I'm thinking of a protolang mixing PIE with Proto-Taqva-miir.
PIE Consonants: m, n, p, b, bʰ, t, d, dʰ, kʲ, gʲ, gʲʰ, k, g, gʰ, kʷ, gʷ, gʷʰ, s, h1, h2, h3, r, l, j, w
Proto-Taqva-miir Consonants: m, n, ɲ, b, t, tʼ, d, c, cʼ, ɟ, k, kʼ, g, q, qʼ, ɢ, ʔ, s, z, ɕ, ʑ, ç, ʝ, x, ɣ, ħ, ʕ, h, r, l, ʎ, j, w
PIE Vowels: e, eː, o, oː(Though a, aː, i, iː, u, uː might've also existed with them.)
Proto-Taqva-miir Vowels: a, aː, i, iː, u, uː
For the consonants, I added the two amounts from each language, then divided by two, meaning that 29 consonants should be the amount for this protolang. Matching them, I could add whatever consonants from each set correspond the most neatly with whatever consonants from the other. PIE's syllable structure was (C)CVC(C), which allowed nasals and liquids in the nucleus alongside the vowels. PTM's structure was (C)V(R), meaning that only nasals and liquids, grouped as resonants, can end syllables and words. In terms of stress, PIE used a pitch accent, while PTM's stress system was the same as Finnish at first, with stress falling on the first syllable all the time, with the modern language's system being the same as Latin, meaning that stress falls on the third-to-last syllable by default, with the second-to-last one being stressed instead as long as it contains a long vowel or is closed.
For syntax, PIE word order is debated. Mixing the two hypotheses could lead to PIE having used a free word order still classified as strictly subject initial. PTM would utilize SOV as the word order, utilizing postpositions derived from verbs. PIE used prepositions, and adjectives before nouns, while PTM's adjectives are also derived from nouns. In terms of grammar, both PIE and PTM were going to share the same grammatical number system: singular, dual, and plural, though PTM, in the end, used singular and plural, which evolved into a singulative/dual/plural system with an inverse marker. I'm considering this mixture using an inverse marker alongside singular, dual, and plural markings.
Regarding the tense systems, PIE is said to have two tenses: past and present. It might've used an auxiliary as an indicator of the future tense. It also used three aspects: imperfective ("present"), perfective ("aorist"), and stative ("perfect"). There were also four moods, or five: indicative, subjunctive, optative, and imperative. An injunctive mood might've also been possible. PTM utilized an unmarked imperfective, a marked perfective via reduplication, and an infinitive. Reduplication plus the [i] vowel was used for the perfective converb, and an -in suffix was used for the imperfective converb, the -su suffix marking the infinitive. The standard copula, derived from "live", and the locative copula, derived from "stand", would be utilized to create a new tense system:

1. Imperfect + Standard Copula = Continuous
2. Perfect + Standard Copula = Past Continuous
3. Imperfect + Locative Copula = Future
4. Perfect + Locative Copula = Future in the Past

(A negative copula was also used.)
PIE only utilized one copula: h1es-. They might've also used others like the following: bʰuh₂-(maybe "grow" and "become"), h2wes-(maybe "live"), h1er-, and (s)teh2-("stand").
Regarding valency-changing operations, PIE is said only to use a causative, while PTM utilizes a mediopassive derived from "take/get" and a causative/commitative derived from "lead". At least that was the original plan. The modern form uses the following operations: detransitive, causative, reflexive, reciprocal, mediopassive (detransitive + Dative), and antipassive (detransitive + Genitive). And via morphology.
And speaking of morphology and synthesis, while Proto-Taqva-miir is somewhat agglutinative, the eventual modern language being fusional, PIE was fusional. At least I think so, though I need better clarity. PIE lacks a dominant order regarding comparatives(superlatives, sublatives, etc.). However, PTM utilized auxiliaries and later a morphological system to indicate everything: comparative, superlative, sublative, intensive, excessive, equative, and contrastive. Unfortunately, there is no paucative marking as far as I'm aware. I'd need to look at the other Conlang Case Study videos. Let me make a list, and I keep the following distinct and antonymous with augmentatives and diminutives, which relate to size descriptions of nouns unrelated to other nouns.
Comparative: ???
Superlative: highest degree
Sublative: lowest degree
Equative: equal value
Contrastive: different value
Intensive: stronger
Excessive: too much of something
???: weaker
Paucative: too few of something
What is supposed to go where the triple question marks are? I'd like to know. Here's a bonus question: Which of these have been reconstructed and are theorized to have existed in Proto-Indo-European?
I'm also thinking of looking into the question words of PIE, and seeing what I should do from there, as Biblaridion is thinking of auxiliary question words like "what+thing", "what+place", "what+person", etc. And I have ideas for the languages it could split into. It's for a hypothetical(either actual or fictional) D&D campaign.

Hello all. I am interested to see what other people’s experience has been- my son is on the spectrum (mild) and I thought the Montessori environment would be great for him. To give an accurate picture he is classroom appropriate- currently in a preschool to receive therapies (academic readiness, social emotional readiness ) and his current teacher says he would benefit from being in a preschool with some “neurotypical” children. I applied in late January for this upcoming year, and was told after current students re-enrolled, we would be called for an observation. I was also assured there were indeed spots for him, and they were comfortable with child on the spectrum. The head of school made a point to say that for younger classes there are typically wait lists, but the preschool availability was not usually an issue as long as I got my application in early (which I did, along with documentation of his autism assessment) The cutoff for re enrollment was April 1, and after some follow up calls, each time we call we are told we will get communication “in another few weeks”. Additionally I was also told in one of these follow up calls that there was “quite an influx” of applications, and a spot isn’t necessarily offered on a first come first serve basis. I am interested to hear what other parents with neurodivergent children have had with Montessori admissions. If he is not appropriate for their classroom it’s disappointing but I would understand -if they don’t think they can meet his needs then it’s not the place for him. I find it off putting that it appears they seem to be delaying a response though.

I am a black woman. I have been 19 for a little over a month now. I was raised in, and live in, an area with a very low black population.
My preference has changed a lot over time, which is something I’ve more recently started to think about.
The first crushes I remember having ever had, like when I was preschool-elementary school aged, were on Michael J Fox (when he was Marty in “Back to the Future,” may be more accurate to suggest that I had a crush on Marty mcfly,) and Michael Jackson (my parents had his music videos on DVD. I’ve never liked the way he looked in the 2000s, but I think when I was little I liked the way he looked in the 70s-90s. However, in sixth grade, I remember remarking that I thought 80s Michael Jackson was more attractive than 70s Michael Jackson when chatting with my former best friend, who had the opposite opinion.)
My parents have also always liked to tease about how I “dated” a white boy when I was three, claiming that I liked how blue his eyes were. What I find interesting now that I am an adult is that me liking blue eyes and blonde hair (the combination that I believe the kid I liked when I was three had, though it was much too long ago and I don’t remember how he looked or really anything about him at all,) is something that I’m not sure has entirely gone away.
I say this only because in 11th grade, I was already fascinated by/somewhat attracted to a boy I sat next to in Statistics because of his blue eyes and blonde hair, even though I hadn’t yet seen him without a mask (and when I did see him without a mask, I still liked his appearance. To me, he was a little above average.) There was also a mixed race (1/2 black 1/2 white) boy who was considered to be conventionally attractive by most of the grade who I was very attracted to in 12th grade (fawning over him in the halls kind of attracted, which is rare for me,) and he had both light skin and colored eyes (I no longer remember his eye color, though I’m certain it was blue or green.)
In 4th grade, I had a crush on a Filipino boy who I was no longer attracted to by high school (he was a nice person, though, which was partly why I’d liked him so much.) In 6th grade, I had a crush on a 1/2 white 1/2 Japanese boy (he didn’t look fully phenotypically Asian, but didn’t look “white” either. I don’t know what I thought he was. By the time we were in high school and I was perhaps more familiar with different phenotypes, I could see how he was mixed with Asian. But off the top of my head, he may have looked more similar to a Mexican/Latino person.) In 7th or 8th grade, I was either attracted to or had a crush on an Asian girl (she was not considered above average, she had apparently been teased about her looks in elementary school - she was at a healthy weight, at the time her look worked for me but at some point in high school I saw her again and she was subjectively unattractive to me.)
In 10th grade during quarantine, I started to crush on an older above average looking black man who had been kind to me in 9th grade (in this case, the attraction may have actually been reciprocated.) I also had a crush on an average looking white girl, was overweight (may have been a little below average, I don’t know. I also liked her in 10th grade. I was very lonely and depressed in 10th grade.)
I had a crush on David Bowie throughout all of middle school. I remember listening to his albums “Hunky Dory” alongside “Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars.” I loved Jareth from “Labyrinth.” (I was also a big fan of stranger things in middle school, and thought Finn Wolfhard was cute during the second season. I hadn’t really noticed Caleb McLaughlin and found him attractive until I became an adult.)
I will note that I was very attracted to Tim Curry’s Dr Frank N Furter maybe four-five months ago after seeing “rocky horror picture show” for the first time, even though I’m not really attracted to most white men anymore. It was just the energy he exuded.
I had my longest strongest crush on another light skinned mixed race (1/2 black 1/2 white) boy in high school, although he was a bad person. He was slightly above average physically, though he became average by 11th grade and I no longer liked him because he had criticized my appearance behind my back. He had dark brown eyes and I was very into him between 9th-10th grade (crush continued after online schooling had begun,) because I felt he was the only person who noticed my depression, and liked that he wasn’t dismissive of me yet (he later on sort of became dismissive of me after I messed up during a public discussion. I think he’d been curious about me because a friend of his told him I’d been known as smart in middle school.)
In 11th grade, I dated an overweight black boy who I had regarded as average (he was dark skinned. Some may subjectively regard him as a little below average due to the weight and racism, although I remember thinking he had a very common looking face, straight teeth.) I do regret the relationship, he was a bad person. But he was my first sexual experience and this is likely why I know now that if I have another sexual experience, I’d ideally like for it to be with a darker skinned black man (or a Mexican/Latino man, just someone who I suppose has darker skin than the average white man.) It’s strange because before 11th grade I didn’t tend to think sexually about men often, it used to be women but I haven’t felt attraction toward a woman in three years.
I know that I am not attracted to most white men, as someone who lives around a lot of them.
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This might be a long post but bear with me. Okay so we know iPad kids are a thing right, and I’ve kinda assumed that all the kids in my preschool class get mega screen time at home, but after doing parent teacher conferences this week, I found out that there are more parents who don’t allow their kids constant screen time than I originally thought! So that was a pleasant surprise, but it was really only like 4 out of 22 kids. The iPad kid phenomenon is almost an epidemic at this point, imo, and it does take a lot of space in my head on the daily. I was born in 1998, so I remember a time before smart phones and social media, but at the same time, those same two things also majorly shaped a huge portion of my self identity and brain development as I started using them in my early teens. I was so attached to my phone, always texting or scrolling or whatever, until I was probably 22. After a decade of constant screen time, I feel like something in my brain clicked and I woke up from the matrix or something because now I can barely stand to be on my phone. I didn’t have any hobbies outside of binging Netflix/youtube or scrolling through twitter. Nowadays I find so much joy in the process of learning a new hobby or skill, and it makes me sad to see such little kids glued to iPads. What makes me even sadder is when my kids at work pretend they have iPads or phones using regular toys or books. We truly don’t know the long term affects of iPad kids but I think psychologically and physically, they’re going to grow up into a completely different kind of person than the people who were born before iPads. I want to just open a discussion about this, what can we do? I work myself up because this is a systemic issue everyone is facing but I’m only one person and my impact can only do so much in the grand scheme of things. Sometimes I’m afraid to admit my feelings about technology because I seem like an old man with a tin hat yelling at the sky! I don’t think we should eliminate all social media/smart gadgets but there needs to be some moderation of some sort at LEAST.

Being a natural skeptic, this is a story I never thought I’d be telling. I grew up reading those short, half-edited horror stories that were so popular on the internet, scaring myself out of sleep too many times to count as a kid. These days, I’m still too scared to fall asleep, just like I was when I was 11 reading stories on boards I had no business browsing. This time, though, it isn’t typed words on my aging laptop that have my heart unable to beat calmly in my chest. It isn’t the long traded campfire story that has the hairs on my neck standing in unease.
It’s the envelope sitting on my desk, taunting me as I glance at it from across the room. The top torn open haphazardly, its contents situated neatly against the worn wood grain.
It’s the words that are typed so neatly along the page, bringing back every foul memory I can conjure.
“Thank you for donating.
Come back and see us again soon,
Mr. Weller.”
~
The sun hung lazily in the sky, casting a golden hue over the endless river of asphalt stretching out before me. This highway, flanked by gnarled mesquite trees and sporadic billboards advertising the next southern baptist church, had become somewhat of a familiar friend over the years. It was the unofficial gateway between my life at college and my small hometown nestled on the border of Texas and Louisiana.
I adjusted my review mirror, catching a glimpse of my own tired reflection. Summer break was finally here and I had high-tailed it from the campus as soon as my last final exam hit my professor’s desk. Gone was the grueling cycle of exams, papers, and endless nights spent hunched over textbooks. Whoever said that the college years were the best of their life needed to find the nearest sharp object to take a seat on.
As I drove, the familiar scenery slipping by in a soothing blur, my phone rang, jolting me from my thoughts. The screen flashed “Mom”, causing the involuntary roll of my eyes.
“Hey, Mom, I’m on the road. What’s up,” I spoke into the phone, trying to keep the exasperation out of my voice.
”Hi, sweetheart! How close are you to home?” Her voice was warm and overly sweet, exactly the tone she used when she was about to ask for an inconvenient favor.
“Probably a few hours out. Why?”
“Perfect! Listen, can you do me a favor and pick up a case of beer for your dad? He invited his friends over tonight and I don’t have time to run to the store with all the cooking-,” she explained quickly, probably sensing my sigh of annoyance before I could even take a breath.
”Mom,” I interrupted evenly, “you do realize there are, like, zero places to stop for miles, right? The last couple hours are practically deserted.”
“I know, but most gas stations always have the kind your dad likes. Just stop at the next one you see, okay?”
I groaned internally, glancing at my half full gas gauge. I had filled up the tank this morning specifically so I wouldn’t have to stop once on the drive.
“Fine, I’ll see what I can do.”
”You’re the best,” Mom sighed in relief, her tone calm again. “Drive safe, honey.”
With that, she hung up, leaving me to the rhythmic drone of the road and my dusty second hand CD’s once again.
I kept my eyes peeled for the next gas station, hoping to get the beer run out of the way sooner rather than later. About 20 minutes after Mom’s call, a rundown gas station came into view, its neon sky flickering erratically against the dusky sky. Like most gas stations in the middle-of-nowhere-south, it looked like it hadn’t seen a renovation since at least the 70’s.
Pulling in, I parked next to a rusted out pickup and stepped out, the heat and humidity immediately oppressive. The place reeked of old oil and dust, the air thick with the smell of mildew. I made my way inside, the crude “bell” over the door made of old fishing lures and soda caps jingling half-heartedly as I entered.
If I thought the outside of the joint was sad, the inside was plain pathetic. Dimly lit and cluttered with off brand snacks and outdated magazines, I wouldn’t be surprised if it hadn’t been stocked since at least the 70’s. I quickly located the cooler, grabbing a case of Keystone Light and headed to the counter. I tried not to breathe the air in too deeply, a little afraid of whatever strange diseases probably lingered.
The attendant behind the counter was a greasy, wiry man with sunken eyes and a gaunt face. He glanced up from his equally disheveled book, watching me approach with an intensity that made me uneasy. Placing the beer on the counter, I fished out my license, hoping to make this transaction as quick as possible. He eyed me while I pulled my wallet out, his voice reeking of prolonged cigarette and cheap whiskey.
“Headed to Texas?” he gruffed.
I nodded slowly, trying to piece together how he knew. I was still at least an hour and a half from the border. “Yeah, lucky guess.” I chuckled uneasily.
”Not lucky at all,” he drawled out, “Saw yer license plate.”
I turned towards the glass door, seeing the direct line to my car.
“Ah,” I responded, not quite sure what else to add as I put down my drivers license next to the case of beer.
Is this how social interactions at gas stations are supposed to go?
The greasy man picked up my license, his gaze lingering on it a bit too long as he rang the beer up without glancing at the register.
“You’re an organ donor,” he remarked, casual, as if it were something he asked every day.
Nope. Definitely not a normal interaction.
”Uh, yeah. Just in case, I guess.”
He handed back the license and I fought the urge to wipe whatever strange grime he accumulated on his hands off my card.
“Makes you a good person,” he nodded, offering me a rotted grin.
I forced a smile, increasingly eager to get the hell out of this place. “How much?”
”Fifteen seventy three.” He replied, his accent catching over the vowels.
I handed over two wrinkled 10s, wondering if I should tell him to keep the change so I wouldn’t have to handle anything else he touched. Before I could decide, the man spoke again, peering back at the door.
”Yer headed the wrong way if yer trynna get to Texas. Should take the next left up ahead.”
I frowned, unable to keep up my polite mask much longer. “The road’s straight the whole way,” I argued, “I’ve driven it a hundred times.”
The grimy mess of a man simply smiled, a thin, almost predatory smile.
“Only bein polite. Suit yerself”
I took my change and beer, muttering a quick thanks before bolting it out of there. The encounter left an uncomfortable feeling in my chest, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of those piercing eyes on my back as I walked to my car.
Last time I do a favor for mom, I thought dramatically.
Once inside the safety of my car, I locked the doors and started the engine, eager to put distance between myself and that disgusting gas station. The man’s words and shit-eating grin echoed in my mind, but I dismissed them. The road home was straight, I knew that much for certain.
As the miles ticked by, I found myself turning the music up louder and louder, trying to shake off the unease from the encounter. I tried focusing on the familiar landmarks and the lyrics of the songs I’d heard a thousand times. Thankfully, it only took a few songs for it to work.
The sun began to dip lower into the sky, casting long shadows that stretched across the road. I figured I was about an hour from home at this point, my mind itching to be home.
It took me longer than I’d like to admit to see that something was seemingly… wrong.
When I glanced to the side, expecting fields of unkempt brush and patches of cactus, instead I saw short, twisted trees. My eyebrows furrowed, trying to make sense of the misplaced flora. I let off the gas slightly, slowing down the car to take in the patches of damp, soggy earth peppering the fields. I looked behind me, my brain desperate to rationalize the sudden change of environment. I gripped the steering wheel tighter, a knot of anxiety forming in my stomach.
This wasn’t right. I had driven this route countless times and the scenery had never changed so drastically. How in the world had I driven myself into a bog?
The road, usually straightforward and predictable, now seemed to wind and twist as my car crept along it, each bend revealing more of the eerie, waterlogged terrain. Doubts crept in, swift and harsh. Had I missed a turn? Was that psycho right after all?
The feeling of unease grew stronger with each passing mile. The familiar landmarks were gone, replaced by dense foliage and the occasional decrepit and rotted building. I glanced at my phone, picking it up in hopes of checking my GPS, but my heart sank when I saw the “no service” icon in the corner.
Panic began to set in, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. I needed to find a way back to the main road, or at least to a road sign.
Just as the sense of dread threatened to overwhelm me, I spotted a building up ahead, its bright lights cutting through the encroaching darkness of dusk. Relief flooded through me. Whatever this place is, surely someone in there can tell me where I got turned around.
However, the sight before me only had my eyebrows furrowing deeper. A clean, well-lit, white building stood amidst the desolate landscape, almost cartoonishly out of place. It looked brand new, too pristine for its surroundings. Like a beacon of hope in a sea of… muck.
Desperation overrode my hesitancy of such a place, fueling my decision to pull over. I parked my car in the well-paved lot, comforted by the other vehicles sitting under the bright lights.
I made my way to the entrance, the glass doors sliding open smoothly as I approached. The stark white walls and sterile smell hit me immediately, a stark contrast to the humid smell of wood rot outside.
Is this some sort of clinic?
I paused as I looked around, my eyes landing on a front desk. A cheery looking woman with a bright smile sat behind it, her eyes already on me.
”Good evening! Are you here to donate?” she called out, her voice light and airy.
I turned back to the door for a moment, my instincts not quite thrilled being in such a strange place, but the idea of trying to get myself un- lost in the dark pushed me further towards the front desk.
”Uh, no. I’m actually lost,” I responded, giving the woman a weak smile. “I’m trying to get to Texas and I think I may have taken a wrong turn. Can you point me in the right direction?”
Her smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes. Disappointment? Annoyance? It was hard to tell.
”Of course, sugar. But why don’t you take a seat first?”
I glanced around to what I now assumed was a waiting room. The occupants were an odd assortment of characters, each making me more uneasy than the last. An elderly man in disheveled clothes sat closest, muttering to himself while looking straight through me.
A few seats down sat a young woman with stringy hair, as if she had just gotten out of the shower. Her eyes looked red and puffy and I could only assume she either was terribly allergic to bogs, or she had been crying for a while.
Next, a man with a little girl sitting beside him caught my attention. The girl clutched a small stuffed bunny, her eyes regarding me curiously. She seemed to be the only person aware of my existence and I threw a small smile her way. Her eyes shifted immediately, darting nervously back to the man beside her. The man had no reaction, continuing to stare straight ahead with a vacant expression.
Lastly, a businessman sat in the corner, his wrinkled suit and messy hair contradicting his aloof demeanor. He held a phone to his ear, checking his watch intermittently. The whole scene of the room reeked of impatience and unease, making my skin crawl.
What the hell is this place?
I turned back to the front desk, forcing a smile. “Listen, ma’am. I’m really just looking for directions. I don’t need an appointment.”
The woman tilted her head slightly, her smile never wavering. “Mr. Weller can see you for a donation. It won’t take long.”
“I really don’t have time for that. I just need to get back on the road,” I insisted, the edge of desperation beginning to creep into my voice.
She ignored my plea, typing something into the computer. “Mr. Weller will be with you shortly. Please, take a seat.”
Frustration boiled over. I was about to argue further when I noticed the other patients had started to stare, their gazes heavy and expectant. The atmosphere in the room shifted to feel charged, almost oppressive.
Deciding I had seen quite enough, I muttered quickly. ”Thanks, but I’m going to pass,” and turned on my heel, making a beeline for the exit.
The nurse’s cheerful farewell followed me out, a stark contrast to the chill that had settled in my bones.
I hurried back to my car, the clinic’s lights painting long shadows across the parking lot. Sliding into the driver’s seat, I locked the doors and took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. The “clinic” had rattled me more than I cared to admit.
As I started the engine and pulled back onto the road, the clinic quickly disappeared from view, swallowed by the hungry night. My mind raced, grappling with the bizarre turn of events. The woman at the front desk’s insistence, the strange people in the waiting room, and the clinic itself…
none of it made sense.
Determined to put this fever dream behind me and find my way home, I refocused on the road ahead, hoping that with a bit of luck, I could retrace my steps and escape this unsettling detour. The landscape grew darker, the swamp closing in around me, but I pressed on, clinging to the desperate hope that familiar sights were just around the next bend.
The feeling of unease clung to me like an unwanted second skin as I drove further on, minutes passing with no change. Eventually, at least an hour passed, the monotony of the road broken only by the occasional curve and the distant croaking of frogs. I had long since shut off my radio, seeing as no amount of Lynyrd Skynyrd could make the situation better.
My eyes strained against the darkness, searching for any road signs or landmarks.
Yet as time wore on, familiar trees passing by, an alarming realization began to settle in.
Despite making no turns. Despite the road seemingly taking me far away,
I was back where I started.
Bright lights pierced the gloom ahead, the parking lot coming into view mocking my attempt to leave. My heart sank, a cold wave of dread washing over me the closer I got.
I was back at the clinic.

Hi everyone,

I'm a mom with a very active preschooler, and I'm struggling with what I suspect might be plantar fasciitis. I wanted to get some advice and see if anyone else has experienced something similar. Here's what's going on:

• Slight pain in the morning: I feel slight heel pain in my feet when I first get up, but it becomes tolerable after a few steps. I often walk barefoot at home, but now using slides due to the pain.
• Heel pain with long-distance walking: The heel pain started when I began walking longer distances for fitness. I used walk 2-2.5 miles every other day. I wore Adidas Supernova 3s for these walks and Birkenstock Arizona sandals for everyday use. The pain progressed gradually, it started with very slight discomfort on the edges of my heel. It got worse and now I've been hobbling most days. Recently, I've needed shoes with arch support to make walking tolerable.
• Left foot is significantly more painful than the right. So that makes my walking gait uneven too.
• Soreness and Exhaustion: After a few thousand steps, my heels and legs feel terribly sore. I usually feel exhausted and I would always need sitting breaks. My feet don't look inflamed, but they do feel sore.
• Frequent knee pain: I also experience frequent knee pain when walking long distances.

I know I need to see a doctor, and I plan to do that in a few days, if I get lucky and find someone available in my area. I'm devastated by my severely reduced mobility, especially since I have a young, active child to keep up with. Will I ever feel better again? If it helps, I'm about 15 lbs overweight, of Asian descent, and 40 years old.
I also have a trip in less than two weeks that will require lots of walking, and I'm terrified I might not manage with a kid in tow. I am aware that healing and recovery might take a while, so I plan to numb myself with pain meds during the trip.
Here are some things I've tried, but I haven't been consistent because I wasn't sure if they were helping:

• Theragun
• Foot massage with a masseuse (just once)
• Tennis ball
• Heel raises
• Toe separator

Has anyone else dealt with similar symptoms? Could this be plantar fasciitis? Any advice, similar experiences, or suggestions would be greatly appreciated. Thank you so much!

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Discord: jperez
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Hola, ¿qué tal? My name is Jhon Pérez, a native Spanish tutor with over 10 years of experience in Spanish homework. I can help you with any type of Spanish assignments: exams, quizzes, tests, worksheets and essays.
I've done many accounts on VHL Central, McGraw Hill, Blackboard, Canvas, MyLabs, Cengage, Desire2Learn, ELEteca, Edgenuity, Contraseña, WileyPlus and more.
Besides being a native Spanish speaker, I have knowledge of vocabulary, functional grammar and the functions of all levels of Spanish (Beginners A1-A2, Intermediate B1-B2 and Advanced C1-C2.)
I can work with login, TeamViewer and screenshots. If you choose the latter I will make sure to be online at the agreed time to work with you (you send the screenshots and I send the answers.)
This is not an agency. It's just me, the Spanish tutor, so you don't have to pay double fees (one to the agency owner and another to the tutor.)
Unlike other Spanish tutors, I will provide you with safe, untraceable VPN connection to your closest location and follow your instruction(s) to deliver plagiarism-free Spanish papers.
For tight deadlines I can deliver the same day as long as I am contacted at least 4 hours before deadline.
My rates are pocket-friendly and flexible to fit your budget. You can use milestone payments or pay as you go.
Proof and vouches can be seen on my profile.
Send your prompt and get a quote today!
Email: [jperezonline@outlook.com](mailto:jperezonline@outlook.com)
Discord: jperez
¡Nos vemos!

1. Fascinating Animal Kingdom Facts:

• Some frogs can freeze solid during winter and thaw out in spring, continuing their lives.
  
• Anteaters have no teeth and consume up to 30,000 insects a day with their long tongues.
  
• Male penguins propose to their lifelong mates by giving them a pebble.
  

1. Unusual Historical Nuggets:

• The oldest known "your mom" joke was discovered on a 3,500-year-old Babylonian tablet.
  
• Ancient Romans used urine as a teeth-whitening agent due to its ammonia content.
  
• The Boston Tea Party, often seen as a rebellion against high taxes, was more a protest against a tax cut.
  

1. Science and Technology Oddities:

• A single strand of human hair can support up to 100 grams in weight.
  
• The world's first computer programmer was Ada Lovelace, who worked on Charles Babbage's Analytical Engine in the mid-1800s.
  
• There are more possible iterations of a game of chess than there are atoms in the known universe.
  

1. Language and Linguistic Quirks:

• The word "set" has the highest number of different meanings in the English language.
  
• The longest word in the English language without a vowel is "rhythms."
  
• The word "facetious" contains all the vowels in alphabetical order.
  

1. Geographical and Cultural Tidbits:

• The country of Monaco is smaller than New York City's Central Park.
  
• There are more public libraries in the U.S. than McDonald's restaurants.
  
• Mount Everest is not the tallest mountain on Earth when measured from base to peak; Mauna Kea in Hawaii holds that record.
  

1. Human Achievements and Records:

• The longest duration spinning a Guinness World Records book on one finger is 4 hours and 25 minutes.
  
• The record for the most push-ups in one hour is 2,806.
  
• The world record for the longest handshake is 42 hours.
  

1. Food and Culinary Marvels:

• The first product to have a barcode scanned for purchase was Wrigley's Juicy Fruit chewing gum.
  
• The world's most expensive burger costs $5,000 and contains gold leaf, caviar, and truffles.
  
  • The world's largest chocolate bar weighed over 12,770 pounds.

1. Entertainment and Pop Culture Trivia:

• The first movie ever made was the 1895 film "Roundhay Garden Scene," lasting about 2.11 seconds.
  
• The world's most-watched television event is the Super Bowl.
  
• The shortest film ever nominated for an Oscar is "Fresh Guacamole," which runs for 1 minute and 40 seconds.
  

1. Legal Quirks and Odd Laws:

• In Switzerland, it's illegal to flush the toilet after 10 PM in an apartment building.
  
• In Canada, it's illegal to use comic sans in official government documents.
  
• In France, it's illegal to name a pig Napoleon.
  

1. Miscellaneous Intriguing Facts:

- Honey never spoils; archaeologists have found edible honey in ancient Egyptian tombs. - Human bones are ounce for ounce four times stronger than concrete. - A small child could swim through the veins of a blue whale. 

1. Fascinating Animal Kingdom Facts:

• Dolphins have names for one another and respond when called by their specific names.
  
• Female hyenas have pseudo-penises that are almost indistinguishable from male genitalia.
  
• Cows have best friends and get stressed when they're separated.
  

1. Unusual Historical Nuggets:

• The Great Wall of China was not built in one continuous construction phase but was constructed over several dynasties.
  
• Ancient Romans used urine as a mouthwash due to its ammonia content.
  
• The oldest known recipe is a 5,000-year-old Sumerian beer recipe.
  

1. Science and Technology Oddities:

• A nanosecond is one billionth of a second.
  
• The human eye can distinguish up to 10 million different colors.
  
• The Eiffel Tower can be 15 cm taller during the summer due to thermal expansion.
  

1. Language and Linguistic Quirks:

• The word "hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia" means the fear of long words.
  
• The sentence "The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog" is a pangram, containing every letter of the alphabet.
  
• The word "facetious" contains all the vowels in alphabetical order.
  

1. Geographical and Cultural Tidbits:

• The Dead Sea is so salty that people can easily float on its surface.
  
• Russia has a larger surface area than Pluto.
  
• The Amazon Rainforest produces half the world's oxygen supply.
  

1. Human Achievements and Records :
   • The longest time spent in hula hoop spinning is 74 hours and 54 minutes.

• The record for the most pull-ups in 24 hours is 7,306.
  
• The largest gathering of people dressed as Smurfs had 2,762 participants in Ireland.
  

1. Food and Culinary Marvels:

• Honey never spoils; archaeologists have found edible honey in ancient Egyptian tombs.
  
• The world's most expensive coffee, Kopi Luwak, is made from beans digested and excreted by a civet.
  
• Peanuts are not nuts; they are legumes.
  

1. Entertainment and Pop Culture Trivia:

• The shortest song to ever make it to the Billboard Hot 100 is "PPAP
  (Pen-Pineapple-Apple-Pen)," which is only 45 seconds long.
  
• The first music video aired on MTV was "Video Killed the Radio Star" by The Buggles.
  
• Actor Tommy Lee Jones was roommates with former US Vice President Al Gore in college.
  

1. Legal Quirks and Odd Laws:

• In Switzerland, it's illegal to mow your lawn on a Sunday.
  
• In France, it's illegal to name a pig Napoleon.
  
• In Denmark, drivers are required to check under their car for sleeping children before starting the engine.
  

1. Miscellaneous Intriguing Facts:

- The longest recorded flight of a chicken is 13 seconds. - The first oranges were not orange; they were green. - Octopuses have three hearts. 

I know people have done a lot of analysis on the vocals of TMS but in my opinion as someone who lives in the UK, the way the singer pronounces certain words definitely has a British accent - most notably, the first syllable of "consequence" is pronounced ˈkɒn (short o) isntead of ˈkɑn (long o), or "tomorrow" being more similar to təˈmɒrəʊ (UK) than of təˈmɑˌroʊ (US).
It's worth noting that a lot of Europeans who speak English as a second language do end up having a UK accent because many teachers (especially in the 80's) were more likely to be British than American. A lot of UK singers do sometime stretch out vowels when they sing and therefore sound less British but imo the vocals of TMS definitely sound like a British accent to me.

I know that FOOT vowel generally has two sources in inhereted words in English. One group of word (spelled with either o, u and ou in those words that underwent trisyllabic laxing), split off from the words that have the STRUT vowel (or rather, the words that nowadays have the STRUT vowel drifted from the original pronunciation, but a few words didn't drift). The other words, (spelled with oo) are words where the long vowel underwent shortening. But I don't really understand how should and would fit into this (and to a lesser extend could). Both these words ended if I am correct in -old in Middle English) the spelling suggests that at some point they were pronounced with the same vowel as in house, before the vowel changed into the FOOT vowel. However, both would be very irregular. The spelling of could is influenced by would and should, but still I am not sure how the vowel suggested by the ou in the middle English form became the the FOOT vowel.
I know it is probably an irregular orthography, but I cannot find anything about it. It is very hard to google, as these three words are very common in English.

I’m creating an Austronesian conlang and languages from this family tend to have infixes. However I didn’t want to make three syllables long words for basic activities, so I decided to make conjugation based on vowel alternation (or rather syllable ending alternation). Here is an example how it works:
To wish - sara - sura - sivra - sevra - savra
To see - kita - kanta - kinta - kjenta - kjanta
To sleep - tidu - tandi - tindi - tjendi - tjandi
You can see that the only thing which changes is the syllable ending and every other letter remains as it was. (in my conlang syllable can end only with vowel or j /j/, n /ŋ/, v /w/).
First word belongs to the first conjugation which uses „a” as a changeable vowel, but second and third one uses „i” because first consonant is soft. First form is infinitive, second is present active, third is past active, fourth is present passive and fifth is past passive.
And that’s a very good solution for me, because there is still the same amount of syllables and if I make some verbs irregular it will sound more natural.
But there is one problem. When I want to turn a noun into a verb, conjugation won’t work, because nouns aren’t made like verbs, so fist vowel in the noun can be something different from „a” or „i” and it would be too complicated and hard to make special conjugation for every ending (there are 16)
I thought about changing first vowel in noun to „a” or „i” in order to change it to verb, but if I would have three nouns (tari, teri, turi), they would have the same verb form which is very confusing.
Only root is conjugated, so in word bekita (to show) be will remain as it is, but kita will change normally.
Please advice me a good solution for this problem. Thank you for your answers.

This is a throwaway because I have another active Reddit account and I'm not sure how real and personal I want to get on it!
My daughter got medically diagnosed with ADHD at age 7 and later got a school-based evaluation for ASD that found that she was eligible for an educational ASD diagnosis at age 8, almost 9, last month.
I have known something was different about her since she was about 5, but her teachers at school dismissed the possibility of any diagnosis until this school year. They just blew my concerns off.
A speech therapist who was working with her for articulation issues at school was the first to bring up the possibility of autism when she was 7, and I just didn't see it at the time. At her ADHD evaluation at a psychologist's office, I asked them to tell me if they saw any red flags for autism, and they didn't see any, either, in the few hours they spent with her. It wasn't until I brought up the speech therapist's concern to her 3rd grade teacher this school year that the school finally did a full evaluation that included lots of time spent with her and a multidisciplinary team and they diagnosed her autistic. It was very thorough and they even did the ADOS, so I'm pretty confident in their assessment.
So anyway, when the one speech therapist first brought up autism, we were trying to conceive a new baby. When daughter got diagnosed ADHD, I was already pregnant with her baby brother. Baby brother was 9 months old at the time of her ASD diagnosis and is now 10 months old.
Now that we know daughter is autistic, I can't stop obsessing about looking for signs of ASD in our son, and it's making me so miserable!
As you might have guessed from our daughter not getting diagnosed until almost age 9, she didn't really have the typical presentation. She's always had some sensory issues (stuff like picky eating, doesn't like hair brushing, doesn't like clipping her nails), but she met all of her developmental milestones as a young child and she is academically advanced. As her mom, I suspected she had ADHD for a long time because of impulsivity and hyperfocus, but her basic skills/milestones were good. I really didn't see a true delay in skills until around 2nd grade, when I started to see her interacting with other girls her age and realized that she was much more rigid, much more emotional, seemed more immature, and didn't notice a lot of social cues. Her delays are pretty much all social, including things like being flexible, compromising, picking up on social cues from others, etc. She's always been very outgoing and socially motivated, but she just struggles with actual social skills and how to make/keep friends now that social situations are more complex.
Now that we know she is autistic, I can't stop looking for signs in her baby brother and obsessing about it, even though I know he is too young to diagnose and it's too young to reliably tell. It's also so hard to remember what age my daughter did things and what all she did as an infant because of the big age gap.
I am also an occupational therapist (I wasn't one when my daughter was born, but went to grad school to become one while she was a toddlepreschooler), and knowing so many autistic kids at work just makes it worse because I just know so many signs to look out for!
So far, baby brother has amazing gross motor skills, much better than our daughter's were. He's 10 months old and was born 3 full weeks early and is already beginning to stand unsupported and is trying so hard to walk. He crawls extremely fast and is constantly pulling up, cruising, and trying to stand (can balance standing for a few seconds at a time) and is very strong with good balance. His fine motor skills seem on track. I was worried about his speech for a bit, but then realized that our daughter was actually a bit of an EARLY talker (which makes sense because she is gifted in verbal skills and reading). Baby looks at our lips closely and copies noises we make sometimes, and I think he can actually say a word. (Unfortunately, the word is "poop"!) He seems to be trying to say several words.
There are a couple of things I am worried about as far as his social skills, though. He can point at things in a book when we are reading, but I haven't really seen him point to anything far away (although he sometimes follows our point with his eyes if we point at something to show him). He can and does clap, but usually does it just whenever he wants to and doesn't really copy us if we try to get him to clap. He doesn't really reach his arms up to be picked up most of the time, although he does sometimes crawl over to us and pull up on our legs to be picked up. I have started trying to encourage him to hold his arms up by holding my arms down to him and waiting for him to reach up to me before I pick him up and then praising him, and that seems to be working a bit. He does respond to his name, but not always. Sometimes if he is focused on something else (especially if the TV is on or if he's playing with a really preferred toy), he doesn't look when we call him. He always smiles sweetly when he makes eye contact with us, and he is comforted by being held when he's upset or tired, but I do feel like he doesn't necessarily look at us all the time. He kind of plays on the floor or cruising around furniture independently a lot. He does love peekaboo and loves sitting and listening to books. He is only 10 months, and some of the skills I am worrying about might not develop until closer to 12 months.
He doesn't really seem to show sensory sensitivities, but I have noticed that he makes a whiny/moan noise a lot throughout the day (although that mostly seems to be when he is bored or discontented for some reason). He also seems to like rubbing his forehead on things sometimes, but not all the time, just occasionally. Anything else he does that could be a stim seems like typical baby playing stuff (like hitting 2 toys together, playing with beads on his activity center, etc).
I think what is making things so hard is the uncertainty. With our daughter at that age, I wasn't even really thinking about autism beyond just the little surveys they gave you at the doctor's office, which she "passed." We didn't really see the signs until she was already a pretty independent, verbal child.
I guess my fear with her brother is that he will end up having ASD with higher support needs than her and it will be really tough.
As someone who works with autistic kids, I know that most families with autism only have one autistic kid and their other kids are neurotypical, but I also know some families where they have multiple kids with special needs.
I guess my questions are...
1) Any life advice for how to stop obsessing? We will love our son no matter what, of course, and I think it is somewhat just anxiety on my part at this point (as I do have an anxiety disorder), but I'm having a hard time letting go of it.
2) Does anyone have an older child with ASD and a younger child/younger children without it? Or else what has your family situation been with your oldest child diagnosed ASD?
3) What signs did you see in your kids as a baby? It's funny, I didn't think our daughter had any signs, but I recently watched some videos of her as a baby and saw that when she was dancing in her playpen to music, she was stimming by shaking her head back and forth really fast! It was so cute. 😂 But makes me feel dumb that I didn't see it for what it was.
Sorry for the novel...

I am not the OOP. The OOP is u/SRBias posting in relationship_advice
Ongoing as per OOP
1 update - Long
Original - 10th May 2024
Update - 13th May 2024
​
I (50 M) just learned my spouse (47 F) was unfaithful years ago in marriage. She came clean from guilt. Where do I go from here?
​
This will be quite a lengthy read because I'm laying out everything to get honest opinions with all the context. There's a TLDR at the end for those who'd rather skip the backstory. I know that most people go incognito with a throwaway account for this kind of post. But I wanted this to be authentic, using my real account. I didn't want anyone to think this was disingenuous. If we know each other in real life or you find me on my other socials, let's keep our chats here or in PMs. I don't want anyone harassing anybody, and I have a sixteen-year-old daughter who has been spared this drama so far.
I tied the knot shortly after high school, and let's just say, if my marriage were a collegiate course, it would be "F*** Up - 101." It was a masterclass in what not to do, featuring every red flag in the book. I was fresh-faced and barely off on my life journey, thinking I'd hit the jackpot. I'd assumed I'd accomplished what my parents did, that being the poster couple for marital bliss. I was so naive, always giving the benefit of the doubt. Meanwhile, my then-wife, fresh from escaping her parental fortress of solitude, went bat s*** crazy, deciding that 'living life to the fullest' didn't include me in the picture.
Before I knew it, I was Mr. Mom with our toddler while she was trapped underneath a few individuals, making up for lost time. After finally catching her in the act, I filed for a divorce and braced for the impact. Divorcing in '97 in the heart of the bible belt was not favorable towards the husband back then. What followed was straight out of a horror movie. I paid my attorney five thousand dollars to watch her take everything from my guitars and video games. She even claimed keepsakes from a departed relative, and the judge seemed happy to grant her every wish. Not only did I bid farewell to everything I owned, but my time with my son got slashed to a mere Wednesday afternoon and alternating weekends.
My faith in women was broken. I went on a few dates here and there but mostly kept it to casual encounters and dinners. I never let anyone get too close. But, in early 1999, at a friend's birthday party, I met a woman whose marriage had crashed harder than mine. She'd had a stillbirth six months into her pregnancy, and her husband dared to bring his girlfriend to the funeral. She was heartbroken, to say the least, to learn about her husband's affair and the end of her marriage on the day they laid her daughter to rest. We sat on a couch that night, swapping tales of romantic ruin. She was clever, and to me, that is an instant connection. It's rare for me to find someone who makes me laugh instead of vice versa. As I headed home, I couldn't shake her from my thoughts, kicking myself for not asking for her number.
The next, my phone rang, and it was her! She'd gotten my phone number from someone we both knew and asked: "Would you like to get food sometime?" I said, "Now sounds great!" So, I drove to her grandmother's house, and off we went on what turned out to be what I still consider the perfect date. Now, I get it; we were both lonely and had our hearts broken, but trust me, this was no spark; it was an inferno. And believe it or not, we've been inseparable since that day. We have not spent a night apart. That was twenty-five years ago, with us marrying a year after our meeting. Go ahead and facepalm, I know how it sounds, but it's hard to put the connection between us into words. Even I'm still shaking my head in disbelief.
Our families adored the two of us together. I was certain I had found my soulmate, if you believe in that, and I was certain she felt the same. We enjoyed each other's company, and our lives meshed perfectly. As with life, however, it finds those moments of bliss to take a giant s*** on you. In 2006, I began feeling ill; eating resulted in violent illness, which I initially thought was a virus. But after a week with no improvement, it was clear this was something else. I was admitted to the local hospital and underwent numerous tests. When I was first admitted, I weighed 222 pounds at a height of 6'2". Within a year, I had dropped to 146 pounds, and my condition dumbfounded the doctors. My health was deteriorating rapidly. Throughout the ordeal, she never left my side, her hand in mine, begging me not to leave her.
In late 2007, a last-ditch effort sent me to the Cleveland Clinic, where a young doctor rushed me into surgery. When I awoke three hours later, she was there, hand in mine, with a smile. It was a success; I was cured. While I'll spare you the details, it involved my colon. Finally, I could eat and move without agony. My life resumed, and we were happy again. The following year, she received a lucrative job offer in her field, earning more than I did. That didn't bother me at all; she worked hard, and she'd earned it.
After her miscarriage, my wife was unable to conceive. We had been trying since 2000 and eventually came to terms with the fact that it might not happen. In 2010, we got a call from the state of Minnesota about a two-year-old girl who had been taken from her mother due to drug-related charges. They asked if we would consider adopting her because the mother had requested she be placed with family members before her parental rights were terminated. My wife and I drove for 30 hours to meet her, and after a few months, we adopted her and welcomed her into our home.
Our daughter faced social challenges and had endured abuse, leading the two of us to decide one of us needed to be at home with her. As mentioned, my wife earned significantly more, so it made sense for me to be the one to step into the role. I dedicated each day to supporting our daughter's mental health. While I played a part, I can't claim all the credit for this; her preschool, kindergarten, and therapist were instrumental in her learning to socialize and trust again. Eventually, I took up freelance journalism, so I was home when our little one finished her school day.
Our evenings were family time, and we took small trips on weekends. It was in 2017 that my wife returned from work one evening, deeply shaken by what she told me was a workplace argument. Despite my attempts to console her, she remained incorrigible. She was declaring her intent to find a new job. She'd never had any issues before, so I was stunned. For days, she was a mess and withdrawn. When I pressed for details, she'd say, "It would only upset you. Let me deal with it."
True to her word, she left for a new company within a week, accepting a 15 percent reduction in pay. I should have questioned it then, but she never gave me cause for concern. Once she began her new role, life returned to normal, and our family happily moved forward. In 2022, I published my first novel with an independent publisher, fulfilling a lifelong dream. I could sense the pride emanating from both my wife and daughter. I had achieved this milestone before my fiftieth birthday, and I couldn't wait to start on my second one.
And now, ladies and gentlemen, this is where my world breaks. In 2023, as I was finishing up my new novel, my twenty-seven-year-old son from my first marriage died suddenly of a heart attack. He had an underlying condition that none of us knew about. I want everyone to understand that when you say, "I couldn't imagine my child dying," you truly can't. There is no pain quite like it. My wife and daughter, who also felt his loss deeply, did their best to support me. But there is no way to deal with such a tragedy. In the months following his death, I immersed myself in my work, striving to complete my second book for him.
On the day I finished it in January, my father passed away after a long battle. Dad had been ill for a long time. You think you can prepare yourself for that, but that's a lie you tell yourself. The loss was hard, and my daughter was instrumental in getting me back on my feet. My second book was released in February, and I tried to smile as I had my release party. At the beginning of April, I started feeling better, writing outlines for my third novel and doing the same things I'd always done with my wife and daughter.
My wife and I have a Wednesday tradition where she picks a random recipe she finds online, and we cook it together. On April 3rd, while making crockpot chicken tacos, I thanked her for everything. She asked why, and I thanked her for everything she'd done to get me through the tough times. I shared a lot of pent-up emotions, telling her I couldn't have managed without her. She started crying, then weeping, and soon she was sobbing uncontrollably. I tried to comfort her with a hug, but she pushed me away. I apologized, not realizing my words would stir such a reaction.
Suddenly, she confesses her infidelity. I laughed, mistaking it for a joke. She grabs my shoulders and then details how, back in 2017, a 28-year-old at her former job started flirting with her, and she reciprocated. She believed it was innocent, yet it persisted. My wife has always feared growing old. Her birthdays were days she dreaded every year. She admitted that the attention from a younger man was exhilarating. She told me that turning 40 had sent her into a tailspin and that she couldn't talk to me about it because I would have just shrugged it off.
He invited her to leave work early and come to his place one day. She couldn't understand why she chose to; maybe it was the thrill. She said she didn't know, but she went and ended up sleeping with him. Afterward, she felt terrible, glaring at her keychain in his driveway because it had a photo of me holding our daughter. She drove home, and that's when she lied about having a workplace argument. She never wanted to return there. It's why she suddenly went somewhere else. She then told me she wanted to tell me but didn't have the fortitude to do it.
I remained silent, just wide-eyed and open-mouthed. She apologized, saying she couldn't live with it any longer. I just shook my head, unable to speak a single word. She offered to leave if that's what I wanted, to attend counseling, or even to beg for my forgiveness. Instead, I picked up my AirPods and phone and walked out. I wandered from six in the evening until almost eleven that night. When I returned, she was on the loveseat, asking if I was ready to talk. I shook my head again, went to my office, where I had a couch, and slept there.
The next day, after our daughter left for school, she asked if I had anything to say. I said yes. I questioned why she brought this up after the worst year of my life. Why couldn't she have kept it to herself until I could somewhat deal with something of this magnitude? She just looked away. I scoffed and told her to go to work and to try not to f*** anyone during her lunch break. That would have been April 4th; those were the last words I said to her until last night.
She had attempted to talk to me several times, but I would just walk past her into my office, trying to focus on my upcoming science fiction comedy book. Writing something funny is challenging when the thought of your spouse rolling around with another man stuck in her consumes your thoughts. A week ago, my daughter asked in the car if everything was okay, and I lied to her, which made me feel sick. Then, last night, my wife came to the office door and asked, "Are we getting a divorce?" I looked at her and replied, "Looks like it." She started crying and closed the door.
I haven't consulted an attorney, and the thought of divorce hadn't crossed my mind until she mentioned it. That's why I wrote this essay. Where do I go from here? How do I start to untangle this mess? I have no desire for therapy. I don't even want to step outside. I'm broken at this moment. The burden of everything has been overwhelming. There's been so much to bear this past year. What do you say to someone who has been by your side through it all, only to tear your heart apart?
Thank you for reading to the end. And for those who are part of the TLDR crowd, my wife decided to go home with a younger man, felt guilty about it, and quit her job. She waited eight years to tell me about it.
​
Comments
​
Foreign_Flight4566
Jesus, man. I’m sorry for your loss(es). Timing of your wife’s confession is mind-boggling. Realistically, this is above Reddit’s pay grade. I’ll recommend therapy, but probably above a therapist’s pay grade too. I know you also state you don’t want therapy, but that sounds like the exact time you need it. They can offer grief support, which is what you’ll need as you tease out emotions from losing loved ones and a very nasty betrayal. I hope you find happiness in whatever you decide.

OOP: I contemplated several different subs and I have no idea why I chose this one. I should have clarified above that after my son died, local hospice house around here has grief counseling, which I used extensively. I don't want to do couple's counseling is what I should have said. My apologies. I posted this to try and get outside perspectives from people, and maybe give me a different angle to look at this.

​
cakivalue
Not couples counseling but individual therapy for you. You need the support right now after all you've been through and an unbiased third party to support you through the pain and demise of your marriage, next steps and co-parenting.
My unprofessional angle here is that this is most likely over. Had she come clean in 2017 you would have been able to make a choice regarding forgiveness, couples therapy etc. she held on to this secret for seven years and then dumped it on you at the worst time in order to ease her own guilty feelings. Especially knowing that you had both been hurt in this exact way in the past is especially jaw dropping that she did all of this.
​
Magnum_tv
Fuck man! This is...just fuck...
Firstly, I'm so sorry for your losses. I extend my sincere condolences.
You need grief counseling. This would help you put things in perspective. At least you'll be able to eventually make decisions based on logic than just pure emotion.
Secondly, your spouse. She not only betrayed you, she lied to you for eight years. EIGHT YEARS! That's fucking scary, because now you're gonna be wondering what else she can be hiding.
Now I'm an asshole, I'd be out of that marriage tomorrow. You however, have truly built a life with her. If, and I mean a big fucking IF, she's regretful, you should divorce, it would be less stress in your life having to be her warden. Because the trust is gone.
If, she's remorseful, you could try to work it out. But she needs to put in the work. Not you, HER. Because she's the one who fucked up.
Remember, regret and remorse are two completely different things.
I'd recommend you still talk to a lawyer before making a final decision. The more informed you are, the better choice you'll be able to make.
I'm truly sorry you're dealing with this, best of luck brother.

OOP: Thank you so much. This is another thing in the back of my mind what else has she been dishonest about?

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Update - 3 days later
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UPDATE - After spending Saturday morning formulating and reading the staggering number of comments, I've made my decision. Some said my issue was far beyond the Reddit pay grade – they were mistaken. I deliberately avoided turning to family and friends, seeking a view from an outside perspective, and I think it worked. My gratitude goes out to all who sent private messages and responded; your thoughts on the matter helped me come to my conclusion.
On Saturday evening, I approached my wife to apologize for the silent treatment, I told her I wasn't attempting to punish her and acknowledged that it was childish. I told her if I would have opened my mouth, I would have been overly harsh and ruined any opportunity of a civil conversation. I promised we'd discuss it the next day.
On Sunday evening, I let it all out; I didn't cry, or raise my voice. I asked the man's name, which she provided. I asked her if the man was married when she betrayed us, and she confirmed he was. That hit me hard, because she knew he was also with someone. I asked if he was still married. She told me she had no clue, she hadn't seen him since the day she left for her new job. I told her I hoped they were, because I was going to make sure she knew. If my life had to be ripped apart, so would his. I thought that would get a rise out of her, it didn't. She just nodded.
I expressed my doubts about the affair being an isolated event, echoing the comments of several others. She maintained it was a one-off and was the sole reason she left her job. I explained that after eight years of this lie, it's natural for me to question anything she said. I then made it clear that if there's more to the story than what she's admitted, now is the time to be as open and honest as possible.
Any further revelations would be a deal-breaker for me, and there would be no excuse that could rectify it. She pleaded it was a singular occurrence and that she's been wanting to confess since it happened. I asked if he had reached out after her departure, she denied any contact. I responded that it didn't surprise me, assuming he got what he wanted and moved on to another person at work. It was the only cheap shot I threw.
I requested that she leave the house for a few weeks, I wasn't telling her it was over, but I wanted to be away from her. I suggested she could stay with her sister, her mother, or even rent a place—anywhere but here. I also informed her of my intention to discuss the situation with our daughter, who is 16 by the way, some people have commented believing her to be quite younger. To my surprise, my wife revealed she had already told her about a week ago, which I was completely unaware of. She inquired about the tone of the house, and my anger, and my wife confessed to her. Before my daughter went to bed, I asked her, and indeed, my wife had admitted that she had been unfaithful. I wanted to know why she hadn't come to me about it, and she told me she didn't want to make me feel worse.
I've decided to keep her home from school tomorrow to have a heart-to-heart about everything. It's important for me to understand her feelings and to emphasize that harboring hatred towards her mother isn't the goal. Her mother has always been loving and supportive. It's natural for her to feel angry, and that's okay, but picking sides isn't beneficial – nobody wins in this situation. It's a tough reality I'm coming to terms with, everyone loses. Tomorrow, I plan to contact three local therapists and reach out to the grief counselor I met after my son's death. I'm not interested in couple's therapy; I believe individual therapy is what I need, and since it's highly recommended, I'm going to pursue it.
My daughter's school year is ending soon, and I'm looking forward to spending quality time with her. I prefer to keep our plans private from family and friends; it's our personal matter. Someone advised me about controlling the narrative, but the only thing that matters now is that my daughter knows the truth. I need some time to come to terms if this relationship is salvageable. I need this time for self-reflection and to assess the situation. When she asked if we were going the route of legal separation, I clarified that it wasn't the case. I told her that when I look at her it brings up feelings of anger, which isn't healthy.
To my astonishment, she consented to everything. She doesn't want our relationship to end, and I reminded her that her actions with him forfeited that choice to me. She mentioned my wedding ring as a sign that she still matters to me, and I assured her that she does. I proposed we conclude things there. As I walked by, I touched her shoulder; she nodded in agreement. Later, she phoned her sister and made plans to stay with her the following evening after work.
TLDR. I want to express my gratitude to everyone for their support and guidance, except to the asshole that just wanted to pick a fight. I apologize for the length of my initial post; I believed the full context was necessary to help you understand why I'm so conflicted. To those who reached out privately and know my identity, your discretion is deeply appreciated. I'm looking forward to spending the next month with my daughter and starting therapy. Your messages are welcome, and I'll do my best to respond to each one. I'll provide another update in the future when I've made a decision about our next steps or if it's time to move on. I am not rushing into this decision lightly.
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Comments
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Bolt_McHardsteel
Clearly you have given this a lot of thought, and come up with a way forward that is best for you. Good luck in therapy, get yourself mentally right, there is no rush to make a final decision on your marriage. Take good care of your daughter! She seems like an amazing kid. Hang in there.
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I am not the OOP. Please do not harass the OOP.
Please remember the No Brigading Rule and to be civil in the comments

I fear to communicate with my partner so I don’t say the wrong thing to upset him every single day. But how am I supposed to get out?
I’ve been with (what I’m certain to be) a narcissist. While he has a very loving way to him at times like leaving love notes on occasion, he is also all about himself almost 99% of the time.
A little backstory: Our three-year-old daughter and him are completely reliant on myself as the bread winner. I work six out of seven days every other week on a rotation for my job as a Healthcare worker. Our daughter goes to preschool. I get her up in the mornings, dressed, fed, and dropped off at school before I start my work shift. My fiancé doesn’t have a driver’s license as he lost it when he was much younger due to a DUI.
A short history of our relationship before our daughter was born, he was love-bombing at the very beginning, of course. However, it did not take long to show his jealous, controlling, and delusional side. I’ve been physically assaulted on more than one occasion from his inappropriate behaviour while intoxicated. However, his last time drinking was about four months ago.
This is where the fear kicks in - closer to his birthday (July) and Christmas. Although he hasn’t put hands on me in a few years, why do I have the fear still? I’ve explained to him several times I’m still scared and that I can’t let go of the trauma it’s caused me.
He has an opioid addiction with T4 that he often snorts to alleviate his “anxiety”. I’ve expressed to him several times that I’m not OK with this. The communication has been put out there. However, my opinions and feelings are not actually acknowledged. So because of this, I stopped expressing how I feel so I don’t cause any fights.
In no means am I looking for pity. I just want advice. I have no one to talk to. No friends, no family. I’ve used my local women’s shelter numerous times and feel more anxious with every time I try to plan my ‘escape’. Only to return back to the same cycle with him. He doesn’t work and so he’s always home. I don’t want to kick him out or break up with him in person as I’m afraid of him coming back intoxicated. While I do not have to let him in, he has broken windows in the past to get into my home.
I’m at my wits end. I just want to pack my belongings up and leave with my daughter. But I have no idea how to do so. He is not currently set up on the lease agreement to our house. It’s only myself. He refuses to be put on the lease for whatever reason. I know I can just have the police tell him to leave in that case. However, I would like a less intrusive way so that he doesn’t get angered to return with bad intentions.
I want to reach out to the women’s shelter again. But I’m embarrassed to do so and I don’t want my home vandalized. I just want to be done for good. I understand his lack of trust in people as he was in foster care as a child and often was abused and lied to often. However, I sometimes feel not trusted and respected because of the hurt that was caused to him.
My question is: What would be the best way out? I’m beginning to realize that I can’t help him with his trauma and that he will always continue to take it out on me by making small hurtful comments. If I dare tell him it hurts my feelings, I’m being sensitive and I must be having a really bad day.

I (27F) have an older brother, 33M. We didn't get along very much as kids due to the age gap, not for my lack of trying. I never really understood why my brother didn't really like spending time with me, because he was one of my favorite people in the world, despite all his bullying.
For context, I'll give some examples of what my brother has done to me over the years with some vague age ranges of when they occurred.
When I was about 3, my brother convinced me that red was orange and orange was red because I was learning my colors in preschool. He also used to steal food like tater tots off my little high chair tray and would pretend he didn't do anything when my mom checked on why I was crying (I was NOT a fussy baby/toddler, so it set off alarm bells when I did.)
I think when I was 4 or 5, my brother came into my room after I had already been put to bed, and he woke me up. Thing is, he was hovering over me with a scary mask on, only the hallway light, and a butterknife. Not sure I really have to explain why that was traumatic. I'm still afraid of masks to this day.
When I was around 10-12, my brother kept drinking all the milk or kool aid that I would make and never replenish/remake it. I told him to stop, he wouldn't, of course. My mom was fostering other children and didn't have time for squabbles like this. So I very visibly spit on top of the kool aid pitcher and left the lid off so it was seen. What does my (reminder, 17-19) brother do? He wrenches the bowl of cereal I'm currently eating out of my hands, spits in it, and shoves it back at me hard enough that it spilled all over me. Now, I'm not an angry person. I'm not a violent person. But I was still a child and fed up with being bullied by someone who was/almost an adult. I never tried getting physical before because I was so much smaller, but I hit puberty kind of early. So I splashed the bowl back at him to see how he liked it. He threw me to the ground and hit me. My mom had to break us up and told us we were both to blame, so he didn't even get punished.
Several times, he would turn the lights off on me when I was on the other side of the room in the basement away from the switch, because I was afraid of the dark for a very long time.
We had Sonic Adventure 2 we shared. If we ever fought about something, or I reminded him it was my turn, he threatened to say goodbye forever to my chao. I am extremely soft hearted so that accomplished what he wanted.
Sometimes I would notice my things go missing. I had assumed maybe my mom put them away somewhere and forgot, but I'm pretty sure I know what happened to them. Especially gamecube games-- Those discs were tiny! He was pawning them for drug and booze money. One time he was drunk and admitted he had been selling his adderall for other drugs. That came to a head one terrible Christmas Eve. Brother was home for the holiday and I'm not very clear on what events led up to it, but my parents caught my brother in the bathroom with a baggie of various drugs that he was already doing. He insisted it was just weed, but my parents didn't believe that. I wouldn't know, I only briefly saw the bag, but it was full of both a large green ball of like leaves and lots of white powder. It was a vicious screaming match for a few hours. I hid out in my room on a different floor and played a video game as loud as I could so I didn't have to hear my family. The screams died down after a while, and I cautiously went out of my room. My brother had left the house for a while. I had a few holiday assignments and decided to just crank them out while my family cooled off, and I did it at the dining room table because that's where our Christmas tree was too and I desperately needed that good cheer magic. I was quietly writing, not saying anything, not making much noise, when my brother came back in the house. He stopped off at the kitchen for something and muttered something rude and belittling to me. At this point I'm a preeten-early teen and he had already ruined the day that had always been magical to me before, as my grandma used to stay over with us on Christmas Eve. She had died rather recently at the time. And I can't tell you exactly what I said. I think I've blocked out as much as I can. I made some snide remark, something like 'at least I don't do drugs' and in the next second I was yanked out of my chair. My brother picked me up by the neck and slammed me against the wall. I know I clawed and kicked against the wall as hard as I could. I blacked out, and I woke up on the floor with my parents absolutely screaming at him that he could have killed me. As a side note to the whole ordeal, he never apologized, and it's made my adult life a lot harder as weed becomes more and more commonplace. Just the thought of it used to send me in a panic attack, I could feel the hands choking me again. I've gotten better about dealing with it, but I still refuse to have it in any part of my life whatsoever. It's cost me a few relationships.
When I was in college, my brother had moved back in with me and my parents because his girlfriend dumped him for being a piece of shit that worked at walmart and did nothing but drink all day despite having a state paid scholarship, that he wasted, because he couldn't keep his GPA above 2.8. He was a music major. The classes he took were things like 'History of Jimi Hendrix' and 'The Beatles'. He just partied too much to even attend class. He took the dog they got with him, not at all prepared for her. The dog is a high energy breed that is difficult to train, and we had two small 5-10 pound dogs at home. At 1 year old, bro's dog was about 30 pounds. He often left for several hours during summers/breaks when I was home, without telling anyone, knowing that I would either hear the dog cry if he crated them and feel bad and let them out or that I wouldn't banish them to a crate if they were already in a room with me. The dog bullied our other dogs and bit at everyone. Dog was incredibly overly protective of my brother-- Trait of the breed. I was back at college for a few months and had spent a good month mourning the loss of a 5 year relationship. I never really heard anything from him. Then out of the blue, my brother asks me if I can let him and dog stay for the night (we live 2 hours from the college) because my mom had kicked him out. The dog had bit her and she snapped at my brother to control his f'ing dog and he responded by calling her, the woman who birthed him, payed for his other college costs, paid back loans he promised to pay to other family members, never charged him rent, and he called her a f'ing female dog. She snapped. While I agree that my mom was completely in the right to do that, I have too soft of a heart to just leave him with nowhere to go. He promised it was just a night so he could get in touch with some friends closer to home and figure shit out. I let him come to me.
I really regret that decision.
At the time I had a new roommate (she was very nice though, I liked her) and a sort of FWB who doted on me for a little while. I texted FWB and asked if he could bring some alcohol by-- I was still 19 at the time, underage to buy it, but FWB was old enough and agreed the man could probably do with a drink. We stayed out on our little porch area to make sure that we wouldn't be disturbing my roomie in any way while we socialized. My brother got really wasted. He told me terrible things about our deceased grandmother (who he knew I had really loved growing up, and had no idea about who she really was because she had always loved me). And he laughed. He laughed when he saw the discomfort on my face. My FWB was feeling pretty bad for me and suggested we go to bed because it was also like 3 in the morning and both of us had class in the morning, so we go inside. The apartment has a shared common room/living room, little kitchen area, and laundry closet. My bedroom is on one side and roomie's was on the other-- Both bathrooms are also ensuite to the bedroom. So I went in and changed out of my clothes into something comfier to sleep in and crawled into my bed, letting my brother do his own thing in the bathroom. I'm just trying to rest and suddenly my brother is pulling me out of my bed and dragging me out of my own room. He's yelling that he's taking my bed, did I really expect him to take the couch? And I'm not very confrontational. I'm flustered, tired, and honestly a little afraid after the neck choke incident. FWB steps in like a hero and tries to calmly explain that its my bed, and I will sleep in it, I have been kind enough to let him stay and he should not be so ungrateful. Brother fucking loses his mind. Starts screaming his head off about how selfish I am and how reliant I am on our parents and won't be able to do anything on my own as an adult (I was financially dependent on my parents at 19 while in college, shocker). He starts drunkenly trying to pick up his dog's toys and searching for his keys, and both FWB and I step in and tell him he can't go driving like this, after like half a bottle of fireball. He at least needs to sober up before he can drive. I stand in front of the front door, as my brother is still searching for his keys, and there is no way I'm letting him out of here right now. Brother has found his keys, and starts pulling at me and hurting me. Lucky for me, FWB had been a pretty good wrestler in highschool. He got my brother pinned down and I snatched the keys, hiding over by the sink in case I had to throw them in there. He's screaming his head off and my poor roommate comes out and asks what the hell is going on because she knows I'm very quiet and tend to keep visitors in my room. I'm like half sobbing trying to explain and the FWB, still pinning my brother, tells her that we're trying to keep him from drunk driving. My roommate does not play around with that. She was in nursing school, and had recently lost a friend to a drunk driver. I don't know how it worked, but she put on her stern nurse tone and told my brother that he was free to leave when he sobered up, or she herself would be calling the cops on him, and both me and FWB could press additional charges for assault. He reluctantly agreed to this condition and FWB let him off the floor, but sat in front of the front door just in case. When he was sobered up, he left, saying 'I hope you like mom and dad, because I'm not your family anymore'.
And that was devastating. I couldn't stop crying. My FWB went back to bed with me and laid me down in bed and let me cry until I passed out. He skipped his class that day to be there for me. I know I don't paint a good picture of my brother, but I did/do love him. I thought now that we were older that he'd mellowed out and we could be good friends like I always wanted. I mean, I made like 300 fake facebook accounts back in the day to vote for his band to be a headliner at a large concert. Just a few years prior when he was home on a break he introduced me to a TV show we binged and he let my lay on his shoulder. (I was/am very touch starved but paralyzed by fear that I'm annoying the other person, and all my friends were made later in life and are states away). When Pokemon Go came out we would take late night drives around quiet places of town while hunting pokemon together. We traded off the controller on online battlefield games and compared scores and the most ridiculous deaths. I really thought that he loved me too, finally, after years of resentment.
He didn't speak to me for 2 years. I didn't find out until later, but my parents lied for him on my behalf that he still loved me and was just annoyed, and gave me birthday/christmas presents that they told me had been from him, just that he was working. I really treasured those objects when I didn't know the truth about them. I got a really stupid mug with the first letter of my name on it in pink and zebra print (two things I don't really enjoy) but I used that thing every single day.
So, these are glimpses into my previous relationship with my brother. I don't really remember when he started speaking to me again, but I sure know he never apologized. He had finally hit rock bottom and asked my father to put in a good word for him at (insert facility with decent pay and good benefits but hard work), which he had previously rejected by telling my parents that it was a shit job. My brother's name got put closer to the top of the resumes. He got in. It wasn't easy work, or comfy sometimes, but it paid well enough to endure that, I guess. My brother used to be rather athletic.
Between the cut off point and then, my brother had worked at a (also generic job) a town or two over and hated the commute. He also happened to find a girlfriend with an apartment sort of close by. She didn't like having him over because of his dog, and almost never let him do any overnight. But now that my brother had a better paying job, she was willing to move in with him, of course. My brother bought a house in our home town and she came with it. She pays a ridiculously low amount of rent to my brother.
If she was home and brother wasn't, the dog stayed crated up because she didn't want to deal with it. Both of them worked, but her job isn't at all difficult. And yet somehow, sometimes pulling doubles, my brother ended up doing most of everything. My brother, who didn't learn to do his laundry until his 20s, ate pizza every single day, and had left used condoms on the floor of his bedroom in our parents house when he left. He did most of the cooking because she says she's bad at it. But will make pies for her mom. When the holidays came around, instead of discussing or rotating, they will always go to her family first. If my brother can come to ours at all. He often misses entire occassions (we don't go out big, but like, cmon. Hand your dad the gift card on his birthday at least, not 2 weeks later).
I also used to get to hangout or see my brother sometimes. Maybe once every few weeks, and it was fun! It was the friendship I had always dreamt of. Now I can't even get him to do anything online with me from the comfort of his own home. I don't have a single text from him this year past 1/27.
At first, we all understood. She was quirky. I was quirky. We share several similar traits and interests. I used to like that and be excited to have a family member like me, but now I dread the day she becomes family.
Let's start with the smoking car. Me and my parents were driving near his street so we could cut through to the highway, and out of nowhere, black smoke starts coming from the hood. My father tells me and my mom to get out and he'll get it to my brother's and out of the road to look at it and see what was going on. This was like.... early August. It was very hot outside. Since I've 'been in the house before' and 'know what it's like' I am 'allowed' to come into my brother's house to cool off. But GF refuses letting in either of them, referring to the messy state of the house. Which, okay, fair-- But its HER messes. My brother cleans up after her. I learned later that GF snapped at him about his family always coming over unannounced and how she has to hurry to put on a bra and everything is messy and we can't just drop in its rude! She says, as her mother and brother do the exact same thing, in a house she doesn't own. But my family let it be water under the bridge for now. My brother called me a f'in a'hole for telling my mom about the conversation. Because my mom was livid.
The next thing is my father. My dad's family has a pretty big history of strokes and heart attacks, and he's had one heart attack. My dad had been in pain all day and he finally gave up at about 3AM and woke my mom up to drive him to the hospital. I don't have a license at this point, so there's little that I can do. My mom says the surgery he probably needs isn't even done here and they're transferring him, my mom asked me to keep my brother in the loop. So I told him about this and about the time they would reach the hospital, because my mom dad gran and I share locations. I asked if he would take me up, I had a bag full of things that might make him more comfortable or less stressed. The hospital they're taking our dad to is a little over an hour away. Everyone is more or less frantic. My brother is talking to work for him, I'm making sure that for however many hours that our pets will be okay and talking to my mom's work. We drive there and nothing major happens, but it was so... Uncomfortable? Tense. The thing that's hurting my dad is a blocked or enlarged blood vessel that cuts off oxygen to the tissue around it, which, cells die, and you really need your colon, the area my dad has an issue with. The thing is, until they can do the surgery, it was like he was a ticking time bomb. My brother takes me home when visitor hours are over and I hold my dogs tight. The next day is filled with lots of pricks pokes and prods at my dad so we don't go that day. We do go the day after, Friday. My brother's GF is in the truck with him. I'm not really paying attention to much of anything because for all we know my dad could die before we got there. Brothers' GF goes to get some snacks from the long drive and the fact that she's not exactly family yet. My brother, mom and I rotate who is away in the cafe and eating with GF. I see GF and my brother whispering angrily at each other. She's tugging at his arm. I manage to pick up 'We're going to miss my mom's dinner!" And I am just stunned. Her mother has a small family dinner every single friday and makes meatloaf. His GF wanted us to head back from our critical father, because she didn't want to miss a weekly event. And I really have to hand it to my brother for not snapping right then and there. He waited until we were in his truck and out of the hospital parking lot and says "How in the f'ck do you say something to me like that? Like, for real, wtf!" GF starts crying and says its a family tradition and her mom is all she has left-- False. She has her mom, sister, and brother, at least. Her father died in a car incident that hospitalized her as a kid. So my brother snaps again like 'are you seriously telling me you value a f'ing loaf of meat over a life? we have no idea what will happen, my dad could die within the hour and i'm not there, he could die tomorrow, how long d-" And GF cuts him off wailing that her dad is dead. Which, yes, is a horrifyingly traumatic experience. But she does not get to play the 'my dad is dead' card ten years after the fact, to justify leaving our possibly dying father before visiting hours ended. She tried to emotionally blackmail my brother by apologizing to me through tears that this must be so hard for me but honestly I was doing my best to block it out, staring at pictures of dogs in hammocks. I shared my brother's sentiment.
But wait, there's more! Remember that car accident GF had years ago? You would think that, if nothing else, she would be empathetic for someone/their family in a car crash? You'd be wrong! I was rear ended at 60 mph right in front of my house after coming home from work (the ambulance took me straight back to work lmao). The physical damage to me was pretty minimal, bruises and a sprained ankle because my foot was pressed on the brake, waiting for an opportunity to cross into the driveway. This was late October 2020. Covid regulations were pretty strict. So I was alone in a room for a while and in pain. My parents had followed the ambulance. My dad had actually heard the crash and went 'huh she usually comes home now' and runs over after seeing the wreckage. My parents had the crash footage, grainy, but there thanks to the cameras set up outside our house. I hadn't realized it by that point but I had a pretty good concussion, and I was hurt, and scared. I was texting my mom constantly but my dad had left his phone at home in the rush to get my mom and she hadn't charged her phone, they'd been in the parking lot for like an hour and a half already. They promised me they'd be back soon, they'll just pop in and let my brother know since he lives nearby. My parents didn't even ask to like, stay and sit with them instead of a cold car. My mom asked to pee and to borrow a charging cable (they had one, GF has the same model phone) given the, you know, situation. My brother barely cracked the door to speak with them. He said no, because GF was uncomfortable, because they were waiting for their second negative test to come in. Read that again. They had tested negative. It's not like my mom would go near anyone to the bathroom either-- The back door that's used more often is literally inches away from the bathroom door. My brother didn't even try to argue with his GF about his own home and some empathy for someone else dealing with a car crash. It absolutely disgusted my parents. And later on brother told me he got another earful about our parents just dropping in without notice and its like? Excuse me? Its his house!
Unfortunately, a tire popped on my parents' car when we were nearby. It was like, 3 years since the first issue with the car. I went inside and asked my brother to let my mom in because its raining. GF did not like that, and didn't realize I could overhear her down the hall, arguing with my brother and his family again. I went over the next day to my brother and he was actively cleaning up GF's mess so it wouldn't be as 'embarassing' for her. I sat him down and talked to him as realistically as I could. I have depression, anxiety, emotional abuse trauma, agorophobia, and very few friends. But I'm okay. He started very quietly expressing his frustration towards GF. She doesn't do much around the house or contribute financially, lets her family over but not his, him doing most of the cooking despite regularly pulling 12s. I sat there calmly, because of course I knew this. This is what makes the situation somewhat even more sticky. I asked my brother, "Do you actually love someone like that? Or are you afraid to be alone?" He's been in one relationship or another for most of my life. Lately he had been confiding in me about how bad his mental health was falling and I was like 'that's not a slump, that's. that's depression.' So when I asked my brother the question, he hesitated. That spoke loudly enough in my opinion. But then I also saw my brother's face crumpling as he admitted he just didn't want to be alone. GF wants babies but my brother knows with her medical history and condition on top of being so lazy and bluntly told me she would not be a good mother and hopes to God that day doesn't come. He is so unhappy being with her. We both heard the rustling of a comforter and my brother lowered his panicky voice and asked me to leave so she doesn't see me here. That is incredibly messed up, especially since its his name on the house. I haven't seen my brother at his house since then, and that was over 2 years ago.
During COVID, GF started working from home, and it stayed that way. My brother still takes care of most things.
In the mean time, he's proposed to her. Yeah. I managed to save things when all our faces dropped at the Christmas dinner he announced their engagement at. My brother calls her by a nickname that was also the name of a beloved family dog that had passed away only one month ago. My dad and my reactions at that time were genuine confusion and sadness about him bringing up our passed pet. Everything was pretty quiet after that. When we got home, I texted my brother and told him that hearing our dog's name in conversation after losing her so recently shattered us, be we were, in fact, happy for his engagement.
I lied.
None of us want him to marry her. I dread the day that I get a wedding invitation or GF shows up pregnant. She would be a terrible mother. My brother is aware of the fact that my parents think she's a rude, inconsiderate brat that only thinks of herself, from that earlier conversation that I talked to my parents about. My mom snapped that they don't have to like her, all they were required to do was be civil, and we are, so shut up.
At larger family functions GF tends to gravitate around me. Like I said, we have similar interests and personalities. And I have never told her to get lost or had it in me to upfront tell her we don't like her. I am absolutely horrible at confrontation, but my patience is wearing thin.
Last year my parents set up brunch for Mother's Day. We were at the table when my brother called and said they were going to urgent care because GF had another one of her migraines that make her vomit. Which, she takes medicine and has injectable solutions. Some situation always comes up with her right before my brother would come to us.
My parents tried again with the Mother's Day brunch last week. On the day of, he said that he was too tired to come, can we try next week? Please insert the eyeroll of the century.
Because of our clear dislike, my brother doesn't often bring his GF around anymore on the offchance she lets him. It occurred to me that my parents planned the same brunch as last year, and I was dreading my question. "Is GF coming with us for brunch?" They don't know. All my brother did was confirm the time and place. The thought of having to deal with her in the morning and pretend that I don't see her for what she is, is already exhausting me. I can barely get my brother to even play online with me. I feel like this has been festering long enough that at some point, its all going to overflow at once. But I am absolutely disgusted by how she takes advantage of my brother's fear of being alone and how the world revolves around her.
I had a dream the other day, actually, it was a good dream. I was at their wedding, and the priest guy said the standard 'speak now or hold your peace' and I stood up and loudly shouted OBJECTION! Every single person in the room turned to look at me, one because I don't raise my voice like that, two my patience is vast, and three, to upset me to this level of shouldering my anxiety by making a spectacle of myself. I then explained every detail, especially how much she was charged for rent, that my brother admitted he wasn't happy, and I wanted better for him than to just be an ATM maid.
If I bring this up to my brother again, I may lose him forever. But if I don't, he may be miserable together. And on the third side-- Do I actually really want my brothers' friendship at this point? Like, I'm definitely fed up dealing with his GF like she is. Plus, I pointed out and reiterated to him before that he admitted he wasn't happy.
I am very, very quiet by default. Never got into much trouble. I was and still am a gentle soul at my core being. If things get to a point where I cross lines of polite manners and call someone out on their bs, people around know that someone did something almost unforgivable. I'm wondering if my brother would know that.
TLDR; Brother's fiancee is disliked for good reason. My brother has isolated. I miss him, but also never want to see him again. I want to remind him that this marriage isn't a good idea, but I don't want to antagonize him.

For context, I currently live in Japan. I’ve been teaching here for 7 years (4 years in elementary + 3 years & counting in preschool). I don’t have a valid teaching license cause I mostly teach English as a Second Language (yes, they’re not as strict here). I only got a degree in Communications and a 120-hour TESOL certification, aside from my work experiences above. I’ve been looking at jobs in Indeed and I’ve seen ads allowing non-degree holders to apply as long as they got certain credentials.
So my question is: can I apply for a job if I’m based in Japan? What sort of credentials can I get online, and if so, which college/university would you recommend? I work a daily 8-5 job so I think weekends would work best for me. Is this even doable? If anyone has done online classes to get certifications and such, I’d appreciate if you’ll DM me please. Thanks everyone and have a blessed weekend!

I'm a 21 year old rising junior in college home for the summer and looking to babysit/nanny in the suburbs of STL. The average household income in my area is roughly 100-150k, but our cost of living is relatively low. I have 3yrs of babysitting experience, worked in my church daycare (infants/toddlers) on sundays for a year, and was a floater during summer preschool at the same church (very sought after preschool behind the montessori ones). On the FB groups, most of the high school/college girls are charging $15/hr base rate and have the same experience as me with babysitting/nannying but don't mention daycare/preschool work. Should I be charging $15/hr like them? I have two current families who've I've had since last summer. I'm still very uncomfortable "charging" so I told those families last year to pay me what they feel comfortable with, which is $18/hr for two kids for one family and $25/hr for one kid for the other family. (Kids are 2.5, 6, and 4). Sorry this is long I'm just confused on what I should put as my rates when I make the FB post.