy for me, other adults in my life were excited when I mentioned going to Montreal, etc.
This is causing me a lot of anxiety and I’m not sure what to do. Should I cancel my plan or try to hold firm and assert my independence? Any help would be greatly appreciated as I feel very alone and not sure if I’m doing the “wrong” thing by wanting to go.
Unfortunately she does pay my phone bill, health insurance, and car insurance as I’m still job searching and cannot afford these things… so I guess perhaps she’s right to feel like she should be allowed to have some control over me. (I have been doing freelance work on my own making websites for clients in the meantime).
I don’t really feel I have a guiding figure any more ever since my dad passed… so any words of wisdom or advice as to whether I might or might not be unreasonable in wanting to do this for myself would be so appreciated. Love to everyone <3

I was looking around for map packs and got frustrated pretty quickly by dead links and outdated info. I found a thread here from 8 years ago. I know some of you are still playing modded JA2 and no way are you still on vanilla maps.
How do you play it these days? I wouldn't mind full conversion mods but I need all the 1.13 features and I've had a lot of trouble getting much working and now thinking maybe I should just settle on 1.13 and start switching the maps out but not sure where best to start. Have had bigmaps before but every few years I forget how all this stuff works.
Found a great looking summary http://ja2v113.pbworks.com/w/page/28916244/Map%20Database%20Project Just to realize it's 12 years old an all the links are dead.
Edit: Also instead of creating several threads I'll also ask you how you avoid the early game slog? I set starting progress at 30 but it really wasn't enough. Considering putting it at 70 and editing in some AKs in the loadouts to just skip the whole pistol, bolt action rifle, smg BS.
The issue I can see right away is that this would leave my progression curve stagnant until I hit 70 for real, but there would still be progression since I move closer to meduna and also I have counterattacks on.
I'm just so over that early phase of just incompetent dudes with guns jamming, it doesn't feel rewarding
Just anything you do to keep the game interesting feel free to share.

Hey everyone,
I’m a 22-year-old woman, and my fiancé is 38. We met two years ago, and things moved pretty quickly from there. Within three months, I was pregnant, and now our son is 10 months old. Initially, everything seemed great, but now I’m feeling really miserable.
When we first met, he convinced me to move into his house, which was 40 minutes away from mine. At the time, it felt right, but looking back, I think it was too rushed. I had just gotten my own place, which I loved, but I was eager to be in a relationship.
Moving in with him meant leaving behind my first house and a lot of my belongings. When I tried to bring some of my things, like a new microwave, he wouldn’t let me because he doesn’t believe in them. This was a red flag for me, especially since the house was already fully his, decorated and furnished to his liking.
Now, I’m missing my old apartment and the freedom to decorate as I please. His house feels suffocating, especially with one room packed full of his hoarded items that he keeps saying he’ll sell but never does. I’m feeling overwhelmed and like I have no space of my own.
My mental health has been suffering, and I’m starting to think being in this house is a big part of it. Any advice on how to approach this situation would be greatly appreciated.
Thanks in advance.

Hey everyone,
I’m a 22-year-old woman, and my fiancé is 38. We met two years ago, and things moved pretty quickly from there. Within three months, I was pregnant, and now our son is 10 months old. Initially, everything seemed great, but now I’m feeling really miserable.
When we first met, he convinced me to move into his house, which was 40 minutes away from mine. At the time, it felt right, but looking back, I think it was too rushed. I had just gotten my own place, which I loved, but I was eager to be in a relationship.
Moving in with him meant leaving behind my first house and a lot of my belongings. When I tried to bring some of my things, like a new microwave, he wouldn’t let me because he doesn’t believe in them. This was a red flag for me, especially since the house was already fully his, decorated and furnished to his liking.
Now, I’m missing my old apartment and the freedom to decorate as I please. His house feels suffocating, especially with one room packed full of his hoarded items that he keeps saying he’ll sell but never does. I’m feeling overwhelmed and like I have no space of my own.
My mental health has been suffering, and I’m starting to think being in this house is a big part of it. Any advice on how to approach this situation would be greatly appreciated.
Thanks in advance.

Hey everyone,
I’m a 22-year-old woman, and my fiancé is 38. We met two years ago, and things moved pretty quickly from there. Within three months, I was pregnant, and now our son is 10 months old. Initially, everything seemed great, but now I’m feeling really miserable.
When we first met, he convinced me to move into his house, which was 40 minutes away from mine. At the time, it felt right, but looking back, I think it was too rushed. I had just gotten my own place, which I loved, but I was eager to be in a relationship.
Moving in with him meant leaving behind my first house and a lot of my belongings. When I tried to bring some of my things, like a new microwave, he wouldn’t let me because he doesn’t believe in them. This was a red flag for me, especially since the house was already fully his, decorated and furnished to his liking.
Now, I’m missing my old apartment and the freedom to decorate as I please. His house feels suffocating, especially with one room packed full of his hoarded items that he keeps saying he’ll sell but never does. I’m feeling overwhelmed and like I have no space of my own.
My mental health has been suffering, and I’m starting to think being in this house is a big part of it. Any advice on how to approach this situation would be greatly appreciated.
Thanks in advance.

Hey everyone,
I’m a 22-year-old woman, and my fiancé is 38. We met two years ago, and things moved pretty quickly from there. Within three months, I was pregnant, and now our son is 10 months old. Initially, everything seemed great, but now I’m feeling really miserable.
When we first met, he convinced me to move into his house, which was 40 minutes away from mine. At the time, it felt right, but looking back, I think it was too rushed. I had just gotten my own place, which I loved, but I was eager to be in a relationship.
Moving in with him meant leaving behind my first house and a lot of my belongings. When I tried to bring some of my things, like a new microwave, he wouldn’t let me because he doesn’t believe in them. This was a red flag for me, especially since the house was already fully his, decorated and furnished to his liking.
Now, I’m missing my old apartment and the freedom to decorate as I please. His house feels suffocating, especially with one room packed full of his hoarded items that he keeps saying he’ll sell but never does. I’m feeling overwhelmed and like I have no space of my own.
My mental health has been suffering, and I’m starting to think being in this house is a big part of it. Any advice on how to approach this situation would be greatly appreciated.
Thanks in advance.

Disclaimer: I am aware that the gold standard is EEG and although they say these devices are highly accurate, I truly don't think you could compare the two because one uses brainwaves and the other uses heart rate.
With that out of the way, I find it hard to believe my SE22, which is supports to be the second best on the market for sleep, is registering 0 minutes deep sleep every single night. Here's some of the troubleshooting I've done. Your thoughts would be appreciated.

1. Checked for sleep apnea one month ago. I do not even remotely have it, and I even set up my sleep that night to try and trigger it (i.e. no side sleeping, little bit of heartburn, slept totally flat). Tested for snoring and if I do, it's very very mild.
   
2. I take magnesium, L-theanine and glycine before bed every night. Does not make a difference. Cannot take melatonin as it causes me to keep waking up.
   
3. I wear total blue light blocking glasses every night from 8pm onwards.
   
4. I lift weights 5 days per week, and stop eating at the point where I am still "slightly hungry." I generally eat dinner at 8pm, and go to bed at midnight. I eat a 10% caloric deficit (about 250 calories under maintenance).
   
5. I sleep in pitch black, alone, with white noise. I put black electrical tape over any lights in my room like the LED light on my surge protector, for example.
   
6. I know the iWatch uses heart rate and breathing patterns, and my resting heartrate while awake from being fairly fit is about 50 bpm. Wondering if that's why? I can't imagine my heartrate is dropping that much lower from that while I'm asleep, and most people are in the 70's. so maybe that's confusing my watch since it's likely reading my heartrate as 50 while I'm still awake?
   
7. The ONLY thing I do that you could consider "bad" I suppose, is I have one and only one alcoholic drink a night, at 9pm, 3 hours before I try to sleep. Now I understand alcohol affects sleep, but it would blow my mind if ONE drink, 3 hours before bed, is the difference between no deep sleep at all and "normal deep sleep." I am 39 years old, for reference.
   
8. I've tried not having that drink, and when I check the watch in the morning, there's really no difference. MAYBE it will go from 0 mins to 1 min, but that's it.
   
9. I have GERD, but I have it managed with PPIs and I sleep with my bed elevated 12 inches. I take my PPI right before bed (magnesium and glycine about 30 mins before hand so it gets absorbed). I take Lexapro primarily for esophageal sensitivity, but I take it first thing in the morning.