Hi,
Looking for outside perspective to gain either validation or an opportunity for my own accountability.
Situations:
He met with female coworker after working event to go eat McDonald’s. He hid that from me for some weird reason because she’s married and loyal and I like her. I just knew something was off because he was at McDonald’s for a long time and made it seem like he was alone. I confront him about hiding something from me and he tells me “You just don’t like me having female friends.” No…I don’t like you being dishonest.
Ex would get flirty with stranger at party while ignoring me sitting next to him. They would elbow each other and started creating inside jokes. I told him this bothered me and he told me he was just trying to make himself and me a friend. This was bs because he never introduced/encouraged interaction between the two of us. He asked what he could’ve done better. I took this as a good sign that he wanted to learn what went wrong. I told him that if he could just signal to other people that he was in a relationship some way, like touching my leg. He was like okay I’ll do that. Great.
Fast forward to going to a sporting event with him and his friends. He hadn’t seen his friends in like a year so I expected them to catch up. But as soon as his female friend started talking to me, he put his hand on my leg. Completely ignored me and started whispering with her and touching each other a lot (not inappropriately.. just so many friendly touches during convo). I subtly shoo his hand off my leg and calmly walk away. He doesn’t notice at first, but follows me when his female friend points it out that I got up. When he catches up to me, I unleash fury upon him… Not proud of that. I tell him what I don’t like and ask to be left alone. He goes back to sit with his friends and I later come back. Apparently his female friend mouthed to him “What’s wrong?” and he brushed it off. We had a nice rest of the game. At the end of it, she lovingly looks at him and then she smirks at me. Ugh.
After that, I looked at his phone…wanted to see if she said anything. And she did. She said “Hey I don’t know Feeling_Upstairs that well, but she didn’t seem like herself. Is everything okay?”. He texted her back “Yeah she just feels left out and anxious in a big group sometimes.” That made me feel so betrayed. Felt like they were both blaming me for reacting to it. I confront him about it and admit to looking at his phone. He’s upset of course that I looked at his phone, I get it. He’s looked at mine too, so it felt like a double standard that he would have so much ire over it. Either way, it’s wrong for me to do that. I ask him to have boundaries on his female friend (not being so touchy) and I get “We’ve been friends for so long though”, “You just don’t like me having female friends” (Not true, he has many that I was fine with), “We only talked for 5 minutes at the game”. (I don’t know how long they talked at the game..but it was long enough for his other friend to notice and make a comment to me about it). Hearing those statements from him made me really sad. Seemed like he wanted to put this one female friend above me. We talked about what happened at the game extensively and he reenacted how I shooed off his hand but made it seem like I did so violently and aggressively. He then told me that he had to baby me for the rest of the game. That deeply hurt because I thought we had a good time for the last part of the game and I never asked for or got reassurance so I didn’t feel like I was being “babied”.
Let me know your take on all of this. I feel really confused months later after breaking up.

Hey girlies,
Why does period blood appear both on the inside and under the disc upon EVERY removal. There is a significant amount of blood that appears under the disc (perhaps the same volume of blood collected within the disc). There is absolutely no leakage at all so I’m confused as to whether I’m doing it right.
For context, I stopped using Blood cup (due to my high cervix) and Lily cup (due to my narrow cervix). I’m currently Hello disc and it has been awesome thus far.
I’d really appreciate any form of advice. Bless x

I have a pretty mellow 10.5 week old baby. I am currently EBF him. He started having watery, brown stools, mucus stools and bloody stools around 4/30 at 4 weeks old. He is gaining tons of weight, does not complain, and sleeps decently.
Backstory to add context: My older child, now 3, was miserable as a newborn. She scream cried for hours and would never sleep in her bassinet/crib. We basically held her around the clock for 16 weeks. The pediatrician said it just sounded like a bit of colic. We noticed blood in her diaper at 4 months and the pediatrician confirmed with testing. I was EBF, so they recommended I stop eating dairy. I went off dairy, soy, and beef. She started solids soon after and we didn’t notice blood anymore.
At 1 our pediatrician said she’d probably outgrown CMPA so we could test out giving her an ounce of cow’s milk. She had an anaphylactic reaction and had to be brought to the ER in an ambulance.
Blood and skin testing confirmed her allergy to cow’s milk at 16 months and 2.5 years old. She now can tolerate small amounts of baked milk, but will still have some hives around her mouth from time to time. I stayed dairy free until I stopped BFing her at 20 months. I reintroduced soy and beef after she passed the allergy testing at 16 months.
Thinking back to that experience, I was terrified my second child would have the same reaction. He has been such a calm baby in comparison. I still watched his poops semi-obsessively and brought him in to the pediatrician on 5/1 as soon as I noticed a change. They tested for blood and it came back positive. They recommended I stop dairy. I’ve been dairy-free since.
When we went back for a follow-up on 5/13 and he still was having bloody diapers, they said cutting soy would be the next step. I’ve been soy free since (including soybean oil and soy lecithin).
I brought him in on 5/30 for his 2 month appointment and showed them pictures of the bloody diapers he still was having. They said that if he was still bleeding then it must be something in my diet that he was still reacting to. She said to cut dairy, soy, peanuts, tree nuts, wheat, strawberries, citrus fruits, egg, and corn. She also recommended that I pump for two weeks and give him Elecare to allow his gut to heal.
Stopping breastfeeding cold turkey didn’t feel right to me, so I just changed my diet and continued to BF him. I noticed just a few specks of blood in his diaper for the first few days, but then he had a pretty bloody diaper again after I had eaten black beans two days in a row.
Feeling defeated, we decided to try pumping, storing the milk, and giving him Elecare. He took the first 2 ounce bottle ok, drank 2 out of 4 ounces of the next bottle, and then spent 2 hours screaming. We tried to give him another 2 ounce bottle, but he only drank 1 ounce and scream cried even harder. After almost 8 hours of him being completely miserable, I BF him. I decided I’d rather eat an elimination diet forever than him scream like my daughter did.
I’ve stuck with the elimination diet (while also cutting black beans) since. I’m now on day 11. He still has mucusy stools most of the time and small flecks of blood in 1-3 diapers a day. I figured it might just be that he needs longer to heal.
But this morning he had another diaper with a greater amount of blood. Not as much as with the beans, but enough that I questioned if I’m doing the right thing. The only new thing I ate was cantaloupe yesterday.
I’m wondering if I should just try to give him the Elecare again. Should we stick it out longer than 8 hours? I just don’t know what is worse - blood in his diaper after BFing (with the happiest demeanor) or screaming in pain after the Elecare.
Has anyone else had a similar experience?

I'm currently in hospital feeling very unwell and bleeding heavy. I've just started my first dose of tranexamic to stop the heavy blood loss and clotting. Has anyone tried it? I will be using it every month for a few days on my period now until my hysterectomy appointment comes through.

Article Text:
If there is one man in Britain who embodies the way our politics have changed, and continue to change after October 7, it is Akhmed Yakoob, the independent candidate for Birmingham Ladywood.
Yakoob is a 36-year-old defence solicitor who wears black Prada trainers, a glittering diamond watch, tinted gold-framed sunglasses and Gareth Southgate-like waistcoats. He has 195,000 followers on TikTok, a platform he understands more intuitively than 99 per cent of the politicians in this country. He speaks in clipped, brutal epigrams that sound like they are only ever a few seconds away from going viral on social media. He calls the Prophet Muhammad his biggest political influence. Offline he campaigns on the street, inside takeaways and from the cream leather seat of a shining black Mercedes S-Class Saloon. The word “genocide” is never far from Yakoob’s mouth.
This year, standing on a pro-Gaza, anti-Labour platform, he racked up almost 70,000 votes in the West Midlands mayoral election, mainly from deprived inner city wards in the Birmingham Ladywood constituency he is now trying to wrest from Shabana Mahmood, the shadow justice secretary. Labour’s Richard Parker narrowly won the mayoral election, taking 225,590 votes, 1,508 more than the Conservatives’ Andy Street. Yakoob’s presence in the race made it much closer. Though he came third, securing 20 per cent of the vote gave him substance and a political base. Yakoob is furious about the war in Gaza.
He prints “For Gaza” on all his leaflets. He says the war is why he entered politics. He knows it represents a key dividing line with Labour, even as the party prepares to make new commitments to a peace process, if not unilateral support for a Palestinian state, in its manifesto next week. But there is nothing Labour can say or promise to bring back some Muslim voters now.
The same fury Yakoob feels is the basis for other independent challenges to Labour across Birmingham. In Edgbaston, Dr Ammar Waraich, a neurologist and former Harvard Fulbright scholar, is trying to topple Preet Kaur Gill, the Labour candidate. Waraich says he quit the party, as many other Muslims did, when Sir Keir Starmer told LBC on October 11 that Israel “had the right” to withhold water and power from Gaza. In Selly Oak, Kamel Hawwash, a civil engineering professor at the University of Birmingham and a former head of the Palestinian Solidarity Campaign, is running against the shadow veterans minister Steve McCabe.
Both seats, like those in former mill towns (Rochdale, Blackburn) and inner city areas (Ilford North, Leicester East) across the country where independents believe they have a chance of embarrassing the Labour Party, have significant Muslim populations. At May’s local elections, an analysis by Sky News found that in areas with a Muslim population above 20 per cent Starmer’s party lost 17.9 points from their vote share.
A targeted Labour fightback in Muslim areas, including focus groups and internal polling, began in January. This week the LabourList site published a list of the party’s “battleground areas”: 250 constituencies into which the party is funnelling significant resources, part of a campaign to win a healthy parliamentary majority. But the party is also directing activists to 22 seats where the party already has a large majority. It looks like a rearguard action. Several of these areas have a higher-than-average Muslim population.
Muslims make up 43 per cent of the electorate in Birmingham Ladywood, according to the Muslim Vote, a group that is trying to cohere Muslim voters behind pro-Gaza candidates. Mahmood has been the MP here since 2010, taking the seat from Clare Short, the former New Labour minister who resigned two months after the Iraq war began in March 2003. Short, as Yakoob is today, was a persistent critic of Labour’s foreign policy in the Middle East.
After refusing to serve in the shadow cabinet under Jeremy Corbyn, Mahmood became an early backer of the influential Starmerite think tank Labour Together and a key figure in Starmer’s plans for government. Based on the results of the 2019 general election, when Mahmood won 79 per cent of the vote, Ladywood should be one of the safest Labour seats in the country.
Boundary changes introduced this year complicate that picture. Alum Rock, an inner-city area that has a 93.6 per cent ethnic minority population, will become part of Ladywood. When you spend a day canvassing with Yakoob you begin to see why this might be a much trickier contest for Labour than anyone would have predicted a year ago. Ladywood is now one of the party’s “battleground areas”. Yakoob’s team believes that activists are being brought into the constituency because locals are refusing to campaign for Mahmood because of her abstention on a motion calling for a ceasefire in the Israel-Gaza war last November. Labour call this claim “absolute nonsense”. The independent candidates share ideas and strategies. They often campaign together.
“Everybody was saying to me ‘Labour machinery this, Labour machinery that,’” Yakoob says from the front seat of the Mercedes, which is being tailed by a pair of black German sedans filled with his volunteers, mostly young men wearing Asos suits.
“So what? I don’t really care about the machinery. Can they buy the love of people? No.” Yakoob smiles broadly. He jabs a hand out, as if he were standing at a podium addressing the entire city.
“They can spend millions but they can’t take the love of the people for me out of their hearts. That’s what they can’t take.”
His family are from Azad Kashmir, a region in the disputed territory controlled by Pakistan. His father came to Britain in the 1970s, worked as a milk salesman, then retired to Pakistan. Yakoob was born in the City Hospital on Dudley Road in 1988. He has four brothers, four sisters and four children. He tells his life story and gritty legal anecdotes on podcasts and through his 30-second, self-consciously aspirational social media videos.
Rags to riches is the vibe. He used to own a fleet of supercars, including a Rolls-Royce and a Lamborghini. The cars have since been jettisoned; Yakoob says he has “grown out of them”. Politics is taking over his life. His flashy, brash populist style makes Yakoob the closest thing politically adrift British Muslims have to Nigel Farage. He has been endorsed by George Galloway.
Yakoob is under investigation from the Solicitors Regulation Authority after he used social media to promote a false claim of racism against a teacher last month. Yakoob later deleted the posts and issued a statement saying that he would not make any comment until the outcome of the investigation.
Yakoob disrupts things wherever he goes. Handing out leaflets near a primary school on Wednesday afternoon, crowds swirl around him. Women in hijabs tell him they love him. Countless pictures are taken. People practically throw their children at him. Yakoob switches between Urdu patter and his drawling, lispy Brummie English. “Inshallah,” he says whenever these parents tell him “next time you will win”.
The afternoon before, Yakoob was campaigning at the gates of the nearby Rockwood Academy. It used to be known as Park View School. In 2014, Park View was at the heart of an inquiry into discredited allegations of a plot to oust some Birmingham head teachers and make their schools adhere to more conservative Islamic principles. The so-called Trojan Horse scandal remains a sore issue locally. By campaigning outside the school, Yakoob is picking at a scab.
“I don’t know why he does it,” said one teacher who didn’t want to be named. “Why kids?” When Yakoob appeared outside the school, hundreds of children tried to take selfies with him. That evening at a packed meeting at a Bangladeshi restaurant, Yakoob calls for a public inquiry into the Trojan Horse affair. The room shakes with applause.
Along Green Lane, a squeezed road on a dumpy street where cars are parked at every angle and Palestinian flags are tied to the lamp posts, Yakoob literally stops traffic. Drivers slow down to yell and shout their support at him. He runs haphazardly towards them brandishing leaflets coloured with the black, green and red of the Palestinian flag. It’s a total macho circus act, pure street politics. “Everyone knows me,” he says.
A little girl walks up to Yakoob with her mother, who does not speak English very well. “Give us a good reason to vote for you.” Yakoob gets down on his haunches. He is face to face with the girl. He calls her “little sister”.
“None of our MPs spoke about Gaza.” He says this very slowly and patiently, so she can understand him. “There was a vote in the House of Commons and our MP for Ladywood … she actually abstained from voting.” The girl is satisfied with this. She leads her mother away, taking a leaflet to go.
There are local issues here. The roads sweat with traffic and pollution. Uncollected rubbish, stinking in the mild June weather, is piled up near abandoned, shattered pubs. People complain about potholes and rat infestations. More than half the children in the constituency, 54.6 per cent, are living in poverty, according to End Child Poverty — the highest rate of any constituency in the country.
Later one man, an elderly solicitor, tells me Alum Rock is a ghetto, and Mahmood should be ashamed of it. Yakoob’s team claims Mahmood cannot campaign there, such is the anger towards her. They also say a senior figure from one of Mahmood’s previous campaigns has defected to Yakoob. Both claims are, again, “absolute nonsense”, a Labour spokesperson says.
Mahmood says she is “delighted” to be Labour’s candidate in Birmingham Ladywood, “the city my family has called home since my parents first arrived from rural Kashmir”.
When we visit the 20-tent pro-Gaza encampment that sprouts from the ground in the middle of Aston University with Yakoob, one student, a bearded 20-year-old who did not wish to be named, was unequivocal: “Power must be taken away from the Labour Party.”
That evening, senior figures from the Bengali community gather to address Yakoob in the upstairs room of a Bangladeshi restaurant on Coventry Road. The room looks like it has been decorated for a wedding reception — which is somewhat eerie, because no women are present.
A succession of bigwigs are introduced. This brother runs a printing business. That brother is a mufti, an Islamic jurist. They are serious men, and they feel deeply betrayed by the Labour Party that their families have voted for since they came to Britain.
One man recalls his father’s friendship with Lord Hattersley, who was MP for Birmingham Sparkbrook from 1964 to 1997. He says he will never vote for Labour again after Gaza. “They have hurt us so much.” His voice is grave. I watch as speaker after speaker effectively pledges allegiance to Yakoob. These men are planning for the long term.
“We are all here until we die,” says one. “So we need to make sure we make a playing field for our next generation.”
Is Yakoob that next generation? Victory over Mahmood would probably be the biggest shock of this election. It remains unlikely, but it is not unthinkable. His campaign is more fascinating for what it represents than what it might achieve. It is amateurish, not professional, and built on charisma not data. He wants the approval of TikTok, not the BBC. Akhmed Yakoob might just be a curiosity. Or he could be the first sign of a truly new sectarian politics in Britain.

Honestly, I'm not sure what I'm doing here. I have suicidal thoughts right now but I'm not so sure I'll act on them. I almost did on my birthday yesterday if it hadn't been for my gf who has been light in the darkness since day one.
To give some context, I've been sort of stuck with my blood family for almost a year now and I've started to see all the ways in which they damaged me. I have osdd 1b so I'm used to blocking memories out (albeit not on purpose.) But since I've been stuck with what brought on this trauma and disorder in the first place, it's like I keep going through these mini trauma loops where I can't stop remembering the trauma. Like I will forget what someone said to me 5 minutes ago but the trauma is just there. Always. It's been constant.
It all came to a head 2 days ago on my 22nd birthday. I knew my dad had been drinking again despite dr orders and my mom's wishes, but I wasn't aware of how much. After my mom had to call an ambulance for him because he was being incoherent and belligerent again (he's a diabetic and his sugar was really high and not coming down, not even with his normal dosage of insulin) she began to panic (her usual) and was expressing how she was super scared to go alone. My gf offered to go with her (again the woman is a saint and she offered because otherwise my mother would have been horrible to deal with in the morning if she hadnt) and after some back and forth my mom accepted.
It didn't matter that my mom has a youngest child who should be able to go with her when I can't. I already had a bad day that day and was struggling with my suicidal thoughts coming in full force. I feel like I sound like such a wuss for expressing this and I feel like a coward both for the fact that I want to act on these thoughts and for not wanting to deal with my blood family's bs or drama anymore.
I am currently in the hospital with my mom today helping convince my slightly less incoherent dad to not leave so he can have fluid drained from his brain. Both of them are heated and making each other feel miserable. My dad is still in denial that he drinks too much for his own health and denies he's basically slowly killing himself. The fight escalated until mom finally threatened to leave completely because she can't handle the stress.
I am honestly very detached rn and I have to ask, is it still worth living through? I know others go through worse everyday and survive but I feel like I'm crumbling inside and I already feel halfway dead again. It's only a matter of time before the numb wears off and I come close to the edge again. So is it worth it for me to keep going and keep fighting when I feel like I'm falling into a pit and every step up I make I am knocked 10 steps down? And what I described here isn't even the half of it, it's just the newest addition to a plethora of shitty situations I'm trying to pull myself through.
Sorry for formatting issues I use mobile.

...thanks to you guys. I've been lurking the sub for a while, but I wanted to share my perspective and, who knows, maybe it will help someone. Bear with my anger for a bit.
Tw: body dysphoria
I (23F/NB?) live in a relatively progressive country. I have a nice family, nice friends, and my childhood was fairly normal.
However, I was an early bloomer. My boobs grew overnight, and I got my period when I was about 11. I remember everyone in my family celebrating the fact that "I was a woman now", even if all I could think about was the sheer amount of horror I felt when I looked at the blood-stained toilet paper. Now I know they didn't have any ill intentions, it's just the way society sees girls. So, the moment I hit puberty something clicked: my body was not mine anymore. It would never be mine again. My boy friends in school stopped talking to me. One of them came to me one day, looked at my boobs and said "woah, you are hot", and then ignored me for the rest of the year.
Now, I guess this is a universal experience for most people with a uterus. For some reason, we stop being kids way earlier than boys. Pervs honk when they see us walking down the street, or they stare at our boobs when they are talking to us. They don't give a sh*t that we are basically children.
The word I would use now to describe how I felt would be alienated. I was a nerd, so I was only approached by guys at least five or ten years older than me. They liked me because I was girly and guillible. It felt wrong. I felt like something was extremely wrong inside me. For a while, I stopped using the term "bisexual" and started considering myself a lesbian. I felt kind of better, but again, the women who approached me were far more "masculine" and wanted me to roleplay as the girl of the relationship. It felt awful.
On top of that, I started feeling extremely dysphoric. I hated my boobs, I hated my long hair, my soft voice and gentle manners. But most of all, I hated that my biology was flawed to the point where I would always be weaker than your average man. I felt useless and defenseless. What do you mean that any man could just throw me around if he wanted to? That thought still haunts me.
Recently, I reconnected with an ex boyfriend I broke up with because I was just so f*cking disgusted by myself, my body and my gender. We are dating again, and I'm extremely grateful for the fact that I'm comfortable enough to allow myself love and intimacy. I think that's partly because he's bi too, so he wouldn't care about whatever choices I end up making. He is CF, and I was a fence sitter until I met him. I always said "yeah, not gonna get pregnant. If I ever want kids, I'll just adopt". But I guess that my mind was still wired that way, and, deep down, I knew that everyone expected me to have bio children.
It's hard to be CF and "neutral" (speaking in terms of gender presentation) when everywhere you see moms just talking about the miracle of life. My reproductive organs disgust me because they remember me that nature made me to host a parasite inside my guts. Your average cisgender guy will live a life without experiencing the horrors that I (and half of the population) am bound to live with. What do you mean that these sacks of fat hanging from my chest not only hurt when I run or jump, but also make me feel like a sex object? What do you mean that I'll bleed monthly for 30 more years and then my body will fck me up in a bunch of other ways? What do you mean that my hormones can just control my mood and energy levels... forever? It's just so unfair. It's so fcking unfair. I could literally die from childbirth complications or post partum depression.
Not only do we have to cope with biological disadvantages, we also have to cope with the patriarchy! For a while, I tried to deal with my dysphoria by being ultrafeminine, but I felt like I was wearing costumes. It doesn't help that the image of the "empowered, independent woman" is a typically attractive, skinny and hot woman that appeals to the male gaze. I could never feel like an empowered woman if I was hairy and covered my boobs and chopped my hair myself at 3 a.m. with some kitchen scissors.
But yesterday I had a revelation. I was reading some rants in here that talked about dysphoria and the idea of pregnacy being "body horror". I found out I have a very bad case of tokophobia. But after reading how a lot of people are really happy and lead fulfilling lives being CF, I just kind of... Realized that I could be happy too. I guess I stopped being on the fence. Jesus, I can't imagine myself having to wake up at an ungodly hour because a random kid that lives in my house is crying. But I guess I said "whatever, maybe when I'm 30 or 35 the maternal instinct will kick in". Well fck no! Now that I have a CF boyfriend, I imagine my life in 10 or 20 years, I see myself having savings, fur babies and all the time in the world to play videogames, go on dates with my bf and just... Live life. I thought about my CF aunt, and how she spends the afternoons tending to her plants, painting and going out with friends. I realized that I could be more than my body, that I had a choice... In hindsight, it sounds kind of stupid. Of course I have a choice. But, when you grow up feeling like your body is: -a vessel for a parasite that will, no doubt, fck up your body -a sexual object -a fucked up machine with maaany flaws, especially when you compare yourself to men
God, it's so fucking hard to snap out of it. I'm so happy that I'm not alone in this journey. It's not easy, but I'm starting to accept myself. I don't even care about being considered a woman again, now that I understand that my dysphoria is mainly social. There's nothing wrong with my body, and there's also nothing wrong with finding it kind of gross and despising the idea of pregnancy. My boyfriend doesn't see me as a vessel or an object, he sees me as a human being. Maybe I was just unlucky in my past relationships, or maybe society sucks.
God, sorry for the long rant. If you are reading this, know that there's hope. I'm only at the beginning of this journey, but I feel like a weight was lifted from my weary shoulders.
Thank you for reading!

I recently stopped Slynd after I had routine lab work done which showed high A1c and cholesterol. I suspect it was the Slynd causing it so I stopped taking it about a month ago. Since then I’ve basically been bleeding every day, and in the past couple of days have been passing very large clots. I’m wondering if anyone else has had a similar experience? I figured it’s just my body adjusting to the change in hormones but am concerned about the amount of blood.
I also started taking Lexapro a few weeks ago to treat anxiety/depression so am wondering if that could play a factor. I think it’s actually been managing the pain though because despite the heavy bleeding the cramps haven’t been has bad as they were before I started taking Slynd.

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Hi all, my 1 year old kitty "Tabitha" who is one of my 3 cats will not go out on the screened in porch anymore, has changed her behavior, and her habits. It is making me very sad as I miss her! The 2 other cats are her mom and brother so no issues there. They are all fixed, and up to date on shots, and healthy. We did however move a month ago but she was perfectly fine and was enjoying the new home with the patio area. It happened about 5 days ago and she will not come out and will only stay in the very front room with occasional trips to the food/litter. Otherwise no matter what I am doing she is always in that front room. When I say changed behavior I mean completely. Ever since she was a baby she ALWAYS follows me into the bathroom, sleeps on the bed, and lays on my cloths when Im trying to get dressed! Very cute, and endearing!
There was an incident that happened one night when I was trying to get them in for bed and close up the patio area. She wouldn't come in so I picked her up and was bringing her in and she slit my hand with her hind paws trying to get down. I scolded her and blood was pooring out of my hand. I put a band-aid on it. I did tell her again that that was bad (not that she was bad} and she hurt grand mommy. She does let me pet her, eats, and plays with her kitty family but will not go away from the front of the house and do her normal kitty being!
I have sat down with her multiple times and said I was sorry for yelling at her and I knew she didn't mean it. I explained that this was for their safety at night time and inside at night always. I really, really MISS her and can't stand this anymore. If my yelling at her for hurting me did this to her and she is never going to be the same, happy, unusual furry baby, I cant keep her! I would spend the rest of my days very sad! I know you cat guardians/parents will understand this as other people that don't have the same love for our kitties really dont, and think I am weird for caring like this! Please help if you can or know of a solution. I do have the Feliway spray and I do not want to put her on meds! Ther must be a way to get to her psyche here? Thank you

This story is one that started a long time ago, but still affects my (32F) day-to-day life. Sorry everyone, it's a long one.
It began about 17 years ago, when I was 15 and still in school. I frequented internet forums including several fan sites of video games and books I enjoyed. One of these was a role playing forum where I and five others were writing stories together in our favourite universes. I got along well with the other members and it was a great way for me to learn English. Importantly, we only ever communicated through text, never through voice or video calls.
This is where I met the main character of this story, let's call him Tom. Tom said he was 19 years old, and was the only guy active on the forum. He had a great way with words, was mature beyond his years, and had a natural charisma about him. Naturally, as a 15-year-old with no prior experience with relationships, I was instantly drawn to this mysterious, well-spoken figure. Over the course of a month since meeting him, our conversations grew in frequency and depth, until eventually we spoke to each other on chat clients for 3-4 hours a day. At the same time, we continued writing our stories, including a plethora of romantic scenes between our respective characters. We also shared poems that we had written. It was an intense experience for me - I had never really had such a deep connection with a 'boy' before.
My parents never really taught me the importance of internet safety, and I can't blame them: it was all still very new at this time, also to them. It was Tom and my other friends on the forum that stressed how important it was to keep personal information private, especially when they learned my age. Tom especially was adamant never to share my location or photo with anyone, not even with him. It made me feel safe with him - for how could someone who so actively dissuaded me from sharing my information be a monster?
Of course I fell in love with him, to whatever extent a 15-year-old brain can comprehend love.
From written descriptions I had given of myself, Tom had expressed that he thought I must look beautiful, and so the fool that I was I gathered up the courage to send him a picture of myself anyway, desperate for his approval. He was complimentary, but did ask me why I had sent him a picture. I admitted my feelings for him. Tom was understanding, but stressed that he would never be able to give me what I needed from him.
Still, that did not stop either of us from progressing the nature of our interactions into something more sinister. I call it sinister looking back on it as an adult; at the time it was titillating and exciting. We started to send each other 'kisses' goodnight, sent back and forth explicit drawings depicting characters that looked like us, and described other intimate interactions over chat.
My mother once came into my room and witnessed Tom calling me by an endearing term. She interrogated me and I begged her not to make me break off contact with Tom. She listened to me, but made me promise her to be sensible. I want to scream at her now for not stopping it then.
My school friends did what my mother could not: they were concerned for my safety, and stepped to the headmistress, who called me into her office. After telling Tom about the encounter, he panicked. He told me we could no longer chat, and made me promise to tell the headmistress that it was over. I was heartbroken, but promised him.
I did ask Tom if we could still communicate through other means - we were doing some online art projects together that we both wanted to finish. He said yes, we could still maintain contact over e-mail and forum DM, but chat was off the table for now. I took what I could get.
The years that followed were chaotic. Sometimes our contact would be e-mail only, then we would move back to chat. At times, when things got too hard, I would decide to go no-contact for a while. I had my first real relationships in the lulls, but I would always come back. Tom would always receive me with open arms, either as a friend whenever I was dating someone, or rekindling our romantic interactions when I was not. He was always kind, patient, sensitive, and seemed selfless in his interactions with me. He made me feel so good about myself that I became obsessed with him, convinced he was the love of my life.
Three years in, Tom knew my real name, knew where I lived, and had seen nudes of me (he used one as his desktop background for years). At the same time, I knew nothing about Tom. What was worse, the few details he had unintentionally revealed weren't adding up.
Tom always portrayed our story as one of star-crossed lovers who due to circumstance outside our control could never be together. He told me I would never love him if I ever saw him in real life. First he claimed that his face had been ruined by flesh-eating bacteria. When my biology degree taught me that it's nearly impossible to survive that, he claimed body dysmorphic disorder (which I think to some extent was true).
Things reached boiling point six years into this mess. He slipped up, and revealed a detail about his life that directly contradicted the only concrete thing he had ever told me about himself: his age. I took a day to process, then confronted him, asking him how old he really was. After some initial resistance, he admitted that he had lied.
Mid-thirties, he said. A decade(!) older than he had at first claimed. I should have been furious, but after 6 years of being charmed and manipulated by him, I could only feel sorry for him. When I assured him that nothing between us had to change because of a 'number', he dropped the next bombshell:
Tom: "Alright then. Mid-forties."
I felt like I couldn't breathe. For years, I had been having sexually explicit conversations with someone old enough to be my father when I had believed him to be my age. What was worse, it had all started when I was underage. I gave Tom an ultimatum: either tell me the full truth about who he was; or lose me forever. I gave him two weeks to send me his information. He decided not to, which should have immediately set off the alarm bells that there was even more he was lying about; more he had to hide. I didn't even consider that in the moment; my heart was broken once again, and I cut off contact.
At the time, Tom and I had a number of mutual friends that we both spoke to regularly. Two of these were my cousin and his wife. I went to see them after I found out about Tom's real age, trying to find solace and understanding from someone who also knew him. I felt incredibly betrayed and angry, and asked that they also break contact - maybe that was a bit of an a-hole move. They said no: after all, Tom had never revealed his age to my cousin or his wife. As such, he had never lied to them, only to me, and they were not willing to end their friendship with Tom over that. When I asked what they thought of a 40-year-old having explicit conversations with a 15-year-old, they said that from a certain age, the teenager also has a responsibility in preventing this.
My cousin and his wife were not the only mutual friends that knew what was going on. Amazingly and invariably, NONE of our mutual friends chose to break contact with Tom over this. It caused immense doubt in me. Was I wrong in judging Tom for lying to me? Maybe the lie wasn't so terrible. And all those explicit conversations? Well, I instigated a large number of them, not Tom, so maybe I was equally, if not largely, to blame.
The way I see it now: Tom is like a cult leader: no matter what he does or says, his 'followers' will defend him; even blame themselves if it strips him of guilt. What is worse, anyone who dropped out of his inner circle would feel incredibly isolated and excluded. My friends would not play games with me because they preferred playing games with him. They would not write with me, because writing with him was so much more fun. I wish I'd had the strength to stay away, but one year later I came crawling back, desperate to be included into his circle once again, desperate for his affection that the others seemed to thrive under.
I was 22 at this time. Our contact was sporadic for the next four years - I was hesitant to engage romantically with him, even though part of me, despite everything he had put me through, still 'loved' him (trust me, writing this down, my naivety is making me want to claw my eyes out). I entered a relationship with someone else during this time, and went back to no-contact for most of its 4-year duration. When that relationship ended, Tom and I started talking more again, slowly slipping back into old habits and using the same terms of endearment we had used in the past. Tom revealed more details about himself now - he would talk about his boss, his sister, his friends, his home-town, and discussed things that were going on in his personal life. We also started talking over voice-chat, and damn it, he had an attractive voice.
I had just turned 27 when a response of his triggered me. We were recalling the early days of our interactions, and I mentioned how he had once accidentally sent me an e-mail from a throwaway account. I recalled the address letter by letter (I have a mild form of autism). He went very quiet, and then said that my memory was astounding.
Something in my lizard brain decided to look up the name in that e-mail address. I had done the same 12 years prior, but I had much more information now. It took me three hours to cross-reference the tidbits of information he had fed me over the months and years within the context of this name. And what do you know: it WAS his real name. I continued looking for the rest of the evening.. and I found much more than I bargained for.
You see, Tom was not the only person registered to his house. He was reported to live there with a woman who shared his last name, let's call her Hannah. I naively thought she might be the sister he mentioned (though he had given another name). Fortunately for me, Hannah was a lot less careful than Tom with her personal information, and I soon found a link to her blog on her Twitter page. A goldmine of information, going back over 10 years, covering almost every single day since Tom and I started talking.
My blood went cold as I started reading. It soon became clear to me that not only was Hannah his WIFE of 25-or-so years, they had an 11-year-old SON together (let's call him Jacob). I was 100% sure it was his wife writing - I could easily cross-reference the little things he had told me (assembling a bookcase, having lamb for dinner, visiting SIL for the weekend, getting a sunburn) with the details she was sharing about their life.
Once more, I should have run for the hills. Once more, I didn't. I often wonder how I could have been so stupid as to let this shitshow continue for so long, despite the thousand-and-one reasons Tom had given me to drop him. I can only attribute it to some kind of twisted sunk cost fallacy. By recognising Tom for the monster that he was, I had to face having loved that monster for over a decade. It meant admitting to myself that I was a terrible judge of character, and how could I possibly trust anyone ever again if I could not trust my own judgment? Also, all our mutual friends had always normalised his behaviour to the extent that it seemed almost arrogant to say that HE was in the wrong.
Because of the reactions that I had received from my friends and cousin last time, I kept what I knew to myself, even from Tom. Enter the next ridiculous phase of the story: Tom was saying how he was ordering a passport SO THAT HE COULD COME TO VISIT ME AND MY COUSIN. And idiot that I was, I wanted nothing more, because I was STILL IN LOVE WITH THE SH*T even after everything he had done, now not only to me, but also to his wife Hannah and his son.
I met him in real life five months later. He would be visiting my house for the day, and I was planning to confront him about what I knew. I had given one of my close friends his real name and address, and had told them to contact the police in the event they didn't hear from me by evening - I had no idea how Tom would react when exposed. Probably the fact that I felt unsafe in the first place should have been enough reason not to meet him alone.
We met, and I wish I didn't feel attracted to this 50-year-old but I did. We talked a lot. Eventually, I decided to test him, to see if he would be disloyal to his wife. While our conversations had definitely been flirty over the past year or so, I had never actually been straight with Tom and told him I still felt the same way. So I told him. Credit to him where it is due, he said he couldn't pursue a relationship with me, but followed it up with 'that we could still hold hands and hug'. He did not tell me why he couldn't, of course.
Only then did I reveal what I knew. I told him I've known for months now what his real name is, where he works, where he lives, and who he lives with. I probably could've been a bit more sensitive in how I brought it up (but let's be honest he doesn't deserve it and I was pretty pissed off keeping this stuff inside for 5 months). He turned incredibly pale and said that I could ask him anything I wanted to know. I asked him about his wife and their relationship (which hadn't been good for years according to him), his son (the pride of his life), and why on earth he had chosen to have explicit exchanges with a 15-year-old as a married man ('I was drunk').
During his stay, we were never intimate in the 'spicy' way, but we did hold hands a lot, he would have his hand on my leg, and we shared long hugs. He stayed the nights at my cousin's, and a few days later he left to go back to his country.
I am not proud of what happened next. Over the next months, we video chatted almost every evening. The conversations got flirtier, the amount of clothes we were wearing diminished until we both went into the calls topless.
One night, things escalated. We had gotten into a fight earlier in the evening - he had revealed that during that first real-life meeting, he had made an audio recording of the whole conversation, apparently so he could later prove to his wife that nothing happened. I responded that it was ok (it totally wasn't but that's beside the point), that I had taken precautions as well, and told him about the friend I had contacted. He lost it, saying I had no right to share his personal details with my friend or anyone else. I got angry in return, saying that he had no reason to distrust me as in the 12 years of knowing each other I had never lied to him; on the other hand I had EVERY reason to distrust him as he literally hid a wife and son from me, and had lied to a 15-year-old girl about his age.
We were both emotionally drained after, and I took things a step further that night, and seduced him into doing more together in front of the camera, maybe knowing that he would be too drained to refuse. He asked me later if I had consciously manipulated him into going along with it, choosing a vulnerable moment to strike - maybe I did, and I regret it.
Over the next months, our 'mishap' developed into a full-blown affair. I visited his home-town about 5 times in the year that followed. We kissed, and did basically everything apart from the 'deed' itself. I think he never wanted to have traditional sex either because then he could keep justifying to himself that he hadn't cheated on his wife, or because he was terrified of getting me pregnant. During my stays in his home-town, he would bring his son Jacob along to our lunches and dinners. Mostly to pacify his wife I suspect, for how could it be an affair with his son around? I loved the kid, we got along well, but I hated the lie that I had to live. To put myself through this was one thing, but it was so unbelievably unfair on Hannah and Jacob.
The whole situation sent me into severe depression. I was abandoning my morals for this man whom I still could not trust. I was lonely, and didn't date because I refused to be a cheater myself (maybe hypocritical). With every real-life meeting, his mask slipped further, and by the end there was little left of the charismatic, caring man that I had imagined him to be. Still, I was so entangled with him that I could not imagine my life without Tom. I did not know who I was without this person, who had completely overshadowed at this point almost half my life and all my adult life. I was stuck.
Eventually, I gave Tom an ultimatum again: Hannah, or me. I gave him two months to make up his mind. We spoke daily, and as his 'deadline' was approaching he became verbally aggressive with me, saying that he wasn't enjoying our conversations as much as he used to because I kept bringing up the choice he had to make. I asked him what he needed from me. He said he needed more time. I am ashamed to say I gave him that time.
I was lucky to have found two very close friends among my colleagues over the course of this whole drama. They had slowly witnessed the situation devolve into something unmaintainable. One of them often visited when I had panic attacks; she even slept next to me on the bad nights to make sure I'd be ok. They recommended me to make written lists of the red flags that I saw, the abusive behaviours Tom had demonstrated, and the effects the whole situation was having on me. They made me see how he would never choose me, that he was happy using everything and everyone as long as it served his needs. They slowly guided me into making the right decision during a work conference, when I didn't have time to contact Tom. Being away from his reach for a week, combined with the continuous talks with my two friends throughout the conference, made me strong enough to make a decision. Together, we agreed that as soon as I got back home, I would call Tom and cut ties with him. My friends would be available on call straight after.
Thanks to my friends, I went through with it. I cut contact almost three years ago now. As expected, he did not fight for me, and never tried to contact me again. My friends saw me through the worst of it.
Four months after cutting ties with Tom, I met the man who is now my husband, and we are currently expecting a baby. He makes me unbelievably happy, and has taught me what a loving relationship should feel like. He knows about this whole story and is very supportive. He even encouraged me to post this as he believes it'd help me process things.
I am still in touch with some of Tom's friends: my cousin, his wife, and a 40-year-old woman who has been my friend since the start of this whole story and was my MOH during my wedding. I have decided not to hold it against them that they cannot let go of Tom - hell, I couldn't let go for 14 years. It just demonstrates the horrible grip and influence he has on people. My MOH and I have an understanding that we don't discuss Tom, and that saved the friendship - we actually have a lot in common and enjoy each other's company a lot. I refuse to lose any more people over him.
I am in a good place now, looking forward to the future, and can't wait to meet our child. Still, this experience has not left me unscathed. I still struggle with trust, in other people and myself, and feel that I am responsible for a lot of what happened. I feel incredibly ashamed and naive for my behaviour over the years. I especially feel horrible about what I did to Hannah and Jacob - as far as I know, Tom never told them about the affair, but I would be very surprised if Hannah didn't know what was going on. I do have my suspicions that I am not the only one Tom did this with, but I have no proof, and it does not take away any of my responsibility in all of this.
So reddit: did I seduce Tom as a 15-year-old, or did he groom me and manipulate me into falling for him? Or was our interaction simply toxic on both sides, and not any one person's fault? And AITA for having pursued this affair even after I found out Tom was married? Also, should I reach out to Hannah (though honestly I would be a bit scared to do so, and I don't feel at all like reinserting myself into Tom's life in any way)?
And finally the question that still keeps me up at night: did Tom ruin half my life, or did I do that all by myself? And if I had a role to play in this, am I fit to be a mother?
TL;DR: As a 15-year-old, I fell in love with a man who claimed he was 19 but was actually 40. 12 years later, I found out he had a wife and son, but had become so infatuated with him that I pursued an affair with him. I ended the affair two years later but still feel guilty. I feel like much of what happened is my responsibility, since I instigated most of the intimacy. AITA?

Hello, I have two cats. I adopted the second cat at the beginning of Feb 2022. We had a lot of issues with him in the beginning bc he had ring worm and actual worms. But once those issues were solved, everything was perfectly fine. Then at the end of 2022, we moved to a new state and for the first two months, still no issues. But I went on vacation for a week and left my cats with a cat sitter. When I came back, my apartment REEKED of cat pee and I noticed one of my cats had peed outside of the box. I determined it was my younger cat and he continued to pee outside of the box until I switched his litter to a clay litter and kept that thing SPOTLESS.
From Jan 2023 to Nov 2023, we had multiple recurrences but towards the end he seemed to do well. Then we moved into a new apartment and I purchased a litter robot to help make sure that his box was always scooped. He did extremely well for three months, then did it again. We’ve only had a couple more episodes until recently.
The last three days, he has ONLY gone pee outside of the box. I have deep cleaned the whole litter robot, the entire litter area, I put cat litter attractant inside of the box. I’ve taken him to the vet in the past and nothing has been wrong. They temporarily put him on anxiety meds then he just goes back.
I don’t have enough room in my apartment for a second litter box, that’s why I spent the money to buy a litter robot. I also can’t change his litter because that seems to amplify the problem. He’s using a clay litter. My apartment smells like pee all the time, I am so tired of having to clean up cat piss. I am spending so much f-ing money trying to make this cat happy. I am honestly at a breaking point to where I need to rehome him.
A non exhaustive list of things I’ve tried:

• Multiple vet appointments, UTI infection testing, blood work, anxiety medication
• Stainless steel litter box
• Deep cleaning the litter box once per week, scooping 2-3 x’s per day
• Cat litter attractant
• Litter robot- deep cleaning the LR, using cat litter attractant, using an enzyme cleaner on LR and areas he owes outside of the box

It should be noted that the litter robot is tucked away in a corner but still open enough to not trap doors. There is no loudness around it. My oldest cat also stays tf away from my younger cat (he hangs out in my closet high up where he can’t get him) so privacy isn’t an issue. My second cat is extremely clean and always covers his poops. Please help idk what to do.

Aidin didn't need another cautionary tale about the Phaal, but he could tell from the slight crinkle of Isa's forehead that he was about to hear one.
"There's something else you should know," she said.
So predictable. "If you're going to tell me how deadly-"
"It's not that," she interrupted, and it suddenly occurred to Aidin that he was probably just as predictable to her as she was to him. "It's something else. Something worse."
"What's worse than-"
"They can read minds. They can read your mind. Human minds. They might be reading your mind right now."
"I see," nodded Aidin, digesting the information. "Actually, I don't think I do see. Why is that worse?"
"Because the only way we're getting out of here is if you can beat them at Phaal's Poker."
Aidin and Isa were sat on the floor of a holding cell, but it was unlike any of the cells they'd found themselves in before. And they'd found themselves in plenty. For most artefact dealers, there was a fine line between running a successful operation and staying on the right side of The Expanse's arbiters. Usually you had to pick one.
Their cell was shaped like the number 8, with two, circular chambers separated by a gap just wide enough to squeeze a human arm through. They could've passed items to each other had they been allowed to keep anything worth passing. Instead, all they'd exchanged so far were words and glances. And thoughts.
Each half of the cell was empty save from a polymer bucket, and a singular light hung in the gap, half-heartedly illuminating both halves at the same time.
It was hard for either of them to know how long they'd been there. There were no windows, and besides, time moved strangely in these far-flung corners of The Expanse. Still, Aidin's stomach had given way to a deep, aching growl. They'd clearly been here for too long.
___
Phaal's Poker. Aidin had only heard the rumours. Invented by the Phaal, mastered by the Phaal. It was said that nobody could beat them at their own game, least of all humans, and now he understood why. How do you deceive something that knows what you're thinking?
"Can't you play?" asked Aidin.
Isa shook her head. "They can't read me. They'll insist on playing you."
Aidin's eyes dropped and settled on his moaning gut. He was used to hunger, but this felt different. Like his body had resorted to feeding on itself.
"Right. Excellent. And if I lose?"
Isa raised an eyebrow. "Don't lose."
Aidin sighed. This was not what he had envisioned when he took the job, but jobs like this rarely went as planned. That much he knew. "So what're the rules?"
"Ah, yes." Isa straightened, her eyes widening with an enthusiasm that felt at odds with their current predicament. "It's actually a rather elegant game."
"Well then, lucky me," said Aidin, his patience eroding with every gurgling hunger pang. Isa persevered.
"Two players face each other. Each player takes a coin - but it can be anything small and flat - and places it - secretly, mind - into one of their hands - or whatever they use to hold stuff." Isa's excitement continued to build. "You win by finding your opponent's coin and tricking them into missing yours."
"What if you both find each other's coins?"
"Then the game starts again. Same if both players get it wrong, but-" she caught herself. "But-"
"-Phaal don't get it wrong." offered Aidin.
Isa slumped back against the wall. "No, they don't. At least, not when they're playing humans."
"So if the Phaal never miss, it means I can't win," reasoned Aidin. "I can only delay the inevitable by forcing a rematch."
"Yes. That's the long and short of it," said Isa. "But perhaps..." she trailed off, and Aidin interrogated the slight narrowing of her eyes. He'd seen that squint before.
"You've got an idea, haven't you?" he said.
"What if," ventured Isa, "there is a way?" At this she stood up, her dormant bones clicking back into action. She paced back and forth across the diameter of her half of the cell, moving in and out of Aidin's view through the small gap that separated them. Her lips moved silently, her fingers traced patterns in the air.
"I'm listening," said Aidin, veiling his intense relief as best he could. She always had an idea. "Whenever you're ready."
After what felt to Aidin like an age, Isa stopped in the middle of her cell and moved close to the gap, locking eyes with him again. The light hovered above her head, and it reminded Aidin of the cartoons he used to watch back on Earth. This was an idea alright.
Isa pointed at him: "You have one advantage over the other humans who have played Phaal's Poker, don't you?" Aidin nodded, but he didn't know what she was talking about. Isa sensed it. "Aidin, you know they can read your mind. The others won't have known. We can use that."
"Okay. Yeah. I can see it. Fine." He stared at her blankly. "But how exactly? If I'm thinking about lying about which hand my coin is in, they're still going to know I'm lying."
"Sure", said Isa. She was confident now, like a detective about to reveal the culprit. "But what if you don't think about the game at all?"
___
Aidin's eyes burned into the silhouetted backs of the two human guards that escorted him down a dark, seemingly endless corridor. "You can talk to me y'know," he spat. No response. Fucking traitors.
The width of the corridor fluctuated. In parts it was wide - almost palatial - but then the wood-panelled walls would tighten inwards and suddenly it was so narrow that the guards had to walk in single-file. Then they'd open up again. Intermittent lights along the ceiling made their shadows shorten and stretch.
He hadn't seen wood for some time, let alone wood-panels. These Phaal were wealthy - trees didn't grow on planets in these parts. If not for his bounds he would've reached out and ran his fingers along them.
Without warning the guards stopped outside a door. One turned to face him, and Aidin opened his mouth, ready to tell him what he thought about humans that had crossed over. But all he could muster was a stifled gasp.
The guard's eyes had been gouged out, leaving two, pitted caverns in their place. Two smaller holes punctured a flat, scarred surface where his nose should've been, and his mouth was sewn shut with rusted, blood-stained wire. His ears were still in tact.
The guard reached for the door handle with a gloved hand, and Aidin scrambled to gather himself. This is what could happen to me, he thought. This is what could happen if I lose.
The door swung open. Aidin's hunger continued to eat away at his insides.
___
A small, wooden coin was placed in front of each player by one of the mutilated guards that had escorted Aidin to the room. Like his cell, the room was empty save for the metal table and chairs on which they sat and a light that glowed above them. But unlike his cell, this one was square. Disgusting place, he thought.
He glanced up at the Phaal sat across from him, remembering with a spike of panic that his thoughts weren't private anymore. But it was unclear to him whether it was listening: just like the two human guards stood either side of them, the Phaal were faceless.
He had never seen one in real life before, but Isa's description was pretty accurate. Humans are mostly carbon and oxygen, Phaal are mostly calcium and keratin. Imagine if you tried to piece together a human using only bones, teeth, nails and hair.
Its whole chest was covered by a wooden-beaded necklace, which, based on the differing shades of brown, looked like an assortment of various woods. More posturing.
With a sudden lurch, the Phaal raised a hand and placed it on top of its coin. The hand was human-like in shape, but paper-white and hard. Thick cables of hair coiled around each finger, digging grooves into their surface like a vine eroding the brick of a decaying building. It dragged the coin off the table with a screech that felt like it was peeling away at Aidin's eardrums.
Aidin - his bounds cut once the door to the room had been shut - took his own coin in response, passed it between his sweat-lined hands and recited Isa's words in his mind over and over, like a mantra. Grip one half of the coin with your left hand, and the other half of the coin with your right. Then focus on what you'll eat when we get out of here.
The Phaal angled its head slightly, and Aidin wondered whether it was listening now. After a moment, the blank oval of bone, hair and teeth rocked back and fourth very slowly. It was nodding. Then it placed two clenched fists on the table.
Grip one half of the coin with your left hand, and the other half of the coin with your right. Then focus on what you'll eat when we get out of here.
Aidin closed his eyes and thought about food. He knew that the food he'd be eating if he ever escaped this place would likely be the same food he and Isa had eaten since they'd met all those years ago. A grool of proteins, most of which could be harvested from even the most barren atmospheres of The Outer Expanse.
But his mind was a pantry, and he had stocked it with a myriad of memories. He remembered melted cheese on home-baked bread. He could almost taste his mother's cinnamon apples and golden custard. He could recall the smell of fried potatoes with such precision that it almost felt to Aidin as though they, and not his own coiled hands, had just been placed onto the table in front of him.
Focus on what you'll eat when you get out of here. Fruit. Grapes. The juice of those grapes. God damn I miss grapes. Fucking grapes. I never even wanted 'em when I was a kid. Now I'd kill for a grape. Fuck it I'd die for a grape. I'd-
A cold, callous touch to his right hand dragged his mind away from the grapes and back into the room.
The Phaal had made its choice. And as soon as Aidin realised what was happening, the Phaal knew that it had chosen wrongly.
The coin had found its way into Aidin's left hand.
Now it was Aidin's turn to choose. My turn, he thought, and the Phaal nodded again.

Content warning: Contains mental health issues and physical violence.
The world breaks like glass, shattered as the world disappears into a black void. Embodiment of the soul floats in idle as shattered glass falls slower. It’s a shame, for souls to have lost their way but can still function. A blare bursts out from a black clock, soon to come at a silence from the smack of a button.
I wake up in a daze, accompanied by the sound of light rain getting caught by my bedroom window. I realize no other sound is made; my house falls silent. How unusual for morning hours. I get up from my bed, grabbing a set of clothes from my closet. Then, the realization hit once I hear my little sister’s muffled cry in a separate room, next to mine. “Right, my mother has died, how could I be so forgetful.”
June 7th, 2024, was the mark of my mother’s death. That night’s incident came at a flash. Me and my mother were walking on a familiar route. We were on a sidewalk with a silver railing attached on the opposing side of the black covered roads. During our walk, we discussed about my future while returning home with our groceries. Clouds were turning dark, so we sped up.
Then, a figure, that I can’t identify, came to me and my mother with a knife. This person kept going at my mother, enchasing their knife with blood. But why? Even when I landed jabs at this person, they wouldn’t stop stabbing my mother. After about five minutes of trading hits, this person ran away, dropping their blood filled knife, marking a path like a skipping rock. My mother sustained crucial damage and had a look of disappointment as I came to wrap her wounds and held her. In an immediate decision, I called for help on my phone. Rain started to settle, mixing with the blood of my mother’s body. As more blood exits her body, the more her heart rate diminished. Within a few moments, I was holding a corpse. Ambulance didn’t arrive on time.
A void started to close around me, leaving out all reality, and that was the last moment I could remember.
“That’ll be all for today, Mr. Mason. Thank you for telling us all the information from last night, we’ll be contacting you soon after we investigate this situation. You’re free to leave.” I exit out the interrogation after a brief amount of time, recollecting everything that has happened. My sister waited for me outside the room.
“Do you think they will be able to find the murderer?” My little sister has been tearing up for three hours, devastated from the loss of our mother. You could tell by her distressed look.
“Yes, don’t worry. We will be protected from this murderer.” I knew she would be worried about the murderer getting us next, though I am unsure if that is true. The murderer had one target last night, my mother in this instance, however I never understood the reason why. Did she have a debt overdue to a suspicious organization? Whatever the case, our family is in hot shit, and we need to protect ourselves.
“Are you sure, big brother?”
“Yes, let’s leave now, Julie. Come on, grab my hand.” We exit the stone building, having a few eyes following us as we left. As we step foot outside, rain welcomes us. Clouds are still darker than usual, longer than anticipated. We walk at a slow pace, my sister grabbing on to the wet silver railings as we pass the same street of last night’s incident. “The investigators are going to examine the knife tonight.”
“Will they be able to find the murderer soon, then?” There is a bit of an energy boost as she hears the news but is held back with grief once again.
“Yeah, possibility tonight. They will give me a call if they find anything.” My sister looks back to the ground in response.
We arrive home after a slow silent trip, knocking our shoes off towards the wooden shoe rack. “I’ll prepare lunch.” I grab some bread, cut two slices of tomato, cut some lettuce and prepare to cook bacon. I place two black pans on to the four heated stove, toasting bread on one pan, and placing bacon on the other. After a few minutes of flipping the bread and checking the bacon, I prepare to make our BLTs. I place our BLTs on our wooden family table. “Julie! Lunch is ready.”
We both sit in silence, eating our BLTs. Eating without our mother makes the family table seem pointless to attend, but we act as if she is still with us. Finishing our plates, I get up and head to my room to do my own investigation. “Julie, I am going to be busy for a while, okay?”
“Okay.” My sister has created a wall.
I get into my room, shutting the door behind me. I turn on my idle computer to wake from its slumber, soon followed by my monitor. Illuminating my face with light blue, I enter in my password and start searching the web for the location of the murder. There are a few articles about similar incidents happening, some dating back to recent months, the earliest being from a month ago, May 4th, 2024. Digging deeper into the articles, I discover about one man in particular, a tall black male that is about 6’4”, middle aged.
I research this man for about the second half of the day, coming to a realization that I haven’t made dinner yet. I open my door and make way to my living room, where I hear a news channel running on television. My sister is bundled up with her white bunny plushie, watching the news about our mother’s death. I look out a window, noticing a black void, and soon is followed by the same black figure climbing into the front window of my house, going straight for my sister. I lunge forward to the black figure, wrestling it, trading punches on the floor. My sister is screaming throughout the whole fight, but soon is silenced as the figure escapes my grasp and stabs my sister multiple times. I try to grab and strangle the figure, but the figure escapes by jumping out my window, dropping their knife once again.
I sit in silence, staring at the body of my sister, blood spilling out as she loses colour. “Why does this have to happen?” Void closes in on me once again, reality vanishing right before my eyes.
I wake up in an unfamiliar place, I am in a falling position, but I am not falling from anywhere. There is broken glass all around me. I look around and notice a figure, and it spoke, “Welcome back, how’s life?”
“Who are you? Where am I?” I am frightened by this event.
“Well, I am you, don’t you remember?” The area around us turned to a bright light, illumining the area. I am soon faced with the figure, and I realize the body is similar to the murderer going after my family.
“What sick joke is this? Why are you after my family?” My anger rises, still frightened.
“You mean, why are you going after your own family? You are the one killing off everyone you have left, don’t you remember?”
I step forward to the figure, but soon wake up in a hospital bed. “Must’ve been a dream, I guess.”
“Mr. Mason! Are you okay? Are you feeling well? You were knocked out in your home, along with your sister.” I am in a daze, feeling drained from waking up.
“Yes, I am okay. Is my sister alright?” I panic to await a response, hoping that my sister did not die that night.
“She’s alive, but in critical condition. You have been knocked out for a week, and the investigation has come to a finish. The investigators would like to speak to you whenever you’re ready.”
“Thank you.” I am filled with hope after hearing all the news. I lay in bed for a few more hours to recover and rethink everything. Feeling ready, I arise from my hospital bed and take a tour around the hospital to find my sister’s room.
I step into the room, looking at my sister. Then a doctor comes up to me and says, “She’s still unconscious, but her vital signs are active. We’ll update you if there is any change to her condition.”
“Thank you.” Before heading out of my sister’s hospital room, two older men step into the room and come up to me.
“Mr. Mason? We’d like to speak with you about the recent incidents. Come with us to the police station.” I am so close to finding out who this murderer is. Before heading out of the hospital, I sign some documents to update my records. The two are patient with me.
“Alright, I am ready to leave.” I drop the pen and walk out the main doors with the two men. They guide me to their four seated black car, and gesture me to go into the back of the car. For all of the ride, we kept silent as we headed towards the local police station.
“We have arrived. Let’s go inside.” The three of us get up, stepping foot into the same stone building I was in a week ago. Inside the building, we head for the interrogation room, a different one from last time. The room didn’t look so different itself, but the location is different. This time, a policeman is attending this meeting. I didn’t question the reason.
“So, we came to a conclusion of who murdered Jane and Julie Smith. It took a long time to verify the information as it came to a shock to the whole investigation team. After examining the two knives that the murderer left on scene, the system came to one person. That person would be you, Mason Smith.” I am confused by the results as the man spoke his words, but before I could speak, the other man speaks.
“Mason, we bring you here today to ask a few questions. In case you get violent, we have this police officer here to assist the situation.” My anger starts to fuel.
“How could this be possible? I saw the man myself! You must be framing me; I cannot trust you. In fact, I think you guys are the people involved with murdering my family.”
“Calm down, Mason. A witness from Witwerld Street sent us evidence of you stabbing your mother and beating yourself to a pulp. With the information tied together, we can assume you are the murderer in both cases. We’ll play the video for you.” I look at the video, seeing myself stab my own mother while punching my face.
“How could this be? This can’t be real.” I am in disbelief as I see myself holding my mother’s corpse, but soon am filled with sudden anger. “I see now. All of this is to get me, an incident citizen, into jail. What have I done to all of you guys to deserve this? Framing me with knives and now making a fake video?” In the corners of the room, black void appears.
“You can play this act up all you want, but you’re the murderer. Now, we can help you if you need it, but we need you to cooperate.
“Help me? You are digging me into the dirt right here!” I get up and try to leave the room but am pushed back to my chair by the back of a rifle.
“Stay in your seat!” The policeman is a mean guy. I stare into his eyes with anger, and notice the void growing at a quick pace, closing in on the policeman. The world is gone again. In a blink of an eye, I am faced with a broken mirror, seeing my own reflection. The area is filled with white all around.
“What is this. Why am I here?” I touch the mirror, and the shriek of broken glass responds to my ears as the area turns into a void. The mirror disappears, and soon the glass starts falling with me. After what felt like an hour, I am on my feet again. As I step foot, ripples of water respond. I start walking in a random direction, memories being showcased for a quick moment as I make a path.
“Oh, hey there. After all these years, you are here with me at last. Welcome back, Mason.” The familiar black figure that has been with me for this whole journey, has appeared. They are sitting on a white chair, cross legged. Droplets of rain appear, making a silent rhythm, and soon a flash of all my memories surround me, playing vivid loops of my life. Then, they disappear to the command of a snap from the black figure.
“Yes, I am back home.”
Note: I am not sure if I am able to post short stories here as there is no clear rule to it. However, based off my own judgement, it seems that it is acceptable. Anyway, I am looking for sources to upload my writings, and I ended up finding this subreddit. I would upload on Wattpad, but.. Yeah, I think I am good on that. My goal is to get additional feedback on my writing. I am currently in a creative writing class, but I want to practice further outside of that.

It was a beautiful summer day. I decided to try my luck again. So, armed with a CD sample, I went to the record label. I was full of hope. It was in vain, as I was rejected again.
I decided to go to a night club. I felt like having something to drink to forget about the day. So I got there and was seated. I ordered a beer. I watched people dance. People talk.
Suddenly, I saw a man in a suit. He was good looking. He came and politely asked if he could take a seat next to me.
I agreed. I was focusing on my drink and cigarette. I wanted to offer him a cigarette, but he refused.
"Smoking kills!" said the man. "Make sure you give up smoking once you get signed" continued the man.
"What do you mean?" I asked. We were interrupted by the arrival of a famous rock star. The star entered the scene, with his bodyguards and thred young ladies.
The star, whom I knew and listened to approached the man at my table. The star kissed his hand. The man smiled.
I was speechless. The star went to a private lounge and was soon attended by an army of waiters.
"Would you like to be just like him?" the guy asked.
"Sir, are you a music manager?" I asked. The man smiled and spoke in a strange language, one I couldn't understand.
I didn't understand. But I really wanted to be a music star.
I finished my drink. The man asked me to order another one. And another. I noticed he never ordered anything. He never drank or smoked at all.
Two gangsters entered the club. The man told me not to buy any drugs from them.
And sure enough, they tried to sell me some crack. I refused. One of them pulled a knife. The two told me to give them everything I got.
Calmly, the man got on his feet. "What are you looking at?" the thugs asked him.
The thugs started to cough. Their coughing soon turned very violent. One of them puked blood.
They left us, still coughing. They hit the floor, coughing and convulsing. An ambulance was called.
"If you were a famous singer, like you dream of, none of them would ever dare to disturb you again." the man said.
"They rejected me yet again." I replied. I also told him I was seriously thinking about quitting this idea. The man told me I should pursue my dream. He told me the only thing I needed was a little help.
"Can you help me? Do you know someone?" I asked. The man nodded and made eye contact. "Do you want me to help you get famous?" he asked.
"Y.. Yes!" I replied. His eyes were beautiful beyond words. "I can turn you into a big star, but you will need to listen to me, ok?"
"Yes, sure" I replied.
Suddenly, a doctor from the ambulance came and asked: "Sir, are you ok? Who are you talking to?"
I looked at the man, but he was gone. There was no one at the table. The man was gone.
"Come with me, sir!" said the doctor. The man appeared again. I looked at him. He produced, God knows where from, a contract.
"All you ever dreamed of will soon become real. Fame, money, mansions, the girl of your dream..." said the man.
The contract was filled with symbols. I instinctively knew what it was, who it was, and what I needed to do.
The "man" kept eye contact.
"Holidays around the world, billions screaming your name, power, fame.." "Sir!" screamed the doctor and then violently pulled me by my hand.
The man got on his feet, and opened his mouth and I saw black scorpions pouring out of his mouth and he screamed.
The doctor dragged me out of the nightclub. I felt hit. I almost fell to the ground. The doctor helped me and took me to the ambulance.
I noticed my body was covered in scratches. I was bleeding. They rushed me to the hospital.
I slept a lot. I woke up at the hospital. Was it all a dream? Did I just drink too much? Yeah, that must be it... I had too much alcohol, that's all.
But as I convinced myself none of this was real and I just got very drunk, my eyes saw it on the nearby table. The contract.

All things come to an end. But some only lie still, forgotten
This book is fantastic. I've been wanting to say that since I finished it a few days ago. There are books that you see mentioned all the time and to some extent you think "i'm sure its good, but there's probably some exaggeration in there as well". You expect to be let down and try not to get your hopes up too high. Because there's nothing worse than having high expectations and being let down. Well, The Blade Itself is a case where high expectations are well earned. The start was a bit slow for me. Random guy gets attacked in the woods by some monsters, then falls off a cliff. I was wondering "Ok. Where are we going with this? Is he the protagonist or just a walking dead guy meant to show the tone of the story?" But from that introduction this grows into a truly epic tale set in kind of a harsh world in which you'll see a growing war, magical powers returning, and different political players seeking to take advantage wherever they can. If I had to throw three important words out to describe this book it would be Action, Characters, Intrigue.
This isn't some power fantasy where the protagonist is getting into fights every chapter and steamrolling all of his opponents. But when he, or anyone else, gets into a fight it's a real, no holds barred, tip of the nose, bloody fight. Political/social intrigue is just as important, if not more so, because this is a case where the plot focuses heavily on the actual politics involved in running different organizations and gradually building toward, what seems like it'll be, a new world war. And at the heart of everything it's the point of view characters that bring it all together and make you want to keep reading. Kudos to the author for actually making them all distinct. There are a few similarities between some of them, but this isn't a story in which you'll be confused when switching from one to the other.

Thoughts

It's a sorry fact that the man who strikes first usually strikes last
In my opinion, this story is kind of a giant subversion on classic fantasy tropes. I'd say the "main" protagonist is Logen Ninefingers, a viscious northman with a bloody past who seems to be trying to change for the better. But that past keeps coming back to bite him as he associates with old enemies and, more importantly, comes into contact with the mage Bayaz who wants to use Logen for unknown reasons. And that's one major subversion right there. Bayaz and Logen come into contact because Bayaz sent his apprentice to find Logen. Bayaz didn't do it himself. Bayaz and Logen aren't old friends. Bayaz didn't know Logen's father (Or if he did it isn't mentioned here). Bayaz knows of Logen, needs him for something, and sends someone to fetch him. He does the same with another protagonist from a different region of the world named Ferro Maljinn. In fact, the group of companions that has formed by the story's end were all gathered by Bayaz, mostly through him sending his proxies to find them. And he clearly has some mystical quest planned for them all, but this isn't a story about destiny or fate leading a group together. It's not about friends reuniting or one man gradually gathering a group of trusted friends who he saves on his way. It's all the manipulations of Bayaz setting these characters up to follow him, as if he's moving chess pieces on a board. And its brilliant.
Bayaz himself is not the stereotypical wise wizard. Instead you have this solidly built, bald, arrogant man who will set a group of men on fire, be physically taxed by it, and keep going on his merry way. He's not providing words of wisdom, he's speaking in riddles and keeping his cards close to the chest. He looks down his nose at his apprentice constantly and clearly believes he knows what's best for everyone. In turn you have Logen who is trying to be better, but constantly struggling to do so and by the story's end he completely loses it to what could be called a more bloodthirsty alter ego (The Bloody Nine) who proceeds to kill the enemies before him like a maniac. Ferro, who in another story might be a noble freedom fighter after having escaped slavery, is in some ways just as harsh as Logen, seeking to cause as much harm as possible to the people she despises (And notably being pretty damn racist as well lol). None of these characters, and there are more I haven't mentioned, are who you'd expect them to be in a classical fantasy novel, but it's handled so damn well and I love it.

Points of View

Why do I do this? Why?
Apart from Logen and Ferro there are 4 other point of view characters.
Collem West, an aging soldier from a poor background
Dogman, a northman who was in a group with Logen right as things went to shit at the story's start
Sand dan Glokta, former soldier, current cripple and member of the King's Inquisition
Jezal dan Luthar, nobleman and aspiring swordsman who is too lazy for his own good
I'll say that Ferro absolutely gets the least amount of focus, probably followed by the Dogman right after. Collem and Jezal are actual friends at the story's start, so even when you're following one of them the other will often appear as well. Glokta will pop up in their segments too, and vice versa, since all 3 of them are located in the same city. Overall, i'd say this is an excellent example of handling different points of view properly. It isn't just because the characters have major differences between them, it's about how the writing divides page time between all of them. Furthermore, there's an overarching story that all of their narratives play into even though individually they aren't aware of this. It's fun to see something like Jezal reacting to Bayaz, wondering why the Mage seems so interested in him, and right afterward you have Glokta looking into Bayaz to see if he is who he says he is. Things like that not only kept me interested, it built my interest in the story as it went on because I wanted to see which characters would end up interacting by the story's end.

Logen

Mercy, the man was like a child. A six and a half food child with a face like a butchers block
All of the characters are great and could have carried a story on their own, but i'd like to take a moment and say Logen was my favorite. There's something so tragic about this guy who has clearly lived a bloody life, references it often in almost everything he says or does, who does seem like he wants to change, but clearly can't change. A really interesting segment was when he first arrived in Adua, the nation's capitol. Having always lived in a completely different land that has a suitably different climate and landscape he reacts as you'd expect him to. He panics. He is lost in a crowd, finds it to be stifling hot, doesn't understand the way people react to him or how they treat one another. I'd say he was on the verge of passing out from a panic attack to be honest. He is a foreigner in a strange land and he reacts as such. It's a generally small moment in the entire book, but it's one of my favorites because it shows a level of thought that you don't see from every author. That's how a character like Logen should be reacting, but more often than not things like this aren't even touched upon. And when he's trapped by enemies at the end with no hope of escape, wounded and covered in blood, he finally loses it. The beast inside himself that he hid away the entire time finally comes out and you can see why his enemies who know him tried to get rid of him. You can see why he does want to move beyond that and why he is adamant that the world probably would have been better off without him. I'm repeating myself, but it's all done so well and I love it.

Conclusion

The blade itself incites to deeds of violence
I'm willing to say that if the next 2 books in this trilogy are written as well as this one i'd place the series on my list of favorites. There's so much i'm not mentioned, but I was very impressed and it was a pleasure to read. Sometimes when reading a book can feel like a chore, because you're not really enjoying it but you want to finish it. This is a case where I became a kid again, staying up later and later to read one more chapter, my mind constantly turning over the events of the book to wonder what would happen next. I was lost in this story and it was actually fun to read. Very violent, bloody, and sure to have a bittersweet ending when all is said and done (I have the feeling that both Logen and Collem will probably die), but absolutely fun. I suggest it to anyone who enjoys stories like Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire or books with multiple POV characters for you to follow.

Hi all, After reading a lot of post here recently, I kinda wanted to tell my story to give others perspective about treatment options. Obviously, this is MY story and everyone here is different. My experience will not be the same as yours, and I am not a doctor telling you to try these options. But I have had a lot done, and I think it might be helpful if people understand what they can try.
I appreciate everyone who reads even one section of this saga. I am happy to answer any questions that people might have. Again, this was my journey and these things might not be the best options for you. But I want to highlight that pain, itself, is not the disease. It is a symptom. Find doctors who will help you find the cause of it. Sometimes it's difficult to pinpoint the source of pain, but there are options to try different things.
Part 1: How it Started
In 2007 I was 17 years old. During the summer, I got a job working as a bus boy at a reception hall. One night, I was sweeping the floor, nothing different than normal, but I suddenly had intense shooting pain down my hip and leg just from the way I bent down to sweep. That was all it took to set me off on what would be a long life of pain.
I remember the sciatica being really bad during this period. My parents and I were taking care trips to look at colleges and sitting in a car was torture. At some point they told me to see a chiropractor so I started doing that on a pretty regular basis. I went to college in 2012 and continued to have pain. There was always constant pain but I would always have times when it was much worse and it was painful to even walk normally. I recall having my parents visit and I was limping all day because I couldn't extend my left leg out fully.
I continued to see a chiropractor in the area for maybe two or three of the years I was away at school. Chiropractor never really helped though. During one of the summer breaks, I went to a chiropractor who had this decompression machine that would literally strap you down and pull you apart in an attempt to relieve pressure. It never helped. I am pretty sure by this time I already had an MRI done that probably showed some level of lumbar herniation so I guess that is why I wanted to try that type of treatment.
Chiropractics is not a legitimate science. I hadn't realized this until later in college (I was a biomed major). Their theories on spinal health do not align with known medical science. Some chiropractor align more with real medical science, but a lot of them only believe what the area of chiropractics says. I strongly recommend NEVER seeing a chiropractor, especially if you have back pain. It could be dangerous.
Part 2: The First Surgery and More Treatments
So when I graduated from college in 2012, I sought out an orthopedic surgeon. We did more MRIs. I can't recall if we tried anything more conservative first, but I did end up having surgery with him in 2013. We did a microdiscectomy and hemilaminectomy on both L3-4 and L4-5. Recovery from this was about what you would expect. Lots of bed rest for maybe 6 weeks or so, but I recovered well and went to PT for a couple of months. I think the surgery was successful in treating a lot of the serious sciatica I was having. But I was still having some level of back pain months and months after. I was then seeing the pain management doctor at the same office as the surgeon, and we tried a LOT of different additional things. Facet joint injections specifically, trigger point injections, medications. Nothing ever helped. I still have this pain in my low back and it was difficult to bend over without bracing myself, and there were times when I would get sciatic pain but not nearly as bad as it was before the surgery.
At one point I went to a rheumatologist because the pain doctor did some blood work and found I was positive for a gene that is related to ankylosing spondylitis. I was never actually diagnosed with this, but we tried to medications (I think maybe methotrexate but I could be wrong). The rheumatologist ended up putting me on humira, which looking back was a odd decision without actually officially diagnosing me with anything. Humira is a monthly injection, and I think after two months, my pain actually got a lot worse, and I stopped taking it and never went back to him.
For the most part after this, I was just taking Tramadol an naproxen to deal with my pain. I was going to the gym and doing what I could, but often the gym would exacerbate my symptoms. It was just difficult to do anything without feeling weak and obviously, it definitely contributed to some depression.
Part 3: New Pain Doctors and Spinal Cord Stimulator
In 2016, I got a new job that brought me into NYC and I now had access to great insurance and a wide array of great doctors. I found a new pain management doctor and tried a lot of things with him. He put me on Nucynta at some point, which is a narcotic, though I would only take it when I had break through pain. Pretty quickly, only a couple months after in 2017, we decided to try a spinal cord stimulator since I had already tried all these other things with other doctors.
I had to see a neurologist who would be doing the actual implanting of the device. I also had to see a phsychiatrist to get I guess "mental" clearance that I was in sound mind to be making this decision about a medical device implant. Not sure if that was just for the insurance or something the doctors also require. Before doing a full implant, they actually do a test run. I guess I had gone under general anesthesia for this, but they implant the wires (explained more below) and the wires come out of my skin to an external device and all of that is taped down to my low back. They do this so that they can make sure you actually get relief from the device before all the time, energy, and money is spent doing the full implant. I had it for a couple weeks, and decided to move forward. They had to remove the wires from me and scheduled me for just a regular office visit, and I was thinking well how the heck are they removing these wires from me. Well, it was very easy. They literally just pulled the wires right out of my back. Didn't feel anything. It was wild.
I have a Nevro brand stimulator impanted inside me shortly after. Surgery and recovery were as you would expect. I don't thinm recovery was as long as my back surgery was. There is a little 1x1 inch square box that sits above my right glute, around where my waistband would sit. There are two sets of wires that run over my spine to the left side (so I can actually feel the wires right under my skin at this part) and then they go between my vertebral space and then all the way up my spinal canal to my thoracic area. At the end of the wires (aka "leads") there are several evenly spaced electrodes and these are the functional part of the device. From what I understand, they send small electrically pulses very rapidly against my spinal cord and the idea is that these electric signals will over power pain signals coming from below, effectively making my brain blind to sciatic pain. It came with a remote to change the settings and a charger that uses a wireless pad that you hold over the box to charge. I had to charge it ever two or three days. The technician from the company does the initial set up (they device doesn't operate until you are recovered from the procedure and see the technician at your next office visit, I believe). The technician will turn the device on wirelessly and play with the settings and ask you to tell them when you feel something as the increase the magnitude of the stimulation. When you feel it, it does feel like a little electric buzzing in your back. But you aren't supposed to feel it at all, so they the turn it down just below where you felt the sensation. The remote has a couple different programs that I could change through that the technician programs, I guess changes in the frequency of the pulsing or things like that. I could also increase and decrease the magnitude within a set range, but for the most part I never messed with any of the settings. Nevro has a care team that I can contact at any time with questions or concerns and they will follow up with me occasionally to see how I am doing.
Part 4: Life After the Stimulator
I always had the stimulator on, and always said that it did help alleviate the residual sciatic symptoms I had, but I still had this low back pain that wouldn't go away. I continued to see the pain management doctor and we tried so other things. More trigger point injections, medications, etc. He had me on what is called "Low dose naltrexone" which is essentially a very low dose of an existing drug, used off label for chronic pain. It had to be specially made at a compounding pharmacy because the dose you need isn't commercially available. I tried that for a couple months and can't say it helped. In fact, I think it made me very nauseous a lot of the time. I remember I had to stop drinking coffee at one point because the taste of it would make me feel queezy, and one or two times I ran to the bathroom because I felt like I was going to throw up. I decided to stop taking it.
After that, I mostly just lived with my stimulator and dealt with any pain I had (hadn't seen the doctor since 2020). I was going to the gym someone regularly at this point, but like before it would often increase my pain symptoms so I would need to take extended breaks from exercise.
Part 5: Recurrent Herniation
At the beginning of November 2023, I started to feel something new. I was starting to slowly get sciatic symptoms again and was having flashbacks of my symptoms when I was in college. I was starting to get sciatica in both legs, and my right foot would sometimes start going numb if I stood for too long. It was getting more and more severe. Within a few weeks, I had to stop commuting into work because the pain was getting so bad. I contacted my pain management doctor who I hadn't seen in years. Their office was telling me how since I hadn't been there in so long I had to be treated as a new patient and the first opening for a new patient was like 2 or 3 weeks out. I was pretty angry at them about this. I mean, this doctor did the implant of the medical device that I have...should that not exempt me from this rule? Its not like this was an appointment for an unrelated issue. Anyway, the first available appointment was with a different doctor, but I was desperate so I saw him. He was not helpful. I was basically begging for pain meds and he was like welllll the other doctor should really prescribe you something because he knows your case better. It was such a a waste of time.
About a week or two later I did in fact see my original doctor, and he had the Nevro technician come because he thought it could potentially be an issue with the device. The technician found that there was "impedence" on one of the leads, a couple of the electrodes weren't working as they should. So she did some adjustments to compensate for that. I have it a week or so, but that did not fix the problem at all. I stopped charging the stimulator altogether because it wasn't doing anything for me. I had to start using a cane to get around because if I was standing, I needed something to lean on so I didn't have to keep my back straight. It was getting very difficult.
The doctor had me get a regular CT done, because I cannot get an MRI due to the stimulator (the stimulator itself is actually MRI safe and I think most of them are not, but because of the issue with the electrodes, my Nevro care team told me I could not get an MRI). So I and the CT and I could see it myself. It was absolutely clear that there was a herniation at L4-L5. Clear as day. So I had a video call with the doctors assistance soon after and to my dismay, they suggested treatment was to get an epidural to reduce the pain. Here I am, knowing full well that my symptoms and the results of the MRI are definitely worthy of surgery, and they want to give me just an epidural. I asked her about surgery and she said something about not opting for surgery until exhausting other options. I said okay. After the call, I immediately reached out to my friend who worked at the Hospital for Special Surgery in NYC. She actually works with the director of Spinal Surgery. Immediately, I was in contact with him and his entire team and they moved quickly to get things moving. I regret not having reached out sooner.
Part 6: Prep for Second Surgery
So the first thing to do was get better imagining. Since the MRI was out of the question, I had to do something called a CT Myelogram. Oh boy this was not a fun diagnostic procedure.
You need to be accompanied to the appointment because they will be giving you some very light sedative. You are hooked up to an IV, and they bring you into a room with a special x-ray table that rotates so you can be either laying flat or raised up so you are nearly standing, and the X-rays can be taken from many different angles. The doctor there take a couple of initial scans to find the location where they go in. I am queezy just talking about it right now. What they need to do is inject contrast dye right into my spinal canal. An epidural goes AROUND your spinal canal, but for this they need to pierce the dura and go in.
So they do local anesthesia and then take quite a large needle and go in. It is painful because it is going so deep. But God, you can feel the piecing of the dura layer when the needle goes through. I immediately feel my body hating it. Then they inject the dye, and you can feel that sort of cold sensation spreading across your back. And then he takes the needle out. I start to get VERY hot and am about to pass out, so they put some ice on the bacm of my neck and give me a minute to come back down. They also gave me some IV zofran to help with nausea and some IV sedative for the pain Thankfully it passed. But that wasnt even the difficult part.
Next, they have to make sure the dye gets into all the crevices. So the doctor rotates the table to different angles and has you try and bend in specific ways. It was incredibly painful to do. When he had me in an almost standing position, and the pressure of the dye was increasing my leg pain beyond anything I had experienced so far. It was really difficult. But once they are satisfied with the X-ray that shows the dye has spread well, they send you to the CT scan. Once I was laying down again the pain subsided and I was feeling better. They did the CT scan and then rolled me back to the recovery room, and by the time I was back in there I was feels 100% back to normal and had no issues getting up and walking. So that was that.
The image results were very telling (gunna try and include them here or in a comment if I can). The point of this type of imaging is that the contract dye with spread anywhere that the CSF can go. You should be able to clearly see the space all around the spinal cord, and if there are spots where you don't see the dye, you will be able to see what is causing some problems. It was plain to see how severe this herniation was. It was compressing my spinal cord and pushing it all the way to the back of the spinal column.
So the doctor said we have two options. A microdiscectomy or a fusion. We decided to do a MD though I would be okay with a fusion. Well guess what, two days before the surgery the doctor changed his mind and said that after reviewing the imaging again the best course of action would be to do a fusion. I was very excited for that.
Part 7: The Fusion
So at the end of Feb 2024 I had my fusion done. It was your standard surgery, nothing too crazy. Recovery was tough though. Basically with a fusion, they take out the herniation and most of the disc and they put this rubbery block in there that contains bone graft. That is what is going to grow to fuse the two vertebrae, but that process can take a year to fully fuse the bones. So they put in four screws, two in each vertebrae, and join them together with rods. This holds the bones together completely so that they do not move independently. They are essentially fused at this point, but only with the rods.
For recovery, the first couple days were difficult, mostly trying to stand up from laying down because I had like no low back strength. The pain was also pretty constant so I was taking a lot of muscle relaxers and narcotics to help me stay asleep as much as possible.
The surgery area was quiet large. There were two large bandages and two small bandages and the entire area was covered in a large adhesive patch to keep everything clean and dry (it was also very orange from the iodine). So I could shower without worrying about it. Within two weeks I was moving around a lot better. I might have stopped using my cane at this point, though anything that required me to reach forward, like washing my hands at the sink, was difficult because it would require back strength. By 2 weeks, the bandage had because really really frustrating. The huge adhesive patch was causing my skin to become itchy and irritated, and I could see they I was starting to develop some red bumps like pimples underneath. Thankfully 2 weeks was the point I could remove it (after my first follow up call with the doctors team). So I took it off which was not easy. The whole area was soooo sticky, I tried to remove a lot of the stickiness with either rubbing alcohol, soap, or Vaseline. I was able to get a lot of it off but some stickiness still lasted for several days. There will tiny bandages over the incision sites that covered the stitches and those would eventually all fall off themselves. I had two larger scars at the top where they did most of the work of cutting out the disc and putting in the graft, and then two tiny scars lower down where I assume they put in the screws for the lower vertabrae. My back does not look pretty.
I started PT at four weeks was doing better but still had a weak back and was very cautious with my movements. Did PT for 12 weeks and made a lot of improvement. I was back to how I was. The fusion 100% fix the issues that this new herniation had caused, and it was such a relief to finally have a procedure that was totally effective. However, the back pain that I had already had for many many years was and is still there and I am still not certain what is causing it.
Part 8: Now
I am about 20 weeks out of surgery and am still doing great. I still do not use my stimulator and don't plan to, but having to get it removed would be a really huge pain. I have started to actually go to a gym again and life weights to stay active. I am mostly convinced that this low back pain I still have is really muscle related, caused by the years of instability, and that I can address it by strengthly my core muscles and following my PT exercises. I think a lot of these muscles issues, like trigger points, can mimic sciatic symptoms. Knowing what REAL sciatic symptoms feel like again, this pain doesn't feel like I have a herniation pushing on my nerves. So I am going forward with that in mind and trying to deal with this pain muscularly.
As for the fusion, I don't notice any new limitations in my movement. I avoid rubbing the area because I could feel the rods if I rub it hard enough. But I feel normal. I had a follow up with the doctor with another X-ray and everything looks great. I am hoping that this can be a turning point for me to really live as close to a pain free life as possible.

So Harley was sick a few weeks ago, with a head tilt and virtigo, she didn't have energy and wasn't drinking or eating much... She took a course of antibiotics and anti inflammatory medication and now she is back to her normal self, the head tilt is almost completely gone but I think she may be slightly disabled, she's able to climb like normal now but still a bit off balance. I've had safe climbing facilities in her small cage for her to rehabilitate on, which she has done well, she's back in the large cage which has been adapted to her needs, so I halved it so that she can't fall far but it's still big and she's in with Cookie and Belle... Cookie was very pleased to see her again.
Now the other problem that has come up is that Ginger, who had been losing weight for no apparent reason has suddenly gone downhill fast. She's found it painful to eat, seeming in pain after eating and finding it hard to swallow... She has been breathing heavy, crusting on her eyes and nose but no signs of rattling or wheezing... Her body is very boney but she has a large belly still... She collapsed last night and has no strength to climb anymore.. her poo has been jet black and like poo shaped tar... Her eyes look a bit like they are dark blood red inside... I have an appointment for her tomorrow if she makes it... She isn't eating or drinking anymore, not pooping and not peeing, she is not allowing anyone near her, she wants to be alone it seems :o/ I think she is definitely dying and this will probably be the end for her during the vets appointment sadly... Her tale is grey and cold, some fur is quite thin around her neck now too... How fast rats can go downhill is shocking... I wish I could make her feel better and keep going.

I put a dental floss that had been in my car jet washer in my mouth accidentally , now have metallic taste in mouth and burning sensation
Cleaning out car jet washers (theyrr the small things on your car hood which spray the water out onto the windscreen )with a dental floss. So used to flossing my teeth and chewing on random dental floss I leave about I realised I had it in my mouth. I was initially concerned about stuff like dirt and then I realised car wiper fluid is toxic. I washed my mouth out briefly and then used mouth wash and went to the ER. Blood results clear but still have a metallic ish taste in my mouth and habe burning sensations. The incident happened at like 1pm Friday , and I left the ER at like 7pm that day. The sensations aren't constant, they come and go. Mouthwash seems to aggravate it. I do have anxiety so could be that but ive never had this before. Googling symptoms makes me more worried about stuff like nerve damage or heavy metals poisoning

Sangar rose shivering in the cave. Cold sweat had pooled around his eyes. He took his fingers out of his mouth. Vomit clung to his forearm and on the ground he had been lying for longer than he'd care to know. He remembered his name. He remembered the fight in the ruins. He remembered the refugees coming to the aftermath offering aid. Offering them relief from the despair and wounds. Offering them a drink that would stop them feeling. How they gulped down the broth from their ladles. And then nothing. The cave paintings were complex patterns just like that in the Planetarium. But his eyes did not linger on the art long.
Their captors were hunched over the embers of a fire. They ate with open mouths. The rude mastication echoed in the dark, sucking and cracking bones now, their shadows ugly on the wall against the glow of dying ash.
The well worn clothes of their meal were in a uncaring pile beside them surrounded by wet butchers knives.
The sedative worked hard on him, pulling him away into a chamber far away from his battered body. He bit his cheek, tasting blood, focusing on the pain. Pain was good, pain was better than nothing.
His vision turned spotty again as he stood upright. HIs body shook against his will. His ears rung in a high pitch. Don't fall, don't fall. He couldn't see a thing now. He blinked over and over.
He saw his mother, his father above him, humming, pressing him between their chests in the dark. Were they crying too? He felt soft kisses on his newborn head. They danced slow side to side, in words that he had heard before but couldn't remember. Then the dark turned into that changing blue that comes just before the sun. This was not a hallucination, it was a memory. He came from the other place into this one cared for. He mattered to two people at sometime. He mattered a lot it would seem What did that mean. It seemed to mean everything. It was an alien thought
He gasped 'I was loved'
They were alien words said out loud.
His vision cleared. It was an alien sight.
The captors turned sharply at his words. Crimson mouths open, hands full with spilling grub, eyes shocked.
'Its the big one!'
A couple scrambled for their tools. Another hissed 'find more red holly for big one we got the dose wrong.
Sangar bounced on his calves. Memories of beauty bled into training. When you throw a punch you aim an elbows length behind a head, you go through the head.
'We dosed him with enough to comatose a horse!'
They came at him with knives, their meal splattered across the dusty floor.
'I was loved' Sangar bent to pick up a rock, near the size of his fist. He memorised the weight lobbing it from one hand to the other. Footsteps rushed to him. He locked eyes.
The cave echoed with grunts of the damned, and primordial thuds.
I was loved. He never thought he could learn so much in one day. To learn too now too that cannibals scream like cowards when thrown off a cliff. He basked in the knowledge that he was hugged as a baby. In sick meagre relief he felt good not knowing the man who had been eaten. They had left his fearful face aside from his cheeks and eyes which had been scraped out crudely and his scalp which had been peeled half way back to hang, folded unto itself. He found himself hoping suddenly that this young soul too was loved sometime in this broken place. He found his bark blade and then he went to wake the rest. The day had just begun.