Wording sample for family reunion invitations

You guys know what an alpine coaster is? They are like a small roller coaster you find in the mountains. They are also called summer toboggans or mountain coasters and I think there’s some long German compound word they are called in parts of Europe. They are like a roller coaster, but with much smaller one or two person sleds you just sit on instead of multi-person cars you ride in, and instead of being built with like a scaffolding or a framework the tracks are just on the ground, using the elevation of the mountain. Basically it’s a coaster track on the side of a mountain where you ride a sled down.
They are pretty fun. Or at least I used to think so. They are more “personal” than roller coasters and although you get nowhere near the speed on them that you do on a good traditional roller coaster and they can’t do corkscrews or loops or anything like that the openness and simplicity of the ride gives an impression of a much greater speed. You’re just sitting there with nothing but a little plastic sled and the track between you and the ground as it goes zooming by. It’s like the difference between how fast a go-cart feels compared to how fast a sports car feels. You know the sports car goes faster but the open, simpleness of a go-cart feels a different kind of fast. There’s plenty of POV Youtube videos if you want to get the basic idea of what they are.
I used to love alpine coasters. Used to.
My family used to go to Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge and up and down the Smokey Mountains for vacations when I was a kid and they are common in that area and I’d always rode them every chance I got.
But as with so many things after I grew up and went to college they just became part of my childhood that slipped away. They aren’t exactly common once you get away from the mountains.
Until one cool spring afternoon in 2004. I was in my final year at college and I was driving back to campus in Tennessee after a short visit to my folks in North Carolina. It was only like a 4 or 5 hour drive via the most efficient route and I had no need to be back at campus early so instead of taking the freeway all the way I got off and took part of my trip through the mountains. The scenery was nicer and I admit I liked pushing my Camaro just a little faster than I should through the twisty mountain roads.
Just after lunchtime happened upon one of those little by-the-highway tourist towns deep somewhere in the Smoky Mountains near the Carolina/Tennessee border. Nothing fancy, a gas station/truck stop, a diner, a couple of places selling tourist merch nestled deep in the mountains. I pulled into the gas station. My tank was getting low and I needed to stretch my legs, maybe grab something to eat. It was still early and I only had another couple of hours. I could kill an hour or so and still make it back to campus at a decent hour.
I pulled into the gas station and was filling my tank when I happened to glance across the road and… well I’ll be damned. There it was. “The Blue Ridge Alpine Coaster.” Nestled on the side of the mountain was a building, a mockup of a red barn, where a single railed track that led up into the mountains, where it soon got lost in the greenery. Wooden hand painted standees of cartoon character bears dressed in stereotypical “Hillbilly” getup stood around, some of them holding signs showing the ride hours and ticket costs and other info. I had to admit, as silly as it was, it made me smile.I finished pumping my gas and, well, nostalgia is a helluva thing. I decided then and there I could waste a little time riding an Alpine Coaster again after all these years before getting back on the road.
I parked my car in a corner of the truck stop's parking lot, put my phone in the center console, this being the days before smart phones when people didn’t keep their phones with them 24/7 and I didn’t want my old Nokia brick phone to fall out during the ride, locked my car and walked across the mountain highway to the Alpine Coaster building.
Getting closer, the place was less inviting. The half hearted attempt at a whimsical faux-Americana kitsch was far less effective when it brushed up against the actual decaying, run down wooden building. Hell calling it a building was generous. It was a wood frame holding up a long roof that covered the area where you got on the sleds. The wood boards creaked under my footsteps.
The only real enclosed structure was a shack that held, what I assumed, was a ticket booth. A door on the side had both a single occupancy bathroom with an out of order sign on it. An old Pepsi machine buzzed and glowed next to it.
Still the place looked alive. Ahead of me a bored looking attendant was helping a mother and her young son into one of the sleds while in a bored monotone repeating the safety brief. A few people were waiting in line at the ticket booth. Up in the mountains the playful shouts of people on the ride echoed down. Fond memories of my own childhood rides flooded my mind.10 minutes and 15 dollars later I was settling into the hard plastic seat of a bright red sled sat atop a simple aluminum rail.
I couldn’t help but grin as the sled slowly climbed the track up the mountains, making click-clack ratcheting sounds that hit my nostalgia centers hard. I felt good. The air was cool and crisp and smelled of pine.Higher and higher in the mountains we went. I don’t know if this is my mind trying to make sense of it after the fact but when I remember these moments, the last good moments, I sometimes think I remember a very slight, very subtle pit of fear in my stomach. I honestly don’t know if I felt it at the time or not or it’s just how my mind tries to make sense of it looking back at.
But either way mostly I was enjoying myself. I smiled. I was a kid again. I could hear riders in front of me let out that initial yell of terrified glee you get at the first drop of any good ride.
It peaked. I glanced around. I could see for miles, rolling hills and mountains. I the sled tipped over and zoomed down the mountain and I let out the same happy yell I heard from the other passengers.The ride zoomed down the mountain, catching speed. The mountain forest floor zoomed past, only a few feet under me. Trees zoomed past. I gave out a happy whoop as the ride banked hard around a curve and then looped back under itself.Another dip, another curve. I closed my eyes, enjoying the feel of the G-forces pulling me every which way.
There was no one exact single moment where things started to go “wrong.” The ride kept going. And going. At this point the first creeping thought entered my head.
The ride… was still going.
It just started to hit me… this ride was going on for a really long time. I had taken a dozen rides on various coasters of this type before that day and they topped out at about 5 minutes or so, and that was the long ones. Longer than a traditional roller coaster but not that long. This one had been going on for what felt like 10, maybe even 15 minutes.
I looked back over my shoulder and could only see trees, moving too fast to really get a bearing on where I was at in relation to anything.
I wasn't exactly really worried yet. Okay so I had found a particularly long alpine coaster. At the time I wasn’t 100% wasn't sure they didn’t exist or anything like that. I was a little… unnerved but nothing was happening that was impossible. Yet.
I was trying to talk myself back into just enjoying the ride and stop overthinking it, and halfway succeeded, when out of nowhere I suddenly banked hard, the track jutting out almost over a sheer cliffside. I gripped the sled more tightly as I was whipped around. The ride then dipped hard and picked up speed, barreling down the side of the mountain.
I was pushed back against the seat by the force of the drop. Jesus I didn’t remember them being this rough. I was feeling slightly nauseous. And where had this elevation drop come from I wondered? I was still in the foothills and I didn’t remember seeing anything but gentle rolling hills and light drops from looking at the ride’s route earlier. How the ride had managed such a long, steep drop in this area I didn’t know. . For the first time I hoped that the ride would be over soon. I had no idea then how much I would want that same hope to be true so much more as time went on.
With a whiplash motion I was whipped forward and then back as the ride leveled out on flat ground again, but by this point I was going fast, too fast. My neck hurt from the mild whiplash and I felt sour in my throat and for a moment the contents of my stomach threatened to come back up. For the first, but hardly the last time the ride felt unsafe. Alpine Coasters are tame affairs, much slower and gentler than full on roller coasters but this thing was throwing me around like no thrill ride I had ever been on.
I looked around. I mean I wasn’t that deep into the woods. I should have been able to see a glimpse of something; the highway, the gas station, the tourist shops, the Alpine Coaster office, something, anything. But nothing. Just trees.
I forced back some panic for the first time. I closed my eyes and counted to ten. The ride zoomed along. I counted to 60. I counted to 60 again. And again. Okay this was getting uncomfortably harder and harder to explain.
Suddenly I noticed that up ahead the track seemed to just end, for one brief, terrible moment I thought the track just ended but I was wrong. Almost without warning the track dipped in an almost vertical drop. I almost screamed as I plummeted for 20, maybe 30 seconds before flattening out again.
By this point the voice in my head that was telling me something was wrong was louder and I could no longer tell myself it was wrong. This ride could not have been this long. I tried to make sense of it, wondering if somehow I had gotten diverted onto some kind of maintenance track or, hell for one brief irrational moment even entertaining the idea that I had wound up on an actual train track somehow. But that was absurd. The rail below me was not a train track, it was still just the simple, aluminum rail of an alpine coaster and there had been no diversions or junctions in the track. I was still on the ride, as insane as that was starting to feel. Had the ride somehow looped? Again after having the thought I immediately dismissed it as crazy. There’s no way I could have missed the ride building where I got on. And what kind of ride loops over and over?
The sled zoomed through the forest, oddly never seeming to lose speed despite the relatively flat grade of the track. I cursed myself for leaving my phone in the car and not wearing a watch. I don’t know exactly how long I had been on the ride at that point but it felt like I had been on the ride for a half hour, maybe more. But time is a funny thing when you’re in a situation you’ve never been in. Could have been more, could have been less, at that point.
My pride finally failed me. I started to scream for help. I screamed out that the ride was broken, to stop it, that I needed help. I did that for about ten minutes or so I think. The ride kept going. Mostly flat, level track with occasional mild dips and turns. But the simple length of the ride grew more and more unnerving and unexplainable.
I thought about just bailing out. But the ride, impossibly, was still not slowing down and chunks of mountain rock and thick tree trunks were all around me. Bailing out without risking smashing into a rock or a tree seemed impossible.
The ride kept going.
Up ahead the forest was clearing out some, I could see the forest brightening, more sunlight making it through the canopy.
I wasn’t prepared for what I saw.
The trees stopped and I had just enough time to take in a flat, open area of rock maybe 40, 50 yards at most before another sheer cliff. The tracks twisted and turned and then shot straight down. But that wasn’t the worst of it. For a moment, a very short moment, I had a clear view for miles and the landscape was, to be blunt, totally impossible. Any possibility that I had just stumbled on some incredibly long ride was blasted out of my head. Barren, volcanic looking rock stretched for miles. Jagged, black rocky outcroppings as far as the eye could see. I was in the goddamn Smoky Mountains. They don’t look like that.
I had a few moments for the terror of that view to settle in before the cart plunged into another horrifying drop. I gripped the handles of the cheap plastic sled until my knuckles turned white. The drop felt completely vertical, like I was falling at terminal velocity. I screamed. My stomach dropped and turned. I imagined the sled coming away from the track and me just plummeting screaming to my death on the rocks below. But somehow the ride still functioned. I closed my eyes tightly and just waited for whatever was going to happen. Eventually after several what felt like a full minute of steep plunging the track again leveled out, and I opened my eyes to see myself moving at breakneck speed over that black, rocky landscape.
Now that I was moving on a more or less flat horizontal track again I took a few deep breaths. I looked over the edge of the track. Nothing but that black, jagged rock, almost looking like obsidian, zooming past. I had no idea how fast the sled was moving now. Fast. Faster than a gravity powered sled should be moving. And the track was higher off the ground now. Alpine slides usually stick pretty close to the ground, but I was 20 feet or so in the air, the track suspended in the air, a simple metal tube tower like a power pylon every few yards.
Without any immediate threat and the sled moving fast but steadily and level I was able to think about my situation again, for all the good that did me. Ahead of me the track just continued to the horizon, nothing but the same rocky landscape as far as I could see. I craned my neck to look back over my shoulder and looked back behind me and it looked the same. Even the mountains were but distant specs on the horizon behind me.
This was insane. There’s not a giant seemingly endless field of black jagged rock in the goddamn Smoky Mountains. There’s no cliff faces tall and steep enough for a multi-minute vertical drop. And alpine coasters were small affairs, not major engineering projects that span miles with pylons and vertical tracks. It made no sense.
Sadly it wasn’t going to start making any more sense anytime soon.
The ride kept going.
I was on this rocky landscape for several hours. I feel comfortable saying this because I could actually notice the sun getting lower in the sky. And the sled wasn’t slowing down despite the grade of the track being flat. I was getting cramped from sitting and stretched my legs and twisted my back as best I could. Didn’t do much help. My eyes were starting to get irritated from the constant wind in them. Worst of all it was starting to get chilly. I only had on a light jacket, a windbreaker, just something to keep the breeze off me, no real insulation. I was cold, my joints were stiff, I was hungry and thirsty. My eyes watered and my throat was so dry it was sore.
But none of that was as bad as just how little sense this all made. There’s nothing like this place anywhere near the Smoky Mountains. This was like some volcanic rock landscape. The more I thought about it the less sense it made.
The ride kept going.
My mind didn’t even try to process this. Whatever I was experiencing simply couldn’t be possible. I was crazy. I was dreaming. The CIA had kidnapped me and dosed me with some new version of LSD and I was in a straightjacket in a padded room at Area 51.
The sled kept zooming along as the sky turned to dusk. Soon the bridge disappeared from my view and I continued on along the endless, rocky, featureless landscape.
I sat back against the sled, mentally and physically numb. I was exhausted. I was thirsty. I was cramping up. I was hungry. I had to pee. I held it for as long as I could, then had no choice but just wet myself. I cried until I had no more tears left. Then I just sat there.
The ride kept going.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon my throat felt like sandpaper. I dug around in my jacket pockets hoping to find a stick of gum or piece of candy. Nothing. I checked again, having nothing else to do. Under a crumpled store receipt in the inner pocket of my jacket was a single old, forgotten cough drop. I unwrapped it from the paper and popped it in my mouth. Saliva flooded back into my mouth and I was overwhelmed by the methanol and medicine taste. It was something at least, although I knew it would be a brief and temporary fix at best.
I felt my eyes get heavy. It was getting colder. That mountain cold. That deep cold the mountains have even into the early spring when the sun goes down. That kind that just pulls the heat right out of you. I shivered. A terrible, horrible certainty came to me. I would ride until I passed out from exhaustion or the hypothermia set in. My body would tumble off the sled to fall and skip across the rocky ground like a stone skipping across a lake, my bones breaking as I tumbled until my body finally came to a stop. If I was lucky I would be killed and not have to lie for days, broken and bruised, on the ground until death took me.
The ride kept going. The ride kept going. The fucking ride kept going.
“Fuck you” I said to the ride, my voice a horse whisper. I pulled my jacket closer around me, for all the good it did. The cold wind was slowly but surely pulling my body heat away. My shivering got worse, crossing the line from a simple normal shiver into those deep, almost violent full body ones.. I wasn’t anything you could call an experienced outdoorsman, but I knew enough to know that wasn’t a good sign.
It was getting dark. There was a full moon at least so I wasn’t totally in the dark.
About then I noticed something. The landscape, what little I could see in the fading light, was changing. It was smoothing out, becoming less rocky and craggy. Up ahead an odd, shimmering light was starting to appear on the ground.
I was over it before I even realized what it was. The tracks were going over a smooth surface.
Water. It was a lake. The odd lights I had seen were the moon, reflected in ripples on the lake.
Within minutes I was out of the view of the land. After the nearly endless rocky landscape and everything else I had seen, it scared me how little I was shocked. I didn’t like how mentally numb I was getting. I leaned over. There was enough moonlight to see the water, 15 or 20 feet below the track. The pylons holding up the track went into the water, the light wasn’t good enough to even make a guess at how far they went down or how deep the water was.I leaned back in the sled. My eyes were red and bloodshot from the constant wind. I closed them. This was a mistake.I jerked awake. I don’t know if I dozed off for a split second or an hour. My weight had shifted and I caught myself as my center of gravity was in danger of sending me off the sled and into the water.
I screamed in anger. A deep primal scream. I hurt so bad. My joints felt like they were full of glass. My limbs were full of pins and needles. I glanced over at the water. For the first time on the very edges of my brain a tiny voice started to speak up, telling me that I could be all over if I just jumped. I shut the voice up, but it scared me still.
I sat there as the ride went on. It felt like hours. Eventually the lake ended in a rocky shore line. The damned ride. There was no safe place to bail out. If the ride slowed down, it was high in the air, if it moved toward the ground it sped up. Sharp rocks, big trees, nothing you could safely bail out into.
I kept having to force myself awake. I kept dozing off. Once I felt myself falling asleep and drove a vicious uppercut into my own nose to stave it off.
I seriously started to think about how much longer I could hang on. The voice came back again. This time I didn’t shut it up. I wasn’t admitting it to myself yet, but I was starting to think about the best way to land that would end it quickly if I needed to.
Something was ahead. The track seemed to dip into the ground. I was too tired, too beaten to even get scared. I was just resigned to whatever happened at this point.
With little warning the track took my sled into a tunnel in the ground. Everything went completely pitch black. After several moments even the dim moonlight was gone.
This was the worst part. The creepy forest, the immense rocky landscape, the eerie lake… those were bad. But this was just nothing. Nothing to look at, nothing to hear, nothing for reference or sense of where I was going. The walls of the tunnel felt like they were inches from me in every direction. The air felt thick, like there wasn’t enough oxygen.
With every moment I was in that tunnel I lost a little more hope. After a long, long time I made a decision. When I got out of this tunnel, I would jump. I didn’t care anymore. Hopefully there would be a spot where I could be certain the fall would instantly kill me. I was done. The ride had beaten me. I sat there, waiting for a chance to end this on my terms. That was all I had left.
Eventually up ahead, a tiny speck of light appeared. I gathered my strength, ready to end it. I sat up, getting my legs under me so I could jump as soon as we were clear. The sled burst out of the tunnel. The dim light of the full moon was enough to be momentarily blinding after the pitch black of the tunnel.. I gave my eyes a moment to adjust.
I was back in a normal looking Appalachian forest. Rolling hills, green trees. The air smelled of pine again. I heard an owl hoot off somewhere.
Slowly I lowered myself back into a setting position, in shock. At first I refused to believe it but the ride was slowing down. I held still, making sure my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me, but no, the cheap plastic sled that had been my world for what felt like an eternity was slowing down.
Up ahead, a structure was visible, peeking out from among the trees in the dim lighting as the sled moved down the track.
It was the Alpine Slide building. The crappy fake red barn where I had boarded this cursed ride so long ago. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, sure it was either my mind or the cursed ride playing tricks with me. But the building stayed there.
It grew closer and closer. The track leveled completely out. The sled slowed down more. Before I had the time to really come to terms with it I arrived back at the building.
The sled slowed to a stop, gently pumping against another sled parked on the track. I sat there for a few moments, gasping in great big gulping fear breaths, trying to assure myself the ride didn’t have one last trick of its sleeve.
I looked around. The place was empty, deserted. The overhead lights were still on and the old Pepsi machine still glowed and buzzed, but the ticket booth was dark and empty, a metal gate pulled down over the ticket window.
Suddenly it hit me that I was free and I practically leapt out of the sled and onto the platform. I immediately collapsed. My legs were jelly and my head was spinning. I tried to stand up again and doubled over, dry heaving. Have you ever been out on a boat for a day and have that weird reverse motion sickness when you’re back on solid land? It was like that times a hundred. My inner ear was literally pounding, all the motion had really done a number on it.
I laid there for a few moments and eventually forced myself to stand up on my two wobbling legs. I looked around, a horrible certainty creeping into my mind that there would be no exit, no way off the platform but to my relief an exit turnstyle, one of those full height ones, was set into the fence that surrounded the ride property.
I went through it and found myself back on the main road. The truckstop was still there, still open but far less busy. My car sat in the same corner of the parking lot I had left it.
I allowed myself one look back, just one quick one. The metal skeleton of the Alpine Slide track sat there, dark and quiet but otherwise normal.
I stumbled-ran back to my car, dug the keys out of my pocket, and collapsed inside. When the door shut I let out a primal scream, the tons of fear and confusion and anger all fusing into a single, raw emotion. I screamed again and again.
After a few moments I felt like I was emotionally at least back to a place where I could act, although I wasn’t sure yet what to do next. Not really knowing what to do I cranked the car. The A/C had been on low when I shut off the car and it came roaring back to life and cold air blowing on me almost sent me back into a full on panic attack. I fumbled with the climate controls until the air stopped blowing directly on me, then calmed down enough to turn the heat on, helping to get the chill out of my bones. There was a half full bottle of water in the center console cup holder and I grabbed it and chugged it. Nothing ever tasted as good before or sense as that few ounces of water.
That was when I noticed the clock on the radio head unit. It was 4:17 in the morning. It had been about one, one thirty or so in the afternoon when I got on the accursed ride.
Over 15 hours. I had been on the goddamn ride for over 15 hours. Over half a day.
I just sat there. Warming up. Calming down. I was exhausted. I was dehydrated. I can’t even describe how my head felt. I probably had at least a minor case of hypothermia. I thought about going into the gas station and asking for help but what would I even say, and more than anything I just wanted to get away from this place. And I just wanted to get away. I wanted to be nowhere near that damn ride.
I put the Camaro in gear and pulled into the street and in panic I immediately slammed on the brakes. I was lucky there was no traffic on the road at that moment. The feeling of accelerating to just normal surface street speeds made me sick to my stomach. I gathered myself and very slowly accelerated the car I usually treated with a very heavy foot up to 30 miles an hour. Every time I tried to accelerate at a pace faster than “Old Lady Going to Church, Uphill” I would have a panic attack. I was okay once I was up to speed, but accelerating freaked me out after being on that ride.
I drove about 30 minutes, putting some arbitrary amount of distance between myself and the coaster. Eventually I made it back to where the twisty mountain road met back up with a major road that would eventually meet back up with the highway. After a few more minutes of driving I saw the onramp for the highway. There was one of those big truckstop travel plazas and pulled in, parking right up at the door. I smelled like pee and I can only imagine how I looked, but I didn’t care.
I kept a couple of emergency 20s in the back of my wallet and spent it on the biggest bottle of water the store had, an overpriced bottle of eye drops, and a huge travel mug of coffee. The clerk looked at me as if he was expecting me to either drop dead or rob him the entire time.
Back in my car I downed the coffee. I put a few eye drops in each of my eyes and sat there as the caffeine took effect until I felt like I could make it back to my apartment. The sun was just coming up when I finally pulled out of the truck stop and got on the freeway. I slowly, very slowly, accelerated up to highway speed, put the Camaro in cruise control, and let the miles start to drift away. I turned on the radio, I needed to hear human voices. Every time my mind went back to what had just happened I turned the radio up louder, eventually drowning it out with painful levels of rock music. I wasn’t ready to think about it yet. Yes looking back I know I was just in denial. I finally made it back to the crappy little apartment I had off campus, a little two story walk up studio. I let myself in and collapsed on the cheap couch. I was asleep before I even had the time to decide whether or not to do anything else. I woke up later that afternoon. I took a shower and ate a meal and didn’t think about the ride. I washed the pee stained filthy clothes I had been wearing and didn’t think about the ride. I went back to class and didn’t think about the ride. Every time I thought about the ride I forced it out of my head. I’m sure this wasn’t the most mentally healthy thing to do but what can you say?
I didn’t forget about it, don’t be silly. This isn’t the kind of thing you forget. One day while looking up something else in the university’s library my curiosity got the better of me and I looked up the Alpine Slide. No website but a few Google Map and Yelp mentions. None of them mentioned anything weird, certainly nothing even remotely like what I experienced. Near as I can tell it closed sometimes in the winter of 2012.
Life went on. I mean, that’s what it does. The next day was a little better. And the day after that a little better. And the day after that a little better still. I met a nice girl. Graduated. Got married. Got a nice house in the suburbs. Got a dog. Had a daughter. Spent a lot of time happy and not thinking about being trapped on an endless alpine coaster.And that was my life for many, many years after that.
Until a few weeks back when as a very different person I found myself driving a boring and safe mid sized family SUV through those same mountains. My wife Carol, 5 months pregnant, sat in the passenger seat, our 6 year old daughter Emily in a booster seat in the back, and Max our mixed breed mutt next to her. It had been a nice pleasant trip, driving back from visiting her folks.
I hadn’t thought about that fucking ride in so long I barely registered that I was in the same general area until it was too late. Suddenly I realized that little mountain tourist trap town was only a few minutes down the road. I swallowed hard and gripped the steering wheel hard. Carol was looking out the window at the scenery and Emily was deep into some kid’s Youtube video on an iPad. I forced myself to keep my breath steady as we rounded the corner.The town was still there, sorta. Time had not been kind to it. The gas station was still there, at some point it had been bought out by Shell. The tourist trap shops were still there. One of them was now a vape shop. The diner was closed, the building looking like it sat unused for a long time.
But of course that’s not what I cared about. A looked over at the site where the Alpine Coaster once stood. It was gone. The kitschy fake barn was gone. The site was just a bare concrete slab with a chainlink fence around it. Faded “no trespassing” and “for sale” signs hung off the fence. A pile of old, decaying lumber that might have once long ago been part of the structure covered part of the old lot. No sign of the track remained outside of some old concrete support posts dotting the side of the mountain.
I exhaled out a breath I hadn’t even realized I had been holding in. Soon the little town disappeared in my rear view mirror.
About a half hour later we stopped for gas. I pulled up to a gas pump across from a massive motorhome. Max stuck his head out the window and started barking at a little white dog, a toy breed of some kind, in the window of the motorhome. Carol and Emily immediately headed into the store to restock on snacks while I fueled up.
I stood there, a half smile on my lips as Max barked and wagged his tail in an attempt to attract the attention of the other dog while I filled up the tank, said dog doing an admirable job of ignoring him.
Right about the time I finished fueling up and cleaning the bugs off the windshield Carol returned from inside the store, Emily in tow, arms filled with two full sized bags of Salt and Vinegar Potato Chips and what looked to be a half dozen individually wrapped pickles.
I raised an eyebrow at the collection of food but knew better than to question a pregnant woman's snack choices.
“Should we take Max for a quick walk?” Carol asked. The travel plaza had a nice little gated dog walking area off to the side.
“Yeah probably not a bad idea, he’s been cooped up in the car for a few hours.” I said. Max, upon hearing his name and the word “walk” , forgot about the other dog and upgraded from wagging his tail to wagging his entire body while making whining sounds and staring right at me.
About this time I became half aware that the big motor home next to us was pulling away. I didn’t think much of it, outside of doing a quick automatic mental check to make sure Emily was well clear of the moving vehicle, but she was safely between me and our SUV, well out of the way.
But that was when Emily looked behind me and cheerfully yelled “Daddy look a roller coaster! Can I ride the coaster?”
It’s cliche as fuck I know but my blood went cold.
I turned around slowly, certain in my knowledge that terrible old decrepit Alpine Coaster would be there, having just popped into existence to trap me again.
That.. is not what I saw. Sure enough there was a coaster there, one I hadn’t noticed earlier because it had mostly been blocked by the motor home, but there it was. It was even an Alpine Coaster.
But it was not the same coaster I had encountered those years ago. That was immediately obvious. It was a small but modern and newish looking setup with neon lights and a bunch of people. There was an actual building where you bought tickets and a little snack stand.
“Daddy! Can we go on the coaster!” Emily asked again.
My mouth made motions but no words came out. I glanced over at Carol, hoping she’d say we didn’t have time but to my horror she smiled and said “You know what? That does sound like fun. Daddy will take you while I take Max for a walk.”
My mind raced, trying to think of a way to get out of it. But Emily was already dragging me across the parking lot to the entrance.
I patted my pocket, making sure my phone was in it. Every fiber of my being was screaming to run away. I slept walked through the line and the ticket booth while Emily bounced happily.
We got into a two seat plastic sled. This one was actually a lot nicer than the one my mind wouldn’t stop thinking about. It had two nice cushioned seats, big grab handles, even a nice rollbar.
The sled started up the track. I fought back the panic. I swerved my head around, keeping the building in my view. I was terrified of losing sight of it. We made it to the top and Emily did a happy squeal as we started down the side of the mountain.
My heart raced. Any second, any second my mind told me we’d lose sight of the building and then the ride would never end. The ride sped down the mountain. My mind tortured me with thoughts of not only going through it again, but seeing Emily go through it. The ride went around a big, banking turn. Emily kept shouting happily. How long before Carol reported us missing I wondered? Could I keep Emily calm? What if it lasted even longer this time? What if this time it never ended?
And then we were back at the start of the ride. The same attendant who had helped us into the sled was helping Emily out. I stepped out. The attendant gave me a brief look but said nothing. I guess I looked a little wild eyed.
I was fine. Emily was fine. It had been a perfectly normal, fun ride.
“That was fun Daddy! Thank you!” Emily said. I forced a smile back. “It was fun.” I responded, hoping like I sounded like I meant it.
I took Emily’s hand and we walked back to the car. Max saw us coming and barked happily. Carol looked up from the pint of Ben and Jerry’s she had somehow acquired and added to her snack collection while we were gone and smiled at us.
“Did you have fun?” she asked.
“It was so fun Mommy!” Emily said.
Carol smiled down at her, but then looked at me and frowned. “Are you okay?” Carol could read my face a lot better than the attendant could. “You’re pale.”
I smiled and this time the smile felt real. “Ya know what. Yeah, I think I am okay.”
Carol looked a little puzzled, but didn’t press it. We loaded Emily back in her booster seat, stopped Max from trying desperately to eat half a discarded gas station hot dog off the ground and got him back in the car. Carol and her small collection of snack food took her place in the passenger seat and I got in the driver's seat.I smiled. I cranked the car. I put it in gear. I pulled out of the gas station and back on the road, this time accelerating just a little faster than I had in years.

Hi! I'm based in Manila, Philippines. It's been less than a week since my 2D fetal echo and the Pedia Cardio explained to us her findings.
My daughter has a single ventricle, single atrium and single valve. When I asked the Pedia Cardio what my daughter's condition was so I can look it up, she said there's no single word for it. When I shared the news with one of my friends who has a Pedia Cardio relative, the feedback I got was complete AVSD. This really confused me and it got me thinking if I should get a 2nd opinion?
Anyway, back to the Pedia Cardio's findings, me and my husband were oriented be to be ready for possible PA banding at birth (depending on their 2D echo findings as soon as she's born) and Glenn and Fontan procedures in the next couple of years.
I find myself crying everyday about this situation we are in. I also fear how it will affect my eldest who just turned 2. I have known my husband more than half of my life, and it's my first time seeing him this cranky and low in spirits. The family I pictured having is just out the window. I also feel so alone since no one in the family or circle of friends who had to go through or be in this situation we are in now.

I am an international student graduating from a university in Toronto. In February, I submitted a visitor visa application for my parents to attend my graduation ceremony in June 2024. I included all necessary supporting documents to demonstrate their financial solvency, such as recent bank statements showing ample funds (more than CAD $33,000) for the trip, and a property and fixed asset valuation report from a Chartered Accountant. Additionally, my parents have a strong international travel history including recent visits to the UK, the US and many other countries. I clearly stated in the invitation letter and the purpose of the travel document that their visit was to attend my graduation and that they would return home by the end of June 2024 due to business and property responsibilities.
These were the supporting documents for the application:

• I provided 3 bank statements that accumulate funds equivalent to $33,000 CAD and a fixed asset valuation report of my father’s property from a Chartered Accountant, reflecting its current fair market value of more than 5 Million CAD
  
• ⁠The purpose of travel is to attend my graduation mentioned in the invitation letter and the purpose of the travel document with the proof of solid family ties back home that shows they must come back by the end of June. Both my parents have a good international history with a record of recent visits to the UK, the USA and other countries.
  
• ⁠Documents proving their family ties to Home country are:
  
  • Asset valuation report that reflects property ownership
  • Recent bank statements that accumulates funds of $33,000 CAD
  • The business licence for my enterprise in Home Country
  • Rent receipts from all the tenants of my solely-owned business property with the rental agreement
  • Tax return since 2021
  • National Identity Documents

However, I received a refusal letter from IRCC last night including the following reasons:

I am not satisfied that you will leave Canada at the end of your stay as required by paragraph 179(b) of the IRPR (https://laws-lois.justice.gc.ca/eng/regulations/SOR-2002-227/section-179.html). I am refusing your application because you have not established that you will leave Canada, based on the following factors: Your assets and financial situation are insufficient to support the stated purpose of travel for yourself (and any accompanying family member(s), if applicable). The purpose of your visit to Canada is not consistent with a temporary stay given the details you have provided in your application. 

I have 3 options in hand now: 1. Re-apply (Processing Time: 80+ days) 2. Reconsideration (as quickly as 5 business days) 3. Judicial Review (the most expensive and time consuming option)
I decided to submit a reconsideration letter. However, I am not sure how much of a difference it would make. I would appreciate any support on how to prepare an ideal reconsideration letter. Also, I would like to know if this reconsideration request actually makes any difference.
Thank you!

This is a slightly meandering story. Sorry for the length.
Our daughter - call her Jillian - (38F) got re-married two years ago to, say, Joe (40M). His mother is what I call a "sheeple". She worships the ground a certain Republican walks on. Now we're Republican, but very liberal and I despise this certain 'politician'. Joe warned his mother before we met NOT to bring up politics. We went out to dinner to meet, having a lovely time, then MIL to be starts talking politics. I get up and excuse myself to the restroom. This happened several times, and I always handled it basically the same way. Removing myself from the room.
As an aside, I should mention that I was mobile then. Now I use a rollatewalker because I need a hip replacement and have for several years.
Finally the Thanksgiving before the wedding, I reached my limit. I was in pain and AGAIN MIL to be brings up some case that highlighted gun use. I got up snapped at her something in opposition to what she was saying and starting to "roll" off. She sneered and said I must be a liberal snowflake. My response was that I was a Liberal Republican who believed in women's rights & gay rights. Then I literally told hubby "we're leaving" and stormed out as best I could.
Wedding came, and everything went smooth. MIL sat next to me, we chatted, we were polite. No politics. I thought everything was fine. Though MIL got to sit at head table and we did not. We sat in first table with other family members.
Holidays come around again and we get a phone call from Jillian. We're no longer going to have holidays with her and Joe because they can't put me and MIL together and MIL is single (been divorced for decades), while hubby and I have each other. I was hurt and said it wasn't fair. She has a son from her first marriage - our only grandchiold - and he lives in another state with his father. So we only see him during summer months and a few holidays each year. Jillian decided to compromise. Since her son would be with his Dad at Christmas, she had Easter the following year (2024). She would have us over for Easter,, but MIL would get Thanksgiving. Okay, that sounds fine.
A month before Easter we get a call that our niece and her family would be travelling home from Disney World and spending the Easter weekend with Jillian and Joe. Their house would be too crowded (7 total w/o us), therefore we wouldn't be allowed to spend Easter with them. I wanted to see my niece and her family too. "Maybe you can go out to dinner while they're here." I blew up, I admit it. She has cut us off once before from grandson (don't even remember why), when we ask to be invited to outings with grandson she tells us that it's too difficult for me or I would slow them down. We paid for parts of their wedding, I've given her money when married to first husband to help them out. I have an elderly father in our hometown that she keeps promising to take grandson to visit (he's only met him once and never met Joe), but always has an excuse.
Finally I threw my hands up and have washed them of her. She did send me a text wishing me a "Happy Birthday" last month, but I ignored it. Nothing for Mother's Day. None of us have blocked the others on SM. I just don't want anything to do with her anymore, grandson or not. I'm tired of swallowing my thoughts & feelings so we woudn't be cut off from him. So if we have to lose him too, at this point, so be it. My father is not going to be around many more years and I don't want them at the funeral, either. If she can't be bothered to visit him while he's alive, then don't visit when he passes.
So are WTA in overreacting and should we reach out?

Me and my boyfriend have been together for almost 2 years now and though I’ve been considered part of the family, it’s my first time to be included in her birthday party. It’s usually just their immediate family for their birthday celebrations so being personally invited by her makes me so happy but intimidated as well.
She already has most things you’d think of as she is considerably wealthy. I have a limited budget of 2k pesos as i’m still a college student but I want to give her something heartfelt and maybe memorable.
As vain as it sounds, she is very brand-conscious (stemming from some personal childhood obstacles most probably) and I don’t know if I can give her that due to my current budget restraints.
So, what else can I give her? Her birthday is around 2 weeks from now and I’m still lost. I can give extra details if needed but right now help is very much appreciated!!

This is long to read if your on mobile (I am) any advice helps, thanks.
I, (17f) am about to be a senior in high school and I’ve kind of realized how behind I feel in life.
For background I have very strict parents, and one of them is emotionally absent (I think she’s a narcissist but we will never know) and I don’t think she likes me very much. That’s besides the point however, but she’s kind of hands off in my life not in the “I don’t care what you do” way, but in the “I don’t want you to do anything but school and home” way but she won’t help me do anything else.
My dad however he’s involved more with me and I really appreciate him, but he’s still strict in the sense that if I go somewhere he has to be the one to take me and bring me back, and I have to let him know weeks in advance. This makes it really inconvenient for me socially because we live in the middle of nowhere. Or not nowhere, but an EXTREMELY car dependent area. Like a shopping center a 10 minute drive away, but a 3 hour walk along a narrow empty road kind of nowhere. Meaning no public transport, and without him I’m physically stuck at home. (Ubers not allowed). My parents also don’t really do family bonding stuff to get new experiences. Every somewhat interesting experience I’ve had in my life thus far has come from my oldest brother and his fiance who I also consider my sister who are both twice my age. Meaning I can’t really relate to them on a personal level, but since my brother knows how my parents are he really makes and effort to be there and help me in basically everything. Like if I didn’t have him, I’d never know what an amusement park like six flags is like, I would never have been to Panera bread, I’d never see a movie, id be typing this on a leapfrog, and I’d literally never do anything. at all. That’s how mundane my parents lives are and since they’re older(60s), and come from a really rough life (they migrated here) they’re kind of content with work, home, eat, sleep, repeat. Maybe once in a blue moon go out to eat, or shop at a department store for furniture or something. My mom in particular has also kind of given up being a parent because of me and my siblings age gap, it’s like I’m a ghost to her. I do a lot of stuff myself not by choice. Like If I was told to pack only my things and go, I’d literally pack my entire room. Everything in it except for the mattress and major furniture was purchased by me, or my brother and sister (his fiance). All my shoes, 80% of my clothes, and all else have been bought by me/siblings since I was 15 i think?
I’ve never had a family trip/vacation even to like somewhere local/close. Everywhere we go has to have some sort of legitimate purpose, and when I bring this up to my parents they bring up those types of trips. “Remember when we went to Florida!” But we stayed for literally a day and a half soley for the purpose of attending my brother’s graduation when I was like 8. “Remember when we went to Canada” again for a day and a half just for some church program thing (super Christian). Again when I was like 12. I’m too young to do anything for fun in their eyes or take public transport, but I’m allowed to have my job. Even then I can’t work more than once a week because they’ll complain about having to take me and pick me up as I’m reliant on them for transportation. I’ve been pushing them to get my lisence, but they keep stalling for god knows why. And to knock this out, no they are not financially struggling. On top of that I have no family aside from them/my siblings in the US, so I literally have nobody. My brother, I love him and his help but I feel like I’m holding him back from truly being able to let them go and be free of constant contact with them for other reasons, because he still wants to be in my life and help me.
Earlier I said one of my parents is emotionally absent, it’s no secret but it’s my mom, pretty sure she hates me and I don’t know why, but I’m over it. Suddenly after I turned 11 she just has this constant need to argue with me, put me down, or literally do anything just to assume the worst of me or not be happy for me. The issue with that is, she also doesn’t DO anything. My dad does literally EVERYTHING. He cooks, he takes me to school, he picks me up, he takes me to the doctor, he goes to any ceremonies, everything. It’s so bad that some of my friends deliberately avoided bringing up mothers because they thought my dad was a single dad (my mom is hands off my life so I never bring her up and she’s never in a position to meet them). So I feel 10x guilty anytime I want to even go to the grocery store because I know it’s going to fall on my dad alone and I don’t want to make it harder for him when he does a lot already. I can’t go out with any friends, but when I want to do something alone I can’t do it because it’s suspicious that I want to do it alone. Relationships have always been out of the question, the romance isn’t worth the shit show aftermath at home. And as I get older when I see people my age driving, going out, getting piercings, dye jobs, tattoos, doing weekday shifts, relationships, it kind of hits me that I’m literally so behind and have accomplished nothing outside of academics. It’s led to “what’s the point” thoughts which I have to work through alone because just my luck in the eyes of my parents depression and sewerslidal thoughts are diseases. It’s so bad that when my mom (shocker) asked me if I was depressed a few days ago I instantly said no because I knew it was not genuine. It was 100% bait that would’ve turned into a long lecture as to why I’m wrong even though I hate to self diagnose but I honestly think I have been for a while. The constant isolation (not by choice) has gotten terrible to the point where I’m starting to hear shit and see shit when I’m alone and it’s kind of freaking me out. My one and only vice is impulsive spending online because I literally have nothing to look forward to having money for.
My brothers done so much for me. He bought me my first phone, everything. I keep telling myself to just wait until I’m 18 to live life, but I then think I’d still have missed a decent or somewhat normal high school experience. All that alone time gives me the opportunity to learn a lot of random stuff, and I always end up viewed as the “mature” or “smart-experienced-therapist-like” figure (key word figure because I’m NONE of that) in my friendships and it sucks because due to past experiences of opening up to my mom, I have trouble expressing how I feel to others. No im not mature and handling my own, I just have no idea how to talk about my issues/feelings to others in person. Like no I’m not some know it all fortune teller. Sometimes I literally just want to have someone to feel stupid with you know? Like I want to be able to leave my brain at home with someone and not feel like I’m breaking character or something. I hate being told I carry myself maturely, or I’m an old soul or down to earth by people older than me etc. I don’t want to be. I hate being looked at weird or with wide eyes when I laugh, smile, or joke because for some reason people think it’s not “like me”. I don’t even know what to do, or where to start. Everyone thinks I just have shit sorted and just make moves in silence or something when I’m literally in crisis. I feel weird to even cry, ME a 17 year old girl feels like it’s a crime to cry infront of anyone. None of my friends have ever seen me cry. And I almost did once infront of two of them because of a really bad moment of clarity that my life sucks. They just stared at me like I was some specimen because they didn’t know I was capable of crying I guess? If anyone even reads this I don’t even know what to do. I don’t even know if I make any sense. And I read this over and edited it in less detail because I think my feelings are corny and it sounds stupid and ik that’s my problem even on Reddit UGH.
And disclaimer, no I am not a danger to myself or anyone else, I’m not itching to kick the bucket it’s just a big “ugh” moment.

So I have this friend, I see her once or twice a month. Last year, she got this tiny little expensive puppy, gave it a super cute name, and it seemed like her and the family really loved the dog. It was around for probably 6 months. Then, one day I came over and it was gone. She didn't say anything so I thought it was just sleeping or crated somewhere. But after a while I never saw the dog and I realized it was gone for some reason. This last summer, she got a new puppy. About 2 months ago, this dog disappeared completely too. And she never says a word about it. What is happening?

About me:
I am a 20 year old 5’ 6” asian guy who is kind of slim but working to put on some more muscle. I guess my family would say I am handsome, but they’re required to say that so maybe you should check the picture in my profile to find out for yourself. I would say I’m a kind, caring person who just likes to enjoy the simple things in life and spending time with people who I care about. My main love language is words of affirmation and quality time probably since I didn’t get too much growing up.
Some interests/hobbies of mine are gaming, going for walks, exercising/playing sports, and watching tv shows or anime. Some of the games I like are league of legends, teamfight tactics, valorant, Minecraft, overwatch, super smash bros, animal crossing, and Pokémon.
Personality wise I would say I’m quite shy and introverted, but warm up over time. I’m more of a homebody but I still like to go out sometimes, just not to parties or that sort of thing. I am also not the best at conversations. I feel like I try so hard to keep the conversation moving, but it doesn’t always happen, so if we chat I will request your patience. I have been in one relationship, but it was all online and when I was younger. I have not been physical with anyone and haven’t even had a first kiss yet. Because of this, I might not know how or what to do, so I hope you can show me or have patience and we can find out together :).
About you:
I hope you’re a kind, caring 18-23 year old person. I’d like to be somewhat attracted to you. I hope you stay in shape and also focus on your health since that is important to me. I guess your hobbies and interests don’t matter too much since we don’t need to do everything together, but some similar ones would give us something to talk about or do if we stay online for a while. And I know I am a bit shorter than average and it’s not usually everyone’s cup of tea (hopefully you can prove me wrong), but I don’t mind if you’re taller or shorter than me.
Anyways, thanks a lot for reading all this. If you send me a message you don’t have to tell me as much as this says, but a small introduction and a picture would be nice.

Hi everyone,
I wanted to share with you my response to the introduction found in the only edition of Use of the Self currently in print. I believe it's a rather misleading intro to FM Alexander's work, so I'm sharing this in the hope that I can help clear up misconceptions people may have about the Alexander Technique, not derived only from Anthony Kingsley, but many bland blog posts one tends to encounter when researching the Alexander Technique. That said, this is not intended to be an introduction of its own, but rather something experienced students, teachers, and anyone enthusiastically learning the Technique may find useful. In the tradition of Alexander himself, I've included extensive footnotes, some painfully long. I'm happy to answer any questions or otherwise discuss what I've written. Understand these are my own interpretations and opinions about what some call "the work," so take them as you will. I've taken lessons for a number of years and currently am training as a teacher, so my view of the Technique is based on these experiences, as well as my interpretations of Alexander's writings. Some of these interpretations you may object to, but I hope you find my arguments reasonable.
Response to Anthony Kingsley's Introduction to The Use of the Self
The Use of the Self may be FM Alexander's most important work, since it contains his own account of how he developed what is now called the Alexander Technique. While Alexander's other volumes are available from Mouritz, the only edition of The Use of the Self currently in print is published by Orion Spring. This edition replaces the philosopher John Dewey's introduction—which praises the technique's "genuinely scientific character"—with one by the contemporary teacher Anthony Kingsley, who is heralded on the book's front cover as a "leading Alexander Technique teacher." Therefore it is probable that many readers' first impressions of the Alexander Technique will be framed by Mr. Kingsley's opinions. I submit this is problematic, since his introduction is in my view contradictory to fundamental principles of the Alexander Technique. I write this response to address the introduction's two most dire faults: Kingsley's misrepresentation of the concepts inhibition and direction, and his dismissal of the concept of the primary control. I'll begin with the second, since it is a more straightforward error.
Primary Control
Kingsley opens his paragraphs on the primary control with the opinion that the concept should be "recast," then describes Alexander's definition of the primary control as a "particular relationship of his head, neck and back [that] acted as a master reflex that conditioned his whole organism." Then he discards this definition, claiming the head-neck-back relativity should instead be "regarded as an indicator[sic] of overall health rather than an area considered in isolation." He concedes the "region of the neck and back is a [...] barometer of our state of being," but concludes that "no single element is actually primary," since our eyes, breath, digestive system, and all other psychophysical elements are "simultaneous and interdependent" and also like barometers. Finally, he reveals his "recast" of the primary control, defining it as "the unknown and unseen self-righting and self-healing mechanism that can be restored and vitalized."
In sum, Mr. Kingsley has presented the primary control—which Alexander wrote extensively about and considered central to his technique—with an ill-defined mystical force which, accordingly, Alexander must have unwittingly stumbled upon and mistaken for a certain relativity of the head, neck and back.
Ironically, it is in The Use of the Self where Alexander wrote of discovering the necessity to first free his neck in seeking a better condition for his vocal apparatus, since that was the sine qua non of taking his head forward and up, of widening the back, and so forth, which are in turn the necessary conditions of freedom and stability in the limbs. This is the genesis of Alexander's use of the word "primary" in describing the head-neck-back relationship, and in my experience, as in Alexander's, it holds true: the sequence of directions given to oneself matters greatly, since tense feet, for example, can hardly flatten on the floor if the head is taken back and down, whereas the head can be taken "forward and up"1 to a fine degree even if there is tension in the lower extremities, particularly while sitting. Further, and maybe most significantly, the relativity of the head-neck-back rarely need change during any manner of activity, whereas the arms and legs are constantly bending, rising, stretching, and so on. Small wonder Alexander considered this relativity primary.
Of course, Kingsley is not wrong to point out the interdependence of all processes in the body. It is certainly true that undue tension in the feet creates a downward pull on the head, neck and back. Yet what is crucial to understand here is that in the context of learning and teaching the Alexander Technique, the primary control is an indispensable concept. It instructs the pupil to guide his or her attention through the body in the sequence most fit to facilitate proper relativity of all the parts, and it names succinctly that natural, visible, dynamic yet enduring relativity of the head, neck and back observable in little children and animals as well as many great musicians and athletes. Thus Kingsley discards a practical concept in favor of a truism about "interdependence;" and so we come to his second, graver error.
Direction
Here it begins to seem that what Kingsley writes of in his introduction is not the Alexander Technique at all, but in fact the Kingsley Technique, since he has redefined not only the primary control, but two other conceptual pillars of the technique: inhibition and direction.
First, he takes aim at direction, neglecting to elucidate Alexander's own definition of the concept before setting out the axiom that "aiming for postural improvements using postural directions leads to a bodymind[sic] attitude of effort and trying, which simply reinforces the problem." Dismissing as superfluous all "ideas and images about heads, necks and backs," he declares that "the trying[sic] self is the obstacle, and the shift towards a non-trying[sic] self is the solution." Finally, he offers his own definition of the directions as "the natural flow of energy and vibrancy that exists within the organism," directions which are interfered with "when we are in a condition of stress and reactivity."
Here, again, Kingsley takes a practical concept which Alexander developed based on careful observation of his own muscular action, and replaces it with a kind of mystical or spiritual phenomenon which, implicitly, only the initiated can perceive.2 Thus the famous directions are not, as Alexander described repeatedly, a series of mental orders or intentions projected to oneself before and during muscular activity along lines one has reasoned out in advance, but a "natural flow of energy and vibrancy"—just as the primary control is not, as Alexander saw it, a concrete, observable relativity of the head, neck and back, but an "unknown and unseen self-righting and self-healing mechanism." These pseudo-spiritual definitions do a massive disservice to neophyte readers, and reveal Kingsley's muddled seeing in relation to the central problem addressed by the Alexander Technique: how to shed habit and coordinate the bodymind through reasoned conception and conscious awareness.
But for a moment let us leave aside direction, since a subtler and more misleading error still lurks in Kingsley's presentation: his dismissal of conception itself. He explicitly warns that "ideas, concepts and cognitive efforts reinforce the very mental instrument that is the problem in the first place," he advises us to simply trust that "the prevention or inhibition[sic] of reaction, maintains or liberates this stream of energy [or direction] in the body."
To understand Kingsley's error, we must return to Alexander. In Man's Supreme Inheritance, Alexander sets out four stages to the "performance of any muscular action by conscious guidance and control:"

1. The conception of the movement required;
2. The inhibition of erroneous preconceived ideas which subconsciously suggest the manner in which the movement or series of movements should be performed;
3. The new and conscious mental orders which will set in motion the muscular mechanism essential to the correct performance of the action;
4. The movements (contractions and expansions) of the muscles which carry out the mental orders.

Alexander considered "conception of the movement required" the very first stage in his technique, to precede even inhibition. Thus he made clear, if indirectly, that in the context of his technique, clear conception is essential to achieving a desired end. Incidentally, this is a fact any competent artist can attest to; if a composition is not unambiguously understood and organized within one's memory, it cannot be brought to fruition. Even the most simple act, such as extending one's arm to grasp a nearby object, requires a detailed conception of distance, weight, strength, and so forth; if the object turns out to be heavier than expected, the conception of these variables and their relation to one another, and hence the muscular action, must change. This is direction in action, albeit subconscious.
Yet Kingsley belittles conception, instead leaning on concepts like "ease," "letting go" "acceptance," and the like. He is not alone in this among teachers, but in my opinion, they overlook the influence of what Alexander termed "erroneous beliefs," a concept closely related to that of "unreliable sensory appreciation." Both could be read in the spiritual lexicon alongside "letting go," etc.; but that would place their referent outside the realm of what words and concepts can describe. On the contrary, Alexander was pointing to something concrete and empirically observable: to errors of spatio-motor perception able to be observed phenomenologically and in other people's behavior; not to transcendent truths about observation itself. Thus the classic example of an Alexandrian "erroneous belief" is a person who raises their arm and believes their shoulder has remained still when it has not. The key for the pupil in this instance is to gain an accurate conception5 of their own muscular action, in reference to bodily sensations; not to simply "let go" or "do nothing."3 And this conception must come about through active tutelage—e.g. Alexander Technique lessons—or, dare I say, the way Alexander himself did it: by reasoned experimentation, conceiving hypotheses based on careful register and analysis of his own sensations, and also by watching the behavior of others. John Dewey called the technique scientific for a reason.
All of this is not to understate the importance of concepts like "release" and "effortlessness," including in the context of the Alexander Technique. Seeing more or less what is meant by them is doubtless the key to mastery of all activities, all practices, all techniques. Yet those spiritual concepts should not blot out the very concrete technique Alexander developed for improving what he called "the use of the self:" that coordination of the muscular system, achieved through conscious reason, which influences for better or worse the functioning of the whole organism.4
Inhibition
So much for direction. What about inhibition? Under the heading "Inhibition and Non-Doing," Kingsley describes Alexander's understanding of inhibition as "an artificial pause between stimulus and reaction," after which he could "give directions to himself." Then he lays down the gauntlet, stating that in the "real world […] life does not offer us the choice to inhibit:" since according to neuroscience research, "neural reactions take milliseconds and are faster than conscious thought processes." In other words, "we either react to the stimulus, or not." So, with inhibition proven impossible, Kingsley is left with no choice but to "reformulate" another of Alexander's concepts, offering us a supposedly scientifically enlightened6 view that inhibition is really "a quality of non-doing[sic] that needs to be already available in the organism before the receipt of a stimulus." This is "a way of being[sic] rather than a way of doing[sic]."
This Kingsleyan inhibition turns out to be the essence of the technique, since it is this very "condition of non-doing[sic]" the teacher is supposed to transmit, through a touch Kingsley describes as "a dance of poetry and a symphony of silence." With it, the teacher imparts a "deep sense of acceptance" by which "change emerges in the pupil."7 He goes on to compare the Alexander Technique to "Zen Buddhism, mindfulness and the philosophy of non-duality," identifying the uniqueness of the Alexander Technique in "the transmission of immediate experience." In fact, there is no Alexander Technique as such, but only inhibition:
The Chinese Tao has a concept of Wu Wei[sic], which translates as surrendering to the effortless flow of life[sic], or non-doing[sic] action. Ultimately, the Alexander Technique needs to reinvent itself and relinquish the Technique. The Alexander Teacher really teaches nothing[sic!]. But this nothing or emptiness is in fact the deepest essence of being and the fullness of life. Like grace, it drops onto us and into us when the conditions are ripe.
The problem is that Alexander's own writings indicate that inhibition is not a "quality," a "condition," or a "surrendering to the effortless flow of life." On the contrary, according to Universal Constant in Living, it is "the act of refusing to respond to the primary desire to gain an end, [which] becomes the act of responding (volitionary act) to the conscious reasoned desire to employ the means whereby that end may be gained." As clear as day: inhibition is an action in response to the stimulus of conscious desire: a conscious, continuing refusal to do a thing the way one normally does it. Alexander saw that this inhibitory act had to precede in every instance any attempt to change his habits. Everyone is well familiar with the inhibitory act. The act of not indulging an immediate desire, however small, is it. So, inhibition is not an "artificial pause," but a phenomenologically observable process within the organism, a process that can be made habitual through practice. It is no more abstract and transcendent than blinking or moving one's finger.7
Here Kingsley again takes something ordinary and concrete and makes it mystical, going so far as to "relinquish the Technique." The trouble is that there is a good reason the Alexander Technique came to be known as such. A technique is a skillful way of doing something; a mental tool; a procedure. Ways of doing can be found everywhere: techniques for dance, for romance, for healing, even for attaining nirvana or enlightenment. Each has a goal in mind and is based on what worked in the past; each resorts to concepts to explain itself; each prescribes action, or doing something a certain way. Yet Kingsley dismisses the idea of doing anything at all. Equating the Alexander Technique with "nothing," he tosses out the concepts Alexander spent decades refining, when Alexander's genius was precisely to conceive a useful, coherent way of doing things through patient observation of the phenomena he termed inhibition, direction, primary control, and the rest.
So, the technique may encompass all the acts of living, but it is still a technique. Alexander often used the term "procedure" to describe it, and I think procedure is as apt a word as any to describe the application of his technique to the acts of living. He constantly stressed the technique's sequential, stepwise nature and recorded countless practical examples of it in action, both in hypotheticals and accounts of lessons. The technique is not a metaphysics or a philosophy like non-duality; it is a practical procedure with a clear purpose: restoring
advantageous, natural relativity of the head, neck and back.
Conclusion
The technique is blindingly simple but surprisingly subtle and difficult to master; and, as far as I am aware, it is unique. Unfortunately, Kingsley is not alone in overlooking the uniqueness and subtleties of the technique in favor of spiritual truisms and platitudes. I suspect there are two main reasons for this.
The first is the tendency of serious pupils of the technique to become more open to "spirituality," both philosophically (e.g. non-duality) and in terms of sadhana (e.g. meditation, yoga, self-inquiry). Many are enthusiastic about the similarities between the Alexander Technique and, for example, mindfulness practice. It is certainly true that the technique requires the pupil to have some degree of "mindfulness," or the ability to realize when the mind has wandered; and it is also true that a few people who devote themselves to the technique come upon some of the same insights one might find in spiritual practice. Yet spiritual insight is not the purpose of the technique. In my opinion, the Alexander Technique is a relative of energy practices such as Hatha yoga, qigong, and TRE (trauma release exercises). Such techniques are often used in tandem with spiritual practices meant for the cultivation of insight, but their purpose has traditionally been preparatory and salutary, not "spiritual." One need not stray too esoteric to encounter the idea that the real goal of spirituality has nothing to do with "ways of doing." On the other hand, Qigong explicitly aims to regulate qi in the body; kundalini yoga is concerned with the flow of prana; the Alexander Technique seeks to restore the good use of the primary control. More practically, the technique teaches mental discipline, and ultimately the ability of the nervous system to regulate itself. Such a practice may lay the groundwork for spiritual realization, but it is by no means indistinguishable from it.
While there is no point speculating about Alexander's private insights, one thing can be certain: he left us a definite procedure with a practical, concrete purpose—not a transcendental one. Yet Kingsley's introduction continually implies the Alexander Technique is an essentially spiritual practice with heavenly fruit. Disparaging the core concepts that constitute the Alexander Technique, he invites us instead to simply "surrender," "let go in faith," and blindly trust that its real essence—nothing less than Wu Wei—will be transmitted through the "rare, "unconditional" touch of the teacher.
The second, more obvious reason Alexander has been so misunderstood is that he rarely wrote concisely, and in any case, recognition and conception of the primary control can never be refined through words, but only through unfamiliar sensory experiences—either reasoned out, as Alexander did, or in the hands of a good teacher. Hence there is more than a kernel of truth to Kingsley's view of the "supreme value of guidance with the hands;" yet I differ from him in that I insist the Alexander Technique cannot be divorced from intellectual understanding and, indeed, conception.
The Use of the Self and Alexander's other works certainly were not without their flaws, but at their best they illuminate concepts which are nuanced, rich, and useful when applied. Primary control, direction and inhibition are three such concepts. Whatever their flaws, Alexander's books point the way to a wonderful technique, and they deserve thoughtful, probing introductions like Dewey's—not dismissals.
1 Like many other Alexandrian terms, the concrete meaning of "forward and up" seems incredibly controversial among Alexander Technique teachers. While I conceive it roughly as freedom of the atlanto-occipital joint, the term cannot be understood in isolation from the rest of the parts—namely, from one's conception of the primary control. It seems to experience it, one must discover it, as Alexander did, or be shown it by a teacher.
2 This is not to say there are not phenomena only some people perceive.
3An overemphasis on "letting go" and the like obscures the fact that Alexander always described the technique as consisting of stages or sequential steps, which in my opinion constitute the "means whereby" he wrote of.
4 "Use of the self" is another problematic term. Related to the concept of "good form" and "good technique" among athletes and musicians, it refers essentially to coordination of the musculature along reasoned lines, which is not separate from conception of the primary control. Equal and opposite is the term "misuse," since one's idea of misuse depends on one's idea of good use. Different teachers understand the term differently. Kingsley states that "bodily tensions and distortions become fixed and reinforced as we react to the general stimuli of living." True enough. Yet he goes on to imply it is associated only with fear, anxiety and distress. Again he couples this concept to the language of contemporary spirituality, trumpeting that it "alienates us from our own true nature." This is to completely ignore the point Alexander returned to again and again in his own writing: that the use of the self is inextricably linked with conception. No doubt, tension and imbalance are very often inextricable from fear. But there may be another class of misuse: one based on misconceptions about the body, unexamined movement patterns from childhood which have little or nothing to do with manifestations of stress or emotions in the body. I suspect one may experience profound psychophysical quietude yet still tend to throw their head back and down in relation to their neck and back, especially in movement.
5Kingsley writes that the teacher's touch indicates the "negation of trying and doing within the pupil." Even a token mention of guidance viz. the relativity of the body parts is nowhere to be found. Yet in my opinion this discussion of touch is misleading, since nothing like it can be found at all in Alexander's writings. On the contrary, Alexander stressed that the teacher's role was to demonstrate manually the proper relativity of the pupil's parts, with the means whereby of the technique; not to transmit "a way of being," nor indeed enlightenment or gnosis.
6 Neuroscientific findings relating to will and volition have proliferated in recent years. They may raise fundamental questions about the nature of self and will, but in my opinion they have little to do with the Alexander Technique, no more than they do with dancing or playing an instrument. If there are really recognizable activities Alexander termed "inhibition" and "direction," then his writings are timeless, since they speak from direct observation and experiment, not philosophy about "free will" and the like.
7 In spiritual literature one encounters, almost universally, the idea that there is no "doer" of action, or no "doer" but God. Hence Kingsley is implying that Alexandrian inhibition is somehow related to this concept, which Buddha famously summarized: "Events happen, deeds are done, but there is no doer thereof." In my opinion, the Alexander Technique has nothing more to do with this than does reading, writing, or playing a game. There may be "procedures followed, but no follower thereof."

Hail, fellow Helldivers!
I’m a game dev with over 20 years experience, half of that on live service games or MMOs, all of it on core combat for action games, on game teams ranging from 10 people to over 600.
I play a ton of hard co-op action games, and I was a huge fan of Helldivers 1. I’m honestly in awe of how good Helldivers 2 is, even after the hundreds of hours I’ve put into it, and how they’ve sustained the pace of updates for so long after launch.
Yes, this is a throwaway Reddit account, I wanted to share some of my thoughts without inviting death threats.
Development
This game must have been in development since shortly after Arrowhead’s last released game, Helldivers 1 (plus whatever DLC and maintenance), so, 8 years give or take (I sent Pilestedt a congratulatory email, but presumably he’s drowning in them, haha).
I ran into the devs at GDC 2019, shared a few drinks and we talked shop about our similar games. They were super cagey but very excited about what they were working on, even moreso when they found out I was a huge fan of HD1. They were clearly already deep in development of HD2 at that point.
This has been discussed elsewhere, but it adds to how impressive this game is: this is the same engine (Autodesk Stingray) as Helldivers 1, a top-down game with 2D gameplay and much lower visual fidelity. Stingray is no longer supported by Autodesk as of sometime after 2018, so most of the features HD2 required would have been built in-house by Arrowhead. To my knowledge there’s only one other studio actively using the engine, and that’s Fat Shark, the developers of (most recently) Warhammer 40,000: Darktide.
The AH team has grown massively in size over the past 8 years. I don’t have the exact numbers, but it’s a 5x to 10x increase in size. Scaling up that fast and not ruining your company culture is super hard, and you can see plenty of other studios that have tried to grow so they can build bigger games and have fallen apart doing it.
Helldivers 2 easily has a AAA level of polish. I’ve gone back to HD1 recently, which at the time looked and played super well, and the improvements are night and day. HD2’s production values compare favorably to any random AAA game released in the last few years
Weapons
Building first or third person weapons to this level of quality is extremely expensive. A unique gun for a AAA first person shooter might take 4-6 weeks of artist time and the same (or more) of designer time to set up and tune the gameplay. For any completely new type of weapon, factor in around 6 months of animator time, and a few weeks for a variant that has a different reload animation or similar. E.g. all rifle-sized shotguns might use the same base shotgun animation set, but the continuous reload shotguns would have a different reload animation than the Breaker family. Then you need VFX and audio too.
Vehicles are even moreso, taking months for each, more if they can seat multiple players or have points that contact the ground (e.g. wheels).
Environments
Building environments that look this good is expensive even if you know what you want, having built a prototype version, you then have to iterate on it while you refine the gameplay and then build the final art. Building environments that look this good and are procedurally generated in as freeform a way as in HD2 is mind-boggling. Let alone doing that in a way that runs fast enough. Sure once it’s all up and running you have a ton of variety for relatively cheap, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen the proc gen create a serious gameplay problem, and that indicates very clever design and thorough testing.
AI
AI that works as well as this is expensive to build, and typically computationally expensive at runtime too. In games like Call of Duty or whatever, you have a static environment, with maybe 10-20 active AI at a time, prebuilt navmesh (which is a hand-drawn or generated map that allows AI to move around the environment without having to calculate valid geometry constantly at runtime), and level or encounter designers have hand scripted a lot of what looks like emergent AI behavior. HD2 can’t do any of that; there can be hundreds of enemies active at once, the environments are procedurally generated, AND terrain can be deformed, buildings can be destroyed etc. The AI can’t be scripted to the same degree as on a static map, probably the devs have hints that are procedurally added to the world and not much more. It helps that all of the enemies we’ve seen so far are the “implacably advancing” kind, typically they don’t have any complex behaviors, and instead the design of the character themselves and their attacks carries the gameplay. Smart design. The Illuminate in HD1 were much sneakier, it’ll be interesting to see how that faction translates to a full 3D game with a lot more enemies active at once.
UI
This game has a lot of quality of life features that it’s easy to take for granted, but are hard to build, and hard to retrofit to an existing game, for example:
· A zoomable, pingable minimap (IMO this is a best-in-class minimap implementation)
· A ping system
· Battlepass implementation allowing for not expiring old battle passes.
And all of this is UI-heavy, where UI is one of the most expensive things to make in AAA games. Every project I’ve shipped, UI has been a bottleneck. It doesn’t help that every company basically builds a UI system from scratch, since engines rarely have something shippable built in, and Scaleform (the most prominent UI middleware) went away. And then it takes a ton of iteration to get to a point where a feature is powerful and intuitive to players.
Gamefeel
If you play much of the most highly-regarded AAA shooters, you might not like the feel of some of the weapons in Helldivers 2 by comparison. They often feel slow to use, hard to aim, and punishing of misses, bad timing or bad positioning. Some of this is a polish thing and probably isn’t intended, e.g. scopes that look janky in first person, misaligned reticles and similar stuff. Most of it though looks deliberate, and supports the gameplay they’re laser-focused on building. The weapons are largely useful in very specific situations, and are not power fantasy moments for the player. There are serious tradeoffs, including “if I’m caught by a melee enemy with a Recoilless Rifle out, I’m in trouble”, the most powerful support weapons preventing you from bringing a shield, the snappiest weapons typically only being useful against weak enemies, etc. Most mass-market shooters sacrifice this extreme level of tradeoff in service of making the game feel better to play, and can lack gameplay variety as a result.
Given all of the above, most of the content that Arrowhead has released post ship must have been built alongside the rest of the game. It’s unlikely that they’re able to turn around 3 new weapons, new giant enemies, new mission types etc every month for several months in a row building them from scratch since ship. And yet, the game at launch still felt complete. This is a hard balance to strike. I wonder how much near-shippable content they have in their war-chest, and whether they’ll be able to generate more quickly enough to satisfy the appetite of the community on an ongoing basis.
Balance
Typically on a live game, the same designers build gameplay, ship it, and then balance it in patches post-ship. Sometimes a studio will have a separate “live team”, either dedicated, or rotating members of the dev team through it, but this isn’t common and it doesn’t look like Arrowhead splits the team up like this.
In any case, players always ask why developers ever nerf anything, and it’s for three reasons:
· Typically only a small number of things (weapons, abilities, heroes) are dominant, and a very large number are OK or weak in the current meta – buffing everything else would be extremely expensive, and since it’s the same people doing this work and building new content, it’d reduce the amount of new content the team could make. So it’s much more efficient to tamp down the overpowered things as a priority, and buff some other options at the same time.
· “No nerf, only buff” results in player power creep over time, which makes the game easier, and eventually will require a correction either in the form of a large scale nerf pass or buffs to enemies – both of these are bad: players hate widespread nerfs, and buffing enemies can put the game in a degenerate state where lethality is skewed, or only the best players can compete because they have all the best gear, or you end up in an arms race between player design and enemy design as both teams try to react to player feedback or overall game difficulty.
· Having a small number of overpowered things is much more destructive to a varied meta than a small number of weak things. Say you have 100 abilities and 3 of them are overpowered. Well, now everyone’s only using 3% of the possible content. Say you have 100 abilities and 3 of them are too weak.The other 97% is viable. Overly simplistic, clearly there’s a gradient, but you get the idea.
BTW the pace at which Arrowhead has updated balance is extremely fast for a large PvE game. Some small PvP-only games can react this quickly to a developing meta, but on large-scale games it takes weeks or months of testing and platform certification to ship balance updates on consoles. And “hotfixes”, i.e. very quick responses to critical issues, have a high level of scrutiny on them, i.e. lots of justifiable red tape, and often require crunch.
Community Interaction
It’s extremely rare for developers from large studios at any level to talk directly to the community, mostly because the gaming community burned those bridges long ago, by doxing devs they don’t agree with, sending them death threats, or just generally abusing them publicly and anonymously. No way in hell would I be public facing, and no one at any studio should be required to unless it’s explicitly part of their job. And even then, I feel for community managers. Direct communication from devs is a precious thing, and not one that should be taken for granted or used as an avenue for abuse.
*Salutes* to Arrowhead
Huge, huge kudos to Arrowhead. This game is an absolute triumph. To go from a small team making top-down games, to a medium-sized AAA team that shipped a game that catapulted right to the top of the most-played charts and game of the year lists and has stayed there is a massive accomplishment. I hope you’re all seeing a big payday from this success!

Well first of all, I know that I could be a lot worse off and I truly feel for everyone on this sub, some stories are truly heartbreaking. But I don’t feel myself anymore and I feel myself going a lot worse, so I think it would really help to address the problem to prevent it from getting worse.
Firstly my (17F) parents are pretty good parents and all, but I just feel like something is lacking. I’m not being an ungrateful daughter that can just point out faults but something is just… off. I’m quite convinced that my dad has anger management issues, since he’s usually fine. But sometimes something that he would react normally to he EXPLODES. He can also get vicious with me now and again, I’ll say around once a month. In general he’s pretty chilled, but when he’s angry it gets bad.
Next, there’s my mom, who I’m quite sure might have narcissistic personality disorder, explaining it will need a whole other story, but she and my dad just don’t seem to care about my feelings as much as, let’s say, my friends parents. At school I was being borderline bullied, I kept it secret for almost a year and I remember the dread of going in, and when I was there I felt pure fear when I would be in the same class or close proximity to any of the bullies. I could even feel my legs shaking. I would skip PE so I didn’t feel a fool in front of them. And I skipped school quite a few times without my parents knowing. When I finally built up the courage to tell my mom, she didn’t do much at all. She refused to let me move school or be homeschooled, and when I’d come home upset she’d be annoyed at me for being ‘weak’, she also said she was GLAD I was being picked on since it helps ‘build character’. She also refused to do anything since school was nearly over, and she said that I need to focus on my final exams. I honestly think I would have done way better on those exams without having those bullies on my mind for the last couple years. Now I’m looking for a job, which I still don’t have since it’s very hard to find one and a lot won’t take me on coz I’m under 18. My grandma suggested I go with my mom about once a month to her self employed business, so I at least feel a purpose. When I brought this up to my mom she flat out REFUSED and said she ‘has a reputation she needs to keep’. I have begged to go on a training course like a couple of my friends have, but again my parents have said no and that everyone else is doing nails like my friends. I told them that at least I’d be doing something and they can’t complain about that anymore, and that it’s MY life so they can’t dictate what career path I go down.
Another problem in my life right now is church and my grandma. I loved going to church and I love the idea of it, but in my church, the audience can contribute when asked questions in a certain part of the service, which I have basically done all my life. People LOVE it when I comment and they always give me praise, but it has made me popular. So much that if I miss church once, there will be worried people asking my family where I am and my phone will be flooded with text messages. I hate to sound narcissistic but this doesn’t happen to any of the other kids, and I’m normally left thinking ‘why is it always me?’ Whenever any one of my family members is talking to someone from church, my name always gets a mention without fail, they always praise me and even though they’re being kind I’m getting fed up of hearing about myself all the time. Another reason why Im not so sure about being popular is because there’s a big gossip culture in my church and if you step out of line ONCE, everyone’s talking about you. It’s honestly like paparazzi. While some lesser known members of my church can easily slip away and do things unnoticed, I can’t take that risk. I feel like I always need to be perfect and it’s putting so much pressure on me. I have also had to go up on the platform many times, and as much as I don’t like saying it, performing from a young age has contributed to me craving attention. I have a love hate relationship with me being popular since I like to feel wanted but I don’t want to be a puppet. Another problem is that I don’t want to go to church tomorrow and my grandma is FORCING me to. She says she’ll drag me there and make me go. She has 3 grandkids but it’s always me getting pressurised. One of the other 2 wanted to leave the church altogether, but he was just sweet talked into coming back. When I took one day off my grandma threatened having those with authority have a serious word with me. One of my friends has also recently got baptised, I’m so happy for her but my grandma was complaining that I’m not making any progress and that all of my friends will be baptised and that I will have no status to my name still. She was also saying what a great job an 8 year old was doing at church and knew all of the bible scriptures. She told me that I probably couldn’t do that when, first of all, it’s not a competition and second, I actually stood up to a teacher in school about my faith. But this is really depressing me with all this pressure on me there’s literally 3 grandkids and it’s always me getting in trouble for not being good enough, not commenting enough, not performing enough.
Sorry that I ranted, there’s just so much I need to get off my chest. I literally wake up some days with no purpose or hope. I tell my parents about how I feel at church and all I get is the shrug of their shoulders. I’m just curious if it’s valid for all of this to be affecting my mental health and if my parents or church is taking a bigger toll on it. Any advice is always appreciated :)

Well first of all, I know that I could be a lot worse off and I truly feel for everyone on this sub, some stories are truly heartbreaking. But I don’t feel myself anymore and I feel myself going a lot worse, so I think it would really help to address the problem to prevent it from getting worse.
Firstly my (17F) parents are pretty good parents and all, but I just feel like something is lacking. I’m not being an ungrateful daughter that can just point out faults but something is just… off. I’m quite convinced that my dad has anger management issues, since he’s usually fine. But sometimes something that he would react normally to he EXPLODES. He can also get vicious with me now and again, I’ll say around once a month. In general he’s pretty chilled, but when he’s angry it gets bad.
Next, there’s my mom, who I’m quite sure might have narcissistic personality disorder, explaining it will need a whole other story, but she and my dad just don’t seem to care about my feelings as much as, let’s say, my friends parents. At school I was being borderline bullied, I kept it secret for almost a year and I remember the dread of going in, and when I was there I felt pure fear when I would be in the same class or close proximity to any of the bullies. I could even feel my legs shaking. I would skip PE so I didn’t feel a fool in front of them. And I skipped school quite a few times without my parents knowing. When I finally built up the courage to tell my mom, she didn’t do much at all. She refused to let me move school or be homeschooled, and when I’d come home upset she’d be annoyed at me for being ‘weak’, she also said she was GLAD I was being picked on since it helps ‘build character’. She also refused to do anything since school was nearly over, and she said that I need to focus on my final exams. I honestly think I would have done way better on those exams without having those bullies on my mind for the last couple years. Now I’m looking for a job, which I still don’t have since it’s very hard to find one and a lot won’t take me on coz I’m under 18. My grandma suggested I go with my mom about once a month to her self employed business, so I at least feel a purpose. When I brought this up to my mom she flat out REFUSED and said she ‘has a reputation she needs to keep’. I have begged to go on a training course like a couple of my friends have, but again my parents have said no and that everyone else is doing nails like my friends. I told them that at least I’d be doing something and they can’t complain about that anymore, and that it’s MY life so they can’t dictate what career path I go down.
Another problem in my life right now is church and my grandma. I loved going to church and I love the idea of it, but in my church, the audience can contribute when asked questions in a certain part of the service, which I have basically done all my life. People LOVE it when I comment and they always give me praise, but it has made me popular. So much that if I miss church once, there will be worried people asking my family where I am and my phone will be flooded with text messages. I hate to sound narcissistic but this doesn’t happen to any of the other kids, and I’m normally left thinking ‘why is it always me?’ Whenever any one of my family members is talking to someone from church, my name always gets a mention without fail, they always praise me and even though they’re being kind I’m getting fed up of hearing about myself all the time. Another reason why Im not so sure about being popular is because there’s a big gossip culture in my church and if you step out of line ONCE, everyone’s talking about you. It’s honestly like paparazzi. While some lesser known members of my church can easily slip away and do things unnoticed, I can’t take that risk. I feel like I always need to be perfect and it’s putting so much pressure on me. I have also had to go up on the platform many times, and as much as I don’t like saying it, performing from a young age has contributed to me craving attention. I have a love hate relationship with me being popular since I like to feel wanted but I don’t want to be a puppet. Another problem is that I don’t want to go to church tomorrow and my grandma is FORCING me to. She says she’ll drag me there and make me go. She has 3 grandkids but it’s always me getting pressurised. One of the other 2 wanted to leave the church altogether, but he was just sweet talked into coming back. When I took one day off my grandma threatened having those with authority have a serious word with me. One of my friends has also recently got baptised, I’m so happy for her but my grandma was complaining that I’m not making any progress and that all of my friends will be baptised and that I will have no status to my name still. She was also saying what a great job an 8 year old was doing at church and knew all of the bible scriptures. She told me that I probably couldn’t do that when, first of all, it’s not a competition and second, I actually stood up to a teacher in school about my faith. But this is really depressing me with all this pressure on me there’s literally 3 grandkids and it’s always me getting in trouble for not being good enough, not commenting enough, not performing enough.
Sorry that I ranted, there’s just so much I need to get off my chest. I literally wake up some days with no purpose or hope. I tell my parents about how I feel at church and all I get is the shrug of their shoulders. I’m just curious if it’s valid for all of this to be affecting my mental health and if my parents or church is taking a bigger toll on it. Any advice is always appreciated :)

Well first of all, I know that I could be a lot worse off and I truly feel for everyone on this sub, some stories are truly heartbreaking. But I don’t feel myself anymore and I feel myself going a lot worse, so I think it would really help to address the problem to prevent it from getting worse.
Firstly my (17F) parents are pretty good parents and all, but I just feel like something is lacking. I’m not being an ungrateful daughter that can just point out faults but something is just… off. I’m quite convinced that my dad has anger management issues, since he’s usually fine. But sometimes something that he would react normally to he EXPLODES. He can also get vicious with me now and again, I’ll say around once a month. In general he’s pretty chilled, but when he’s angry it gets bad.
Next, there’s my mom, who I’m quite sure might have narcissistic personality disorder, explaining it will need a whole other story, but she and my dad just don’t seem to care about my feelings as much as, let’s say, my friends parents. At school I was being borderline bullied, I kept it secret for almost a year and I remember the dread of going in, and when I was there I felt pure fear when I would be in the same class or close proximity to any of the bullies. I could even feel my legs shaking. I would skip PE so I didn’t feel a fool in front of them. And I skipped school quite a few times without my parents knowing. When I finally built up the courage to tell my mom, she didn’t do much at all. She refused to let me move school or be homeschooled, and when I’d come home upset she’d be annoyed at me for being ‘weak’, she also said she was GLAD I was being picked on since it helps ‘build character’. She also refused to do anything since school was nearly over, and she said that I need to focus on my final exams. I honestly think I would have done way better on those exams without having those bullies on my mind for the last couple years. Now I’m looking for a job, which I still don’t have since it’s very hard to find one and a lot won’t take me on coz I’m under 18. My grandma suggested I go with my mom about once a month to her self employed business, so I at least feel a purpose. When I brought this up to my mom she flat out REFUSED and said she ‘has a reputation she needs to keep’. I have begged to go on a training course like a couple of my friends have, but again my parents have said no and that everyone else is doing nails like my friends. I told them that at least I’d be doing something and they can’t complain about that anymore, and that it’s MY life so they can’t dictate what career path I go down.
Another problem in my life right now is church and my grandma. I loved going to church and I love the idea of it, but in my church, the audience can contribute when asked questions in a certain part of the service, which I have basically done all my life. People LOVE it when I comment and they always give me praise, but it has made me popular. So much that if I miss church once, there will be worried people asking my family where I am and my phone will be flooded with text messages. I hate to sound narcissistic but this doesn’t happen to any of the other kids, and I’m normally left thinking ‘why is it always me?’ Whenever any one of my family members is talking to someone from church, my name always gets a mention without fail, they always praise me and even though they’re being kind I’m getting fed up of hearing about myself all the time. Another reason why Im not so sure about being popular is because there’s a big gossip culture in my church and if you step out of line ONCE, everyone’s talking about you. It’s honestly like paparazzi. While some lesser known members of my church can easily slip away and do things unnoticed, I can’t take that risk. I feel like I always need to be perfect and it’s putting so much pressure on me. I have also had to go up on the platform many times, and as much as I don’t like saying it, performing from a young age has contributed to me craving attention. I have a love hate relationship with me being popular since I like to feel wanted but I don’t want to be a puppet. Another problem is that I don’t want to go to church tomorrow and my grandma is FORCING me to. She says she’ll drag me there and make me go. She has 3 grandkids but it’s always me getting pressurised. One of the other 2 wanted to leave the church altogether, but he was just sweet talked into coming back. When I took one day off my grandma threatened having those with authority have a serious word with me. One of my friends has also recently got baptised, I’m so happy for her but my grandma was complaining that I’m not making any progress and that all of my friends will be baptised and that I will have no status to my name still. She was also saying what a great job an 8 year old was doing at church and knew all of the bible scriptures. She told me that I probably couldn’t do that when, first of all, it’s not a competition and second, I actually stood up to a teacher in school about my faith. But this is really depressing me with all this pressure on me there’s literally 3 grandkids and it’s always me getting in trouble for not being good enough, not commenting enough, not performing enough.
Sorry that I ranted, there’s just so much I need to get off my chest. I literally wake up some days with no purpose or hope. I tell my parents about how I feel at church and all I get is the shrug of their shoulders. I’m just curious if it’s valid for all of this to be affecting my mental health and if my parents or church is taking a bigger toll on it. Any advice is always appreciated :)

I’m typing this as I hold my five week old baby. When I was 32 weeks pregnant with him, my husband got into a very serious car accident literally right in front of our house – he wasn’t even fully out of the driveway, I was sitting at our dining room table when I heard the crash, ran outside in my bathrobe with no shoes on and pulled him covered in blood from the car while calling 911.
His injuries were very serious and could’ve been life altering but he somehow made a complete, miraculous recovery and against all odds was somehow back to normal by the time our baby was born. Our car narrowly avoided being totaled, spent a few months in the shop and we literally just got it back last night. There were a few nights in the immediate aftermath of his accident where I had vivid nightmares about the sound of the crash and woke up screaming thinking there had been another accident, but we got through it and we’ve all been feeling really well. We were even talking last night about how much has changed in the few months the car has been in the shop and how grateful and safe we feel.
Three hours ago, a small child was hit by a truck and catastrophically injured right in front of my house, right in the same spot where my husband’s accident occurred twelve weeks ago. My mom is an RN and she was here snuggling with the baby when we heard the crash so she ran out to evaluate the child and work with emergency responders to stabilize him while I called 911 and cared for the baby. The injured child was riding a bike with no helmet, thrown several yards and landed with his head on the curb so you can imagine how terrible the situation is. When the fire department arrived, they also got into an accident and the fire truck crushed another large truck that was parked on the street, but for about a minute we believed the truck had crushed another person so I am feeling extremely paranoid and unsafe right now.
I feel so stupid writing this because I don’t actually know what I’m looking for. I’ve had remarkably good postpartum mental health – no signs of PPA or PPD or intrusive thoughts, just sort of a light bliss – but this has triggered serious anxiety and I’m concerned about my ability to get through the night. I feel psychologically unwell enough that I would normally ask my mom to come spend the night with us, so there’s an extra set of hands to care for the baby, but she’s extremely traumatized as well, perhaps more so than I am because she physically cared for the child and evaluated his injuries.
Tomorrow was supposed to be my first time out of the house without the baby but now I can’t stop freaking out. I keep having terrible visions of things happening to my family. We heard another fire truck elsewhere in our neighborhood and I keep envisioning it accidentally jumping the curb and driving into my house. I keep picturing my baby’s beautiful head being crushed on the pavement, or imagining getting the call that my son and husband were in an accident together and having trying to choose which hospital I would go to.
My 6 week postpartum appointment is on Thursday and I’m obviously going to bring it up then, and I’m going to start making phone calls on Monday to see how quickly I can start EMDR treatment, but… what do I do until then? How do we make it through tonight? I’m so afraid to get in the car and even go to any of our upcoming appointments, terrified to put my baby in the car, terrified to leave the house, terrified to stay here. Newborn sleep is already naturally scarce, but I’m afraid of nightmares and anxiety keeping me up now, especially because I keep experiencing unwelcome memories of what these car accidents sounded like and all of the screaming after.
My most practical and immediate concern is that I may inadvertently endanger baby somehow while sleep deprived – so if anyone has any sort of words of wisdom or advice to share about how to safely parent in the first few days following a traumatic event I would really love to hear them. I’m sorry this is so long and rambling, thank you for reading.

I was listening to the episode and it kind of dawned on me that my grandmother (who grew up in Nazi Germany) may have been deeply affected by this parenting style. Here’s why:
So she was alive up until I was a year or so old. I live in the U.S. to an American father and a Guatemalan mother. I would consider my parents to be very doting, and my mother particularly loving. My grandfather was as well (he was also American). My grandmother however, seemed to really dislike this.
My mom tells me she would often complain that I should’ve been left alone when I was crying, that I was receiving too much attention from my parents and grandfather, she actually even banned my grandfather from getting me presents because in her words “there are a million babies, why is this one special”. Didn’t work out for her since after she passed my grandfather paid for my entire college tuition (he was the best), which is a bit funny.
Unrelated but she was also super racist to my mother about Guatemala (which honestly doesn’t surprise me, no clue what her political affiliations were. I can’t imagine she was too radical though as my grandfather was pretty liberal).
So I’m listening to the episode and I’m like “damn! thats my grandma to a T!”. I never knew her well so this fills in some gaps for me. I have no connection to the german side of my family at all either so no clue what it must have been like there.

Hi all. I (M31) am in a relationship with my partner (F34) for a year and she’s someone I love very much but I feel she’s getting more abusive and I don’t know how to react anymore.
For background, I and my partner have known each other for a couple of years and fell in love since first sight when neither of us don’t believe in such thing. Enjoys activities together, great memories when things are going well but rather incompatible when it comes to arguments. Our arguments revolve around me not being able to meet her expectations around time. She hates when I take my time to think before speaking and when I don’t meet her schedule or I don’t meet my own schedule.
Although we bounce back very very quickly after resolved, the arguments in itself are highly emotional and take a toll on us pretty badly. There are a few things to note: * Cultural differences (West for me, East for her) but I refuse to pinpoint this as a major source of why we cannot communicate well. * Difference in being raised. I am self made, grew up with loving family, have siblings and spent a lot of time in childhood on sports and musical performance. She is an only child, absent parents so she grew up on her own however well funded by family, an academic. We are both fairly comfortable financially - top 10% earners.
My partner fights emotionally. She says a lot of mean things, swears at me, raises her voice, slams doors & items around and refuse to give me space when I need and ask for it. Mean things said in the past - I am poor, no emotional quality, fat, lazy, having an employee mindset, boring, evil. I also get kicked out several times - being a house or car in a middle of a trip. I don’t believe any of the things she says is true and I always call for a time out when things get too heated. But she never gives me space and continues on her emotional rampage giving me no choice than to escape being walking out of the conversation or driving out of the apartment if she corners me everywhere in the apartment.
What she said about me is that I am cold and pointy. My words are concise and pointy enough to hurt her, without the need to swear or raise my voice. She says she loves me very much and cares for me, and it hurts her so much to see me walking away, me saying mean words and being unfair. Statements I’ve made that triggered her: * Focuses too much on external versus internal (worrying too much on presentation and status when it comes to her friends, careful with her words with others but abusive verbally internally with me) * Saying that she is abusive and justified her abuse on me (she says she says things because I am tense), that this has no place in a relationship. A red flag in character. * Thinking that her growing up without siblings caused her to be the centre of attention and if she doesn’t get her way, she becomes unkind, throws a tantrum and says things without thinking of consequences.
The last conversation. She called me evil, that I scare her and hurt her. This triggered me and I communicated this to her. Being someone that is evil, intimidating and someone that hurts her emotionally is the last thing I wanted to be as a person so I decided enough is enough, and I decided to leave the apartment. If she really thinks this way, then I’m not the person for her and good riddance. I’m not going to be in a relationship where I’m seen as this evil person that scares his own partner. I drew this line in the sand and communicated to her. She maintains that I am not caring and I should be caring and comforting her while being emotional, but I can neither care nor comfort her when she’s abusive towards me. I’ve tried to hug her multiple times with success but it’s so painful and frustrating to go against the grain in hugging someone so emotionally abusive, it sickens me and builds resentment (also communicated to her).
Am I being unfair? That I have to read between the lines to see her intention ignoring the abuse of what is said to me at the time? I need to always remain present and take the abusive, the screams. My need of space is unwarranted because I leave her in pain which is uncaring. That I’m ignoring her emotional needs at the time of argument.
Considered therapy but no one made the move and I thought this issue can be resolved internally by being kind, thinking before speaking on how it can impact the other person, apologising after saying mean things and respecting how each other communicates in their own pace without the need to call names on the other person.
TL:DR. In a relationship I consider loving but also abusive, wanting to resolve in a way that does not involve me losing dignity as a person. I care about words being said but she says things without consequences, and cannot control her emotions & words.

Well first of all, I know that I could be a lot worse off and I truly feel for everyone on this sub, some stories are truly heartbreaking. But I don’t feel myself anymore and I feel myself going a lot worse, so I think it would really help to address the problem to prevent it from getting worse.
Firstly my (17F) parents are pretty good parents and all, but I just feel like something is lacking. I’m not being an ungrateful daughter that can just point out faults but something is just… off. I’m quite convinced that my dad has anger management issues, since he’s usually fine. But sometimes something that he would react normally to he EXPLODES. He can also get vicious with me now and again, I’ll say around once a month. In general he’s pretty chilled, but when he’s angry it gets bad.
Next, there’s my mom, who I’m quite sure might have narcissistic personality disorder, explaining it will need a whole other story, but she and my dad just don’t seem to care about my feelings as much as, let’s say, my friends parents. At school I was being borderline bullied, I kept it secret for almost a year and I remember the dread of going in, and when I was there I felt pure fear when I would be in the same class or close proximity to any of the bullies. I could even feel my legs shaking. I would skip PE so I didn’t feel a fool in front of them. And I skipped school quite a few times without my parents knowing. When I finally built up the courage to tell my mom, she didn’t do much at all. She refused to let me move school or be homeschooled, and when I’d come home upset she’d be annoyed at me for being ‘weak’, she also said she was GLAD I was being picked on since it helps ‘build character’. She also refused to do anything since school was nearly over, and she said that I need to focus on my final exams. I honestly think I would have done way better on those exams without having those bullies on my mind for the last couple years. Now I’m looking for a job, which I still don’t have since it’s very hard to find one and a lot won’t take me on coz I’m under 18. My grandma suggested I go with my mom about once a month to her self employed business, so I at least feel a purpose. When I brought this up to my mom she flat out REFUSED and said she ‘has a reputation she needs to keep’. I have begged to go on a training course like a couple of my friends have, but again my parents have said no and that everyone else is doing nails like my friends. I told them that at least I’d be doing something and they can’t complain about that anymore, and that it’s MY life so they can’t dictate what career path I go down.
Another problem in my life right now is church and my grandma. I loved going to church and I love the idea of it, but in my church, the audience can contribute when asked questions in a certain part of the service, which I have basically done all my life. People LOVE it when I comment and they always give me praise, but it has made me popular. So much that if I miss church once, there will be worried people asking my family where I am and my phone will be flooded with text messages. I hate to sound narcissistic but this doesn’t happen to any of the other kids, and I’m normally left thinking ‘why is it always me?’ Whenever any one of my family members is talking to someone from church, my name always gets a mention without fail, they always praise me and even though they’re being kind I’m getting fed up of hearing about myself all the time. Another reason why Im not so sure about being popular is because there’s a big gossip culture in my church and if you step out of line ONCE, everyone’s talking about you. It’s honestly like paparazzi. While some lesser known members of my church can easily slip away and do things unnoticed, I can’t take that risk. I feel like I always need to be perfect and it’s putting so much pressure on me. I have also had to go up on the platform many times, and as much as I don’t like saying it, performing from a young age has contributed to me craving attention. I have a love hate relationship with me being popular since I like to feel wanted but I don’t want to be a puppet. Another problem is that I don’t want to go to church tomorrow and my grandma is FORCING me to. She says she’ll drag me there and make me go. She has 3 grandkids but it’s always me getting pressurised. One of the other 2 wanted to leave the church altogether, but he was just sweet talked into coming back. When I took one day off my grandma threatened having those with authority have a serious word with me. One of my friends has also recently got baptised, I’m so happy for her but my grandma was complaining that I’m not making any progress and that all of my friends will be baptised and that I will have no status to my name still. She was also saying what a great job an 8 year old was doing at church and knew all of the bible scriptures. She told me that I probably couldn’t do that when, first of all, it’s not a competition and second, I actually stood up to a teacher in school about my faith. But this is really depressing me with all this pressure on me there’s literally 3 grandkids and it’s always me getting in trouble for not being good enough, not commenting enough, not performing enough.
Sorry that I ranted, there’s just so much I need to get off my chest. I literally wake up some days with no purpose or hope. I tell my parents about how I feel at church and all I get is the shrug of their shoulders. I’m just curious if it’s valid for all of this to be affecting my mental health and if my parents or church is taking a bigger toll on it. Any advice is always appreciated :)

I thought she could change, but that doesn't seem to be the case. She's acting sneaky again.
And this time I don't care to play detective. I could have opened her chat app she left open on her computer last night, yet I didn't. I don't care to look for proof, because I don't need it.
You know the saying: Where there's smoke, there's fire. There's smoke and there may or may not be fire, but the fact remains - there's smoke when there shouldn't be smoke.
I remained with her despite her not leaving that job. Despite her seeing that co-worker every day, I remained. I gave it a shot knowing that the job market is tough, and didn't require her to leave it even after everything that she did with that guy.
So what's my plan now? It's to emotionally detach. I don't do break ups well. They affect me a little too much. So this time I'll prepare for the pain; I'll ease into it before stripping the band-aid off. She can do as she likes and I won't investigate. I won't even ask. Her deception will only cement my emotional detachment - it will only cement the idea that my decision is the correct one.
I love her, but it's clearly not mutual. She could have left that job for another one. At the minimum, she could have followed my few requirements as she continued working there, while not acting dodgy and sneaky.
I moved countries to be with her. I left my family behind. And gave up on my business prospects. I don't regret it; it was worth a shot - love is always worth a shot. But it doesn't appear to be mutual. Leaving a job to find another one in your country, in your town, should be easy. Yet she has barely tried.
There's no point in further communicating with her. She denies all of this, and claims she loves me. But actions speak so much louder than words. She seems to want two men groveling over her at once, but I'm not into threesomes. She can have this other guy she likely idealized in her head, and experience the reality of things without me in the picture. I welcome it.
How does one detach emotionally while living together and sleeping in the same bed? I'm not completely sure. But I know journaling will help, and that's where I'll start. Her birthday is coming up and I'll celebrate it with her, give her gifts, etc. So that will be difficult. I still love her, but I can love her in another way - maybe in a paternal way, not a lovers way.

I've been thinking a lot about this lately. I'm a single dad and my daughter just graduated from college. I invited my twin brother to the ceremony. He has narc traits (golden child, I was the outcast). He's not an outright narc but enough that I don't let my guard down around him and limit my time spent with him for mental health reasons. My daughter is the only Grandkid in that generation that wanted a degree. I raised her alone. Her mom just wasn't around. She came around later but couldn't help out financially. When she did I was just glad she was stable and present. My little girl worked her butt off and so did I to get this degree for her. We had other obstacles earlier along the way like a cancer Diagnosis that we battled together alone before mom came around as well. Needless to say, she and I are close. Covid robbed her of walking the stage for her diploma, so this commencement ceremony had extra special meaning. I was probably embarrassing trying not to cry as everything over the past 6 years just flooded over me into 15 minutes. That and an incredible speech from a classmate and watching her walk on stage and look for us. I just couldn't hold back the tears any longer. Afterwards we did the pictures and went on our way. One of the annoying things about being a twin is that we share a lot of the same friends from high school, family etc. After getting home, unloading everything etc and starting to look at my phone, I notice my brother has already posted on fb about her graduation. I mentioned that I thought it was messed up and got a lecture about how weird that was so I hung up. I honestly don't care. I've worked hard for this. I wanted to post about it. I felt like it was my news to share not his. Or at least he could have waited until we posted . It's our news . Right? I feel like he is just always an attention piggy. Am I off here?

I am a moroccan woman. I lived almost all my life in Morocco but I moved with my family to the US 2 years ago. My family is very religious and old school and I wear my hijab(head scarf and dresses hiding all my body) around them. My family live in Pennsylvania and I live now in Tampa Florida but I visit a lot. A month ago , my friend and her husband invited me to ho out with them so we went out and I was wearing a mini dress and shirt without sleeves and a bit open in the chest area. We were sitting at yhe restaurant talking smiling and we seemed very cosy until I saw a person starring at me with a very angry look and he was my sister's husband, it was one of the scariest moment of my life , I run and I cried for days knowing my life it is over if he tells my family. I waited for days for my sister's husband to tell my family and ruin my life but he didn't. 2 weeks lated he called me and he asked what I was doing with a guy and woman wearing almost nothing ,I told him thry are my friends and we were just hanging out together. He didn't say anything and he started calling me more and telling me we should be good friends, 2 days ago , he asked me to send him nude pics of me ,of couse I said no but he said if I don't do whatever he wants from now, he will tell my family and he told me he took pics of me with that couple that day. I know for sure if he tells my family, they will hate me and for sûre disown me , I really don't know what to do?!!