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So, if you’re just joining us, I work at a haunted zoo now. Since I’ve gotten some rest, it feels like I’ve got my head on straight, at least, so I’d like to continue where I left off.
I sat on the floor in the office after meeting the ghost until I’d settled my rattled mind (and realized I’d forgotten to ask her name, how rude is that?). I took a deep breath and got up off the floor. Walking over and falling into the rolling chair in front of the large screen of camera views, when I brought up the camera that covered the area in which I’d spotted her, she was still there, and it seemed she hadn’t moved an inch.
Sitting there, at a loss, I continued to watch her. The ghost hung around for another five minutes or so, appearing to look at a few things off-screen, though I’m not sure what. Then she walked off into the forest and left the view of the cameras. I wasn’t sure if she vanished into the ether or if she’d gone looking into the trees to look for something.
But that wasn’t the end of the job interview, so let me jump back there. It continued into what kind of animals the zoo had, with Andrew asking me how much experience I had with dangerous animals.
I took a moment to consider the question. “So, ah…I’ve been going hunting and fishing with a neighbor since I was sixteen,” I told him. “We always have to keep an eye out for gators, bears, and hogs. Then there’s snakes, of course…snapping turtles… Since I’ve lived here my whole life and been aiming for a job with wildlife for a long time, I know a lot about the animals in Arkansas in general. But good advice for all of the above is avoid them, so I’ve had encounters, but I don’t know if you’d say I have experience with them.”
“That’s fine,” Andrew said, nodding. “That’s an answer I’m satisfied with. Now, the ghost was the appetizer, Ripley; here’s the main course. To start with, the pay isn’t twenty-five an hour. It’s fifty.”
Staring in shock for a moment, I asked, “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. But that’d be weird to post online considering what applicants think we need, so I halved it.”
“That’s… Okay, why?”
“The animals are already here. You just can’t see them.”
I stared at him for a long moment, some disbelief worming its way into my expression, before saying, “Sorry, what?”
“There’s a chance you’d naturally never see them, or at least some of them,” he continued casually. “It depends on both your genetics and how long you stay on the job. I can naturally see six of them, but that’s it. Suzanne can see all of them, and more. Some are what people would label demons or ghosts. Or magic. Mostly you’d call them cryptids. The ghost was just a warm-up; I mentioned her first because it never takes more than a week to see her if you work the night shift. If you manage to handle her okay, soon you’ll be able to see the animals too. The more time you spend on the grounds, for weird reasons,” he said, wiggling his fingers in the direction of the back door, “the more you’ll be able to see.”
“So, this…this is a zoo for cryptids,” I echoed slowly. He nodded once, waiting to find out what kind of reaction I would have. I gestured vaguely around the room. “If this is a hidden camera show, will you cut me a check for showing up and participating?”
Andrew coughed out a chuckle and shook his head. “No joke. There are a ton of stories out there that have been written to death, pulverized until they’re not the Grimm stories of old and instead they’re Disney films. A lot of those stories come from what some humans have seen. There are dozens of other worlds pressed up against ours, and occasionally things come through by accident. If they’re smart, they’ll lay low and then make their way back when they can. If not, they become local folklore until someone helps them back. I’m just from London, but Suzanne is from somewhere else. She hires people like us for this zoo. Humans.”
Sighing, I shook my head. “That makes no sense. Why would she hire a muggle for a magic zoo?”
Andrew burst out laughing at that, and then waited to gather himself before he continued. “Fair point, but this is less about magic and more about animals, and you’re missing some information that will explain it. First of all, if I misjudge an employee, and they think they can make bank by outing the endangered and valuable animals we have, it’s easy to relocate the zoo.”
“Because magic?” I asked.
“Exactly,” he replied, ignoring the thread of skepticism in my tone. “That means it isn’t the end of the world if that happened, though it is a pain in the arse. But second…let me ask you a question. Speaking of reality shows, say the Discovery Channel put out a call to replace Steve Irwin when he passed. Imagine they had a line out the door,” he said with a gesture, “of people who thought they had the skill and natural talent to replace him, to take on everything he’d been doing his whole life. How many do you reckon would lose an arm, a leg, or their life, by the end of the day?”
My lips parted in surprise and I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re saying people from…wherever…they’re just as dumb as humans, but they’re worse, because they actually think they can handle these things.”
Andrew pointed the pen at me. “Things. Exactly. You called them things. Suzanne and her friends grew up with them and would call them animals. These animals have dispositions and temperaments that we’ve studied for as long as there have been scientists. Where Suzanne’s from, they know the weaknesses of these animals, and also they’re in enclosures here, even if you and I can’t see the walls because they’re invisible things called ‘wards’. If I hire someone who’s got magic on top of all that, they’ll have almost no instinctive fear.
“Everything here is nocturnal, and every one of them is a hunter. Some of these things? Humans see them and they pass out. Not that I want you passing out, but I need someone who is scared of these things, who knows to stay out of the enclosures no matter what. Not someone who thinks they can train them to do tricks, who gets close enough for them to grab a mouthful of hair and drown them. Once, we had a night shift manager injured, and once killed, because they didn’t take these animals seriously enough.”
Thinking back to the Sea World orca incident I knew he’d been referencing, I remembered wondering how someone at that level of her profession could be so careless as I watched the video on YouTube. It made sense when he explained it like that. I hesitated before mentally throwing my hands up and going all in. “So, why put this place here, then? If they’re endangered and also dangerous, why have a zoo at all instead of just a small reserve?”
He pursed his lips, looking disappointed in me. “Ripley. You know that already. You already said as much.”
Thinking back through our conversation, I said, “The rich humans who pay top dollar to see supernatural animals.”
“Not humans,” he told me. “But people, yes, and they are rich, and they’re making donations and spending their money on a ticket here because everything we have is endangered.”
“So…”
I just let my voice trail off and my mind started to drift. Andrew remained silent, letting me do so. There’s that thing people say, ‘I believe that you believe it,’ which is just a kinder way of saying, ‘Bullshit.’ Parents say it about closet monsters. Psychologists say it to people who say they’ve been abducted and probed by aliens. I wanted to say it to Andrew.
But I also wanted a job. If it meant working overnight at an empty zoo, that was fine. When it came down to it, especially when I took the tone of our conversation into account, this was a zoo specifically focused on preserving endangered ‘animals’, and it was allegedly doing important work. Also, if this turned out to be the real deal and I started seeing the animals, I would deal with it, just like I would deal with an enclosure that had a lion or tiger or gorilla. If it came with a ghost and invisible creatures, I really didn’t see what the difference was, if I couldn’t go in the enclosures either way.
On that note, I’d like you to imagine a kid who looks at a roller coaster, watching everyone screaming and grinning as they go up and down and all around and they’re like, ‘Heck, I could do that! That looks like a blast!’
Then they get on, the first drop hits, and they realize they’ve made a terrible mistake.
“All right,” I sighed. “I can’t say I’m going to turn down a job just because it’s going to be scary. Especially not one with this paycheck.”
Andrew smiled. “Awesome. There’s an adjustment process for anyone working here, similar to a dog that gets adopted, actually. I know the general guidelines of, ‘three days, three weeks, three months’ in terms of milestones, until they finally feel they’re where they’re supposed to be,” he told me, “and you can think of your time here along those lines. I really think you’re a great fit, and once you reach the milestone of working here for three months, I’ll officially consider you our new night shift guard. And I hope you’ll stay with us for many years.”
I nodded and smiled at the flattery of an employer wanting me to work a great job for them for a long time. I’d never had a dog, but those milestones were well-known among anyone who knew animals, especially dogs. The first three days, the dog is getting to know its new digs, exploring, and decompressing. At three weeks, they’ve gotten used to their environment and are starting to get comfortable with their surroundings and the routines of the humans they live with. By three months, they know the rules and follow them, they trust you, and they feel they are where they’re meant to be. I could only hope to be so lucky.
I saw the ghost two days ago and she has yet to make another appearance (for those who are curious, I asked, and her name is Leila), and I still hadn’t seen any animals. I did hear one, though, I feel compelled to note. A growling roar sounded from the lake on occasion, echoing across the vast zoo, sending a shiver down my spine. Whatever that animal was, it sounded gigantic.
Andrew said there was apparently a group that wanted to visit for a birthday and they were offering a huge donation, so he let me know they were making an exception and that this group would be walking through the park that night. That meant I’d be watching people watching animals that, as far as I could tell, weren’t there.
It was anticlimactic. Even the three people who came for the tour just looked like people, not like aliens or something eldritch from another dimension, and I stayed in the security office the whole time. Andrew was the one giving the tour. I watched them spend about five minutes at each enclosure, the hour or so that they were there passing without incident. It was clear that they were able to see all the animals, though, since they motioned excitedly at each enclosure and spoke to Andrew, who presumably answered any questions they had.
If they could see the animals, that was that. There was still that niggle in the back of my head, from my twenty-three years of life never encountering anything like ghosts or cryptids, telling me that this was ridiculous. Waiting for someone to knock on the door, a camera mounted on their shoulder, to tell me that it was a big joke and they wanted to see how long I’d play along. But from all I saw, this was a real place with real, invisible animals.
I do carry a taser and pepper spray in my capacity as a security guard. Though it isn’t for the animals, since they’re in the enclosures; they’re actually for the rare instance of a break-in. Andrew mentioned that it had happened several times it the past, someone trying to steal an animal in the hopes of selling it on the black market. They’d been successful before, but apparently my predecessor Roger was good at his job, and mostly they left in handcuffs.
I’ll be honest, I’m not a huge fan of confrontation, but my job was to call Andrew and then confront the person, not kick their ass. That’s what the police were for, or rather, the people Andrew would call in lieu of police in certain situations.
Fifty bucks an hour. That’s the key here.
Andrew hadn’t set up direct deposit, since he was sticking with a strategy of waiting to see if I’d continue to work there once I found out myself dealing with the animals (I’ve decided I am going to just call them animals). Instead, I got an old-fashioned check after my shift every Friday. The number on the first check was delightful. I went out that evening and had a big dinner at the local diner, order my most expensive favorites on the menu and a big slice of pie for dessert.
When it came to the paychecks in general, though, I had this weird feeling of not wanting to tell my dad and brother about the fact that it was actually $50/hr. I previously mentioned that my dad, his name’s Nathan if you’re curious, works at a local grocery store. Our town has a couple food franchises, but I think its size is just short of whatever threshold Walmart uses to decide where to open. He earns $14/hr. and that’s after the tiny raises he’s gotten over the past thirteen years.
That’s not to say he’d feel bad about not making as much as me. On the contrary, he would be ecstatic for me and really proud. But, like me, he’d be suspicious. That hourly rate was the biggest hint that this was more than just a private zoo for cryptids. And as soon as that fat check cleared without problems, my dad wouldn’t be satisfied with reassurances; he’d want to come visit the zoo and look around.
I’d told him it’s a private preservation with scheduled (expensive) visits only and that it had only eleven animals, so he’d been appeased by me brushing off the idea of a visit. Also, I took a few photos of my workplace; one of the security room, one of me sitting in my chair, one photo of the many screens I watched, and a selfie where I was feigning sleep out of boredom, slouched in my chair with my mouth open in a faux snore. That let him feel like he knew where I was and what I was doing, and that I was safe.
But if I told him I was making double what he thought, my father would practically order me to quit. No job was worth my safety, he’d tell me. I was quite of the opposite opinion, however, considering how crucial any and all conservation efforts were these days. Especially with the steep extinction levels due to humans competing with other animals for space, not to mention climate change. Working in any job that helped preserve species and keep ecosystems in balance, or put them back in balance, was so important.
Then again, my father would also point out something I had realized right away: the fact was that I was working with endangered species that were not from Earth. I wasn’t helping my planet. To be honest, though…that didn’t matter to me. Especially after that talk with Andrew about why he hired a human for this job, I figured whichever dimension these animals came from had the equivalent of us, razing forests to the ground, clouding the planet with pollution, and leaving the animals with no avenue of recourse when yet more land was taken from them.
I really do hope to keep working here for a long time, though, and not just because of the money. I can’t help it; I want to know what these things were, and I want to work with them, to do the job of a zookeeper. The same way you go up to the chain-link fence to get close to a carnivore on the other side who thinks you’d make a nice afternoon snack. You just want to be closer to them, to experience that incredible, daunting feeling of being in their presence.
Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t long before I got what I wanted.
The day after we had the tour go through, I was doing my sweep when I saw the ghost again. She was sitting on a small boulder in the same area I’d seen her the first time, looking identical, blood covering the front of her slashed shirt, the wounds visible underneath. I stopped and stood there for a moment before I decided to raise my hand in a small wave.
The young woman cocked her head at me and raised a hand in the air in an imitation of my gesture, her expression showing a bit of curiosity.
She was low-key, seemingly not concerned with my presence, looking at me as a novel phenomenon in her world. I wondered what that world consisted of. Was she always here, sometimes visible and sometimes not? Or did she have another world next to ours, in the ether, where she left everything in this world behind and floated in her disembodied form? Did she still feel emotions? Was that really curiosity on her face, or was I projecting? Did she feel happiness? Fear? Did she have the option of moving on, or was she stuck here?
Many questions that I might never get the answers to. And that was assuming Andrew knew the answers, since I’d never met Suzanne Cooper and he hadn’t even mentioned that possibility. This place was clearly her baby, but I’m sure running it was a lot of work. Plus, if she was rich enough to own it, she was rich enough to have other businesses and charities to run.
When it comes to the enclosures, they’re all wrapped by a barrier of some kind, though never one that seems adequate. There was not a single place with the ugly metal weavings of a chain-link fence, and no stretches of circular razor wire. Instead, there are nice fences. Black iron, or wrought steel fencing in a similar style to the one circling the perimeter of the zoo, just shorter and with different patterns. Or a spaced picket fence, the wood stained in some tone of brown, or a split two-rail fence. As if to say, ‘This is the border of your enclosure, but we’re just letting you know out of courtesy.’
When I started to pass enclosure number seven last night, a young woman’s voice spoke, “Hello.”
I startled, unaware that I hadn’t been alone. “Oh. Hi,” I said, staring at her standing a few yards in.
She had been next to a large tree and I hadn’t seen her. This enclosure was behind a picket fence, and she walked through the large area of wild grasses and flowers that stretched across the other side of the fence. There were fewer tall grasses closer to the fence, which I guessed was because it had been tromped down by her regular pacing along it when there were visitors, or if she wanted to see the various enclosures of the zoo. Her sudden appearance was a bit weird, considering I had been expecting to see a cryptid and instead I was looking at, it seemed, an attractive Asian woman.
She wore a black kimono, the soft silk robe draped gently over her body, with beautiful patterns of cherry blossoms, more so over her left side, and red and blue birds with their wings spread. A sash wrapped around her abdomen, she wore socks and sandals on her feet, and her hair was up in those rolls that gave volume to the style.
I was no expert on any fashion, much less that of another country, so I just assumed it was all traditional Japanese clothing. Most likely, the visitors who came liked to see a certain time-honored style and that’s what she stuck with. Or maybe she played on stereotypes. That would be amusing.
“I’m Yui. It’s nice to meet you,” she spoke, arriving at the border of the fence and holding out a hand for me to shake.
I’d been standing about three yards away from her, and I’ll be honest, muscle memory tried to kick in. But I only made it two steps, my hand starting to rise, before I froze, the hand falling limply at my side. “Nice to meet you, too,” I answered, my voice quiet.
Damn. I wonder how many times that honey trap works back where she comes from.
The pleasant look on her face faded, and she lowered her hand. “You won’t shake hands with me? Isn’t that rude?”
“I mean, I kind of like my hand where it is. You know, attached to me.”
Her demure smile widened into something more amused. “I would never do something so revolting.”
Looking her up and down, as if more visual information would give me more knowledge of what she was, I asked her, “What would you do?”
“I would be less wasteful,” she said softly.
A finger of ice trailed down my spine, and I had the sudden image in my head of her grabbing my outstretched hand in an iron grip and yanking me over the fence, leaving me to sprawl on the ground. Then killing and consuming me efficiently, without a single careless step, the same way humans slaughtered pigs, using everything from the hog but the squeal. I was struck with a shiver at the idea of her consuming everything from me but my screams.
Slowly, I took one step further down the path, then another. Just as I got to a walking pace, though, I realized the woman had started walking too, in the same direction. I’d have eventually gotten to the end of her enclosure and keep going, leaving her behind, but she spoke up. “Are you leaving?”
I came to a stop, meeting her gaze again. “My job is to walk the zoo every hour. Then I’ll get back to the security room and stay there until my next walk.”
“Have you met the others yet?”
I hesitated before saying, “Just Leila.”
She blinked languidly. “That means nobody welcomed you here.”
“Andrew did.”
She didn’t reply to that. Instead, she slowly started to lean forward, and I flinched backward a few steps further as I saw insect legs start curling out from her back.
No. Not insect. Arachnid.
The eight legs ended in small ‘paws’ with tiny claws, a layer of hairs covering the leg from top to bottom, like any typical tarantula. I took two more slow steps back and my mouth went dry as the jointed legs just kept lengthening, until they were large enough to lever her off the ground.
My gaze had been on the spider legs, but my heart skipped a beat as I realized her human legs had melded together and turned into a bulging abdomen. Her skin was shifting to a carapace, eventually all the way up to her shoulders and down her arms, her fingers elongating and her nails stretching to claws. From there down, her body was that of a pale tarantula with pedipalps the size of my arms and piercing fangs in her jaws that looked like they could take my head off.
There was a moment, my vision blurring, where I was worried that I might piss myself. The part of my brain that still had its humor intact in that moment told me that I should keep an emergency set of clothes in my car, or at the very least, start wearing Depends to work.
“I show you my true form,” she said softly, her voice now raspy like an eighty-year-old after a lifelong smoking habit. “Welcome to Suzanne Cooper’s zoo. The night shift guard for many years was Roger, before he retired and the zoo moved, and I miss him dearly. What should I call you?”
I choked on my words. There was no way my throat was going to cooperate enough for me to clearly get a sentence out. Instead, I realized my legs had taken control of the situation themselves, unsatisfied with my conscious brain’s decision to stand and stare, taking steps backward. I backed up a yard, then five yards, then ten.
My mind focused on the fact that spiders don’t waste anything, and pictured my demise. I’d be wrapped in a cocoon, killed, and made nice and mushy before she had me for dinner.
The whole time, my brain was a frenzied mess, my pupils were probably the size of dimes, and I was staring at that tiny, pathetic fence between her and me. There was so much adrenaline pumping through my body that I felt like my bones were vibrating. The fence was, to my eyes, the only thing between us. The only thing keeping her from tackling and killing me. My only hope was that she’d do it quickly.
But she didn’t move. As I absorbed her innocent, polite words, the look on her face was calm, and I wondered if this was typically the way a conversation went before she devoured her prey. I wondered how many people she’d eaten. Not humans, not people from Earth, but the ones from where she came from. The fact that she doesn’t scare the shit out of those people means they’re staggeringly dumber than humans.
Finally, I rounded a corner, both relieved at having her out of my sight and worried that she would take that moment to come find me. When she’d been within eyeshot, I had at least known where she was and could run in the other direction. But I didn’t hear the sound of faint footsteps moving rapidly toward me. All was quiet, in that deep, smothering way that only an empty business in the middle of the night in small town America could be.
My hands trembling, I barely paid attention to anything but the confirmation that my surroundings were free of the colossal spider as I finally got back to the door. Grabbing the handle and letting my eyes dart around for about ten seconds and my ears prick for the slightest sound, I finally swiped my key card across the pad and went inside, shutting the door behind me and engaging the backup deadbolt.
Maybe that was why they had decided on keycards. If I was running from something and panicking, using an actual key or inserting the card like at a hotel would keep me from getting to safety considering my hands were shaking enough to mix a margarita.
Walking over to my chair, I fell into it, letting my body flush itself of terror as I looked up at the cameras. There she was, still in arachnid form, exactly where I’d left her behind that rinky-dink fence, casually looking around and slowly pacing back and forth. I stared at her as my racing heart gradually slowed, and a minute or so later she turned on her eight legs and walked back into the trees.
Whatever invisible fences the enclosures have apparently work, which is nice, because I wasn’t keen on getting killed by one of the creatures here. And that’s what brings me here, spilling out everything that’s happened so far. Because nearly passing out from terror isn’t something I wanted to deal with at work, obviously, but I keep going over what she did in my head again and again, and I feel like I reacted like a child who spotted a wolf spider on their bed. I started to worry for my overactive sense of self-preservation, at least in my capacity as an employee here.
The spider didn’t even try to hurt me, and so I was feeling a bit foolish. Even annoyed, actually, at the fact that I’d freaked out so hard and took off instead of trying to engage in at least basic conversation. I got the sense that she wasn’t at human-level intelligence, but I was never going to be able to hold any level of conversation with an alligator.
Sure, she did mention that she wouldn’t be so crass as to yank off my hand because she’d rather just have my entire corpse, but wouldn’t a wolf do the same if it was hungry? Wouldn’t any carnivore? Actually, they probably would’ve been satisfied with one of my hands. The fear here was from the fact that she turned into a giant spider. If she’d turned into Clifford, I would’ve reacted the same way, if not better than, meeting Leila.
With that, I decided I’m staying on the job. Considering how frustrated I can get with foolish people, it’s a bit hypocritical, and I’m being a bit of an idiot. But…there are definitely wards keeping them in their enclosures. Also, I signed up for creatures for another dimension, whether or not I believed in them at the time, and I will not let encountering my first one in an objectively boring way be the reason I quit.
The money is a factor, I’ll grant you. Of course it is. And I can’t spend it if I’m dead, but all signs point to surviving as long as I don’t do anything dumb. Also, yes, I’ll admit there’s a not-so-little voice in the back of my head that’s desperate to know what else is here. I never thought I’d do something like this, but finding out these things are real, I honestly do want to learn more about them.
Still, though, I decided to call Andrew at the end of my shift to ask if the pepper spray and taser I carried worked on a certain spider, as well as the other animals I’d yet to meet.
Previous

TW: childhood neglect and verbal abuse - me remembering so many things after last night's session. I just need to tell someone! I repressed this childhood since I moved out of my parents. It's like I died that day and moved on like a robot.
It is as though the illusion I've kept up for the past 24 years of me being always 'happy' and living a happy childhood just shattered entirely.
I have this diary I wrote in a lot in 2014, which is from exactly 10 years ago when I was 14. I cherished it a lot and sometimes would look into it to remember the old days. However, just last week I looked into it again after several months of being more focussed on my mental health (and especially on my childhood & parents.). This time, I saw something entirely different in this cute colorful happy diary.
All I see now, is how I was suffering. Suffering alone and always walking on eggshells. Nothing was ever good enough. Almost every page I refer to 'future me', the one who will understand me. I didn't get that from my parents. Old me, who will listen to how I am feeling and give me the comfort and soothing I so desperately needed.
I write about how I was completely exhausted from highschool, and then constantly bash myself with extremly self critical words. I have pictures of me in there with apologies for being ugly, and stories of 'how I didn't work hard enough'. Several pages describe forms of catastrophizing over the smallest mundane things.
In some pages, I casually mention a family member I dearly loved dying but then downplay it with something else. It's ups and downs by the sentence "It was my birthday yesterday, I had a great time! I am exhausted and drained and school is horrible. I did get a nice gift. I hope grandma stays alive" etc.
All this time I was happily keeping up this story of how happy I was. How I had such loving parents who where always there for me. They would shower me with gifts they could barely afford.
In my house, there were no rules. There was no bedtime. There was no structure - no breakfast together or chores I had to do. Everyone was jealous of me, because I was so free, but child and teenage me were constantly longing for someone to care.
I would be gone from home as much as I could. The atmosphere was so hectic. One day you'd come home to a happy loving mom who has all the patience and curiousity to hear about my day and my struggles. The other I would walk in and get scolded about how I was nothing. One day she was willing to help me with my feelings and emotions, but in other days she'd scold me for having them! I should be strong because according to mom, she's cyinic, and the world is 'angry and cruel. The world is unfair.' Now get up and don't wallow in your sadness and self-pity.
It's like they would give a gift sometimes, just to then call me ungrateful every day after. According to them I was unthankful, selfish, and my mom said I'd act as if the world revolved only around me. If I'd say "huh, I never said that?! I would never say such a thing?" she said "that is just what you think you are doing. But in reality, you're ruining it for everyone".
Eitherway, after going through the entire diary without skipping a page, I remembered I once made a video of my mom attacking me. I looked it up, and for the first time in 8 years I had the mental energy to watch it. My jaw dropped to the floor. I never even saw someone act so horrible before but it's me going through it....
t's like my world shattered. My mom was treating me absollutely horribly in this video. I don't even remember! You can see her face, and she is so scary! Here eyes look like pure hurt, as if she was throwing her own traumatic upbringing onto me and blaming me for it. She looks at me as if she's completely disgusted by me! The entire rant of hers is a complete mind trip where she downplays everything I say and spins it around as if I was just a burden who tried to make life for my parents worse.
I would never help with chores. Because, if I asked if she needed help, she didn't. I didn't have to do anything in the house but also did not know how to do anything. Then on other days she'd get angry I wasn't doing enough in the house and mention how our life should be about "giving and taking" and I should participate in that.
Now having read all of this, and watching some more video's of these attacks, I remember many things. How my parents would lock me up in the dark cold hallway because I had a "tantrum". They say it 'wasn't that long' but overstimulated and panicked todler me would bawl her eyes out. I felt so abandoned. In my life, alltogether, my strongest feeling is guilt. I feel guilty for everything. I feel shame. I feel ugly when I cry.
I only managed to teach myself how to release emotions in january this year. I never knew. I couldn't cry since years. When I finally managed this year, I'd notice I'd feel so ugly. My cries sound like my mom crying. She'd cry in our house regularly at some point. Really messy, really loud.
Because of constantly being told I wasn't doing enough, or that I didn't care, I wanted to please. I would muster up the courage and shun myself for how difficult and bad it felt to do so. I would ask her "mom, are you okay? Do you need a hug?"
She'd turn around on her desk chair and YELL. Loud. Screaming at me to get out of her face. Just get out of our life. This happened several times. I'd just walk away from the house. I felt so alone and unwanted. I never could do it right. My dad would just avoid my gaze.
Some days I would be begging my mom for a hug. Just for some attention. But she was so overstimulated that she couldn't even give me a touch. I would feel so lost and alone and just go outside and distract myself with imaginary games. I remember because of this, the moments where I would overheat my parents show off to parents of friends of mine how "I was such an easy kid" and how I could entertain myself and be happy for hours. The other parents would be jealous. I wouldn't know why this would make me cry
My life first going to school was just sheer terror. I felt so abandoned. Every time mom dropped me off I'd kling around her leg crying and screaming. Then afterwards, I wouldn't want to go home either. I remember how later in my childhood I still felt guilty for this behavior, because mom must have been so ashamed. I'd hang around teachers and daycare adults all the time. I wanted to hug everyone, because that was what I so desperately wanted.
My dad could never give hugs. Sometimes he'd allow it, but it would feel so distant. If my mom was starting to freak out about me, he'd sometimes intervere and call me to 'it's done now!' and 'go to bed'! No matter the time. I'd lay in my bed, just trying to curl up and feel somewhat comfortable.
In primary school, I would constantly visit friends. It continued in highschool too. I had two music classes and sports, so for four days a week I was settled after school - not having to go home immediately. Home didn't feel safe. It wasn't a constant. Some days there would be dinner at a nicely put dinner table and we'd eat together, some days I'd just eat some bread myself.
Some days mom would just be lying in bed. I found a video, that's why I remember. She would'nt get out until the beginning of the evening. This was in the time she would normally make me some lunch, or ya-know, take care of me. Suddenly I'd have to do everything alone.
I was constantly entertaining myself with imaginary friends at home. I'd play outside until I was 17 or so, alone. My cat was pure innocence and love but when I told my parents he was 'coughing' they didn't want to believe me. They only took him to the vet when it was too late and never apologized or were able to own up for this.
When I was 14 I wrote in my diary I was looking forwards to visit grandma. She's my mom's mom, and I would sometimes spend up to a week there just to be able to relax and be loved unconditionally. My mom would terroize me with her stress and anger and accusations to a point I couldn't focus on school. I wrote how she'd come into my room calling me names and how I couldn't read my homework papers through the tears.
My dad was never really there. He'd choose himself to be out of the house in the morning before mom and I'd be out and then when he was back he wouldn't make it further into the house than his TV chair. My parents would watch TV for hours when I was a kid. If I asked "what are you watching" they'd both go "Shhhh!". If I'd push it futher, the'd send me upstairs.
I feel like I spend so much time just hiding from my parents. Wheter it was upstairs in my bedroom all day, and night, or if it was outside. I now also remember just biking for hours crying hoping someone would stop and console me. I'd make the wrong friends and smoke weed at 16 just to stop the thoughts.
I would visit friends just because their house was calm and safe. I'd get a nice dinner there, and it would be a whole new experience. My parents would always be easily agitated. I am hyper senstive, hyper aware. I get uncomfortable just seeing them being uncomfortable. I remember I could already feel the energy from streets away. Sometimes I knew it would be wrong and I'd just bike somewhere else and go home later.
In one diary entry, I describe how my parents told me to write a letter to my dad's mom for her birthday. I finish the letter, and only then I allowed myself to take a shower and take care of myself. I would rot in bed, and rot in my dirty hair for days, just like mom. On other days she'd be so happy, she'd be re-decorating the entire house, invite me to go rollerskating.
But I also remember how many times my parents threatened to throw me out of the car. I remember how my 'reaction' to whatever they 'gave me' would never suffice. Then I would be the bad guy, for not being thankful.
My parents, they did everything for me. They paid for everythingg. Ya-da Ya-da, but I never had a proper hug from my dad. I don't know why he's even with my mom. I think he's a fun dude, but he's in mental pain. My mom told me way too young how her trauma's affected her. My dad's childhood would always be an excuse that I had to empathize with when I asked mom as a kid "if dad really loved me".
Other memories involve me running upstairs and then one parent following me. I don't remember getting hurt physically, but I remember all my life the pain I can see in their eyes.
If I look at pictures from my teenage years now, I can finally see the depression in my eyes. It took me up until this year to finally understand that having a clean kitchen and bathroom is something you do because you think you are worthy of a clean space. I had to get out of a depressionhole again over the years many times. I now realize the constant self critisism should have been self love. So that I would feel worthy of taking a shower and brushing my teeth.
I now see how what I saw as 'good experiences' are mostly just my parents taking me somewhere to do some activity and it just fits the perfect family picture. I was their only child but we'd celebrate christmas with many, many presents for me. But once my grandparents didn't live anymore, the birthday parties and tradition celebrations weren't hosted anymore by my parents. I wonder for who they truly did it. I was a golden child, but later in life I was just a burden.
I moved out the first chance I got. They didn't stop me. I was barely 17. I got into partying and drug abuse. I would sleep for weeks in bed. Barely ate. Then I would drag myself out of it again and have missed my mom's birthday. I was the one ruining the relationship to them.
I realized last year my parents had not called me for over 7 months. That was the first time I cried since the last time I did as teen. It's always coming from me.
My depression, my axieties and the treatment my parents gave me were never seen. It was never validated until I could finally read my diary with new eyes and watch those videos. I never got professional help but I will look for this now. I am really longing for someone to tell me what I was going through wasn't normal.
I did not remember this until yesterday, BUT, I am so used to being called weak, sensitive, a cry-baby, a bitch, for telling my mom how her verbal abuse made me feel. I feel so weird, how I repressed all of this for so long and the past years I tried so hard to still visit them and give them hugs and they felt good and now it all just feels fake and weird again.
Well yeah, so this is about everything that's been on my mind today. I feel totally weird. It's a tuesday and I couldnd't even work today. I am lost.

I have been married for 6 years now and we have a 1 year old and I am pregnant with our second and last baby. Before we had our 1 year old, I was always in charge of throwing, paying, and setting up any party. Including my own birthday parties. My husband is hard to get to help with the labor that is involved with throwing a party. He grew up in a house where it was acceptable for men to not help with anything around the house. I usually just give up and do everything by myself because it's easier and just bug him with tasks I can't do myself. We usually only invite our immediate family too and their families.. but since we are hispanic, that is well up to 50 ish people. So HUGE party everytime. Anyways, the last party I threw was my 1 year olds 1st birthday and just as always I was doing everything my self, except this time I was tired. I was also chasing around a toddler who was learning to walk while setting up EVERYTHING. I was so fed up I fought with my husband and demanded he helped. He eventually did, but it was like pulling teeth. So we had our party, it was great, lots of memories, but I told him I will NEVER throw another party again! We are simply taking our kids somewhere fun on their birthday just the 4 of us moving forward. He panicked and said he will help next time..... yea right. I said no, I'm done and our kids are too little to care, so we will take them somewhere fun and do our own mini bday.
My husband pleaded with me and said he wants to have these parties because his mom wants to attend our kids bday parties. To which I said she is more than welcome to throw one at her apartment and we can go for two hours, blow out candles, then go home. He said no, that is not enough, and that he will help moving forward.
I am absolutely done planning, prepping, and paying for a party that is seemingly to make other people( not our kids) happy.
I'm expecting his family to take this as I'm some mean daughter in law.. but I'm just too tired to care.
What is the right thing to do here? I could care less about what will make his mom happy, because frankly our kids birthdays are not about her. But I am not sure if I will regret not having those little parties and the pictures/memories.
Anyone have an experience that is similar or can give me advice?

I have a girl friend since childhood who, as it seems as we approach our 30s this year, is cutting off me and other long time friends because we are in relationships. A little background, we've had our ups and downs especially in our teen years because she was always hyper competitive with me, but she is a good friend with a big heart. I feel closer personality to my friends I've met in adulthood but I cherish our long term friendship and now that we live halfway across the country, I'm conscious about putting in more effort to maintain our friendship. However, it seems like she has started to cut off me and our other mutual childhood friend because we found partners. I've been dating a great guy for almost a year and our other friend got married 2 years ago. Both of us are independent outside our relationships, we don't just talk about our partners or invite partners to everything.
My friend stopped replying to our text threads and offers to Facetime etc, just no response in months. My friends live near each other, and the friend (without the partner) had a birthday party and invited a bunch of people, and didn't invite our mutual (married) friend. I didn't recognize a the people, so I creeped on their IGs and a lot of them have posts all about being happy being single or not needing a man (which is valid too.) I sent my friend a birthday gift as well as a personal gift because she recently bought a house, which is a huge accomplishment I'm proud of her for. She never acknowledged either gift --I checked the tracking images and it was delivered. I think this is rude and ungrateful, but it's not the reason I will end a friendship.
I've noticed my friend has made more and more bitter comments about people in relationships. She visited me and before she even met my boyfriend, she asked why he was still single in his late 30s (we are about 8 years apart), in a smug way. (And on that trip I introduced her to my bf, but we had plenty of days of JUST girl time). She commented after another friend's wedding "they're gonna have problems in their marriage", and said about one of our friends who got her first boyfriend "it won't last, it's her first bf." These comments don't feel very supportive and I feel like she's becoming jaded. Unfortunately my friend has not had great luck in the dating world and I know she wants to get married and have kids. Her taste in men hasn't been great, but I know she craves the kind of stable, career driven partner my friends and I have. And I'm not unsympathetic to the pros and the cons of being single at this age, I know it can be harder to not have a partner, whether financially or emotionally. I've lived on my own (still do), done the dating apps scene, etc., it's not like I would ever dismiss her for being single or her dating struggles
I worry in your 30s this is the dreaded "friends go separate ways" or separate paths type situation, which I don't want to happen (makes me so sad). I do see there starts to be more of a schism between people who have partners or are planning for kids, than those who don't, but it can't be insurmountable! Has anyone experienced similar with a friend with a jealous or bad attitude about friends partnering up? Will time help heal any issues and she'll come back around or should I be trying to do more with the friendship?

Sylvia https://imgur.com/gallery/GK6ShZQ

Sylvia Rhodes

"One whom strives is one whom succeeds.."

Age: 15
Birthday: August 22, 2024
Godrent: Triton , Leiutenant of the sea..
Identity: Female (she/her), straight ally

Appearance:

Ebony skin, she always wears her hair in fashionable dreads with silver beads strewn through it. Heterechromia: One bright blue eye and one interestingly red-pink eye. No one can explain where it comes from. She has a scar down, diagonal, through her red-pink eye, she covers it with makeup often. Sylvia has snakebite piercings on either side of her bottom lip, that she switches out for shiny metals often, as if changing clothes. Her hair kind of moves like water.

Personality:

Bratty rich girl - She gets what she wants, doesn't matter how she has to achieve it. If she wants it, it's her's. She gets angry easily and is good when it comes to manipulation and playing the victim. She's a bully, you're different? Weirdo. Kind of bully.

Family:

Kira Rhodes: mother, famous model and ex-olympic swimmer, gives her daughter whatever she wants, 39
Triton: father, never met him, hopes he's cool (and possibly hopes he'll give her something if they ever reunite), Greek god
Naomi Rhodes: Kira's wife, stepmom, spoils Sylvia as well, 35, filmstar
Cerberus: her little black lab puppy, 3 months old, not the actual cerberus

Powers:

Weapons:

Trident - "it's pretty and practical, okay, darling?" High heel - "look, they're always there. It makes sense."

Background...

Sylvia was 13 when her mother had to tell her the truth, who her father was.
Sylvia had, unironically, drenched a saleswoman in water from the mall fountain when the woman tried to touch her. Of course; Sylvia doesn't like that. No permission? No access. That's how she works. So of course she did not take kindly to a 'lowly salesperson' grabbing her 3,000 dollar faux-fur jacket.
When her mother explained everything, it seemed that everyone was in the loop. Her mom, her maid, her stepmom, everyone but her. But whatever.
Sylvia was born on one of the Caribbean islands and her and her mother moved to California when her mom stopped representing the Bahamas in the Olympics. That was when her mom's job took off like a rocket. And there she was, the rich, pretty, smart, popular girl at school who came from abroad (or about abroad at it can bs counted) and whose mom(s) were famous. Everyone wanted to be her, or with her, or something like that.
When she was 12, she'd gotten into a bad accident resulting in her scar. And she's ashamed of it.
Then, one of those 'stupid dog penguins' attacked Sylvia while she was at a beach party her school was hosting. Then her moms whisked her away to camp, where she was left to, as she put it, shrivel up and die.

Present...

Sylvia stood at the edge of camp, wearing her baby blue tank-top crop-top and gray jeans with her (3,000 dollar) faux-fur jacket. Her blue heels weren't sinking in the dirt, yet.
She flicks her dreads over her shoulder and starts to walk into camp, standing tall and walking proud. Her while suitcases were all attached to eachother aside from her purse, which hung from her shoulder whilst she dragged the suitcases. She was not happy about this, but atleast her parents allowed her to pack whatever she wished.
So now she made her way down the hill, her silver ring shimmering with a seafoam green sheen. Of course, her Trident was hidden within it.

This is my first reddit post, although I have been a long time lurker of many subreddits. I am 23 years old and an only child. I am not a native english speaker, so please forgive any weird formatting or any spelling/grammar mistakes.
As the title states, my mom died ... and I am currently writing this to try and process this whole situation. I've tried to section all the paragraphs in chronological order, to make reading easier. Sorry for the extremely long post - I just needed to get it all out.
We only just celebrated her 60th birthday back in february. She did all the cooking, cleaning and planning without any trouble - even down to picking out the perfect napkins and flowers for her white and gold theme.
My mother was without a job. She had been jobless for almost 2 years now, after she was fired from her old cleaning job due to frequent sick days because of stomach cramps and pain. She was seen by a doctor back in 2022 for her stomach aches, and they found no physical cause - hence why we concluded it must've been due to stress. The stress and stomach pains subsided after she'd been fired. So we thought no more of it.
In march she was doing a 4-week internship in a local supermarket to see if she might've been a good fit for a permanent paid position. This is common practice for unemployeed people here in Denmark.
My mother started having stomach pains again during this internship, soon followed by back pains as well. She figured this was due to her spending most of the day sitting as a cashier in an uncomfortable position. My mother wasn't very tall, so she had trouble reaching the floor pedals that control the cashier conveyer belt.
In the beginning of april, she went to the doctor. Her stomach and back pains hadn't gone away although the internship was over. Her doctor also concluded it was most likely due to her uncomfortable working position, and that it would pass in a few weeks time. The doctor did some bloodwork, and found that she was severely lacking vitamin D, but nothing else seemed concerning at the time.
In the middle of april, her pains had only gotten worse, and she went to the doctor again. Her doctor did more bloodwork, and did a phisycal exam of my mothers stomach. Her doctor ordered a CT scan to check for anything serious.
19th of april. I accompany my mother to the hospital for her CT scan. We get told that we'll have the results in a week or so. My mother is not looking good when I pick her up at the bus station. She is more pale than usual, and has trouble walking at her usual pace.
23th of april. My mother received a referral to a meeting at the hospital with a doctor and nurse, to discuss the results of the CT scan. This referral is sent from the hospitals cancer department. My mother and I speak on the phone, she is concerned, but I tell her that this type of referral must just be standard pratice, and that she shouldn't worry untill we have spoken with the doctor. I cried that night.
25th of april. The day before her meeting with the doctor, I received a phone call from my mother. She tells me that she had fallen while at home, but that I shouldn't worry. I, of course, worry.
I pack my things and leave for my mothers house, I live an hour away by bus. When I finally arrive my mother seems okay-ish, but the house is another story. My mother is normally known for being a clean freak, and her house has always been clean and organized, But it wasn't anymore.
Her kitchen was a mess, and the dishwasher hadn't been empited or loaded for at least two weeks. Her bathroom is even worse, and I won't even begin to describe the state of the toilet it self. It is a sight that will horrify me for the rest of my life. I cleaned everything, while my mother rested.
My mother had also started sleeping on the guest bed, saying her own was too uncomfortable for her.
While cleaning the bathroom, my mother wakes up. Despite her state, she says she wants to help. But before I can even tell her no, my mother has another fall. Her legs essentially just crumble beneath her, and she falls backwards and lands head first on the floor. We argue back and forth about calling an ambulance, but she refuses to let me - so I don't, even though I should have. I guess I still respected my moms authority too much.
My mother lives alone, as my parents are divorced (they are very good friends though). My mother refuses to let me call my dad and tell him about this whole situation. She is stubborn and too proud to admit defeat.
26th of april. We take a taxi to the hospital. The taxi driver has a help my mother into the car. During the carride my mother says very little, but seems slightly delirious and very tired. When we arrive at the hospital, I quickly borrow a hospital wheelchair for my mother. She is almost unable to walk unassisted at this point.
After waiting for a while in the waiting area, a nurse comes and guides us to a meeting room. My mother is very tired at this point, and still delirious, and I have to handle most of the conversation with the doctor.
The CT scan results showed Pancreatic cancer. The cancer had already spread to her liver and abdomial cavity.
I had read about this cancer a few days prior, trying to figure out what was wrong with my mother. I knew what this meant, and I knew that it was effectively a death sentence. The doctor told us that an operation was out of the question, since the cancer had already spread. And due to the clearly weak state of my mothers health, chemo would also not be offered, as it would finish her.
I told the doctor of her two falls and the state of her home, and that she would not be safe on her own. The doctor had her admitted to a nearby bed department for stomach- and gastrointestinal surgery patients.
The hospital did a ton of bloodwork on my mother when she got admitted, and everything was off. All numbers were either too high or dangerously low. My mothers health was in fact so bad, that I was told she was a heart attack risk. I was also told that if a heart attack happened, she would not be brought back - as it would only prolong a very short and painful life.
I called my dad.
27th of april. My mother slept most of the day.
28th of april. My mother had another fall during the night, trying to get to the bathroom.
29th of april. My dad shows up to the hospital. He wasn't able to get off work until now, as he works in the other end of the country. He is shocked to see my mother in this state. We are told once again by a different doctor that nothing can be done. They are looking into getting her a spot at a nearby hospice.
The rest of the remaining week is spent in hospital. My dad and I are by my mothers side every day. She doesn't leave her hospital room, apart from a few times a day for a smoke break outside. My dad and I take her outside in a wheelchair, which she needs help to get in and out of.
Her bloodwork is showing some slight improvements, but she is still having trouble with infections and receives a lot of antibiotics. She eats like a mouse, but drinks a lot of fluids.
My mother is often very confused or tired most days. She gets referred for an MR scan, to see if the cancer has spread to her brain, or if one of her falls has caused permanent damage. Lucikly the MR scan shows that nothing is wrong with her brain.
She gets confused about her diagnosis a few times, thinking that she had brain cancer instead due to the MR scan. I have to remind her a couple times about what the doctor actually said.
6th of may. My mother seems to have stabilized somewhat so my dad has gone back to work.
7th of may. I get told by the hospital staff that my mother is to be transferred to a different hospital, which is one hour away. I become very upset by this news, and unfortunately yell at one of my mothers nurses in frustration. I yell at her that It'll be harder for me to get to my mother in time if something were to happen. I am ashamed of this childish behavior, as the transfer was the best desicion for my mother in hindsight.
I leave with my mother as we get transferred to the new hospital and their department of palliative care.
I am very ashamed by my behavior to my mothers old nurse, as this department for palliative care was truly the best place for my mother. She seemed very satisfied and happy to have been transferred. They have a large garden with wild flowers, and lovely staff. And my mother got a much bigger room all to herself. She also meets with their physical therapist, who helps my mother relieve some of her pain.
My mother and I have dinner together in the evening in her hospital room. My mom is her old self, although with some delayed speaking. I unfortunately have to rush a bit when leaving, as to not miss my bus home, so I quickly say goodbye to her and leave.
8th of may. In the morning on my way to the new hospital, I received a phone call from her new doctor. My mothers liver has suddenly started to fail due to the cancer. When I arrive, she is asleep. I am told she wont wake up again.
I called my dad, but he wont arrive until the evening, due to the distance from his workplace.
I spend most of the day in my mothers hospital room, listening to her sleep. She occasionally attempts to cough in her sleep, but it mainly just sounds like yells. It is terrifying. The nurses give her pain medication and some sleep medication to help her body relax.
My dad arrives in the late evening. We drive to my mothers house and stay the night there. We spend most of the late evening looking at pictures and scrapbooks of my mother, and packing a bag with clothes for her, for when she passes.
When prepareing the guest bed for my dad, we find a blanket that my mother slept on. It is stained, matching the previous state of the bathroom. We throw the blanket out.
9th of may. Mom is sleeping. Dad and I spend the day at the hospital, but we don't sit in her hospital room. It is too eerie and uncomfortable. We check on her occassionally. Towards the evening, her breathing becomes slightly more rapid and quick. But the nurses tell us to go home. There is no reason for us to sit by her side during the night - as it'll only make it worse for us.
10th of may. I wake at 6.12 am to my phone ringing. It is a nurse. My mother has passed away in her sleep at 6.05 that morning due to liver failure. My dad and I drive to the hospital. I am the first to see her body after the nurses prepared and dressed it in the clothing we picked.
(warning: the following paragraph may be slightly upsetting to some readers)
It it eerie and uncomfortable to see my mother like this. A symptom of pancreatic and liver cancers is that your skin will yellow. Something that I hadn't noticed in my mother till now. I cant help but think that she looks like a wax doll, although I feel horrible for thinking it. I finally touch her hand, after gathering the courage to, almost like I am afraid to distrub her. Her hands are cold, and only get colder as I sit by her side. I am supposed to say my goodbyes to her, and tell her how much she means to me, but in this moment I am speechless. I can't say anything, even on my mothers deathbed. I feels wrong to speak to a corpse. I should've said those things while she could hear them instead. I kiss her forehead before I leave the room.
17th of may. Funeral. The church and casket was beautifully decorated with colorful flowers, like my mother had requested. She didn't want anything white or depressing. I cried all the way through the funeral service, stopping only when it was time to carry the casket out. My dad on the left side, and me on the right, and some other family members behind us. Purple rain by Prince was played on the church piano as we carried the casket. I knew the casket would be heavy, but nothing prepared me for the sheer weight of that thing.
21th of may. Today. I don't really know what to think of my mothers death. Some days I almost forget that shes gone or that all this has been happening, until something reminds me of it.
In a way, I am thankful. Of course I didn't want my mother to die, but I'm glad that her suffering wasn't prolonged for months while she slowly withered away to cancer. And I'm thankful that my mother didn't live to suffer from alzheimers, like her own mother. And I am glad that if anything, my mothers death has brought my dad and I closer.
But at the same time, I am angry that she didn't get to live more of her life. She was only 60 years old, and should have had 20 more years at least. If she at least was 70, it might've been easier to lose her but I doubt it.
I think mostly of all the things she will miss out on, which saddens me the most. I am 23 and my mother wont get to see most of my life or my achivements. If I have kids, she'll never meet them, and she I get married, she'll never see it. My 24th birthday is coming up soon, and I don't know how I'll handle that day without my mother for the first time - or christmas for that matter.
I want my mom.

I (24F) am having issues with my friend group over the man (31M) that I picked. I’ll have to provide the long background story for context.
My friend group consists of several individuals. The specific few I will talk about I will refer to as “J” “M” and “A.” They are all (24F). J and M are a couple. These girls seem to have the strongest opinion about the ordeal. I met my friends in middle/high school. We didn’t become close until our college years. I love these people and we’ve gone on many trips and shared many experiences together.
In early 2023, I was asked out by a guy who frequented my place of work. He had apparently noticed me for some time. It is quite rare for me to “date,” but something about him gave me the sense I could trust him. He gave off good vibes overall. We went on a date a few days later and discovered we have everything in common. EVERYTHING. From our morals, values, hobbies, childhood upbringing, family dilemmas, favorite foods, love for traveling, etc. we are the same person in two separate bodies. The date was such a success and I knew then in my gut that he was going to be someone special.
Unfortunately, our beginning took a turn. We initiated dates back and forth that fell through due to valid reasons dealing with weather, conflicting schedules, etc. During this break between dates, he took the time to think if he was ready to start a new relationship. Although he liked me a lot, he was a little unsure unbeknownst to me. He’d been in several relationships before and they ended with him getting hurt whether they ended on good or bad terms. He was getting cold feet and didn’t know how to communicate that to me. He didn’t want to officially end it and he also didn’t want to lead me on so he said nothing for awhile. Although it wasn’t necessarily thought out, he was buying himself time until he knew how he felt (I learned all this later on). Then came about a month with no contact. During this time, he was dealing with family drama and I was becoming anemic. I eventually did need a blood transfusion. I mention this because that month apart went by fast and we didn’t have much time to linger over the thought of each other. I did notice he hadn’t reached out though. I’m certain now that he wouldn’t have ignored my messages had I sent any, but I was honestly waiting for him to reach out first. I was a little hurt to think that he had changed his mind and didn’t have the guts to tell me.
Sometime in that next month, when I returned to work after my hospital stay, I saw him at my job. I thought he saw me. He left and said nothing. I was actually devastated. He had been so kind and I didn’t know why he had a change of heart. At least he should’ve told me about it anyway. I decided that I was going to text him that night. I mentioned I had seen him at work, thanked him for the initial first date, apologized for not reaching out on my end, and I sort of wished him farewell under the assumption he wasn’t interested. It was very professional and I let him know that there were no hard feelings had he changed his mind. I was expecting some lame, typical excuse response if I even got one. He sent back this long text message apologizing, explaining himself, and asking me questions. He explained his fears and asked if we could start a “friendship” of sorts to keep a slow pace. There was chemistry of course, but he was afraid of me and now I was afraid of him. There was enough there to where we wanted to spend time together, but I needed to be sure I could trust him with my feelings and he also needed to be sure he could trust me with his heart. To this, I agreed to see him again.
We spent time going on casual dates and talking a lot. He became my friend. We talked a lot about what happened with the break over the following months. I told him how hurt I was and how communication is important to me. He understands the impact of going no contact abruptly. It has been entirely resolved and I also take responsibility in my part of not reaching out to him either. Ever since the break, he became consistent. We’ve talked every single day since. He was patient with me and I was patient with him. We earned each other’s trust and are now madly in love. It happened slowly and quietly. I have never met such a soft, kind, understanding, sensitive man. I am more myself with him than I ever have been before. If soulmates are real, then he is mine.
Now to the tea. Of course, my friends knew (most) all of this. I told them about the big events as they were happening. They were excited for me on my first date, they sympathized with me when he no longer reached out, etc. They were surely surprised when I decided to spend time with him again. I asked them to trust me. I didn’t think he was a bad guy. What happened was a mistake. As my man and I spent more time, my friend J would reach out asking me questions about him. I told only her about my concerns in the beginning. Back then, I was guarded and nervous to proceed, but it was something I knew I had to do. I had to find out for sure what kind of person he was.
Now, J, she’s a fireball. I love that girl, but I’ll admit she’s one to hold a grudge, keep score, and quietly judge. She’d never admit it. I made a mistake in choosing her as my confidant in those early days. I was looking for advice when speaking to her because I do value her opinion. She then went and told the other friends in my group, M and A included, about my man—what a bad person he seems to be, using her words, which frankly, are very different from mine. What makes me mad is she got to tell them about him, not me. Not even any of the positives either. This was all before they had even met him and they already didn’t like him. They had no problem scolding me for being with him.
Months down the road, I arranged a meeting for everyone. My friends thought a bar would be a great place. Still not sure about that. It was awkward. Nobody talked more than a few words. My man was shy and my friends didn’t really do anything to make him feel welcome. I was the only one babbling all night it seems like. You’d think that as time goes on, it’d be different. More meetings will help everyone be comfortable. Nope. Every time after was awkward. They haven’t spoken more than a few words to him at a time. It’s very “surface level” talk even now—a year later.
My last birthday had come around and J, M, and A took me out for drinks. It turned into a lecture session about how I seriously need to break up with him. They scolded me on “allowing a man to waste my time.” They criticized his career choice, our age difference, his “character,” etc. Mind you, this is based off of this one mistake and a few other things that I mentioned to J in private that were no longer an issue. I cried myself to sleep that night thinking I was going to have to break up with him to please them.
Of course, I couldn’t. They still invite him to events and friend functions out of politeness, but it’s always the same. They don’t acknowledge him. It makes me especially sad when my man makes comments like, “I’ve never seen so many shy people in one room” (He thinks my friends are just shy when they’re really just ignoring him). He’s printed out their pictures for our scrapbook and labeled them as “new friends.” I haven’t told him the truth and I probably never will.
A few months ago, J, M, me, and my man had plans to go to this local indie concert. Tickets are free. The concert was on a Friday. The next day, Saturday, was scheduled for my man’s nephew’s 2nd Birthday Party. His brother’s family would be traveling from out of town to celebrate their son. Well, things didn’t go according to plan. The brother decided to come a day early, the day of the concert. I should have cancelled the concert date then when I learned this news, but I told J and M we were still coming because my man still wanted to go. We figured we’d be able to sneak away since the brother had come by himself and wanted to come over and take a nap since he works odd hours. Well, my man’s dad dropped by and the brother didn’t take his nap as he’d planned. Now, having company over with expectations, I made the difficult decision to cancel with my friends last minute. I realize it is rude, but something came up. I didn’t see how we could go anymore.
My friends let me have it. J and M were so angry. They told me how rude we were and how disrespectful it was to their time to opt out of the concert which was free and in town by the way. There was also the two of them and they could have easily gone on a date. I think it would’ve been equally rude to leave our company or rush them out the door. I picked my battle. I should have gave them more notice, but I didn’t know we weren’t going until the last minute. It couldn’t have happened any other way. We fought over text for awhile. She accused me of being so different now, saying and doing things out of the ordinary for me. The truth is, I’m just growing up. J ended the conversation saying, “Well, we’re just going to stay mad.” She claimed to understand my circumstance, but she didn’t. We didn’t talk for weeks after.
I eventually got invited to a breakfast date to which I declined. I have been avoiding all of them for awhile. I keep getting “I miss yous” from J. She keeps asking when we’re gonna hang out next. It’s also true that J and M are now moving 4 hours away at the end of the month. My problem may solve itself. That does sound awful though. I feel like an asshole. I have not been a good or present friend lately. I’m so busy, tired, and I have no room for petty drama. I’m not giving up my friends yet, but I will gladly choose this boy over them. He’s given me more peace in one year than they have in five years.
My boy and I are now engaged. I told my friends the news. They said some nice things I guess. J texted to let me know “If I’m really happy, she’ll support me.” This would be nicer if it was coming from a concerned friend. To me, this whole situation feels controlling. It’s more than concern. There’s venom behind it. They don’t care about the wedding either. They don’t ask me fun questions or get excited when it comes up. When I eventually explained how he proposed, they seemed disinterested. I could tell they were judging the experience. When I finally showed J the engagement ring in person all she said was, “Take it off” in a snippy tone so she could try it on.
I’m so disappointed in my friends. I always wanted a big friend group and especially to share this big milestone with. I haven’t even gotten excited about wedding planning because I’m dreading going over the bridesmaids list. Anyway, if you’ve made it this far, thanks for listening. I definitely need to get this off my chest and outta my life. I can’t believe I’m losing my friends over a boy.

Who is Hanuman?

A popular character in Hindu mythology, Hanuman is known for his strength, trust, and selflessness. He is seen as a deity in Hinduism and is a major figure in the ancient Indian outstanding Ramayana.

Here are some of Hanuman's important features:

• Parents and Birth: The monkey king Kesari and the heavenly young Anjana are the parents of Hanuman. He is also regarded as the son of the wind god Vayu, who was involved in his being born. His birth is connected to a number of healing occurrences, and he often appears as possessing supernatural powers from an early age.
  
• Devotion to Rama: Lord Rama, the seventh incarnation of the god Vishnu, is the focus of Hanuman's unwavering devotion. In the Ramayana, he plays an essential part, supporting Rama in his mission to free his wife, Sita, from the know of the demon king Ravana. Central themes in Hanuman's story are his selfless service and loyalty.
  
• Supernatural Powers: Along with his amazing power and flight ability, Hanuman possesses a number of other supernatural talents. In various scenes of the Ramayana, his abilities are shown. For example, he uses his fiery tail to burn the city of Lanka, jumps across the ocean to reach Lanka, and brings the Sanjeevani herb to heal Rama's brother Lakshmana.
  
• Symbolism: Hanuman represents bravery, selfless service, and devotion (bhakti). He can always count on strength and protection. His appearance serves as an example of loyalty, humility, and the value of having faith in God.
  
• Festivals and Worship: Hanuman is highly revered in India and other countries where Hindus are found. He often appears as having a monkey face, holding a mace, and carrying a mountain in the temples that are devoted to him. The devotees celebrate his birthday, Hanuman Jayanti, with joy.
  
• Cultural Impact: Apart from his connection with religion, Hanuman has shaped Indian literature, art, and storytelling, among other facets of Indian culture. In the traditions of yoga and martial arts, he is also regarded as an inspiration.
  

In Hindu mythology, Hanuman is a revered and adored figure who embodies the perfect warrior and devotee thanks to his tales and attributes.
Read Also: The Son of Hanuman: A Story You don’t Know about Hanuman

Is Hanuman Still Alive in Kalyug?

Hanuman is seen as a Chiranjivi, or immortal, who has a destiny to live through the present time, known as Kalyuga, and beyond, according to Hindu belief and a number of scriptures. This belief is supported by multiple connections found in Hindu texts and customs:
Hanuman is one of the seven immortals, or Chiranjivis, who are thought to live until the end of the current age (Kalyuga). The Puranas are among the scriptures that mention the Chiranjivis, who are thought to have been endowed with life forever for certain purposes.

• Granting of Immortality: According to the Ramayana and other scriptures, Lord Rama himself grants Hanuman the gift of immortality. Hanuman was presented with this blessing in exchange for his steadfast devotion and support. Hanuman was given a guarantee by Rama that he would live as long as his name was chanted worldwide.
  
• Existence in Kalyuga: Many myths and tales from Hindu stories indicate that Hanuman is still alive and well in Kalyuga. Believers hold that he still walks the planet, often showing up in appearance or shadow, helping and guarding those who pray to him strongly.
  
• Temples and Experiences of Devotees: There are numerous Hanuman temples, including the Jakhu Temple in Shimla, the Sankat Mochan Temple in Varanasi, and the Hanuman Garhi in Ayodhya. These temples are places of great devotion where devotees feel his blessings and presence. Stories of healings and requests being granted are common among Hanuman devotees.
  
• Literary References: The belief in Hanuman's immortality is supported by a number of texts, including Tulsidas' Ramcharitmanas. The text highlights his enduring presence as well as his function as a protector and mentor for followers.
  

Even though it is a matter of faith, many Hindus find great meaning in the belief in Hanuman's immortality. Hanuman's lasting impact on Hindu culture and religious practice can be seen by his ongoing worship and the stories of his presence in modern times.

“We’re a meat family,” my dad would proudly tell strangers. He’d wait for the quizzical look, then launch into detail, starting with how many freezers we had, how long we could sustain ourselves on the contents. It was just his way of starting a conversation, which made sense when you considered that raising and home-killing animals for food was, for want of a better term, his life-long hobby. His prize possession was one of those industrial-sized vacuum sealers: you could put half a pig inside and wrap it in plastic so tightly that every wrinkle and skin fold waxed unreal with shiny detail.
If we hadn’t lived in a rural area, albeit semi-urbanised, I guess it would have been pretty weird. But the mostly farming-stock locals only found his extra enthusiasm a little bit odd.
When he wasn’t being a bit embarrassing talking about it, I never really paid much heed to his hobby. I had a child’s vaguely grateful awareness that though our family went through some lean financial times, our stomachs never suffered like some of the families around us. All the beef, pork, ham and bacon in those big old chest freezers passed down from his dad really could have fed us for years.
I should preface all this by saying that I wasn’t a particularly bright kid, though neither was I dumb. I didn’t fail badly at anything in school, I just never achieved beyond a pass. I didn’t know it yet back then, still quietly dreaming about being a ballet star or a dressage champion, but mediocrity was my destiny. And I think that’s why I got on so well with my Aunt Liz.
Liz was my dad’s live-in youngest sister. She was one of those women who get described as ‘bubbly’ — not really pretty, not really smart, not a lot going on besides just being… well, all Liz. But she was salt of the earth; kind, caring, and great with kids. She was the only person who would willingly mind my two older brothers, who fought like hellcats and caused more trouble than the whole last generation of my family combined. People would privately lament to my parents that it was a shame Liz didn’t have kids of her own, but dad would just shake his head and say Liz liked it that way – that all the fun of looking after kids is being able to give them back to their parents.
I guess she was like me; nice, but mediocre. Lovely, but somehow forgettable when she wasn’t doing something for you.
But when Liz left us, I couldn’t forget her.
In hindsight, it was pretty weird timing that we had a big fortieth birthday party for Liz right before she disappeared. She was radiant that night; she’d hired a local girl to do her hair and makeup, and it was honestly the first time I’d ever seen her look pretty. She’d even worn a push-up bra under a tight red dress, which flattered her very plump curves well enough that the neighbour’s farmhand was spotted disappearing into the woolshed with her for a snog. In my dawning awareness, that gave a plain girl hope: if Aunty Liz could get a guy at forty, maybe things would turn out okay for me.
Anyway, I couldn’t forget how her pink cheeks, her eyes, her whole self, glowed that night before Liz went to bed. She said it was the best birthday ever, and that she was very much looking forward to the next stage of her life.
Would I have done anything different, if I had known? If I had realised what, exactly, that next stage was?
The week after the party, Aunt Liz said she was going on a little holiday up north, to visit some old school friends. She packed her things – she didn’t honestly have that many – and drove her little orange mini out onto the main road. And with a wave of one fleshy hand, she was gone. Nobody really thought much of it when she didn’t call, because nobody rural had cellphones back then. And Liz was, as I said, somehow kinda forgettable when she wasn’t right in front of you.
When we hadn’t had contact for six weeks, Dad tracked down the land line numbers for their old school buddies. They were surprised to hear from him — Liz had never arrived, so they had just assumed she’d cancelled her visit. No-one had thought to check. I eavesdropped on the conversation, and it sounded for all the world like *they* had forgotten about Aunt Liz, too.
From there it became a missing person case. The local cops came and talked to all of us; the farmhand who’d been seen snogging her was briefly detained, then let go, dad got grilled at length, even my hellion brothers were questioned thoroughly to see if this was one of their wild and dangerous pranks gone wrong.
But everything was a dead end. Nobody knew where Liz was, or what had happened to her.
The remains of her old mini were found halfway across the country, burned out on a beach, on a derelict stretch of ragged, rocky coastline. The police assumed murder and combed the area for remains. But even the most expert divers couldn’t conquer the incredible undertow and fast-shifting seabed of that coastline to look for evidence, so none was forthcoming.
Eventually the cops collectively shrugged and said that there was really nothing more they could do unless more information suddenly came to light. The locals knew nothing, no witnesses had come forward, and the trail was cold. As far as anyone knew, poor aunt Liz had been murdered on some desolate beach, far away from her home.
It didn’t feel fair to me. She’d once mentioned wanting her remains buried on our farm, in the graveyard plot beside grandma and grandad.
So, in my grief, I went into her room to look for something of hers to bury beside them.
Like I said, Liz didn’t have many things. Her room was pretty spartan, and her wardrobe was mostly sensible farm stuff. There was one exception: she, like me, did like to read, and she had a pretty good collection of well-thumbed books. I think it’s the escapism – even the most mediocre girl can lose herself in the plot of some trashy romance novel, imagine there’s still hope of being swept off her feet by that handsome stableboy, his inexplicable yearning for chubby plain girls.
So I set myself the task of going through the books, to find the right one to bury in the graveyard plot.
Most of them were exactly what you’d expect, but some of them were racier than I was used to. I felt various parts of my body flushing and tingling, as I read breathless prose about calloused hands touching the softest flesh of the protagonist. Okay, if I’m honest with myself, I might have got a little *too* invested in my project at that point. But that was also why I persisted going through her entire collection, until I found the ragged paperback from 1970, entitled Tawny Sands. And inside that trashy cardboard romance cover, I discovered not the tale of Tawny Sands, but some carefully hand-cut, stitched-in pages. A handwritten story in my Aunt’s rounded penmanship: Memoirs of a Long Pig.
I read her story twice in a row, utterly gripped.
Aunt Liz was no Stephen King – heck, she wasn’t even the Goosebumps guy – but her story was gripping and compelling, and I couldn’t put it down. Even if I hadn’t known her, I think that would have been true.
The gist of it was that Liz, when she was sixteen, had discovered that our family had a very long history of eating what she described as ‘Long Pork’. It’s an antipodean term, anglicised from the Pacific Islands: human meat.
Like me, young Liz still had some hopes and dreams. In one of her many failed attempts to find a special talent, she’d taken up cooking as a hobby. Naturally, with our family’s overabundance of meat, she’d scoured the freezers in the shed for ingredients: the racks of ribs and stacks of pork chops, butcher-paper wrappings all neatly labelled with the first letter of the name of the animal they came from.
She found familiar meat from Rodney, one of the pigs that had been recently slaughtered, emblazoned with an ‘R’ in her father’s strong, blocky lettering. There were cutlets labelled ‘M’ for Mary, from one of the lambs she’d hand-reared, and ‘F’ for Ferdinand, the steer they’d killed the month before. But she couldn’t explain the many, many curious parcels of meat on one side of the huge freezer, all labelled ‘J’ – at least, not until she took it all out and assembled it as well as she could on the scoured concrete floor of the killing shed. A big, frozen jigsaw puzzle without the box, her best attempt to discover what kind of beast the pieces had come from.
The animal, she quickly realised, was a Long Pig. Her own Aunt Jenny, who had died the month before – just after her fortieth birthday.
Fortunately, or perhaps not, for Liz, her father entered the shed right at that moment and realised his daughter had discovered the family secret. He sat down calmly on the lid of the freezer, and explained to her that this was a long-running family tradition, dating back to at least before his grandfather had been born.
“There are always people in life, Liz,” he’d said, “who won’t really amount to much. They want to be useful, want to be more. They strive and they strive, trying job after job, hobby after hobby, trying to hit on something they’re really good at. Something that makes them special. Those people can waste their whole lives, chasing dreams that never come true. Eventually they die unfulfilled, knowing that all their time has been wasted. That what they leave behind will fade quickly.”
His voice was oddly gentle as he leaned down and patted one of the neatly wrapped cuts of Aunt Jenny, still sitting frozen on the shed floor.
“Your Aunt Jenny was one of those people. So was my Aunt Irene.” He paused to gaze at his daughter, his next words peppered with emphasis. “But you see, my sweet Liz, they did find a purpose in life. They did find a way to be special, and they left this world utterly certain of their gift.” He stood up, stretched his back. “Let me show you.”
Liz waited while my grandad meticulously stacked the meat back into the freezer, all but one J-marked parcel that looked for all the world like a thick venison steak. He took her back to the farmhouse, and reverently unwrapped the deep red, heavily marbled meat to let it thaw. Then he laid it in the family’s ancient, cast-iron pan, basting it with butter and rosemary until a heavenly scent filled the kitchen, and Aunt Liz couldn’t stop her mouth from watering.
“Just try it. Let her show you. You’ll see exactly what I’m talking about.”
Even though she knew it was her aunt, Liz couldn’t stop herself from taking that first bite. There was something transcendent about the smell, overriding her natural revulsion that this was human meat, not one of their farm animals. For the first time, she truly realised it: we’re just another kind of animal. And weren’t her memories of Mary the lamb almost as fond as her memories of Aunt Jenny?
Liz explained then, in her curly handwriting, the explosion of taste that had assaulted her when she tried the steak. It was tender, it was succulent, it was rich beyond imagining. The fats melted on her tongue, lingering somewhere between pork and beef, but oddly neither. The flavour of the meat defied identification; something familiar, yet not.
But one thing she couldn’t deny; it was the most delicious thing she had ever eaten. Tears dripped onto her plate, mingled with the juice, the grease — not grief, but a pure, real, giddy delight.
“You’re tasting your aunt’s love for this family,” my grandad explained. “Her entire life was carefully curated, to eventually make unforgettable moments for us, just like this. This was her way of being special. This was the greatest gift she could possibly bring to our world – and because she realised that, she died with not a single regret. She knew her life had purpose. She was perfectly, completely fulfilled.”
I felt those words. I felt them lodge in my own belly, settling uncomfortably deep. I knew Aunt Liz, probably better than anyone else in the family. I’d seen how fucking happy she’d been on her fortieth, how goddamn fulfilled she was, despite apparently being a *nobody* and achieving *nothing*. Somehow, in the space of a single day, she had gone from being a forgettable background character to becoming the *main character*, immortalising herself in our family’s history with her sacrifice. Quite literally becoming part of all of us, forever.
I went to the killing shed after I finished with the book. I looked inside the freezers.
But there were no vacuum-sealed packages labelled ‘L’, no matter how deep I dug into the frozen stacks of plastic-wrapped flesh. Panicked now, not sure if I wanted to connect all the dots or unconnect them, I tried to think back over the last few months, recall any meals that had been unusually good. A few Sundays ago, we’d had a stew that really hit the spot and left me craving more. And I realised that the family had a really good night that night; my brothers behaved themselves, my parents didn’t fight, and grandma and grandad had been there. Hadn’t they looked far more… expectant than they should have?
I strained my brain, trying to recall if I’d seen the homekill bag on the kitchen bench – if I’d registered what letter it was. I knew it wasn’t an L. I would have remembered if it was an L.
And then it hit me, the memory, the connection, sizzling as if branded with a hot iron.
It had been an ‘E’.
E for Elizabeth. Not for Edward the pig.
I snorted at my own stupidity – of *course* Liz was short for Elizabeth – and as I comprehended my lack of smarts, I felt something give inside me.
I wasn’t clever, and nothing, nothing would ever make me smart. I had no big talents. I wasn’t beautiful, or even cute – and even if I had a million plastic surgeries, it still wouldn’t fulfill me. It wouldn’t be real.
I was a Liz.
I was a Jenny.
I was whoever the first aunt had been, the aunt who had dedicated her life to making her flesh as delicious as possible, who had worked every damn minute to be the best Long Pig she could ever be.
I wondered how many magical family evenings had been spent eating Aunt Jenny. How many glorious, satisfying, memorable dishes had been made out of her.
And… I wanted that. I wanted to finally know I had a *purpose* in life. One so simple, and so easy to achieve.
I wanted what Aunt Liz had.
***
It's my fortieth birthday today and I’m so fucking excited. For the last twenty-four years, I’ve dedicated myself to this moment; I’ve eaten exactly what I needed to, I’ve exercised just enough, but not too much, to maintain that perfect balance of marbling vs tenderness. I’ve relaxed and meditated to keep all those amazing flavours inside of me. I’ve researched all the greatest meats in the world, from prime Angus beef to A5 Wagyu. I really think I may have outdone myself.
I’m having my hair and makeup done at the local salon this afternoon, and I’m going to look so pretty; all prize piggy on show at the fair. I’m even going to have a big red ribbon in my hair, in memory of Aunt Liz.
Maybe there’ll be a cute boy I can snog in the wool shed, maybe there won’t – I don’t really care; because the most important, most certain thing is that I’m going to be the most delicious Long Pig in the history of our entire family.
I’m going to make everyone so damn happy, and I’m just so glad I can share my story with you all, instead of hiding it in a grubby book like poor Aunt Liz.
My only real disappointment? That you won’t get to taste me.
Reader, I have loved, loved my life. My Long Pork will be out of this world: once tasted, never, ever forgotten.

"Why Did Jesus Die on the Cross?"

The main reason Jesus died on the cross was to defeat Satan and set us free from his oppressive rule. Everything else that Jesus accomplished was to be understood as an aspect and consequence of this victory (e.g., Recapitulation, Moral Influence, etc.).
This understanding of why Jesus had to die is called the Christus Victor (Latin for “Christ is Victorious”) view of the atonement. But, what exactly was Christ victorious from, and why? To find out the answers to these questions, we have to turn to the Old Testament, as that's what the apostles would often allude to in order to properly teach their audience the message they were trying to convey (Rom. 15:4).
The OT is full of conflict between the Father (YHVH) and false gods, between YHVH and cosmic forces of chaos. The Psalms speak of this conflict between YHVH and water monsters of the deeps (an ancient image for chaos) (Psa. 29:3-4; 74:10-14; 77:16, 19; 89:9-10; 104:2-9, etc).
The liberation of Israel from Egypt wasn’t just a conflict between Pharaoh and Moses. It was really between YHVH and the false gods of Egypt.
Regardless of whether you think the aforementioned descriptions are literal or metaphorical, the reality that the Old Testament describes is that humanity lived in a “cosmic war zone.”
The Christus Victor motif is about Christ reigning victorious over wicked principalities and Satan's kingdom, and is strongly emphasized throughout the New Testament. Scripture declares that Jesus came to drive out "the prince of this world” (John 12:31), to “destroy the works of the devil” (1 John 3:8), to “destroy him that had the power of death, that is, the devil” (Heb. 2:14) and to “put all enemies under his feet” (1 Cor 15:25). Jesus came to overpower the “strong man” (Satan) who held the world in bondage and worked with his Church to plunder his "palace" (Luke 11:21-22). He came to end the reign of the cosmic “thief” who seized the world to “steal, and to kill, and to destroy” the life YHVH intended for us (John 10:10). Jesus came and died on the cross to disarm “the principalities and powers” and make a “shew of them openly [i.e., public spectacle]” by “triumphing over them in [the cross]” (Col. 2:15).
Beyond these explicit statements, there are many other passages that express the Christus Victor motif as well. For example, the first prophecy in the Bible foretells that a descendent of Eve (Jesus) would crush the head of the serpent (Gen. 3:15). The first Christian sermon ever preached proclaimed that Jesus in principle conquered all YHVH's enemies (Acts 2:32-36). And the single most frequently quoted Old Testament passage by New Testament authors is Psalm 110:1 which predicts that Christ would conquer all YHVH’s opponents. (Psalm 110 is quoted or alluded to in Matthew 22:41-45; 26:64, Mark 12:35-37; 14:62, Luke 20:41-44; 22:69, Acts 5:31; 7:55-56, Romans 8:34, 1st Corinthians 15:22-25, Ephesians 1:20, Hebrews 1:3; 1:13; 5:6, 10; 6:20; 7:11, 15, 17, 21; 8:1; 10:12-13, 1st Peter 3:22, and Revelation 3:21.) According to New Testament scholar Oscar Cullman, the frequency with which New Testament authors cite this Psalm is the greatest proof that Christ’s “victory over the angel powers stands at the very center of early Christian thought.”
Because of man's rebellion, the Messiah's coming involved a rescue mission that included a strategy for vanquishing the powers of darkness.
Since YHVH is a God of love who gives genuine “say-so” to both angels and humans, YHVH rarely accomplishes His providential plans through coercion. YHVH relies on His infinite wisdom to achieve His goals. Nowhere is YHVH's wisdom put more on display than in the manner in which He outsmarted Satan and the powers of evil, using their own evil to bring about their defeat.
Most readers probably know the famous story from ancient Greece about the Trojan Horse. To recap the story, Troy and Greece had been locked in a ten-year-long vicious war when, according to Homer and Virgil, the Greeks came up with a brilliant idea. They built an enormous wooden horse, hid soldiers inside and offered it to the Trojans as a gift, claiming they were conceding defeat and going home. The delighted Trojans accepted the gift and proceeded to celebrate by drinking themselves into a drunken stupor. When night came and the Trojan warriors were too wasted to fight, the Greeks exited the horse, unlocked the city gates to quietly let all their compatriots in, and easily conquered the city, thus winning the war.
Historians debate whether any of this actually happened. But either way, as military strategies go, it’s brilliant.
Now, there are five clues in the New Testament that suggest YHVH was using something like this Trojan Horse strategy against the powers when he sent Jesus into the world:
1) The Bible tells us that YHVH's victory over the powers of darkness was achieved by the employment of YHVH’s wisdom, and was centered on that wisdom having become reality in Jesus Christ (Rom. 16:25, 1 Cor. 2:7, Eph. 3:9-10, Col. 1:26). It also tells us that, for some reason, this Christ-centered wisdom was kept “secret and hidden” throughout the ages. It’s clear from this that YHVH's strategy was to outsmart and surprise the powers by sending Jesus.
2) While humans don’t generally know Jesus’ true identity during his ministry, demons do. They recognize Jesus as the Son of God, the Messiah, but, interestingly enough, they have no idea what he’s doing (Mark 1:24; 3:11; 5:7, Luke 8:21). Again, the wisdom of YHVH in sending Jesus was hidden from them.
3) We’re told that, while humans certainly share in the responsibility for the crucifixion, Satan and the powers were working behind the scenes to bring it about (John 13:27 cf. 1 Cor. 2:6-8). These forces of evil helped orchestrate the crucifixion.
4) We’re taught that if the “princes of this world [age]” had understood the secret wisdom of YHVH, “they would not have crucified the Lord of glory” (1 Cor 2:8 cf. vss 6-7). Apparently, Satan and the powers regretted orchestrating Christ’s crucifixion once they learned of the wisdom of YHVH that was behind it.
5) Finally, we can begin to understand why the powers came to regret crucifying “the Lord of glory” when we read that it was by means of the crucifixion that the “handwriting of ordinances that was against us, which was contrary to us [i.e., the charge of our legal indebtedness]” was “[taken] out of the way [i.e., canceled]” as the powers were disarmed. In this way Christ “triumph[ed] over” the powers by "his cross” and even “made a shew of them openly” (Col. 2:14-15). Through Christ’s death and resurrection YHVH's enemies were vanquished and placed under his Messiah's feet, and ultimately His own in the end (1 Cor. 15:23-28).
Putting these five clues together, we can discern YHVH's Trojan Horse strategy in sending Jesus.
The powers couldn’t discern why Jesus came because YHVH's wisdom was hidden from them. YHVH's wisdom was motivated by unfathomable love, and since Satan and the other powers were evil, they lacked the capacity to understand it. Their evil hearts prevented them from suspecting what YHVH was up to.
What the powers did understand was that Jesus was mortal. This meant he was killable. Lacking the capacity to understand that this was the means by which YHVH would ultimately bring about the defeat of death (and thus, pave the road for the resurrection itself), they never suspected that making Jesus vulnerable to their evil might actually be part of YHVH's infinitely wise plan.
And so they took the bait (or "ransom"; Matt. 20:28, Mark 10:45, 1 Tim. 2:5-6). Utilizing Judas and other willing human agents, the powers played right into YHVH’s secret plan and orchestrated the crucifixion of the Messiah (Acts 2:22-23; 4:28). YHVH thus brilliantly used the self-inflicted incapacity of evil to understand love against itself. And, like light dispelling darkness, the unfathomably beautiful act of YHVH's love in sending the willing Messiah as a "ransom" to these blood-thirsty powers defeated them. The whole creation was in principle freed and reconciled to YHVH, while everything written against us humans was nailed to the cross, thus robbing the powers of the only legal claim they had on us. They were “spoiled [i.e., disempowered]” (Col. 2:14-15).
As happened to the Trojans in accepting the gift from the Greeks, in seizing on Christ’s vulnerability and orchestrating his crucifixion, the powers unwittingly cooperated with YHVH to unleash the one power in the world that dispels all evil and sets captives free. It’s the power of self-sacrificial love.

Why Penal Substitution Is Unbiblical

For the sake of keeping this already lengthy post as short as possible I'm not going to spend too much time on why exactly PSA (Penal Substitutionary Atonement) is inconsistent with Scripture, but I'll go ahead and point out the main reasons why I believe this is so, and let the reader look further into this subject by themselves, being that there are many resources out there which have devoted much more time than I ever could here in supporting this premise.

"Purge out therefore the old leaven, that ye may be a new lump, as ye are unleavened. For even Christ our passover is sacrificed for us:"-1 Corinthians 5:7

The Passover is one of the two most prominent images in the New Testament given as a comparison to Christ's atonement and what it accomplished, (the other most common image being the Day of Atonement sacrifice).
In the Passover, the blood of the lamb on the door posts of the Hebrews in the book of Exodus was meant to mark out those who were YHVH's, not be a symbol of PSA, as the lamb itself was not being punished by God in place of the Hebrews, but rather the kingdom of Egypt (and thus, allegorically speaking, the kingdom of darkness which opposed YHVH) was what was being judged and punished, because those who were not "covered" by the blood of the lamb could be easily identified as not part of God's kingdom/covenant and liberated people.
Looking at the Day of Atonement sacrifice (which, again, Christ's death is repeatedly compared to throughout the New Testament), this ritual required a ram, a bull, and two goats (Lev. 16:3-5). The ram was for a burnt offering intended to please God (Lev. 16:3-4). The bull served as a sin offering for Aaron, the high priest, and his family. In this case, the sin offering restored the priest to ritual purity, allowing him to occupy sacred space and be near YHVH’s presence. Two goats taken from "the congregation” were needed for the single sin offering for the people (Lev. 16:5). So why two goats?
The high priest would cast lots over the two goats, with one chosen as a sacrifice “for the Lord” (Lev. 16:8). The blood of that goat would purify the people. The second goat was not sacrificed or designated “for the Lord.” On the contrary, this goat—the one that symbolically carried the sins away from the camp of Israel into the wilderness—was “for Azazel” (Lev. 16:8-10).
What—or who—is Azazel?
The Hebrew term azazel (עזאזל) occurs four times in Leviticus 16 but nowhere else in most people's canon of the Bible, (and I say "most people's canon," because some people do include 1 Enoch in their canon of Scripture, which of course goes into great detail about this "Azazel" figure). Many translations prefer to translate the term as a phrase, “the goat that goes away,” which is the same idea conveyed in the King James Version’s “scapegoat.” Other translations treat the word as a name: Azazel. The “scapegoat” option is possible, but since the phrase “for Azazel” parallels the phrase “for YHVH” (“for the Lord”), the wording suggests that two divine figures are being contrasted by the two goats.
A strong case can be made for translating the term as the name Azazel. Ancient Jewish texts show that Azazel was understood as a demonic figure associated with the wilderness. The Mishnah (ca. AD 200; Yoma 6:6) records that the goat for Azazel was led to a cliff and pushed over, ensuring it would not return with its death. This association of the wilderness with evil is also evident in the New Testament, as this was where Jesus met the devil (Matt. 4:1). Also, in Leviticus 17:1-7 we learn that some Israelites had been accustomed to sacrificing offerings to "devils" (alternatively translated as “goat demons”). The Day of Atonement replaced this illegitimate practice.
The second goat was not sent into the wilderness as a sacrifice to a foreign god or demon. The act of sending the live goat out into the wilderness, which was unholy ground, was to send the sins of the people where they belonged—to the demonic domain. With one goat sacrificed to bring purification and access to YHVH and one goat sent to carry the people’s sins to the demonic domain, this annual ritual reinforced the identity of the true God and His mercy and holiness.
When Jesus died on the cross for all of humanity’s sins, he was crucified outside the city, paralleling the sins of the people being cast to the wilderness via the goat to Azazel. Jesus died once for all sinners, negating the need for this ritual.
As previously stated, the goat which had all the sin put on it was sent alive off to the wilderness, while the blood of the goat which was blameless was used to purify the temple and the people. Penal substitution would necessitate the killing of the goat which had the sin put on it.
Mind you, this is the only sacrificial ritual of any kind in the Torah in which sins are placed on an animal. The only time it happens is this, and that animal is not sacrificed. Most PSA proponents unwittingly point to this ritual as evidence of their view, despite it actually serving as evidence to the contrary, because most people don't read their Old Testament and don't familiarize themselves with the "boring parts" like Leviticus (when it's actually rather important to do so, since that book explains how exactly animal offerings were to be carried out and why they were done in the first place).
In the New Testament, Christ's blood was not only meant to mark out those who were his, but also expel the presence of sin and ritual uncleanness so as to make the presence of YHVH manifest in the believer's life. Notice how God's wrath isn't poured out on Christ in our stead on this view, but rather His wrath was poured out on those who weren't covered, and the presence of sin and evil were merely removed by that which is pure and blameless (Christ's blood) for the believer.
All this is the difference between expiation and propitiation.

The Content of Paul's Gospel Message

When the New Testament writers talked about “the gospel,” they referred not to the Protestant doctrine of justification sola fide–the proposition that if we will stop trying to win God’s favor and only just believe that God has exchanged our sin for Christ’s perfect righteousness, then in God’s eyes we will have the perfect righteousness required both for salvation and for assuaging our guilty consciences–but rather they referred to the simple but explosive proposition Kyrios Christos, “Christ is Lord.” That is to say, the gospel was, properly speaking, the royal announcement that Jesus of Nazareth was the God of Israel’s promised Messiah, the King of kings and Lord of lords.
The New Testament writers were not writing in a cultural or linguistic vacuum and their language of euangelion (good news) and euangelizomai would have been understood by their audience in fairly specific ways. Namely, in the Greco-Roman world for which the New Testament authors wrote, euangelion/euangelizomai language typically had to do with either A) the announcement of the accession of a ruler, or B) the announcement of a victory in battle, and would probably have been understood along those lines.
Let’s take the announcements of a new ruler first. The classic example of such a language is the Priene Calendar Inscription, dating to circa 9 BC, which celebrates the rule (and birthday) of Caesar Augustus as follows:
"It was seeming to the Greeks in Asia, in the opinion of the high priest Apollonius of Menophilus Azanitus: Since Providence, which has ordered all things of our life and is very much interested in our life, has ordered things in sending Augustus, whom she filled with virtue for the benefit of men, sending him as a savior [soter] both for us and for those after us, him who would end war and order all things, and since Caesar by his appearance [epiphanein] surpassed the hopes of all those who received the good tidings [euangelia], not only those who were benefactors before him, but even the hope among those who will be left afterward, and the birthday of the god [he genethlios tou theou] was for the world the beginning of the good tidings [euangelion] through him; and Asia resolved it in Smyrna."
The association of the term euangelion with the announcement of Augustus’ rule is clear enough and is typical of how this language is used elsewhere. To give another example, Josephus records that at the news of the accession of the new emperor Vespasian (69 AD) “every city kept festival for the good news (euangelia) and offered sacrifices on his behalf.” (The Jewish War, IV.618). Finally, a papyrus dating to ca. 498 AD begins:
"Since I have become aware of the good news (euangeliou) about the proclamation as Caesar (of Gaius Julius Verus Maximus Augustus)…"
This usage occurs also in the Septuagint, the Greek translations of the Jewish Scriptures. For instance LXX Isaiah 52:7 reads, “How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him who brings good news (euangelizomenou), who publishes peace, who brings good news (euangelizomenos) of salvation, who says to Zion, ‘Your God reigns.'" Similarly, LXX Isaiah 40:9-10 reads:

"…Go up on a high mountain, you who bring good tidings (ho euangelizomenos) to Sion; lift up your voice with strength, you who bring good tidings (ho euangelizomenos); lift it up, do not fear; say to the cities of Ioudas, “See your God!” Behold, the Lord comes with strength, and his arm with authority (kyrieias)…."-NETS, Esaias 40:9-10

This consistent close connection between euangelion/euangelizomai language and announcements of rule strongly suggests that many of the initial hearers/readers of the early Christians’ evangelical language would likely have understood that language as the announcement of a new ruler (see, e.g., Acts 17:7), and, unless there is strong NT evidence to the contrary, we should presume that the NT writers probably intended their language to be so understood.
However, the other main way in which euangelion/euangelizomai language was used in the Greco-Roman world was with reference to battle reports, announcements of victory in war. A classic example of this sort of usage can be found in LXX 2 Samuel 18:19ff, where David receives word that his traitorous son, Absalom, has been defeated in battle. Euangelion/euangelizomai is used throughout the passage for the communications from the front.
As already shown throughout this post, the NT speaks of Jesus’s death and resurrection as a great victory over the powers that existed at that time and, most importantly, over death itself. Jesus’ conquest of the principalities and powers was the establishment of his rule and comprehensive authority over heaven and earth, that is, of his Lordship over all things (again, at that time).
This was the content of Paul's gospel message...

Justification, and the "New" Perspective on Paul

The following quotation is from The Gospel Coalition, and I believe it to be a decently accurate summary of the NPP (New Perspective on Paul), despite it being from a source which is in opposition to it:

The New Perspective on Paul, a major scholarly shift that began in the 1980s, argues that the Jewish context of the New Testament has been wrongly understood and that this misunderstand[ing] has led to errors in the traditional-Protestant understanding of justification. According to the New Perspective, the Jewish systems of salvation were not based on works-righteousness but rather on covenantal nomism, the belief that one enters the people of God by grace and stays in through obedience to the covenant. This means that Paul could not have been referring to works-righteousness by his phrase “works of the law”; instead, he was referring to Jewish boundary markers that made clear who was or was not within the people of God. For the New Perspective, this is the issue that Paul opposes in the NT. Thus, justification takes on two aspects for the New Perspective rather than one; initial justification is by faith (grace) and recognizes covenant status (ecclesiology), while final justification is partially by works, albeit works produced by the Spirit.

I believe what's called the "new perspective" is actually rather old, and that the Reformers' view of Paul is what is truly new, being that the Lutheran understanding of Paul is simply not Biblical.
The Reformation perspective understands Paul to be arguing against a legalistic Jewish culture that seeks to earn their salvation through works. However, supporters of the NPP argue that Paul has been misread. We contend he was actually combating Jews who were boasting because they were God's people, the "elect" or the "chosen ones." Their "works," so to speak, were done to show they were God's covenant people and not to earn their salvation.
The key questions involve Paul’s view(s) of the law and the meaning of the controversy in which Paul was engaged. Paul strongly argued that we are “justified by the faith of Christ, and not by the works of the law” (Gal. 2:16b). Since the time of Martin Luther, this has been understood as an indictment of legalistic efforts to merit favor before God. Judaism was cast in the role of the medieval "church," and so Paul’s protests became very Lutheran, with traditional-Protestant theology reinforced in all its particulars (along with its limitations) as a result. In hermeneutical terms, then, the historical context of Paul’s debate will answer the questions we have about what exactly the apostle meant by the phrase "works of the law," along with other phrases often used as support by the Reformers for their doctrine of Sola Fide (justification by faith alone), like when Paul mentions "the righteousness of God."
Obviously an in-depth analysis of the Pauline corpus and its place in the context of first-century Judaism would take us far beyond the scope of this brief post. We can, however, quickly survey the topography of Paul’s thought in context, particularly as it has emerged through the efforts of recent scholarship, and note some salient points which may be used as the basis of a refurbished soteriology.
[Note: The more popular scholars associated with the NPP are E.P. Sanders, James Dunn, and N.T. Wright. Dunn was the first to coin the term "The New Perspective" in a 1983 Manson Memorial Lecture, The New Perspective on Paul and the Law.]
Varying authors since the early 1900's have brought up the charge that Paul was misread by those in the tradition of Martin Luther and other Protestant Reformers. Yet, it wasn't until E.P. Sanders' 1977 book, Paul and Palestinian Judaism, that scholars began to pay much attention to the issue. In his book, Sanders argues that the Judaism of Paul's day has been wrongly criticized as a religion of "works-salvation" by those in the Protestant tradition.
A fundamental premise in the NPP is that Judaism was actually a religion of grace. Sander's puts it clearly:
"On the point at which many have found the decisive contrast between Paul and Judaism - grace and works - Paul is in agreement with Palestinian Judaism... Salvation is by grace but judgment is according to works'...God saves by grace, but... within the framework established by grace he rewards good deeds and punishes transgression." (Paul and Palestinian Judaism, p. 543)
N.T. Wright adds that, "we have misjudged early Judaism, especially Pharisaism, if we have thought of it as an early version of Pelagianism," (Wright, What Saint Paul Really Said, p. 32).
Sanders has coined a now well-known phrase to describe the character of first-century Palestinian Judaism: “covenantal nomism.” The meaning of “covenantal nomism” is that human obedience is not construed as the means of entering into God’s covenant. That cannot be earned; inclusion within the covenant body is by the grace of God. Rather, obedience is the means of maintaining one’s status within the covenant. And with its emphasis on divine grace and forgiveness, Judaism was never a religion of legalism.
If covenantal nomism was operating as the primary category under which Jews understood the Law, then when Jews spoke of obeying commandments, or when they required strict obedience of themselves and fellow Jews, it was because they were "keeping the covenant," rather than out of legalism.
More recently, N.T. Wright has made a significant contribution in his little book, What Saint Paul Really Said. Wright’s focus is the gospel and the doctrine of justification. With incisive clarity he demonstrates that the core of Paul’s gospel was not justification by faith, but the death and resurrection of Christ and his exaltation as Lord. The proclamation of the gospel was the proclamation of Jesus as Lord, the Messiah who fulfilled Israel’s expectations. Romans 1:3-4, not 1:16-17, is the gospel, contrary to traditional thinking. Justification is not the center of Paul’s thought, but an outworking of it:
"[T]he doctrine of justification by faith is not what Paul means by ‘the gospel’. It is implied by the gospel; when the gospel is proclaimed, people come to faith and so are regarded by God as members of his people. But ‘the gospel’ is not an account of how people get saved. It is, as we saw in an earlier chapter, the proclamation of the lordship of Jesus Christ….Let us be quite clear. ‘The gospel’ is the announcement of Jesus’ lordship, which works with power to bring people into the family of Abraham, now redefined around Jesus Christ and characterized solely by faith in him. ‘Justification’ is the doctrine which insists that all those who have this faith belong as full members of this family, on this basis and no other." (pp. 132, 133)
Wright brings us to this point by showing what “justification” would have meant in Paul’s Jewish context, bound up as it was in law-court terminology, eschatology, and God’s faithfulness to God’s covenant.
Specifically, Wright explodes the myth that the pre-Christian Saul was a pious, proto-Pelagian moralist seeking to earn his individual passage into heaven. Wright capitalizes on Paul’s autobiographical confessions to paint rather a picture of a zealous Jewish nationalist whose driving concern was to cleanse Israel of Gentiles as well as Jews who had lax attitudes toward the Torah. Running the risk of anachronism, Wright points to a contemporary version of the pre-Christian Saul: Yigal Amir, the zealous Torah-loyal Jew who assassinated Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin for exchanging Israel’s land for peace. Wright writes:
"Jews like Saul of Tarsus were not interested in an abstract, ahistorical system of salvation... They were interested in the salvation which, they believed, the one true God had promised to his people Israel." (pp. 32, 33)
Wright maintains that as a Christian, Paul continued to challenge paganism by taking the moral high ground of the creational monotheist. The doctrine of justification was not what Paul preached to the Gentiles as the main thrust of his gospel message; it was rather “the thing his converts most needed to know in order to be assured that they really were part of God’s people” after they had responded to the gospel message.
Even while taking the gospel to the Gentiles, however, Paul continued to criticize Judaism “from within” even as he had as a zealous Pharisee. But whereas his mission before was to root out those with lax attitudes toward the Torah, now his mission was to demonstrate that God’s covenant faithfulness (righteousness) has already been revealed in Jesus Christ.
At this point Wright carefully documents Paul’s use of the controversial phrase “God’s righteousness” and draws out the implications of his meaning against the background of a Jewish concept of justification. The righteousness of God and the righteousness of the party who is “justified” cannot be confused because the term bears different connotations for the judge than for the plaintiff or defendant. The judge is “righteous” if his or her judgment is fair and impartial; the plaintiff or defendant is “righteous” if the judge rules in his or her favor. Hence:
"If we use the language of the law court, it makes no sense whatsoever to say that the judge imputes, imparts, bequeaths, conveys or otherwise transfers his righteousness to either the plaintiff or the defendant. Righteousness is not an object, a substance or a gas which can be passed across the courtroom. For the judge to be righteous does not mean that the court has found in his favor. For the plaintiff or defendant to be righteous does not mean that he or she has tried the case properly or impartially. To imagine the defendant somehow receiving the judge’s righteousness is simply a category mistake. That is not how the language works." (p. 98)
However, Wright makes the important observation that even with the forensic metaphor, Paul’s theology is not so much about the courtroom as it is about God’s love.
Righteousness is not an impersonal, abstract standard, a measuring-stick or a balancing scale. That was, and still is, a Greek view. Righteousness, Biblically speaking, grows out of covenant relationship. We forgive because we have been forgiven (Matt. 18:21-35); “we love" because God “first loved us” (1 John 4:19). Love is the fulfillment of the law (Rom. 13:8, 10, Gal 5:14, Jam. 2:8). Paul even looked forward to a day when “we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ; that every one may receive the things done in his body, according to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad” (2 Cor. 5:10), and he acknowledged that his clear conscience did not necessarily ensure this verdict (1 Cor. 4:4), but he was confident nevertheless. Paul did in fact testify of his clear conscience: “For our rejoicing is this, the testimony of our conscience, that in simplicity and godly sincerity, not with fleshly wisdom, but by the grace of God, we have had our conversation [i.e., behavior] in the world, and more abundantly to you-ward” (2 Cor. 1:12). He was aware that he had not yet “attained” (Phil. 3:12-14), that he still struggled with the flesh, yet he was confident of the value of his performance (1 Cor. 9:27). These are hardly the convictions of someone who intends to rest entirely on the merits of an alien righteousness imputed to his or her account.
Wright went on to flesh out the doctrine of justification in Galatians, Philippians, and Romans. The “works of the law” are not proto-Pelagian efforts to earn salvation, but rather “sabbath [keeping], food-laws, circumcision” (p. 132). Considering the controversy in Galatia, Wright writes:
"Despite a long tradition to the contrary, the problem Paul addresses in Galatians is not the question of how precisely someone becomes a Christian, or attains to a relationship with God….The problem he addresses is: should his ex-pagan converts be circumcised or not? Now this question is by no means obviously to do with the questions faced by Augustine and Pelagius, or by Luther and Erasmus. On anyone’s reading, but especially within its first-century context, it has to do quite obviously with the question of how you define the people of God: are they to be defined by the badges of Jewish race, or in some other way? Circumcision is not a ‘moral’ issue; it does not have to do with moral effort, or earning salvation by good deeds. Nor can we simply treat it as a religious ritual, then designate all religious ritual as crypto-Pelagian good works, and so smuggle Pelagius into Galatia as the arch-opponent after all. First-century thought, both Jewish and Christian, simply doesn’t work like that…. [T]he polemic against the Torah in Galatians simply will not work if we ‘translate’ it into polemic either against straightforward self-help moralism or against the more subtle snare of ‘legalism’, as some have suggested. The passages about the law only work — and by ‘work’ I mean they will only make full sense in their contexts, which is what counts in the last analysis — when we take them as references to the Jewish law, the Torah, seen as the national charter of the Jewish race." (pp. 120-122)
The debate about justification, then, “wasn’t so much about soteriology as about ecclesiology; not so much about salvation as about the church.” (p. 119)
To summarize the theology of Paul in his epistles, the apostle mainly spent time arguing to those whom he were sending letters that salvation in Christ was available to all men without distinction. Jews and Gentiles alike may accept the free gift; it was not limited to any one group. Paul was vehement about this, especially in his letter to the Romans. As such, I will finish this post off by summarizing the letter itself, so as to provide Biblical support for the premises of the NPP and for what the scholars I referenced have thus far argued.
After his introduction in the epistle to an already believing and mostly Gentile audience (who would've already been familiar with the gospel proclaimed in verses 3-4), Paul makes a thematic statement in 1:16: “For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ: for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth; to the Jew first, and also to the Greek.” This statement is just one of many key statements littered throughout the book of Romans that give us proper understanding of the point Paul wished to make to the interlocutors of his day, namely, salvation is available to all, whether Jew or Gentile.
In 1:16 Paul sets out a basic theme of his message in the letter to the Romans. All who believed, whether they be Jew or Gentile, were saved by the power of the gospel. The universal nature of salvation was explicitly stated. The gospel saved all without distinction, whether Jew or Greek; salvation was through the gospel of Jesus Christ. Immediately after this thematic declaration, Paul undertakes to show the universal nature of sin and guilt. In 1:18-32 Paul shows how the Gentile is guilty before God. Despite evidence of God and his attributes, which is readily available to all, they have failed to honor YHVH as God and have exchanged His glory for idolatrous worship and self-promotion. As a consequence, God handed them over in judgment (1:18-32). Paul moves to denunciation of those who would judge others while themselves being guilty of the very same offenses (2:1-5) and argues that all will be judged according to their deeds (2:6). This judgment applies to all, namely, Jew and Greek (2:9-10). This section serves as somewhat of a transition in Paul’s argument. He has highlighted the guilt of the Gentiles (1:18ff) and will shortly outline the guilt of the Jew (2:17-24). The universal statement of 2:1-11 sets the stage for Paul’s rebuke of Jewish presumption. It was not possession of the Law which delivered; it was faithful obedience. It is better to have no Law and yet to obey the essence of the Law (2:12-16) than to have the Law and not obey (2:17-3:4). Paul then defends the justice of God’s judgment (3:5-8), which leads to the conclusion that all (Jew and Gentile) are guilty before God (3:9).
Paul argues that it was a mistaken notion to think that salvation was the prerogative of the Jew only. This presumption is wrong for two reasons. First, it leads to the mistaken assumption that only Jews were eligible for this vindication (Paul deals with this misunderstanding in chapter 4 where he demonstrates that Abraham was justified by faith independently of the Law and is therefore the father of all who believe, Jew and Gentile alike). Second, it leads to the equally mistaken conclusion that all who were Jews are guaranteed of vindication. Paul demonstrates how this perspective, which would call God’s integrity into question since Paul was assuming many Jews would not experience this vindication, was misguided. He did this by demonstrating that it was never the case that all physical descendants of Israel (Jacob) were likewise recipients of the promise. In the past (9:6-33) as in the present (at that time; 11:1-10), only a remnant was preserved and only a remnant would experience vindication. Paul also argued that the unbelief of national Israel (the non-remnant) had the purpose of extending the compass of salvation. The unbelief of one group made the universal scope of the gospel possible. This universalism was itself intended to bring about the vindication of the unbelieving group (11:11-16). As a result of faith, all (Jew and Gentile) could be branches of the olive tree (11:17-24). Since faith in Christ was necessary to remain grafted into the tree, no one could boast of his position. All, Jew and Gentile alike, were dependent upon the mercy and grace of God. As a result of God’s mysterious plan, He would bring about the vindication of His people (11:25-27). [Note: It is this author's belief that this vindication occurred around 66-70 AD, with the Parousia of Christ's Church; this author is Full-Preterist in their Eschatology.]

Part 1: https://www.reddit.com/OffMyChestPH/s/JPmEf0aCn6
So since people were asking for an update. Here we go.
We did not end up having a following date. She got tired from paragliding the next day(yesterday) I even went and nag relax sa beach malapit sa resort n'ya para if ever na mag reply s'ya na gusto n'yang lumabas eh malapit na'ko hahah. So when I asked her to hangout today she declined dahil she's done going outside. And she's leaving tomorrow morning na ren. She's introverted autistic so understandable. I respect it. But I tried asking for one more night kahit na sa hotel lang at mag usap just like the first night. I was gonna get flowers otw pa naman and give her my bracelet that I'm wearing during the time na I was with her and one of our photo booth picture na may hand written letter ko sa likod. But oh well 🤷‍♂️. Am I upset? A lil bit but I came in terms with it. She was probably overwhelmed den dahil sa bagong experience at talagang I did my best talaga.
Now, were just chatting online na lang pero not like fast replying talking stage type shit.
Honestly, I wasn't expecting anything naman talaga after she leaves dahil considering every circumstances I know na di kame mag wowork as an ldr. Pero I love to think na what made it special between us was the underlying bittersweet part nga na we know there's an ending and have an idea about it. Just like a movie, may umpisa at may katapusan. Yes, it was like a movie(pinanood ko yung Before Sunset na sinabe nung unang comment sa first part ng post ko) so yeah for the most part it was really like that.
So now, from what I'm seeing between us we would just keep in touch through discord pero that's about it. I didn't ask her to get connected sa socmed na ren. Because it would make me keep my memory of her from those nights. This beautiful, interesting, mysterious, and weirdly fun woman I met.
I even told her to my friends. I told them the story and what happened. I told them what I'm telling you guys rn.
I honestly just wish she had an amazing time with me. Like something she'll remember for good amount of time. I really hope the best for her. I hope I've set the standard for her and she won't settle for less than me if she ever starts dating.
As for me? She changed me. Remember how I said I'm not the ideal guy sa first post ko? Yeah. I would frequently hookup. Had fwb/fubus. Would to multiple girls at the same time. I was like that.
But after meeting her and finally experiencing something like that and romanticizing everything about us, I liked it.
I long for something like that again but not right now. In the future sure.
So I deleted all my dating apps. Kinausap ko mga current girls na kinakausap ko and told them what happened which is unusual for me dahil almost everytime when I'm done talking with a girl I would just ghost them because it's easier for me. Stuffs like that, talagang binago n'ya ako. One of my friends is even proud of me. Kaya I even gave them the condoms that I'm supposed to use pa. Some of them aren't fond den sa lifestyle ko e hahah
But yeah, I'm done chasing girls and being sexually motivated. I would rather instead romanticize my own life. Make my own adventure and connect with people I meet along the way.
I even had my friend help me to make a bucket list for me. After namen mag usap kanina I submitted my leave request. I'm planning on going to a vacation on a different place na ren. Who knows? I might find someone who I'll go out with on wherever I go. I'm not gonna actively chase it but that does sounds fun naman haha parang sa perspective n'ya.
It might be not the kind of ending that you guys were hoping(me too) but it's an ending. So yeah, I hope she'll have a good life. I told myself na babatiin ko s'ya ng happy birthday ever.
And thank you everyone sa mga comments. I didn't expect to have people actually get invested on it and ask for updates.

The book is James Hinton’s Selections from Manuscripts. There are four of them in total, with each being 600-800 pages.
Here is the download link from Internet Archive: https://archive.org/search?query=%22selections+from+manuscripts%22
I have been reading this series of four books for three months now. I feel the title I give is not exaggerating at all and a necessary means to grab the attention of indifferent people who may be overwhlemed by the quantity of information on the Internet.
And one of the reasons that such a phenomenal work is obscure to the public eyes is that James Hinton chose to publish them for private circulation only.
And for those who are sensitive to this kind of works containing a substantial amount of Light, it will only take a few minutes for you to recognize the value of them. Because THROUGHOUT these books are profound claims and you could just pick a random page to see if what I say is true.
Regarding questions such as why do we have suffering, the nature of pleasure, the nature of this world as we now perceive it, consciousness, Love, creature/creation, Being/non-Being, this book gives answers to them under the framework of Christian mysticism. Though this book has not penetrated to the ultimate layer of whyness of everything, it did to a significant degree.
Here are some quotes:

1. There can be no 'not' without where there is no 'not' within ; the only way of perceiving or being affected by 'not' is having it within. In fact it comes to this : all evil is merely formal, and touches not the fact; and this formal evil is the means of Being, is part of the progress of creation. All the evil is worth while, for it only means that there is a 'not' in the Being who perceives it. The 'not' is its own punishment ; it makes evil all around it, puts a man in hell. This is heaven ; but we do not see it. It is darkness to us. If a man is not to see the light, make him blind. This is casting us into outer darkness —the sinner casts himself there. There can be no evil to love. The 'not' is not evil to love ; it is only the scope and sphere of its self-sacrifice. Is it not essential to the very Being of love, which exists in giving. So the 'not' of the creature is the very Being of God, is His self-sacrifice for them. Love turns all into the opposite, redeems all not in time only, but eternally. Where love is there no evil comes ; ' He that loveth is in God.'
2. Talent is doing, genius is suffering. This puts suffering in its right light. For see : it is genius does the work of the world ; talent exists only for it, is of no use save as laying a basis for the work of genius. So man's work is done, not by doing but by suffering. It is by what we bear the world is redeemed ; our doing is very unimportant, in itself of no value ; but it is in our suffering God's work is fulfilled ; for suffering the world exists ; then we are used; God's work is done in us; in our suffering is the Being of the universe. Christ was a sufferer, not a doer. What He did was of little moment comparatively, and of little efficacy ; its use was not for itself but to reveal the true meaning and value of His suffering. In delirium tremens, both sight and touch may be under illusion. Is it not disease that makes us perceive that which is not ? so we, perceiving matter, are diseased. And Christ, in saving us, raises us to a new state, gives us a life not physical, and giving us new Being, necessarily gives us new perception.
3. Is not this beautiful: to think that we are to have an altruistic Being, a true personal own feeling of 'man'—feeling as good to me, as my own actual happiness, that which is good to 'man'; no more as now feeling it opposed to my good. Then I have a direct and personal interest and concern in more than that which concerns 'me,' in that which concerns 'man.' All that concerns him is my good, in a literal sense. I am not bound as I seem to be ; that is error and illusion and false feeling.—Then in suffering for the good of man (and all suffering is such), I am suffering strictly for my own good, for a good that will be my own. Even selfishness thus is turned round, and made servant to her conqueror, Love. In suffering I do not lose ; it will be my own joy.—Surely thus one embraces that reward—the future happiness to recompense suffering—which is in the ordinary faith. It will be altruistic happiness : in being made thus 'conscious' the happiness will be given. Yet observe: that is, and must be, a spiritual change: radically moral, not physical: it will be a consciousness according to truth, actual, not phenomenal.

I feel it urgent to widely disseminate these four books before negative people notice this and maybe secretly tamper with the scanned files.

1. Sonder: The protagonist, while people-watching in a crowded city square, experiences a profound sonder moment, realizing the intricate stories of those around them.
   
2. Énouement: On their 30th birthday, the protagonist reflects on the énouement of their life, pondering the unexpected twists and turns that led them to this moment.
   
3. Chrysalism: During a cozy thunderstorm, the protagonist finds solace in their home, reveling in the chrysalism of raindrops tapping on the window.
   
4. Monachopsis: Attending a high-society event, the protagonist, feeling out of place, grapples with monachopsis in a sea of unfamiliar faces.
   
5. Liberosis: After a life-changing event, the protagonist embraces liberosis, letting go of trivial concerns and embarking on a minimalist lifestyle.
   
6. Vellichor: Exploring an old, dusty library, the protagonist inhales the vellichor of aged books, each telling a story of bygone eras.
   
7. Anecdoche: In the midst of a lively party, the protagonist engages in an anecdoche, trying to share a personal story amid the chaotic chatter.
   
8. Jouska: The protagonist engages in a silent jouska, rehearsing a conversation with a loved one that they never have the courage to voice.
   
9. Nighthawk: Alone in their thoughts during a sleepless night, the protagonist experiences nighthawk, contemplating the choices that brought them to this insomnia.
   
10. Occhiolism: Gazing at the vast night sky, the protagonist grapples with occhiolism, feeling infinitesimally small in the grand cosmos.
    
11. Lachesism: The protagonist, seeking a thrill, faces lachesism head-on by participating in extreme sports, craving the adrenaline rush.
    
12. Rubatosis: During a moment of anxiety, the protagonist becomes acutely aware of their own heartbeat, experiencing rubatosis in a tense situation.
    
13. Exulansis: Unable to convey a deeply personal experience, the protagonist faces exulansis, resigning to the solitude of their unshared story.
    
14. Sonderlust: Inspired by wanderlust, the protagonist embraces sonderlust, setting off on a journey to explore diverse cultures and connect with strangers.
    
15. Limerence: The protagonist, captivated by someone new, grapples with the intoxicating effects of limerence, navigating the complexities of infatuation.
    
16. Altschmerz: The protagonist, burdened by the weight of recurring issues, confronts altschmerz and seeks a new perspective on long-standing challenges.
    
17. Chiasmus: Engaging in a heated debate, the protagonist skillfully uses chiasmus to convey a powerful argument, leaving their opponent speechless.
    
18. Hiraeth: Visiting their childhood home after years away, the protagonist experiences hiraeth, longing for the simplicity of bygone days.
    
19. Xenization: Immersed in a foreign land, the protagonist grapples with xenization, navigating cultural differences and seeking a sense of belonging.
    
20. Petrichor: Walking through a rejuvenated forest after a rainstorm, the protagonist relishes in the petrichor, a reminder of nature's resilience.
    
21. Ineffable: Confronted with an indescribable beauty, the protagonist struggles with ineffable emotions, unable to capture the experience in words.
    
22. Resfeber: As they prepare for a significant journey, the protagonist feels resfeber, a mix of nervousness and excitement, anticipating the unknown.
    
23. Avenoir: Reflecting on a lost love, the protagonist yearns for avenoir, a glimpse into an alternate future where the relationship flourished.
    
24. Adronitis: Attending a crowded party, the protagonist experiences adronitis, the frustration of struggling to connect with others in the social chaos.
    
25. Chrysoprase: Discovering a hidden gem, the protagonist feels chrysoprase, an unexpected surge of joy and delight in the midst of daily life.
    
26. Fernweh: Looking at a world map, the protagonist succumbs to fernweh, a deep desire to explore distant lands and experience the unknown.
    
27. Zephyr: Standing on a cliff overlooking the ocean, the protagonist feels the gentle zephyr, contemplating the ephemeral nature of life.
    
28. Torschlusspanik: Approaching a significant life milestone, the protagonist grapples with torschlusspanik, fearing the narrowing of opportunities as time passes.
    
29. Cavil: Engaging in a philosophical discussion, the protagonist delights in cavil, exploring nuanced arguments and challenging conventional wisdom.
    
30. Mamihlapinatapai: Locked in a prolonged gaze with a potential romantic interest, the protagonist experiences mamihlapinatapai, the silent communication of mutual desire.
    
31. Nefelibata: The protagonist, lost in creative pursuits, embraces nefelibata, living in the clouds of their imagination and artistic expression.
    
32. Ubuntu: Faced with a communal challenge, the protagonist draws strength from ubuntu, a sense of shared humanity and collective support.
    
33. Boketto: Staring out of a window, the protagonist engages in boketto, lost in contemplation and daydreaming.
    
34. Hygge: Creating a cozy reading nook, the protagonist immerses themselves in hygge, finding comfort and contentment in simple pleasures.
    
35. Amae: Seeking reassurance, the protagonist experiences amae, leaning on loved ones for emotional support and connection.
    
36. Ukiyo: The protagonist, embracing a carefree lifestyle, embodies ukiyo, reveling in the fleeting pleasures of the present moment.
    
37. Sankofa: Confronted with personal growth, the protagonist embraces sankofa, learning from past experiences to shape a brighter future.
    
38. La douleur exquise: Receiving an unrequited love letter, the protagonist grapples with la douleur exquise, the exquisite pain of wanting someone unattainable.
    
39. Mudita: Witnessing a friend's success, the protagonist feels mudita, genuine joy and celebration for the happiness of others.
    
40. Yūgen: In a moment of deep introspection, the protagonist senses yūgen, an awareness of profound beauty and mystery in the universe.
    
41. Ikinokori: Surviving a life-threatening situation, the protagonist feels ikinokori, a heightened appreciation for the gift of life.
    
42. Ephemeral: Observing a butterfly's brief existence, the protagonist reflects on the ephemeral nature of beauty and life.
    
43. Thalassophile: Standing on a serene beach, the protagonist embraces their thalassophile nature, finding solace and connection with the sea.
    
44. Psithurism: Camping in a peaceful forest, the protagonist listens to the soothing psithurism of leaves rustling in the wind.
    
45. Obfuscate: Navigating a complex political situation, the protagonist strategically uses obfuscation to protect vital information.
    

On Saturday lunchtime my wife and I have a meal out arranged with very good friends which was booked weeks ago. It is in a fancy restaurant where there will be many courses and it will include wine. I intend to have some wine but aim to limit the quantity as I haven’t had any alcohol since starting MJ 2 1/2 weeks ago. My relationship with alcohol is a complex and interesting one which I would be happy to share here if others were interested? Suffice it to say I have drunk more than was good for me for much of my life over the last 40 years or so. How MJ interacts with alcohol interests me. Will I be interested in any wine? If so, how much? I will also ensure I remain well hydrated with lots of water.
My friend and I discussed the meal and whilst they were willing to cancel it, despite it being my friend’s birthday, we all agreed that we would go anyway and I will take this opportunity to see how MJ gets along with a diverse selection of high quality food. Parts of it will be easy for me eg not eating the bread and butter or the desserts. These meals tend to be protein heavy with a few veg and sauce/dressings on the plate. Without bread I can avoid mopping up the sauce and if they do serve carb heavy veg such as potatoes I can just leave those on the side. I have chosen to declare myself Pescatarian for the purposes of the meal as it is a set tasting menu and red meat really is a turn off for me at the moment.
It makes sense to me to go along, enjoy the experience and see what I can learn. Making adjustments feels like a key step for long term progress.

Two years ago my best friend invited me to his university graduation in july, and even asked me to be in his photos beside his family (we had been friends for seven years at that point). I was very honored, but he invited his boyfriend too.
Now, I had never met his boyfriend before, but I knew my friend loved him to pieces so I tried my best to get along with him (I'm not very socially skilled). We got along great, but I think I tried too hard because after my friend graduation he started being very cold with me.
I think it's important to say I moved away for university after high school (We live 3 hours away) and the only form of communication we shared was through texts, and I'm a bad texter but I have always tried my best for him.
After his graduation he started being cold with me. His answers to my texts were short and icy for months until he stopped answering me. I think maybe I talked to his boyfriend too much, or I didn't pay him the right amount of attention in his graduation, but I'm not sure because when I asked him what was wrong, that he could tell me what did I do he insisted that everything was fine. That nothing was wrong.
That year (2022) he started ghosting me in september and then started texting me pictures and videos about cutting bad people from his life and resenting others in the first days of february of 2023. Which were very obviously things he thought about me. To this day I don't know what I was supposed to answer to those texts (I only sent back sad faces).
And then that month in valentine's day he suddendly started acting normal again. And he even asked me why I hadn't send him a Happy Christmas and New Year text in december (which I had been doing since we were sixteen). Honestly, I cried of anger that day because I had actually grieved our friendship already.
I went to visit him somewhere that year for his birthday in May, to test how he acted in person. We went out to eat but it was a very tense hang out. After that, thinking about fixing our friendship and about what should I say and what not (to not upset him) made me so anxious that I ghosted him after May until October(not my best move)
He started sending me again passive agressive images about bad friends but started talking to me again anyway. In December I went to visit him and the two of us went to his town fair. It was less tense, but our relationship still felt very stilted.
After that we texted until early february, and then he ghosted me almost two months until the end of march to wish me happy birthday. Which I answered with ghosting him until this month to wish him happy birthday too.
I feel very guilty about ghosting him but my mental health has been a mess this year, and thinking about texting him has only made me anxious since his graduation. I don't know what to do anymore, or how to talk to him. I don't even know if we are still friends.

I have been having scary dreams since the past two weeks. Here are the two prominent ones that I remember: 1. It was my birthday and I was cutting a cake with everyone that I love, everyone was happy but suddenly I heard voices in my head, and they did not seem natural, those voices were in gibberish but they made me scream and i could we the same happening to everyone around me, they were screaming and crying, and I could see blood tears coming out of their eyes. 2. It was a short dream but it was very realistic, I couldn't sleep the whole night after that, I was walking around the road, probably taking a job and a white dog, full of dirt came and bit my whole hand, and began biting my head, I knew it was a dream the moment this happened but I couldn't wake up at all, it was like I was being forced to stay asleep and witness all the pain. Now, I am not someone who gets scared that easily but this has been troubling me a lot. Can anyone tell me what do these dreams mean? And if they have any connection with the supernatural world if it exists?

This is mostly a rant about the grief I feel about losing a couple of my friends. In general I’m a fierce friend, very loyal and very supportive to the circle of people I call my own. It just so happened that over the past year I realized how I was putting in way more effort into a couple of friendships than I was getting happiness out of it, but I was doing it because I wanted to be a good friend. Over time I started putting myself first and enforcing boundaries about what I can and cannot do and that has eventually resulted in me losing touch with those friends. Which confirms my initial instinct that they were my friends because of all the effort I was putting in!
Friend A (30F), B (28F) and C(27F) have all been good friends of mine for years, one of them since school and one since college. I have gone above and beyond for them whenever they needed me, or they were in trouble. A went through a breakup and I’ve helped her through it, listening to her rants and breakdowns for almost a year. B was depressed for a while so I flew down to stay with her for a bit, cleaned her apartment, got her groceries, took her out to cheer her up. C was struggling a lot in her personal life, she would call me any time of the day/night crying when she was drunk or high and vent to me about how lonely she felt in a new city. so I surprised her with a visit too. I believe I have always been there for them and I’ve been a good friend. I send all of the gifts or a cake for their birthdays, I love making other people feel special on their birthdays.
Recently I had a personal tragedy, and none of them showed up for me. None of them even called me, they only replied to my texts saying no when I asked. C also gossiped about me, which spread, leading to my mom finding out about things she didn’t need to know. It felt like she broke my trust when I confided in her. B never reaches out on her own anyway, she only responds. A and C will only call me when they’re in need of help and crying.
It felt like a slap in the face honestly and now I can’t look at any of them the same way. I stopped initiating anything and none of them reached out. A was calling me while I was dealing with my personal tragedy asking for help with her issues. So I started enforcing boundaries and saying no when I didn’t have the mental space to deal with them. I had a conversation about this with A and how I felt and basically she said she didn’t feel welcome enough because if I wanted her to be there for me I would have arranged for her stay but I didn’t. This felt like a further reason for me to put myself first because clearly even when I was in need, A expected me to think of her first. B just didn’t reach out at all and when I asked she said she didn’t have enough PTOs. C texted me because she was mad that she heard it from someone else first and said she would have come if I had called her and told her personally. At this point I got really mad because I was dealing with my own issues and she was expecting me to put her first, so I told her what I expected from her and the rest was up to her, but she’s not going to get some personalized invite before everyone else because this is not about her and to not make it about her. She also got mad and said a lot of things, ultimately saying she wouldn’t come even if she could. In the end my mom called her separately, without me knowing, and asked her to come to be with me so she came. But she didn’t speak to me the entire time. I tried to talk to her and she only talked about herself and what she was doing but she didn’t ask me anything about myself and she said she was only there because my mom asked her.
All of this really opened my eyes about which of my friends genuinely care about me and are there for me, and I have actively started thinking of myself first and drawing boundaries with these friends.
But it also makes me think if I’m being selfish? Like was I good friends with them because I expected something in return, for them to be there for me? And because they weren’t now I’m not able to move past it and see them as friends. I just feel hurt and I’m not sure how to get over this. I don’t think I will ever go back to how I was with them, because I don’t feel that kinda love for them anymore. So does that mean my love for them was fickle? Am I a terrible person? Because I’m sure in their eyes I seem like someone who has just reduced contact with them because ONCE they weren’t there for me. And now I’ve basically lost them as friends. Why can I not get over this?
TL;DR: Enforced boundaries with friends who were taking me for granted and now I feel guilty