Job well done congratulation letters

In hindsight, I should have known something was wrong with The Caeles Academy of Acting.
Maybe the fact that it doesn't exist to the outside world.
This place prided itself on famous alumni it didn't actually name, and a once in a lifetime opportunity to work with the best in the business.
It's what I wanted.
More than anything.
After enduring four years of high school with barely a semblance of a drama club (we met every month, and our teacher was an alcoholic), and countless failed auditions, I was ready to take my acting career seriously. I had one year.
According to my parents, I had one year to make a living from my passion.
If it didn't work out, I would be on the first plane back to Connecticut.
It's not like they didn't trust me. I think they were just scared I wouldn't be able to financially support myself. So, I got a job right out of high school and slipped a year. Drama schools are expensive, and college’s are cut-throat on who they take on. I found Caeles Academy by accident–or, I guess it found me?
After researching cheap drama classes, auditions, academy’s, literally anything to progress my career, an ad popped up.
Not exactly flashy.
Just a date, a time, and a promise that they only take the best. I ignored it, but throughout the week, I started getting more ads. Just the words, “IMPRESS US - - JOIN CAELES ACADEMY NOW.”
Followed by, “BE WITH THE BEST, AND BE THE BEST. JOIN THE S CLASS NOW.”
When I googled the academy, nothing came up.
I gave up, clicking on the ad, which sent me straight to an application form.
I filled in my details as more of a joke. But I wasn't expecting to get an email back. Again, it was a time, a date, and that exact same tagline: “Impress us.”
However, Caeles Academy was different from what I imagined.
I was expecting a university building, or at least some modern structure. Judging from their marketing and ads, I figured they could at least afford decent premises. Though I was mistaken. When I stepped out of the Uber, I found myself staring at what looked like an abandoned office tower, a red-brick monolith in the middle of nowhere.
Which was crazy, because I swore a girl wearing a bikini had strode through the doors, with nothing but her phone, and a coffee tucked under her elbow.
According to the text sent from the academy, the auditioning rooms were on the third floor.
Tipping my head back, the checkerboard of broken windows didn't exactly instil confidence. Neither did the clunky set of automatic doors that took a while to open. It was a summer's day, and the heat was already baking through my dress, sweat sticky on the back of my neck.
I wanted to make a good impression, but the heels were a little over the top.
Though I had also seen a girl casually walk in wearing a two piece bikini.
“Well?”
Freddie’s voice made me jump. I forgot I was on the phone to him. I was excited the whole car-ride, already high on five coffees, and now I was silent. If I perceived the ‘academy’ from an objective standpoint, it definitely looked like the perfect place to be brutally murdered. But my own personal opinion was it was.. okay.
“What's it like?”
I pretended not to see a rat scuttling under an old candy wrapper.
“It's… fine.”
“Just fine?”
I could hear the smirk in my friend’s tone. He couldn't wait to tell me it was a scam, and had been reminding me all week I was essentially willingly selling myself to the black market. I was stubborn, so, fine sounded better than my initial first impression. Which was to turn around, walk away, and completely block the place from my memory.
Unfortunately, at that moment, I valued my pride over my awareness.
“It's… okay.” I said, trying to find positives. I was staring at a looming grey building with shattered windows and a resident rat living near the door. I had a hard time figuring out how the girl from earlier had just casually strode inside, barefoot too. I glanced down at the ground, immediately regretting it.
Like there weren't bits of chewing gum and grime stuck to the concrete.
“Huh.” Freddie said, his tone creeping into teasing territory. “You're really selling it.”
“It just looks like a building,” I said, my gaze glued to the rat, who looked a little too comfortable. Maybe it was a pet.
I was getting progressively more infuriated the more I stared down this place. Judging from the decades old writing ingrained into the door, it used to be a dentist surgery. “What do you want me to say?” I wasn't even trying to hide the scorn from my voice. “It's a building that looks like an academy.”
“Can you send a picture?” Freddie asked, “Ooh, wait, I'll face-time you.”
“That's, uh, that’s not really necessary–”
I was cut off, suddenly, when a guy threw himself through the automatic doors, palms first. He took two stumbled steps forwards, one back, and lifted his head, half lidded eyes on the sky, before dropping to his knees and heaving up pinkish froth. I could see him trying to hold it in, slamming his hands over his mouth, only for it to splurge through his fingers, showering the ground in greyish pink froth.
Like he'd downed a bottle of Pepto Bismol.
Inching towards him, I realized it was Pepto Bismol.
The stink made my own stomach churn.
“Missy?”
I found my voice. “Uh, can I call you back later?”
Before my friend could answer, I ended the call, slipping my phone in my pocket.
The guy was still heaving, coughing up globules of pink.
“Are you okay?”
The sound of my heels click-clacking on concrete made me cringe. The guy noticed, flinching away. Closer, and I could see his scraggly blonde hair.
He was handsome.
Without the bile spewing down his chin.
Early twenties, wearing a fitted white shirt now covered in streaks of bright pink. Part of me wanted to make a half-hearted joke, but getting even closer, so close I could smell his pepto-breath, I noticed he was trembling, his hands clenched into fists.
When I attempted to awkwardly pat him on the shoulder, he twisted around, so fast, my morning coffee slithered its way back up my throat.
His eyes were wide, almost feral, studying me like a wild animal.
I noticed the whites of his pupils were red, like he'd burst a blood vessel.
Theatre kids were intense, though I had never met THIS kind of intense.
“Are you… going in there?” The guy’s voice was a child-like whimper I wasn't expecting.
It looked like he was slowly regaining clarity, staring down at his filthy shirt, his hands stained bright pink.
I nodded, uncertainly, offering him my water. “Yeah. Did you audition?”
He shoved it away, slapping himself in the face. “I… I don't know.”
“You… don’t know?”
Suddenly, it was like something had contorted in his expression, a switch being pulled. I wasn't expecting him to twist around so fast. The guy slowly cocked his head, his lips breaking into a grin. His eyes, however, stayed the same.
“Of course I've auditioned.” He said, with a laugh.
“It was the best experience of my life! His mouth formed an almost mocking frown.
“Unfortunately, I didn't make the cut. Which is a real shame. I'm sure Caeles would have benefited from my talents.”
What was weird, is that his mouth was moving, but he wasn't even looking at me, frenzied eyes caught in an oblivion I couldn't see.
When he did look at me, his expression crumpled all over again.
Pepto jumped to his feet, brushing himself down.
I couldn't take his over the top smile seriously, when his eyes were screaming, hollowed out caverns silently begging me to listen.
This guy was fucking crazy.
“Wait.” Pepto whispered, when I turned to walk away.
He pulled out his phone, tapping the screen before shoving it in my face.
“I HAD SO MUCH FUN AT THE CAELES ACADEMY AUDITIONS :)
When I could only stare at him in confusion, Pepto’s gaze flicked to his phone, swiping bile from his lips.
His eyes went cartoon wide, like he couldn't believe what he himself was typing.
“That… that's not what I was trying to say!” He tried retyping it, but the guy was just writing strings of emoji hearts.
I didn't know what to say. I had dealt with rejection before, but I had never gone this far. Pepto was having a full on mental breakdown, his body shuddering, teeth chattering, blinking eyes and lips parting as if to speak, but choking on his words. When he started clawing out his hair, I took the opportunity to make a quick getaway.
Before I could make it to the doors, though, Pepto jumped in front of me, waving his phone directly in my face.
“Just…” he pointed at the screen. “It won't let me…” Growing frustrated with himself, he let out a wet sounding sob, clawing his fingers through his hair. “Fuck, it won't let me…it won't let me type! It's not letting me type!”
By now, he had tufts of hair stuck between his fingernails. I don't know why his first reaction was to immediately try ripping his hair out.
A quick glance at my own phone reminded me of my own audition that was in five minutes.
Meanwhile, I was dealing with what I was pretty sure was delusion, denial, or a mixture of both.
I was considering pushing past him, when Pepto’s phone screen hit me in the face. Again.
This time, though, there was coherent writing.
“FIND LUKE.”
“Luke?” I said. “Who's that?”
“Luke!” The guy was bouncing on the heels of his feet. “He's my…” Pepto drifted off, his eyes going vacant, as if I could physically see his brain being plucked from his skull. Pepto dropped his phone, and I grabbed it before it could hit the ground. His hands went to his curls, clawing, scratching, until he was drawing blood across his forehead.
“I… I don't know! I can't… I can't remember. Luke. He was my… he was my… I don't know, I can't… I can't–”
I stumbled back when he let out a shriek, scratching at his face.
“Fuck!” He whimpered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Pepto grabbed my shoulders, shaking me, his fingers digging into my skin.
“I don't know who he is.” He gritted out, pink froth pooling from his lips.
Pepto broke out into a sob. “I don't… I don't know who he is, but you can find him, right? You can… you can find…”
Again, he trailed off mid sentence, his hands going limp around my shoulders.
I managed to side step him, swallowing a cry.
“Yeah, I'll, um, I'll find him for you.”
Pepto backed away, suddenly, stumbling over himself.
His gaze found mine, vacant, like a baby deer.
“Find who?”
I didn't wait around to answer him, pushing through the doors and stepping inside.
The interior was unsurprisingly even worse than the exterior.
The elevator was broken, so I had to run up three flights of stairs.
I expected at least an attempt at an academy, even in the dregs of an old dentist surgery.
What I got, though, was a never ending staircase, obnoxious photos of teeth greeting me on every level.
The third floor was… less clinical.
I strode directly into a waiting room filled with college aged students, either sitting on plastic chairs, or standing around, rehearsing.
The room itself was cosy enough, a navy carpet and a TV playing a random Twitch stream.
Situated in the middle, was a desk with a bored looking woman behind it.
Her smile was fake. I could understand her pain. She was stuck in a room with theatre kids all day.
“Sign here.” She prodded a sheet of paper.
I was convinced her voice was AI.
While I was scribbling my details, I took a moment to notice the stark difference from the kids entering the room, to the ones leaving. The kids entering wore wide, confident smiles and were social butterflies, chatting amongst themselves.
The kids leaving reminded me of pod people.
They left the room silent, in an orderly line with dazed smiles on their faces, like they weren't sure where they were.
I watched one guy walk directly into the wall instead of taking a left toward the exit, and a girl straight up just toppled down the stairs.
The kids waiting with me named them rejects.
I wasn't convinced until I glimpsed an empty bottle of Pepto Bismol sitting on the floor by the window.
Thinking back to Pepto, that made a lot of sense.
I was still dazedly staring at the bottle, when my name was called.
Jumping to my feet, I did my best to calm myself down, straightening my ponytail. Pepto had really screwed with my head. I could barely even remember the lines I had been rehearsing for a week straight.
I was muttering my lines to myself, when I stepped through the door.
The door that apparently turned you into a pod-person on the way out.
For a moment, I thought I was blinded by stage lights.
It was so bright.
The glow bathing me was clinical, stabbing into my eyes.
When I blinked, I found myself standing in front of three shadows sitting in front of me.
Their chairs were made of leather, far different from the plastic ones in the waiting room.
So, they did have filthy cash.
I was looking at one man, and two women.
They were… average?
I expected them to be more glitzier, but they were just regular people.
The man was in his late twenties, maybe early thirties, a stiff looking brunette wearing a suit and tie, one leg crossed over the other. His eyes were narrowed slightly, lips curved into the start of a smile. Like I amused him.
The women were polar opposites.
One of them was my Mom’s age, grey hair and floral clothing. She took a sip of water, her gaze burning into me.
Google told me not to be intimidated by their stares, but it was impossible.
These people were carving holes into my skull.
Sitting next to her, a younger girl who seemed to own the color red.
Her hair simmered, blood red, while she herself was sculpted in a dress, perfect cherry lips spread in a wide smile.
With a little too many teeth.
They studied my face like I was already theirs, drinking in every inch of me.
Freddie said I had to find a weakness in their expression and use it to my advantage.
If I could find the prick of a genuine smile, I could become their favorite.
“Hi!” I said. My caffeine intake was starting to take effect.
I didn't realize I was bouncing up and down until I caught myself.
Red’s smile stretched wider.
Maybe they liked my eagerness.
“My name is Misa.” I introduced myself, staying casual, keeping my arms by my sides. “I'm twenty one years old–”
I choked on my next words when Red spoke up. “Impress us, Misa,” Her voice was a smooth, almost seductive rasp, and I felt myself fall into it, enveloped in sugar that was too sweet, and yet I couldn't stop myself. She folded her arms across her chest, her gaze challenging me to do something different. To make her want me.
“Show us something we have never seen before.” She stood up, cat-like eyes narrowing, “Show us how desperate you are to join this prestigious class.”
I nodded, and began.
I had planned a whole monologue, practised it over and over again, forcing Freddie to judge me with a none biassed opinion.
I was three lines in, when Red started laughing.
“Stop.”
I did, my cheeks heating up, and she started clapping.
“Sweetie, oh, stop, you're adorable!” She said, her lips curving into a cruel smirk.
She leaned forward, like I was something that entertained her, jostling her heeled foot. “We don't take amateurs. I think you need to go back to school.”
This woman was definitely a psychopath.
Empty eyes sparkling with a gleam that definitely enjoyed humiliating candidates, and a twisted smile that was a little too wide. Red made me want to crawl into the ground. She made me want to turn around, leave the room, and quit my dream. I was aware of my own fury, my embarrassment turning my cheeks crimson. I matched her.
Maybe that's what she wanted all along. To wear the color of her victims.
Taking a shaky step back, I started to nod, started to agree, my mouth choking with the words, “You're right. I'm sorry for wasting your time.” I had never received proper constructive criticism from a professional standpoint. Which meant I really did suck. But I didn't move. I didn't want to move, and Red continued laughing, her companions sitting in silence.
The man rolled his eyes with a loud, exaggerated sigh.
Like I was boring.
The older woman pulled out her phone.
“Misa, you are…cute.” Red said. “But you're not quite what we are looking for.”
I wasn't sure I could admit it right there, but she made me feel things.
Like I was ignited.
Like I was going to prove this crazy bitch wrong.
I found my voice, strong and confident, despite my hammering heart.
“Give me another chance.”
Red’s lips curled. “So cute, Misa. Oh, sugar bear, It would be better if you left the room. Unless you want to embarrass yourself further! In that case, be my guest!”
She turned her attention to her nails, nudging the guy.
“Dinner?” She hummed. “I'm thinking of Italian. You are quite the wine connoisseur, Nicholas. Why don't you introduce me to your favorite?”
“Hey.” I blurted.
They ignored me, getting a little too close.
I don't know why I continued, reading my lines, screaming them, so I would be heard. I read them perfectly, and tweaking the genre from drama to romance, and then to horror. I became three different characters, a high school girl struggling with cancer, a final girl, and a woman going through a divorce.
I was fucking perfect.
But they weren't listening to me, caught up in their own conversation.
I tried again.
And again.
And again.
By now, I was on my knees, my fingers ripping into my hair. I was seeing red.
“We want originality, Misa,” Red said, sucking her teeth.
Her voice crawling into my skull was enough.
She still wanted me.
The thought polluted the back of my mind, taking a strangling hold. She still wanted me. When I lifted my head, Red wasn't looking at me, her gaze on the table grains. “Show us something new.”
I got to my feet, panting, my breath in my throat.
I became a screaming, strangled mess, a woman who lost her baby.
Red’s interest was piqued. Only slightly. Through my fraying vision, she slowly turned in her chair. “Again.” She clapped her hands, “Come on, Misa! We want new! We want never been fucking done before! Are you deaf?”
I couldn't stop the sobs escaping my mouth.
They lost interest again, right in the middle of my reading.
“Why can't you look at me?” I found myself spluttering.
When the man pulled out a bottle of water, I pulled off my heel and lobbed it at his face.
“Look at me!”
He did. Slowly. His gaze found me, for perhaps the first time.
Not as an amateur, but as a potential candidate.
Around the twentieth attempt, I started to laugh. Never been done before? I could feel my fingernails already in my scalp, clawing chunks of my hair out.
Reality contorted, and I felt myself drop to my knees. I was still laughing, spluttering, sobbing. I could still hear her in my head. Never Been Done Before. I started slowly, dragging my fingernails down my face until I felt the harsh sting.
“Again.” Red said, and her voice led me to stare down at my hands, at pinkish flesh glued to my bones, fleshy mounds.
So easy to tear. I didn't even feel it.
Only the sudden, unbridled euphoria of biting into my own skin, locking in my jaw, and ripping into myself.
When I tore it from the bone, warmth filled my mouth, and I was choking, guzzling down my own flesh, mulling it in my mouth and swallowing.
I can't remember how I got so deep, and why I didn't stop.
Why I didn't fucking scream.
But it didn't matter.
Red was standing up. She was clapping, her lips spread into a grin.
Her applause filled me with stars.
So, I ripped my hair from my scalp, a hysterical giggle escaping my lips.
She loved me.
I could see her jumping up and down, clapping.
Louder, and louder.
Her applause controlled me, twisting and contorting me into hers.
I didn't even think. I wanted to impress her, and doing this was doing just that.
My fingers were delving into my right eye socket, clawing my eye out. It didn't even hurt. Not with her thundering applause that was deafening, beautiful, an orchestra in my ears.
When I was semi conscious, my eye was crushed in my hand, but my vision was still mine, almost too clear. I could see streaks of red blurred between my lashes. My hair was caught between my fingers. But I wanted to do more.
When I stumbled to my feet, Red’s smile was so beautiful.
The man, however, looked horrified.
“Someone bring in the one of the successes,” Red’s voice was a shrill giggle, “Bring him in!” she clapped her hands together, and I spat out a fleshy thing. “I want to see them together! I want to see the future in front of us!”
Footsteps coming towards me in slow, shuddery thumps. I looked up, and a shadow was dancing around me.
When I slowly rose to my feet, I half realized I’d bitten my toe off. The shadow had a face, a boy who was younger than me. I think he used to have hair, but half of it was gone, half of it was still stuck between his fists. When I found his eyes, I found twin caverns instead.
Eyes that were still physically there, and yet there was no life.
No spark.
I was staring at a dead body, a flesh puppet who had lost his strings.
When he grabbed my hands, pulling me into a waltz, I caught a smear of scarlet trickling down the back of his neck. When I followed it upwards, his head was covered, slick, dripping with red.
Like me, he matched her too.
And he was beautiful, she told me, her push, her thunderous applause, guiding me into a waltz.
His feet moved, perfecting every step, and my foggy mind couldn't understand why. He matched my every move, the two of us floating across the floor.
My feet knew the steps before my mind.
How could he dance? I thought, dizzily.
How could he dance, when smeared scarlet followed his twisting, and turning and pirouetting feet?
Because underneath that swimming clinical light, the back of the boy’s head had been carved away, a perfectly sculpted cavern where his brain should have been. I could see the severed stem, where it had cleanly plucked out.
His fingers cradled in mine were wet. Swimming in blood.
His own blood.
Spinning round and around, I imagined myself as a princess.
I saw an 18th century ballroom lit up around us. Glittering smiles and glasses of champagne, long, flowing ball gowns.
I blinked, and my head was tipped back, gliding in blood once again.
When he pulled me to his chest, I stumbled, and a name came to light.
Luke.
I had found him.
Our finishing spin left me hard to breathe.
My body was broken, ripped into, and yet somehow not.
By the time we were finished, the two of us bowing, my mind was full of fog.
Cotton candy.
“Congratulations!” Red’s smile was inhuman, stretching right off of her face.
“You're in the S class!”
I was led through a door that wasn't the one I entered from. Inside the room were a dozen or so students, kneeling on the floor. They were missing parts of themselves, like unfinished puzzle pieces.
I dropped onto my knees next to a girl without a head. I could only see her torso, but I knew she was smiling.
Looming over us, was the goddess Athena drenched in blood that was still wet.
Dripping, pooling from every crevice of her dress.
Looking closer, this statue was moving.
Something sickly crept into my mouth.
Her right eye was human, a twitching eyeball sandwiched inside the stone.
It didn't match her. It was wrong, horrifying, like a painting, a real human eye struggling to focus on us.
And then, my own gaze found the statues head, where a real human brain had been forced inside perfect white, pink, greyish mush dripping down the sculpted, slender neck.
I could see where it had been pushed, pulverised through the stone.
The statue’s singular eye found me.
Its dancing pupil jumped up and down.
Before it blinked.
Next to me, Luke was on his knees, as if in prayer.
I can't remember leaving the room.
I just remember running.
Back down the stairs, stumbling, staggering over myself.
I was screaming by the time I reached the doors.
They opened, as usual.
But I couldn't get through. I tried, but I was slamming into something I couldn't see.
Pepto was still waiting outside. The sky was dark.
When he saw me, he stumbled over, slamming his hands into the glass.
I couldn't even understand myself. I was just fucking screaming.
Pepto held up his phone.
“DID YOU FIND HIM?”
I shook my head.
“No.” I lied.
I can't tell him the truth. I don't even know what it is.
“I can't get out!”
Pepto nodded slowly, typing something and showing me his phone.
I'm getting you both out of there. I think I know how I can get inside.
It's been 3 days, and Pepto is yet to return.
I’ve tried multiple times to cry out for the H word. But it won't let me type it.
Please H me. I need to get out of this place.
Fuck. Get me OUT OF HERE.
Classes start tomorrow.

The most bizarre thing happened to me yesterday.
This is a throwaway account because this story has to do with a co-worker. Several co-workers and I have Reddit account and often post on subs related to the industry we’re in. I’m worried what I say here could be too identifying.
Yesterday, a female co-worker asked me to be her sperm donor.
I’m friendly with this woman. I like her. I think she’s genuinely a sweet person who takes her job seriously and is good at what she does. I don’t think she always gets a fair shake at work or is taken seriously some of the time due to her appearance. There’s nothing crazy about her appearance or anything, she’s just objectively attractive. I’ve heard guys make inappropriate sexual jokes about her. There have been rumors about her hooking up with multiple male colleagues. There was even a rumor that she and I were having an affair at one point, which had no merit. I’ve never slept with this woman or done anything sexual with her. I find her attractive and admittedly sometimes I do have to force myself to maintain eye contact with her when she’s talking to me. She wears revealing blouses sometimes. I’m a boob guy, so I’m just being honest here. But I’d never pursue anything like that with her. I’ve only ever acted respectful towards her.
I’ve been divorced for about 2 years. I’ve dated some since then, but nothing serious that I want to commit to. I have kids with my ex-wife.
So she told me she needed to meet to discuss something important with me. I’m a director and she’s a manager, separate departments - I’m not her supervisor. My department handles some things for her department and I know she’s been having trouble with somebody on my team. I assumed that’s what she wanted to talk about.
Instead, she took me out to lunch to give me this big speech about why she wants to be a single mom and why she wants me to be her sperm donor! I was literally speechless. It was obvious she’s been thinking about it for a while. She’s even consulted a lawyer about the logistics of ensuring that a sperm donor of her choice could be guaranteed to not be held legally responsible for the child. She tried to assure me that she wouldn’t expect anything from me, she doesn’t want any involvement from me, and we wouldn’t have to tell anyone. We could even have actual sex if I wanted to do it that way, or we could be more formal about it, depending on my comfort level.
I mean, it’s bizarre and was very uncomfortable, but at the same time strangely flattering. I didn’t say no right away. I haven’t actually told her no at all. I mean, inside I was yelling no way, but why didn’t I actually tell her that? Maybe I just wanted me ego stroked a bit more, idk.
Of course I asked her why me. She said I’m nice, she likes me, I don’t treat her like a lot of the guys we work with. She thinks I’m “normal,” healthy as far as she’s aware, and she likes my physical features. But she’d want a full health history on me and my family before moving forward.
I asked her why she didn’t go to a sperm bank. She said that’s what she initially planned to do when she started seriously thinking about becoming a single mother, but once she started delving into it she discovered that there are many ethical issues with sperm banks. Shes been talking online with several women who have used known donors and has decided that’s the way she needs to go. She thinks I’m a good fit because while we’re friendly, we’re not friends, we don’t hang out with each other, we don’t know each other outside of work. She feels she knows me well enough to determine she likes me and certain traits/characteristics, without having to worry about it being weird because I’m not a close friend or somebody that would be around her family or friend group at all. Plus, I’m divorced now so there no spouse or partner to have to deal with.
She said she could always leave the company before anyone would possibly realize her kid looks like me if I’m worried about that. She feels she’d probably have to leave to avoid things being weird between us. She’s been studying for some sort of certification in hopes of finding a more specialized job anyway, she claims. We live in different cities, so our lives are totally separate outside of work.
I felt like it was a prank or hidden camera thing. Truly one of the most bizarre and unexpected things to happen to me. But when I googled “coworker asked me to be a sperm donor” I was surprised to find out this is far from an isolated incident. What’s even more bizarre is after reading some of these other stories, I’m not 100% about saying no. I mean, I’m about 90% sure I’ll say no. I felt bad telling her no on the spot and intended to let her believe that I was considering it over the weekend since I got the impression she had spent so much time thinking about it and rehearsing what she was going to say. But now I actually am finding a tiny part of myself considering it and I almost can’t believe myself.
Anyone ever been randomly asked to be a sperm donor before??? If you actually said yes, why? Did it work out in the end or become a legal mess? And no, I’m not seeming actual legal advice from Reddit.

We moved to Chicago in 2021. We were over the moon at first. We had finally achieved our long term goal and it seemed like we genuinely had a future together. Come to find out over the last 2 years that she values going out more than I do, is not a very clean person, and wants to include her friends in everything.
Add to this, the job I used to move here was bought by a big corporation and became incredibly toxic. I quit on a handshake deal with my old manager to work at the shop he was opening up. I had savings for the temporary unemployment. But, due to backstabbing by two other prospective employees I was not given the job. This resulted in 7 months of depression, debt, and unemployment.
I finally received a job offer for a work from home position in my preferred industry…only for it to be rescinded. The CEO who hired me was furious the offer was rescinded by the owner so he offered me a job at his personal business (retail) in the meantime while he can get me in another round of hiring. The second round came and I was accepted again…but the second offer was rescinded due to them wanting another interview that they had never done with any other candidate before. I did the second interview and finally got the job 7 months after it was first rescinded.
Needless to say, this caused a lot of stress for myself and my partner. I haven’t been very kind and have lashed out because of it, however it was over things I had communicated as upsetting to me multiple times before. I hit a breaking point 2 weeks before starting the new position. I wanted this job for our future to be better and right before it actually happens we break up.
I want to not take this job offer but if I don’t that means staying in retail. The job will look good on my resume, pays well, and has great benefits. It’s a big break for me. I’m devastated that I can’t enjoy it with her, though.
She’s not 100% in the right either.
I wanted to take a trip to Detroit for a music festival but she invited her friends and sister without asking me. I wanted alone time to fix our relationship. Now I’m not going to the festival but she and her friends still are. I didn’t say anything because she literally cries when I don’t want to hang out with her friends.
She goes out often and leaves me to take care of our dog. I’ve said this bothers me but it continued.
I clean more than her. I’ve given up trying to get her to be more proactive about cleaning.
I can’t stand her when she drinks.
But…I still love her. I’ve grown so much with her and am a better person because she was in my life.
I’m devastated.

Hi everyone.
I'm 31F and almost 31w pregnant with first baby. I work in a reception of a busy (non NHS) clinic. My only "peer" is my supervisor who according to the job description does pretty much the same as me, runs a clinic (I'm trying not to give too much away about my job but it involves working with lots of trainees who are not always punctual at collecting pts and the pts are a demanding lot).
Anyway, she has brown nosed her way into being involved in way more "exciting" stuff with higher up medics and she barely does any of her actual job now. She sits there typing emails all day whilst I run around crazily trying to organise everything. This has always pissed me off bc I get paid not a lot and I feel I do her job now too! We've done risk assessments etc but it somehow ends the same way in real life, I'm left to do it all and she gets the credit. Also I must add, I'm stuck in that awful situation that she's also my friend when she's not being so bad.
Now I'm getting further along in my pregnancy I'm feeling weaker and can't move as quickly as I used to. I feel a lot of pelvic pain and I'm so easily breathless! But guess what - in the upcoming week I'm being left to run the most hectic clinic on my own. I'm genuinely losing sleep, lol hence why I'm awake writing this at 01:00. I'm not due to start mat leave til 37 weeks bc everyone told me it was a waste. I feel so anxious and upset, it's affecting my personal life as well. My husband is so angry about the situation and urges me to go on sick leave for stress but I'm such a nervous wreck about leaving them high and dry so early, bc I am returning to this job after my mat leave. Lots of catty people there who only call out your mistakes.
If you've read this I genuinely applaud you. I feel so shit rn I can't explain.
Tldr overcompensating pregnant woman doing work of 2 people feels guilty taking sick leave to cope with anxiety of being said overcompensating pregnant worker.

How do I(29F) handle my parents(64M and 63F)?
I (29F) have been dating a guy (32M) for several months and decided it was time to tell my parents about the relationship. They expressed their immediate disapproval because he does not currently have a college degree. For context: both my parents and I have at least masters degrees and my mom has a Phd. They believe he will not be able to find good jobs in the future and will limit me. They see it as "laziness" that he did not go to college after he got out of the air force (he enlisted right after high school) since the government would've paid for it. He is currently at a great job and has a lot of experience in his industry. He makes a little less than me but we are both making 6 figures and are doing well in our respective fields.
They both value education and so do I so they believe I am "betraying my values" by dating someone who isn't college educated. But he is very educated within his field with certifications and very technically qualified.
During the second time my parents spoke to me about my relationship, my mom expressed that she had given up so much in order for me to be successful and she didn't understand why I would throw away my entire life. This was hurtful as I always felt guilty that she had given up so much to raise me, such as a career and huge involvement in clubs and organizations. But until now, she never said she resented it. At one point my mom drove (5 hours) unexpectedly to "meet me for coffee" to talk me out of dating him.
My boyfriend is over half done with getting a bachelors of science, but because it's an all online small school, my parents don't think it's worth much and also don't think he will finish the degree.
After two months of this I finally get a text from them saying they don't support this is any way but it is clear they aren't getting through. They hope I eventually make the right decision and we don't need to discuss it any further.
I don't know how to proceed as they said they will not meet him unless I marry him and they will never "accept that I have settled this way". I don't think it's fair to my boyfriend to keep dating him if my parents will be this upset and I am worried I may be "blinded by love" and maybe this relationship is a bad idea. My boyfriend knows my parents are not happy but he says they will come around.
Would it be wrong if I distanced myself from my parents a bit over this? We usually talk once a week and we see each other about once a month but I recently haven't wanted to talk or see them at all. Should I continue to see my boyfriend given that he may have to interact with my parents? I don't know if that is fair to him.
To answer other questions before they begin: this is the second "serious" relationship I've been in where I have said I wanted them to meet anyone and they said they were "fine" with the last boyfriend but we seldom talked about him. That old boyfriend had a law degree and was clerking. My current boyfriend and I were friends for about 18M before we started dating so we knew each other well and that's why the relationship has become serious more quickly.

In advance: I'm sorry if this makes no sense context wise and it gets long, but I'm pretty emotional writing this. I feel like I'm standing infront of the shambles of my life right now, at a point where I'm supposed to be happier than ever.
And truth be told, I am outwardly "ok" most of the time, which I'm not faking per se. But I am terrified of what's going on in my head.
I'm a young woman roughly in my early twenties, pregnant, together with my childhood boyfriend and love of my life, financially secure, working my dream job etc.. But on the other hand I'm also a survivor of childhood religious abuse and a veteran. I've been diagnosed with Autism in early childhood and with PTSD after those ordeals.
I asked to be pulled from my last deployment in a war zone (and later service at large) after I made an unsuccessful attempt on my life. When I got home my boyfriend, with whom I've been with since we were 12-13, was right there by my side the entire time. He's the reason I'm still here. He was the one who physically attacked my parents when they threw me to the ground and kicked me upon finding out that we were having sex at age 18. He, as an adult, took a slap across the face from my lunatic of a mother, because he, someone who isn't religious, took their precious daughter. That's the same mother who'd say that symptoms of my Autism were my Yetzer Hara (innate inclination to evil in Judaism) and so on. My mother was always the worst, but curiously enough, both my parents were actually rarely physical. They were just incredibly evil with words. My first bullies, basically. Despite all this, my boyfriend supports that I still hold contact to them for the sake of my little siblings, who I love dearly. But despite that love, I've found myself unable to interact with them recently. It is just so incredibly painful to see how different my parents are with them and how my little siblings, who are to young to know what was done to me, adore them without a single condition. The only truly good person in my family is my paternal grandfather. He basically adopted me and my partner as his own, taught us what Judaism is really supposed to be like and gifted my partner, who is incredibly respectful of my faith, an old Kippah of his. He's truly always been my partner in crime, united by the dislike for the rest of our family. He's also the only one who knows and will know about the baby. I am so ready for the family drama that will unfold when they find out that that me, my partner and our child will inherit everything and that I'm his sole medical and financial proxy should he ever be unable to do stuff himself anymore.
My pregnancy was unplanned, but it was a happy "surprise" (can you be surprised about the pill failing after two days of a stomach virus?). Unfortunately my second thought after the initial excitement of seeing the positive test was how this would burn every last bridge to my family. Again, my partner is nothing short of amazing and will be an awesome dad, but he's and his family are the only ones I have. I don't have my mom or any other female relatives. I love my defacto mother-in-law, who has always been more of a mother to me than my real mom, but having to talk to her about pregnancy stuff not always because I want to, but because she's the only one I got is incredibly sad. My family, except for my grandfather and possibly my siblings when they are adults, will never find out about this baby, ever. I am genuinely afraid of what lengths they would go to.
My partner, who has always been there for me, is in a very tough situation right now, so it obviously my turn to step up. He's a professional athlete, who's had two mayor injuries this season, one involving surgery on his shoulder. Issue being, he's also allergic to pretty much every single conventional painkiller out there and he's had to take painkillers continuously since October. Result being, stomach ulcers. Severe pain 24/7, nights spent awake with him vomiting blood. I, with a medical background, was a loss for what to do at times and thought I'd lose him more than once. Objectively speaking, I've seen much worse in the military, but it hits so different when it's a person you love more than anything. And he continues to play whenever even remotely possible with a stupid sense of grit and determination that I recognize from myself. He's slowly on the mend, but I've given him everything in me over the last few months. I feel empty.
Another factor in that is my work. I work for the club my boyfriend plays for. My primary jobs are in medical and coaching, but I also see it as sort of my duty that these guys turn not only as great athletes, but also as great humas. An aspect that often times gets lost in professional sports. I love my work, I love how much I can give and how I can be a positive factor in people's lives. But with everything else going to shits, I feel that what's happening at work is also affecting me more than it should. Particularly a guy that's been out with myocarditis for months now. It's always been a sad case, but as of recently I hold back tears every time I work with him. His mama found him unconcious in bed one morning, as a simple flu had turned significantly worse over night. She panicked, didn't remember where the hospital was, didn't think to call an ambulance and as such drove him to our medical centre. When I opened that car door - I've never seen a person that looked so sick ever before. He ended up having a heart attack, getting a pace maker and being in a coma for a week. Again, he's on the mend now, but seeing a 19 year old young athlete, who sees his entire career in jeopardy, struggle to get up from the breakfast table and walk the 5 steps over to the buffet is still beyond heartbreaking. He's been on my mind a lot lately, but what completely ended me were the last 2 days. Day before yesterday, in training. We hear a horrific sound, followed by a gutteral scream of shear pain and terror (have heard a few of these, never anything quite like that) and frantic shouts from other players. I grab my equipment and haul ass over to the other pitch and what I see there is easily the most horrific leg break possible. I am talking, the leg was nearly amputated. Tourniquet on, finding the next best thing to inject the player that would just knock him out, debating with my colleagues about if this is a case for a helicopter (it was), figuring out with the air ambulance crew how to stabilize the leg (anatomical physics project) etc.. The player who accidentally did this to him in a bad challenge was and still is inconsolable. There were multiple people who threw up at the sight. Today in training, another sound every pitch side worker dreads. A head clash, a proper one. One of them fine, just slightly dazed, the other one fully unconscious. I turn him on his side and see that there's blood running out of his mouth and one of his ears. Not ideal. When I got him awake he started vomiting, stated hearing/vision loss on one eadye, his face was drooping etc.. Perfect case of a basilar skull fracture. Another case for the air ambulance. While we were waiting on them, his mama came over and he didn't recognize her. I don't know what it was, but him not recognising his mother, his mother, fearing for her son's life, sobbing when he asked who she was...
Even though they're both doing well considering the circumstances, I've never had two incidents like this in two days. I'm rattled. And I hate myself for saying that, because it feels weak coming from someone who has seen war zones. I feel like I'm giving everything I have, I'm everyones shoulder to cry on and I'm just empty. I don't have anything left to give. Silly coming someone from someone who voluntarily signed up for all of this and still somehow loves it in a twisted way. Does this make me a masochist? I don't know. Fact is, I feel myself going down a very dark path (again) and I don't know what to do (again).

Hey all! So I wanted to give a part two since I'm not high now lol, and also I wanted to clear up some things and add in some other details I left out that I just remembered. If you haven't seen the first part of this post then I suggest going to that, otherwise you'll be very confused. Also, I forgot to add this in my first post but DON'T READ if triggered by certain topics like r*ape, SA, murder, abuse, etc. Another thing is, this post is going to be a lot darker and aside from talking about what happened, I'm also looking for advice on my mental state and how to cope. So please read with caution because I'm going to be talking about what happened with B, but also about my past before him and how what happened is affecting my past trauma.
So, I'm not going to retell the whole story but I am going to be bringing up a lot of parts from it and things I didn't realize until after the incident happened. And some of the things I didn't think of until my friend brought it up. So in my first post, I was talking about how B (26M) was REALLY into Jeffrey Dahmer. Well, in the show we watched with Evan Peters, I noticed a lot of things Jeffrey did as well as already knowing a lot about him before watching it. I noticed that B was doing a lot of things similar to him. Now, I forgot to add in this part last time, but B was really 'straight phobic.' Now I'm a bi transman but I don't hate cis / straight people. In fact, a lot of my friends are cis and in straight relationships. For some reason though, he did, to a weird extent. And even though he was being respectful in the beginning, I'm starting to get a feeling he wasn't actually gay or cared about trans people. Because it seems as though ALL of his former partners were transmen. Which isn't that weird I guess, and he did tell me he tried dating a cis man before but it didn't work. After I met him in person he was telling me that he really liked his trans partners to still have sex vaginally and he liked tits. So, I was kind of confused at that. I think what was really going on was that he isn't gay but wanted to be so he could be like Jeffrey Dahmer. I know it's a bit of a stretch, but you'll see why later. So another thing is, Jeffrey would always ask his potential victims to go back to his place for drinks and to take photos, particularly sexual ones. Jeffrey would then lace the drinks and go on to do weird things to his victims while taking their pictures. And while I was trapped at his place, B kept pushing alcohol on me, A LOT. So much so, that when I kept refusing he started getting angry. However, once I pretended to take a sip it was like his whole attitude changed. He also kept joking it was laced, like EVERYTIME he offered me some. Even though I didn't actually drink any, like I said in the first post, I still got a few drops on my lips and in my mouth. After that I started to get a headache and was a bit dizzy. Also, he had told me before that he liked to take pictures of his partners in sexual poses while they held his guns. Aside from the guns, that's EXACTLY WHAT JEFFREY WOULD DO. For some reason, I didn't piece any of this together until afterwards. I guess I was too shaken up to think clearly. I said this before as well, but when I first entered his house, it was pitch black and he had black out curtains on EVERY WINDOW in his house. His bedroom, living room, kitchen, I mean his whole house made it seem like it was night outside. Another thing that is eerily similar to Jeffrey, is that B told me before I met him in person he always liked dating someone younger. I, at the time, was nineteen and he was twenty five, about to turn twenty six. I honestly don't know what was wrong with me so have not seen the BIG RED FLAGS in the beginning, but he played it off so well I didn't even notice them until after everything happened. And it isn't like me to go for older guys, I usually try to go for someone two years older or younger than me, as I don't like have a huge age gap between me and my partner. Anyway though, Jeffrey always went for younger guys, as well as sometimes KIDS. So, that's another thing similar between them, as well as the fact that B told me he was into little brother play. Where he makes his partners act like a younger brother during sex, etc. He also told me he liked for his partners to SUCK ON BINKIES. BRUHHHH, no thanks bro, I'm good. See, if it was just one of these things that he liked / was into, then I guess it would be normal. Just a guy into a weird ass kink, but all these things combined just did not sit right with me as well as how he was acting. Now, I said in my other post that basically the ENTIRE TIME I was with him, he had a weird ass expression on his face that made me uncomfortable. I wish I could explain better, but it was like constipated / confused look, like Edward from Twilight when he does those weird facial expressions. His brows were always furrowed and he looked like he was uncomfortable / anxious the whole time. He was being super sketchy. His body language was just really off-putting and made me feel weird. And the thing he kept ranting about the most was how Jeffrey Dahmer was misunderstood and just needed someone to be there for him, and then maybe he wouldn't have killed people. The thing that scared me the most was how he said he felt the same way, that he wished he could just have someone not leave him and how he had trust issues after his former partners. Especially the one I mentioned in the last post, about how his ex partner before me snuck out in the middle of the night and got his family to come get him. His family lived across the country, so it had to have been pretty bad for his ex to call his parents and tell them to come get him. Because they drove across multiple different states to come pick him up in the middle of the night so he could sneak away. I have a major feeling that B left out a lot of their fight and why his ex actually left. Not to mention while I was with him, he watched every move I made and wouldn't let me get on my phone without him seeing what I was doing / texting to people. I have a feeling if he thought I was trying to leave him he would've done something bad. Just like Jeffrey. Jeffrey wouldn't always hurt his victims (Not at first anyway) it was always when they said they had to leave that he would get angry and force them to stay. So, idk man, I could've been killed or worse. Also, I know I said I could've been killed or worse, and some of you are probably thinking what's worse than being killed? Well, to me, a lot of things he could've done would have been worse. Especially if he was trying to be like Dahmer, then I could've gotten acid injected into my brain or been r*aped. Which is exactly what I think he was trying to do, with how much alcohol he was trying to push on me. He also kept 'petting' me and touching my thighs while he told me all the ways he'd kill me 'if he was a serial killer.' I genuinely think that something bad would've happened if I didn't have one HELL of an excuse to leave. Because honestly, my mom couldn't have given a better excuse for me to go that also sounded real and not like a lie. Because, like I said before, I had told him before I met him that my mother had health issues and was always in and out of the hospital, so it was perfect that she used that as an excuse. He got really cold and wasn't speaking to me when he heard my phone call and that I had to leave, but I think if I would've tried to leave without that excuse or by giving him an obvious lie, then I might not be here. I'm also super grateful to my best friends who let me come to their place and stay late instead of going home. Me and my best friend, basically my sister, have talked about this a lot since it happened and every time we do, we try to rationalize why someone would act like that, other than being an actual serial killer / r*pist. But we can never think of a reason besides the fact that he simply is what he seems like. A really unhinged person who could've hurt me badly. Also, this was my FIRST TRUE experience in online dating and I honestly think I'm never going to try that again. I've run into so many creeps trying to date online, AND in real life. Most people who aren't trans probably don't realize or know this, but there are a lot of men that want to do really weird and fucked up things to trans people because I guess they think we are some mutant or something, or 'the best of both worlds.' I've run into them a lot, and when I met B, I thought that was over. I thought I had met an actual good person who was educated on trans topics and was respectful of my boundaries and my body. Nope. Now I'm starting to think dating, at least where I live now, is almost impossible and I think I'm going to be alone for awhile. :') Not to mention, I'm now traumatized after what happened with B, and I already had trouble trusting men, and just people in general. Before meeting him I have already been SAed before, multiple times. I guess I'm simply asking for advice on how to move on from something like this. I was trying, and doing kind of ok, moving on from things that had happened before I met B, but now after what happened with him I feel like I'm back sliding and it's making me relive all my past traumas. I basically trust no one, when it comes to sexual things, besides my two best friends I've known since childhood. I tend to over sexualize everything, even things that aren't sexual at all, and get scared around ANYONE, even family members, who I know deep down don't see me like that. I was also abused as a kid and wasn't able to get out of it until I was eighteen, and I've only just turned twenty now, so it wasn't even until two years ago I was still being abused. I feel I've fallen into the dark again and my panic attacks have gotten worse again. I feel depressed and I didn't realize until recently that I'm suicidal again. I didn't realize it until recently, because when I was younger and suicidal, I knew I was. I've tried unaliving myself before so I didn't think about it because I don't feel that way now. It's different this time. Instead of my thoughts directly wanting me to pull out a gun and, ya know, this time it's more subtle and more of a subconscious action. Like closing my eyes for a few seconds while driving. Or intrusive thoughts about ramming head first into the car in the other lane. Or going hiking and thinking of what it would feel like to step off the cliff. I'm honestly just tired. I feel like every person I meet has some kind of ulterior motive, whatever it is. I'm working at a really nice job but it seems like every time I save up money and am doing good for my future, I have to use it on something unexpected that pops into my life. I'm living with my grandparents for now because they said they weren't going to charge me rent, and I'm super grateful for that, but even still I can't keep money and I kind of just don't see my future anymore. Both my parents were drug addicts, my mother to pain pills then xans after that, my father was mainly an alcoholic but also did meth, pills, and other things. It doesn't help because when I was younger, around my early teen years (13-16) I started smoking cigs when I was 12, then I started smoking weed, which I still do, but then it got worse and I've tried xans, snorting pills I didn't even know what they were, drinking, and I've even done shrooms and LSD. I've also had some really bad trips on LSD that made my severe panic disorder worse and after that I now disassociate a lot too and have trouble knowing if I'm in reality while having a panic attack. And after what happened with B, his house and the smell (Cigs and booze) just reminded me what it was like living with my parents in that crack house looking trailer. It's like my brain won't let me let go of the past and move on. It's like I'm constantly stuck there still. And aside from dating, it's also super hard to meet people as friends where I live. I love my two best friends, one of which has been with me since we were basically fetuses and her parents and mine were friends, so her parents were also abusive drug addicts. It's nice to have someone so close and how we can relate to what we went through. We joke that we were traumatized by our parents, but also by each other's parents as well lol. Even though I'm grateful for them, you never know what's going to happen in the future and I don't want to be solely dependent on them and be able to make new friends, but I just can't. I feel so alone, and my friend I grew up with has been moved out a lot longer than me and has had time to heal, and I don't wanna keep dumping my mental problems on her because it's unfair to her. I feel like I'm just bringing her back to our past with me. When I moved out, I completely cut ties with my father, I don't even like calling him that, as he was the first person to SA me and he is, in general, and evil person. I try to think that evil people don't exist, but then I think of him and I realize they do. My mom though, is a good person when she isn't on anything. Recently though, I blocked her and haven't talked to her in over a month because she OD again on xans and amphetamines. I kind of realized recently that she is almost as bad as my father, even though I never wanted to admit that to myself. Because when I was younger, I admitted to her that he had SAed me and she kept pressuring me to tell her what happened, like, IN DETAIL. I told her no because I didn't want to relive it and think about it, even now I have a lot of repressed memories. And because I wouldn't tell her EXACTLY what happened, she doesn't believe. I think she does, deep down, but she doesn't want it to be real. And after her OD last month, she tried telling me she didn't and that it was just her BLOOD PRESSURE. LIKE OH MY GOD BITCH, WHY DO YOU LIE? She must think I'm stupid or something. Before I blocked her, I cussed her out over text and said something like "Who do you think was the first person at the hospital? Not grandma, not your husband, ME. I've always been there for you first. Who do you think told me you had OD? The doctors when I first got there!" And she still denies it, even though when me and my friend got the hospital she was lying there naked (they had to cut her clothes off to save her) with a breathing tube stuck down her throat. I've tried helping her my whole life but apparently she doesn't want help. So now I've gotten tired of her BS and I blocked her and now my grandma is pressuring me to talking to her, luckily though, my grandpa went through something similar as a kid and understands how it is so he isn't guilt tripping me into talking with her. I'm just tired of having to put into traumatic situations. My mental health just keeps getting worse. Somehow, trauma always finds me and nowadays, it seems my only friends are my demons. It used to not be like this, but now even when I'm with my two closest friends, I still feel lonely. Like they are reminding me that when I leave my friends, I'm alone again. Anyway, I know this probably isn't the right subreddit for this, but I kind of just started ranting, sorry for that.
Also, to clear some things up, no I don't use drugs, not anymore. I've never really been an addict at all in my life, somehow. I just did drugs because I wanted to escape when I was younger, and thankfully I never got addicted to any of them. Not like you can get addicted to LSD or shrooms anyway. The only thing I've got addicted to was cigarettes, which rn, is the least of my concerns. And as for weed, I used to be a major stoner but it started making my panic attacks worse so I stopped for a few years, cold turkey, and only recently started smoking it again. So, I'm not worried about weed and if anything, it's been helping now. Especially since I don't smoke it nearly as much as I used to. So, for those worried about me being or getting on drugs, don't worry I'm fine. I have made a clear boundary for myself to never do anything besides smoking my cigs and weed. Cause I've seen how drugs affect my parents and others I've known and I've sworn to myself that I won't become them. It also sucks though because I see psychedelics as something that can help a lot of people with trauma, and the first shrooms trip I ever did changed my life for the better. Now though, after my bad LSD trip, I don't know if I can every do them again. Maybe one day, but not for the foreseeable furture. Again, sorry for going on a rant. I'll probably post this to another subreddit and see if anyone can help. I'm not looking for therapy as I don't have the money or health insurance. Just looking for someone who can relate that has been able to move past similar things and find happiness. If you've read this far, thank you. Like seriously, from the bottom of my heart. It means a lot to me that someone would read about another person's problems and life experience. I hope whoever is reading this is having a great day / night wherever you are, and are living your best life. And for those reading that are going through a similar situation right now and can't get out, I promise you aren't alone. I haven't really gotten better, so I can't say things get better, but I can say it DOES get easier. All I can say is, you aren't alone in it. There are others, like me, who know your pain. Keep living, it'll be worth it. Even though I'm not doing my best and my mental problems are still with me, that doesn't mean it's all been bad. I've made a lot of amazing memories after I moved out. Keep going.

Getting a job done for air lift suspension with viking coilovers and 3 link suspension on a 2018 Silverado short bed single cab truck.
Planning on installing 26x10 rims on it as well.
What is a good price range? I have to go out of state due to it being hard to find quality work by garages. I have been quoted 20k and 14k so far.

I recently got a job working in a retail pharmacy as an Rx Tech in training. When filling out my certification paperwork, they ask if you have any prior convictions, drug treatment, or mental health disorders. (Don’t even get me started on the fact that mental health is in the same category as crime) But anyways, this put the paperwork to a dead stop until I could get a “letter of compliance” from my counselor, a notarized letter explaining my situation, and a signed medical release. My counselor was upset and called this an invasion of privacy, I agree, but I need and want the job. My counselor begrudgingly agreed to write the letter, and I signed a medical release for the letter and a progress report.
After all that, I sent everything in, only for the board to call me and tell me they are returning my paperwork because they didn’t receive access to my medical records.
Has anybody else had issues with this? Is the procedure like this in every state? Does Arkansas Board of Pharmacy have a right to my medical records?
I’m disheartened to say the least. I’ll give them what they want if I have to, but I’m disgusted just thinking about it. I feel violated, as this is the second time I’ve had to release my medical records for bogus reasons related to mental health. I’m not an opioid addicted axe murderer, I’m a 19yo kid trying to stabilize after 2 traumatic years of college and a mental health crisis. I just want some peace and this has been yet another roadblock.
I’m done ranting now, any feedback is appreciated

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.

Initially started playing CS2 with an R7 5800X + RTX 3080 + 32GB RAM (3200 MHz), average 230-250~ average FPS on Dust 2, closer to 140-170~ on Ancient. (Dust 2 best performing map, Ancient worst performing map). Originally 350-400~ FPS on CSGO on most maps; I don't have those numbers anymore. First thing I noticed was that CS2 improperly utilizes the CPU, stacking all of the GPU rendering load onto 1 core, causing the CPU to only be at 5-10% utilization (1 core maxed out) with my GPU sitting pretty at 30-40% usage and my FPS barely at my refresh-rate (240 Hz). CSGO had this problem as well, but not nearly as bad. Obviously, this is a problem that thousands of people have run into.
Fast-forward; I got a job that requires me to be out of state 2-3 weeks out of every month, so I sold my desktop and bought a reasonably-priced Alienware M15 R5 laptop (Win10, 1080p, 360 Hz (excessive), R9 5900HX, RTX 3070 (80%~ performance compared to desktop version), 32GB RAM (2667 MHz). The 5900HX is not really comparable to my previous 5800X, obviously. Still, I expected it to be able to play eSports titles reasonably well. CSGO played perfectly fine, 250-300 FPS generally. Valorant currently gets the same, 250-300 FPS (Valorant actually uses all of my cores. Hah).
Out of the box with no launch options, CS2 gets 50-100 FPS depending on the map with this laptop (Inferno and Ancient are especially terrible), only using 5-10% of the CPU (1 core maxed out), 20-30% GPU usage. These FPS stats do not get better by lowering any settings (because of the intentionally-designed CPU bottleneck), but input latency somewhat improves by playing on lowest settings (with FidelityFX disabled). This is, pardon my French, fucking ridiculous. Entirely foreseeable and preventable during engine development, and completely insane to be overlooked without more context. Secondly, Source 2 is over a decade old, so really it's a miracle that anyone thought it was a good idea to release a modern sequel title on this ancient technology.
Before anyone asks, I've done everything possible after 20+ hours of research to try to increase FPS on this system. My best results have been with the "performance" power plan in Windows, paired with these launch options (if anyone says "that one doesn't work anymore" I literally don't care, I'm over it and decided to throw everything at it, and these all seem to improve my FPS through a lot of split-testing): -dx11 -coop_fullscreen -force_allow_coop_fullscreen -mainthreadpriority 2 -disable_affinity_preferences -r_max_device_threads 64 -threads 17 -set_power_qos_disable -favor_consistent_framerate +engine_low_latency_sleep_after_client_tick 1 +r_low_latency 2
My FPS has since improved to something resembling a playable experience (90-190 FPS depending on map). I'm aware that I could replace my RAM with a higher clockspeed to further improve performance with a single core, but I have other priorities than spending more time or money trying to improve this. Regardless, I wanted to share what worked for me because there was a huge lack of infomation anywhere in one place. I found these launch options from user Aveyo. Here's his original post; +Rep to that guy: https://www.reddit.com/GlobalOffensive/comments/1ah3eas/comment/kolwa1g/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button
Either way, this is as good as forcing low-spec players to flock to this game's main competitor just so that they can have a vaguely similar experience with playable FPS. No, sub-100 FPS is not playable for anyone who can tell the difference between 144hz and 240hz and wants a somewhat competitive experience. I can't yet justify spending over $2k on a laptop with a reasonable CPU/GPU combo that would meet my standard because of a single game whose devs are basically telling me they don't care enough to add reasonable multithreading and that I should get over it. Especially when this PC works completely fine for everything else, including playing their competitor's game instead (begrudgingly).

I have been covering a parental leave at a private school where I am the youngest teacher by far in the department (and one of the youngest teachers overall). My boss seemed hesitant to hire me because of my relative inexperience but my teaching demo went very well and so I'm here.
In general, this department seems to mostly hire older, experienced teachers, which I totally understand, but a week ago, I told my boss that I have an interview at Solomon Schechter in the area (since my current position is temporary), and in response to this my boss basically verbally offered me a job after telling me she had spoken with the admin and they all said I seemed to be doing a good job and they wanted me around. It was going to be for a temporary year-long position next year, but then she even said, "In December, we'd look at renewal but there's always a place for talented people." She also told me she'd come in for an observation on Monday and write up a contract by Monday afternoon. I like my current school (well, liked) and was honestly excited for this.
Fast forward to Monday. I was tempted to let go of my interview at the other school on Monday morning, but chose not to because I needed a formal contract. Interview went very well. Monday afternoon I had to teach at my current school and had that observation. This of course happened to be the day my otherwise lovely students decided not to cooperate with me because they didn't know they were starting a new topic, despite the fact that I had emailed them so the week before. I fully expected my boss to be observing me, but I did not expect the admin to be there too. And they were watching as the students sat there gaslighting me and I was holding firm and saying, nope, today isn't a work block.
Now, I think everyone who's taught for any amount of time knows that students try to gaslight their teachers all the time, but after the class, during my debrief with my boss, she basically blamed me for the students not knowing they were starting a new topic. She also blamed me for students seeming disengaged, which -- of course they were! They were mad at me for not giving them a work block. But she told me they were disengaged because I had spent too much time on historical background; for context, the other (more experienced) teacher teaching this class told me that she had spent half that class period on historical background that she felt was excessive. Because that class was an introduction to a new topic, I thought a dry introduction was fine, and while, admittedly, I could have been more prepared on the historical background itself, the class wasn't awful -- in the second half, once they got into the topic, they were very engaged, as even my boss acknowledged (but she said I needed to cut to the chase faster).
She didn't mention anything about the job, which I found suspicious, because she told me she'd get back to me by Monday afternoon. By Tuesday afternoon, the other school offered me a job, and then I emailed my boss, telling her they'd officially offered me a job but that I would prefer to stay at Gann. She congratulated me and then told me that actually they were not looking to hire me for the position they had listed, which was going to become two separate positions, one for the fall and one for the spring. She told me they wanted someone with more specific experience for the fall (totally understandable) but that I could apply to the spring position -- which is the same job I am currently in -- if I want, but that they're not "ready" to hire me right now for it.
Everything about this was so completely anger inducing. TBH it's a bullet dodged -- I don't care to work for a boss who expects perfection of this sort and blames student disengagement (for half of one class period) on me rather than on the students. I guess she sees me as a liability for some reason (probably age, if I had to guess), or maybe admin decided they hated my observation too.
I think this lack of professionalism flourishes in schools because everyone knows you can't leave the same way you can in corporate. I have less than a month of my contract left; had this been corporate, I would have been out the door already, but because I care about my students, I can't exactly do that.
Anyway, I'm done. I've taught Title I, I've taught private, and it looks like severe management problems are everywhere. Corporate may suck, but, fortunately, I still have one foot in that door and I am going to channel my energy toward it for the time being.

Hi! I didn’t want to put specifics in the title in case people who are binging haven’t seen season 12 yet, but I think that the writers did an EXCELLENT job of the storyline with Catherine/Laura/Mark/Stolen guns. The writing did a really good job of almost using a sleight of hand to gently trick the viewer from getting it right. I think the buffer episode with the doc Robbins storyline was actually very brilliant because it led me to forget Laura’s face, and so I thought she was involved during the law office portion at the beginning. Then we see her with the woman in the law office, so it led me back to thinking it was all the husband and that Laura was a victim, and finally we find out she was the villain the whole time. Really well done, it kept me on the edge of my seat, and I think it was a really respectable send off for Catherine. Curious to see what others think!

Imagine being told the house would take 10-13 months to build. And then imagine being assigned a crappy construction manager named Kevin Thornton and waiting 18+ months for the completion of your home, who seemed to only been hired because his brother Chris Thornton was already a construction manager for the company.
Being told 4 false closing dates. Having to lose a good interest rate because they don’t know how to build a house within a reasonable time. I’ve seen whole apartment complexes built in the time we’ve been waiting.
Having to reach out to said construction manager and the sale consultant Zac Davidson every single month to get an update when you were told you would get an update roughly every two weeks. Being lied to every single month. Trish is also a dishonest unprofessional woman who constantly dodges phone calls and lies about everything.
Finding a crappy job being done in the primary bathroom shower and them having to rip it out and start over again, because part of the shower wall was bowing out into a triangle shape and the small square tiles were not flat and straight with tons of extra grout around them. Having a crappy grading job where 1/3 of the back yard is unusable. And nothing can be done about it, Holiday Builders just loves cheap labor.
Going through a full roll of blue painters tape to point out all the flaws in the construction, where the manager will run out of tape, but luckily we brought some to continue using half the roll. And they still didn’t fix everything the first go around, where we had to call them back multiple times to fix the issues described at the first walkthrough, after closing. You’ll find paint on every single door handle in the house. And paint splatter all over your floors. Different caulking colors used on the countertops right next to each other. You’ll ask them to paint the water access water into the home because it looked like crap the first time and then they’ll make it worse and also paint the grass and gutter runoff as well because they simple don’t give a hoot about anything.
They even had to rip up two parts of the yard to have water and septic lines in place inspected because they forgot and now we’re stuck with even more shitty grading and yard work because of that.
They’ll schedule exterior stuff after laying sod down that end up leaving the yard dug up and not manicured and looking like trash. And then you’ll wait weeks for them to come fix it.
They give you a smart door lock that’s supposed to come with the Rekeying tool, but they won’t give it to you for unspecified reasons, even though you paid for it. You’ll ask if the front door lock is a smart/Wi-Fi compatible one. They’ll say no, but after reading the manual you’ll find out it is. They don’t even know how the products they’re installing works!
Being told a shower door for the primary bathroom isn’t even included after finding out 1 week before closing, seems like their architects failed physics, because water still gets out the shower with a door there if it’s it recessed. Finding out that something as inexpensive as cabinet handles are not included and finding out after the first walkthrough that they’re an “expensive upgrade”, when it was never mentioned during the upgrades selection. Why would I upgrade to 42” upper cabinets and soft close but not op for handles, does that make sense to you. Paying nearly 400k for a house and they can’t even do these simple thing’s correctly or offer these simple things as standard. What if someone had a disability and opening cabinets without handles is extremely difficult for them. Holiday Builders doesn’t give a single hoot about you if that’s the case.
When blinds and a refrigerator and a washer and dryer and a garage door openers are already not included. I would expect the said things above be STANDARD! And a sales consultant that only cares about his paycheck and his ego, than the customer named Zac Davidson, who won’t let you know certain basic things are an upgrade. Zac Davidson is a man that gets his feelings hurt when he gets caught in a lie and starts to be disrespectful when he doesn’t agree with something you’re trying to explain to him.
Holiday builders doesn’t care about the customer. They only care about their wallets. They’ll rush to get the CO before having everything installed. In hopes of you signing before notice they put a hole in your drywall while installing your shelves. Or better yet the construction manager won’t even walkthrough the house prior to have any touch ups or fixes done before the first walk through. We found out our water heater wasn’t even hooked up correctly after closing. Holiday Builders are real comedians.
The trades that they hire can’t even get simple things done like paint and caulking and not painting the floor and door handles, we basically covered the whole house in blue tape and only 50% of it was taken care it. 50% of the trims around the door frames were missing paint and the other 50% looked like a blind man painted the door frames, thick goops of paint and splatter everywhere. They’ll even make sure the caulking where the base boards meet the dry wall has spider web cracking in every single ROOM. Every single one of these trades and construction managers need glasses because I do not honestly understand how you can be proud of your work and let customers find this type of garbage work.
We were so fed up with this process we ended up just fixing all of the issues ourselves. Don’t build with them unless you’re okay with paying for upgrades on basic things that should be standard and you’ll have to ask the construction managers like they’re a 4th grader if they completed their homework. And having to do all the basic touch ups yourselves. It’s extremely frustrating and sad that I can’t be excited about being my first home because of this shitty fucking experience. Also any response to this review will be taken as passive aggressive, if you state that this was taken care of because it wasn’t, everything still looks like shit.
The plumbers and septic company they use suck too. We’re still dealing with sewage smells in our home that they can’t figure out. Constant back ups due to poor plumbing ventilation and workmanship. The plumbers came to investigate and didn’t even have any of the right tools or equipment to do anything and had to borrow my equipment. If you’re wondering which clowns they use. Naber Plumbing and Brain David Septic.
They even under size the AC unit tonnage for the home. Your AC will run for 18 hours a day. I found that they didn’t even seal the area for where the cold air comes out the air handler. It was just blowing all the cold air into the AC room and into the attic. Mechanical One don’t know what they’re doing and Holiday Builder takes shortcuts everywhere they can with undersizing your AC unit and going with the cheapest labor.
Every single builder in the area builds homes faster than these clowns.
Holiday Builders suck. Ever heard the saying lazy people work twice. Everything about their workmanship is trash. The construction managers do not inspect work done by the trades after it is completed. Their scheduling sucks too. They lie about everything, every step of the way. Don’t build with them. We’re still finding issues every single damn day with this house. Don’t make the mistake of building with Holiday Builders. Build with Maronda or anyone else other than this clowns. Zac Davison sucks. Trish sucks. Chris Thornton sucks and his brother Kevin Thornton sucks even more, Steve Pettko sucks. Chris Cubillos Suck.

We are thinking of listing our home in the near future, however when a prospective buyer will look at it closely, they will see it needs a complete stain job. My wife and I have always done the staining however we are now to old to do it any more. We loath having someone else do it since they "won't do it as good as we would." So instead of restaining it, we are thinking we'll just list it as is and expect to reduce the price accordingly. I understand that will limit the size of the market that would be interested but would we loose substantially more on the price of the house than it would cost to have it restained? BTW, it isn't a simply job - it will need sanding and staining with parts of the house 35' off the ground. So it will be costly.

If I hire a mover through Task Rabbit and they get injured on the job in my premises, am I liable for their injuries?
I’m curious to know the same if it’s not done through task rabbit as well.

My wife (40f) seldom comes on Reddit so I’m (42m) not too worried about her seeing this. I’m going to talk to her more anyway but right now….i just feel a little lost and need to vent.
We have a 3.5 year old daughter who is great. While we ultimately conceived her the “regular” way it took a while and there was fertility testing as part of it. My count/quality was normal but her egg count was low. So I just figured, especially with the time that’s passed with no birth control efforts whatsoever, that that was just it: one and done and there’d be no other. I made my peace with it. Especially since, while I love my daughter with all my heart, I had hoped I’d have a son too.
I have a good job, and we live well - perhaps too well. My wife owns her own business and it doesn’t bring in much but she is able to cover incidentals for my daughter: clothes, shoes, etc. Yesterday we toured a private school trying to get ahead of things planning for my daughter’s education. Not cheap but doable, I thought. But like everyone else I feel like I’m struggling financially. Things are so expensive. I used to run a significant monthly surplus, now I’m basically breaking even. We live in a highly taxed state and that’s killing us too. But because of her business, leaving isn’t an option even if we wanted to (and I love our house and other aspects of our location, I just have to tolerate the local politics and high cost of living).
About an hour ago my wife called me into the bathroom and showed me a positive pregnancy test. Wtf. Our sex life isn’t even that good - a few times a month. But we’ve completely ignored the calendar too.
So now I should be over the moon happy, but I’m terrified. I’m exhausted all the time, how will I have the energy for two of them? My knees and back hurt constantly. I travel for work so I’m gone literally half the time which is tough on all of us. My mother in law is the only family we have to help and she lives six hours away. How will I possibly afford this? I’m just so, so scared that I’m not up to this.

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 :)

Hey everyone! I’m (20F) currently an au pair in Germany, with a wonderful host family. I’ve been with them for 4 months now and I’m really enjoying the childcare aspect of it all.
I’ve always loved kids, but never considered heading into childcare as a career until this experience.
I’ve decided that when my contract ends in January I’d like to pursue a full time nanny role. However, I’m wondering if this is a realistic goal, with only having 1 year of full-time childcare under my belt.
Throughout high school I volunteered at children’s events doing face painting and other activities. I also ran a small business that went to birthday parties/preschools for special events. Any babysitting I’ve done has been for family and close friends, which most employers won’t take very seriously.
I have 8 month until my contract is up, and I’d really like to do more to build up my resume. Aside from CPFirst-Aid (which I already have) do you guys have any recommendations for some online courses that will help improve my childcare knowledge? It doesn’t need to be a certificate-granting course, but that would be a bonus.
Any advice on finding your first nanny job would be appreciated as well!!

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 :)

Hi I’m a 29 year old female. When I was 13, I fell pregnant. This wasn’t a consensual relationship, I was a virgin who didn’t really even know how babies were made, i still played with barbies, I was raped by my friends 23 year old brother during a sleepover.
I didn’t tell anybody. I didn’t know I was pregnant, Id only started my periods a few months prior so there absence didn’t concern me and like I said, I didn’t really know how babies were made beyond the basics. I found out I was pregnant at 29 weeks when I went to ER with my parents for stomach pain.
My parents were very angry at me despite the circumstances. He was convicted and imprisoned. They tried to find a doctor who’d give me an abortion but none would due to gestation. They said I had to give the baby up and I went along with it, I had no support from them and I grew up having a very cold relationship with them. When my daughter was born I was inconsolable and didn’t want to give her up. I refused to and my daughter was forcefully taken from me at the hospital. After which I was hysterical and had to be sedated. I made attempts on my life in the months after that. I was then put in to boarding school, where I stayed until I was 18.
It wasn’t an open adoption, I was allowed to leave a letter with her and I also left her my necklace which was my prized possession at the time. The adoptive mother stated she wanted no contact which I was devastated about but the social worker told me I could have contact when she turned 18. After I turned 18 and left boarding school, I moved in with my Nan whilst attending university. My Nan gave me so much love and care and was very disappointed in my parents (my Nan had no knowledge of me even being pregnant)
When I was 21 I graduated and I also got pregnant, that relationship didn’t work out but I’ve since married and had 3 more children. But I’ve never stopped thinking about my first born. I gave birth to her on my 14th birthday so we share a birthday and every birthday I feel like I’m grieving. I go through periods of just crying and staying in bed feeling guilty at what I’d done. I still feel so guilty and I can’t cope with guilt.
Anyway, my daughter who is now 15 found me on Facebook 2 weeks ago (I have a distinct name and I still use my maiden name on there) she messaged me an angry message and then blocked me so I couldn’t even respond.
She messaged me saying that she hates me and I’m dead to her, she told me how much she loves her adoptive mother and as far as she’s concerned I don’t exist. She says I’ve turned her in to a “messed up person” She told me how she thought I was a disgusting person for giving her up for adoption because I wanted to “enjoy life without the burden of a child” her words. She called me a slut (among other words) and questioned why I was having sex at 13. She said that she hoped my other children die and called them racist terms (they are mixed) because she is angry that I kept them and not her and that she felt that meant I wasn’t good enough. She then went on to say her adoptive mother told her that
1: My parents (her bio grandparents) wanted her but I refused to look after her and wanted her to be adopted.
2: I wanted an abortion and told adoptive mother that I wished I could have had an abortion
3: That adoptive mother had reached out to me when I was 21 and pregnant with her first sibling to ask if I wanted contact, and I (according to her birth mum) said I didn’t care about her and wanted to forget the whole thing and asked her not to contact me again.
4: That I was sleeping around with a lot of men my age and didn’t know her bio dad as I’d been with so many male school friends which is why I got sent to boarding school because I was “out of control”
All the above are just outright lies. I am glad she doesn’t know the circumstances of her conception, I’d be happy if bio mum had told her for example that her father was a childhood boyfriend of mine because the truth is something she shouldn’t know until she’s older, but to suggest I was sleeping around with multiple men at the age of 13 and didn’t know who he was is disgusting when it’s not true.
Im not able to contact her back because she’s blocked me. I’ve looked at her profile from my husbands account, I’ve seen her bio mums Facebook profile but I don’t intend to contact either of them as much as I want to because I guess I will just tell her everything when she’s 18 if she wants to hear it because perhaps now is not the appropriate age.
Her mums Facebook shows that she is her only child, that she’s now divorced (her and her husband adopted my daughter so she’s since divorced him) they seem very close and have lots of pictures together.
Her Facebook is concerning and it’s public so I could see everything. She posts quotes about depression and anxiety, has scars on her wrists which I fear may be SH scars) writes status’ such as “no body cares about me I may as well just die” constantly posts pictures laying in a hospital bed.
I have since informed social services about what I’ve seen on Facebook and they’ve just told me that they can not discuss this with me due to confidentiality as she’s legally not my child but have said they can assure me that they are doing everything necessary to ensure she is ok.
I don’t really know what to do. She has a false impression of me told by her adoptive mother. None of which is true, she was so wanted and I’ve never got over it. I now fear that her thinking I rejected her and didn’t want her and she wasn’t good enough has led to some serious mental health issues and potentially these will only get worse or she could harm herself very badly based on lots of lies.
I want her to know I love her, I want her to know I wanted her but I was forced to give her up, I want her to know that I still love her and always will and that I’d do anything for her. I want to tell her I was never contacted by adoptive mother and had I have been I would have jumped at the opportunity to even just talk to my daughter. I want to tell her that I do know her bio father and I wasn’t sleeping with multiple men (although the truth regarding the rape shouldn’t be disclosed right now) I just want her to know all of this, but I’m powerless until she is 18. I have been told if I message her from a different account since I’m blocked I could face legal charges.
I am so scared of her hurting herself based on lies. Her adoptive mum whilst I believe does love her, has poisoned my daughter against me in an attempt to get my daughter to hate me because she doesn’t want daughter potentially coming back to me or forming a relationship with me and her getting pushed out, so she’s said all of this to make that impossible so she will be her only mother.
But that’s to the detriment of my daughter, my daughter clearly has mental health issues and whilst they could be from other things I know that feeling unloved, unwanted and having being told this information that is outright lies must be weighing heavily on her and making her feel inadequate. I can’t imagine if I was adopted and I heard things like that about my bio mum, it would devastate me and I would hate myself.
I don’t know what I’m hoping to gain from this post just looking for advice. I can contact her in 3 years. But I’m scared in those 3 years something bad could happen with the way her mental health is, and that something bad may happen without her knowing the truth about how much I love her.
I’ve been off sick from work since, I have been an emotional wreck. I just hope she’s okay even if she does hate me. Of course I’d love to tell her the truth but more than anything I want her to know the truth for the sake of her own mental well-being even if that means she still doesn’t want to speak to me. Social services just keep telling me that they can’t discuss anything with her about me beyond the basics of the fact that she’s adopted. The rest is down to adoptive mother to disclose if she wishes. When she is 18 she will get access to her file and know the true circumstances but until then, everything she knows is based on lies.