Plant life cycle worksheet

Soo I was in an extremely rocky and abusive relationship for nearly two years. It ended at the start of the year but properly ended in March because I went to rehab. My ex didn’t want me to go but in the end pretended to “support” me.
I constantly was blocking him and he’d find a way to get in touch and I’d cave in and give in. This was the cycle we were stuck in for most of the relationship.
When I went to rehab, we exchanged pleasant messages and I said I’d speak to him In 30 days. He never contacted me and then on the 28th day I changed my number.
He is still in active addiction and I’m in recovery so it was never gonna work out. I associate him with drugs, we enabled each other also but I wanted to get better and clean.
He told me we could get back together but I said no, now my number has been changed and I blocked all his friends and family.
My life is peaceful but the last few days I’ve been struggling big time. My brains making me feel worthless and pathetic he’s not contacted me and I haven’t left the house properly today. I feel so upset, I don’t know why I care when I know he’s toxic.
I’m in shock and my egos dented because he hasn’t reached out. So please someone just give me a reality check.

This is my first time writing anything like this about my life so I'm sorry if it's too long as there's a lot to unpack and I want to just lay everything out to get the best advice to help my decision.
I come from a family of 6. There was me, my mother, father and three sisters. I'm the youngest and there's an 8 year gap between me and my sisters, who only have around a one year gap between each of them. Growing up it was always World War 3 in our house with them as when they were in their teens the three of them shared a room. The sister in question, "Sarah", is the middle in age of the three, "Winifred" the oldest and "Mary" the youngest.
Sarah has always been the least like any of us, we're all very different, both in personality and looks, it's been pointed out multiple times by friends how different we all are from each other, but Sarah has always carried an air of superiority I've never seen in the rest of my family.
The one trait me and my siblings share would be we all have/had put ourselves first, which can be a good thing but can lean into selfishness pretty easily, a problem that plagued my personality until I met my husband who helped me see the difference in putting myself first and being a selfish AH.
Sarah has never been the type to let anything go. She always brings up things that happened when my sisters were teenagers (they're all in their 40s now) along with embellishing or completely fabricating things that have happened that make her out to be completely blameless. She retells these story's over and over until she genuinely believes them and then throws a tantrum when one or more of us correct her. I remember arguments Sarah would have with my parents that always ended up with her storming out of the house, she tends to run away from problems.
Sarah and my mother have never seen eye to eye. In many ways they're too similar, always need the last word, headstrong, never apologizing, the need to always be right and they obsess way too much about what people think (in different ways, Sarah cares about how people/ strangers perceive her and her families manners/ social status and success, my mother is particularly obsessive on people knowing details about her personal life and is a very private person). It's always been my view that Sarah has always lacked my mother's warmth and her honesty (mostly to a fault but she would always try and spare someone's feelings and bite her tongue when she really needed to). Sarah's name calling about my other sisters was always a main spark to her and my mothers arguments.
Her and Winifred got on well for the most part from what I remember, and when we all got older she was fine to talk to. There were even a few times when my father was sick, myself, Sarah and Winifred had some bonding time which was nice.
Several years ago Mary was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia ( severely effects her central nervous system, can cause wide spread pain and can easily cause fatigue) and a few years ago she was diagnosed with cervical cancer. She had a full hysterectomy and the cancer seems to be a memory but this still wasn't enough for Sarah to not belittle Mary and her, what Sarah calls "life choices". Mary has struggled with her weight since she was a teenager and Sarah never held back in letting her know her opinions on it.
It's common knowledge in our family that Sarah has always been ashamed of where she comes from and would always be embarrassed by how my mother and Mary acted and spoke (little filter and Sarah considers this candour and how they speak "lower class" ). Mary has always Sarah's verbal punching bag, both to her face and behind her back but has always disliked when people, mainly my mother, would call her out and tell her to stop. The most recent example of this I was told about was that at my wedding, she made a nasty comment about the dress Mary was wearing. Months later my mother mentioned it in an argument to Sarah that her sister (my aunt) overheard Sarah's remarks and made a disapproving face. Sarah apparently just walked away from the conversation. The next day my aunt called my mother and asked that she "not be involved in my family's drama". My mother, confused asked her what she meant and my aunt said that Sarah drove (1.5 hours) to her house to confront her about it even though it happened just short of a year before.
For years our father had been desperately trying to get my mother to agree for them to move and downsize homes so they could enjoy their retirement with a little extra money but she was extremely reluctant to leave the family home due to a combination of leaving happy memories behind and being afraid of such a big change.
Then one day, Sarah offered to give up some of her land for them to live on as a cheaper option. I think we all agreed it was a good idea and we were all so surprised by what seemed to be generosity, it blindsided us all and we mistook it as her turning over a new leaf. Our father was all for the idea as him and Sarah agreed it was good to be near family in their golden years.
I replay my parents asking my advice on this over and over in my head, as in hindsight it was obviously an awful idea. But like Winifred and Mary, I agreed it would be the best move.
Their original idea was for them to get a tiny home and have it about 100 yards from Sarah's home. Sarah entertained that idea for a short while but convinced them a built small property attached to their home would be better.
The family home was nearly 2 hours drive away from Sarah's home so her and her husband took charge with contractors and overseen almost anything to do with the build if my parents couldn't make it.
The first quote, pre-build, they received was 50k. But in the end it tripled into 150k. Over the course of the build Sarah had changed things, the location of the front door, which was now facing the window to her home office (which is her main place of work), and back door, which changed to face the back of Sarah's house ( I know this all seems like major red flags but again, her and her husband convinced them it was to do with not damaging parts of her property and what seemed like other valid reasonings).
Cut to the house being built, selling the family home and them moving in, it wasn't long until our father became ill. First we noticed his memory wasn't as sharp as it was, then he had difficulty driving and had to stop completely. It was around this time and slightly after the sale of their house Sarah started pestering him for a loan. He told me this himself, at first it was suggesting they bring everyone on a big holiday, then it was saying it would be nice to give all their kids 20k and how it would be nice to see us enjoy it. She eventually wore him down and he loaned her 20k, I'm assuming to get her off his back. At some point after she booked a trip to New York, brought 2 suitcases, one of which was empty but came back with them both packed full. I know it was her business what she wanted the money for but even if it was for a shopping trip she could have had the decency to conceal it a bit better. She promised him time and time again she'd pay him back. He never seen a penny. Previous to this he offered Winifred the same amount as she was going through a divorce and it would have gone to a house for her to move out, she thanked him for offering but turned it down and said she'd be ok. She didn't tell him that it was because she thought it wasn't right to accept money from him knowing he was sick as he was a very proud man.
My father was the best man I've ever known. Incredibly down to earth, very open and friendly and could make friends at the drop of a hat. I remember a couple of vacations when we were kids. Thousands of miles from home he'd bump into old friends of his.
He was the kind of person who rarely got a cold so his decline was obvious to everyone. It was a year of being misdiagnosed until he was finally correctly diagnosed with stage four liver cancer, which had moved to his lung and towards the end, a part of his brain.
His last month was the worst time of my entire life. The arguments, the tears, My mother and one of my sisters (I can't remember who) caught covid so we had to juggle who could be where. It was also the first time in nearly 20 years all of us were together for longer than a day.
Myself and Winifred were lucky enough to have bosses that were very understanding and adjusted our schedules so we were given the month off to be with our family.
As I said Sarah works from home and sees clients from her home office. She maintained her regular work schedule while we were all meters away. I understand that was her choice but it seems like odd while our father was literally wasting away in his bed, especially since she works for herself so has a pretty good control of when she can work.
Our father was such a strong person. Every palliative nurse that came were more and more taken aback with each visit that he was still with us.
We all said our individual goodbyes and promises to look after each other when his condition had advanced too much not to, and the next morning, he passed.
He had a special relationship with all of us and things Sarah has said since his passing leads me to believe she thought hers was the only one that mattered.
The funeral ceremony was quick (as per his wishes). We elected Sarah to be the one to give the eulogy as the rest of us have anxiety issues with public speaking, but we read what she was going to say a few days before the ceremony. I was the first one to read what she wrote and noticed a bulk of the corrections were changing "My Dad" to "Our Dad", I wouldn't have mentioned it but there were even times even in conversation I would correct her on this, it may seem insignificant but it's just something that really bothered me. I mean when siblings talk about their parents to each other is normal to just say "mom" or "dad" to each other.
There was light food and drinks in a local bar afterwards. As there were so many arguments the previous month between Winifred, Sarah, Mary & my mother, me and my husband were really the only people making conversation with her and her husband, apart from the odd distant relative or two. A week or so later Sarah flew off to New York, something she tried to conceal from my mother but she forgot she mentioned it to her almost a year before. There was yet another huge argument between Winifred & Sarah when Sarah thought Winifred told my mother this big secret. This is another trait Sarah and my mother share, forgetting they say things and to whom. When asked why she was so mad if my mother knew she was going away was something along the lines of "Because I didn't want to give her any ammunition use and tell everyone at the funeral". My mother is a chronic complainer who has never seen the bigger picture in social situations, but she knows better than that. Plus she had just lost her husband of 46 years who was also her best friend of 50, something I think Sarah will never see
The last two years without our father have not gotten any better, Winifred was diagnosed with breast cancer, started chemo, then discovered it has spread to her other breast, all while looking after 2 teenagers with CF and going through a divorce to a deplorable human being who seems to take pleasure in making her miserable. When Sarah heard the news of the divorce she offered to attend court with her, Winifred told me she yelled at her and her representation for not saying enough in court and then later told my mother "I only helped her because she has cancer".
When going on vacation with her family Sarah told my mother days before there departure and I later found out her children caught chicken pox but she took them on the plane anyway. My mother does not drive and there is no stores that are easily accessible for her.
Sarah was also diagnosed with a cancerous tumor in her colon. Both have had treatments and they seem to be on the mend.
The relationship between Sarah and my mother did not get any better in fact Sarah's partner Billy became a reluctant go between for them both.
After our father passed, my mother asked Billy could her utility bills be altered as she was still paying half of everything, even though there was four people in their house (2 kids) and she was now on her own. His response was no and that her and our father agreed to split utilities evenly. We advised my mother to organize a pre-pay electric meter for her part of the house so she could manage it properly. Shortly after, Sarah and Billy stopped using the jacuzzi they recently purchased as it was too expensive for them to run.
One month my mother paid €400, the next month €200, 2 months later it was €500, there's no way a pensioner living on her own could rack up half of those bills (The average household here only gets their oil refilled once every 3-6 months). She also bought a free standing gas bottle heater in her main living area and had her upstairs radiators were turned off to try and limit the usage as she never really went up there. I will add that Sarahs business requires a somewhat constant use of energy so even a 50/50 split of bills seemed unfair. Since our fathers passing, my mother would also spend days at time either with me, Winifred or Mary, but she paid it anyway just to not have any arguments.
She made one small payment of about 4% of the total 20k to my mother before our father passed and laid out a payment plan to her about how much she'd pay each month. There were no further payments. A year later Sarahs family dog got seriously ill and needed a surgery that would cost 1300 and asked my mother to lend her this money & my mother, being soft hearted loaned it to her. She did make an attempt to pay my mother back but again, one small payment was made and no more. Each time my mother brought up the money she'd brush her off and not speak to her for a while. The longest was 3 weeks with zero contact, and remember, she lived right beside her and my mother doesn't drive and it would be impossible for her to walk to a store. If it weren't for Myself and Winifred constantly checking in my mother would have just rationed the food she had. We had suggested to arrange a food delivery in the past but Sarah and Billy didn't want strangers to know the code for the gate to the property, but knowing she hadn't spoken to our mother for 3 weeks and didn't care enough to ask if she needed anything in the store forced my hand to arrange one anyway.
Everything that's happened with Sarah has made us seriously re-think everything she said has happened in her life, and a pattern we've noticed is that she's pushed away all her serious partners family from them. Her first serious boyfriend of 7-8 years, then her ex husband and her current husband Billy. First it would start with their mother or sisters, small squabbles at here and there, then on a weekly basis, followed by a giant falling out which would result in her partners only seeing their family on occasion and eventually cutting contact. At the time we all took her at her word: their mothers didn't want their sons taken away, they were rude, they were jealous of her independence etc. But seeing her push us all away and seeing the same thing happen to us we all feel incredibly foolish.
Sarah has done and said some pretty horrible stuff over the years. I can't remember specific times or dates and some may seem trivial but these ones just stuck with me:
- When Winifred was fighting with my mother over something trivial, she suggested "keep your kids away from her (my mother), that will hurt her". She's always used her children under the guise of care anytime they had a disagreement, to try and manipulate the argument in her favour. On several occasions my mother would wave to them playing outside or walking by her window and they'd rapidly put their heads down as if being scolded, so god knows what Sarah has ben saying to them. While we were helping my mother was move out, my niece came inside and she was in tears because my mother was not there for her birthday a few weeks before. She asked her why she didn't come out to her, why she didn't see her on her birthday and asked why she was moving and if she still loved her. Taken aback when she heard this she said of course she told her she loved her and she always would, she told her once she has a phone she could call her every day if she wanted, she explained she needed to be somewhere she could go grocery shopping and have things close to her home. I wasn't thee for the whole interaction but when my niece left my mother said the things my niece said were things Sarah had said to my mother in the past verbatim.
- Bringing her kids on a plane to vacation while they (1 or both I can't remember) had chicken pox.
- Casually mentioning to my mother about money she has left from the sale of the house and what pension she’s getting and how much (some of my mothers post had gone missing)
- She once ran away from home when she was a teenager for several weeks because my parents gave her an 11PM curfew
- Always passing comment and keeping tally about how much her or her children received for birthdays or any kind of milestone event (most recently my aunt gave her son €30 and it was the first thing she mentioned when she talked about my aunt not staying until the end for her sons birthday, something along the lines of "€30? What can he buy with that?" He just turned 12 and we only see this aunt a couple of times a year. (Also I give all my nieces and nephews that amount for birthdays and Christmas so hearing this made me re-think all her past thank yous)
- Decades of berating Mary and putting her down, always about her weight or the way she acted (hyperactive, no filter etc)
- Admitting to Winifred that she decided to build a barrier at the end of her patio to make my mother take a less direct route and, in-turn, from "looking into her house" when she needed access the trash, but told us all it was a wind barrier. My mother has always preferred to keep her own blinds shut so she's usually adamant on not looking in other peoples houses.
- After divorcing her first husband my parents took her in until she had somewhere to live. Sarah was insistent on compensating them and our father eventually accepted as she wouldn't let it go. Months later during a heated argument she said they never cared for her, to which they argued that they recently asked her to live with them after her divorce, and without missing a beat she replied calmly "you were well paid for that"
-While our father was in decline he wasn't very verbal and his motor skills weren't the best, one time she brought her and her family out for waffles, she posted a photo of them in the car, and on inspection I noticed he is holding a knife, backwards trying to eat, I still think about this photo regularly because it just angers me that she mostly wanted to be seen taking care of him, without first seeing if he was even able to eat. She documents almost every activity her and her family do, which is fine, but it really calls into question if any of it is for the sake of the activity and trying to capture the moment for her family to remember, or just to be seen doing it. Another instance of this was each morning if it wasn't her turn to stay up for the night shift, the palliative care nurse would arrive Sarah would bring everyone breakfast, but if the nurse wasn't there there'd be nothing, which I know she didn't owe anyone and I shouldn't expect good deeds from people, but she'd also be in to see our father much later those days.
- Once my parents moved into the house, not a week had passed and her and Billy would say things such as "you know we're not your carers so if it comes to it you should have something arranged" and there was always snide comments about how they built their property on her kids play area, suggesting it was an inconvenience and big of her to let them build but I don't think she's ever thought how my parents chose to spend their retirement years with her and her kids. Both my parents had told me this and we were all appalled.
- While our father was unconscious towards the end, my mother just asked Billy about an additional €5 on her utility bill. He said the internet went up and my mother either just asked when or that she didn't know it increased. He left and then 20 minutes or so later, Sarah marched in and loudly exclaimed something like "Do you think Billly is a thief or something?!". This could normally be passed off as a somewhat regular family argument, but it was generally agreed between all of us that my father could still hear us. There were certain reactions when my mother would speak to him, or when I played him his favourite songs, so her choice to start a fight about this with our dying father inches away still infuriates me.
- My mother was an avid gardener, but when she got to Sarah's land she only allowed her to have 4 plant pots at the back of the house. So many times I remember waking up with her already outside, she'd have her visor on with dirt on her clothes waving to me in the kitchen. I've been asking her what plans she has for her garden now it's taking a lot of encouragement from the rest of us for her to get back into it now she has the space.
- When me and my sisters were alone while my father was sick, we were talking about my mother and how she would cope with life when my father passed. He was responsible for everything, bills being paid on time, insurance etc. Her finances came up and Winifred asked the room if she'll have enough coming in to live off. Sarah, with a combined covetous and grudging tone I'll never forget, listed off payments my mother would be getting and ended with a " so she'll be fine" and then scanned the room for our reactions. I immediately responded with "Oh thank god, I was so worried she'd be struggling", shocked by my relieved response she stared at me for a couple of seconds and then shifted to a softer tone "Oh yeah she'll be ok" then changed the subject. I know this is conjecture, but I know my sister. Her repeated mentioning of my parents money and her general obsession with how much people have, I know she was hoping for us all to join in on what I know would have been an acquisitive rant.
- Close to our fathers end, I could only bare to be at the top of his bed. It was too much for me too look at him. This shell of a person, who was so strong in life was now half his body weight and all my family in agony around him. When it got too much for me I'd ask someone (occasionally Sarah) to sit with him while I called my husband for support and to help me through it. I later found out she brought this up against me and said I was a wreck and kept running off and my sleep breaks were too long (I stayed up for 24-30 hours at a time so I was the only one to sleep more than 5 hours). Who is she to monitor how anyone grieves. She could go into Billy whenever it got too much so she had her support system right there.
I'm sure Sarah is a good mother to her children, as they're both always so happy and care free, but Sarah sees the rest of us all as this big stain on her life she's more than happy to wash out. She's said this in some form of another several times to my mother over the past few years, "I don't need any of you, I have my family, they're there for me". I've never been the most involved in all of my sister's life, but I always make sure to never miss a Christmas or birthday for them and I always send money or buy gifts for her children, I've sent her flowers when she was unwell and when she received her diagnosis, but with everything she's done even the idea of keeping up the pretence of civility puts a bad taste in my mouth.
My mother has recently bought a new house and looking at her it's like a light switch has turned back on. I haven't seen her so relaxed and happy since my father was alive. The years living on Sarah's land she barely decorated and never really got comfortable. But the same day of moving in the first thing she did was put up one or two stuffed animals and other trinkets. Our mother decided to keep buying a house a secret to not cause an argument with Sarah as it was too draining and Sarah would make an argument out of anything my mother said. When she had signed the papers she decided to message Sarah to tell her she was leaving (Sarah had decided to not speak with her at all and for months had only spoke to her through Billy, but if my mother was outside while Sarah was with a client she would wave and say hello to her) her response was very nonchalant with a "that's your decision" all of us expected a huge reaction as it was the norm.
A part of me thinks maybe this was her end game all along, not speaking to my mother, not helping her with groceries and never having time to knock on her door to see if she was even alive. Sarah's last words to my father while he was unconscious were that she was going to try and make it work with my mother and my mother promised the same. With 2 kids and a business to run she's always so busy so any text messages my mother would always sign off with "I'm her if you need me, you know I'm always here" and varying ways to let her know the ball was very much in Sarah's court. Myself, Mary and Winifred all have been visiting my mother from hours away so I don't know why she expects my mother to be the one walk 15 meters to her front door, one time my mother tried and she was greeted with Sarah's arm literally blocking the doorway to stop her from coming in. It's my view that Sarah's last words to my father were a complete and utter lie to him, a lie she can never take back or explain and I hope it haunts her.
The way Sarah has acted and the things she has said since my father’s passing it’s obvious she has warped the memory of who my dad was and it couldn't be more wrong. Being the youngest, quiet, and sort of on my own a lot growing up I was always a very observant person. My father worshiped my mother, they were best friends, did absolutely everything together, he always took her side about everything, every argument, every situation, he was her number one fan and it never faltered no matter what, they were always a united front. I know he would be incredibly ashamed and appalled of what Sarah and Billy have put my mother through, squeezing her for every penny, being incredibly cold and not even feigning that they care, although through outside sources she's painted a completely different picture, to which my mother and sisters have used pain remover each and every time. To Sarah, she lost her father and her father only. She is starting chemo soon and sources say things are looking better for her health wise but I'd still like advice.
Thank you.

All:
As I await my membership number [yes, still ongoing since mid-February but DIRUX has it finally, so perhaps soon], I've had ample time to read USCGA manuals, policies, directives, etc., as well as looking through back issues of Navigator and Navigator Express magazines.
In the Q1 2023 NAVEX issue, there was a statistic cited in the article "The Recruit, Train, and Mentor Cycle" that "More than 80% of current Auxiliarists are above 65 years of age, and with fewer and fewer prospective new members enrolling each month, we could be in trouble soon."
As I am 65, I fit right into the statistic! GrayandGrumpy had previously posted about the dwindling membership stats however the above puts a whole new light on the subject. I titled this post "Age Fatigue" as that sums up in my mind what the Auxiliary is facing. This is no knock against senior citizens and to the 80% of the Auxiliary serving, bravo and congratulations.
This is an alarming reality that is frankly a crisis level event in my mind. Using the membership stats cited in the magazine, there were 20,112 auxiliarists in the organization at the time of publication - that means just over 16,000 members are over 65 years of age. The combined life expectancy age in the USA for both male/female is 76.4 years. You all can do the math, but the attrition rate just based on life expectancy alone over the next few years will be significant. Think of it this way, how many of our Facilities [boats/aircraft/radio stations] are owned by the 80% group? I would guess a large number - how do those facilities get replaced as attrition occurs and declining recruiting numbers added on top of that.
I don't know what a "healthy" breakout of age dispersion should be in a volunteer organization such as the Auxiliary, but given the Mission and Mandates, it would seem the Auxiliary needs broader age diversification to meet all of the challenges.
The article sums it up best: "We are more than a boating club, expand your recruiting pool to match the changing needs of the organization. The Auxiliary of the future will include much more than the traditional surface operations and recreational boating missions, we need to diversify our talent pool if we mean to remain relevant to the Coast Guard’s missions."

Hey everybody. Going through a really difficult season of life currently and looking for some insight, encouragement, or advice even - really any feedback is welcome.
Background: M/37. No discernable problems with physical health/medical - labs always consistently good. HX of substance use disorder in recovery for 10 years. About 2 years into this sobriety journey (7-8 years ago give or take) I was diagnosed with primarily obsessional OCD triggered by the birth of my first child. The symptoms were hellish - intense intrusive thoughts that caused me a tremendous amount of distress. After suffering through this for about a year, at the behest of my friends and family I saw a psychiatrist and and psychologist. Started doing Exposure and Response prevention and was cycled through Prozac, Lexapro, finally landing on 50MG zoloft over about a 3-4 month time span ( they kept moving me due to side effect profile etc.)
The combination of therapy and zoloft brought me tremendous relief. I felt like I could breathe/live again. I was like a poster child for SSRI's as well: I had little to no side effects whatsoever from the low dose zoloft. The only thing I really noticed was some very mild delayed sexual function but it was completely workable and not debilitating.
My OCD symptoms completely resolved. Dissapated entirely. My psychiatrist encouraged me to keep taking the zoloft so I did. This went unchecked for 7-8 years. I took Zoloft diligently with no breaks at all during these years. I eventually discontinued therapy and basically dove in completely to family life and work - really only doing excercise as a form of self care plus some hobbies.
About 6 months ago I woke up wondering why I was still taking the zoloft since things had been so good for so long. I felt like the medication had begun to reduce my range of emotion slightly - like I wasn't full experiencing the breadth of human existence being on them. I don't know if this was a misguided thought or bullshit or what but as a result I consulted my psych NP and they hesitantly began tapering me off the medication. One month at half the dose. Another half month at half a dose and I felt so good that I just ditched the med completely and went med free despite the Psych NP not directing this. I understand now that this was probably not the best idea.
The first month went well. I felt pretty clear - and even like I had a more full range of emotion to access. This could be in my head but I felt like I was more loving and close with my family and friends. Unfortunately this was short lived: onto the bad shit.
After about a month completely med free I began to experience what I can only describe as fairly significant cognitive symptoms: short term memory problems, long term memory problems, forgetfulness, general disorganization of my thought process and reduced capacity to maintain my workload (I'm typically really solid with work) I became avoidant and lazy and just didn't feel like I had the same pep in my step that I'd had previously. Energy levels were lower and I started waking up in the morning with a feeling of existential type dread - concerned with mortalitiy, very negative self talk, speaking to and treating myself poorly. MY appetite decreased dramatically. My desire to excercise and get out and about reduced. My social anxiety went through the roof and I started feeling like I had trouble getting my thoughts out to people and speaking clearly and concisely. My hands would sweat when I had work meetings. I started to just tank basically.The only positives at this point that I can identify are that my sexual function was better than it had ever been in my life and my sleep quality felt like it improved drastically as well.
Anyway - I panicked and reacted. I tried to self re-instate my previous dose of zoloft - 50MG a day thinking that I'd just go right back to where I was before for all those years. I'm not sure if anyones had a similiar experience here but for whatever godforsaken damn reason IT DID NOT GO WELL AT ALL. Within a week I was experiecing every single SSRI side effect you could imagine: insomina, severely reduced sexual function and libido, fatigue, disinterested in life, flatness, emotional blunting, and most troublesome of all a pretty dramatic reduction in my visual acuity: severe dry eyes and blurry vision. Over the course of 9 weeks with a new provider I was placed down to 25 MG with no resolution of symptoms - flew back up to 50 shortly - and then to 75MG. During this time I was also put on Xanax .5MG Q6HR and Lunesta 1-2MG QHS for sleep. All I can say is that the the zoloft possibly mildly helped my anxiety symptoms but none of the above side effects resolved at all or got better.
The psychiatrist dumped the Zoloft and cross tapered me to Prozac. It has been about 9 weeks on prozac 10 to 20 to 30. The psychiatrist wants to keep increasing despite my protestation that the side effects are fucking me up. My vision is still shit - it drives me crazy (sidenote - I had a full medical exam from an opthamologist and other than having some mildy dry eyes he stated there is nothing medically acute happening with my eyes.) My sexual function is still reduced. I feel a bit calmer but still just sort of listless, going through the motions, disinterested, and sad. I have two beautiful young children, an outstanding job that pays well, and a loving wife. My presence has been so shitty through this whole entire thing that I'm just continuously beating myself up for putting my family through such a rough season of life and not having my full attention and love be with them if that makes sense - despite my wife being fairly understanding and patient with me through the entire thing so far.
I saw a new provider last week after my last suggested upping the dose again and adding adderall of all things to the mix. I don't want to go down that road being an addict in recovery and am already dissapointed that I've had to take xanax and lunesta. The new provider I saw was a specialist with over 30 years of exp and did a comprehensive eval with me. I advocated for myself, expressed my interest in being on the least amount of drugs possible and trying to treat this as holistically and naturally as I can. I also tried to ask questions about the symptoms I was having reference my vision and reference what my discontinution looked like initially after the DC of zoloft and she basically......pooh poohed me, said I need to be on medication for life, that I need to max out the doses of the drugs I take and that she had never heard of people having vision issues from SSRI's before. She then wrote me a script for Vilazodone and instructed me to do a rapid cross taper off the prozac onto the Vilazodone.
So here I am fellow redditors. I have the vilazodone but I have not taken it. I reduced the prozac from 30 to 20 about 5 days ago and feel a little foggy but still minimal improvement in side effect profile. I have become so remarkably averse to these drugs and modern psychiatry and am finding the prospect of tapering onto yet another drug terrifying. I am currently in CBT therapy weekly, am doing daily intense breakthwork/meditation, trying my best to journal, and getting some mild excercise.
I don't know what to do. I don't want to sacrifice my love life and vision for mild benefits to my anxiety and cognitive struggles. I don't want to max out doses and have the side effects increase. I desparately want to be free of this bullshit and move forward with my life but I have no idea what that looks like. Basically a dilemma if you will. I'm just looking for encouragement, advice, positive reinforcement, or even success stories of anyone who has been through something similiar and come off these damn drugs. As I mentioned before my faith in psychiatry has effectively been reduced so much through this. I just wanna be free, love my family, excel in my career, and get back to enjoying all the things I used to enjoy. Right now I'm just going through the motions.
My heart is with anyone struggling with mental illness or situations similiar to this. I hope so much today you feel loved, take the time to love yourself, and practice loving kindness in all you do. I fucking get how hard this stuff is and how hard it can be on the people around you: the guilt, the shame, the negative self talk, the feeling of defeat, and everything that comes along with it. I love ya'll have a blessed day today and thank you so much in advance for any feedback/encouragement/advice you may have for me today I really need and appreciate it! Sorry for the epic length of this post.

Have you ever felt this way?
I’m looking at someone else’s night sky through someone else’s dirty window without recognizing a single star in a space of someone else’s time. I’m in someone else’s house, breathing someone else’s air, and making love to someone else’s hallucination on someone else’s bed that has a sense of someone else in her sheet that she never washed. I’m looking in the mirror, seeing someone else’s face over mine and someone else’s thoughts fixating inside of my mind. I’m going insane, trapped in someone else’s madness, imprisoned inside of someone else’s wasted life.
I dream of someone else’s dreams, where someone else’s unrealistic ecstasy of heaven pushes me deeper into my own personal hell that is real. In the middle of the night, I see someone else’s nightmares and ramblings about someone else’s self-destruction. I live in someone else’s fantasy that suffocates me in the ocean of banality where everything is shallow, even her love. I’m working someone else’s job, getting someone else’s promotion, having someone else’s illusion of happiness, and this happiness makes me want to smash my head against the wall.
I’ve been walking the same road over and over again, but when I looked back, I left no trace on its surface.
After making love to her, I knew right away that she belonged to someone else because in her eyes, I saw his reflection and this reflection had a laugh of a winner in it. I have someone else’s life that I’m trying forcefully to fit in by twisting my bones into shapeless ugliness of the current trend. I say the words that belong to someone else, and I don’t know any longer the definition of those words. I write the prose that is not mine, and therefore I cannot understand the meaning of it. I read poetry of someone else’s love knowing I won’t feel a thing since my heart in someone else’s chest falling in love with someone I have no clue about.
The sun above my head belongs to someone else while I’m freezing in the shadow that belongs to me. Someone punched someone in the head, but I felt this someone else’s pain. She broke up with someone, destroying his heart while I own the tears in someone else’s eyes. Every time when I touch her skin, the fingers I touch her with belong to someone else. Every time when I kiss her mouth, the lips I kiss her with are not mine.
I speak the language I do not understand, and the language I do understand I don’t speak. I believe in someone else’s God that keeps punishing me for the sins I did not commit. I’m praying, planting the roots of someone else’s faith among this vast emptiness inside of me. I have someone else’s love in me; I’d like to give it back to her, but I can’t find her among the crowd of identical desires.
There’s nothing in this world that belongs to me; everything I touch belongs to someone else. I’m just a shadow that’s slowly dying under someone else’s rising sun. I’m the night that cannot survive the dawn of her day.
Visit my Blog
​

Hey everybody. Going through a really difficult season of life currently and looking for some insight, encouragement, or advice even - really any feedback is welcome.
Background: M/37. No discernable problems with physical health/medical - labs always consistently good. HX of substance use disorder in recovery for 10 years. About 2 years into this sobriety journey (7-8 years ago give or take) I was diagnosed with primarily obsessional OCD triggered by the birth of my first child. The symptoms were hellish - intense intrusive thoughts that caused me a tremendous amount of distress. After suffering through this for about a year, at the behest of my friends and family I saw a psychiatrist and and psychologist. Started doing Exposure and Response prevention and was cycled through Prozac, Lexapro, finally landing on 50MG zoloft over about a 3-4 month time span ( they kept moving me due to side effect profile etc.)
The combination of therapy and zoloft brought me tremendous relief. I felt like I could breathe/live again. I was like a poster child for SSRI's as well: I had little to no side effects whatsoever from the low dose zoloft. The only thing I really noticed was some very mild delayed sexual function but it was completely workable and not debilitating.
My OCD symptoms completely resolved. Dissapated entirely. My psychiatrist encouraged me to keep taking the zoloft so I did. This went unchecked for 7-8 years. I took Zoloft diligently with no breaks at all during these years. I eventually discontinued therapy and basically dove in completely to family life and work - really only doing excercise as a form of self care plus some hobbies.
About 6 months ago I woke up wondering why I was still taking the zoloft since things had been so good for so long. I felt like the medication had begun to reduce my range of emotion slightly - like I wasn't full experiencing the breadth of human existence being on them. I don't know if this was a misguided thought or bullshit or what but as a result I consulted my psych NP and they hesitantly began tapering me off the medication. One month at half the dose. Another half month at half a dose and I felt so good that I just ditched the med completely and went med free despite the Psych NP not directing this. I understand now that this was probably not the best idea.
The first month went well. I felt pretty clear - and even like I had a more full range of emotion to access. This could be in my head but I felt like I was more loving and close with my family and friends. Unfortunately this was short lived: onto the bad shit.
After about a month completely med free I began to experience what I can only describe as fairly significant cognitive symptoms: short term memory problems, long term memory problems, forgetfulness, general disorganization of my thought process and reduced capacity to maintain my workload (I'm typically really solid with work) I became avoidant and lazy and just didn't feel like I had the same pep in my step that I'd had previously. Energy levels were lower and I started waking up in the morning with a feeling of existential type dread - concerned with mortalitiy, very negative self talk, speaking to and treating myself poorly. MY appetite decreased dramatically. My desire to excercise and get out and about reduced. My social anxiety went through the roof and I started feeling like I had trouble getting my thoughts out to people and speaking clearly and concisely. My hands would sweat when I had work meetings. I started to just tank basically.The only positives at this point that I can identify are that my sexual function was better than it had ever been in my life and my sleep quality felt like it improved drastically as well.
Anyway - I panicked and reacted. I tried to self re-instate my previous dose of zoloft - 50MG a day thinking that I'd just go right back to where I was before for all those years. I'm not sure if anyones had a similiar experience here but for whatever godforsaken damn reason IT DID NOT GO WELL AT ALL. Within a week I was experiecing every single SSRI side effect you could imagine: insomina, severely reduced sexual function and libido, fatigue, disinterested in life, flatness, emotional blunting, and most troublesome of all a pretty dramatic reduction in my visual acuity: severe dry eyes and blurry vision. Over the course of 9 weeks with a new provider I was placed down to 25 MG with no resolution of symptoms - flew back up to 50 shortly - and then to 75MG. During this time I was also put on Xanax .5MG Q6HR and Lunesta 1-2MG QHS for sleep. All I can say is that the the zoloft possibly mildly helped my anxiety symptoms but none of the above side effects resolved at all or got better.
The psychiatrist dumped the Zoloft and cross tapered me to Prozac. It has been about 9 weeks on prozac 10 to 20 to 30. The psychiatrist wants to keep increasing despite my protestation that the side effects are fucking me up. My vision is still shit - it drives me crazy (sidenote - I had a full medical exam from an opthamologist and other than having some mildy dry eyes he stated there is nothing medically acute happening with my eyes.) My sexual function is still reduced. I feel a bit calmer but still just sort of listless, going through the motions, disinterested, and sad. I have two beautiful young children, an outstanding job that pays well, and a loving wife. My presence has been so shitty through this whole entire thing that I'm just continuously beating myself up for putting my family through such a rough season of life and not having my full attention and love be with them if that makes sense - despite my wife being fairly understanding and patient with me through the entire thing so far.
I saw a new provider last week after my last suggested upping the dose again and adding adderall of all things to the mix. I don't want to go down that road being an addict in recovery and am already dissapointed that I've had to take xanax and lunesta. The new provider I saw was a specialist with over 30 years of exp and did a comprehensive eval with me. I advocated for myself, expressed my interest in being on the least amount of drugs possible and trying to treat this as holistically and naturally as I can. I also tried to ask questions about the symptoms I was having reference my vision and reference what my discontinution looked like initially after the DC of zoloft and she basically......pooh poohed me, said I need to be on medication for life, that I need to max out the doses of the drugs I take and that she had never heard of people having vision issues from SSRI's before. She then wrote me a script for Vilazodone and instructed me to do a rapid cross taper off the prozac onto the Vilazodone.
So here I am fellow redditors. I have the vilazodone but I have not taken it. I reduced the prozac from 30 to 20 about 5 days ago and feel a little foggy but still minimal improvement in side effect profile. I have become so remarkably averse to these drugs and modern psychiatry and am finding the prospect of tapering onto yet another drug terrifying. I am currently in CBT therapy weekly, am doing daily intense breakthwork/meditation, trying my best to journal, and getting some mild excercise.
I don't know what to do. I don't want to sacrifice my love life and vision for mild benefits to my anxiety and cognitive struggles. I don't want to max out doses and have the side effects increase. I desparately want to be free of this bullshit and move forward with my life but I have no idea what that looks like. Basically a dilemma if you will. I'm just looking for encouragement, advice, positive reinforcement, or even success stories of anyone who has been through something similiar and come off these damn drugs. As I mentioned before my faith in psychiatry has effectively been reduced so much through this. I just wanna be free, love my family, excel in my career, and get back to enjoying all the things I used to enjoy. Right now I'm just going through the motions.
My heart is with anyone struggling with mental illness or situations similiar to this. I hope so much today you feel loved, take the time to love yourself, and practice loving kindness in all you do. I fucking get how hard this stuff is and how hard it can be on the people around you: the guilt, the shame, the negative self talk, the feeling of defeat, and everything that comes along with it. I love ya'll have a blessed day today and thank you so much in advance for any feedback/encouragement/advice you may have for me today I really need and appreciate it! Sorry for the epic length of this post.

Hey everybody. Going through a really difficult season of life currently and looking for some insight, encouragement, or advice even - really any feedback is welcome.
Background: M/37. No discernable problems with physical health/medical - labs always consistently good. HX of substance use disorder in recovery for 10 years. About 2 years into this sobriety journey (7-8 years ago give or take) I was diagnosed with primarily obsessional OCD triggered by the birth of my first child. The symptoms were hellish - intense intrusive thoughts that caused me a tremendous amount of distress. After suffering through this for about a year, at the behest of my friends and family I saw a psychiatrist and and psychologist. Started doing Exposure and Response prevention and was cycled through Prozac, Lexapro, finally landing on 50MG zoloft over about a 3-4 month time span ( they kept moving me due to side effect profile etc.)
The combination of therapy and zoloft brought me tremendous relief. I felt like I could breathe/live again. I was like a poster child for SSRI's as well: I had little to no side effects whatsoever from the low dose zoloft. The only thing I really noticed was some very mild delayed sexual function but it was completely workable and not debilitating.
My OCD symptoms completely resolved. Dissapated entirely. My psychiatrist encouraged me to keep taking the zoloft so I did. This went unchecked for 7-8 years. I took Zoloft diligently with no breaks at all during these years. I eventually discontinued therapy and basically dove in completely to family life and work - really only doing excercise as a form of self care plus some hobbies.
About 6 months ago I woke up wondering why I was still taking the zoloft since things had been so good for so long. I felt like the medication had begun to reduce my range of emotion slightly - like I wasn't full experiencing the breadth of human existence being on them. I don't know if this was a misguided thought or bullshit or what but as a result I consulted my psych NP and they hesitantly began tapering me off the medication. One month at half the dose. Another half month at half a dose and I felt so good that I just ditched the med completely and went med free despite the Psych NP not directing this. I understand now that this was probably not the best idea.
The first month went well. I felt pretty clear - and even like I had a more full range of emotion to access. This could be in my head but I felt like I was more loving and close with my family and friends. Unfortunately this was short lived: onto the bad shit.
After about a month completely med free I began to experience what I can only describe as fairly significant cognitive symptoms: short term memory problems, long term memory problems, forgetfulness, general disorganization of my thought process and reduced capacity to maintain my workload (I'm typically really solid with work) I became avoidant and lazy and just didn't feel like I had the same pep in my step that I'd had previously. Energy levels were lower and I started waking up in the morning with a feeling of existential type dread - concerned with mortalitiy, very negative self talk, speaking to and treating myself poorly. MY appetite decreased dramatically. My desire to excercise and get out and about reduced. My social anxiety went through the roof and I started feeling like I had trouble getting my thoughts out to people and speaking clearly and concisely. My hands would sweat when I had work meetings. I started to just tank basically.The only positives at this point that I can identify are that my sexual function was better than it had ever been in my life and my sleep quality felt like it improved drastically as well.
Anyway - I panicked and reacted. I tried to self re-instate my previous dose of zoloft - 50MG a day thinking that I'd just go right back to where I was before for all those years. I'm not sure if anyones had a similiar experience here but for whatever godforsaken damn reason IT DID NOT GO WELL AT ALL. Within a week I was experiecing every single SSRI side effect you could imagine: insomina, severely reduced sexual function and libido, fatigue, disinterested in life, flatness, emotional blunting, and most troublesome of all a pretty dramatic reduction in my visual acuity: severe dry eyes and blurry vision. Over the course of 9 weeks with a new provider I was placed down to 25 MG with no resolution of symptoms - flew back up to 50 shortly - and then to 75MG. During this time I was also put on Xanax .5MG Q6HR and Lunesta 1-2MG QHS for sleep. All I can say is that the the zoloft possibly mildly helped my anxiety symptoms but none of the above side effects resolved at all or got better.
The psychiatrist dumped the Zoloft and cross tapered me to Prozac. It has been about 9 weeks on prozac 10 to 20 to 30. The psychiatrist wants to keep increasing despite my protestation that the side effects are fucking me up. My vision is still shit - it drives me crazy (sidenote - I had a full medical exam from an opthamologist and other than having some mildy dry eyes he stated there is nothing medically acute happening with my eyes.) My sexual function is still reduced. I feel a bit calmer but still just sort of listless, going through the motions, disinterested, and sad. I have two beautiful young children, an outstanding job that pays well, and a loving wife. My presence has been so shitty through this whole entire thing that I'm just continuously beating myself up for putting my family through such a rough season of life and not having my full attention and love be with them if that makes sense - despite my wife being fairly understanding and patient with me through the entire thing so far.
I saw a new provider last week after my last suggested upping the dose again and adding adderall of all things to the mix. I don't want to go down that road being an addict in recovery and am already dissapointed that I've had to take xanax and lunesta. The new provider I saw was a specialist with over 30 years of exp and did a comprehensive eval with me. I advocated for myself, expressed my interest in being on the least amount of drugs possible and trying to treat this as holistically and naturally as I can. I also tried to ask questions about the symptoms I was having reference my vision and reference what my discontinution looked like initially after the DC of zoloft and she basically......pooh poohed me, said I need to be on medication for life, that I need to max out the doses of the drugs I take and that she had never heard of people having vision issues from SSRI's before. She then wrote me a script for Vilazodone and instructed me to do a rapid cross taper off the prozac onto the Vilazodone.
So here I am fellow redditors. I have the vilazodone but I have not taken it. I reduced the prozac from 30 to 20 about 5 days ago and feel a little foggy but still minimal improvement in side effect profile. I have become so remarkably averse to these drugs and modern psychiatry and am finding the prospect of tapering onto yet another drug terrifying. I am currently in CBT therapy weekly, am doing daily intense breakthwork/meditation, trying my best to journal, and getting some mild excercise.
I don't know what to do. I don't want to sacrifice my love life and vision for mild benefits to my anxiety and cognitive struggles. I don't want to max out doses and have the side effects increase. I desparately want to be free of this bullshit and move forward with my life but I have no idea what that looks like. Basically a dilemma if you will. I'm just looking for encouragement, advice, positive reinforcement, or even success stories of anyone who has been through something similiar and come off these damn drugs. As I mentioned before my faith in psychiatry has effectively been reduced so much through this. I just wanna be free, love my family, excel in my career, and get back to enjoying all the things I used to enjoy. Right now I'm just going through the motions.
My heart is with anyone struggling with mental illness or situations similiar to this. I hope so much today you feel loved, take the time to love yourself, and practice loving kindness in all you do. I fucking get how hard this stuff is and how hard it can be on the people around you: the guilt, the shame, the negative self talk, the feeling of defeat, and everything that comes along with it. I love ya'll have a blessed day today and thank you so much in advance for any feedback/encouragement/advice you may have for me today I really need and appreciate it! Sorry for the epic length of this post.

I was thinking, if there was a region based on life and death and they had their own starters what would they be? After thinking for i while i decided on Litwick and Budew. Litwick because it absorbs life energy and fits the three evo. fire type. Budew because plants give life to many things and it is also a 3 stage evo. But I could not think of a duo type water pokemon with three evolutions that fit the theme. Can someone help me out here.

Hi everyone. I’ve been playing for the last few weeks since the show came out and i’m completely obsessed with the game. Have gotten to over level 160 in less than 2 weeks by ignoring real life responsibilities but hey, that’s not the point of this post!
I’ve been running mostly a bloodied commando build, not because it’s the meta, but because I think flying around a corner with marsupial and effortlessly popping off heads in VATS is fun. That being said, I’ve also made a power armor chainsaw/auto axe (when I get it) build and would eventually like to make a heavy gunner build too.
So here is my dilemma. I can’t decide between herbivore and carnivore. I got the mirelurk steamer when it was on sale with 11 minutes left in the shop because I saw someone here suggest it. I’ve been loving the buffs and would love to make them even better. I’ve also learned about how useful a lot of the plant food buffs would be though and now i’m just conflicted. For my commando, it seems herbivore buffs would be great, but for my melee build it seems carnivore would be great. I’m tempted to just pick carnivore since it would make food easy. I already have the mirelurk steamer and meat seems easier to get than hunting for plants. What do you all suggest to get as a mutation for someone that switches builds and couldn’t be bothered with changing mutations? That seems like a lot of hassle and really expensive every time I want to change builds.
Thanks for any tips you can give me :)

Gravediggers. Corpse Grinders. Skull Takers. Every unit that shared his profession had a name that was like that. As Corporal Brandy floated silently, his body suspended in a dense salt water based solution alongside eleven of his peers, he once again thought how he liked the name of his unit the best. Ghouls. His arms were stretched out, as were his legs, secured to four corners of the hull leaving him splayed open. His wrists were tethered, his ankles were tethered, all to keep him from drifting. The water was cold, felt even through the suit even though it didn’t touch him. It was only appropriate they called vessels like the one he was in Coffins. It was long, with seven feet between floor and ceiling when one could stand in it.
The patch of his unit was a zombified corpse, walking towards the one viewing it, with their arm outstretched, a large 17 behind the shambling figure. It was laser etched on the left shoulder guard of his SVS51 body suit, the symbol of the Terran Front of laser etched on the right. Right now, Brandy knew he was flying through the void, heading towards the wreck of a Vral Light Cruiser, his unit’s speciality. A countdown on the upper left corner of his vision was reaching the single digits. No one talked, not even the squad leader. Not even command. Brandy liked it like that. He had been selected for special operations early on in his life, as most operators were. Sure, you could volunteer to join if you joined the Fleet and decided to test yourself, but most humans were already training for something like this by the age of thirteen. Jesup, one of his squadmates, he was a joiner, one that had volunteered when he was signing up. Brandy though? Brandy was a lifer.
Lifers like him were singled out in school and made aware of their tentative selection. Lifers were trained harder, tested harder. No one really minded Jesup not going through what they had been through, but it did mark him out. Hence the term, but lifers and joiners all got the same specialized training. Five seconds left. Brandy knew his job well, knew the layout of the ship well. Four seconds. Brandy clenched his fists. He felt the liquid shift, knowing their craft had hit the hull. Suddenly he was free of his constraints, floating free in the dense salt water. There was a bright light from the front of the craft, the plasma torches already burning into the Vral light cruiser hull. Three seconds. The dense salt water solution suddenly was sucked into the floor, drawing him down. He tapped his heels together, hearing an automated voice call out ‘Maglocks Engaged’, just before his feet touched the deck. He was already yanking the protective cover off of his rifle, slinging it back over his back. Two seconds. Those in the front of the line had their rifles up and ready. Brandy on the other hand, reached to his sides and drew out two long blades from sheathes locked to his thighs.
One.
He felt the compression in his chest as the breaching charge detonated, and the segmented doors of the Coffin opened. The first four Ghouls entered, no shots fired as they cleared the room. He heard a soft whisper saying, “Depressurized.” The entire deck was without atmosphere. Brandy looked to his left, and nodded once. Jesup nodded back. The pair in front of them sprinted out. Jessup and Brandy sprinted out immediately after them, Brandy drawing his blades. The interior of the Vral ship was a dismal place, and within just seconds Brandy knew what kept their grav plates powered was already down. The difference in design priorities from the Vral to the Terran Front could be seen even from the hallway they were running down. The Terran Front fleet was designed to maximize the space they had, to deliver the most punch possible for the weight class the ship in question could hit with. The chua had lent their practicality to that level of ship design. It was why the standard Terran corvette could fight completely out of it’s weight class. Brandy knew that the standard Terran corvette was more than a match for any variety of Vral destroyer, it was even said that a light cruiser would have to go blow for blow with one.
Most who heard that wouldn’t understand until they saw what Brandy was seeing now. Terran hallways were built narrow, the space an artery for personnel to move through in a very direct way. The ceilings would be laced with piping and joists, covered by protective layers of material just in case an impact threw the crew against the ceiling. Standing shoulder to shoulder, even battleship halls on Terran ships only allowed two large humans to stand shoulder to shoulder and extend their elbows halfway to touch the walls. This hallway was broad, four, no, five times the width. You would never see such a waste of space onboard a Terran fighting ship. The only exceptions to this were the larger logistics ships, the carriers, and the Antares herself. Terran ship tonnage was dedicated purely to what the ship in question was made to do. Vral ships, on the other hand, seemed to be built to not just fight space conflicts, but carry the troops for ground assault. The Vral sacrificed tonnage meant for fighting for transport. They did not have dedicated troop ships, or even dedicated logistics ships.
Brandy guessed it made sense when you never had to worry about someone being able to really hit back.
The map of the light cruiser was laid out in wireframe in the upper right of his HUD, a pulsing arrow pointing his way. As they reached the first door it was clear that whatever powered the lights also powered the doors in this section. He sheathed the blades and raised his rifle as Jessup pulled his breach bar. A moment later Jessup applied the handheld pneumatic and nodded once to Brandy, who gave an almost imperceptible nod back. Jesseup pressed an activation stud, and Brandy breathed out as the door began to open. A brief glimpse of chitin was all it took for Brandy to immediately put two shells through the door, the only audible evidence of the shots being two ticks from the recoil traveling along his armor plate. .
“Contact.” Brandy whispered even as the shells tore through the Vral floating behind the door. The Vral flew away from the impact as the door opened further, revealing more Vral, all floating, all already dead. “KIA Vral.” He whispered into the mic within his helmet. A small tone let him know his information was received. Brandy and Jessup moved into the hallway and saw why the Vral were all already dead. There was a gash in the hull almost three meters long and a meter wide. The deck had been exposed to the vacuum, and judging by the hole further down the hall which Brandy glanced through as they passed, a railgun round from a cruiser had lanced straight through the entire hull. Brandy slung his rifle and began the halting half run, half jog of moving quickly on magnetized boots. Brandy cleared an adjoining hallway before looking back to the door. The Vral dead were everywhere, floating in the vacuum, and Brandy kept having to shove the floating corpses aside as he moved. The dead didn’t stop him. They didn’t stop Jessup either.
Jessup was already setting the breacher, and Brandy’s rifle was unslung and readied. As this door opened a forcefield came to life in front of it, and a sliver of light began to show through. Brandy’s thumb flipped his rifle from semi-automatic to full. He didn’t need to speak, Jessup was already pulling his own rifle. As the door was suddenly shoved open by the pneumatic Brandy’s entire body snapped forward. The Vral that was standing by the door, who had even watched it open, made it clear that the Vral didn’t even know they had been boarded. Brandy’s rifle butt slammed into the head of the Vral, and sound returned as he moved fully through the forcefield meant to keep atmospheric integrity but not keep him out. Beyond it, Brandy saw at least twenty milling around. A damage control team. The Vral turned to the sound of one of their own skulls caving in, chitin cracking, just to see Brandy’s barrel come down. He was already moving left to give Jessup room to enter, as he squeezed the trigger. Chitin and ichor erupted, the Vral leapt at the sound, some freezing in place, some charging. Jessup came around the corner, raising his rifle, taking single shots at individual Vral who reached for weapons even as Brandy’s fully automatic spray swept the hall. Brandy was the scythe, Jessup was the surgeon.
Brandy’s ammo counter quickly was cycling down, but he hadn’t been simply praying and spraying. As his counter read zero the last of the Vral was spasming violently on the floor. He thumbed the magazine release, the hand on his grip already having reached for his right hip to draw up a fresh magazine even as the empty one slid out and began falling to the floor. “I’m close.” He said. He slammed the new magazine into the rifle, racked the slide, then slid it behind his back. He drew his blades, then began to sprint.
“I’m far.” Jessup began sprinting behind him.
The next set of doors opened automatically this time, but to a familiar scene, but the Vral were already aware of them due to Brandy having firmly announced their presence in the previous hall. Brandy never stopped his full sprint, carving through the Vral with the edges of his monomolecular blades. Every so often a shot rang out, taking one of the Vral down just out of Brandy’s reach or one that was pulling up a weapon. Brandy used the suit’s speed and strength enhancements to their fullest, barely slowing as he tore through the group, both blades cutting. Suddenly he heard the retort of full auto and spun to decapitate one of the remaining Vral to look as Jessup was emptying his magazine into an open door. Brandy let both blades drop, popping his hip to the side and curling his waist, letting the weight of his rifle carry it around his body into his hands. As the Vral tried to come into the hall they were cut down, caught in a fatal funnel of fire by their own hatchway.
“Reload.” Jessup said, tucking himself back against the wall. “Control, need sweepers. My location.” A tone was the only reply to Jessup’s words. Twelve men, organized into six teams. That was the boarding party. Each had a part to play, and as Jessup made the call for sweepers Brandy was already preparing to move. As Jessup slapped a fresh magazine into his rifle Brandy was still covering the door. The other doors in the hall remained closed. Jessup reached to a small bandolier of grenades and pulled one of the X-04 flashbangs, throwing it hard through the door against the opposing wall. A second later a dull pop sounded. Brandy and Jessup continued their run, but now both had slung their rifles. Both had blades out.
Following the skeleton map on his HUD, Brandy led the way through the next door to find the hallway empty. He didn’t mind that state of affairs at all. A dull klaxon began to sound throughout the crippled ship, and neither Brandy nor Jessup needed to be told twice that the Vral were now more than aware they had been boarded. Brandy turned down a corridor, instinctively lashing out and taking the head off a Vral had been moving towards him. “Breaching bridge.” He said into his microphone, hearing the tone of acknowledgement from Control as he saw the large bay doors that marked the command and control center of the Vral vessel they intended to take. He sheathed a blade as he came to a stop beside the bay door, out of range of the motion sensor that would open it automatically. Jessup was right behind him, freeing a hand of his own. They both reached up, yanking X-04 grenades off their pins banded to their armor. Brandy and Jessup looked at each other and nodded. As Brandy kicked out his foot to trigger the motion sensor, the door slid open. A torrent of laser fire erupted from the doorway, painting the floor and wall beyond. Brandy snapped his arm around, exposing only his hand as he threw the flashbang around the corner. Jessup’s own flashbang flew past Brandy towards the other side of the room. They both immediately pulled a second, even as the first detonated in the room beyond. Almost instantly the weapon’s fire stopped, and wails of chittering echoed into the hallway. They threw the second set of flashbangs into the door.
As the second pair of dull crunches sounded, Brandy and Jessup breached the bridge. The bridge was arrayed like a bowl, stations arranged orbiting a center divot in the deck where the captain would stand. None of the Vral in the room were standing. While flashbangs disoriented humans, essentially stunning them into stupfication, the same flashbangs had even more pronounced effects on the Vral. Most of them were simply laid out on the ground, completely insensate, and screaming incoherently in their chittering tones. Brandy and Jessup had entered having expected at least one of them to have donned protection, perhaps even a warsuit, but their boarding had caught the Vral completely by surprise. Jessup turned to the door, tapping the control panel and closing, then locking it. Brandy had already begun moving from station to station. Jessup joined him as they quickly and methodically dispatched the crew. Brandy turned and moved down into the captain’s pit, coming to the Vral that had commanded the ship.
“Attempting to access.” Jessup said, stepping to one of the panels even as Brandy reached the side of the Vral commander. Brandy watched dispassionately as the Vral’s body curled and spasmed on the ground. Without replying to Jessup, Brandy was already securing the commander. He flipped the commander over on it’s back, yanking it’s limbs together and zip tying them together.
“Control. Commander secured alive. Bridge secured.” Brandy said, and he glanced over to Jessup. Jessup looked over to him and grinned, his teeth showing through the dark tint of the armored glass of his helmet. A tone of acknowledgement came into his helmet. Brandy moved to the panels, just as Jessup was moving. “Anything yet?” He asked, letting his suit’s speakers carry his voice.
Jessup moved to another panel. “Nope. Wiped.” He said.
Brandy brought the panel to live and was already moving on, and cursed silently under his breath. Several times teams like his had breached the bridge of a Vral ship only to find what they were finding now, wiped computer cores, dead panels. Brandy continued to move panel to panel, as did Jessup, moving up the bowl. Brandy heard Jessup muttering as he went, his voice carrying because of the speakers in his suit. Brandy glanced up at the other man, then continued with his work.
“Doesn’t make any sense. We still know nothing about these bastards. Nothing.” Jessup said as he was working on the last panel on the row he was on. “Aside from the fact they melt their cores down really well.” Brandy smirked behind the tinted glass of his helmet as Jessup balled up a fist. Jessup moved up a row, then started work on another panel. “I’m beginning to think the only thing they exist for is to piss off the universe.”
Brandy couldn’t argue with that, and Jessup stopped his grumbling, continuing to check the panels.
“Control, Sweep Two is down. I repeat. Sweep Two is down.” Brandy stopped in his checks and looked up, the voice of Talb in his ear from possibly the same location he had called for sweepers to come in. He hadn’t heard a call for sweepers from anywhere else.
“That’s Vlad.” Jessup said, his voice flat, having paused himself to listen in.
“Confirm.” A woman’s voice hit Brandy’s ear, and Jessup began walking across the bowl towards him. Brandy settled his hands on the panel that he had paused midway through working. The woman’s voice keyed back into his ear, their Control, and Brandy listened intently. “Prep Sweep Two for extraction. Sweep Three and Four enroute.”
Jessup reached his side and put his hand on Brandy’s shoulder. The silence in his ears now was deafening, and he knew he should be continuing on, checking the rest of the stations, but he couldn’t move his feet right now. Brandy and Vlad were close, they had gone through basic together, they had gone through Advanced Infantry, as well as Weapons and Tactics, hell, all of their advanced training schools. When orders had come through, they had both been delighted to have twin assignments to the 17th Breacher Corps “Ghouls.” Vlad had met Brandy’s family, his mother, his father, even his ice queen of a sister who was serving as a Drone Cutter pilot. Vlad was his friend, the brother that he had never had, and now Vlad was down, somewhere on this hellhole of a ship, unable to even communicate that he was injured.
Jessup stood by him, saying nothing, and Brandy’s eyes were focused on something far in the distance, something he couldn’t even see right now. Suddenly, like his mind was pulling itself from mud, he forced himself to continue working. Jessup stayed by his side. There was nothing he could do for Vlad right now, nothing at all, and he had work in front of him that needed to be finished. Jessup went back to the stations he was working through. Brandy finished the sweep of the panels on his side. Nothing, as was usual.
He walked down the bowl shape of the Vral bridge, standing next to the Vral commander, who was now very much aware and awake, not struggling as it lay on the floor of the carnal house that was the bridge of it’s ship. He ignored it, placing his hands on the hilts of the twin swords at his sides. Jessup continued his work, a little slower than Brandy was, but then again Jessup was newer than Brandy himself was to this sort of thing. Brandy had already served for nearly eight years, and had done the tear down from the sixth Vral war, alongside Vlad. Brandy grunted and pulled up his arm, opening one of the armor plates to reveal the communications controls for his suit. He set up a private channel to Control.
“Control, BT One. Status of Sweep Two?” He asked, and he heard two clicks in response. He was being transferred to another operator. Brandy felt his entire body tensing up. He didn’t know if being transferred was a good or a bad sign.
“Bridge Team One, this is Secondary. Sweep Two is stable. Sweep One is prepping him for extraction. He took an indirect hit by a plasma round to his left shoulder. His suit took the majority but he’s going to be in the burn unit.”
Brandy breathed out, and then nodded once to himself. “Thank you Secondary.” He heard a tone in response, then he set himself back to team communications. Vlad was alive. That was good enough.
“The void will take you.” He heard the chittering sound translated, and he slowly looked towards the prone form of the commander. Brandy turned and walked over, and purposefully stepped over, the Vral. He then knelt down next to the figure. “You will not survive. We will bathe in your ashes.”
“When.” Brandy said, a dark bit of amusement in his tone. “Come on. When. Daylight’s wasting.”
“The void will take you.” The vral repeated, then went silent again as Brandy stood up and stepped over the commander once more. Jessup was coming down to meet with him in the center of the bowl.
“Good news, Vlad’s going to make it.” Brandy told him, “He’ll be in the burn unit for a bit, don’t know where he got hit, but the suit saved him.”
“Good. What’s the word from the local moral officer?” Jessup said, motioning to the vral, who was laying again in silence.
“Same as normal. We’re gonna die. Void’s gonna take us. Ashes. Dancing on my grave.” Brandy shrugged. “You know, what they normally say, that friendly little conversation.” Brandy could actually feel Jessup’s eyes rolling.
“Control, Bridge Team. Secured and detailed.” Jessup said, and they both heard the click of acknowledgement. “Another two hours maybe?” Jessup asked, and Brandy nodded. “Welp, two today, that makes six boardings for me, how many for you?”
“Fourty.” Brandy replied, and Jessup whistled low. “And that’s just these types. I was actually put on a team as a standby sweep for a battleship or two, but mostly light cruisers. No corvettes or destroyers though. They normally just send the heavies to take those. The cruisers though? Heavy cruisers? Carriers? I’ve done a few of those too, but mostly this.”
Jessup leaned against the back of one of the panels that he had checked. “What kind of team do they send to a carrier?” He asked, and Brandy laughed.
“Put it to you like this. They send units of chua war machines, and what’s called a kill team. They don’t even bother sweeping like we do with these ships, they just punch holes in every room and open them to vacuum, and the kill teams go in to make sure none of them got into a warsuit.” Brandy tapped his chest, “We barely do anything. They just turn the entire ship into swiss cheese then call us in to check panels. Kill teams are just different, but it’s an experience. You don’t get to really do much though. Go in, stay behind the kill team, and check elect…”
Brandy stopped talking and both of them listened as a tone sounded from Control, then they heard her speak. “All objectives secured. Stand by in location. Prepare for tow and extraction.”
The two of them reached out and grabbed hold of a panel, and Brandy looked over at Jessup. “Well, quicker than I thought.” Just as he was finishing that sentence the entire hull seemed to shake, and he felt a small surge of negative g force before his body adjusted. “A lot quicker.”
“What do you think they’ll get out of this?” Jessup asked as he let go of the panel.
“Oh hell.” Brandy said, motioning to the ship they were in. “Three destroyers easy. Maybe a corvette added in. Couple of fighters. Ever seen the reprocessors?” Jessup shrugged at the question and Brandy pointed at him. “When we get back, if you have some downtime, just ask to watch. It’s some impressive shit. I watched one of those crews break down a corvette in two hours.” Jessup raised his eyebrow and Brandy held up two fingers. “Two. No shit. Something like this is going to take them maybe a day, probably less than that. It’s absolute magic.”
“I was raised on the Los Angeles flats.” Jessup said, and it was Brandy’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “You know, where they had one of the landfills. They said they used a reprocessor for that too.”
“Yeah, the chua know how to make the most out of everything. Did you know there used to be a floating island of plastic in the Pacific Ocean?” Brandy placed his hands on the hilts of his blades as Jessup shook his head no. “Yeah, when the chua got set up, first thing they did was clean up all of that. Tons of plastic, centuries of fuck ups, and they fixed it in barely a month. Earth was trashy, real trashy. Now we just reprocess everything.”
“I never looked into how that works.” Jessup said, then laughed when Brandy raised his fingers and wiggled them in the air. “PFM?”
“Yeap. Pure fuckin’ magic. At least that’s how it looks to me.” Brandy sighed, then he motioned to the panels. “We had the technology centuries ago but we just never refined it like the chua did. I asked how it worked and I felt like I was an ape. They felt the same way about our computers the way we feel about their reprocessors though, so I guess it evens out.”
“What do you mean?”
Brandy glanced over at him and smirked, then he motioned to his suit’s right chest pauldron, where his suit’s electronic suite for his HUD was kept. “This here has more processing power than the chua had on one of their battleships. They just didn’t focus on it like we did. The concept of a microprocessor blew their minds. We know how to store a hundred terabytes on a fingernail, they know how to break down a landfill into bars of material.” Jessup leaned back against the panel again and grunted. “Seriously, ask to watch what they do to this thing. They are going to slice it up, put the pieces into the reprocessors, and by tomorrow it’s going to be raw materials. No waste, it’s crazy.”
Brandy turned his head back to the vral laying on the floor, hearing it muttering to itself. He narrowed his eyes for a few moments, listening to the sound of the clicking, then he looked back to Jessup. “Wish that thing would just shut the hell up.” A moment later he said a bit louder, “We get it asshole. The void is coming, it’s going to take us. Ashes, death, suffering. We get it. Shut the hell up.” He pushed himself off the panel and walked to the edge of the bridge nearer to the door. “Non-stop with them.”
Jessup gestured to the commander with his head. “What are we doing with him.”
“Well, he’ll get to tell an interrogation team about the void, bet he’s got a hard on for that.” Brandy replied, then paused and glanced at the upper right of his HUD, seeing a few green dots moving in their direction. “Then they’ll just toss his ass out of an airlock. Ready to go?”
“Yeap.” Jessup pushed up from the panel he was leaning on and joined Brandy near the door and waited as they both watched the dots approaching the door. Brandy reached over and toggled the lock, and the door slid open. Four humans in construction harnesses with atmospheric suits rated for vacuum were just coming to a stop. Behind them Brandy could already see the two other members of the team coming to relieve them.
“Is that Vodka?” One of them said, a hard feminine voice coming from one of the suits. Brandy’s eyebrow perked up, and so did Jessup’s entire body. Both of them knew Janet Shippen’s voice. Janet was what Brandy’s mother would call a feral tomboy. Short, muscled, her brown hair cut in a pixie cut, who felt more at home covered in engine fluid than anything else. She was also what his father would call an absolute knockout. Jessup had met her three times and was in love. Brandy’s relationship with Janet was a private affair, but Jessup wouldn’t find out about it, no sense in breaking his heart after all. Not to mention that Brandy looked at Jessup as a friend.
“How the hell are ya Shipwreck.” Brandy said with a smirk, “I got you a nice one here. I even got you a local to keep you company, ask him about the void. He’ll tell you all you want to hear.” The two figures in the back, clad in all black with no identifying markers, looked to Brandy, who simply pointed towards the vral commander laying on the floor.
“By the way. Ran into Vlad before I came over here.” She said, coming closer to the two Ghouls. “They got him out of his suit before they sent us over. He’s got an ass of a burn on his shoulder, but he said he’s going to be a bitch about it so they’ll give you fuckers some down time.” Brandy smiled, knowing if Vlad was joking around he was more than ok. Janet motioned to the bridge, “Lot of nothing?” She asked, and both of the Ghouls nodded. “Figures. Fuckers.” All three of them watched for a moment as the two black clad humans knelt over the vral commander. “Alright, I’ve got to prep this bitch for breakdown, then I’m done for the day. Salvagers are just putting most of the wrecks in orbit.”
Jessup glanced to Brandy before speaking, “Think they want to move again soon?”
“Bet your ass.” Janet reached for her side and pulled out a data pad. “Way I see it we’re just topping off right now, waiting for some of the boats out there to get their shit together, then they are going to move us out. Speaking of moving out, bounce your asses, I’ve got shit to do so I can get off once we pull back into Antares.”
“Call us a cab?” Brandy asked, using the slang term for the shuttle that had delivered Janet’s team that would take his own back to Antares.
“Yeap. We made entrance right next to where you did.” Janet started moving into the bridge, towards a grouping of panels hard mounted to the wall. She stopped and glanced back at Brandy. “It’s been a hell of a day, almost eighteen hours. I’m going to get a stiff drink in my quarters.”
“You do that. I’m going to check on Vlad and get him settled in before I do anything else.” Brandy said, and she turned and went to the panel. Brandy was glad for the tint of his helmet’s visor or else his smirk would need explaining from Jessup who was none the wiser. Once he went through debrief and turned over his gear already knew what he was going to be doing. Straight to engineering deck C, where Janet would be waiting.
Kukat was miserable, or at least was acting like she was. Vicky was rigidly standing at attention, as was Jess, standing stock still beside Kukat’s bed. The loud exclamation that had brought them to their feet of, “What the chicken fried fuck?!” had come from the man standing in front of them. Vicky wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Jess was trying to keep herself from laughing. Kukat reached out a three fingered hand towards the man wearing a captain’s eagle on his flight jumper, a hand that had two small bow tie stickers on it.
“Torture. Help.” Kukat said, as weak as a newborn kitten, and Jess’s breath escaped her in a buzzing of her lips from someone desperately attempting to keep in her laughter. The small sheet containing bow ties, smiley face, stars, and other cartoonish stickers fell from her hand that was clenched firmly at her side. Kukat was wearing half of them. Captain Yang stared in an expression of one who is seeing something for the first time when they had believed they had seen it all. “Help.” Kukat said again, holding out her other arm which had a line of stars stuck to it all the way down to the back of her hand. Yang slowly brought his fingers up to squeeze the bridge of his nose, and then he turned on his heel and faced away from the trio. Vicky just wanted to die. The captain of the cruiser had visited them a few times in the past three days since they had been brought onboard by the Barrowmore. Kukat had been immediately rushed to start receiving medical care, Victoria Brandy and Jessica Anders had been by her side from the second they were allowed back, barring short periods where either woman needed to file their reports. The problem was, every time Captain Yang had come back to visit them, it was always at the most inopportune time. The first time he had walked in to Jess cuddling the small chua in a bed that was almost a meter too small for her. The second time Vicky had taped Jess’ hands and feet to her chair. The third time Jess had been singing a nursery rhyme to Kukat. Each time Yang had walked in, Vicky had felt like crawling in a hole, Jess had desperately tried not to laugh, and Kukat had acted like a prisoner of war. Vicky was getting the feeling the captain was enjoying these trips down to see her and her crew.
“Can someone explain to me why the three pilots that I’m supposed to award the Terran Star to are acting like toddlers in my medbay?” He said, then he turned back to face them. Vicky didn’t want to die anymore. Jess stopped laughing. Kukat’s hands fell to the heated blanket that covered her. All three of them were to awarded the highest honor in the Terran Fleet. Now it was the captain’s turn to laugh as he stepped forward and grabbed Vicky’s hand, which almost knocked her off balance as he began vigorously shaking it. “Congratulations.”
Vicky stared at him for a few long moments, trying to parse through the entire scenario in her head. None of them had paid much attention to news outside of the medbay, Vicky had barely even been back onboard the Thumper aside from downloading nav data to be included in her flight logs. “Captain…” She said, sounding to even her own ears a bit disjointed, “What did we find out there.”
“First off at ease.” Yang said, then he smirked as Jess began to self consciously pluck the stickers off of Kukat, her eyes on him, he turned his attention to her. “Your flight records and the reserve drone data is being sent back to Earth to be implemented into training.” His attention turned to all of them in turn. “You really don’t know do you?” All three shook their heads, and Vicky took a step back to stand side by side with her crew.
“We haven’t been paying much attention to what’s been coming in.” Vicky said, and she placed her hand on Kukat’s medical bed. Yang nodded, understanding. This crew was a very tight group, and he could see that even from the small amount of time he had been around them.
“You scouted out the entire Vral fleet, they were evacuating. I don’t think they expected us to move as fast as we did on them, so when we jumped into the system they were barely organized into battlelines.” Yang interlocked his fingers in front of his belt. “Because of what you got on those scans, we knew exactly what we were jumping into. We knew exactly what we would do the moment we landed and…” He paused for a moment, letting his words stand out. “... we eradicated their entire fleet.” Vicky looked to Jess. Jess’s mouth hung slightly open.
“I knew it was a fleet!” Jess said after a moment. When she had been asked by Vicky a few hours after they had gotten Kukat settled, Jess had insisted she had been trying to evade fire from point defense and laser batteries from at least twelve ships. What she didn’t know, and what would be reflected on the citation for the award she was yet to receive, was that she had been evading around thirty individual vessels weapons fire.
“Not a fleet.” Yang said, and Jess looked back to him. “It was ‘The’ fleet.” Jess looked at him in confusion for a few seconds, as did Vicky.
“Shit!” Kukat chirped, and all three humans looked down at the small, sticker covered chua. Kukat’s mouth hung open slightly. Jess looked up to Vicky, and both seemed to realize what was said at the same time. Jess’ hand shot to her mouth, covering it, her eyes wide as Vicky stepped back to lean against the wall.
Yang waited a few moments then stepped forward. “Well, I hope you three are ready.” He said as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Drone Cutters are supposed to cut and run the second they get in trouble. You three…” He motioned to them with a wave of his hand. “... you stuck around, and because you did, you handed us everything we needed to go after them.” Jess’ hand came down on Kukat’s small shoulder, and one of the smiley face stickers peeled off as Kukat wrapped her hand around Jess’ pointer finger. Vicky slowly pressed her back against the wall and started sliding down it. “Basically, to be blunt, now that this has broken, every news feed in the Terran Front wants pictures of you, details on your status…” He motioned to Kukut. “... and to be honest I’ve had to keep them from taking over the ship to get to you.”
Jess and Vicky exchanged a glance, and then looked back to Yang. Kukat had not looked away from him even for a moment. Yang shrugged his shoulders and turned to the display panel on the wall, and activated it. He tapped the panel for a few moments, then the sounds of cheering came through. On the display was a live news feed, and they could hear the reporter’s voice barely above the cacophony of the crowd around her.
“... action. The news of the destruction of the fleet has sparked widespread celebrations of joy. The foot of the enemy that we have all felt over us has been cut off. Thermopylae Station, for the first time in nearly a century, is standing down from Condition One to Condition Three.” The reporter was almost shouting, and Vicky breathed out, even as she heard a low tone from Kukat, and a sob coming from Jess. Yang had his back turned to them watching, and without saying another word he turned and walked out. “Once Condition Three was set at Thermopylae, the information began to pour in from the Zzisma system as well as the planet Zvitia located there. Fleet Marshal Simmons of the Antares battle fleet will be continuing to press into former Shesvie Accordance territory once consolidation is completed.” The reporter paused, the moment she had said Antares a chant had begun, and it was overwhelming. The thunder of uncountable human voices yelling, ‘We’re Still Here’ drowned her out entirely. The reporter eventually just held up her hands helplessly as the chant overwhelmed the microphone’s input threshold, turning the people’s chanting into a dull roar. The feed cut over to an image of man behind a news desk, the ticker at the bottom of the screen citing off ship names.
“Again if you’re just joining us the Vral have been soundly beaten in the Zzisma system. The enemy’s losses have been stated as total. Fleet Marshal Simmons, commander of the Antares battlegroup, will be holding a press conference at a later date to discuss the events of today, but has released a few names to us as well as their roles within the conflict.” Jess, Vicky’s, and Kukat’s individual service portraits slowly appeared on the screen while the reporter spoke.
“Holy shit.” Jess whispered. “That’s us.” Vicky stared at the screen, even as Kukat squeezed Jess’ finge
“Lieutenant Victoria Brandy, Drone Operator Second Class Jessica Anders, and Drone Operator Third Class Kukat were conducting a routine drone sweep of the Zzisma system when they sighted the Vral. The three managed to gain enough intelligence to warrant the immediate redeployment of the Antares battlegroup which had been in rescue and recovery efforts above the chua homeworld.” Vicky just stared at the man as he continued talking on the display. “From the feeds that we have managed to confirm, the crew of the scout ship stayed while exposed and under threat and under fire until such time as the information was confirmed transmitted. All three of the scout’s crew made it back safely, although Drone Operator Third Class Kukat was reported as needing medical attention, the reasons of which are unknown, but it is reported that she is in stable condition.” Their portraits fell away from the screen as another image came up, of a chua in a captain’s uniform came up, grayed out.
Vicky just stared at the screen, Jess breathed out a breath that she didn’t even know she had been holding. Kukat leaned back into her pillow.
“We famous.” Kukat chirped.
The news reporter was still speaking, something about a battleship that had engaged the Vral, some new story of heroism. The three of them sat in silence. Vicky wanted to look to Kukat and Jess, but both of them were quiet. Suddenly Vicky and Kukat flinched as Jess erupted out of her seat. “Yeah! That’s right! What do you think now Rick?” Jess said her ex-boyfriends name with vitriol. “Who’s not photogenic now huh? Galaxy wide baby!” She whooped and Kukat stared up at her in amazement as Vicky buried her head in her hands and laughed.
“You problem.” Kukat chirped low.
“I told you you suck at picking men Kukat!” Jess proclaimed. “You still suck Rick!”

I've got a name for another component of SSS: Demonstrative Performative Transmissions (DPT). Basically, this is when a person's actions, or evidence of their actions, create an additional layer of information within your thought process. I find this cognitive technology to be difficult to describe in its entirety because it seems to be utilized by people who are exceptionally robust in their social skills; my autism brain can experience these DPTs, but I wouldn't know how to go about creating one that I have not directly experienced. In essence though, a DPT occurs when someone wants to plant a thought in someone's head through subliminal means that has no recourse for the person in question to respond to.
The instance that triggered my awareness of DPT being a nameable phenomenon occurred in Walmart. I had stolen from there a bit, not enough to cause an escalation, but enough to likely be noticed. I went in to use the bathroom and saw someone see me and immediately text something, which seeded the awareness that I was being watched. After I finished my business, I exited the bathroom to find an employee waiting for me, who proceeded to walk in front of me and take her vest off, informing me that they have undercover employees there who simply don't have vests on. This is in conjunction with other synchronicities which were shaping my perception at the time.
Another example: when I was first spiraling into homelessness, I crashed on the couch of a friend. He did a number of things to help program me to be a better guest in his house. For instance, when I ate too much, as I would opt to stress eat under the pressure of my situation as I had done my whole life, he would stand up and “stretch” his back, usually making some remark that his back hurt. He literally only did this when I ate too much, and it quickly became a cheese cloth (classical conditioning) where I would feel shame for binge eating.
The cult I was in used a bunch of these. For instance, when I first got there, I would find a statistically abnormal number of dimes, which I would always pick up. At least, I did until the leaders of the cult cross-talked to me once when I was picking them up, saying something to each other to the effect of “how are you going to serve the community if you're always focusing on making money?” As I was under their spell, I immediately conformed to focusing on making the project take off.
Another example from the cult: when I was beginning to get sick of being controlled and was rebelling, the woman who was in charge took the chair in front of me and turned it around before sitting in it, functionally telling me that if I were to turn my back on the project, she would turn her back on me. This was continually used, as I would sometimes wake up to find a chair had been placed outside my window, facing away, which scared me into submission.
I could shit out examples of DPTs all day. What's important to understand though is that there are definitely some which are consciously orchestrated by a person/people, and the false positives that occur from observing the chaos of society while you are primed with the narrative structures of SSS. Let DPTs move you, but don't let them control you in order to achieve the most that you can from SSS, while being as safe and rational as possible

Help! I've been sick on and off my whole life... Just turned 32. "Highly sensitive" as a kid, always sick and I had awful eczema, growing pains (would be up all night crying), and terrible menstrual cycles. I have a hormonal IUD to help mitigate those symptoms but it almost feels like I should take it out just to "prove" that I'm ill, but then I know it'll just be blamed on "bad periods."
I have had positive ANA for over 2 years now, with a dense speckled pattern (1:80, 1:320 in January this year) and also with homogeneous pattern (1:320). My thyroid peroxidase is currently over 65, low thyroid stimulating hormone. Family history of lupus and leukemia.
My doctor did order a CT scan of my abdomen because I was really sick last week and insisted that it's something bigger, but she is still saying it's probably a stomach bug. I'm sorry, but who gets a stomach bug every other month or so for years that makes them faint on the toilet?! I don't want to wake up on the bathroom floor again!
Anyway, this is not about me I'm feeling unwell, but rather that I'm just about ready to give up on traditional doctors. My mom said to maybe look into a D.O. instead of an M.D. Should I go off and find a rheumatologist on my own? I haven't had great success with them either... maybe an allergist or immunologist? Please help! I barely even care about getting treated at this point because no one will help me but it's hard to be a working person who is chronically ill but has no real way of backing it up...ugh.
Thanks for any suggestions!

I have the misfortune of living opposite a couple of restaurants and over the last couple of years the pavement, cycle lane, and double-red lined loading bays outside have been colonised by Deliveroo/Just Eat/Uber Eats riders who camp outside waiting for orders. The associated noise, dirt, and pavement blocking makes life unpleasant but I'm at a loss at what can be done and by whom. Does anyone know?

Hello, my son is five months old now and since his birth I had ups and downs, but more downs. It's going to be a long text.
I have a condition where I don't produce enough estrogen and I can't smell things. I have to take hormones since age 14 up to the rest of my life and when people say something smells bad I totally trust them cause I don't have a clue, otherwise I live a normal life. For boys with that condition (lack of testosterone) it's sometimes harder. I needed medical help to get pregnant and my doctor said I might not have a lot of time anymore so I should start. I told my partner and he says he's not really ready and he's afraid, but he decided to do it with me.
Along this process we figured out there's a 50/50 chance I could pass the condition on. I thought it's okay because you can live with it without lots of barriers and if you know it early, you can do more. My partner said he goes the journey with me. Actually I had doubts a few months later and thought "after that cycle I want to stop and try to adopt". Well, I got pregnant. I was glad and afraid. So was my partner, but he has a different way to deal with anxiety than me. While I was pregnant, he often said "it's going to be hell, it will be horrible with a baby, we won't have a life anymore". He also told me he agreed because he thought I might break up. He actually always wanted to have a child, but is so afraid of all the worries, so without me, he wouldn't have done it. I understand, but what he said made me feel horrible and guilty to ruin his life. Even though he says it was his own decision to agree and not my responsibility that he did so.
The birth was really hard, I was in labour for four days and my son nearly died right after birth. He was in a hospital for two weeks. My partner and I both loved him from day one, but we both did not enjoy the first weeks at all. My partner now is constantly worried and says he wishes back the old times between us. We discuss a lot since birth, are sad, don't spend a good time with each other. He says his life is horrible and I feel so guilty because he did it for me. He is always so sad when the baby cries and I always feel bad then. So I try to do nearly everything on my own so he doesn't suffer.
It did get a bit better between us since we made plans how to make it work better and I started to enjoy being a mom. But a few days ago we got the news that our son has my condition. Since then I only feel depressed, because it's my fault. I know what people might say -I did think about it for sure before. Now I see it different, I regret that decision and I feel sorry for my son. Also there was so much going on during pregnancy and after birth, I just don't feel strong and positive anymore. How could I do it to him. I didn't suffer a lot, but maybe he will see it differently. My partner says the life of our son will be hard. I am so afraid he won't be happy. He will always have to take hormones and have doctor appointments because of our decision to have a child. I can only think of the fact that I don't want a child anymore. I can't even feel the love to my son at the moment because I am just so ashamed in front of him. I want my life back and I don't know how I could overcome the feeling I ruined two lifes.

Hi!
Sorry for the long post, but if you happen to read it, all I want is advice to help me shut up and just bear with group situations that seem unfair.
I'll explain.
I guess this has been brought up before and I've read a ton of posts of others here talking about how they've always felt like the odd one out, the black cat and this sort of thing. However, not all these people seem to have such a hard time with this - at least not hard to the point of avoiding group settings like the plague (not healthy INFJs, anyway).
I've been dealing with depression since my early teens and I just came to realize that a good part of the discomfort I feel in my own skin comes from the fact that group settings just drain the hell out of me and I feel abnormal because of it, like there's something wrong. It's not because of too much talking or interaction, it's the politics/dynamics that get me.
I had to navigate life with school, job, family and all of this grinning and bearing, because life has to "work", but it's taken a toll on me to the point that now I feel so exhausted that I avoid group settings (other than immediate family) like the plague.
This is easier now that I finished my education and quit corporate to have my own business (in which I still deal with people, and, although it's still draining, it's less personal), so I have less obligation to be in groups than I used to. Still, groups are unavoidable in a few things that I enjoy doing, like sports (which are an important part of keeping my depression at bay).
It's not that I'm sociophobic or agoraphobic, because groups don't make me panic, but they generally make me feel so uneasy. It's like every time I'm part of a group, I end up in the middle of some kind of mess because I see unfairness or attempts at domination (of me or others, subtle and not subtle) and cannot help but call it out. Self-proclaimed group leaders starting gossip, or trying to dominate decisions that belong to the group, or set unreasonable rules....it's a no for me. I call it out. And end up being the one that's too sensitive, the troublemaker (even though many others in the group feel the same, but are smarter than me and keep quiet).
I played a group sport for the last year and was enjoying it, but now I'm about to quit because the bullshit is starting and I'm calling it out. If I see the dominating voices being overbearing and trying to call the shots at the cost of others' wishes, instead of just ignoring them, I say something and end up feeling bad afterwards. If I don't say anything, I feel even worse and the thing eats away at me.
The thing is, I want to either not mind being the so called asshole or not suffer by letting things slide. How does one go about that?
It's the second group sport I'll quit in two years because I just can't keep my mouth shut, so I'm convinced that weight training, which I do, and some other sport that's individual (like running, swimming or cycling) are the way. Sucks because I love many activities that are done in groups, but don't like the groups, if it makes sense.
I'm using sports as an example, but similar scenarios have played out in other groups, like the mom group at my kid's school ( usually the textbook example of groups being shitty) trying to discuss bullying by pointing fingers over whatsapp instead of talking properly (my kid wasn't even involved LOL so I know I should've stayed quiet, but couldn't); or a group trip I had to take for the sake of my family and got me crazy because a few people made everyone late every single day. I always say something and I'm always the asshole.
It's weird because I'm usually pretty chill and quiet, it's always these group things that get me. If something happens on an individual level, I usually calmly talk it out with the other person or, many times, just let it slide.
I feel like shit because at 42 I though I would've matured enough to be able to handle these things better, but in fact I'm growing less tolerant with clique behaviors, alpha-males, queen bees, lack of concern for others and things of the like. Age seems to be making me more intolerant rather than more able to not let these things bother me.
Maybe because I have less to lose now and can afford to be more like my real self? Dunno, any comments will be appreciated.

she's 66 we're 3 adult children who can already provide for the house yet my mother is obsessed with cleaning the house everyday or feeling the need to do something and move. She handwashes the clothes in the sink, she moves furniture every now and then, she washes the dishes, fold the bed, sweep the floor, dust some stuff etc. And we can do all those things, but she butts in to do it, she gets defensive and argues she can wash her hands while doing the dishes or the clothes need to be clean this morning so that the sun can dry it faster or find any excuse to do the tasking labor. she also gets easily sensitive when we don't let her do it as if we personally attacked her.
IMO i think this is her life conditioned from her provincial roots of doing house chores as the eldest of her 9 siblings to taking care of us and the house for most of our lives but she has GOT to stop and we're reaching the point where she's complaining about her shoulders in pain and she's old and can't even carry her own bag.
TW// disgusting unsanitary stuff
It has come to the point where there's a pitcher on the side of the sink that is with utensils and glass cups that I had used to make iced tea with. turns out... that was a pitcher where she uses laundry water to scoop off of to water the plants and even painted the picture of my baby nephew's underwear being handwashed in it. IT'S A PITCHER ON THE SINK WHERE WE PUT OUR DISHES. SHE'S HANDWASHING LAUNDRY ON THE SINK WHERE WE CLEAN DISHES.
TW end
so yeah i wanna know how to deal with this with the less drama possible. Cause it's just gonna be that if we talk to her. we're gonna fight and I can easily do all the chores shes been doing on my own way but she's just forcing her senile self to do it and its gonna hurt her sooner or later and they're just gonna blame me despite all my opportunities and proposal to fix whatever stupid chores they want and my family just doesn't do it.

Cinderella stories are popular rags to riches stories. A story of how an abuse victim can escape their sad life. A story of someone in poverty who makes it to royalty. It’s been retold countless times with different settings, ideas, etc.
Well, I’m wondering if anyone has ever done a version that goes somewhat in reverse. A version that’s a riches to rags story. And the reason is because the rags to riches story has been parodies and deconstructed a number of times. In “Into the Woods”, it turns out the prince is an asshole. And I’ve even found some versions where the step family end up becoming servants. That may sound like fitting karma to some. But for me, it sounds more like the roles are reversed now. Plus, with all the pushback against women in society, Cinderella deconstructions with more feminist views, show that the titular character actually ends up becoming her own antithesis by continuing the cycle of abuse.
Well, a riches to rags story, might be the antidote for this. And not all riches to rags stories are cynical. They can be about someone who was rich who lost everything, and learns the value of hard work, empathy towards people born without a silver spoon, and realizes that they benifitted from an unfair system. What if we have a Cinderella character who finds their rich life unbearable, and falls in love with someone poor, and they renounces it all so she can be with the person they love.