Quotes about daughter going to college

So i dont wanna make this super long because people loose interest even tho this could be a plos to an old jerry springer post (RIP) Normally id change their name Kaygan my son was known as Buck but im telling all facts and his story. So Kaygan will be graduating highschool tomorrow which is prolly why im in his feelings but i will start with the basics. I cant have kids i excepted that many years ago and am fine with that i have tons of Godbabies and neices and nephew in my eyes. So when Crystal Kaygans mother was 3 months pregnant with kaygan i met his father him and crystal seperated.basically cauas she was basically nuts. Anyways me and Calvin started basically casually dated nothing serious. Anyways kaygan was born out of respect i didnt go hospital. But since then until today theres not a sibgle memory in that childs mind im not in. So lets skip to when he was turning 5 and i mentioned tobcrystal her daughter who was about to be 3 could come with us next time we doing something because she had a deadbeat she disnt really even know. Crystal called asking us to keep them longer she was going thru a divorce. Well ofcourse. We didn't hear from her for 3 months cause her soon to be ex shut her phone off. At that point miss piper was now part of pur family. Imma stop here cause im falling asleep but trust me this is just the back story burning theorbstuff and threating their livves... Part 2 coming soon plus i will fix tyos in my sleepy state.

its important to note that i have very little knowledge about the subject since i dont have someone to ask in real life.
Am about to go to college and i chose mechatronics but i have three options and i dont know what to choose, either i study in turkey or save up one year so i study to germany or save up 2-3 years to study in the us
i've been hearing a lot of ppl saying that college degrees are not as relevant as it used to be unless you're studying medicince/law, but on the otherside why not study in a better college so i get a better education? But at the same time i could improve my skills through self learning and experience.
My question is : is studying in a better college worth waiting 1-3 years? Or should i just go to an affordable college?

Hey guys, Emmanuel Sunday here and I would just like to drop a quick one.
Niching down is a pretty familiar term to most people, especially in the online space. If you were getting out of college you get told to niche down and be an expert at one thing (I feel this as a computer science student)
Starting a business? Niche down is the word.
Ecommerce site? Niche down.
But in reality, not many people practice this, or at least in the best way.
You see, I come from an SEO background where we’re very good at finding gaps between contents on the internet.
At one time, all I did was wake up in the morning, pick up my laptop, and browse through Semrush, looking for underserved niches.
And no, we aren’t looking to take “health,” “education,” and “tech” as a niche found.
Nope, we don’t want to be hitting a nail on a coffee.
You know why?
Fighting the big boys, sites like Forbes, Inc. or Vanguard is something that requires time and a huge amount of money, if ever possible.
A good exception, of course, is if you have something unique to offer. A different perspective. That works.
Google was not the first search engine, but had something different to offer. They knew their game.
Substack is apparently not the first email marketing platform but has managed to create a sector for itself. They did something different.
For us, however, there are already a lot of opportunities these big boys won’t belittle themselves to take, that we can easily settle for.
This is where we come in, we take this opportunity to build sites around these niches.
Rather than go into tech in general we go into troubleshooting a particular set of devices.
Rather than struggle to be the new Facebook, we become LinkedIn (a new expert at a certain niche topic).
Rather than become the new Photoshop, we become the AI resource for removing objects and text from images.
Rather than subscribing to the general Marketing Pros, you subscribe to an SEO newsletter.
The platforms that have seen success doing this are countless!
The good part about this strategy is how seamlessly you could grow from a niche expert into a domain expert (established in a bigger field)!
Reinventing the wheel isn’t par se. But are you reinventing from a different perspective? That’s what makes the difference.
Hey, till we meet again!

Here is one for you all and its a long one. 44M here, been with my significant other for ~20 years, married for 11 years. At this point I don't feel like we are going to make it much longer. I don't think she wants to be with me anymore but needs me for financial support so she is trying to string me along.
Background:
I want to say right off that I know I am not perfect, have never pretended to be nor have I overlooked my shortcomings and have done everything I can to address and deal with my issues.At first things were good. We did things together, went out, hung out with friends together, bowled leagues together, had a lot of fun. We also had a good, sex life. We were having cuddling times, regular sex, great foreplay, she was pretty open to positions and trying things.
When we first got together she was working miscellaneous retail jobs. She had a 4 year college degree at this point as well but never even tried to find a job utilizing it. I was fine with her working whatever made her happy. I work in IT/Tech. I have always been the higher earner, making almost double her salary up until a couple years ago. I never once said anything about this, never gave her crap for making less or the job she worked. I only encouraged her to find a job she enjoyed. I went years, never saying anything that might hurt her, even when I was working 50-60+ hours of work in a tough field at a job I hated while she worked maybe 20-30 hours a week in a super easy job of her choosing. After about 10 years of us being together she finally decided to go back to school for computer science. To support her doing this we lived in a couple places and worked jobs I absolutely hated to make sure she could finish school without any pressure. Again, I never said anything to her about this, I did it so she could be happy. She ended up finishing and getting an extremely good paying tech job after a few years, around the time that I noticed the biggest changes about her. Prior to her latest job and changes, we were OK for a few years. We starting doing well together as we were both earning well and have no kids.
Start of problems:
After we were married for a few years she started changing. She stopped wanting to do things together, we went out less and less. Stopped watching shows and movies together, stopped gaming together. She started treating sex like a burden, made me feel bad for even trying to initiate it. She became more of a prude, stopped wanting to do almost anything sexual, stopped wanting cuddling/petting, lost almost all interest in foreplay that wasn't directly for her, she lost all interest in any type of intimacy, cuddling, foreplay, or really anything that isn't about her getting off.
I feel that I have been extremely patient over the years about all of this. She has some back issues (self inflicted, she was having soreness and pain but continued a workout regimen that was obviously not right and causing issues. I have tried to be understanding and accommodating since she had these issues. Sex was never really a big issue, even with the back problems we had a decent sex life until the last 5 or so years. She started wanting to do less and it really felt like she was just trying to get it over with (outside of when I was pleasuring her and getting her off. Once that was done it was like hurry up and finish.
More recently, last couple of years she has had 0 interest in sex or even anything physical. I mean I can barely kiss her, cant touch her at all without some excuse that it tickles or some other BS. No cuddling as she says I always pressure for sex, BS, I love foreplay and am happy with mutual getting off. I have mentioned the lack of intimacy, mentioning that is had been months since we did anything and it is always some excuse or a suggestion it may happen this weekend (going on 20+ " this weekend" without anything) . She has almost every excuse in the book as to why she doesn't want to without really having a good reason. She will blame her back bugging her but will then do a lot of work that is physically punishing, especially to someone with back issues and despite the fact that I said I would do it or try to help. I have also gotten several different things to help, wedge pillow to help with her back, tried it once and had some random complaint that I forget. She had mentioned trying a swing so she could have support in different positions. I found several options and she then made excuses about all of them, the primary one being support for the swing. I eventually called her on this being BS when the new house we got had a chain mount in one of the bedrooms ( looked like it was possibly for a heavy punching bag) that would be perfect for a swing and I tested it holding my full weight. I again mentioned getting a swing to make things better to only get additional excuses.
Further Issues:
We had always talked about wanting to move back to California and get a house there when we had the chance. We had also talked about houses we would like and things like that. When we started seriously talking about getting a house, she said she would check with work ahead of time about being able to move to another state as we had discussed, she did not. I don't think she even talked to her boss about it. She just refused to move outside of this state as she said her job required her to be her even though her boss lives in a completely different country.
When the time actually came to find and buy a house it did not work out the way I guess I had expected. Eventually, we purchased a house here after several fights as she decided she wanted a cheaper house to fix up. Not even considering the amount of work and money it would take to do so. One of her "options" was a run down ranch house that had a surprise renter (9 months left on a lease) in a very obviously water damaged basement. She picked out this house so she continued to try to justify buying it for about 100k over what it should be sold for. After about a week of looking at shitty houses and fighting she finally agreed to look at one of the houses I had chosen, the house we eventually purchased. It was a bit more but had almost all of our wants without the need to fix it up.
For the purchase, she provided the down payment from her inheritance and jointly financed the house. Once the purchase was finished and we moved in she changed, a lot. Things became more about what she wanted, she would mention things to me but completely ignore any input and just talk like what she wanted is what I chose too. Her dad then decided to visit and this was the largest wake up call I think I have had. I saw him doing all of the things that she does that annoy and frustrate me. I then realized that if I stay with her, dealing with this is my future. He took over the house and she treated me like an asshole for just wanting a bit of space that I could have to myself. She refused to deal with him or reign in his behavior. I think it was around this time that I realized that it felt like I didn't even have a home even though we just bought one, that I was just a wallet to help pay bills.
We ended up having a fight about this and I ended up leaving and staying at a hotel for a few days. This is where it got really eye opening as I considered this fight as something we would think about and get over. However, the first thing she did was talk to her friend and then reach out to divorce lawyers. She mentioned that she was talking to them about post nuptials to make sure she got the house and money. This was a signal to me, that she did not consider nor seem to appreciate all of the years that I spent working jobs I hated to supplement our income and cover for her while she went back to school. All it seemed she saw was that she got money now so the house and all of it was hers. She made a comment about how she felt the money, stocks, and house were hers. She added that she wanted a post nuptial to define this so I shouldn't be surprised if I get one to sign. Unsurprisingly, she never actually got this done, never mentioned it more so I am assuming she just got lazy and never followed up. One thing that stood out to me was that she mentioned that she could not afford the house by herself. She rambled off several things about us just being roommates and me continuing to pay for the house and bills. She came up with something about me paying and her giving me money back later or something, I ignored most of it as it was dumb, I.E. me leaving my checks going into our shared account and continuing to pay like I have been but doing so knowing she plans on keeping the house and that I might get some money later if she ever sold it. She also made a comment that I did a good job with the stocks so I should keep doing that for her and she would give me like a 1k in a few years. Since I started working with the portfolio and diversified the stocks I have made over 40k in gains for it so yeah I ignored this as I felt like it was insulting. This whole fight and conversation hit me hard, especially after 15+ years of me working hard, shitty jobs, to provide for us just to get slapped in the face by greed.
We ended up talking a bit after that fight after I ended up stopping by the house. She had mentioned previously about going to marriage counseling. I told her I didn't think it would help with our situation considering what the issues were but if she was willing to go and actually participate, I would be too. We ended up seeing a marriage counselor as she had suggested it previously and I wanted to try everything to make this work. I had previously mentioned that I didn't think it would work as she refuses to open up or discuss her issues with anyone and if she wont do that, it is a moot point. She said she would so we found a counselor and we went for a couple of months. During this time I was very open about my thoughts and feelings and gave the counselor details on my issues. She however, did not provide anything ahead of time, participate much, would not open up, and eventually said that we might as well not go as she didn't feel like we were gaining anything.
Turning Point:
I think the f*ck it point, straw that broke the camels back for me is that about a month ago, around 10 months or so since we had any kind of intimacy we had a fight. During the fight she admitted that she actually masturbates fairly regularly which really, really pissed me off as she knows the lack of sex and any kinds of intimacy was a big issue for me and was causing a lot of frustration. I was quiet about it as what I would have said would have started a big fight. I am now struggling because I cant really get over the fact that she shows me no interest, wont let me touch her, we haven't had sex in months and she admits to masturbating instead of having sex with me when she knows I am extremely sexually frustrated. To me, this shows her lack of caring about me and shows that she only really cares about herself and what she wants. This is furthered by conversations with her family I have overheard because she talks super loud on the phone and I guess she didn't realize I could hear her in the other room. This last conversation was essentially her talking about the money again and additional money she may get when her dad passes. She made the comment to them that in hindsight she would have made me sign a prenup as all of the money she has gotten and will get belongs to their family and she wants to keep it in their family. This was another moment when I was like what the hell, I am not your family?
I am torn, I have been with her for a long time, I do care for her, but she shows no interest in being with me. No interest in a relationship, doesn't want to do things together (she even said that if I want her do more things with me I have to do things she wants to do first), nothing for how I feel, what I want, no cuddling, no touching, nothing. It came down to the fact that she essentially wants a roommate that pays for her to have the house, help with chores, and helps take care of the dogs without expecting anything in return. She does not seem to get how she is, care how I feel, what I want, or really care about anything that does not benefit her.
I am at my breaking point, I have tried for years to give her everything and now as thanks, I get nothing from her. I am getting to old to keep wasting time in a loveless, sexless relationship but am also having a hard time walking away from a relationship I have been in for so long. After writing this out I am also realizing, well more wondering, what the f*ck I am doing as it seems pretty obvious I am bailing water out of a sinking boat.

Located in CA
I took my 9 yr old lab Ivy to the vet for an emergency visit in the beginning of March. Our regular vet couldn’t take her so we had to go to the 24/7 animal hospital. They are excellent and I was willing to pay for whatever they needed to do to help ivy.
She had been very obviously sick and in pain, puking, diarrhea, not wanting to eat. They did an ultrasound, blood panel, urinalysis, fluids, meds. They found elevated liver enzymes and ketones in her urine. She was so sick they wanted to hospitalize her overnight. I asked what they would be doing and they said monitoring. I asked if I could just monitor her myself at home and bring her back right away if she gets worse? They gave me a couple prescriptions and sent us home. -$1729
I didn’t realize until the next day they didn’t give us any pain meds or anything to help Ivy’s eating (I’d tried seriously all the bland diet options, she didn’t want any of it) I went back to get her pain meds and prescription food, and the girl says they forgot to charge me for something else so she added that on too. -$150
Ivy was getting better slowly but still not her normal happy self at all. Sad, droopy eyes, wanting to sit curled up in my lap like a baby 😭 I kept doing everything they said and I took her back about a month later to check her levels again. We saw the vet, then went back out to the busy lobby to wait until someone came out to tell me the results or medications or whatever. So I sat in the lobby and waited, I asked a few times for updates bc I needed to get back to work. After 3 hours I asked if they could check and see what was going on.
There was another dog named Ivy there that morning and the receptionist closed out MY Ivy’s account (and charged the other lady’s card -$566 of my charges). I was annoyed and paid my bill (non-itemized invoice bc she couldn’t find mine) and Ivy and I went straight to work. Ivy is my service dog and sleeps under my desk.
They said the liver enzymes and urine ketone levels were both back to a normal level which was great news. They still couldn’t really give me a clear answer as to what could’ve caused all of this, sometimes they eat things, or just get sick, whatever. She said a slow recovery was normal bc livepancreas stuff is unpredictable, painful, and can take a while to heal.
The hospital’s office called me the next day to apologize for making me wait so long and reimbursed $316 (the liver panel, I think, I don’t have an itemized invoice). They offered this without me asking which I really appreciated.
Ivy has still been sick, but definitely better than when I first took her in. She was still acting sad, no interest in her favorite things. I knew she was in pain and brought her to a different vet last week.
Dr.S had been Ivy’s vet most of her life at our regular vet’s office - we love him. He left and started his own practice,and I just found his new location is 15 minutes away from my house!! It was kind of secretive when he left the other place, I think out of respect for the owners and not take half the clients with him. Anyway, I was really happy to find him again, I fully trust him. He was Ivy’s vet at her 8-week old visit, did her spay, all of it. Ivy is scared of men she doesn’t know and she loves Dr. S.
He took a look in her mouth and was like Whoa! Found it! He saw one badly rotten and cracked tooth in the back and wanted to get scheduled for removal right away. I bought the senior wellness plan for -$998. I was quoted $1200-1600 for surgery. (He was also going to remove a large benign mass from her side since she’d be under anesthesia already, I’d been wanting to do this for a few years so this is something I wanted him to do also)
This Tuesday was surgery day. He ended up removing 3 teeth, a molar on each side, and a front tooth that was cracked and broken off (I knew about this, I’d been told it wasn’t anything to be concerned about).
He said one of the molars and the front tooth both had exposed roots, the back one had an abscess and the root was touching the bone. He asked if I wanted the pictures bc it was really interesting and you don’t usually see it so advanced 😞 He said this is definitely what has been hurting her and making it hard to eat. He said they must have not looked in Ivy's mouth at all if they didn’t notice it- twice??
He didn’t have enough time to remove the mass. He said he wasn’t comfortable keeping her under any longer due to her age and blood pressure levels. Unless it grows rapidly we’re leaving it for now.
-$350 for everything this day, including surgery time & anesthesia, full dental cleaning & sealant,office visit, sedated nail trim, medications, canned soft food, heart worm testing, some other stuff included with the senior wellness package.
It’s been two days since she got her teeth out and she’s already smiling again. She was jumping around and trying to play with her brother (cat) and she only does that when she’s really excited!! Ivy is the best dog I could ever ask for. Seeing her in pain has been so hard, because I couldn’t help her!! I was trying everything but it wasn’t working. I’m so glad we found it and I think she will be able to get better now. I wasn’t so sure for awhile there.
I called the hospital place and told them what I found out and asked what happened. How could they have missed this- TWICE? The girl was really nice and agreed this was a “very valid concern” and asked me to explain everything to her and she would talk to the medical director, try to get some answers for me, and get back to me. She asked what I wanted the resolution to be. I said I thought it would be appropriate to ask for all of my charges to be refunded in relation to this event over the past couple months including Dr. S’s charges.
She called me back when I was at dinner so I missed her call.
Is this right? I don’t know what I’m looking for, feedback, reassurance, guidance? This is malpractice, right??
I talked to Dr.S’s receptionist today, she’s going to send me the photos and a breakdown of charges between the wellness plan and what I had done, try to make sense of what would be appropriate to ask them to refund. I kinda also want to ask them for $200 flat to reimburse the food/groceries spent trying to get her to eat, literally anything I could try on her bland diet, I tried! I don’t have receipts but I know I spent a shit ton of money as Ivy’s short order cook the last couple months. (Today she scarfed down her regular food for the first time in forever, I cried). Is this pushing it too far? Should I just take whatever they offer me?
What about the fact Ivy spent 2 1/2 months in pain & suffering from the time I brought her in to the day Dr. S did her surgery? She has lost weight, and has been pretty obviously miserable the whole time.
Thanks for reading.

I will start my college classes in June 5th (less than 3 weeks) and I’m feeling so nervous. First I wanted to go with online classes but then I decided to take them in person and I’m already freaking out. I haven’t gone to school ever since covid happened (after that 2020 spring break), so it has been more than 4 years. I do feel confident that I will do good in my classes but everything else makes me so anxious (being around so many people, having to socialize, etc). Any advice?

Hi all, I am an LPR and filed a standalone I-130 for consular processing for my daughter on July 5, 2022. This is F2A (she was 16 at the time and is 18 now). At the time the F2A category was current amd we expected it all to be a quick thing from some other people's experience (a year or so). However in what I now realise was a grave mistake, when I filed it I put overseas address for both me and her (in the UK). I have a re-entry permit. I assume it is because of that my application was assigned to NBC. It appears to have a 5-year wait for standalone i-130s with overseas based sponsors. The application has been saying "actively reviewed" since 2022 and has not moved since. USCIS raised inquiry last winter returned that it was within processing times (which it was for NBC). I did not see too mich harm because daughter is going to uni in England now, and she has been able to visit the US under EsTA in the meantime with no issues. But I have moved. I hve returned to the US and was working there, and got a house, so I went and changed the address on the file to the stateside address. Which was in California. I saw somewhere that it is possible to have a case transferred to a regional office out of NBC if sponsor moves. Presumably also if sponsor moves stateside. Is it? So far it has not moved on its own, but F2A which has retrogressed in the meantime is picking up again on the visa bulletin, so now I am actively thinking about it. Is there anything I can do to move out of NBC to whatever region is responsible for California? Or will it be a fool's errand? I plan to relocate to Florida in October (I know!). Will it make sense to pick up this effort then because presumably they are less busy? Is there anything else I can do? Thanks.

earlier this year, my ex (21M) dumped me (23F) after feeling conflicted about everything in his life. he was finishing up his senior year of college and it wasn’t going well. he started having some sort of existential crisis and didn’t know what he wanted to do in life. he had no motivation to be a doctor anymore, no motivation to try in school, and started falling out of love with me.
when he admitted to falling out of love with me, it came to me as a shock since it was very very sudden. i was devastated. we agreed to give each other space and stopped sleeping in the same bed. i decided to go stay at my parents house and that’s when he dumped me over text. i immediately called my best friend and she told me that she never really liked him that much. she also told me some of my other friends didn’t like him very much because of the way he sounded (he comes off as very strong and expressive, my friends are more reserved) and how opinionated he was (he was extremely passionate about the stuff he liked to the point where some people thought he was angry). despite me being angry at him, i felt bad for him. i won’t go into detail, but a lot of his personality traits stem from growing up in a loud toxic household in which he had no voice. he struggles with frequent manic and depressive episodes and i was always there to help him, i didn’t want him to feel like he was a monster because of his mental health. he was aware of my efforts and was appreciative towards me.
after about 2 weeks of being at my parents place, i go back home to my apartment that both him and i live in. he wasn’t at home at all and didn’t know where he was. long story short, he was staying at another girl’s house. i always had a weird feeling about her and how close they were, but i didn’t want to jump to conclusions. basically, i found out he developed feelings for her while we were together and was essentially having an emotional affair towards the end of my relationship with him. i was absolutely furious finding this out and blocked both of them on social media. i didn’t block his number since i still had to communicate with him for bills and such, but because of this, it led to several arguments between him and i. the arguments mainly consisted of me asking why he would do this, why he threw away two years, etc. i knew he was going through a manic episode, so i couldn’t do anything about it. i just had to watch him self sabotage. he kept telling me that he wants to explore other possibilities in life and doesn’t want to lose his independence, etc. after a lot of arguments throughout several days, i just accepted that things were over.
a couple of weeks go by, i was out of town with a friend and i get a text from him asking if we could talk. i was hesitant since i felt angry at him for basically leaving me for another girl and staying at her house, but i told him that i will speak to him later. i didn’t know what he wanted. i get home and he seemed like he was back to his old self in a way, he didn’t seem tense. he ends up apologizing over everything and tells me that he made the biggest mistake of his life and doesn’t want to lose me ever again. he explained how he couldn’t sleep at all while he was gone and kept thinking about how he destroyed his healthiest relationship he’s ever had. i was very hesitant, but i decided to take him back and take things slow. i told him that i want to work on rebuilding the trust we had again and continue to work on ourselves individually. he agreed and things are fine, he cut off the other girl, graduated, and is enjoying his post grad life.
here’s my issue, before all of this happened, we had so many great connections with our mutual friends and such. but after everyone found out what he did, his friends cut him off, my friends cut him off, everyone cut him off and expresses deep hatred towards him for hurting me the way he did. everyone essentially witnessed me crying and throwing up over him, so they want nothing to do with him. i feel embarrassed knowing that i told my friends that i wouldn’t go back to him, yet i still did. they told me they will support my decisions, but they still don’t know how to feel about him. my family basically hates him too. i feel sad knowing that all my friends hate my boyfriend, but it’s for valid reasons. im afraid that they’ll continue to hate him forever. im sorry if i sound stupid or naive, this is the first relationship i’ve been in where i’ve felt actually in love. i don’t know what to do. i want to stay with him, but the thought of my friends and family hating him forever keeps eating at me. how do i process all of this? i don’t know how to feel.

recently, i had a conversation with my mom detailing what i wanted to be when i was older. ever since i was a child, i loved singing and dancing. not like i was humming in the womb, but singing was a great past time for me.
when i moved to london in 2022, i, according to my mom, fell in love with the idea of becoming a musician. for some reason, my childhood is overly blurry, but she told me back then i wasn't interested, and i was sorta confused because i'm sure i was. she said the idea of becoming a musician and singing and everything was not on my to-do list. it was weird because i don't recall ever telling her a career i wanted to look into back then. i think i assumed she knew i wanted to become a singer, but she didn't know? idk its confusing lol.
so anyways, after that i tried to occasionally sing and practice my voice. note: occasionally. i would, according to my entire family, sing for a few moments and stop singing (MOMENTS??) clear my throat, do that again, get mad and say "I'm never singing again." (which is obviously a lie.) for some reason, i was dead-set that i wanted to become a musician, but i also didn't put in the effort to becoming a singer.
now, even i know this, but i tend to pick-up and drop things easily, so i never really stuck to one thing. the reason is most likely because my parents were movers. even when we lived in dubai, we never stayed in one place. changing schools and houses more times than i can count. i think having this sort of lifestyle of not having to stick to one thing is affecting me as a person also. but thats a story for another day;
my point is that singing is one of the things that i picked up but i can't seem to drop. i think as i kept going and watching these people perform at concerts, work in studios, all of that it makes me want to become a musician even more! i tried my hand in acting at one point but that totally backfired. so its just on singing again. in fact, i tried so many things and i decided i was good at nothing so singing was my only option.
now, don't get me wrong my family is well off, so i can afford school, college, university and the works, but i still feel like i'm not good at anything besides singing. im going to grade 12 next (school) year, so i don't have lots of time to think about this, yet i feel like everything will just work itself out.
now, to my actual question; do i like singing, or do i hate it? and if i hate singing, why do i hate it?
so, my first reason that comes to mind on why i hate singing is my voice. now, i've had no shortage of compliments from my family telling me i'm a great singer. (well, maybe a little shortage. and my dad has never told me i'm a great singer. apparently i've never sung in front of him before.) but, also from strangers. before the winter holidays in 2022, my school held a winter concert and i had a solo in there. my music teacher who's also the choir teacher, gave me the solo, telling me i had a great voice and potential. the day came and i felt i completely blew it, but people were pulling me left, right and center to tell me i had a lovely voice. might've been just curtesy, but it was very sweet of them.
so i have no genuine idea why i hate my voice, but it just feels so flat and bad. i can't hold a note more than 4 seconds, my breath control sucks, i can't mold my voice into something, and my voice is raspy. i could keep going. it doesn't sound like sabrina carpenter, ariana grande, whitney. someone told me it sounded like maria once, but i'm calling bullshit. and most importantly when i sing, my neck hurts or i get a splitting headache.
now, second reason i came up with is that, like my mother said, its a chore. she told me i only sing to practice, i don't sing because i like the melody songs create. i don't sing because i love it. i sing because it feels like it's already a job for me, and as if i'm about to make money from it. i tried to deny this, but i think it's true. when i sing, i don't sing like i'm trying to enjoy the song, i feel like i'm trying to monitor my voice and what it sounds like.
when i practice and i cut myself short, it's not because my voice hurts or i'm tired of singing, it's because i don't like how i sound, which makes me think: am i enjoying the song at all? obviously to get better at singing, i have to practice, its a must. but i don't often sing because i like a song, i sing them as a form of work. now, i thought this would all be easily avoidable if i just went to singing classes, because now i can focus on practicing there and enjoying singing out here. but i've always been of the "if i had this, it would be better" mentality. and in this case, i might even be right! but my mom asked "why would i pay money for something you don't even like", and maybe she's right and it is a waste.
maybe i hate singing because i'm bad at it but i'm starting to feel like this is my only option.
but that was until last year when i fell in love with gaming. game development particularly.
now i've always been a fan of gaming; not like the fortnite, COD, GTA and other games of the sort, but more like resident evil, roblox, the last of us type games, but then i fell even more in love with learning how to make them. now this is a whole big story and another story for another day, but basically, i now feel like game development is something i would be really interested in taking in university. but that didn't make me want to stop singing and trying to make music so... maybe the second point is invalid. but i don't know.
recently, i've been taking more effort to practice my singing and improve my voice. i sing daily now, for a significant amount of time. i've been seeing some progress actually. my sister told me that i've always been improving, but it's not the little improvements i see. its the big one. she's in 6th grade... 😭
anyways, thats all i know about this entire thing. its making me really sad and unhappy writing this entire thing. i thought i had everything figured out about this, but this whole "you hate singing" thing is doing my head in. i just wanna dance and make music :(
what do you guys think?

i am transferring to a university from community college (NJ) in the fall of 2025 and plan on going to florida. i am stuck between FAU, FIU, and FGCU. I have heard so many good and bad things about each school and it’s making it very hard to decide especially since i am out of state and i can’t just go visit whenever i want. I don’t want a boring school, i like going out, nightlife, tailgates, frat parties all that stuff, as well as exciting student life; on campus events stuff like that. Housing is also very important to me as i will have to live on campus due to being out of state. up to date buildings/classrooms/dorms. I want a school with engaging professors not ones that just stand there and read off of a slide, as well as good advisors. the college i attend right now has terrible advisors it makes it so difficult to chose classes i don’t want to deal with that again. i have done so much research on these schools and i still can’t seem to figure out which one is best for me. please if you know anything about any of these schools let me know!!! or any other florida schools you suggest. thank you !

Heyyy,
So my names Ash, I’m turning F21 in September. I’m currently in my second year of uni and live at a residential college.
A bit about my background, I grew up in a very dysfunctional family, my mum is a drug addict with psychosis, my dad passed away by suicide before I was born and my step-dad sexually abused me for most/all of my childhood. I was eleven when I went to the police and told them what was happening, after that I was placed in long term care with my carer (nan) and she was not physically abusive or unsafe but just very emotionally and psychologically abusive.
In year 7, after I had just been placed in care, I got very attached to my year 7 teacher, let’s call her Melissa, I was an eleven year old dealing with major ptsd and no support was given to me, anyways, I told her I loved her and wanted to be with her, obviously now when I look back I just wanted her to be my mum because I didn’t have one anymore, but as an eleven year old who spent the ages of 3 - 11 being molested, I thought it was normal to express love that way, anyways, she ended up filing a restraining order against me, expelling me and I got a formal caution from the police for harassment and stalking. My carer ended up hitting me and calling me weird, so ever since then our relationship has been very strained and I feel a lot of shame about my attachment problems but I know I need to be compassionate and kind to myself about it because it all stems from my mum and trauma.
Fast forward a few years, I kept forming attachments to different mother figures and over time I’ve learned how to manage the intensity of it better although internally I struggle with it just as much as I used to, it just doesn’t present the same way anymore.
Okay so that was all just for context, what I need advice on is my current attachment. As I said I live at a residential college, there we have a wellbeing and student support person, her names Anna, the moment I saw her I knew I’d get attached so I avoided her for weeks during my first year at the college last year, didn’t last long because I ended up having to see her for drinking too much and passing out at a club, I was given a drinking band for a week 😅 After that I emailed her many times and one of them was asking if she could be a parental figure type of person for me as I don’t have parents and she said yes but I don’t think she knew what she was getting herself into with me and my BPD and stuff lol rip
After that she gave me her number, a lot of the residents have her number, and then I started messaging her all the time and asking to come see her in her office all the time, I’d send her drunk text messages, I’d basically explode over text messages to her about my feelings and my thoughts and my trauma and everything really, she’d always respond in a caring manner. Last year I told her to go away and then come back so many times, it was very back and forth but she never took it personally because I think she understands why I behave the way I do sometimes, I had to make a statement to the police last year and she drove me there in her car.
Now it’s 2024 and it’s my second year living at the college and knowing Anna. I can open up to her more about things and talk more to her in person rather than messages all the time now, I do send goodnight and goodmorning texts though most days. I haven’t seen her or been in contact with her for almost a week now because she’s been so busy with running the college and everything and I guess I feel like I’ve been going crazy, my BPD favourite person symptoms really be going hard, the amount of messages I’ve sent about random ass shit argh. I just, she’s the first adult in my entire life who I have a stable relationship with, she doesn’t judge me or hate me or think I’m weird, all she wants is to support me and help me grow, I’ve never had someone like that in my life before and I just, I don’t know, I don’t want to lose her because she very much does feel like a mother figure to me, I feel like I’ve learnt so much from her over this past year already.
I just don’t know where this relationship is going, I don’t know if she actually cares about me or if she’s just doing her job and I don’t know, I don’t know what I want or my expectations, I know she can’t be my mum, she already has a family of her own but she did say when i leave she’s more than happy to catch up over coffee together
I just feel like when im with her I’m a child again and I act like one too it’s embarrassing but also she’s giving me a safe space to express myself and grow as an individual I guess
I don’t really know what I’m asking for I just want someone’s opinion on the situation and advice or something idk I’m sorry
Thank you for reading I’m kinda a bit stoned ngl ahaha

Aaahh this is going to be long but I have nowhere else to address my current circumstances right now and I dunno if this is the right place to say this but I hope it is. sob sob
Anyways, hi! I'm a college student (21F) who has been peer-reviewed (lol) that I may be autistic when I opened up to a friend about how I'm so overwhelmed around people and the environment in general everytime I go outside, especially at school. They are autistic as well and they pointed out that I have traits that can be linked to autism. I was pretty sure I have ADHD, but now I'm confused and I'm trying to figure myself out abt myself once again and why I can't be a person like other people who seem like they live life on an easier level than me (not completely disregarding their struggles but I hope it makes sense).
This happened around March, during my midterm exams, where I couldn't really focus on anything anymore after how many years of forcing myself to function properly despite stressed and overwhelmed. My brain felt like its treated like one of those ASMR slime videos where people stretch and squeeze/crumple the slime but instead in a satisfying way, it really felt uncomfortable and I felt like crying in the middle of our exams. I had to stop myself bc its so embarrasing to just randomly cry during exams where I couldn't even understand why I was crying at all lol. Not to add the very loud voices from my classmates and other noises I couldn't tolerate anymore for how many years that these types of noises messed with my brain. I wasn't able to comprehend every question from the exam even if it was familiar to me.
After that, I told my dad that I didn't want to go to our family reunion with our relatives bc I was so exhausted and I needed alone time to myself even for just one day. I really liked to be alone and prefer to do stuff I like alone or with a person that I'm very comfortable with. Just do our own stuff and not requiring to speak at all. Just there vibing. Everytime I have to go outside and meet people, it felt like I have to put a personality just to be able to converse with them and manage to smile even if I don't want to. I don't know how to act around people and how to empathize with them, so I have to learn/copy and research others' behavior - which my friend pointed out that I may be autistic and I was masking to fit in.
Unfortunately, my dad didn't understand and forced me to go despite my reasoning, which made me incredibly upset and I had to put on another personality just to come off as not rude towards my relatives. It was very tiring and at that moment I wish I wasn't a person at all (tbh I wish I was a cloud 24/7 bc I'm just up there floating). The good thing is that the venue was at an exclusive beach resort, where the sea waves can calm me down a little bit after drinking liquor with my cousins. (I only drank those light beers bc I don't want to experience getting drunk + my parents were there).
I feel severely burnt out after that, and I think it continues to affect me up to this day. I once loved being a pharmacy major and learning about how drugs affect the body and all that but with the way how my teachers conduct their lessons and quizzes + super super overstimulated from the environment and lots of responsibilities, my mind won't process any new information anymore and my body refuses to move and work on my school stuff, and I lose motivation to study, too. Or even get up from bed at all.
Another thing that my friend pointed out was how I manage my time to prepare. I don't know how to explain it in general but I'll give an example on how I do my routine when I go on campus. My classes usually start at 8 AM, and I leave at 7 AM. Therefore I prepare myself 2 hours early and "operate" every 30 minutes. I need to get one or two things done within 30 minutes or else I feel like I would be late and I hate feeling late. I don't like changing schedules last minute or very late announcements (which my teachers are fond of changing schedules very late or make an announcement for lab requirements at like 12 midnight on the same day where we will have lab classes and I'm already asleep around 8 to 9!! Everyone seemed to be fine with it but I was super stressed out and I don't like stuff similar to that). And yesterday when we had our math class, my teacher said we would end at 6 PM to catch up on our topics, so I told my dad that I need to be picked up at 6 PM bc I feel unsafe going home when its dark outside. But around 5:40 when we had our break time she suddenly said that we would be extending until 8 PM, and I felt like I was about to cry again.
I went outside of campus to buy snacks and saw that my dad was already there waiting for me so I came up to him and cried (very embarrassing on my part ughhh) but I couldn't control myself anymore. I was teary eyed and tried to stop my tears so I jokingly told my friend that I'm about to cry bc of how tired I am so she wouldn't notice. I hated the feeling so bad bc my teacher said she would dismiss us at 6 PM, and 8 PM I should be on my bed that time.
I also dislike it when people set their schedules like 7:45 PM or 8:15 AM or 9:20 AM and not 7:00 or 7:30/8:00 or 8:30 and all that stuff because its hard for me to prepare that way. Or when they plan stuff and tell me that we'll go at night, but not specifying the time.
In regards of my interests, I like pharmacology, radiopharmaceuticals, physics, art, and fashion design. I also like math even I'm not really good at those things I mentioned. I just love to read stuff about them and how people come up with theories. The thing is I'm more of a gatekeeper and I dislike sharing them to people even if they share the same interests as me, unless I am comfortable with them. I'm more of a listener than a talker. I don't know if its a common thing among autistic people. And everytime I gain a new interest, my other interests go dormant and I can only focus on that one specific interest which made me lead to ignore my other interests and responsibilities.
Aside from that, I struggle expressing my emotions especially facial expressions. I get scolded at lot by my mom that I look pissed but I'm not pissed at all. It feels uncomfy for me to smile either, and my emotions are usually just stagnant, I think. The only feeling I can "feel" is when I'm stressed, anxious, angry, and everything else feels like "meh" to me. "How are you feeling?" questions are hard for me to answer and I wish I have a soundboard to respond and its just vine boom noise or stuff like that to accurately describe what I'm feeling instead of words.
When it comes to repetitive movements, I don't really know because I don't pay attention to my actions. I have a habit of picking my lips and pulling strands of my hair though. Nowadays I bring my cotton doll with me to keep my hands busy or end up crocheting since they make me feel comfortable.
I think I have a lot more stuff that are autistic traits but it's going to be very very long than this one. I'm seeing a psychologist a few days from now to get myself assessed because I know I really need professional help. I'm anxious that I'm not "autistic enough" to be diagnosed but upon reading people's experiences in here and in other subreddits as well + having high scores in online tests + reading Devon Price's "Unmasking Autism", I felt very seen and made me decide that I should go see a professional, but I don't really know what to say to them and I feel like I should have a format for everything I say (as always). It would be nice if anyone has an advice for this too.
Again, sorry if its very long and you had to read them all !! I have no idea about myself anymore and I just want to make life somehow easier to me to manage instead of trying to treat life as something that I have to survive instead of just living. That or become an alien/entity from a higher dimension so I can do what I want and no longer be perceived or be noticed/given attention to.
That's all, thank you very much! 🫶

My (28F) wedding is coming up in two months, and my fiancé, Dave (30M), and I are excited to finally get married after being together for seven years. We’ve been planning everything to make sure our day is perfect.
My sister, Emma (26F), is an aspiring author. She’s been working on her first novel for the past few years and recently finished it. While I'm glad she found something she likes, I’m not thrilled with her recent idea.
A few weeks ago, Emma told me she was planning a big book launch. I was excited for her until she said she wanted to do it at my wedding reception. She thought it would be perfect because so many family and friends would be there, and it would save her the cost of planning a separate event.
I was shocked and told her that I didn’t think it was a good idea. Our wedding day is supposed to be about Dave and me, not about promoting her book. I suggested she could hand out invitations for a separate launch party instead. I talked to Dave and even he agreed
Emma was furious. She accused me of being selfish and not supporting her dreams. She argued that it wouldn’t take much time and would actually add excitement to the event. She even suggested that it could be her wedding gift to us – a way to entertain the guests.At that time I honestly thought that she had some faulty wiring in her brain.
I stood my ground and said no, which led to a huge argument. Now, Emma isn’t speaking to me, and my parents are pressuring me to reconsider. They think it’s a reasonable request and that I should be more accommodating. Well it's nothing new thwy always do that .They say family should support each other and that I’m being too stubborn.
Here's some background: Emma has always been the "golden child" in my parents' eyes. They’ve enabled her for years, letting her live with them rent-free and covering most of her expenses, even though she's never held a job or earned a penny on her own. She went to an arts college where she discovered her passion for writing.Emma is lucky she can write well, but it’s frustrating to see her get a free pass on everything just because she's the favourite one and can write well.
I'm no saint. During our argument, I said some nasty things and riled her up even more because I was so furious. Years of built-up frustration and feeling second to her just came out all at once. I regret how I handled it now, but I also feel strongly that my wedding day should be about me and Dave.
I've been getting texts every day from my parents .... They aren't agressive or anything but today they said that "I'm being a kid ,I was never like this".....How do I tell them that I have always suffered being the obedient matured girl they always had but never valued enough.
I'm furious and writing this as fast as I can do forgive me for any grammatical mistake. I feel conflicted.
I want to support my sister just to make things go back to normal but I'm also tired of my family,what do I do how do I handle it??
AITAH for refusing to let her use my wedding as a platform for her book?????

I'm having family problems (they're being kicked out the house (today probably) (also I don't live with them, I'm currently living with my single aunt and she pays the rent, most of the food when im home and the rest) they're renting for undue payments, dad works at a shop which he'll be kicked out of in a month too because the bosses changed, my mother can't work, tries to here and there as a maid, or by helping her friends because no one would accept her at any normal job, for 1 not having a high school deploma and two for having six kids, including me as the oldest at 21 years old.) the company i work in is a distribution company run by family members that have internal problems which effect our work environment, I've been asking the whole time I've been working here for a set schedule but they're expecting me to overwork and do a shit ton of their tasks as if that company is my life, and i live in a small town, Nador, Morocco. And I'm thinking about moving out to Casablanca or Tanger, I can't help my family because i can barely help myself, finding a job here is very difficult since they barely hire anyone plus I'm still in college with 0 diplomas except my high school degree and my "real life" experience. My parents couldn't pay for any of my education, i got accepted in so many schools after high school but in order to study you need money to live, so i had to make the hard decision of choosing something to study which would allow me to work at the same time, it was English Studies because it always has been effortless for me, but even that needs work and i barely have time to eat or work out at the current company. Right now I don't have any money i gave it all up to my family, and I'm planning on asking them at work, get that money which isn't anything more than $200, get a bus and go start my journey somewhere else in a more open environment even though it might be extremely difficult that way. I need ideas and or personal experience so i can make the best decision possible please.

Palestinian Happy Family
A short story.
A father in his 30s named Ammar, looking so weak and exhausted. With his 7 year-old daughter named Lara, a thin injured girl in her arm with bandage under her brown hair covering wounds having green eyes filled with holded tears. They live inside a ruined house in Gaza.
Everything around them is dead. Wrecked streets are dead. Collapsed Schools are silent. Children and families used to fill the air here with life are now either dead, injured with no hospitals to rescue, or forced to leave places they have always belonged to.
The girl breaks a long dead silence saying to her father: “Dad…why all that happened? What was the wrong thing we did to deserve this punishment?” The father replies in disappointment: “I don't know!”.
After short silence while Lara is looking around to see what happened in pity and pain, she asks again in confusion: “How comes?! My mother and brother were killed…lost 5 of my friends who were killed also…what was our fault…before all this happened to our district, we were playing Hide and Seek after finishing our school day…can Hide and Seek game deserve this punishment?”
Ammar with a smile: “wouldn't you eat? I baked this loaf of bread to you using the oven we made together yesterday from mud, sticks, and cement…Oh! Thank God…we are really genius.” The girl looks at her father longly into the eyes and says: “Where's your loaf?” He answered: “I ate a piece from yesterday’s bread…we are out of flour now…but don't worry…I will find my way to some flour again. Don't underestimate your father.”
The girl began eating hardly but stopped again after eating two small pieces saying: “Dad! You changed the subject…what did we do to deserve this punishment?” She continues on: “You know dad! I heard someone say that it's because we are Muslims…but what about my friend Cristina who was killed last week?” Ammar says: “Oh Lara! I didn't ask my old brother all these questions when my father and mother were killed when I was at your age…I know that you have the write to ask all the time…but sometimes questions have no answers.”
Lara looks at her father's face silently and after a while she asks with pain: “Dad! Are you trying to hold your tears? Didn't you get used to being into this throughout your life? You spent your life either in war or in calm ordinary big prison sieged by poverty, corruption, soldiers, tanks, and planes.”
Ammar keeps silent and silent. All of a sudden, he breaks down crying while trying to hide his face by his hands. He begins talking with distorted voice: “What a shame; I can't do this…I can't be weak in front of you…there's no one left for a tiny girl like you in this world but me…but I’m a human…I can't stand all of this…won't I see my girl go to school in peace and joy?! Won’t I see my girl in a home again?! Will I be able to find you a loaf of bread tomorrow?! What if I can't?! What did you do to deserve all of this?! What did your mother and brother do?! What did my father and mother do?! What did my imprisoned for life older brother do?! What did your tiny friends do?! I feel weak in front of you and it kills me every single moment as a father…I and you despite our weakness should be proud…we will die but inside ruins of our home…these bricks are not of bricks…every brick means home, means motherland, means dignity, means resilience, means glory and pride…real pride.”
Lara rises up and hugs her dad who is sitting tired after a hard speech leaning on a wall standing tall from the wrecked home. Rain comes heavily on their heads. They hide under remains of a roof. Sounds of a new air raid are heard.

4 months ago now I had a few huge manic episodes that ended up diagnosing me with bipolar. I'm new to all this, but I am medicated now. The fact is, I had just started to date a person after coming out of my depressive phase into my manic one. I acted horribly, being selfish, having all these expectations for him, talking about my exes as an "example" of why I had certain standards, and sometimes saying shallow/jealous comments.
He broke up with me, we stopped talking for 3 months, then a month ago he reached out and wanted to go on a walk, and after that reached out with a text to be fwb. We have hooked up a few times now, and I can semi-rewire my mind not to have such deep feelings for them but I do still have some type of feelings.
I also feel like I hate hu w him and am only doing this to prove to him that I am "better" now. I try explaining to him each time how I was manic when we first started dating, that that is not me. I feel like he doesn't take me seriously and I hate that. I think I also know deep down that he is using our time as a fix for his little sex addiction.
But I like him and don't want to not see him but I hate this dynamic. I wish I was never manic the first time and it would've been great. And I know seeing him, even once a week as we are will not be good for my mental health this last year before I transfer colleges. I guess my question is that will people like this who don't understand BD, ever understand? How can I explain this to him/heal my mind?

For context we’ve been friends for a bit since 2019 and we met through college. Now we’ve graduated and we still hang out and we’re much closer now. We’ve even taken trips out the country together(him paying for nearly everything ). (No sex tho!) I go over his house quite frequently and his roommate is coincidentally never there. (Perhaps about 7 months no roommate sighting ) This time his was there and I was staying the night. I only awkwardly waved at him and then followed my friend up to his room and I slept over like normal. I don’t feel comfortable that my friend didn’t feel the need to introduce me to someone when we’ve been good friends for so long. Makes me not want to come back and stay the night for a while. Why am I trippin about this? (For more context this is the only guy friend I feel comfortable staying the night with I do not do this casually.)

I was about to post this on the medical subreddit, but people their start moral policing and hating before providing solution.
Im 23F from UP
Grew up progressive in conservative household (parents are racist, homophobic, ultra-castist and bigots) with the pressure of performing better in academics so that my parents could tell others that even though I wasnt a man, I was still be able to succeed in life. Deep within everyone was hoping that my mom would birth at least one son. She didnt.
Im 23 now, and I have had ........lets say a very wierd life. Parents never loved each other and mother developed depression, anxiety and heart issues when I was growing up. She resents her life very much. Neither parents was there emotionally and me and my sister arent allowed to be emotional and vulnerable with anyone. Not even ourselves. Crying is a BIG NO in my house.
As the first kid to my parents, I grew up as a test subject, the experinmental kid. parents used to beat me a lot until i turned 19. Most of it was because they couldnt hit each other and needed a punching bag. Mom did apologise later in life but it didnt mend my heart. We live together but we hardly ever talk.
My parents also spoiled me a lot, but I never demanded a single thing from them. Mainly because I was not good in studies so I was repremanded that I would not be passed the generational wealth my dad had collected, because I wasnt a smart 'studious' sincere kid with good grades. So I never demanded or asked for anything from them. Just nodded at whatever decision was made by them for me because I felt guilty asking for things that I could never return with my academic performance.
Ours is a very disfunctional family with both parents being Voldemort and Harry Potter. They are in mid-50s and still argue a LOT. Mother is on heavy neuro medication all the time because through the year severe abuse by her in-laws and dad has left her soulless and hollow. She has passed all that trauma on me by saying things to me NO MOTHER EVER should even say to her daughter.
Im not a very studious person but I do read a LOT. I am an avid reader and I think i would off myself if i wouldnt read at least once a day. Reading and cinema is EVERYTHING to me.
THE PROBLEM: I gave NEET 3rd time this year. Score is around 250-350. Parents are pressurising that I have to either get a low fees+good college through NEET score, or I have to get into the UPSC race, if i choose neither of them , then they will start looking for potential grooms to get rid of me. I know i am a burden to them because they have spent a lot of money on my education. And beti for them is 'paraya dhan' after all. We live in Tier-1 city but they think that people will look at them wierd if adult daughter is at home just sitting and doing a casual graduation/post garduation degree. MBBS/BAMS from govt and MBBS from private is unaffordable. BAMS from private is the only option. One of my friends is doing BAMS and his college fees is 1-2 lakh per year. Even though even 1 lakh a year is too much for us, maybe if i beg they will relent.
I dont believe in Ayurveda though. I think its pseudoscience and no one goes straight to Ayurveda doc if they have cough and cold.
I will be real with you i am only partially in healthcare for caring/helping. Im also in this for money. (to fund my sisters education as she is a closeted lesbian and fears that parents might disown her if they find out)
I have no idea what to do. I dont own a single penny to my name.
I dont want to do UPSC. I dont like Ayurveda, but thats the only possible solution now. I have lost the mental ability to take a drop another year.
Parents are absolutely not ready for me to choose ANY other field,as its their money , their child so they get to decide. They have a reputation to make in front of all the relatives who bashed them and look down on them (my parents) for having only daughters,
Please guide me,
Thank You

First/Previous
Gemma was right about the sky’s open night, and I could sympathize with her recollection of the beauty, but for me it must’ve been a greater tragedy—the young woman had only ever enjoyed the stars in the pits of Golgotha; I could, long before, drink in the sky at leisure. Cruel memories.
The night the Rednecks died was one of viscera, but before that it was coolness on the breeze, a warmth by the fires while John played his guitar and we had only just taken two dozen kegs of lager (personal reserves) from the Atlanta despot—the man that kept his subjects as slaves and not a person among the camp was left without budding intoxication. No matter the age, everyone was invited to be merry; if it was that children too faced the plight of a bad world, then so too should they reap the moments of plenty—or so the camp figured.
John had taken a group by the fires where wagons were drawn in interlocking semicircles for cover and Jackson sat beside the picker. Jackson was a man which normally preferred quiet reflection over boisterous singing and nearly never wore the band on his throat, and yet there he was belting out the chorus at the top of his lungs, tankard in hand, red cloth blazed around his neck—it was a contagion and those drunk enough for easier embarrassment sang proudly along:
“There is power, there is power in a band of working folk!
When we stand hand in hand,
That’s a power, that’s the power,
That must rule in every land!”
I’d taken to the outlying shadows with my back pressed against the gas-powered caleche, my own tankard in hand. I loved the warmth of that great big family, truly, but even in those days—and maybe it was that queer youthfulness which longed for individualism that made me that way then—I remained as distanced as possible when I could. I sipped the lager, it was a fine drink and my brother Billy, nearly as old as I was when I’d first taken up in the infantry, swaggered to stand beside me just as quiet for minutes and we looked at the stars and he asked me what it was like to kill a man.
“Is it hard?” he asked.
I nodded, “Sometimes.”
“Killing monsters ain’t so bad. Don’t know if I could do it to a person.”
“You could if they meant to kill you; or if they meant to do it to someone you cared about,” I promised him. In those days, spry, energized, I held no time for staring into abysses; though I still wasn’t a man fully, I pretended as one. It was about family, and it was about doing what was right—what’s right seemed to change, or I changed. The world felt stark with good and evil and even later I’d feel that sentiment well up in me, but if that’s true, I know I stand more on the latter and so I intentionally obfuscated it—this I know. If not, it might be too much to bear. I was required to lie to myself and even in knowing I lied, it was better.
Billy tugged on the red kerchief around his throat and asked me how it looked on him.
“Looks good,” I said.
“Don’t think I look stupid at all?”
I smiled over my drink, “You always look stupid.” I sipped. “The neckwear’s fine.”
“Give me a break,” said Billy; he investigated his own cup, gave it a swish with his wrist, watching its contents swirl. “Aren’t you ever afraid you’ll die?”
“Sometimes—nights like this—I wouldn’t mind it.”
“Really?” my brother asked.
“There’s always a chance of it. Every moment, I guess.”
He smiled. “I wish I had that confidence.”
“You’ll get it,” I returned his smile; it was true that he would gain the fighting spirit. It came to us all with time and reminiscing on the early days, I recall the grit and the hatred—there was learning there too though. Besides, I’d seen the squalors of a stationary man. The stagnation of a place, an unmoving home.
John put his guitar away and laughter erupted from the crowd from something said and Sibylle, cowboy hat cocked funny, traipsed across the camp to the open keg for a refill; the man there, tending the cylinders, was a man named Tandy (a foreigner and one unknown besides the way he smoked a skunk pipe and told wild stories). My mother leaned over while Tandy opened the spigot mouth on the keg, and she froze there, and I could see her there cut out forever against the light of the fires; I watched, and it came so suddenly that I couldn’t be sure what’d happened at all. It was so sudden that I couldn’t find my weapon and I couldn’t find even the courage to fight because in those moments it wasn’t courage I needed, it was grounds to understand.
Sibylle came apart in two pieces immediately, torn completely through and dust erupted as her legs struck the ground while her torso spun through the air like a top, a trail of liquid trailed after, caught in the blue of night so it shone as black; she couldn’t scream. Tandy was a statue. Before anyone could react, more flesh, other bodies, went up and there was all manner of limbs which filled the ground, and it is astounding how quickly a red mist forms across the ground during a massacre. Perhaps the wails of my comrades started before, perhaps others fell before Sibylle, but I could not comprehend the goings-on till I saw her drop the way she did.
Frail human screams rose on the night; I slammed to the ground, tankard gone away and hands scrambling in the dirt; I reached up blindly and yanked Billy to my level and his expression was one of innocence, panic, tears even. Glancing around, I saw the demons bolt from the pitch-black darkness on the edges of camp, mutants taking the fore while greater creatures lurked further back, some hurled whips of gliding metal which writhed over their heads when they stretched them out for a strike—alien—and they sliced directly through soft human bodies. Not even a cry escaped me, but Billy let go with it and I slapped my cupped hand over his mouth hard to hold the screams. His voice would not have been alone anyway, not alongside that startling cacophony. Amidst the cries of people, there were the cries of horses, of our hounds.
We rolled across the ground, slipped beneath the raised body of the gas-powered caleche, remained quiet in the dark, peeked out between the wheels.
“What’s happening?” Billy whispered through my fingers; I removed my hand from him and caught a glimpse of him framed in a square of firelight through the wheels—we lay there on our bellies and the left side of his face was glazed with dirt where I’d pulled him down.
“Shh,” I told him, “Shh, please. Please.” Not another word came while I pleaded with him, pleaded with the world to make this all a nightmare.
Through the haze and the running silhouettes painted black, I saw what might have been Jackson; he stumbled and in the moment that it took me to gasp, his head was gone from his body, his torso slid on as he collapsed, came to rest mere feet from the motor wagon. I told myself that it wasn’t him, but it probably was.
Some mutants lumbered through the camp like animated corpses, some leapt with wild energy or sprayed noxious fumes which lingered in the air; others still were amalgams of humanlike limbs themselves—fiends—exhausting terrible sounds, producing smells of sulfur, glistening with whatever liquids excreted from their oblong alien orifices. Demons ran amok, chanted in devil tongued languages, laughed madly at the destruction—others still, those which displayed some greater intelligence, broke into a song I could never hope or want to replicate; it seemed a unified damnation.
“Please,” I repeated in a whimper and Billy hushed me this time and I realized we were holding hands, squeezing for dear life as figures walked the camp, speared those half-alive, elected others for twisted carnality.
In darkness, in fright plainly, we scuttled from the recess of our hiding place, kept quiet, held to each other, and went into the wasteland where nothing was—every shadow was a potential threat, every second could’ve been the last. We were holding hands; then we weren’t.
Only a glance—that’s all I afforded my brother and nothing more—what a joke of a person I am! What a coward I was. Always.
Something got him in the dark and instead of dying alongside those I cared about, I went on, heartbeat driving me till it was all that I heard in my ears and my muscles ached and my chest heaved and sweat covered me, chilled me in the breeze of the night—it was only once I’d accepted the dark completely, crawled into a hollowed space of rocks along a squat ridge that I watched the demolished camp; it seemed no larger than a spark, but the creatures, fiends and others continued their war cries; never before had I witnessed demons participate in such an attack.
I watched till the sun came, till the fires became smoke, then I watched the band of hell creatures disband. The smell of sulfur remained in the air—copper too—and I stumbled back to the camp in a dreamlike daze, totally unbelieving of the things I saw. Among those dead on the ground, I could recognize none; among those piked from rear to shoulder, standing like morbid scarecrows where they’d been steadied against the ground, I could not want to recognize.
Many of the wagons were overturned, including the gas-powered caleche and I went to it; the metal of its body was warped but I fell to the ground by it and pushed my back against the exposed undercarriage, remained frozen there while examining the bodies, the terrible strips of skin which rested places like wet sheets of paper, the piles of bones removed and smashed and piled.
I cried so deeply that oxygen became a memory, and the shakes couldn’t be contained.
It was like that for so long, knees pulled up, face pushed between, and the wails came unafraid of whatever attention they might garner; there was no rationale, but I imagine if there had been, I would’ve welcomed death in that misery. It was a deep wound that not even my own cowardice would overcome for the sake of survival.
Unaware of my surroundings, not wanting to look up from the ground between my legs, the noise which had started out as imaginary became real and I raised my head then to listen better and wipe my sore eyes; it was the sound of clip-clop horse hooves and I mildly wondered if any of the animals had been spared. I stood and pivoted around the dead camp and there it was, a man on a painted horse with golden hair; he leisurely drove the mount through the place, maneuvering around pools of blood, clumps of body parts and upon seeing me, he smiled and offered a languid wave, keeping one of his gloved hands on the reins.
The man wore white and swished his hair back upon arriving directly in front of me. Ahoy, he offered kindly, Did you happen to see the other riders?
I shook my head, feeling numb.
Ah, he said, I could have sworn four other riders, at least, passed me on my way. His gray eyes examined the carnage. Shame. He shook his head. You are?
“H-harlan.”
He nodded and nearly offered an expression of genuine condolence before descending from the horse; the animal gave a gentle grunt and wandered away from its master to inspect a nearby group of the dead. The man offered his hand, and I took it in a shake. Mephisto, said the man. He flashed a smile again before his face grew serious. I’ve come to you to deal.
I shot him a questioning look, one of bafflement.
I heard your calls from far off. He nodded, removed a white handkerchief from his breast pocket and swiped it down his face. Hot out. He shrugged then replaced the cloth in his pocket. This, he motioned to the disarray of vehicles, of bodies, I can’t fix all this—it’s too much—but there’s a person you love, I know. I could bring them back.
“Doctor?” In retrospect it was such a naïve question.
He shook his head.
“Angel?”
He grinned and nodded, Sure.
“Demon?”
Undoubtedly. His eyes—pits of gray in that radiant face—nearly expressed solemness; he daintily shook the hair from his face and looked at his steed which sniffed a corpse. What’s the word, Harlan? There are others calling and I must be on my way soon—I can’t dally. There was a sharpness to the words. Can’t dally. We must convene soon, or I’ll mosey on.
I snorted back the clog in my nose from the tears and wiped my eyes with my sleeves. “Okay.”
Deal?
I nodded, “Deal.”
Sleep tonight, said Mephisto, Sleep and you’ll be rewarded in the morning.
“You said it’s a deal.”
He nodded and scanned the carnage before we matched gazes and then he said, Yes?
“What is it you want from me?”
Nothing you need now. He called the horse, and it came, and he swept his feet quickly from the ground and settled into position atop the animal. Sleep, Harlan. You won’t be bothered. There are worse things still over the horizon.
I watched him go till he disappeared and once he was gone, I couldn’t cry anymore and instead rummaged through the wagons for what I might carry; along the way I found John, face twisted but corpse intact. The body from the previous night that I’d guessed was Jackson couldn’t be determined but I found him nowhere else. I slid Sibylle’s holster from her hips, fell hard onto the ground and found that I could sob more. I took her cowboy hat, placed it on my head and held her pistol in one hand and the belt holster dangled from the other while I searched the other bodies; there were so many, but I could not find Billy.
Waiting for darkness, I took the spot where I rested, back against the caleche’s undercarriage, watched the sky and felt the gun in my hand; it was heavy. I put it to my head, closed my eyes, and whispered affirmations to myself then I put the pistol between my splayed legs, watched it still in the dirt, and pulled the hat down over my eyes but it did little for the smell. Though the brim of the hat cut the sky out, I watched the ground and saw circling shadows form overhead and heard calls of turkey vultures; they came to pick over the bodies. I withdrew my knees to my chest there again and laid my forearm across them and bit into my arm while closing my eyes. I had thought I was a man and for a time, maybe I was, but there in that miserable pit of despair I became a child again and if I’d become more delirious, I’m sure I might’ve called out for Jackson like it was a bad dream.
Into a fading stupor of sleep in the sun I went and when I awoke again it was dark and chilly and I was tired and hungry but too sick to eat and hardly strong enough to move; I looked at the gun and put it into its holster and left it there by the caleche. In the light of the moon and stars, I moved to gather a bolt of canvas; I unfurled the fabric and created a leaning shelter against the overturned vehicle and crawled into it. There was a hole in the canvas, and I peeked out at the stars.
Weeping came again, but not so uproarious; I was stuck there letting go of whimpers, lying on my back, feeling the tears trace in lines from the outer corners of my eyes to collect along my earlobes. In time, I fell to sleep again on the hard ground because the mourning had taken all else from me.
A pinpoint of sunlight broke my eyelids and I jerked awake and reached for the holster, but it was gone. So was the hat. I crawled from the leaning shelter and there he was.
Billy stood plainly among the dried, congealed blood-soaked field and he looked on to the horizon and all shadows were long in the midday sun which hung up there in a soft blue sky. Whether it be a dream or a spell, I couldn’t care—I charged to him and spun him so he faced me and though his face was plain and expressionless, I wrapped him into a forceful hug. He placed his hands on my back and gave a gentle squeeze; when I pulled from him, my hands on his shoulders, I saw he held Sibylle’s hat in his left hand, pinched by the brim; he’d already tugged her holster belt around his hips—he could have it all. I shook while holding him then let go to wipe my face.
“You’re alive,” I nodded.
He nodded without speaking then looked at the hat in his hand and placed it on his head and firmly pressed it down.
“Billy! Hell, you’re alive!”
The corners of his mouth twitched upward for a moment then he nodded again. “Yeah.” His eyes curiously searched our surroundings like he meant to take each detail in forever.
I slapped him on the shoulder and almost squealed. “Goddammit.” I wiped my eyes again and could do little to keep the excitement from exploding from me. “Oh, we should go. We should go on and get somewhere safe.”
He nodded toward the horizon, “’Lanta?”
“Sure.”
We packed and it was a like an ethereal phantom remained among us beside the quiet dead; turkey vultures cawed to break the silence, pecked where they pleased on the bodies, and I couldn’t want to fight them. I kept sidelong eyes on Billy with the ever-present worry that he’d vanish. Perhaps he was the phantom.
From the rear of the caleche, I removed a few sentimental books Jackson liked, essential cookware, and sparse rations for the trek. The last thing I grabbed was my shotgun and a bit of ammo.
As we set from the dead place, the terrible silhouettes that were cut from there on the horizon behind us grew in my mind with every backward glance—I wanted to fall to pieces, but I saw Billy walk alongside me and although contented is not the right word, it is the nearest. The steps of our boots were all that was heard because I could not fathom to pierce the space between us with words for fear that it would all end. It was a dream, surely. I’d lost my mind. With my hands thumbed into the straps of my pack, I saw I my hands still shook, and they would shake a lot longer—years and with memories too. The crunch of earth underfoot became a rhythm and instead of looking at my brother, I watched his shadow on the ground.
“Everyone’s dead?” He asked.
“Yeah.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah,” I repeated.
“How ain’t I? How ain’t you?”
To say that it was luck would’ve been too morbid. Instead of saying anything, I shrugged, kicked a loose stone, watched my feet some more, and felt a queasiness come over me. For the moment, the immeasurable deaths of those I’d left behind were forgotten in the company of my brother and a sickness welled up inside of me so suddenly that I felt that I’d fall to pieces at the slightest provocation. Finally, I did speak again, but only after steeling myself to the troubles, “Yeah, how are you alive?”
Billy shrugged at me then stumbled up a hill which overlooked trash wood wilderness where sticks lay twisted and bare and further on the sight of Atlanta was visible and I cupped a hand across my brow and Billy did the same and we looked on at the shadows of the place out there where strings of smoke rose from the skyline as a signature for the desolation of the city; it was dead. I felt it in my bones.
My hands were light while my head was heavy, my throat was dry, and the entire world seized in moments of stillness or perhaps it was my own vision which construed the world in that way; I took to the small hill which Billy had climbed and sat there and stared at the place between my feet to steady myself.
“Fire,” said Billy.
I nodded and nearly choked.
Leviathan—till then I had no belief in dragons—glided over the broken city, its winged shadow little seen but its voice was deep across the scene, letting go of roars which shook the ground. We hid among the trash wood and moved down the hill and watched the creature thrash in the air as if it was angry for its abominable life. Whatever millennia it spent in the pits of hell seemingly thrust upon it a love of destruction and pain.
My brother moved with a more assured stride and kept a cool distance and upon fleeing from the wreckage, from the outlying area of Atlanta and the place we’d left our family, he spoke little and watched me strangely whenever I took to melancholic fatiguing. We lit no fires for fear of what it could draw from the night so in the dark I’d see him watching some far-off place, maybe seeing through the reality which surrounded us, and he’d snap from it, catch my eye, and disappear for minutes to scan the perimeter of whatever place we stayed. Being alongside my resurrected brother was lonelier than I could bear, and I hoped he’d disappear for good or that I could work up the courage to end my own life. It was like purgatory explained in books and for a time, it felt endless; upon witnessing the destruction of Atlanta, we pushed to Marrietta, and it was much the same. As was Chatanooga, Nashville, Knoxville, Louisville, Charlotte. The ocean had risen so that Fayetville was gone underwater, and the Florida leg disappeared completely as far as I’m aware. I understood later that Memphis was overlooked and more places further west were alive too, but when we’d exhausted the south, we moved north and found strongholds of families or traders or even small groupings of civilization, but by and large we found nothing much in the two years that we hoofed it from place to place; it was my doing mostly—I wanted to find a place untouched by the mayhem in the area my family had once patrolled.
In retrospect, I am certain that Billy only stayed by my side for convenience; there wasn’t any of my brother left in the man that was my travelling companion for that time. He was a ghost of a person and Mephisto had preyed upon my desire in the worst moment of weakness in my life. There were nights—maybe we’d taken up in a natural alcove for shelter or we’d locked ourselves in some ancient structure for sleep—I’d watch Billy lay where he was, Sibylle’s hat and holster lying beside him, and I’d think of putting him down but he’d stir and in a brief shadow I’d see my brother as he’d been and withdraw to bury my face in fake sleep to be met with images of the night the demons attacked where I’d shake, sweat, and bite my lips so hard I’d drink blood.
Two years we marched around the Appalachians and in that time, I felt myself wither and disconnect.
Upon moving further north we met Indianapolis—that’s what it was called back then—and it was run by an older woman called Lady Lazarus; I reckon her father, affluent and dead, was a fan of Plath. Indianapolis was fortified more than most with its high walls, and its wall men, and its underground facilities which produced substantial ammunition. We—me and Billy’s revenant—were travelling with a group of traders we’d taken up with from out west; they called themselves wizards and although they seemed of the occult, their spirits discounted whatever suspicions I might’ve had of them.
I remember first pushing through that big gate; the town kept with it an indisputable malaise and though we were greeted at the gate by the leader Lady Lazarus—her brothers came along with her—and her jovial demeanor carried a certain infectious quality, I could not help but notice that the regular denizens maintained a healthy distance from their leader (the guards which followed the Lady everywhere probably had something to do with this).
Lady Lazarus touched each of our hands in greeting with enthusiasm and I could not help but notice how soft they were, how vibrant her eyes were, how much she smiled, and how beautiful she was given her age; already her head was fully gray.
Upon meeting each of us, going through the wizard traders first, she came to me, and Billy and she shook my hand then pivoted to Billy.
“Welcome. You can call me Lady.”
Billy caught her hand in his, held it longer than she’d intended so that they held eye contact, and he smiled broadly, tipped the cowboy hat on his head back to expose his smooth forehead and said, “And you can call me Maron, mam. You are quite a sight for a tired man.”
Though Maron—as he’d named himself—was more boy than man, Lady took a disturbed liking to him immediately and we prolonged our stay in Indianapolis after the wizards departed to head west.
Under the rule of Lady, Indianapolis was a theocracy, with her addressing the huddled masses at the steps of her grand abode, she’d preach for hours on sin and strife and quote her favorite passages; though reminiscent of my time with the Rednecks, I never found any truth or sincerity or freedom in her teaching—hers was more trouble, brimstone, fire and I’d had enough of that for a lifetime. Public execution was common. As was torture.
Maron distanced himself further from me, but I remained to keep an eye on him—it was not sentimentality but rather I existed without purpose and conjured some from watching my brother.
Often, Lady invited Maron to her private rooms and though the rumors and speculation ran the full spectrum of perverse speculation, every denizen feigned ignorance at her pregnancy.
Upon giving birth, the infant was malformed with two heads—her brothers took this as an omen and killed the child, put their leader in the stocks for months, and stripped her of dignity while the denizens did to her what they pleased.
Maron rose through the wall men while Lady’s brothers assumed control of Indianapolis and called themselves Bosses; in the time since Lady’s reign, the place was renamed to Golgotha for its closeness to a messiah.
I went west but always found myself drawn back to Golgotha because of some emptiness in me. It was only with Suzanne that I wanted something more and knowing them, I almost believed in a world like the one that children dream about. The world that Gemma and Andrew chased after when they left home, like the one Aggie talked about in her mother’s books. There’s a hopelessness in me that I’ll never be rid of. In the interim between our initial arrival to Golgotha and that flight from that terrible city, I cannot know how many people I sacrificed in convening with demons because I refuse to know because the number would destroy me. That is the worst of it; I do not even have courage enough to face myself or the actions of my past in any substantive way.
Mephisto tainted me so that I could speak with his kind as a dealmaker and the disease grew.
Billy or Maron or whatever he is should have been reaped long ago or better, I should never have brought that abomination alive. Such a cruel world where a deep longing like that can be inverted, weaponized. Me and him should both die; me and him should have died a long time ago.
First/Previous
Archive

My daughter has been going to the same daycare, two times a week, since she was a few months old. She is now 2 years old. Today I got a call from my best friend -let’s call her Jesse- telling me that her sister -let’s call her Angela- worked at the same daycare my daughter goes to, and recently quit. Angela didn’t realize my daughter was mine, otherwise she would have talked to me sooner, because I’m best friends with her sister. Anyway, she sent me a message concerned about how other staff members treat my daughter. My daughter has a hard time settling down at nap time while there (I never knew this because she’s fine at home). Angela said that she had witnessed one of the staff members wrap my daughter in her blanket and pin her down to try and force her to lay down. She said a staff member picked her up by one arm and slammed her in the time out chair. She said they take her comfort item (blanket) from her as punishment and rub it in her face why she can’t have it, which sends her into hysterics. She said staff members grab kids faces. She said some staff members are just neglectful in the way where they just don’t watch the children or pay attention, diapers aren’t changed often enough, kids are being screamed at. Illnesses going around are kept a secret from parents…etc.
I am going to be pulling my child hopefully this upcoming week. I need to try to secure another daycare.
But my question is, what can I do about this? Angela said the daycare made her sign an nda upon employment. I’m worried if I say something to the daycare, they’re going to know where I got the information from, because this is a very small town, and Angela would get in trouble.
I just want to advocate for my child and all of the other children who are too young to tell you exactly what’s going on.

I was about to post this on the medical subreddit, but people their start moral policing and hating before providing solution.
Im 23F from UP
Grew up progressive in conservative household (parents are racist, homophobic, ultra-castist and bigots) with the pressure of performing better in academics so that my parents could tell others that even though I wasnt a man, I was still be able to succeed in life. Deep within everyone was hoping that my mom would birth at least one son. She didnt.
Im 23 now, and I have had ........lets say a very wierd life. Parents never loved each other and mother developed depression, anxiety and heart issues when I was growing up. She resents her life very much. Neither parents was there emotionally and me and my sister arent allowed to be emotional and vulnerable with anyone. Not even ourselves. Crying is a BIG NO in my house.
As the first kid to my parents, I grew up as a test subject, the experinmental kid. parents used to beat me a lot until i turned 19. Most of it was because they couldnt hit each other and needed a punching bag. Mom did apologise later in life but it didnt mend my heart. We live together but we hardly ever talk.
My parents also spoiled me a lot, but I never demanded a single thing from them. Mainly because I was not good in studies so I was repremanded that I would not be passed the generational wealth my dad had collected, because I wasnt a smart 'studious' sincere kid with good grades. So I never demanded or asked for anything from them. Just nodded at whatever decision was made by them for me because I felt guilty asking for things that I could never return with my academic performance.
Ours is a very disfunctional family with both parents being Voldemort and Harry Potter. They are in mid-50s and still argue a LOT. Mother is on heavy neuro medication all the time because through the year severe abuse by her in-laws and dad has left her soulless and hollow. She has passed all that trauma on me by saying things to me NO MOTHER EVER should even say to her daughter.
Im not a very studious person but I do read a LOT. I am an avid reader and I think i would off myself if i wouldnt read at least once a day. Reading and cinema is EVERYTHING to me.
THE PROBLEM: I gave NEET 3rd time this year. Score is around 250-350. Parents are pressurising that I have to either get a low fees+good college through NEET score, or I have to get into the UPSC race, if i choose neither of them , then they will start looking for potential grooms to get rid of me. I know i am a burden to them because they have spent a lot of money on my education. And beti for them is 'paraya dhan' after all. We live in Tier-1 city but they think that people will look at them wierd if adult daughter is at home just sitting and doing a casual graduation/post garduation degree. MBBS/BAMS from govt and MBBS from private is unaffordable. BAMS from private is the only option. One of my friends is doing BAMS and his college fees is 1-2 lakh per year. Even this much fees is 2 much for us, but i guess if i beg they will relent.
I dont believe in Ayurveda though. I think its pseudoscience and no one goes straight to Ayurveda doc if they have cough and cold.
I will be real with you i am only partially in healthcare for caring/helping. Im also in this for money. (to fund my sisters education as she is a closeted lesbian and fears that parents might disown her if they find out)
I have no idea what to do. I dont own a single penny to my name.
I dont want to do UPSC. I dont like Ayurveda, but thats the only possible solution now. I have lost the mental ability to take a drop another year.
Parents are absolutely not ready for me to choose ANY other field,as its their money , their child so they get to decide. They have a reputation to make in front of all the relatives who bashed them and look down on them (my parents) for having only daughters,
Please guide me,
Thank You