Stories of husbands crossdressing

Helloooo Charlot, I love you so much you are so funny and close to the heart I feel like I am sitting with my friends back home talking gossips when I watch your videos hahahaa . So sorry if my English is not good
First of all I want to apologize. My story is not funny but I really need advice I cant sleep and always thinking I cry in my prayers ask Allah for forgiveness and can not trust anyone.
I am female 28 from Egypt living in Dubai now
First of all I have to tell you I was Raised in Egypt from a middle class family .. buuuuut we always lived like poor, my father loved saving money he didn't like spending money at all even meat or chickens we only had it once a week growing up. Still I have to be fair, my father was a great man he is the best husband and father really always loving and caring for us. May he rest in peace. But I never felt like my mom loved him she always used to complain about him wishing him to die even saying in his face I wish you die and we enjoy your money. I cant blame my mom, still I never agreed with her. After his death she bought us a new home in a fancy neighborhood in Cairo and tried to fit in with the community, but it was always as clear as the sun that we don't belong there.
I got married to an Egyptian guy from a very rich family he was born and raised in Dubai (Arranged mirage), His father is the sweetest man ever I call him father and I really feel like Allah gave me this man replacing the hole in my heart after losing my dear father. Even his mother is a really nice lady she is so classy and since my mirage 5 years ago she never put her nose in our business or anything even we live in the same street. She teached me how to eat, dress, speak like a Dubai lady, me always asking her what is her opinion and she give me her comments in the nicest way possible
Nooow where is the problem... since the beginning of my mirage I was unable to get pregnant we waited for almost two years which is a long time for a middle eastern family, finally when we visited me and my husband discovered that I have issues and need to be treated. My mom called my husband from Egypt asked him to not tell anyone about this thinking that people might think less of me (( WE ARE NOT IN EGYPT ANYMORE)) No one have this mentality here. She was so scared that he might divorce me for this reason and she loses all of this, but deep inside I know hw would never do that he took me to biggest hospitals allover Dubai. Later on I got to know that when people asked her about my pregnancy she used to lie and tell that my husband have issues, Which means people will think less of him now. I got really mad at her but I cant show it (in our culture we can not raise our voices to the parents).
My mother in law we will call her (Su) got to know about the rumor, she spoke to me and she was very angry. Stupid me told my mom about this and they both fought it was kind of big drama lasted for sometime but it all ended when I got pregnant.. My husband funded the entire trip for my mother to come take care of me during my pregnancy this was the first time my mom leave Egypt she was so happy and honestly I was even happier for her specially my husband family have nice home and cars she really lived like a queen for three month everyday Su send us breakfast, lunch, and dinner with the driver.
They started talking to each other again like nothing ever happened, alhamdulilha I have a very beautiful baby girl she is a gift frim god.
Su's friends wanted to visit me to give gifts and pray for the baby.. that day my mom insistent she will cook Egyptian local food for them and show then the actual Egyptian culture. They came and left we had fun and everything went amazing. In the evening Su called me to check on me, my phone was in speaker and mom was next to me.... As usual I asked ((How was the presentation and everything)) Su answered (( the food was good but I have a comment, next time wipe the dished and glasses you can not give people wet dished, but it is ok I guess they understand your mom used to live in the village and she is doing the best she knows))
Now I knowwww this was rude but believe me I know Su very well she doesn't mean anything bad and if she knew my mom is hearing she wouldn't say that. After closing with Su my mom started shouting saying why do you allow her talking to you like that and she raised her voice till my husband woke up and the moment she saw him coming down she started crying telling him please book my tickets I will go back to the village I know your mom were never proud of us as in-laws she is always treating me so bad she shouted at me couple of times (never happened) and she kept saying many other lies then she told him you can ask your wife.. I didn't know what to do and I don't know why even I got mad at Su that time and I agreed to my mom lies.
My husband called Su and said the meanest things I ever heard him saying to her (you also came from a village, if you forgot your roots you can visit your brothers in Egypt bla bla bla)
OMG I wrote tooooo much... short cut ((the drama kept evaluating))
since I guess 2020 Su never entered our home even her relationship with her son became sooooo bad because my mom kept saying more lies and honestly I also did say a lot and I cut my daughter off from that house I never felt guilt I never thought about god punishment till recently.
I got a call from Su she was crying she said I will never forgive you even after life I will ask god to take my revenge from you and your mother you destroyed my home and family and your mother is texting my husband what she wants from him, she told me I pray everyday to God that your daughter do to you the same as my son did to me.. she said many things I couldn't forget
Apparently my mom is texting my father in law and I have no idea what type of conversation they are having that made her swallow her pride and call me.. later on I got to know that she left the home and staying with her daughter.
I feel horrible, I suddenly realized how amazing this woman is.. the pain we caused to her.. honestly I am thinking of telling my Husband the truth but I am so scared of him I cant trust him also now.. He hurt his mother soooo easy what will he do with me.
I feel like I don't love or trust him anymore after he cut his mother off.. even if it was for me she is his mother.. he will do the same with me someday or another
and my mother I am so angry at her she destroyed the family and now she is going to destroy my life also if my husband get to know what is happening between her and his father and she did all of that because she is jealous of Su ... I know i am kind of answering myself but I caaaant sleep I want to tell the truth but for sure my life will be destroyed I will lose my husband AND my mother ... Plus I dont think Su will go back even after I say the truth .. I feel like they will not bother apologize to her at this point as well which will kill her
it is better for her and for everyone like this but I just feel so guilty .. please advise me everyone
I have toooo many things in my heart to say but i already wrote tooo much I need to talk with someone

I really just need to talk about my present situation; I just turned 26, and my soon-to-be ex-husband and I met four years ago while active duty in the military, and I recently chose to end our relationship. I own a home and will be putting it on the market next week, essentially starting again in my life, because my only alternative is to move back in with my parents, which feels like a tremendous step down.
I am particularly interested in mental health and self-healing, as well as generational trauma. My "husband" is absolutely not and can be rather sexist at times. He believes he has no faults, & due to a lack of empathy and communication in our relationship, I felt like a mother to a man child rather than an equal.
His main goal is to become the next big millionaire, constantly seeking for the next best business idea since he feels that individuals who shop at the Dollar General are losers and that working a traditional 9-5 job makes you a "slave" to the government. These last four years have been difficult because he has pursued multiple business ideas without informing me of any of them, some of which required him to take out random loans as "collateral" so that if anything happened to him, it would all fall on me, and 99% of the time he does not even talk to me about his business and financial activities.
I'm assuming he only wanted me in his life as a "asset"; our relationship was wonderful only when I cooked, cleaned, and kept my mouth shut as if we were living in the 1950s. When I started talking about some of the things he does/did that I didn’t necessarily agree with, he would/will turn it all around on me, insulting me and honestly telling me that I will never succeed in life.
I can't help but be sad about this situation; we still live together, so his moods have been really up and down with me; one second he is loving and caring, and the next he is back to trying to bring me down, saying I'll be alone for the rest of my life because I'm just a "mentally ill typical female" and that asking for reassurance and communication in a relationship will be the downfall of the next person I'm with, and he can't wait to watch me suffer as a result.
I know I'm making the right decision by ending this relationship, but there's still a part of me that believes what he says and has been telling me for the past few years. I'm feeling quite alone and disappointed right now, and I know that when I return to my parents home in a few days, everything will hit me harder and have a stronger psychological impact. I have had suicidal thoughts in the past because life is stressful, and I do not want to go down that route again.
I also feel like I'm a shell of the person I used to be, and I really need any inspirational words or stories about how everything will eventually work out and things will get better.

So long story short, my husband (we haven’t been together very long, we got married really fast) has anxiety and I try to be there as much as I can. I am someone who has quite a short tempehot temper and I can get defensive very quickly when I’m not at fault. Anyway, I was talking to my husband and he was saying how he knows that I love him a lot but he feels like I love him but I’m not in love with him. He was saying that in relationships you need to make sacrifices - not massive ones but adapt to changes to work with your partner etc. he was saying that maybe I haven’t been in a proper relationship before and that really hit me. I actually haven’t. I’ve not had good relationships and maybe I am the problem? I try to be as good as I can and I know I’m not perfect. I think internally I’m insecure because he’s been in a relationship for 7 years with someone and I’ve only known him less than a year and in my head I keep comparing myself to a girl I don’t know that he’s been with for years? I know he loves me but I don’t know how to get better in myself to be better for him. I just think does he really love me, then I think about how I want to go on holiday with him and stuff and I think about how he’s already gone to places with his ex so I’m like what’s even the point
I’m actually sat here crying, I feel so insecure and I’m not normally like this. He never wants to upset me And puts me first but I don’t know if I’m putting him first, I’ve helped him with a lot of stuff but maybe I’m thinking about how I’ve helped him with stuff but haven’t actually been there for him emotionally. I don’t know how to do that

Super long story short, I (25 F) think I might finally be losing weight, husband and I have been trying for a baby for two years with no luck. Finally got a referral to see an endocrinologist and after blood work, she wants to put me on Wegovy to lower my A1c and insulin that will help regulate my cycle and result in pregnancy. My cycles have been like 1-5 periods a year, after trying to get it for several weeks insurance has denied any and all request for any anything similar to Wegovy unless I have type 2 diabetes and need to get on ozempic. Finally having enough and being stressed, I started running again, I used to run in high school and it was such a good stress reliever. And the last 6 weeks I’m down over 10 pounds, started at 199 and down to 187 as of this morning. Trying to enjoy this really small win after yearrrrs of being stuck between 197-205lbs.

Hi everyone, I hope you're well today. I'm happy to have found this community and was hoping to get some insight re: your experience living where you do.
I'm a 37 year old Black mom to a 2 year old boy. My husband and I are fortunate to have financial stability, work remotely and have a good overall quality of life. We live in a majority white area in Connecticut but we've felt safe and mostly welcomed since moving from Brooklyn in 2022. However, my son is still very young and i'm not sure what the experience would be if he were in elementary or high school.
There have been some news stories re: rampant racism within the school district of a nearby town we were considering moving to (see: https://abc7ny.com/westport-school-system-racism-connecticut-board-of-education/14434226/). It led me to ask myself where my son will feel safe, welcomed, and embraced once he starts school. The current socio-political climate feels erosive and i'm not sure when or how the pendulum will swing into balance.
All this to ask: where do you feel safe? Where are you and your children thriving? Is there a specific area (US or otherwise) of your city, neighborhood or town that feels sane, racially/ethnically diverse, humane, and friendly? Or am I living in a fantasy and searching for utopia?

Hi everyone, I hope you're well today. I'm happy to have found this community and was hoping to get some insight re: your experience living where you do.
I'm a 37 year old Black mom to a 2 year old boy. My husband and I are fortunate to have financial stability, work remotely and have a good overall quality of life. We live in a majority white area in Connecticut but we've felt safe and mostly welcomed since moving from Brooklyn in 2022. However, my son is still very young and i'm not sure what the experience would be if he were in elementary or high school.
There have been some news stories re: rampant racism within the school district of a nearby town we were considering moving to (see: https://abc7ny.com/westport-school-system-racism-connecticut-board-of-education/14434226/). It led me to ask myself where my son will feel safe, welcomed, and embraced once he starts school. The current socio-political climate feels erosive and i'm not sure when or how the pendulum will swing into balance.
All this to ask: where do you feel safe? Where are you and your children thriving? Is there a specific area (US or otherwise) of your city, neighborhood or town that feels sane, racially/ethnically diverse, humane, and friendly? Or am I living in a fantasy and searching for utopia?

I really just need to talk about my present situation; I just turned 26, and my soon-to-be ex-husband and I met four years ago while active duty in the military, and I recently chose to end our relationship. I own a home and will be putting it on the market next week, essentially starting again in my life, because my only alternative is to move back in with my parents, which feels like a tremendous step down.
I am particularly interested in mental health and self-healing, as well as generational trauma. My "husband" is absolutely not and can be rather sexist at times. He believes he has no faults, & due to a lack of empathy and communication in our relationship, I felt like a mother to a man child rather than an equal.
His main goal is to become the next big millionaire, constantly seeking for the next best business idea since he feels that individuals who shop at the Dollar General are losers and that working a traditional 9-5 job makes you a "slave" to the government. These last four years have been difficult because he has pursued multiple business ideas without informing me of any of them, some of which required him to take out random loans as "collateral" so that if anything happened to him, it would all fall on me, and 99% of the time he does not even talk to me about his business and financial activities.
I'm assuming he only wanted me in his life as a "asset"; our relationship was wonderful only when I cooked, cleaned, and kept my mouth shut as if we were living in the 1950s. When I started talking about some of the things he does/did that I didn’t necessarily agree with, he would/will turn it all around on me, insulting me and honestly telling me that I will never succeed in life.
I can't help but be sad about this situation; we still live together, so his moods have been really up and down with me; one second he is loving and caring, and the next he is back to trying to bring me down, saying I'll be alone for the rest of my life because I'm just a "mentally ill typical female" and that asking for reassurance and communication in a relationship will be the downfall of the next person I'm with, and he can't wait to watch me suffer as a result.
I know I'm making the right decision by ending this relationship, but there's still a part of me that believes what he says and has been telling me for the past few years. I'm feeling quite alone and disappointed right now, and I know that when I return to my parents home in a few days, everything will hit me harder and have a stronger psychological impact. I have had suicidal thoughts in the past because life is stressful, and I do not want to go down that route again.
I also feel like I'm a shell of the person I used to be, and I really need any inspirational words or stories about how everything will eventually work out and things will get better.

Hey guys! I could shout from the rooftops about now! My Rybelsus script got approved by my insurance and I’m so so so excited!! Not only will I manage my hormones and blood sugar better, but on top of my diet and exercise, I will finally lose the weight and God willing fix my insulin resistance and get my periods back to normal!!! I feel so positive right now! I just need to tell my husband we need to be super strict on condoms because we do not want a baby right now!!! I’ve read plenty of stories with semiglutide babies! I hope everyone has a good day!

I can feel a long post coming in the air tonight... 🎶
It was a few months ago when my fiance proposed!! We went on a trip, he proposed when we were alone in a beautiful place and I was extremely happy on this day, it was one of the best days of my life. But... the next day was a disaster! I called my cousin, lets call her Gina, and told her that I was getting married, I called because she was one of my best friends and we have been close all my life. Gina lives in a different city from me, but we managed to get together often, she stayed with me for a year after college and generally I thought we had a bf-cousin relationship.
I was always in a better position than her financially but I've always given her everything I could, I'd buy her clothes, I've been paying her drinks and meals whenever we got out and always trying to make her feel welcomed and safe.
l called to tell her the news but I specifically asked her not to tell my parents until I was home from the trip. I wanted to have the pleasure to tell that I am getting married to my parents myself. I am a lonely child and my parents were waiting this moment for a long time since I am kind of "old" in their minds. As you have guessed Gina CALLED my parents before I could return from the trip and tell them...
What a b*tch!!!
We had no idea, we were so happy, when we returned from the trip we first went to my in laws who are really lovely people!! His mother baked and neighbors were coming and my SIL came all wishing us the best and everybody where happy about us.
After that we went to my parents to announce the news and I was very excited.
Their reaction was I quote "ok nice, now please send an email for me (something related to their work)"
I was devastated, I had a panic attack and left crying at that moment. Actually I opened the door and stormed out while my fiance was trying to catch our cat that went running behind me. We saved the cat!!🐈
My parents didn't speak to me for 3 days and they were very mad. Remember, I didn't know that Gina blabbed about me and I thought that they were just indifferent or didn't liked my fiance.
After 3 days my mum called and informed me that Gina told them before I could return from the trip and they were angry because my first thought was to tell my friends that I am going to get married and not to my parents!! Personally idk why they were so shocked, since we aren't so close and I think my best friends ( including Gina) as more of my family (and the cat).
Gina didn't have the right to tell, I texted her but she avoided me and then I was so mad I didn't speak to her for three weeks.
I went to her city to straight things out and when I got there, she hides behind her fiance. He was mad with me for not contacting them for 3 weeks ( i think he just found something to grab on ) and I asked my cousin directly why you spoke to my parents when I told you not to and she didn't speak back to me. Her "lawyer" did the indictment and I said to him to stay out of this and that Gina can speak her mind without his "help and guidance". Finally she started talking and without the presence of our dear "lawyer", she told me that she called to tell my parents out of excitement and among other things she said that her fiance announced that they were getting married to facebook first!! And that was the way her parents found out .....you see where this is going right?? She was frustrated that she didn't have the time to announce this to her parents properly and i don't know why in this f** world but maybe she thought that I had to pass through the same sh*t.
I left silently because really I didn't want to lose a cousin over this, a mess that I didn't initiated.
Now regarding her wedding, Gina is not well financially so she struggles with the wedding costs and also she asked me to be her MoH, really I think it's because she doesn't have other friends, she hangouts only with the friends of her fiance. I accepted of course before all this happened and I planned and saved to give Gina 5.000$ for her wedding. After this story, I only gave her 500$ which she thanked me a week later with just a typical "Thanks".
Everyone is expecting, because i am more financially stable than my cousins ( Gina and her brothers), to support my cousin at her wedding, but I am f** tired. I am tired of giving everything I can, since I was little, so they don't feel less or unequal, I was trying always to be very careful with that balance. All I ever had in mind was their best interest and considered them the brothers and sisters I never had.
I recently gave my cousin ( her brother ) my used car without asking for money and even paid for his insurance and other costs and he didn't even had time for coffee. I asked him 3 times to go for coffee or dinner, that I would pay, just to celebrate his new car and he never came.
When I think of my proposal I get all teary because that day I won a husband but lost a friend and cousin.
I've always dreamed that Gina would have the best wedding but now my heart can't reach the generosity I thought I had, plus when i went to her city she didn't come to greet me.
This is how you slowly become the bad relative, the Scrooge McDuck relative who doesnt ever give to other relatives.
Also my fiance is furious with all of them. And the cat, the cat is mad with all of us.
I dont want to be the MoH but she doesn't have any other friends (and I don't like the groom) If I resing all the other relatives will wonder why I am not her MoH since we had been very close.
Thoughts???
Thank you and sorry for the long post!!!
Ps: I am used to that kind of behavior from my parents so it doesn't matter anymore!!

Tl;Dr: my mom is mad I won't let her or her boyfriend hold my newborn after he travels internationally. I'm annoyed.
So I'm due with my second baby at the end of August. My mom's boyfriend lives in England and we live in America. He is planning on visiting the first week of September. I don't have the best relationship with my mom, but it's... fine. I had my first baby during lockdown, pre vaccine, so we had to be careful then too. When my sister had hers, my mom stayed with her for two weeks to "help" and that would be a situation I would never agree to anyway lol.
Her boyfriend is actually a great guy. It's a bit of an odd story, but I've known him all my life and he and my late dad were good friends. I'm looking forward to his visit, but out of precaution for my newborn, I don't feel comfortable with him holding her after he's traveled from England, stayed a few days in New York City, then makes his way to my mom's house.
I told this to my mom on Mother's Day and it didn't go over well. She had apparently made plans of taking an extended leave from work both for his visit, and to help with my newborn. I never agreed to that, and will not be changing my mind. I told her I'm also not comfortable with her holding and cuddling my newborn when he's here because if he has any sicknesses, she would be carrying it too. I'm fine with visits if the boyfriend says they're feeling fine, just not holding the baby.
My mom was a nightmare during COVID and was deceitful then too. Another weird story, but I found out through the local news of all places she was lying to me about visiting family who are huge COVID deniers and were living life as if COVID weren't a thing. I wasn't falling for it anyway and still not letting her visit, but I was furious she had been lying. It wasn't surprising though.
My immediate family avoided COVID until last year when she showed up for our scheduled plans with COVID, said nothing, and accidentally sneezed in my husband's face. I would trust her boyfriend to tell me if anything we're going on, but I know for a fact my mom wouldn't and I don't want to risk it.
This is really just a vent since it feels like even out of the pandemic, my mom is trying to push every boundary again when she is my children's grandma and should be on board with not giving a literal newborn any risks to sickness. She is the most drama filled person I know and is just exhausting in general. I'm good at holding boundaries and cannot and will not be persuaded, but the fact it has to be like this is just beyond annoying.

Our relationship didn’t start the best I could say. I’ve been with my gf for about 5 months (29M) (26F) and everything is fine the typical fights and what not(we live together) but I’ve been living with paranoia that she might cheat on me or talk to other men.
I met her late 2022 and it was all fun and we got along,she did talk to multiple men while I was talking to her but it’s fair since we were not together, she did say that she had the biggest crush on me for a year and was waiting for me to ask her out but to her it seemed like I never liked her.
Around summer time I get a call from a man trying to talk to me and I soon discovered that that man was her husband and he told me that they were married and everything and I felt that pretty heartbroken but I went to ask her for her side of the story. She told me that she was married but they were separated and planning to divorce. She said she separated before moving and that they weren’t a thing and I believed her story.
I didn’t ask her out till January this year. When I asked her out she immediately said yes but then she told me she was actually talking to another man and she told me she needed to break things off first with him. She meet him around the same time I met her but seems like things got more serious with him (she was staying at his place a lot, leaving her pets there, met his mom, going on road trips etc) and I was like dam. I told her so you have a whole boyfriend out there and she said no that they weren’t dating. So I took back what I said about being my gf and gave her the option to decide, it took her 4 days and only because I gave her a deadline.
tl;dr Now we are together but now I feel paranoid that something will happen to me. Should I feel this way?

I feel guilty even asking this but I feel like I really need an outside perspective.
My daughter recently turned 4 and we have always felt that she was a bit “slow”. Before you ask, she does not get a lot of screen time (about 1-2 hours a week total) and we do a lot of enriching family activities- libraries, parks, museums etc. However, from a young age she has always taken a long time to absorb new information and she seems to have poor short and long term memory as well as poor critical thinking skills.
She only learned colors after age 3. At age 4 she can recognize maybe 2-3 letters consistently and 1-2 numbers consistently. She cannot identify some basic shapes like rectangle and oval. It is extremely difficult for her to learn new letters/numbers/shapes no matter how many times and ways she is exposed to it. Note that we never force her to sit down and “work”, but we make sure she has plenty learning exposure through play/life.
Often after I read her a book she will be unable to answer a basic question about the story even though she appears to have been focusing. She is often unable to answer age appropriate critical thinking questions (ex: “why do you think that gardener built a tall fence around his garden?”). She almost always has trouble recalling new words/information even immediately after she learns it (ex: “this soft green plant is called moss! Do you know what this green plant is called?”) She will also sometimes forget words for things that are not new to her- for example, the name of a specific fruit or animal.
She is very social and has age appropriate social skills. Her language skills are age appropriate. She has age appropriate fine and gross motor skills and was not late on any baby milestones.
Is it possible she just falls on the “slower” end of the intellectual spectrum? Or does what I described seem normal to you?
It’s hard for me to be objective because my husband and I are naturally bright and our other child is exceptionally gifted. So I have no real “normal” to compare to.

Below is one of my very first attempts at reconciling with my past. Hope it inspires you all to challenge what happened in your lives.
I don't remember this period of time too well - our mind is an interesting construct making traumatic experiences seem like they did not happen to us. What I know for sure is that I felt uneasy around him. His empty jokes, blank eyes, depressing demeanor. I could not pinpoint what was going on but I was avoiding him whenever I could.
I was a 12 year old kid, involved in school athletics, son of a single mother. Everyone could tell she was struggling but no one could tell how much I was. Nonetheless, at some point she met someone and soon after made him pick me up from school or simply set up situations to "get to know him". Despite what they thought, I knew exactly what was going and played the game as well - I tried to get to know him. In terms of my feelings, I was indifferent leaning towards aversion. He did nothing wrong at that point, it was just not pleasant to be around him. In fact, I liked how my mother was leaving the house a lot. Why did I like to be alone? That's a good question and I simply don't remember - it's quite possible that my mother's struggles had an impact on me that I could not yet understand.
Now when I think about it, everything happened so quick. They got engaged and soon after the man got a job abroad. He was supposed to be a manual worker. Shortly after he left, my mother started telling me that it would be a good idea to move there as well. We even visited him and during that trip they told me all these beautiful stories about our future house, dogs, possibilities. Of course, all of these were lies which I later found out. I made one of my very first adult decisions at that point - I said no. Shortly after, she left and I lived with my grandmother for a year. While I am very grateful for what my grandmother did for me, she was quite "old school" and it was difficult for a teenager to be left by now both parents.
After a year I started failing school. I don’t remember it too well but they also got married in the meantime. It is funny how you always blame everything around you but not the real cause of the problem which is quite obvious. I remember calling my mother blaming my grandmother and everything around me at that point. I told her I wanted to move and soon after I actually did. As mentioned, everything they told me was a lie. We lived in one large bedroom for a month in the middle of nowhere. It is actually a miracle I was accepted to a public school without speaking the language too well. However, we did move out to a small apartment where I finally had my small bedroom.
I actually remember the school relatively well - it was probably too big of an event to forget. I also remember the loneliness, bullying because of poor language skills and struggle to keep up with school. I also remember that I could no longer be the athlete I wanted to be as the local club was simply too amateur for my dreams. Now when I think about it, I was so isolated I never met with anyone outside of school or sport activities.
My whole life revolved around video games, movies and sport - I trained as much as the circumstances allowed me. The everyday life was tense, my mother's husband was depressing and I subconsciously wanted to avoid him. I could feel that something wrong was going on. I know they were fighting a lot, the atmosphere was simply not right. Well, I had my video games and my own room - I was safe. At some point I made my second adult decision, I said I want to go back and we actually did.
My mother's husband did not move with us immediately, it was just me and her at the beginning. To be honest, I don't remember that period at all. What I know is that my mother was depressed - or maybe always have been. I don't remember when he moved in with us but I immediately felt it. I avoided him as much as I could, every time he spoke to me I felt uneasy. As a large man he liked to tell me that he knows self-defense and what he can do. I never knew and never will know why.
The everyday life was getting pretty tense. I felt like a lot of was happening around me, some things I knew, some I pretended to not see and some I simply did not know. I don't remember too much. I remember finding him passed out with vomit and blood mixed up in front of our house. I remember seeing him passed out after breaking living room doors. I also remember my mother crying out for help because he did not want to leave the house until she gave him alcohol which she hid. At the very same moment he was threating me that he would break me bones if I did not give me him alcohol. At one point I told my mother that I will never return home if I ever see him again. Many years later I'm still incredibly angry at her for her response "ok that's enough" like I was a stupid child that should shut up and not participate in any decision making (well I was a child). So you can use your child to protect you like a tool but you take away his right to decide for himself? Was I responsible for your life decisions?
At some point, she completely broke down and her child had to say that everything will be ok. Apparently he got into a lot of debt and it was just getting worse everyday. I had to tell her to get post-nup and divorce as quick as possible. An underage kid had to carry the mental load on his shoulders. What hurts the most is the fact that each time I've expressed my anger or sadness she said either "do you think I had it easy" or "that's enough". She had it tough but I think she also chose her very egoistic way of healing. To remember what she wants to remember, to discredit her son's trauma and to make it "our suffering". The problem is that child was not responsible for her relationships, financial problems and mental issues. It was just a child that wanted to live and grow in peace.
I've become incredibly angry at what happened, at my mother and dysfunctional childhood. My emotions today and healing - I believe it is all for the better. I also know that I will never be the same person after trying to reconcile with my past. If to heal means to avoid your mother and her egoistic denial and way of healing? I think I am okay with that, I am no longer going to pretend that I do not suffer because of my childhood. As you can probably infer from the text above, there were more traumatic events in my life that I need to reconcile with. It's time to finally mourn that childhood.

Changing My Attitude
My tendency is to try to impose order on things in my environment. If I’m no watching closely and paying attention, resentments can sneak up on me. At home in my bathroom closet I put the bath towels in one spot, the hand towels in another, and the washcloths where they belong. One day several washcloths were on top of the bath towels with a bath towel or two on top of the hand towels.
​I stood there for a moment and began to get angry. I said to myself, “Why can’t my husband put these things in the right places?” It’s just the two of us, so I had no one else to blame. Then I proceeded to rearrange the items.
A couple of slogans came to mind. “How Important Is It?” and, “First Things First.” I began to realize that it only took me a few seconds to rearrange the towels. Then I asked myself, “Where is your gratitude?” I should be glad that my husband washes, dries, folds, and puts these things away. So I began to lose my anger and counted this as a lesson about changing my attitude.
I shared the story with my Al-Anon group. Later, when all of my anger and frustration were gone, I was able to relate it to my husband. When he realized this concerned me, he made more of an effort to put the towels in their proper places. As things have evolved, he doesn’t always get them there, and you know what? I don’t really care anymore if the closet is a little disheveled.
Through Al-Anon I have learned if I hang onto resentments they will grow and develop into larger ones. If I work through my resentments, I can get on with life and be present in the moment. By Teresa L., Georgia September, 2003Reprinted with permission of The Forum, Al-Anon Family Group Headquarters, Inc., Virginia Beach, VA.

Have any of you ever moved to another state or had a similar big location change with a toddler? My husband and I are planning on moving from Texas to Colorado soon and I’m very concerned about how my almost 2 year old son will handle it. He is so familiar with this house, he knows the whole layout and has parts of it he prefers to others. When we go out for the day he recognizes it when we pull back into the driveway, and he says “we’re home”. He knows his own room and where in the house he can go to find mama or dada. I’m worried he will be very upset and confused being in a new house where nothing is familiar to him. Routine is so important at this age and whenever there is change he gets very overwhelmed. He’s big enough to be very aware of his routine and surroundings, but still too little to understand things. I’d love to hear success stories or tips on how to make a transition like this as comfortable as possible for him.

Tagged spoiler just to be sure.
We know that the chapter of Natlan is known as "Rite of resurrection". Personally I believe the most likely course the story will take is an attempt to resurrect the 3rd descender seeing how they will have collected all of the gnosis in Natlan.
However I see some speculation about La Signora being able to be revived at one point of the story.
Now, I think this theory is quite unlikely seeing as even Arle has a voiceline where she hopes La Signora will be reunited after death with her husband.
Realistically, what are the chances that La Signora will get a return? Either with the next chapter or in a more distant part of the story?

TLDR; My husband (27M) and I’s (23F) ideals for the future are misaligned now and I’m becoming unhappy, I don’t know what to do.
My husband and I met when I was still in college, a little over 4 years ago and have been together ever since. The first two years were fantastic, and we got engaged on our 2 year anniversary. At the time, we really thought we had talked over every “big conversation” you’re supposed to talk about (kids, where do you want to live, values, etc.)… Well we eloped a few weeks later (he’s in the military so that in itself speeds things up a bit), and then like 8 months later we were to have our actual wedding with family and friends, the whole 9 yards. During this time period, i don’t know what changed, but I guess I started to learn more about myself and my desires for life— I want an adventurous life before I settle down and have kids, and am more on the fence about having kids in some ways (mind you, I used to be all for it, but now I’m like 50% want 50% don’t want)? I also feel in a lot of ways as if he stopped “dating” me. I tried to bring this up and made it clear that I need to feel DATED, and set a kind of system up for us to have “date night” once every week. This went on for 2 weeks before it fell off and he got busy with school (which I was understanding of, as I also was in uni for the first 2 years of our relationship). Well, long story short, ever since then, we’ve gone on maybe 2/3 actual “dates”. I’ve tried bringing it up again but nothing came of it so I just dropped it and didn’t feel heard. That mixed with the bigger issues - how our values don’t line up as much anymore in where we see ourselves 2 or 5 years down the line, has made it so hard for me to be fully confident in us. We’ve had tough conversations a lot recently (within just this year maybe 3-4 times) about us and our future & the things we like to do (I also feel like we barely have any shared interests/hobbies besides playing video games, and it’s almost summer now so I am always wanting to be outside while he stays in and plays), but after we have the conversation it always ends with “but we love each other, and that’s just the way it is” and things go back to normal for some time — we’re very physically affectionate and goofy with each other, it’s so natural to be good. And then I get plagued with these thoughts of doubt again. I don’t know how to replace them or push them away, I went to therapy for a little bit and then helped but I wasn’t able to keep on it financially. We had another conversation last night about how I felt unhappy and he got frustrated and told me he didn’t want to talk about this again and I need to just make a decision because I’m stringing him along. I have no idea what to do or say, and part of me feels like it shouldn’t be this hard— we are so young. I’m just lost.

I’m aware that this is unconventional. Believe me, I’ve tried conventional – it didn’t end well for anyone. I require a certain open mindedness that I’m hoping I might find here, but more importantly, I need my future husband to know the rules. Meet-cutes are well and good on the screen, but they don’t guarantee a partner’s ability to follow basic instructions. That was my mistake the first time.
So, begging your pardon for my bluntness, I’m going to be clear about my requirements. Please read carefully – if you can’t meet them, there’s no point in going any further.

• Must want children. At least one child, anyway. I’m open to the idea of more, but one is an absolute must.
• Must be in it for the long haul. Until our child turns eighteen, to be precise. I understand that level of commitment is a daunting prospect, particularly when we have not yet met. After our child is born, you are welcome to ignore me, if you please, or take your pleasure elsewhere – though I will warn you that it might be difficult to come by. But you will live under my roof until our child is an adult.
• Homebody preferred. It will make the next two decades easier on you.
• Must have impeccable manners. I will provide a manual outlining the required etiquette, but you must at least have a grasp of basic courtesy to begin with. If you let your tongue run away with you, or don’t bother to wish your neighbours a good morning when you pass them in the street, stop reading – this is not the opportunity for you. Seriously.

This is the part where I should talk about myself, but let’s face it, this is hardly a romantic proposal. I require commitment up-front and there’s no guarantee that, once we do meet, we’ll really even like each other. If we do? Fantastic! It’ll help the years fly by. If we don’t, you’ll still have the main prize – years of rent-free, expenses-free living at The Old Oak Hotel.
A sanctuary has stood in this spot in one form or another since before the ley lines. During its tenure, it has been flooded, put to the flame, and pounded into dust. Time and again, it has been reimagined and rebuilt. Most of the current building dates back to Victoria’s reign, though the oldest parts were constructed in the 13^th century. At the very bottom of the garden, cut into the surrounding hills, there is a cave bearing handprints of red ochre.
There has always been an Edwards at the hotel, though of course we haven’t always gone by that name. You would think a family so tied to one place would do a better job of keeping records, but no one is certain of our origins. Perhaps it was a cosmic bargain, or perhaps mere luck – whether good or bad, I have never been able to decide. Either way, our presence is required. Throughout our spotty past, there’s a story here and there of an Edwards deserting their post, and it always coincides with a particularly brutal period of history.
I inherited the position five years ago. At midnight on my eighteenth birthday, my parents took their already-packed suitcases and left. I don’t blame them for their abandonment; I intend to one day do the same thing to my – or, hopefully, our – child.
They send me postcards and photos from time-to-time, always smiling on sunny beaches. Money isn’t a concern for them. That’s part of whatever mysterious deal our ancestors made – when a caretaker leaves in good-standing, they will never want for anything again. They could travel the world for the rest of their lives, always sleeping in the softest sheets and dining in the finest restaurants, and never find their pockets empty.
Keep this point in mind, for if you can meet my requirements, you will share my good fortune.
And what must we do in return? I can all but hear you scream the question. Why, very little. The presence of an Edwards ensures that the guests can’t stray from the hotel grounds. Most of our guests are live-in residents, though we do get the occasional walk-in. Where they come from, I don’t know, for we are not visible to most people who stumble upon our lonely corner of the world. I’ve come to believe the hotel chooses to reveal itself when its lacking entertainment, or to fill a need.
Jimmy, my first husband, was one such guest.
For the most part, the guests are harmless. They’ll give you a little fright from time-to-time, popping out from a wall or turning your bathwater into blood, but I find it hard to hold it against them. I’ve found twenty-three years here dreary; I can’t imagine how bored I would be after five hundred.
There are a few exceptions you should be aware of:

• Eric. Our resident serial murderer. He claims to have been Jack the Ripper while he still drew breath, but I think he’s just a blowhard. He knows better than to harm an Edwards, but I’m afraid spouses are fair game. Years ago, my grandmother managed to confine him to the fourth floor, so you will be perfectly safe from him as long as you never set foot there. Occasionally, the lift will stop on that floor even though you haven’t pressed the button for it. Do not get out. Even if the lift appears to be on fire or starts filling with murky water. Wait for the doors to close again, then go to another floor. It should only take a few hours.
• The Thing in the Cellar. I don’t know what It is; no one ever has. We only know It eats rats and must be fed once a day. If I’m ever ill or incapacitated, this task will fall to you. Harvest the rats from the traps in the garden, then stand at the cellar door and throw them down the stairs. Do not walk down the stairs and do not forget to feed It. You don’t want to be the first person to see Its’ face.
• Mrs Jones. Old fashioned and a stickler for manners, she’s the reason I’m advertising for a husband rather than a boyfriend. She won’t abide a couple living in sin under the same roof as her. Really, though, she’s a sweet old thing. Full of stories about the war and always ready to help if I get stuck on a recipe. I don’t blame her for what happened with Jimmy at all. I’d warned him enough times.

Guests aside, there are other rules you will need to follow to ensure a safe, satisfactory stay at The Old Oak Hotel. They are listed in a book that has been re-penned many times over the centuries. If you choose to accept this opportunity, I will insist that you read it until you can recite the pages word-for-word.
However, there are some rules so critical for your survival that I feel compelled to list them here:

• With the exception of the fourth floor, you are welcome to roam the hotel and its grounds as you please. But you must never set foot outside of our land – not until our child is old enough to fulfil their duties. If I were to do so, it would unleash pandemonium – plague, peril, perhaps another world war. I’m afraid you would be less crucial to the fate of the world, but it would certainly be a personal disaster.
• Never look in the mirrors in room 33.
• I’ve touched this point already, but it bears repeating: never be rude to Mrs Jones.

Failure to observe that last rule is what got Jimmy.
She doted on him. I think he reminded her of her long-dead son, for she pampered him as if he were one of her own. Each morning, she had breakfast ready for him before I had so much as opened my eyes, and she developed a habit of trailing along after him, complimenting his skill as he oiled rusted hinges or set a crooked picture straight.
At first, Jimmy basked in the attention. But by the end of his second month, he was growing bored of Mrs Jones, me, and the hotel itself. We pride ourselves on our facilities. If you need more activity than a turn around the garden, we have a lovely indoor pool – it freezes over every now and then, but most of the time it’s perfectly usable. Our library is unmatched. Although the room is cramped, it has every book imaginable; you only need to think of a particular title, and it will appear on one of the shelves. And now that I’ve dragged us kicking and screaming into the 21^st century, we have a wide array of streaming services.
It wasn’t enough for Jimmy. He wanted to go out – eat in a restaurant, watch a film in the cinema, see any faces other than the ones he was surrounded by every day. He began having a drink each evening. One drink turned into several, and after a few weeks, the bar became his permanent residence between dusk and midnight.
He wasn’t the only one getting bored. I had been thrilled when he first arrived; ecstatic when he agreed to stay. How marvellous to feel real flesh beneath my fingers after five years of only the dead for company. What a relief to have some assistance in the many tasks required to keep the hotel running as it should.
The more he drank, the less inclined he was to help – or even spend time in my company. He no longer visited my bed, choosing a room for himself on the opposite end of the floor. When our paths did cross, at best he would ignore me. At worst, he would nitpick or outright rail against me, blaming me for his captivity.
Still, I made an effort to be present whenever he frequented the bar. As lovely as Mrs Jones can be, she does have a tendency to nag. Before and after her death, she was close to teetotal, only consenting to take a single sherry at Christmas, and drinking outside of special occasions is something of a bugbear of hers.
“Think of your health, dear,” she would tell Jimmy brusquely. “You’ll miss it when it’s gone.”
Or, “How about we switch to a nice apple juice now? You’ve had quite enough to drink for one night.”
Most of the time, Jimmy managed to pull himself together enough to flash a charming smile and distract her with a compliment about her latest meal. But after one drink too many, I’d noticed him gritting his teeth and just barely managing to hold his tongue.
It was better if I was present. Playing the doting wife, I insisted on pouring his drinks, watering them down out of his sight. When Mrs Jones’s nagging bordered on relentless, I could always distract her with a game of gin rummy.
On his final day, I was running behind. The ghoul on the second floor – usually the least demanding of our guests – had come down with some dreadful illness, or else decided he wanted to inconvenience me. Either way, I had woken that morning to the foulest stench I had ever experienced. I followed it to his room and found every surface covered in putrid green-blank gunge, its consistency somewhere between mucus and vomit.
All day I scrubbed, taking only brief breaks to step outside before I fainted. By the time the room was restored to a passable state, and I had filled several bin bags to bursting with filthy rags, it was already deep into the night. Mindful of the time, I paused only long enough to wash the streaks of muck from my arms and face before racing to the bar.
I arrived just in time to hear Jimmy’s last words. After he spat them at Mrs Jones, she only stared for a small eternity, her mouth frozen in the motherly smile she wore whenever she scolded him.
Then, like melted wax, her face began to shift.
I shouted at Jimmy to run, but he didn’t need to be told. Before the words left my mouth, he leapt from his barstool and streaked through the door. Mrs Jones followed him seconds later. Her lips were already peeling back to reveal rows upon rows of long, wickedly sharp fangs, while claws sprouted from beneath her lace-edged cuffs.
I sprinted after them, but Jimmy was fuelled by fear and Mrs Jones by whatever force propels the Mrs Joneses of the world. I followed the screeching to the lobby. Breathless, I arrived to see he had arrived within mere feet of the entrance before Mrs Jones grabbed him.
Claws wrapped around his throat, she lifted him into the air. As I watched, her jaw unhinged, the lower part dropping so that it was nearly level with her chest.
That sight drove all the sense out of my head. Forgetting every rule my parents had ever drilled into me, I lunged at her.
She batted me away as though I weighed no more than a fly.
I crashed into the reception desk, the breath bursting from my lungs in a great woosh. I was certain that I would die, for no amount of effort seemed to force air back into my aching chest. At last, as my vision began to dim, I managed to take a small gulp – then another, and another, until I was able to draw myself together enough to regain my feet.
By that time, Mrs Jones had nearly finished her dinner. Jimmy’s chest was splayed open, muscle and shattered ribs protruding every which way from his flesh, and she was devouring the last few bites of his heart.
His head was angled towards me. The light had winked out from his eyes, but they still held his final terror – and an accusation which, I was quite certain, was directed at me. I would like to say I felt only horror, but I couldn’t help my sudden jolt of irritation. How may times had I told him to mind his manners?
Mrs Jones gulped, the sound thick and wet in her gullet, and dropped what remained of Jimmy to the floor.
Then she turned to me.
Here’s another rule for you, one which I hope you never have cause to use: never interfere with a kill.
The Mrs Jones who used to kiss my grazed knees, who argued with my mother for the right to read me bedtime stories, was no longer at the wheel. No amount of pleading or reasoning would move her.
I could only run.
Spinning around, I vaulted over the reception desk and raced for the office behind it. If Jimmy had not been out of his mind with fear and booze, he might have remembered the rules and survived; it was one of several staff-only rooms throughout the hotel warded to keep out unwanted guests.
Just ten steps from desk to door, yet it was the longest journey of my life. My hard-won breath burned my throat; my heart pounded in my ears, deafening me to all other sounds than Mrs Jones’s heavy, pounding footsteps.
Grasping the handle, her hot, copper-tanged breath was on my neck. Fire exploded in my flesh as she raked her claws down my back. A step further away, and I wouldn’t have made it; the pain would have been too great. But I managed to throw myself into the office and slam the door before crumpling to the ground.
Before I passed out, I heard her grunting and shrieking outside, furious that she couldn’t get in.
Three days I spent in the office, emerging only to feed The Thing in the Cellar before scurrying back to my hiding place. Whenever I left, I tried not to look at the mangled heap that used to be Jimmy. There was no avoiding the smell, though.
With no small difficulty, and the help of a first aid kit, I managed to treat and bandage the wounds on my back. They bled sluggishly all throughout the first day, but thankfully didn’t fester.
On the morning of the fourth day, there was a tentative knock on the door followed by the sound of rapidly retreating footsteps. I waited until they had disappeared down the corridor before cracking the door open. On the floor was a freshly baked Victoria sponge and a beautifully written note of apology.
It took every ounce of courage I possessed, but that evening I forced myself to go to the dining room. Mrs Jones was waiting for me, her eyes red-rimmed, a steaming cottage pie on the table. I tried not to flinch as she took my hand, re-iterating the apology she had already delivered in writing.
The next morning, she helped me clean Jimmy up.
We treated each other cautiously for a while, but eventually we got back to playing gin rummy again. When the scars on my back twinge, as they sometimes do, she helps me rub a soothing ointment into them. Even though I’ve told her it’s not necessary, she apologises every time.
So, you’ve heard my story and you have my proposal. If you think you could be the man for me, I invite you to visit. You will need to drink a cup of ram’s blood (a pinch of nutmeg makes it a little more tolerable) and light a black candle before bedtime. When you next wake, you will find yourself at our gates. As travel arrangements go, it’s hardly the Orient Express, but it beats the airfare.
If you have read this without flinching, if you can stomach the journey to get here, if you walk up to our door and find the nerve to open it, I have one more instruction for you.
Just as you enter, look to your right. You will see a deep brown stain on the lobby carpet. I’ve scrubbed and scrubbed but it just won’t come out. Perhaps that’s for the best. It’s a good reminder of what will happen to you should you call Mrs Jones a “nosy old bat”.
And when you run into Jimmy – as you will, for he still likes hanging around the bar in the evening, his silvery wounds glistening as though they had just been inflicted – don’t let him convince you he was some sort of victim.
He knew the rules.

For starters, everybody in this story is an adult, and nobody lives in the same house.
I’m a man, and I have two older sisters, and one is a monster. Growing up she chased mom with an butcher knife, beat my mom, and me and my younger sister, tried to kill me with an axe (yes, I posted about this before), and many other violent things.
Years ago, just before he died, my father told me my oldest sister (the monster) had confessed in an email to beating my mother recently. (Mom and dad had been divorced for decades, and dad hated mom for cheating on him for years. So yeah, it’s not a great family.)
Anyway, my dad warned my sister that what she was doing was called “granny bashing,” and could land her in prison.
Soon after that conversation Dad died, and the whole conversation sort of faded from my mind.
A few years later, my mother‘s current husband, who is now an 85-year-old man, pulls me aside and pleads with me, “please don’t let your older sister move in with your mother when I die. She’ll kill your mother. He’s repeated this conversation to me at least two other times, and says during a vacation together my sister had beat my mother. Of course I’m concerned, but mom always protects my oldest sister, because she feels guilty for how she turned out. So I told my father-in-law, “There’s no way mom would listen to me. I don’t have any persuasion in the circumstance.”
When I asked Mom about this, she firmly denied that my sister had ever beat her. I brought this up, concerned, repeatedly, but mom always denied it.
Until yesterday.
OK, so it’s been a couple years since those conversations with my stepfather have occurred, but a few days ago, I learned my mother has named my eldest sister to be the executor of her will. (Bare in mind this is a pretty significant will, with 7 kids who stand to inherit around $300,000 each.)
This leads to a long conversation with me and my mom about how terrible of an idea I think it is a terrible idea to make my sister executor of the will, as she’s very volatile, quick to throw tantrums, and had been violent in the past. My mom is the only person who’s forgiven her, so when my mom dies, she will be absolutely alone, and devastated. This will trigger The Monster.
Anyway, during that conversation, I bring up the fact that my stepdad has told me that my sister beats her (my mom). And that my natural father told me that my sister confessed to beating my mother.
At first, Mom denied it, but then she eventually admitted it, but it was a very subtle admission. She simply said, “yeah, well, your father beat me, too.”
That clearly states both my sister the monster, and my father, had beat my mother. And my sister had done so within the last few years.
So what do I do?
I’m absolutely not looking for more family drama, and I don’t know that this has happened recently, but I definitely don’t want it to happen again. Do I tell the police? Do I tell my other sister? (I mentioned it to my younger sister a couple of days ago, and she denied it, saying my mother‘s husband probably exaggerated. But now that mom has admitted it, my younger sister can’t deny any longer.)
Or do ignore it, and hope the next time it happens, mom doesn’t get killed? Again, my mom is 82, and it’s been in and out of the hospital recently a bunch. So she’s very frail.
I’m at a complete loss.
EDIT: for those of you saying “call adult protective services”, remember my mom denies the violence to protect my sister, and will just deny it to APS.
Also, for those saying I’m the Asshole for not doing something sooner, remember, my mom has denied it every day up until yesterday. And even if she had admitted to me, I would still be in the same position I’m in now: what do I do if I know my mom is going to deny it to adult protective services?

Feeling horrible for snapping on my son. We’ve been sick for months with just a week or two break in between illness from school and today is day four of five staying inside with each other for 24 hours non stop and I feel horrible.
Tried to put his shoes on with him he kicks off, pulls his clothes off after I just put them on and being super defiant / normal 5 year old BS but it feels unbearable.
I’m not sure if it’s because of how tired I am physically and mentally but I just feel like giving up.
Yes I appologized to him and explained mommy had big feelings and was angry and got sad and shouldn’t have yelled but mommy’s get sick and sleepy too. He came and hugged and kissed me and I still feel so horrible.
I have husband that takes him to the park or plays after dinner where I get an hour break and I shouldn’t complain some moms get none and other kids have way more severe and complex needs than my son but I just think m about how difficult everything feels right now.
Part of me wants to home school bc I can’t stand the sickness, the other part cannot mentally handle anymore responsibilities added on to my plate as I feel like all the appointments and meetings are for nothing and that we are in this on our own.
Looking for happy stories, tips, encouragement or anything really, feeling so alone and isolated. My husband doesn’t want to hear me complain anymore but I’m a robot that doesn’t turn off unless I’m cleaning or doing laundry (as my break) and I really hope life feels easier and better.
Also tips on strengthening immunity would be great! We are on elderberry, zinc, vitamins c&d so always looking for any sort of help there because I feel like I’m drowning.

For reference, I'm 32F, married with kids. I have struggled with disordered eating and weight fluctuations since I was a teenager, but my AN gets especially bad in the spring and summer, and I feel it creeping back in with a vengeance. I'm back to under eating, over exercising, and weighing myself obsessively.
I have always been on the "thicker" side, but my weight got out of control when I was pregnant with my 4th child. When I left the hospital after having him, I was a whopping 241lbs at 5'6". I am now 204, and still shedding weight at a rapid rate. Everyone is beginning to notice and congratulate me. "You're look so good!" "You're glowing!" "Wow, have you lost weight!? You look fantastic!"
This is what happens every time.
I gain weight from binge eating (mostly while pregnant and breastfeeding my babies), and then I lose a shit ton of weight very quickly by starving myself, and everyone laudes me as a success story.
I'm not sure why I am writing this. I guess I just need a safe space to get this off my chest. I am terrified my husband will find out I am sick and start monitoring my eating. I intentionally eat my one small meal a day (dinner) in front of him so he doesn't get suspicious. I can't really tell my therapist, because then it will become yet another awful, complicated, weird "thing" I need to unpack and answer for in therapy, and I honestly have too much on my plate emotionally as it is. I'm not ready to move towards recovery because nobody suspects a thing, and there's no genuine health concerns that are preventing me from doing what I'm doing. My doctor is happy because my numbers are better than they've ever been, friends and family are happy for me because I look and feel so good, I'm far more in shape and capable of keeping up with my kids... why stop?
God, that feels shitty to type out. I hope it doesn't get too bad this time.