Sour throat body aches

Hello everyone! I wanted to write and share something constructive for this space, that hopefully goes beyond snarking specific names and personalities and helps those who have been harmed in one way or another find a bit of understanding around what happened to them and why.
I've shared pieces of my story here before but the gist is: I am not from the coaching world. I'm from the general spirituality world - from a spiritual modality that has an aspect of divine feminine and divine masculine that has always interested me, but few others in the community. I learned about this whole specific mess listening to love & light confessionals, and went deep into the rabbit hole. The perversion of understanding of masculine/feminine energy dynamics was horrifying but also enlightening. I'm big on learning how NOT to be from people who give me the major ick. This is why I've done a lot of deep diving in general on cults, gurus, and manipulative spirituality in general - and there's a lot to take away if you can go in with this mindset. I'm also hella autistic and love infiltrating niche internet subgroups whose experiences are much different than mine so I can - again - learn from the experieneces of others, and gain more empathy and understanding of the vast human experience.
I was a very forward facing person for the nonprofit I volunteered for for over 4 years. There was no "guru" that I supplicated, however there was a person formally in charge who abused their power and the willingness of others to help the organization, and was known to be cruel in private, when it suited them. I didn't see this person as above me - in fact in a lot of ways they were quite pitiful and needed a lot of help/support in their role - which is what I did, willingly and for practically free. At one point, the entire org sat down and did a call in of this person, however, they were able to push everyone that they couldn't control out of the way and rewrote the story with themselves as the victim (we all know this one). The final falling out happened at the end of 2019, so luckily for them Covid gave them some time to figure out how to run their events without me (they hired a paid staff).
Anyway, I gave many many hundreds of hours to this cause, and then the person in charge was able to take advantage of me and then push me out of the community I had served very seriously for 6 years with rumors that I had been trying to steal money. This is so far beyond the truth, and everyone involved directly knows this, but no one came to dispell the rumor. So, I've been heartbroken by supposedly "spiritual" leaders of a community, that's for sure. In fact listening to Katya was part of the cult deprogramming that me and a group who had left together went through (this group also used, abused, and betrayed me but that's another story!)
So, this isn't going to be about me, I just wanted to share my background. This is about what the divine feminine and the divine masculine "REALLY" are. This may get a bit woo in here but I can't imagine anyone here is afraid of woo. In fact it's the mystery of the spiritual experience that allows these people to cause so much harm. So let me try to remove some of that mystery.
The creation is polarized, in many ways. One of those ways is masculine/feminine. The masculine force is the will, the conscious mind, and that which puts the infinity of possible experience into order. It in and of itself is quite fallible. The feminine force is the subconscious mind - all that is - and the untapped potential of this reservoir. The masculine reaches for the feminine, and if the will (masculine) is properly configured, the unmanifest creation (feminine) will give him something in return. The masculine NEEDS the feminine but the feminine doesn't really NEED the masculine, however it does desire the masculine's attention being focused it its direction (instead of random mundane wordly experiences). And the feminine wants the masculine's attention consistently, lest the feminine will not be consistent at all in its response. This attention can be forceful or gentle, but it must be consistent.
Every human has a balance of masculine/feminine energy in them, and while women are socially conditioned to tend towards feminine expression and men towards masculine, biological sex really has very very little to do with it. There are of course, positive feminine expressions and negative, and positive male expressions and negative. What these polarity goons do is mostly focus on a mix of positive/negative masculine expression for the man, 0 female expression, and then only positive feminine expression for the woman with maybe, possibly, a bit of positive masculine expression (only during working hours when you're in seperate offices, and only if you're paying the bills, ofc)
Typically, we are attracted to partners who "balance" out our spiritual energy - so the "polarization" in a relationship can be anywhere from hyper masc/hyper femme to barely masc/barely femme - and again, this is NOT a hard and fast rule and has almost NOTHING to do with sex other than a general (mostly cultural) bias. The hyper femme/hyper masc scenario can definitely be more, well, exciting and dramatic than a relationship between two people who have very little polarized charge in that way between them. But that's likely why few of these polarity gurus have any experience in longevity of relationships - they are fueling their "twin flame" relationship with manufactured drama and trauma bonding. In reality, in a relationship, you are supposed to grow together and be more willing to meet each other where you are at in the moment, instead of demanding they be a near perfect idealized form before you offer them any attention/respect.
The reason these male teachers push polarity doctrine is literally because of their own wounding of the expression of the masculine/feminine. Men (especially USian men) have been taught that expressing any aspect of their feminine selves is repulsive and weak and probably gay. So, their solution to their own inability to be vulnerable is to attack women - for being "too masculine" - aka some balanced expression of both, normal! They want their women to be 100% pure unformed childlike energy with no will of their own, just a will that can be given to the man. They want them to embody this feminine space as close to 100% of the time so that they are forced into their masculine 100% of the time. Girlies, if you are in your masculine, this makes them feel more in their feminine and - gosh that's just icky and disgusting. You don't want your man to get a boner for you when you're in the masculine - that might make him GAY! In the very least it's totally beta to be attracted to a masculine woman and basically gay anyway. No thanks!
I'm sorry to be facetious, but this is in general a lot of the subconscious and even sometimes conscious thought processes behind these hyper polarity relationships. These are not evolved, embodied people. These are people who are still very invested in the old fashioned human status quo that has served them for a long time. We had the thread a few weeks back with the Desire on Fire lady (ugh her name escapes me) talking about how her husband had to "put her in her place" for being "too masculine" and how he really just "didnt want her" when she was in her masculine, when she was literally just running her business. Masculine wounding almost ALWAYS shows up as men being jealous of women being better at them in their own field - or really successful publicly at all - and this is why women STILL have a hard time breaking into male dominated spaces. We are systemically kept out because men die inside when they feel inferior to women. They were told this wasn't supposed to happen!!!! In fact, the person who spiritually abused me was a man - I see now how he "kept" me as a pet because of my high standing in the community. But this meant I was still firmly below him in certain ways - a much more comfortable place for me to be, someone who challenged him on his "expertise".
This polarity movement is taking a true spiritual concept and distorting it just to set women back. They don't want you to have an opinion or agency - other than "me want money" and "me want sex". They want you to play on Instagram all day and recruit ladies for them to sexually assault at your joint "retreats". They want you to only feel valued if you're made up and dressed up and "desired" by men. None of this internalized self worth stuff, only external male validation is allowed. Ladies, if any of you reading this are with some sort of this type of man, please, I beg you, choose the bear. This is the type of man who leaves you as soon as your body culminates too many signs of being aged. They are entitlted to a specific cartoon image of what they think a "woman" is, and sadly this culture has made young women INCREDIBLY easy to manipulate, so finding another partner is often quite easy for older men. It's all by design.
Here's another spiritual truth that is often obscured: One of the polarities of divinity is the left hand path and the right hand path. The left hand path is the path of control, wealth, using others, egocentrism, etc. The right hand path is about acceptance, generosity, helping others, and sacrifice. The middle path is a path with little to no power - it's the path of comfort, the path most people are on.
When one walks the middle path - i.e. has not really begun to truly develop their spiritual side - they do not yet have spiritual discernment. What happens when they come across someone who has been using spiritual principles to "build their wealth/power" is that they see someone with a spiritual light - and this isn't super common on social media. When we're hungry for it, we're like a moth to the flame. That's why they always know they'll be another mark. The problem then is when we don't have discernment, we cannot tell which "hand" the light is coming from, and often it's very easy to confuse the left hand for the right and vice versa. For instance, I am giving up a large part of my day to write this purely to help others in this community - Carly or MAL or someone might stumble upon this and see it as "evil". But that's because they see the light, but to them it's against their light, so I'm the evil one. But all I'm trying to offer is freedom of mind, and they're mad because they want your bag, and this is dependent on you being confused and them keeping a crumb of clarity behind a paywall. 💰
Now, some of these girlies are walking the "left hand path" a lot better than the others. I dont know many coaches beyond those talked about here, but I would say someone like MAL has a pretty firm grasp on who she is - a scam artist, a liar, and a user. She's always making up stories and whatnot - she's a pathological liar. She will do anything to get her way. This is pretty serious when you've been behaving this way for years and years. Her image is very rigid and polished, and despite showing up unprepared and offering word salad to her paying persons, her "outer circle" (social media feed etc) is much more curated than most of the other coaches I've seen. She's at the top of the pyramid so she has a huge amount of control and influence. If she cracks someday, we'll see it, and usually people struggle to return to the top once they falter. I'm sure she's already showing some signs of paranoia, which is the first sign a high control person is starting to become unhinged.
Then there are the messier girlies, like Carly, and Karen who has recently been more thoroughly exposed here. These ladies show up very vulnerable to social media, and often are struggling with illness - as someone has said here before, Carly's early coaching gigs were about health and dealing with chronic illness, until she realized that space wasn't sexy or profitable. I'm not saying this is the root of all illness, but transient illness can be a sign of a spiritual mismatch in intentions/action - especially with these people who claim to be "healers" or adjacent to that space. You have to walk your talk, or your body begins to show your hypocrisy. There is a part of these ladies who feel they are truly "helping the planet" and get confused internally when the reaction of their "offers" isn't for people to fall down at their feet worshipping them. This is why they say stuff like "wealth is a mindset!" and other magical thinking - most of them have lived privileged lives and have never been "out" of abundance. They think their "luck" is a carefully curated vibration that they can rub off on others. And like, while I believe that being in the vibrations of someone who is more spiritually mature can help "elevate" someone - these people are playing with spiritual practices and, while seeing some results, truly have no clue what they are talking about and dealing with. People who truly understand manifestation, whether left or right hand, are not busting their ass all day on Instagram trying to recruit lukewarm clients for peanuts. Carly tries SO HARD to sell that all of her work is "easy" and she can "take a walk in the middle of the day!" and not work while she's bleeding and whatnot. But girl, you're hustling and thirsty all over Insta all day every day - this is not abundance, this is not wealth and gratitude, it's giving "big empty black hole in my soul that will never be filled except with more money" energy, babe.
Then there are the girlies like xogingy and The Content Queen whose whole brand seems to be just being a mess all over the place. This sells because it makes people think "well I'm messy maybe I can be messy and rich/successful" but the mess for these girls is much more embraced and embodied than with the prim types like Carly and Karen, who want to be pure luxe and sexy and divine feminine perfection. But the luxe and sexy types are really doing the recruiting for their sexual in-person retreats (or clothing optional zooms) because they're just mega horny all the time (which - btw - is another sign of spiritual imbalance)
And that's the thing - being horny all of the time means your energy body is JACKED. It's not a sign of a free flow of creative energy to crave sex all of the time. Of course a major aspect of this is the sexual magic - yes, there is magic in sex, and I think it's where these folks get most of their magic, because they follow left hand sexual magic practice exclusively (control BDSM). They do play rapes (and borderline real rapes and, in some cases, actual real rapes on their clients/partners), orgasm denial, humiliation, pain rituals - all stuff that truly, objectively, isn't good for the soul. And notice how it's almost always one sided - the male being in total control of the female - though, Carly's substack did have a story about how they did a "role reversal" where she raped/humiliated him and that was um, something I read. 😳 But generally it's the women's job to always be turned on and "dripping wet" and whatnot, so that when her masculine partner gets a boner she's ready for him to slide it in. And then that's always the best sex, the sex that you "surrender" to.... On the contrary, sex between "right hand" practitioners tends to leave both partners feeling quite satisfied and sated - heck, even if only one happens to orgasm! Whereas control oriented sex often has orgasm denial which intentionally leaves the person craving more.
All this is to say, no one should feel guilty for being duped, or conned, or confused, even still. Almost all of these people have weaponized spiritual concepts in some ways and are wielding them with the intention to separate you from your money. They actually do have something that works. But they will NEVER sell you the whole story. And the fact is, this experience likely did happen to you because your soul was aching for some sort of uplevel - or initiation. It's just that initiation rarely looks like getting what we want. MAL et al makes it look like initiation is giving a rich lady 5 figures, popping a bottle of champagne, and roleplaying as that rich lady to which you just gave all that money (or at least, roleplaying as her social media feed). But if you're truly in it for the soul, your experience is going to help you uncover your soul. And part of uncovering our souls at this point in time seems to be having some serious spiritual trauma. And I know some people here probably only did this as "playing around" and not serious and unfortunately, playing with spirituality can be can be dangerous in and of itself. These is not to victim blame at all. It just is the nature of the spiritual path that it may growl and bite at you to test your growth. It's not just a sexy pleasure party 24/7, unless you want to step on a LOT of people to get there.
Anyway, this is very long and I'm not sure it's going to even fit into a reddit post at this point. But I just wanted to share some of the spiritual insights I've had over the years (been on my spiritual journey for over a decade at this point). I don't know it all, but I do know that I live with a general peace of mind that I wish I could sell in a coaching package or voxer group. But I can't/won't do that. So I'll keep to my lifelong duty of making longwinded, mega autistic posts on internet forums that might help a few people orient to a less painful or confused frame of mind, free of charge.
But on that note, before I finish, I'll offer my general spiritual advice: Firstly, take a short time every day to do some sort of sitting/meditation. Learning how to quiet the mind is a skill, and it's the first skill required to learn discernment. Once we can quiet the mind, we can start to learn which thoughts are our own and which thoughts we have absorbed from others - and if you haven't begun this process yet, you may be surprised to find out that the vast majority of your thoughts are actually just society, family, teachers, social media, advertising, etc etc, repeating in your mind and taking up valuable real estate. This is the real hurdle to "manifestation" - clearing away all the false desires that get in the way of our true desires. Subsequently, learning about chakras and tuning into my energy body has also given me a good base for insight and clarity that comes from within my own body.
Secondly, just try to think of others before yourself more often than not. Don't justify manipulating people for your own benefit. Oneness means you treat others how you want to be treated - in a gentle, and nurturing way. When we harm others, especially from a spiritual place, we perpetuate harm, and therefore accept that potential harmful treatment of ourselves. Treating others sincerely with reverence and respect, and setting boundaries so that we don't allow people to treat us with disrespect, is how we generate a reality that treats us with reverence and respect by default. A lot easier said than done, but it is possible.
Love and light to you all.

I got tested for HIV at these time intervals:10, 35, 60, 77, 91 days after potential exposure & they have been negative, but I still think I have it due to my body aches & yesterday, I went to a public swimming pool and got a bleeding wound, did the people who are in the water got infected? I have debilitating anxiety so my pains and rumination probably contribute to this paranoia.

I got tested for HIV at these time intervals:10, 35, 60, 77, 91 days after potential exposure & they have been negative, but I still think I have it due to my body aches & yesterday, I went to a public swimming pool and got a bleeding wound, did the people who are in the water got infected?

I got tested for HIV at these time intervals:10, 35, 60, 77, 91 days after potential exposure & they have been negative, but I still think I have it due to my body aches and chest pain & yesterday, I went to a public swimming pool and got a bleeding wound, did the people who are in the water got infected?

Hi everyone,
as a preface, I am currently looking for a therapist to help me with this but that takes a while and I wanted to get some input from people with lived experiences. As a heads-up, I will be talking about my personal struggle with my (male)body and sexuality so if you would rather avoid confronting a similar part of yourself, please feel free to skip this one :).
Also, I am thoroughly inexperienced in this area. If I am saying something that might be insensitive, please to tell, I want to be better.
So for starters I am not out to anyone (even myself). I am currently AMAB, straight, have identified as such all my life and use he/him pronouns. However, I have never felt "masculine"; neither in actions, nor my body.
After many years of slight doubts that I suppressed over and over, I want to finally figure out what I really want/am. I am exhibiting some signs of transgenderism, but I am finding it hard to entertain the thought that I really might be. I am currently just dabbling in thought experiments towards slowly loosening my self-image of "just" male some and I have no idea where this might lead.
As for my actual experience, I have always been the "soft" guy. I danced, sang in choirs, liked to go shopping, enjoyed nice clothes, was mostly friends with girls in high school, hated anything stereotypically "male" and it is and always has been hard for me to connect with other people on that "male" friendship level. I have never, however, had the urge to actively outwardly be more feminine either at least when it comes to anything related to mannerism or dress. It's more when I look at the kinds of social interactions my GFs/sistemother have had with their friends, that I find myself craving similar connections.
My biggest inner struggle is permanently my relationship with my body. In a nutshell, I hate my exterior genitals. I will avoid looking in any mirror, only wear tight underwear that prevents me from noticing things moving around. If I'm having a good day and, say, look down while wearing swimming shorts and I see the outline, my mood sours. I cannot really enjoy receiving intimate attention where that thing is the focus (receiving oral is terrible) while I adore giving pleasure. This makes equitable sexual relations ... a struggle (also I consider myself somewhere on the demi-greysexual side). I have felt like this in some way for probably 20 years (I'm 34 ... kinda late to the game of questioning my gender). I experience pretty strong arousal at the thought of being a woman. Whatever sexual imagery I see, whether in real life or in media, I cannot help but imagine myself as the female part. Just seeing male primary genitals is just about the biggest turn-off. I have tried tucking and have had moderately decent results temporarily but have not found it useful or effective for anything more than a quick feel-good around the house and to see how I would feel when I look down and don't see him (spoiler: pretty good). I would like to be better at it.
I don't know that I would call it gender dysphoria though ... I am generally not unhappy living life as a (soft) guy and while I wouldn't mind exploring some and see how I feel, I currently don't know that living my social life as a woman is what I want. If I could choose to by reborn as a woman, sure, I would say yes but with the path I am currently on, that seems very far away.
I guess I am just confused and finally want to address it and try to do justice by myself. I would be grateful for any insights, experiences, resources, kind words, smiling faces :) Y'all are fantastic and I love the positivity here! Cheers!

https://ibb.co/mXc6Pyw
My daughter, 15F, started feeling ill Apr 28. It started with fever, body ache, and congestion/sinus pain and cough and ear ache, and deep fatigue. We treated with advil/tylenol, figuring it was just a normal cold. It was getting worse and throat was very inflamed (though not sore, apparently) with those white spots so started clarithromycin May 5 (allergic to amoxicillin). Did a course of 7 days, twice daily. May 6 we started doing peridex rinse 2x day, and saltwater baking soda rinse every 2 hours. A couple days into this routine, her throat started hurting badly but the fever and other symptoms started getting better. But throat has been steadily getting worse, along with pain in the back of the head and neck, and still a bit of a cough. The doctor prescribed another course of clarithromycin since the throat is still inflamed with white spots (picture in link is current). We are on day 3 of the second course of clarithromycin. We have had a swab come back negative for strep and a mono blood test also come back negative. The pain in throat, back of the head and neck seems to be getting worse, worst in the mornings upon waking. The tylenol and advil do help the pain.
If it's not strep or mono, what else could this be?
(Taking vit D 5000iu/day due to deficiency, and iron supplement as well, normal dose)

I just came across these myths, Maybe they can tell us something about Luffy, Dragon, Imu and the One Piece.
Rahu (my take is IMU):
The tales begin in the "remotest periods of the earliest of time, when the devas and asuras churned the ocean of milk to extract from it the amrita, the elixir of immortality." - Svarbhanu, an Asura (demon) deceived Vishnu’s female avatar Mohini, posing as a Deva(god) to steal the elixir of immortality. Displeased, Mohini cut Svarbhanu’s head. Svarbhanu was henceforth referred to as Rahu (head) and Ketu (body), could not die, but his head was separated from his body.
Following this event, Rahu (IMU) and Ketu (Five Elder planets representing his torso, both legs and arms) gained the status of planets, and could influence the lives of humans on Earth.
Rahu and Ketu became bitter enemies with Surya (Sun - Sun God Nika or Monkey D. Luffy) and Chandra (Moon - Marshall D. Teach) for exposing his deception and leading to his decapitation.
Hanuman (hindu deity that inspired Sun Wookong):
When Hanuman was an infant, he was once left unattended by his earthly mother and father. He became hungry, and when the Sun rose, he believed it to be a ripe fruit. So, Hanuman leapt up towards the Sun with extreme speed. Vayu (Wind God) his celestial father, blew cold wind on him to protect him from the burning Sun. Coincidentally, Rahu (Imu maybe) was meant to swallow the Sun (Eternal Flame?) and eclipse it that day. As Rahu approached the Sun, he saw Hanuman (Nika) about to eat it.
Hanuman saw Rahu and thought Rahu to be a fruit as well, so he attempted to eat him too. Rahu fled to the court of the king of the devas, Indra (Lightning God), and complained that while he was meant to satisfy his hunger with the Sun, there was now a bigger Rahu who tried to consume the Sun and himself.
Indra set out on Airavata, his divine elephant (Zunesha?), to investigate alongside Rahu, who retreated once more when he saw how enormous Hanuman had grown. Hanuman was playing with the Sun's chariot and reached for Rahu again. As Rahu cried out to Indra for help, Hanuman saw the Airavata and mistook it for yet another fruit.
When he approached in his giant form, Indra struck his left jaw with a thunderbolt and injured him. Hanuman began falling back towards the Earth when he was caught by Vayu.
Kuafu (a giant of chinese legend):
There was a vast mountain in the desolated plains of the north. In the mountain forest lived a tribe of mighty giants (The Kuafu-Shi). They were led by Kuafu (Joyboy and Roger); the grandson of Houtu (Mother Earth). The giants were strong but kind, leading simple lives.
The leader, Kuafu, was not only tall and muscular, but also had strong legs which enabled him to run faster than a rabbit. He often led his people to fight with beasts for survival. Thus he often wore yellow snakes he caught as earrings, and swung snakes in his hands with pride.
One day, Kuafu sat on a slope watching the sun slowly setting in the west. As the land was gradually covered in darkness, he suddenly came up with a wild idea. If he captured the sun, would he then bring bright light and warmth to the world forever?
Hearing his idea, many people tried to talk him out of it.
“Don’t even think about it,” one said. “The sun is too far way, and you will die from fatigue!”
“The sun is too hot. You will be burned alive,” another said.
But Kuafu was determined to compete with the sun and try to catch it.
As the sun rose the next morning, Kuafu bade farewell to his tribe and started chasing the sun with a cane in his hand.
The sun was just like a naughty child, prancing across the sky. Kuafu raced across the land like a gush of wind, chasing the sun relentlessly. He chased it over mountains and rivers, shaking the land with every step he took.
The sun rose higher and higher and yet Kuafu kept chasing it with sweat streaming down his face.
He was famished and extremely thirsty so he ran to a fruit tree to quench his thirst and relieve his hunger. When tired, Kuafu leaned against his cane and took a quick rest.
The chase continued and the sun began dropping in the west.
Kuafu got agitated and shouted, “You keep on running, and see if I don’t catch you!”
The sun didn’t seem to care at all and moved even faster into the western horizon. Kuafu twirled his cane, and scurried across the plains, racing thousands of miles toward the sun. It seemed that he was getting closer and closer. He chased it all the way to the Mount Yanzi. As Kuafu stretched forth his mighty arms in an attempt to catch the ball of fire, a wave of heat gushed in, blowing him far way. Fortunately, he regained balance with his cane.
Kuafu kept his chin up and started chasing yet again. The closer he got to the sun, the hotter it got. His sweat drained profusely, leaving his clothes soaked. He took his clothes off and exposed his dark and strong chest.
As he kept running, Kuafu felt terribly thirsty. His throat was dry and sore. Suddenly, his eyes lit up with the Yellow River coming into his sight. He rushed over and leaned into the river, gulping up the water fiercely.
He was so thirsty that he drank up all the water in the Yellow River. Still thirsty, Kuafu ran to the Weihe River and started gulping again. The Weihe River got drunk dry as well. But Kuafu’s thirst was still not quenched. So he headed north to another big lake.
The big lake sat in the north of Mount Yanmen. The water was clean and clear, with birds flocking and flourishing around. Thinking all of the fresh water, Kuafu scurried over even faster. He tried to get there before the sun set, so that he could keep on chasing the sun again after quenching his thirst.
However, his footsteps got heavier and heavier. The intense thirst slowed him down immensely, and Kuafu fell down like a mountain with a large booming sound.
Just as he fell, Kuafu flung his cane over with all his strength. The cane made an arc in the air and then fell into the distance.
Just then, the sun set into the Yu Valley of Mountain Yanzi, leaving a golden afterglow on Kuafu’s face.
The sun rose again the next dawn, yet Kuafu had already turned into a huge mountain where he fell down.
On the northern side of the mountain, there was a lush peach orchard, which was turned from his cane.
Kuafu (Joyboy and Roger) believed that there would always be someone else trying to chase the sun like he did and the peach orchard (One Piece) he left would help them quench their thirst. Just as he planned, the orchard flourished, creating shelter and shade for passers-by and offered fruit (Devil Fruit?) to relieve their thirst and exhaust (give hope).
Though the myth suggested that Kuafu chased the Sun on the spur of a moment, some scholars conjectured that it may have actually been planned for the whole tribe searching for water source in the draught. Chasing the sun indicated that the tribe tried migrating westward for water.

How can I evade you when our paths intersect? Should I feign indifference, as if we were mere strangers? Can I ignore the fact that you once knew the secrets of my body intimately? How do I quell the yearning in my heart for just a fleeting glance, a moment where our eyes might meet?
How do I navigate our encounters without feeling the weight of my lingering affections? How do I shield my heart from imagining there is longing in your gaze? Perhaps closing my eyes would dull the sting of your indifference. But forgive me if I choose to step back for now, to spare myself the ache of seeing you move on while I'm still so deeply caught in our memories.
Every time I close my eyes, you're there, vivid as ever. Your laughter, your touch, the way you feel, the way you taste —it's etched into every corner of my being. But I know I need to set myself free. Just as you have. Please, show me how to release myself from the hold you have on my heart. Why does it have to hurt this much?
I’m sorry if I turn away when our paths converge. I’m not avoiding you, I’m trying to shield us both from the words I can't bear to speak. I fear I might say something I shouldn’t, something you shouldn’t hear. I'm sorry I still love you, even as I know you've moved on and you are with someone new. Allow me to love you from afar. Forget me. Forgive me.

I'm embarrassed to post this, sorry forbthe picture, I wanted to see if there's anyone who can relate to what I'm going through.
Symptoms one month ago • full after eating 3 bites • very nauseous before and after eating • no appetite • dizzy and off balance • legs swelling • mid back pain • diarrhea/light color stool/yellow-Red mucus/floating stool
Symptoms previously • legs swelling • shortness of breath-while holding 5 or more pounds • fast heartbeat when moving • bowel movement 2 to 3 days • dizzy off balance • stool yellow on paper
Background, my TSH was at a 2.6 in January, go my levels checked this week TSH is at a 4.5, it never goes up that much in a short period of time, I was feeling fine intel I took 50,000 vitamin D for 8 weeks(1 pill a week) on the 3rd week I was • had more energy • loss 5 pounds • nothing pointed to my thyroid
Than 2 more weeks into taking vitamin D • bones are aching/body pains • limping/numbness in both legs+swelling • stool this yellow on paper • constipation ect • lots of belching=tasting food from the night before/lot of foul smelling gas This has been going on for 3 months now
I have a doctor appointment with my endocrinologist on Monday and a G.I appointment on July 31st, I really hope the G.I doc doesn't dismiss my symptoms Because of my thyroid, I've had this same symptoms come and go for 4 years. Thank you for reading my long post

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 muttered, 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 finding the sky, before dropping to his knees and heaving up pinkish liquid.
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.

Hello everyone. I’ve come to Reddit as a resort to not knowing where else to go. For context, I’m a 25 year old college student living at home with a father who has prostate cancer. He was diagnosed about two years ago after prolonging his doctors visit for body pains after assuming it was pain from a prior car accident. By the time he finally went, he was already stage 4. I’ve had other family members who have had different forms of cancer, so, I’ve seen the physical and emotional toll that accompanies having a sick family member. However, I’ve never experienced something like this that’s this close to me, witnessing the decline in health day-by-day.
I’m writing this post because I feel absolutely helpless, and I’m not sure what more I can do. He’s currently a vegan, and we’ve tried herbal remedies (sea moss, black seed oil, sour soup leaves, etc, with no results. We’ve tried alkaline dieting but found that it’s hard to maintain, especially when he becomes deficient in nutrients. He’s lost 50+lbs in two months because he cannot keep any food down. And as we speak, he is in excruciating pain. The cancer spread to his bone and there’s multiple tumors in his spine and skull. The doctors have put him through multiple treatment’s and medicines like xtandi, pain killers, chemo, etc. Just seems like there’s nothing that’s keeping his psi levels down. I can’t help but to blame the overall American health care system when he’s taken all these treatments with no results, and the immunotherapy Keytruda treatment that could help save his life is denied by insurance.
I mentioned my age and that I was a student because I am not established with a career yet, and I have no clue on how to handle any of this emotionally and financially. I have a job that makes me about a little under 3k a month, it’s not much, but I can’t leave my job because it’s paying for my university tuition. After all expenses (rent, insurances, groceries,etc) I can’t help out any more financially. Ive cut back on useless spending, going out/eating out, and am starting to get into debt ($1.5k) after helping with family expense’s. I’ve thought about picking up another job, but I’ve been doing 15 credit semesters to try and hurry my graduation process (about 1 year left) so I can get a career to help my parents out. The workload is a lot, I shamefully admit that I have to abuse my ADHD medication just to keep up with work, caretaking, and school. I feel horrible even talking about my problems, but emotionally I cannot handle this. I don’t sleep often because of school and the anxiety over the possibility my father will passes. If he passes, I don’t even know how my mother and I will manage. My mother and step father just got married over a year ago, and after all my mother has gone through, for her to finally find her person and to lose him so soon breaks me.
This whole situation isn’t about me, so my problems are way less important compared to the life of my father. That’s why this feeling of helplessness is unbearable because it’s not a matter of wanting to do more, I need to do more for the sake of his life and my mom.
I ask for your advice and opinions on whether I should pause university, and strictly focus on a job that could sustain my family better, or continue with school and pick up a second job and just try to make it work? How does dealing with a sick family member manage emotionally? Also, if there’s any possible resources for prostate cancer treatments, and any sources that can help with the finances? Thank you so much in advance. I wish nothing but good health and a happy life to all of you regardless if you respond or not.

Roughly a month ago after excessive alcohol consumption I realized my hangover symptoms weren't normal.. Clammy skin, cotton in the brain, heart palpitations, and dysphagia. The last two were unique and especially the dysphagia was completely new. Every second or third word if I wasn't extremely focused would come out slurred. While at work this freaked me out, a lot. I managed to get myself together in the second half of my shift and most of my symptoms went away. I suddenly had energy again and didn't feel like I was thinking through molasses.
Fast forward over the next 4-5 weeks I would experience new symptoms, typically trailing heavy drinking days. The cotton in the brain, trouble swallowing (full-blown dysphagia hasn't happened again so far), heart palpitations and general weird body and mind feelings..
I only drink on weekends, but lately I have been putting away some serious alcohol compared to past practice. I haven't been doing this consistently for years, I typically take breaks such as observing dry January. I have no doubt my recent scare involves some alcohol withdrawal, but I believe it also lead straight into an almost 48 hour long panic or anxiety attack.
Before 5 weeks ago I considered myself someone that mostly became anxious in normal and appropriate times to do so. However, I have been reaching a substantial amount of stress lately.. Things not done, new experiences on the horizon, not following through with healthier practices, etc..
Now then onto my most recent experience, Wednesday was day 3 of heavy drinking. I think I would sum up maybe 5,000-6,000ml of 8% beer on Wednesday alone. I woke up still a little intoxicated, my fitbit clocked 5-6hrs of sleep. I proceed to work where I develop some of the previous symptoms as I sober up: Clammy skin, trouble swallowing, confusion/cotton brain, heart palpitations, shortness of breath. After I make it off-shift 10 hours later I start to feel a bit better. I make it home, and I take some recently prescribed hydroxyzine. (I visited Urgent Care a week prior for help with some of these symptoms, the doctor didn't ask nor did I volunteer my drinking habits. He was however convinced I was suffering from panic or anxiety attacks.)
After taking 25mg and trying for some much needed sleep I begin to go into an episode of fear, maybe even dread. All of my previous symptoms return including some new ones: Chills, Hot Flashes, Muscle Spasms, Restless Legs, Twitching, Insomnia. I got about 1 hour of sleep Thursday Night. Every attempt was met by jerking awake the second I entered sleep.. like having a door shut in your face. The worst symptoms showed up after my attempt at sleep. A rising feeling in my stomach like being on a rollercoaster that would travel up my body but stop around my chest area, sudden onset of intense fatigue or a wave of cotton-brain, and an uncontrollable feeling in my throat and jaw that I can't seem to describe.
These symptoms continued pretty consistently for 48 hours. I did get 3 hours of sleep on the second night. I did not go to the hospital. I decided on the third day if they persisted I would go to the ER. So far most symptoms have tapered down to become non-existent or very minimal. I do still get a smaller rising sensation in my stomach anytime I panic, such as thinking about if I'll be able to sleep tonight, etc..
I came here to tell this story but also to ask if anyone has experienced these scarier symptoms during a panic or anxiety attack. I have stopped the sauce for now, and classic Google is telling me that my symptoms can be anything from dehydration to epilepsy.
I am brand new to panic/anxiety disorders. Apologies for the long read.

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.

Hi
I went for my injection this morning at a 11am I am UK based since having it I've been feeling tired, had the shakes earlier but this passed, now I've got a sore throat
The injection was for shoulder pain, I've felt fine overall no head aches, or issues with heart palpatations
Anyone else have a similar issue I've checked my shoulder it isn't red, or itchy from where it was injected my face isn't red like it says about common side effects would it be worth phoning them in the morning?

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.

Today, I lost our Alfie after 11 years with us.
Alfie was a rescue that we met 11 years ago, to this day. A small, chihuahua mix – he was often timid with others and people, but for some reason, grew very interested in us at the dog park day. We were there to actually review adopting another dog, but that dog took no interest. Instead, Alfie (then named Rugger) followed us around the dog park as my partner (now husband) and I walked around the dog park. We would look back, and there he was – checking us out and shyly walking the other direction each time we caught him. Our heart became set on him, and as he sat in the back while other more aggressive dogs with their love came forward, we were set on him and pushed our way through the crowd to get back to him.
Right away, we could tell that he was possibly abused as a stray from San Bernardino. He was cautious and hated us picking him up – his body would fall flat to the floor. Regardless, he still worked through his timidness and crawled into bed and went under the sheets on our first night and slept with this. He always felt shy and timid with strangers, never scared just not too sure, but he blossomed and showcased his love, fun and energy with us. We always got to see him for all he is and could be. I could tell that he trusted us – and I know that sounds cliché since I’m sure every pet parent feels this way, but it seems like he knew we would always have his back. He never left our side and would come with us to family gatherings just as if a child would. He was our baby and he knew it.
Last year, kidney disease popped up on our radar at stage 2 – it was a shock, but after 10 years and an unknown true age (rescue estimated 3, vet estimated 4-5), we knew that we were getting into this old age problems. Suddenly, his teeth got bad – and we were hesitant to do anesthesia. But they got worse and worse as in the case of most Chihuahua’s, and we did some blood work to see if he was stable before scheduling an appointment. Then we were told it was stage 3.
He was so uncomfortable with his mouth, we knew we had to do something – but then we started considering his medications, his back injections, his anemia, his lethargy, his qualify of life… We made a decision, then it was back and forth on some good days, til it wasn’t. We made the decision to put him down yesterday, and this AM the vet came over and put him down in the living room with him in my arms.
I am absolutely heartbroken and I cannot stop crying. I’m physically feeling pain in all parts of my body. My head hurts, my nose hurts, my eyes hurt, my throat hurts, my chest hurts… everything is just hurting from nonstop convulsing crying. The vet said he was passing already from the sounds of it and her visual examination, and not even a half dose of his sedative caused him to start going and an irregular heart beat (he pulled away yelping from the injection). But I can’t shake that I chose this and chose his death. I can’t get rid of this guilt and this horrible feeling. And then I remember everything, then I focus on missing him, then its guilt, and now its me being pissed that I didn’t get more time with him and that this feels so unfair and how dare God take him from me with conditions that led us to this point.
I don’t know what to do. I am just repeating everything in my head nonstop. I keep expecting him laying right next to me and to feel his warmth, or him asking for help onto the bed or couch. I can’t stand to look at all the things that gave him joy (being a Chihuahua from CA in Washington State, mostly blankets and space heaters). Everything is causing me grief and pain. I feel like this is excessive but I cannot stop – it’s been 7 hours but I don’t know. This feels like too much and I don’t know if I’m strong enough.
I don’t even know what I’m looking for, it just seemed like someone could take this mess and tell me something. Anything. I just miss my boy and the only thing that would make me feel better is having him back. This is just too hard. I know he may have been up to 16 years old, but this still just kills me.

hello! i think i may be allergic to alcohol but i never met anyone else who experiences what i do when i drink so i guess I'm just looking for some insight.
some backstory, i was a huge binge drinker from 14-19 like im talking i would puke then just wash my mouth out with more liquor. (not) surprisingly i developed a piss poor relationship with alcohol and struggled for a very long time with my relationship with it. eventually sometime when i was 19 (im 22 now) my body just completely stopped tolerating alcohol. i used to drink like a fish then it was like 1 drink or 5 i would get VIOLENTLY ill. i assumed this was because i was just drinking to often so eventually i just stopped drinking for my mental/physical health. fast forward to now, i RARELY if ever drink but last night i went out with some friends and have 4 shots. that was it before this i hadn't drank in over 6 months. i took nothing else and they were twist off shooters. what im about to tell you is what happens everytime i drink alcohol now. i projectile threw up for over 5+ hours. i could not even hold down water for this time. my face got really flushed and i started shaking (very very visibly) along with profusely sweating. my stomach starts squeeze like it's life depends on it, i was literally throwing up nothing but pure bile in the last few hours. its so bad that my throat gets swollen and scratchy so it's hard to even talk/swallow. My nose also just starts running like crazy and i get incredibly dizzy. im also just completely weak and for lack of better word "sick" for the next 24hrs after this.
my partner called the 24/7 nurse line and they told me it didn't sound like i needed to go in because as long as i was starting to tolerate water (which i was) I would be okay. the nurse line also said it didn't sound like alcohol poisoning (which ive had a few times) but definitely encouraged me to not drink EVER again. which i absolutely agree with, i barely drink now anyways so it wasnt a huge loss tbh im more of a tree guy now anyway ;) ;)
anyways, even though i am 100% not drinking again i am curious if anyone else has had these symptoms with alcohol. it is so strange as i said this developed when i was older but i was drinking WAY too young so im not sure if that plays a factor. thank you all so much for any insights !

I followed a vegetarian diet for about 4 years from ages 10-14. I was then on a cooked carnivore diet for about 10 months and slowly transitioned to a raw diet that I now have been on for 3 weeks. I am 16 now. I have a lot of severe things wrong with me:

1. My lower legs are full of eczema. They're extremely dry and have many red scabs that I can literally pick off.
2. My upper legs are extremely dry and have pretty bad ichthyosis (fish scales). I literally could sit there for hours picking off huge flakes of scaly, dry dead skin.
3. My upper arms/torso is full of peeling off scaly skin.
4. My scalp is dry, yet oily at the same time. Large pieces of dry flakes fall out just like on my upper torso.
5. My lower arms are fucked up. Ingrown hairs, random red bumps everywhere, extremely dry, some red eczema scabs, peeling off skin. Literally everything wrong everywhere else is on my lower arms.
6. The right side of my right hand has the worst eczema/psoriasis/skin rash that is extremely dry and itchy. It's gotten so bad it doesn't even look like a hand anymore.
7. The last ring of my fingertips's skin is not even there. It's so dry and cracked all over my fingertips.
8. Overall, extremely dry skin everywhere. I'd tell you other things wrong with my body but everything else gets ignored because my bad skin is far more prevalent. (gyno, lack of motivation, body odor, a persistent chalazion on my right eye, etc).

The majority of my issues went away in only about 1-2 months going cooked carnivore last summer 10 months ago but never fully went away. Then winter came around (I live in Illinois) and everything came back full fashion and it hasn't really healed much since.
I currently eat 80/20 raw ground beef (grain fed but fresh and never frozen), raw pasture raised eggs, raw milk (whole), and some bananas. Ground beef I usually eat around 1-1.4 pounds per day of with about 10-12 eggs. Raw milk I'm all over the place with but multiple glasses a day as it is my only source of hydration and I'm thirsty if I don't drink it (literally I'll have to buy a melon if I'm out because I need it for hydration). Bananas I usually only eat one a day with some milk as it tastes pretty good. Lately I somehow created a yogurt like consistency with one of my older raw milks and will eat my banana with that like yogurt (it's just soured raw milk that clumped up a bit). I understand some of my portions may be small but it's just my father and I and we aren't the wealthiest.
Fresh raw milk I notice does make my stomach upset but drinking soured, older raw milk is fine. Although fresh milk is fine as long as it eat it with some raw beef/eggs.
I pass gas throughout the day and randomly will get cramps in my stomach. I got some extreme and frequent diarrhea after a week on raw for about 4-5 days and have no clue where that came from. Ever since then i still will get cramps in my stomach.
I'm pretty fucked up overall and I need genuine advice. I am trying to find raw honey but it's not easy. Plus, I don't want to be told I need to incorporate all these different fancy things in order to get healed. If this diet really is the real deal, then it shouldn't be able to be failed. You can't make the same excuse as the vegans and say "you didn't do it correctly".
Please help.

I have sleep paralysis somewhat regularly, it comes and goes. I have noticed I tend to get it more often when I don’t have a lot of sleep for a couple days. I have seen different sleep paralysis “demons” how ever the hat man experience I had was probably the worst sleep paralysis I have ever had. Here is the story
At the time I was living by myself in somewhat rural Alaska in a small duplex. My place was sorta small it was about 1000 sq ft with 2 bed 1 bath. When you open the front door the living room opens up to your right, the kitchen then bathroom are to your left and the 2 rooms are straight back with the doors being on the back side of the living room. Both rooms were pretty small, one I used for storage and the other my bedroom. Since the room was small my queen sized bed only fit comfortably in one orientation with the front door to the home being in direct line of sight from my bed and vice versa. Normally I sleep with my door closed but this particular night I slept with it open because I was so tired and accidentally fell asleep when I got home from a long day of work. I remember waking up to a noise and immediately noticed I couldn’t move. Since I get sleep paralysis often I have gotten better about not freaking out and normally if I close my eyes and focus on quickly rolling my body or moving my arm or leg I can move myself out of it. So almost routine at this point I quickly get myself out of it and sit up and look out into my living room to see what the noise was. Right next to my front door is a big window, I leave the blinds closed but light goes through them fairly easily. On this night the moon was probably full and the moonlight was coming through the window pretty bright and I could see my living room and kitchen fairly good. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary and I figured the sound came from sleep paralysis because not only do I sometimes see things but I also sometimes hear things. I went back to sleep. I again awoke in sleep paralysis but this time my chest was a bit heavier and my heart was pounding. The anxiety was a little more frightening and I didn’t immediately do my routine to get out of the sleep paralysis and mistakenly started looking around. That’s when I saw the hat man. My front door was wide open and white moon light shining in. At the door way the completely black figure with the distinct hat stood staring at me. I was in a state of panic and shock, I couldn’t tell if it was real or not because normally the environment doesn’t change and this time my front door was clearly open. I have a pistol I keep for self defense and it was on my nightstand. I did my routine, rolled my body and quickly grabbed my pistol. I sat up and pointed my pistol at my front door but it was closed and everything was normal. At this point my anxiety was high and I was nervous to fall back asleep because I haven’t had such bad sleep paralysis in a while but I laid back down, went on my phone for a bit and decided to go back to sleep. The way my duplex is set up my neighbor is on the bottom unit and I’m on the top so you have to go up some stairs to get to my front door. There is a small one car garage but it belongs to my downstairs neighbor and was used for storage so I parked my truck in front of it and the stairs to my front door was to the right of the garage and my truck. Now the dream is foggy but for some reason I dreamed that I woke up again, gotten scared and went outside to get in my truck and fell back asleep. I woke up again in sleep paralysis but this time I was in the passenger seat of my truck. Again I didn’t follow my routine, my head was foggy, confused, and nervous. I started looking around not being able to move and having my heart have this indescribable heavy pit of anxiety. I looked at my front door open with the hat man standing there looking inside my house. I was at this point, in such a state of panic I wanted to start crying, the type of crying when you make those disgusting audible sobs and gasp for air in between each sob, but because I couldn’t still being in sleep paralysis and not being able to move or make sound all I could do is watch this hat man in horror. It would get worse, while being a completely pitch black figure I could see the hat man move and turn his body around. He was now looking at me, my anxiety was at an all time high and at this point everything felt so real and looked so real that I believed it was real. I watched him slowly walk down the steps and make his way to my truck. He walked up to the window and I looked directly at his pitch black figure staring at me through the tinted window of my truck. And for the first time I saw a sleep paralysis “demon” with a color other than pitch black when the hat man grinned from ear to ear with pearly white teeth. His smile looked like Chester cat’s smile from Alice in Wonderland. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this level of fear at any other point in my life, panicked, I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to roll out of the sleep paralysis. I could vividly feel the cold leather of my car seat on my skin but when I finally rolled out of my sleep paralysis I was in my bed. Safe to say I didn’t go back to sleep. That was my worst and most frightening sleep paralysis experience and (knock on wood) I haven’t experienced anything nearly as scary since.
That was when I was about to turn 20, I’m now about to turn 23 and I have made significant improvements to my sleep which in turn has caused me to experience way less sleep paralysis. That time still haunts me. The worst part was how real it felt I legit thought I was in my car I couldn’t tell the difference between reality and dream, everything felt so real. Sleep paralysis is the worst and none of my friends and family experience it, so when I talk about it they don’t seem to grasp how scary it is for me. I have had demons squeeze my throat to where I couldn’t breathe while their pitch black face stares at me. I’ve had people stand in my room and all I could do is watch hoping they aren’t real feeling so vulnerable from not being able to move. I’ve tried screaming at my partner to help as I watched them sleep next to me not being able to get the scream out and feeling so trapped and anxious. It really does suck and I’m sorry for all the other folks who have to deal with it. Feel free to share your worst sleep paralysis stories I’m curious as to what other people have experienced.