Previous Part
“I knew it, I knew he’d pull something like that!”
Was the only thought running through my head as I watched Keith get forced into the truck outside. I was scared for Keith and I was angry, that kind of anger you feel in the pit of your stomach. Not at Keith though, my fury was directed at myself for freezing again. I just sat in the window and watched him get taken. Headache or not I should’ve done something, anything! Instead I just sat there and watched, powerless as always. My first instinct was to go running back home, maybe Frank and Stein could help somehow. Imagine my surprise when I walked in the door and they were looking for me. Well maybe I wasn’t to surprised, I hadn’t told them I didn’t plan on coming back home when I left yesterday.
“Bianca! We were just going to come looking for you, Keith had this idea and… are you alright?”
Frank asked, concern covering his face like a shadow. I must’ve looked like a mess, and the hot wet feeling on my face told me I’d started crying at some point on my way over as well.
“Are you ok? Did something happen?”
Frank repeated in his best fatherly voice. I could barley stammer out the words.
“Keith… gone… they took him.”
My babbling was enough though, realization shown on both their faces. Stein said something to Frank that I couldn’t hear then they nodded to each other.
“He was almost spot on with the timing. Well we best start getting around to do our part then.”
Stein said in his usual uncaring and mildly haughty manner. I don’t know why but it really boiled my blood this time. Keith was gone and he’s just moving on with things?
“Does no-one care about what just happened?! We agreed to look out for him and what did we do? Nothing!”
I screamed at no-one in particular. Those two just gave me a look like I was a misbehaving child.
“We’ve done what we could Bianca, besides Keith is the one who suggested what we’re about to do next.”
Frank stated, in an even and calm tone that made me stop and realize how ridiculous I was acting. Freaking out wouldn’t get us anywhere, even though I really wanted to. So I took a deep breath and stepped back for a second to collect myself.I hated to admit it but in a way their cold, calculating, order of operations approach would probably help here. Those two would never crack under pressure like me. While they didn’t talk about it, I’m sure they’d seen far worse working with the government.
Stein was rushing around looking for car keys when I came back into the kitchen. Frank however, stopped what he was doing to come over to me. I held up my hand to stop him when he opened his mouth to say something.
“No, you don’t have to try and convince me, I’ll come with you. What was Keith’s plan anyways? What did he put you guys up to?”
I asked, much calmer than before but still a little on edge. I couldn’t help but to feel at least a little responsible for what happened to Keith. I know it wasn’t my fault but I came with him for a reason. As much fun as last night had been I wasn’t taking it seriously. I should’ve stayed up to watch for Shaoni, maybe looked around for something she left when she was there before. Regardless, I had to be better next time.
“Keith thought that maybe someone from the reservation a little while outside town may have heard legends about Shaoni. She’s the Thunderbird, that’s an important figure in their stories and legends. Being so close to where she had been sleeping for years he thought there might be a connection. So he asked us to go out and ask around.”
Stein answered me before Frank had a chance to, walking into the room and tossing a jacket my way.
“And put this on, its cold out there.”
It was actually funny how often Stein tried to care and actually came off as so much colder. Almost like he was doing it because he had to, not because he actually cared about me.
“Don’t mind him, he’s just stressed with everything going on lately.”
Frank explained, trying to comfort me. He was right of course, but it didn’t change the fact that it still rubbed me the wrong way.
Ten minutes later I was in the car headed out toward the reservation. It wasn’t a very eventful ride and the pine trees didn’t make for great scenery, I’d seen it all before anyways. Frank and Stein were quiet the whole time and we couldn’t find Rocco before we left. Part of me wondered where he was and part of me didn’t want to know. This gave my mind time to wander and I found myself thinking my life before meeting Frank and Stein. It was weird, I usually tried not to think about it at all but something had brought those memories roaring back. Probably due to Keith asking about it the other day. No-one ever seemed to care about that, my past that is. Every now and then I’d get bored and wander around town. Someone might come up to me and talk but not like Keith did. The only real questions they asked were usually something along the lines of “What’re you doing tonight?” And other variations of that. They were usually looking for something I had no interest in. Sometimes it wasn’t entirely their choice to talk to me. I’d just use my powers simply to have a conversation with someone. Keith actually cared about me though, at least I think so.
A loud honk broke me out of my trance, we had arrived on the reservation. The improvised trailer park we’d arrived in wasn’t much to look at. A dog or two ran around the cluttered ground, free from any sort of leash. An older car missing most of the front end sat raised on a few blocks of concrete. The trailers themselves were run down and rusted. Despite the sorry sight of the place three men sat around a fire, laughing and generally having a great time. The trio looked up as we walked over, recognition passing over their faces. We must’ve looked out of place here in our shiny SUV and Frank and Stein’s three piece suits. Those two were always overdressed when they went out. The only place they fit in was the lab and they seemed more than fine with that.
“Stein! Is that you?”
Exclaimed the man on the left, standing to meet us. He looked happy to see Stein, though I had never seen the guy before in my life. Which meant he must’ve been a friend from before I knew Stein.
“My friend! How have you been? Have you had any difficulties with your… condition.”
Stein replied, cutting his eyes at the other two men like he didn’t trust them.
“They know old friend, no need to beat around the bush here.”
He had to have some supernatural abilities, that’s the only way Stein knew anyone. The question was, what was he?
The man’s name was Sam, Frank told me as we joined the men at the fire. I asked him for more, like what he meant by condition but he wouldn’t budge. Condition usually meant supernatural but a lot of them just looked like normal people. I’m sure everyone has some picture of a succubus in their head and I’m… not that. So I couldn’t even begin to guess at what Sam’s “condition” was.
“So what brings you out here Stein? I hate to say it, but I never expected to see you again.”
Sam said, trying to be as friendly as possible while ultimately telling Stein he didn’t really want him here. He didn’t feel nervous, that much I sensed for sure. No, it was fear that drove him to try and push Stein away, but what did he have to be afraid of?
“I assure you I’ll be gone before I overstay my welcome. I just have a few questions I’d like answers to. It’s entirely possible that you know nothing as well, in which case I’ll be gone even sooner. But you wouldn’t lie to me just to see me gone, now would you?”
Stein almost threatened, some of the friendliness slipping out of his voice. There was more going on here than what I could see or even sense. I’ve got a really good sense of what people are feeling at any given time but the context of those feelings can get lost on me. Sam was feeling fear, way too much fear for the situation. Maybe he knew what Stein was going to ask but I couldn’t tell for sure. I looked to the two scientists, cutting my eyes from Frank to Stein trying to see if they wanted me to step in and calm them down.
“Stein… I can’t… if she knew I talked to you she’d come here. The things I’ve done… what you helped me stop doing. She wouldn’t see it that way if she came here… she would…”
Sam blubbered out, completely losing his composure before Stein raised a hand and cut him off.
“She? You mean Shaoni, we’re aware of what’s going on. We still do have some questions about her though, ones I hope you have answers to.”
At the mention of her name all three men shot up, so I stepped forward. Frank protested but he was to slow to stop me. It’s difficult to describe how I can make people do what I want, these days I just kind of will it to happen and it does. I can force an emotion, or a feeling onto someone else by imagining it myself and projecting it onto them. Frank and Stein think it has something to do with pheromones my body produces. These pheromones can induce certain emotions or feelings if I want them too. In this case I wanted these men to feel tired, cooperative, compliant, and that’s just what they became. Just as soon as they tried to stand they buckled to their knees. I was pushing a little to hard so I eased up a bit, I didn’t want to just put them to sleep or something. Sam got back to his feet and sat down in his chair as the others did the same.
“I’d like to know about Shaoni, The full story, as much as you know.”
I commanded more than asked Sam as he just nodded towards me, a vacant look in his eyes.
“Where should I start exactly little lady?”
Sam asked me, his tone a mix of nervous and compliant.
“I want to know what you know about her, all of it, then we’ll go.”
I answered, trying to ignore the looks Frank and Stein were giving me. They knew I was taking a risk, he didn’t want to share what he knew so I was forcing it out of him. He wanted to tell me now but it wasn’t really “him”. I was in his head, and while he wasn’t going to fight me on anything now, I was sure a part of him was screaming deep down. Fighting desperately to keep his mouth shut to avoid the consequences of telling me anything. I tried not to think about what I was doing to him as Sam began his story.
“Well to start her name wasn’t always Shaoni, It’s hard to keep one name when you’ve lived as long as her. Her name meant “Stormcaller” as near as it translates to your language. She was an elder in a long forgotten tribe in what you know as Canada today. She was renowned for her ability to over see trials and solve debates among her people, always able to set right apart from wrong. The exact name and place of her tribe have been lost to the ages but I do know that it was wiped out. As the story goes the tribe met its end at the hands of “explorers”, all save for Stormcaller were killed. She fled far into the forests and eventually stumbled upon four spirits, the original Thunderbirds. At this time they were still great spirits, created by Nanabozho. Those spirits took pity on Stormcaller, allowing her to live with them in the four corners of the world. With them she learned many things, how to fight, how to think as only a spirit can, and most of all she sharpened her already formidable sense of justice. That need to see justice done, and the proper sense to see what was right from what was wrong is what lead the chief of the Thunderbird spirits to bind itself to her, giving her the powers she’s said to have today, letting her exist as spirit and man made one.
The other Thunderbird spirits eventually followed this example, choosing representatives of their own, each representing an Ideal: Courage, so that our people would never falter in the face of adversity. Solidarity, so that, divided as they may be at times our people were one at heart. Duty, so that our people would never forget their place in the world and the customs and traditions we upheld. Finally there was Justice to lead them all, so that no wrong would be left to stand, and so that one among the ideals would keep the rest in check. These four formed a council that watched over our people for many years.
As imperialism grew in the world and more crimes were committed against their people this council became more and more warlike. Often Stormcaller, now simply known as Justice spearheaded these actions. She sought to right the wrongs committed against her people and hold all responsible accountable for their actions. In accordance with her duties as the embodiment of justice for our people. This war of hers would prove to be her downfall, every day her sense of justice became more absolute, more black and white. She stopped consulting the council to help guide her decisions, believing she and she alone knew what was best for her people and fellow ideals. One thing that changed when the Thunderbird spirits bound themselves was their immutability. As a spirt nothing could harm them, they were eternal, they were and always would be. But once they had become one with a man they could be ended, They would live forever but man’s mortality meant they could be killed unlike before. Something Justice would learn for herself in time.
As her warlike nature grew, Justice began to involve the ideals in open conflict with those who sought to take their peoples land and desecrate their way of life. Eventually Solidarity fell in battle, and those who saw him fall learned of the greater forces at play. These people sought to learn the truth of the power the had seen from Solidarity and doubled their intrusions into sacred land, searching for answers. Suddenly the hunters had become the hunted, perhaps if Justice had not clung so tightly to her convictions everything would’ve ended differently. Instead Justice doubled down on her pursuit to right every wrong she could lay her eyes upon, spurred on by the death of Solidarity. Eventually Courage fell and so to did Duty, only hardening Justice’s resolve. It was only when she revealed herself to her people one day and they fled from her, afraid of what she would do. Afraid that they to had committed some wrong that she sought to right in her own violent way. This reception forced Justice to realize what she had allowed herself to become. Justice had become Vengeance, lost in anger for wrongs she could never hope to right she had lost herself, becoming something else entirely.
She shed her name, her duties, her people and disappeared into the world. Watching what would come for her people broke her. She had lost what she sought to guide and guard, let the people the Thunderbird spirits sought to protect so long ago fall to ruin. Her need to see justice done never left her, but what was once a raging inferno became nothing more than a spark. If she came across one that had escaped justice, hidden their tracks or found a way out she would know. She would right the smaller wrongs of the world in her own way, stoking what remained of the flame within and finding her own purpose in the world. Eventually she would take on a new name, Shaoni, why I do not know but it is what she choose. Her sense of justice was still absolute, she saw no shades of grey just right and wrong. But the scale of her judgment was reduced, no longer would she try and right every wrong the world had to offer but only those she could reach. The world is a dark place though, and sometimes a lesser evil can ease pain. Shaoni didn’t see lesser evil as something she could abide and so her judgements often left more pain in their place. She grew weary of her pursuit once again, seeing how little she had changed and how much pain she had brought. She chose to settle down and remove herself from the world. Shaoni would never be able to die, not from the passing of time. She could remove herself from the equation in a cave not to far from where we stand now.”
Sam’s story hurt to listen too, in some ways it only seemed like Shaoni did what she thought was right. Yet time and time again she failed to see shades of grey, and that cost her everything. It made me think of who I was years ago in a way, not that I was some all powerful spirit thing like her but still. What would Shaoni think of the person I was? How would she judge me for my actions before I meet Frank and Stein? I certainly wasn’t a saint, but did that mean I couldn’t be better? I shook my head, now wasn’t the time to think of things like that. I stopped forcing Sam to answer my question, leaving him to his own devices. There was always some lingering effects after I… did my thing. I’m not sure how exactly it felt for them but I don’t imagine it was pleasant. Realizing you weren’t really in control of yourself has a way of causing issues for a person. Sam seemed to be shaking it off pretty well though, I’d seen worse things happen after I’d finished with someone, like Keith losing hours of time sitting in the kitchen. Playing with emotions can cause stress in the brain, especially since I’m forcing an emotion or feeling on them. More than once I’d seen someone left with uncontrollable swings in mood or a complete lack of emotion or feeling of any sort because of me. I hopped that wasn’t going to happen again here.
“Bianca what was that!”
Frank complained, finally breaking free of the spell the situation had cast over him. He ran over to the other two men that hadn’t gotten up from their chairs like Sam. Worry crashed over me like a wave as I realized why Frank sounded so concerned. One of the men was seizing on the ground, his body shaking violently as spasms coursed through him, had I done that? Sam was in a blissfully ignorant sate, he just sat in his chair watching the fire, unaware of what was happening to his friend. Frank and Stein leapt into action, holding the seizing man on the ground. Stein pulled off his belt and placed it in the mans mouth, trying to keep him from biting himself. My eyes were fixed on the third man who lay motionless on the ground. I took small steady steps toward him, hoping against hope that I could find a pulse. As I got closer I realized his chest was rising and falling. He was alive but who knew what he was going through right now. I felt distant, Frank was yelling something at me but I didn’t catch a word. I had to do it right? I had to make them tell us what they knew, it could help Keith right?
“What did you do to them?”
Sam asked me, apparently free of the aftereffects of my influence. I snapped my head to the side and watched him take a threatening step towards me. I backed away, afraid he might do something rash. I shouldn’t have done that, Stein could’ve convinced them on his own.
“What did you do to them? What’s wrong with them?”
Sam asked again, his voice growing more desperate. Stein picked that moment to appear at my side.
“Sam they’ll be ok just give them a minute. She didn’t mean to hurt you or your friends, just let it go. I’m helping her the same way I helped you, she’s not always in control.”
Sam softened a little bit at that but he was still wary of me. What Stein said was a lie, I had control of my abilities most of the time these days but Sam didn’t know that. Frank walked over to where we were standing with a relieved look on his face.
“They’ll be alright, they just need rest. What about you, are you feeling alright Sam?”
Frank asked, nodding towards him. Sam didn’t answer but it was plain to see he was doing far better than his friends.
“I’d like you all to leave.”
Sam ordered, putting his metaphorical foot down. Whatever favor he owed Stein didn’t matter anymore, he wanted us out. People were beginning to come out of some of the other trailers, gawking at the scene in front of them. As the three of us were leaving Sam said one more thing,
“Stein, this makes us even.”
He growled in an even but angry tone. You could just tell he was staring daggers at us the whole way back to the SUV. I turned back for a moment and I could’ve sworn his skin was wriggling and changing. Like he was just barley holding back something. What concerned me even more was what he felt, not anger or worry, but fear.
The ride back was less than pleasant. You know that feeling when you’ve done something wrong but no one really wants to address it yet? Yeah, that’s what was going on here, the air was practically electric.
“We needed him to talk…”
Stein cut me off immediately, shouting,
“Sometimes you don’t need to help! Look… I know you meant well but you can hurt people with that power of yours. I’ve never seen it that bad before but then again you’ve never done it to a group of people that long. Who knows what longterm consequences it might have. Just… be more careful in the future.”
Stein wasn’t as angry as he tried to appear, part off him was even relived, maybe because I had been the one to handle the situation instead of him.
“I know, I know its just… Keith is stuck out there at that mine with her, I couldn’t leave with nothing.”
I agreed, He was right, it was a risk but how could I have just let it be? No-one else was going to look out for him so that fell on us now. As much as I hated having to force things out of people I was good at it, really good. Despite how I felt about what I could do to people that was the easiest way to get Sam to speak back there.
“Where did this whole drive to help Keith come from anyways? A few days ago you talk him into watching the house and throw some money, our money, at him for the trouble. I’ve seen you do that a few times before with others so you could come with us when we went to stock up on things. Regardless of our misgivings surrounding your methods. So it didn’t go that well this time and he found out about you and us. Something like that was bound to happen eventually. What I can’t picture is why you go out of your way to help him. I don’t personally have any issue with you jumping to his defense. Its not too hard to understand why someone would, considering his situation. But for you, well it seems out of character for you.”
Frank chimed in with a question of his own. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it hurt to see him so surprised that I’d consider helping another person.
I never answered Frank’s question, I thought about it a lot the rest of the way back though. Why was I so intent on helping Keith? All my life I’d done things just to survive, even when I was really young I had to find a way to get by on my own. Sure I had my mother but she had her hands full with her own life. She didn’t have much after my father left and did everything she could to make ends meet. I just tried to stay out of her way and help where I could. I never complained when she forgot to make dinner, or when there just wasn’t food around the house. I’d just go without or take what I needed from someone else. Even back then I knew it was wrong but I always had looks on my side. Combine that with pity and not a lot of people would say no to the cute hungry kid. After Brooke, I only had myself and I just kept doing what I needed to. This was different though, I didn’t have to help Keith but I wanted to help him all the same. I didn’t get around town much and I always felt like I just existed around Frank and Stein. With Keith I wasn’t just this thing lying around the house, I was a person, a friend even. That was it, the first time it really clicked for me, Keith was my friend, not because I had wanted him to be or because I made him think he was. No, he was actually there for me and it was all his choice. I didn’t have to puppet him around myself, he actually wanted to be there. I didn’t have to wonder if it was just me and everything I could do pulling him in. For the first time in years someone had actually cared enough to ask about me, Frank and Stein never really did because they knew how much it hurt. Keith didn’t know how much it hurt to talk about but still. I needed to actually talk about all that happened to me with someone who listened for real.
Coming to that realization only made me want to do something stupid. Like run up to that mine and try to get Keith out of there myself. But that’s exactly what it was, stupid. If we wanted to get Keith back we’d need something better than just me. We’d need a real plan, one I’d just started thinking of. There was something else eating at me to. Keith had offered to take some burden from Shaoni back in Imalone, I had an idea what it might be and it scared me. If I was right well, Keith was in more danger than we all thought.
When we pulled back into the driveway Tuck was waiting at the door.
“Where’ve Y’all been?! I been lookin’ for ya damn near all afternoon! Somein’ happened o’re at Keith’s place, He’s gone. I cain’t find that “lab assistant” of yours neither.”
Tuck said hurriedly, his southern accent that he usually tried to hide seeping out into his words.
“We know, it was those trials he told us about. I presume he told you as well then?”
Stein informed him as he got out of the car and marched towards the door, barely making eye contact. Stein had an idea, I could read it all over him. He got this way when he was away from home and wanted too test something, once he was back there was no standing between him and his lab.
“Yeah, the kid told me something like that. Would explain where all those people were goin’ to. Couple of the regulars in town, ones I know look up to that damn bird, left this morning headin’ towards the old mines.”
Tuck spoke to no one in particular, nodding to himself as if to check off the fact that Keith disappearing and people leaving town were two related things.
“Why don’t you come in then, you might be able to help out with the situation. We just learned a few things about this… “damn bird” of yours. I really would’ve appreciated if you told us about that years ago. Perhaps you’d like to tell us what you know of the Thunderbird in the lab?”
Stein ordered rather than asked, pointing to the door for no more than a moment before continuing on his march to the basement. Frank and I filed in after them but I didn’t join them in the lab.
I looked around the house for Rocco but couldn’t find a trace. It wasn’t like him not to leave some trail of destruction in his wake. Well hidden or not, we usually found evidence of whatever he was up to but this time there was nothing. I had no clue where he’d gotten off to, maybe I was better off not knowing. After I gave up I joined the others in the basement, to their surprise I actually had decided to make an appearance. Frank and Stein were a little rattled at first but soon went back to their work. Tuck just beamed at me proudly, like he knew something I didn’t. We set about comparing notes on Shaoni, and separating fact from fiction based on Frank and Stein’s many years working with the supernatural. It was… nice, in a family bonding kind of way. Keith had brought us all together, gave these scientist a new problem to solve. Gave Tuck a chance for some kind of justice for the friends he’d lost in the mine collapse all those years ago. For me, he’d brought me together with the family I’d fallen in with. Strange as they were, this was my family, or at least the closest thing I had to it. I had to help, not just for Keith but for them. I’d been a burden, scared to go outside, hateful of what I could do despite using it to make life easier for myself. Worst of all I’d been stuck in my own head, I’d gone through awful things, done awful things, used my body and my charm to get through life. I’d been every bit as evil as Brooke had been to me. I did everything he’d done to me to others, only it was so much easier for me to do it. I hate myself for it, maybe I always would, but I couldn’t let that stop me now. I had to set all that aside and be there for the people in my life, I had to be a person again, not just hope everyone would treat me like one.

First of all, I wanted to thank everyone for their kind words and support from the last post. A lot has happened since then, and a bunch of context is needed, so I hope you'll bear with me as I explain the details.
***
Back during the peak of the blinking crisis, I remember having a lot of difficulty sleeping. It was common for me to average only four or five hours a night, and the little sleep I did get was marred by terrible nightmares. One in particular recurred many times.
I was only eight, but somehow I was in the driver's seat of our family's old SUV. My arms were long enough to steady the wheel, but my legs didn't quite meet the pedals. It didn't matter though, since the car seemed content to continue on at a constant pace. I looked over and saw my mom in the passenger seat. Her face was a blurry likeness pieced together from the dozen or so picture's I'd seen of her over the years. I tried to bring her into focus, not only because I missed her dearly, but because she was speaking—pleading, even. She waved frantically at me, then brought her leg up and slammed it down on the floor mat several times. I didn't understand what had her so upset until she pointed out the front windshield, and I saw we were hurdling directly toward a giant tree that had fallen in the middle of the road.
Panicking, I stomped for the brake, but my seatbelt protested and pulled me back like an invigorated dog on a short leash. I sat up and tried clicking it off, but it wouldn't budge. My breaths became hollow cries, and I felt my heart beat against the bars of its bony prison. I grabbed the steering wheel and pulled it to the left, then right, attempting to swerve off the road, but it was as if whatever kind of glue was locking up the seatbelt was also fixing the steering wheel in place.
"Mom! what do I do!?" I yelled, tears streaming from my eyes. She was yelling back at me, but it was as if there was a divider between us, and neither of us could hear each other. I turned back just in time to see the giant Oak tree meet the front bumper, and then I jolted awake with a piercing pain in my chest that radiated up through my throat in the form of a giant scream. My little legs kicked under the covers and tears rained down on my pillow until my dad ran in and knelt at my bed.
"Lauren, are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?"
I grabbed my pillow and hugged it so my face was covered, then effused a "Mmm-hmm" in a long wheeze while rocking to either side.
"Oh, honey," he soothed and brushed my hair, then the tears from my face when I would allow it.
Time would pass in silence, and when I began to get the sense that my dad was ready to leave, I'd chirp out, "stay" in that way children do when they're embarrassed about wanting something.
"Always," my dad would reply; then he'd post up on the floor with my large tomato plushie as a pillow.
One night in particular, it was deep in the night, and I had woken to a tapping sound outside my window. I was so afraid that a monster had snuck into my room while I wasn't looking that I made him lay next to me and face outward. I'd peek my eyes open every minute or so to check and make sure my dad was there, staking out the room. Eventually, he rolled in close and said something that I still remember to this day.
"Hey, baby, guess what." he whispered.
"Mmm" I mumbled.
"I think you scared the monster away."
I tried to picture this through the fog of my fatigue. Something seemed off about the statement, like it wasn't logically possible, but before I could piece together the words to express that, my dad cut back in.
"It was scared because it realized you're a superhero. And you know what your greatest superpower is?"
I shook my head, making sure to rub my forehead against his shoulder so he could sense it in the dark room.
"You're greatest power is that you get to tell the monsters what to do. Because the monsters are only as strong as the stories you tell about them. And there's all kinds of stories. Happy ones. Sad ones. Scary ones. Tell me, this monster you think snuck in, would you say he's part of a scary story?"
"I don't know," I said, confused. "Maybe"
"Hmm," he hummed, contemplating. "Well, I want you to remember this. You have the ability to tell any kind of story you want. Maybe there are monsters, but that means there's heroes and angels, too, right?"
I was beginning to doze off to the comforting sound of my dad's deep voice, but I gave another affirmative "Mm-hmm".
"So, if you're ever scared, honey, just dream up a better story. A story that will bring you peace. Do you understand?"
But I was already out.
***
I woke up the next morning to the feeling that someone was in the hotel room with me. The drapes were drawn and the only sound was the AC unit blowing cold air, but when I looked toward the dark corner of the empty coat rack, my mind conjured the face of my dad, smiling at me, chanting that same, awful line—Oh, Lauren… you know who we are.
I was no longer a child, but it took a couple minutes of cold focus before I muscled the courage to ascend from the safety of my covers and flick on the lamp light. The small amber radius extended to where my dad's feet would have been if he was standing there. But there was no one. I let out a sigh and collapsed back onto the mattress, thinking back on all those years growing up. The same man who had helped me conquer my fear of the dark was now the monster hiding in its shadow.
I looked over my shoulder and saw the clock read 10:15. My meeting with Trent was in three hours. I moaned and stretched my arms back until they knocked against the headboard, then I collapsed back onto the mattress, meditating, gathering energy like a compressed spring. All at once, I jumped up and glided over to the drapes, opening them in a single, fluid motion. I grimaced at the sunlight, but the warmth felt good against my face. I stopped by the nightstand and gulped down the final few swigs of a bottle of Mello Yello that I had purchased from a vending machine the previous night, then undressed and hopped in the shower.
The warm water wasn't enough to wash away the previous night's memories. When I closed my eyes to lather my hair, I was back in my living room, standing opposite the demon that had taken on my dad's form. His smile. His laugh. It was like someone in my head was flipping a switch between the man I loved growing up and a terrible monster. But the fear was more powerful. I heard something drop onto the tile floor on the other side of the curtain. The noise made me gasp, and I opened my eyes while shampoo was still streaming down my face. I swiped the shampoo out of my now burning eyes and squinted at the curtain, trying to see through it, but I couldn't make anything out. "I-is anyone," I started, trembling, afraid to finish the sentence. I reached out and pinched the end of the curtain. My heart was in overdrive. I swallowed, then pulled it toward me and peeked out. I scanned the room, but I couldn't see anything out of place.
It wasn't until after I finished showering and wound myself up in one of the hotel's too-small towels that I saw what had made the noise. I bent down and picked up the stub of a razor blade that had fallen onto the tile right next to the puffy, gray shower rug. It wasn't mine, and I was pretty sure hotels didn't keep unguarded razor blades just laying around. When I held it up, it occurred to me that if it had simply fallen a few inches to the left, it would have been buried in the rug, and perhaps I would have stepped on it. I stared at myself in its steely reflection. Cold. Lonely. Small. What if I—was all I was able to think before the blade blinked out of my hand.
I threw on some clothes, packed up the few belongings I had into my purse, then checked out of my room. I didn't feel safe going back home after what happened, but I also didn't want to go anywhere else. I got in my car and drove aimlessly up and down the town's streets, focusing only on the car ahead of me. Anytime I started to travel down an avenue of thought, I'd make a turn, or speed up, or hit the brakes: anything to keep my mind distracted. It was sweltering outside, but I'd turn the heat on for minutes at a time until I felt drenched, then toggle max AC until I was cool, then back to heat. I repeated the basic driving tenet "10 and 2", "10 and 2", "10 and 2" like a mantra—a chant to focus my attention on a single point, and then I pictured that point disappearing. I began to think that maybe I wanted to disappear.
I fully intended to keep going that way until 1:00, but after about thirty minutes, my meandering route had led me to St. Mark's Catholic Church, where a large group of people were gathered around a long line of tables in front of the building. I slowed down. At the front of the venue was a large, white cardboard sign which read, "Plant a Seed, Share the Joy". I wasn't sure what that meant, but my boredom had come to a head, and I rationalized that if there's any place on God's green earth that would be safe, it was this one. I parked along the closest side-street, then walked over to the church.
Rows of white tables were covered with cardboard boxes filled with small plants that were wrapped up in individual paper pots. I watched from a distance as people behind the tables carefully removed the plants, one by one, and offered them to passersby. I continued down the line, a sheep in the herd, and allowed myself to sink into childhood memories. I had somehow made it out the other end near the Narthex when I heard a woman's voice call to me.
"Hey, deary, have you gotten one yet?"
I turned and saw a small, gray-haired lady with rose-colored glasses. "Oh, no," I started, attempting to decline, then paused. The old lady grabbed one of the plants and held it out for me.
"Here," she said. "Come on, I won't bite."
As far as you know, I thought, and stumbled forward with a sigh. "Thanks," I said and took the plant. "What is this all for, anyway?"
"It's a giveaway," the old woman responded. "Staff have been growing these plants—tomatoes and garlic, mainly—so they could offer them to members of the Parish. The idea is to have the members grow the produce, then donate it to St. Mark's Food Pantry to give to those in need."
"Oh, that's actually pretty cool." I replied and inspected my plant which was at present nothing more than a small green stem. "So which kind is this one?"
"That one is—" the old lady stopped and inspected the other plants near where she had grabbed mine—"tomato."
"Tomato," I repeated. "Well, thanks again."
"Of course, dear." the old lady beamed. "We're all responsible for each other."
I nodded, then continued back through the crowd toward my car when, through the large vestibule windows, I saw a Priest speaking to a young couple. It had been a little over a decade since I had attended a service (I stopped going during High School when I started studying other religions), and I didn't recognize this Priest. He was short (just over five feet tall), bald, and African American. He wore the customary black robe and white collar, and there was something in his smile and the way seemed to be affirming the couple that made me yearn to speak with him. I considered for a moment, a bit embarrassed to be stepping back into church after all this time, but the thought of being able to burn ten minutes talking with someone who might have some insight into my situation was too tempting to pass up.
I waited near a portrait of Mary Magdalene, my tomato plant in hand, staring off at the pristine series of stained glass images portraying the death and resurrection of Jesus. About a minute in, the Priest met my eyes; he smiled, his way of telling me he knew I was waiting, then finished up with the couple and made his way over. He had a bit of an accent when he spoke—it was Ugandan, from best I could tell—and a proclivity for laughing at the end of his sentences.
"Hello, Miss, I don't believe I've had the privilege," he said and held out his hand. He leaned in as he spoke, and his smile tugged on the corners of his eyes which were already marked with use.
I shook his hand and returned what I'm sure was a weak smile. "No, I don't think so. My name's Lauren. I used to come here when I was little. It's—been a while."
"Well, I see you picked a good day to visit. If you're into gardening, that is." He remarked with a laugh and gestured toward the plant. "It's nice to meet you, Lauren. My name's Martin—Father Martin, if you prefer."
"Father Martin," I repeated, "I have a friend named Martin. It's a good name."
He laughed and said, "Thank you, I'll pass that one along to my mother. She loves the praise."
I laughed back. He carried himself in such a carefree way that I was put immediately at ease. Almost to the point where I forgot what I wanted to talk to him about. "Um," I started, attempting to word my question in a way that didn't sound like I needed psychiatric help. "I have a couple of religious questions for you, if you have time."
"That's what I'm for. Ask away."
"They're about… miracles. Like the ones in the Bible. I was wondering, do you think that miracles still happen today?"
"Miracles, huh," he started. "You mean like water into wine?"
"Kind of, yeah,"
"Hmm…" he contemplated. "Well, I haven't seen them, myself. You know, I may be a Priest, but I also have a degree in Physics. I think God made the world according to laws, right? But I do think God has the power to intervene. Yes. I just have never seen it… like … you know, the biblical type of miracles. To me, there are miracles happening all around us—miracles we can't see."
"Exactly," I responded, thinking about how no one else could see the blinks, "those kinds of miracles. What are those miracles we can't see?"
One of Father Martin's eyebrows raised and he rubbed his chin. "Well, I think the greatest miracle is the miracle of God's love which was perfected in Christ and offered to each of us. It's his power to heal even the most troubled mind. By coming into alignment with God's will for us, we can see the true purpose of this existence."
No, he's not getting it, I thought. I scrambled to my other entry-point. "What about the story of Job? God made a bet with the Devil that Job would stay faithful to him no matter what the Devil did to him. Do you think that kind of situation is possible?"
Father Martin's expression drooped into a concerned frown. "There's quite the difference between miracles and the story of Job. I suppose I see what you're getting at, though. Job's suffering is in some ways the antithesis to positive miracles. In this life, we are tested, sometimes to the point of losing everything, but even that person who has more reason to hate God than anyone else can once again find peace and eternal happiness through faith. In fact, it's often the person who is lowest in the pit of suffering that needs the Light of Christ more than anyone else."
I thought back on the first night that I prayed. It was in my moment of greatest helplessness that I reached out to God, and I thought I had found my answer in Him. But now, after what happened last night, after all these years of chaos—not merely losing things that were important to me, but my very sanity—I needed more than just blind faith. I couldn't just sit idly by and hope things would get better. I smiled at the Priest and said, "Thank you, Father, this has been very insightful."
"Of course, sister. I'm sorry if I couldn't have been of more help."
"No, I think I understand now. I've been… wrestling with something, and I think God wants me to confront it. I think I've been running away and hiding from it for so long that I'd convinced myself it disappeared."
Father Martin nodded in understanding. "Well, in that case, will you let me leave you with a prayer?"
I was a bit taken off guard by the request, but I accepted. "Sure, Father."
I watched as he made the sign of the cross, then he lifted his hands and closed his eyes. "Dear God, I am so happy to have had the privilege of meeting with Lauren today, especially on a day such as this where we are offering gifts for those who need them. You have heard her desire to confront the things that are troubling her. I ask that you bless her with strength and peace and a clear conscience, that she may overcome these challenges. God, bless us with your spirit, that we may see your hand in our lives. Amen."
"Amen," I said.
As I was leaving, Father Martin called out to me and said, "Oh, just so you know, this Friday at 7 we are having a barbecue at the Parish Center. I would love to see you there, if you're able and wanting."
Turning back, I smiled and said, "Oh, ok, thanks Father. I'll think about it."
The priest nodded, and with a smile, he sent me off.
***
I walked into the Deli at 1:00 on the dot. The customers who had arrived for the lunch rush were already cleaning up their trash and heading out. I dodged past a few of them on my way down the long, narrow path leading to the front counter. While I waited behind a couple of elderly folk who were picking which soup they wanted to pair with their Ultimate Grilled Cheese, I looked around for Trent. He hadn't sent me a picture or any way of contacting him throughout the day, so I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but I figured I'd see some man half-hidden behind a newspaper, scouting me out. Maybe I watch too many movies, I thought.
"Ahem, ma'am. You're up." croaked the teenager behind the register.
"Oh, right, sorry" I replied and stepped up to the counter. "Uhh," I muttered, scanning the menu for something that looked edible. "Could I just get…" I made sure to mouth every syllable as they were words of their own.
"We have a deal—the try two combo. Sandwich and a soup for $9.99." the cashier repeated for what was probably the fiftieth time that day.
"Yes, that sounds good. I'll do the Italian sandwich and potato soup. And a drink, please."
After I paid for the food, I wandered around the tables, hoping to find someone who looked like a Trent. I was picturing a short guy, runner's build, with long brown hair, tucked somewhere neatly away in the corner. So I was not prepared when the Hulk's stunt double growled my name from a table smack dab in the middle of the restaurant. He had a pale, square face that was spotted with freckles and a sinking property that comes with the lethal combination of stress and age. His hair was relatively short. Probably it was brown or auburn, but since it was slicked back, it looked almost black. And he wore what looked like janitor coveralls. There was even a cloth tag pinned to his chest which read, "Trent".
"Lauren?" He repeated.
"Yes, that's me." I said and took a seat across from him. I saw a brown tray on the table in front of him, and on the tray was a large, white soup bowl. It was empty and beginning to crust along the edges. He must have been here for some time already. "I didn't know where you'd be, so I was worried we might miss each other. I'm glad you found me though." I said while looking over Trent more thoroughly. His large hands were stretched out in front of him on the table. He wasn't wearing a ring, so he probably wasn't married. And his face, it was stern. He seemed like a no-bullshit kind of guy. Then I saw his eyes. They were sapphire blue—probably the most stunning I'd ever seen.
"We only spoke on the internet, so I hope you don't mind, but I usually run a preliminary test on anyone I meet who claims to have abilities such as yours." Trent said while reaching into his pocket and removing a device that had the size and shape of an electric razor. "All you have to do is look into it. It takes maybe five seconds. Ten at most."
"Oh, um, sure," I said reluctantly. "Do I just—" I asked while reaching for the device.
Trent clicked a button and released the cylindrical head which opened, revealing a glass circle about the size of an iris. "I'll hold it, just look into the center. A red cross should appear, then it'll take the picture."
"Okay…" I replied and did as he instructed, leaning my head forward to look into the device. Sure enough, a red cross appeared. "Is it…" was all I got out before the light turned blue and I saw a gray fog disperse and billow throughout the inside of the tube, extending for what I perceived to be miles. My jaw went slack and I couldn't breathe for maybe five seconds. Then Trent reshuttered the device and turned it over.
"Damn, 72." He said with a hint of shock. "That's the highest I've scanned to date." He looked back at me, more relaxed now, and muttered to himself. "How have you been able to function for this long? At this level, you should basically be half in, half out."
I rubbed my forehead, feeling a mixture of pain and frustration and fatigue and impatience which all poured out at once. "Listen, Trent," I said as sternly as I could, "I came here because you said you knew what was wrong with me and that you could help me. I get you have to make sure I am who I said I am, but now it's your turn to pay up. How do I know you know anything about my condition? You said my mom might still be alive. What does that even mean? I saw her die right in front of me. I want answers."
I waited for Trent to respond, but he only lifted his head. I turned around and saw a girl holding a tray of food.
"Um, hi, sorry to interrupt. I have an order 36 for Lauren."
"Oh, yes, thank you." I said. The worker placed the tray down on the table in front of me, and when I saw the food, I suddenly realized how hungry I was. Trent must have also realized this, because he folded his arms and said, "go ahead and eat. I'll explain while you do."
I wanted to protest, but my salivating mouth made other plans. "Fine," I said. I grabbed the metal spoon off the tray and started on the soup, bracing against the steaming heat of the potato chunks.
As I ate, Trent moved all of the items on his tray off to the side, then he flipped the tray over so it was raised slightly off the table. He took his cup and placed it face down in the center, then he rolled up a few of his used, blue mayonnaise packets and charted a track across the tray.
"What are you doing?" I croaked out between bites.
Trent ignored me and continued by ripping up a napkin into strips and placing them alongside the mayonnaise packets. Finally, he snapped ten toothpicks in half and stuck them in the tomb of a dozen overlayed napkins. "It's your diorama," he said at last.
"It's my what?"
"From the story you sent me. Your diorama. When I read about it, it gave me a good idea of how to explain the 'blinking'."
I pointed at the cup in the center. "Is that supposed to be a pyramid? Because I'm pretty sure you're in the wrong geometric neighborhood with that one."
"It's an analogy," he said.
"Of an analogy," I quipped back.
"Look," he picked out one of the toothpicks and held it out in front of me. "This could be a person, an animal, a crowbar—whatever you want. The point is, this diorama is a stand in for our universe. This is everything that exists, that we can see. Okay?"
"Okay,"
"Now, me," Trent placed a hand over his heart. "I'm not in the diorama. I don't exist in the universe."
"In the universe where a cup is a pyramid, or the actual universe?" I said, unable to control myself.
Trent grimaced.
"Sorry, keep going. I get it."
"Things pop into," Trent threw the toothpick back onto the tray, "or out of," he picked the toothpick back up, "our universe at will, based on forces," he patted his chest again, "that exist in other realms" he gestured to the room, "that are connected to our universe," he tapped two fingers against the tray. "These things could be objects, like, say, a toothpick, or entities, like the one you encountered yesterday. The blinking experience that you described aligns with the typical experience of a moderate Antenna. That's what I call people like us—Antennas; because we can pick up on signals others can't."
"We—you mean you see the blinking, too?"
"Yes, but not to the same extent as you. If all the blinks are gathered in a giant picture that you can see, I'm traversing the image through binoculars, maybe even a microscope, depending on where we are."
I thought about this. I guess it was possible there were other people like me out there, but since I had never met anyone, I didn't really consider the idea until now. And then for him to say my ability was somehow much stronger than his… "But," I started, "I haven't even seen that many blinks since I was a child. It's just more focused and malicious now."
"Yeah," Trent scratched his head, "that's the thing that got me really interested in you. Somehow you seem to be able to control it without gear, just by praying. And, look, that's all well and good, but I don't want to give you the false impression that I'm some kind of religious leader. I like to look for logical, scientific explanations for things. So that's the frame I'm coming at this from."
I took a sip from my drink. "That's fine," I said, "the truth is that's why I reached out to you in the first place. I wanted an explanation I could understand. An explanation that was directly related to what I'm going through."
"Then we should get along just fine."
I was scooping out the last potato that was stubbornly gliding along the bottom of the bowl when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the old man from the line shooting up from his bench and standing in army-erect form. I felt a tingling sensation tickle the back of my neck. I didn't want to turn toward him. I knew what I'd see if I did. "Trent," I whispered, trying to tip him off.
"Huh?" he grunted. Then when he saw my expression, he snuck his right hand under the table and said, "Do you see it? Is it here?"
I cocked my head to the left, signaling toward the old man that was now facing us, but Trent didn't seem to notice him: his eyes just kept scanning the entire front of the restaurant. Then I saw the old man take a step in our direction.
"Lauuurennnn, oh Lauuuurennnn, I've been looking for you, Laurenn." The old man said in a low, gravelly voice that gave the impression he was gurgling liquid tar. I turned and saw his face. It was cold and expressionless, and a butter knife was poking out of his left fist. When I met his eyes, he smiled that horrible smile."You're a slippery bitch, you know that?" He spat. "Why can't you just stay put? Don't you get tired of running from your old friend? Or have you forgotten about me?"
"Trent," I mumbled out. "Right there."
"And this guy. You think he can help you? He's only here to help himself. If that's not clear, you really are a lost little lamb."
"Quick, give me your hand," Trent instructed.
I was silent, my eyes still pinned to the old man.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk," the demon possessed senior wagged his finger at me, taking a step, then another step, shortening the distance as much as he could while I was entranced. Then, suddenly, he sprinted forward at a speed that shouldn't have been possible for a man his age.
"Trent!" I screamed.
"Lauren, give me your hand!"
I spun around and grabbed Tren'ts outstretched arm just as the old man lifted the butter knife over his head like a pickaxe. Then I saw Trent pull out what looked like a toy gun from under the table and point it at the demon.
"Got you," Trent remarked. I braced for a gunshot, but there was no noise. After a couple seconds, I looked back and saw the old man sitting in the booth opposite his wife, his hand tremoring as he reached for his large drink.
"What did you?" I asked, but Trent was already pulling me out of my seat. "Come on, we have to go," he said, "the effect is temporary, he'll be—"
Before he could get out the last word, I saw the cup-pyramid on Trent's tray blink out of existence. The sound of a plate shattering rang out from a table up ahead. The lone woman standing there slowly turned around, smiling, with a fork in one hand and a piece of the broken plate in the other. Trent shot her with the toy gun as we ran past and then barreled through the front door.
"Where—are we going?" I asked between gasps.
"My van. It's loaded with kit."
"And then where?"
"Your house" replied Trent who stashed his gun back in his pocket and took out a key fob.
"My house? But that's where he—it appeared."
"Yeah, and that's where you banished it."
Trent waved me into the passenger seat of his RAM 3500 Promaster. I noticed right away the dash which looked more like it belonged in a new limited-edition EV than a cargo van. The ignition kicked on automatically, and I heard the beep of a sonar ping precede an English woman's voice calling out like some auxed-in GPS saying, "scanning for anomalies". Trent shifted the van into gear, and I heard the wheels sputter as we accelerated backward and whipped out of the small parking lot.
"What's your address?" Trent asked. I gave it to him, and then speaking to his dash, he said, "Car, take us to ****."
"Redirecting to ****," replied the British woman. "Currently detecting 31 novel emergences. Updating pings every 300 milliseconds. Chance of contact: 0.23%"
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"The van has sensor equipment which can detect blinks. It's much more accurate than either of us."
"And it sees 31?"
"Yes, that's not as many as it sounds." Trent said and tore past a car that blinked out of existence right as we turned onto the main street.
We drove on for another couple minutes, the Englishwoman updating the number of novel emergences every ten seconds or so. Her constant babbling eventually became a comforting background noise, and I was able to think again.
"In the message you sent me, you said my mom may still be alive." I looked at Trent to see if he would react to me bringing her up, but he remained stolid. "What did you mean by that?"
Trent thumbed his steering wheel. "I shouldn't have sent that." He said at last.
"Shouldn't have… What do you mean? You can't just say that now."
Trent took one hand off the wheel and turned toward me. "Look, we're going back to your house because we need to determine your origin point. All Antennas have them. It's a place of high energy where many realms intersect, kind of like a station, and it's the place where you first acquired your abilities. Based on everything you wrote, I'm guessing that place is where the forest where the accident happened when you were a young child. But I need to confirm it. Once I confirm that that's the place…" Trent hesitated.
"Then… what? You want us to go back there? To the place where my mom died, or at least where I think she died until you told me she might be alive but are now taking it back? That place?"
"It's the only way to—"
"Now detecting novel agent," the Englishwoman interrupted. We both perked up as she gave another update. "Net anomalies: 437. Novel Agents: 1. Chance of contact: 78%."
"Shit," Trent muttered. "Car, course correct."
"Attempting course correct to avoid collision. Attempts made: 10, 50, 75, 79… No alternate route detected. Chance of contact: 96%."
"Time until contact?"
"Time until contact: 13 seconds."
I shuddered. Looking out the front windshield, I saw cars pop out of existence left and right, opening up a clear path to the four way intersection ahead. In a blink, the streetlights all turned green, and then they vanished completely. It was as if the entire world was being stripped down bare, and all that remained was the road, boxed in by the rows of buildings along either side. In the distance I could see a large tanker barreling toward us.
"Trent,"
"I know," he replied and clicked a different button on the console which opened a new toggle for the shifter labeled "TD". He pushed the stick forward, engaging the new mode, then pressed the accelerator all the way to the ground. "You're going to want to hold on."
"What are you doing!?" I yelled, grabbing onto my seatbelt.
"No time to explain. Car, release phase lock."
"Phase lock released."
I watched in horror as the color drained from the road and buildings and sky, transforming it all into a dim tunnel, with only the headlights of the oncoming semi-truck visible up ahead. I had the sudden thought that this was all a dream, just like the ones from my childhood. I looked over and no longer saw Trent, but my mother. And then I realized this wasn't a dream. This was hell. I was being forced to relive the worst moment of my life, over and over again. Just when I thought I had escaped, I was pulled right back into that car, helpless as we approached but never arrived at our impending fate. I closed my eyes right as the lights engulfed the windshield and braced for the usual pain in my chest, for the feeling of breaking.
But it didn't come.
"Shift" was the last word out of Trent's mouth, and then I was infused with the sensation of being at the pinnacle of a roller coaster. I was suspended there for what felt like hours, but somehow I knew that not even a second had passed. Everything inside the van: the dashboard, windows, ceiling, doors, even Trent himself began to radiate enigmatic particles. They were a mass of constant motion, like raindrops falling through the air but never landing. I looked down at my hand, but it was gone. Diffused into an unknowable number of untraceable particles. The world outside, once devoid of color, was now nothing but color. When I tried to focus on a particular spot in the infinite geometric folds of whatever realm we were traversing through, I could sometimes detect a trace of our world.
The old lady from the church. She appeared as if through a window, standing behind a table, holding out a plant. Only this image was so much brighter. And the plant she was holding was pure gold. Then I'd catch a glimpse of the razor blade. It was large, many hundreds of times larger than the van, and surrounded by darkness. These ghostly images appeared like holograms or reflections that caught the light at just the right angle, then dissipated.
I stayed there, looping between the archetypes of my life for a long, long time.
***
I knew we were returning when I felt the first sense of motion. Breath filled my lungs for the first time in what felt like a day. I blinked. And then we were back in town, driving down the same road with the blue sky above. People were jogging on the sidewalk past the little street shops. The streetlights were active. I checked the side mirror and saw the tanker had just passed by.
I looked over at Trent, who met my eyes. We shared a look of knowing, and unknowing. For some reason, that was enough, and we continued on in silence.
***
We agreed to stay the night at my house.
Trent had parked a couple blocks away in front of a couple vacant houses so as not to arouse suspicion from the neighbors. Then he lugged a large duffel bag with his equipment in and set it up in the living room. He scanned the scrapbook which contained the newspaper clippings from the accident several times and confirmed that was likely my 'origin point'. I simply nodded and then went back out onto the back porch. I sat there for hours, basking in the sun. Something had changed in the past day, but I couldn't pick out what it was. Too much had happened. I had too little time to process any of it.
When the sun set, I went inside and Trent told me about his plans for the next couple days. He said he needed to run a few errands in the morning, then meet up with a couple of his associates. After that, we could begin our drive to Southern Illinois. He said it was likely that the entity that was chasing me had first tied itself to me during my childhood accident. For whatever reason, we came into contact, and now it didn't want to leave. Trent would help me get rid of it. He didn't go into many details regarding how that was to happen, but I don't think in my tired state I would have been able to understand much anyway. He had a plan, and that was enough for me. At least for a while.
After our meeting, I made sure Trent had enough pillows and blankets like a proper host, then I retired to my room. I laid down on my twin bed and stared up at the cream-colored ceiling. Then I turned and saw the participation awards for my junior soccer league stashed on my dresser. I pictured myself on the field, running with the ball, out ahead of everyone except the goalie. I took a shot, but it was blocked. Then I ran back to defend. How can such a simple game be so much fun? Was the last thought I had before drifting off to sleep.
I woke up only once during the night. It was still dark out. The room was warm despite the small, flower petal fan churning away, shifting the hot, humid air from one pocket of the room to the next. I waited in apprehension, sensing that something had disturbed me. I saw the tomato plushie peeking out at me from the slightly ajar closet door where I had stashed it so many years ago. I felt like I was missing something. Something important.
And then I heard it.
There was a tapping at my window.

Part 1
First of all, I wanted to thank everyone for their kind words and support from the last post. A lot has happened since then, and a bunch of context is needed, so I hope you'll bear with me as I explain the details.
***
Back during the peak of the blinking crisis, I remember having a lot of difficulty sleeping. It was common for me to average only four or five hours a night, and the little sleep I did get was marred by terrible nightmares. One in particular recurred many times.
I was only eight, but somehow I was in the driver's seat of our family's old SUV. My arms were long enough to steady the wheel, but my legs didn't quite meet the pedals. It didn't matter though, since the car seemed content to continue on at a constant pace. I looked over and saw my mom in the passenger seat. Her face was a blurry likeness pieced together from the dozen or so picture's I'd seen of her over the years. I tried to bring her into focus, not only because I missed her dearly, but because she was speaking—pleading, even. She waved frantically at me, then brought her leg up and slammed it down on the floor mat several times. I didn't understand what had her so upset until she pointed out the front windshield, and I saw we were hurdling directly toward a giant tree that had fallen in the middle of the road.
Panicking, I stomped for the brake, but my seatbelt protested and pulled me back like an invigorated dog on a short leash. I sat up and tried clicking it off, but it wouldn't budge. My breaths became hollow cries, and I felt my heart beat against the bars of its bony prison. I grabbed the steering wheel and pulled it to the left, then right, attempting to swerve off the road, but it was as if whatever kind of glue was locking up the seatbelt was also fixing the steering wheel in place.
"Mom! what do I do!?" I yelled, tears streaming from my eyes. She was yelling back at me, but it was as if there was a divider between us, and neither of us could hear each other. I turned back just in time to see the giant Oak tree meet the front bumper, and then I jolted awake with a piercing pain in my chest that radiated up through my throat in the form of a giant scream. My little legs kicked under the covers and tears rained down on my pillow until my dad ran in and knelt at my bed.
"Lauren, are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?"
I grabbed my pillow and hugged it so my face was covered, then effused a "Mmm-hmm" in a long wheeze while rocking to either side.
"Oh, honey," he soothed and brushed my hair, then the tears from my face when I would allow it.
Time would pass in silence, and when I began to get the sense that my dad was ready to leave, I'd chirp out, "stay" in that way children do when they're embarrassed about wanting something.
"Always," my dad would reply; then he'd post up on the floor with my large tomato plushie as a pillow.
One night in particular, it was deep in the night, and I had woken to a tapping sound outside my window. I was so afraid that a monster had snuck into my room while I wasn't looking that I made him lay next to me and face outward. I'd peek my eyes open every minute or so to check and make sure my dad was there, staking out the room. Eventually, he rolled in close and said something that I still remember to this day.
"Hey, baby, guess what." he whispered.
"Mmm" I mumbled.
"I think you scared the monster away."
I tried to picture this through the fog of my fatigue. Something seemed off about the statement, like it wasn't logically possible, but before I could piece together the words to express that, my dad cut back in.
"It was scared because it realized you're a superhero. And you know what your greatest superpower is?"
I shook my head, making sure to rub my forehead against his shoulder so he could sense it in the dark room.
"You're greatest power is that you get to tell the monsters what to do. Because the monsters are only as strong as the stories you tell about them. And there's all kinds of stories. Happy ones. Sad ones. Scary ones. Tell me, this monster you think snuck in, would you say he's part of a scary story?"
"I don't know," I said, confused. "Maybe"
"Hmm," he hummed, contemplating. "Well, I want you to remember this. You have the ability to tell any kind of story you want. Maybe there are monsters, but that means there's heroes and angels, too, right?"
I was beginning to doze off to the comforting sound of my dad's deep voice, but I gave another affirmative "Mm-hmm".
"So, if you're ever scared, honey, just dream up a better story. A story that will bring you peace. Do you understand?"
But I was already out.
***
I woke up the next morning to the feeling that someone was in the hotel room with me. The drapes were drawn and the only sound was the AC unit blowing cold air, but when I looked toward the dark corner of the empty coat rack, my mind conjured the face of my dad, smiling at me, chanting that same, awful line—Oh, Lauren… you know who we are.
I was no longer a child, but it took a couple minutes of cold focus before I muscled the courage to ascend from the safety of my covers and flick on the lamp light. The small amber radius extended to where my dad's feet would have been if he was standing there. But there was no one. I let out a sigh and collapsed back onto the mattress, thinking back on all those years growing up. The same man who had helped me conquer my fear of the dark was now the monster hiding in its shadow.
I looked over my shoulder and saw the clock read 10:15. My meeting with Trent was in three hours. I moaned and stretched my arms back until they knocked against the headboard, then I collapsed back onto the mattress, meditating, gathering energy like a compressed spring. All at once, I jumped up and glided over to the drapes, opening them in a single, fluid motion. I grimaced at the sunlight, but the warmth felt good against my face. I stopped by the nightstand and gulped down the final few swigs of a bottle of Mello Yello that I had purchased from a vending machine the previous night, then undressed and hopped in the shower.
The warm water wasn't enough to wash away the previous night's memories. When I closed my eyes to lather my hair, I was back in my living room, standing opposite the demon that had taken on my dad's form. His smile. His laugh. It was like someone in my head was flipping a switch between the man I loved growing up and a terrible monster. But the fear was more powerful. I heard something drop onto the tile floor on the other side of the curtain. The noise made me gasp, and I opened my eyes while shampoo was still streaming down my face. I swiped the shampoo out of my now burning eyes and squinted at the curtain, trying to see through it, but I couldn't make anything out. "I-is anyone," I started, trembling, afraid to finish the sentence. I reached out and pinched the end of the curtain. My heart was in overdrive. I swallowed, then pulled it toward me and peeked out. I scanned the room, but I couldn't see anything out of place.
It wasn't until after I finished showering and wound myself up in one of the hotel's too-small towels that I saw what had made the noise. I bent down and picked up the stub of a razor blade that had fallen onto the tile right next to the puffy, gray shower rug. It wasn't mine, and I was pretty sure hotels didn't keep unguarded razor blades just laying around. When I held it up, it occurred to me that if it had simply fallen a few inches to the left, it would have been buried in the rug, and perhaps I would have stepped on it. I stared at myself in its steely reflection. Cold. Lonely. Small. What if I—was all I was able to think before the blade blinked out of my hand.
I threw on some clothes, packed up the few belongings I had into my purse, then checked out of my room. I didn't feel safe going back home after what happened, but I also didn't want to go anywhere else. I got in my car and drove aimlessly up and down the town's streets, focusing only on the car ahead of me. Anytime I started to travel down an avenue of thought, I'd make a turn, or speed up, or hit the brakes: anything to keep my mind distracted. It was sweltering outside, but I'd turn the heat on for minutes at a time until I felt drenched, then toggle max AC until I was cool, then back to heat. I repeated the basic driving tenet "10 and 2", "10 and 2", "10 and 2" like a mantra—a chant to focus my attention on a single point, and then I pictured that point disappearing. I began to think that maybe I wanted to disappear.
I fully intended to keep going that way until 1:00, but after about thirty minutes, my meandering route had led me to St. Mark's Catholic Church, where a large group of people were gathered around a long line of tables in front of the building. I slowed down. At the front of the venue was a large, white cardboard sign which read, "Plant a Seed, Share the Joy". I wasn't sure what that meant, but my boredom had come to a head, and I rationalized that if there's any place on God's green earth that would be safe, it was this one. I parked along the closest side-street, then walked over to the church.
Rows of white tables were covered with cardboard boxes filled with small plants that were wrapped up in individual paper pots. I watched from a distance as people behind the tables carefully removed the plants, one by one, and offered them to passersby. I continued down the line, a sheep in the herd, and allowed myself to sink into childhood memories. I had somehow made it out the other end near the Narthex when I heard a woman's voice call to me.
"Hey, deary, have you gotten one yet?"
I turned and saw a small, gray-haired lady with rose-colored glasses. "Oh, no," I started, attempting to decline, then paused. The old lady grabbed one of the plants and held it out for me.
"Here," she said. "Come on, I won't bite."
As far as you know, I thought, and stumbled forward with a sigh. "Thanks," I said and took the plant. "What is this all for, anyway?"
"It's a giveaway," the old woman responded. "Staff have been growing these plants—tomatoes and garlic, mainly—so they could offer them to members of the Parish. The idea is to have the members grow the produce, then donate it to St. Mark's Food Pantry to give to those in need."
"Oh, that's actually pretty cool." I replied and inspected my plant which was at present nothing more than a small green stem. "So which kind is this one?"
"That one is—" the old lady stopped and inspected the other plants near where she had grabbed mine—"tomato."
"Tomato," I repeated. "Well, thanks again."
"Of course, dear." the old lady beamed. "We're all responsible for each other."
I nodded, then continued back through the crowd toward my car when, through the large vestibule windows, I saw a Priest speaking to a young couple. It had been a little over a decade since I had attended a service (I stopped going during High School when I started studying other religions), and I didn't recognize this Priest. He was short (just over five feet tall), bald, and African American. He wore the customary black robe and white collar, and there was something in his smile and the way seemed to be affirming the couple that made me yearn to speak with him. I considered for a moment, a bit embarrassed to be stepping back into church after all this time, but the thought of being able to burn ten minutes talking with someone who might have some insight into my situation was too tempting to pass up.
I waited near a portrait of Mary Magdalene, my tomato plant in hand, staring off at the pristine series of stained glass images portraying the death and resurrection of Jesus. About a minute in, the Priest met my eyes; he smiled, his way of telling me he knew I was waiting, then finished up with the couple and made his way over. He had a bit of an accent when he spoke—it was Ugandan, from best I could tell—and a proclivity for laughing at the end of his sentences.
"Hello, Miss, I don't believe I've had the privilege," he said and held out his hand. He leaned in as he spoke, and his smile tugged on the corners of his eyes which were already marked with use.
I shook his hand and returned what I'm sure was a weak smile. "No, I don't think so. My name's Lauren. I used to come here when I was little. It's—been a while."
"Well, I see you picked a good day to visit. If you're into gardening, that is." He remarked with a laugh and gestured toward the plant. "It's nice to meet you, Lauren. My name's Martin—Father Martin, if you prefer."
"Father Martin," I repeated, "I have a friend named Martin. It's a good name."
He laughed and said, "Thank you, I'll pass that one along to my mother. She loves the praise."
I laughed back. He carried himself in such a carefree way that I was put immediately at ease. Almost to the point where I forgot what I wanted to talk to him about. "Um," I started, attempting to word my question in a way that didn't sound like I needed psychiatric help. "I have a couple of religious questions for you, if you have time."
"That's what I'm for. Ask away."
"They're about… miracles. Like the ones in the Bible. I was wondering, do you think that miracles still happen today?"
"Miracles, huh," he started. "You mean like water into wine?"
"Kind of, yeah,"
"Hmm…" he contemplated. "Well, I haven't seen them, myself. You know, I may be a Priest, but I also have a degree in Physics. I think God made the world according to laws, right? But I do think God has the power to intervene. Yes. I just have never seen it… like … you know, the biblical type of miracles. To me, there are miracles happening all around us—miracles we can't see."
"Exactly," I responded, thinking about how no one else could see the blinks, "those kinds of miracles. What are those miracles we can't see?"
One of Father Martin's eyebrows raised and he rubbed his chin. "Well, I think the greatest miracle is the miracle of God's love which was perfected in Christ and offered to each of us. It's his power to heal even the most troubled mind. By coming into alignment with God's will for us, we can see the true purpose of this existence."
No, he's not getting it, I thought. I scrambled to my other entry-point. "What about the story of Job? God made a bet with the Devil that Job would stay faithful to him no matter what the Devil did to him. Do you think that kind of situation is possible?"
Father Martin's expression drooped into a concerned frown. "There's quite the difference between miracles and the story of Job. I suppose I see what you're getting at, though. Job's suffering is in some ways the antithesis to positive miracles. In this life, we are tested, sometimes to the point of losing everything, but even that person who has more reason to hate God than anyone else can once again find peace and eternal happiness through faith. In fact, it's often the person who is lowest in the pit of suffering that needs the Light of Christ more than anyone else."
I thought back on the first night that I prayed. It was in my moment of greatest helplessness that I reached out to God, and I thought I had found my answer in Him. But now, after what happened last night, after all these years of chaos—not merely losing things that were important to me, but my very sanity—I needed more than just blind faith. I couldn't just sit idly by and hope things would get better. I smiled at the Priest and said, "Thank you, Father, this has been very insightful."
"Of course, sister. I'm sorry if I couldn't have been of more help."
"No, I think I understand now. I've been… wrestling with something, and I think God wants me to confront it. I think I've been running away and hiding from it for so long that I'd convinced myself it disappeared."
Father Martin nodded in understanding. "Well, in that case, will you let me leave you with a prayer?"
I was a bit taken off guard by the request, but I accepted. "Sure, Father."
I watched as he made the sign of the cross, then he lifted his hands and closed his eyes. "Dear God, I am so happy to have had the privilege of meeting with Lauren today, especially on a day such as this where we are offering gifts for those who need them. You have heard her desire to confront the things that are troubling her. I ask that you bless her with strength and peace and a clear conscience, that she may overcome these challenges. God, bless us with your spirit, that we may see your hand in our lives. Amen."
"Amen," I said.
As I was leaving, Father Martin called out to me and said, "Oh, just so you know, this Friday at 7 we are having a barbecue at the Parish Center. I would love to see you there, if you're able and wanting."
Turning back, I smiled and said, "Oh, ok, thanks Father. I'll think about it."
The priest nodded, and with a smile, he sent me off.
***
I walked into the Deli at 1:00 on the dot. The customers who had arrived for the lunch rush were already cleaning up their trash and heading out. I dodged past a few of them on my way down the long, narrow path leading to the front counter. While I waited behind a couple of elderly folk who were picking which soup they wanted to pair with their Ultimate Grilled Cheese, I looked around for Trent. He hadn't sent me a picture or any way of contacting him throughout the day, so I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but I figured I'd see some man half-hidden behind a newspaper, scouting me out. Maybe I watch too many movies, I thought.
"Ahem, ma'am. You're up." croaked the teenager behind the register.
"Oh, right, sorry" I replied and stepped up to the counter. "Uhh," I muttered, scanning the menu for something that looked edible. "Could I just get…" I made sure to mouth every syllable as they were words of their own.
"We have a deal—the try two combo. Sandwich and a soup for $9.99." the cashier repeated for what was probably the fiftieth time that day.
"Yes, that sounds good. I'll do the Italian sandwich and potato soup. And a drink, please."
After I paid for the food, I wandered around the tables, hoping to find someone who looked like a Trent. I was picturing a short guy, runner's build, with long brown hair, tucked somewhere neatly away in the corner. So I was not prepared when the Hulk's stunt double growled my name from a table smack dab in the middle of the restaurant. He had a pale, square face that was spotted with freckles and a sinking property that comes with the lethal combination of stress and age. His hair was relatively short. Probably it was brown or auburn, but since it was slicked back, it looked almost black. And he wore what looked like janitor coveralls. There was even a cloth tag pinned to his chest which read, "Trent".
"Lauren?" He repeated.
"Yes, that's me." I said and took a seat across from him. I saw a brown tray on the table in front of him, and on the tray was a large, white soup bowl. It was empty and beginning to crust along the edges. He must have been here for some time already. "I didn't know where you'd be, so I was worried we might miss each other. I'm glad you found me though." I said while looking over Trent more thoroughly. His large hands were stretched out in front of him on the table. He wasn't wearing a ring, so he probably wasn't married. And his face, it was stern. He seemed like a no-bullshit kind of guy. Then I saw his eyes. They were sapphire blue—probably the most stunning I'd ever seen.
"We only spoke on the internet, so I hope you don't mind, but I usually run a preliminary test on anyone I meet who claims to have abilities such as yours." Trent said while reaching into his pocket and removing a device that had the size and shape of an electric razor. "All you have to do is look into it. It takes maybe five seconds. Ten at most."
"Oh, um, sure," I said reluctantly. "Do I just—" I asked while reaching for the device.
Trent clicked a button and released the cylindrical head which opened, revealing a glass circle about the size of an iris. "I'll hold it, just look into the center. A red cross should appear, then it'll take the picture."
"Okay…" I replied and did as he instructed, leaning my head forward to look into the device. Sure enough, a red cross appeared. "Is it…" was all I got out before the light turned blue and I saw a gray fog disperse and billow throughout the inside of the tube, extending for what I perceived to be miles. My jaw went slack and I couldn't breathe for maybe five seconds. Then Trent reshuttered the device and turned it over.
"Damn, 72." He said with a hint of shock. "That's the highest I've scanned to date." He looked back at me, more relaxed now, and muttered to himself. "How have you been able to function for this long? At this level, you should basically be half in, half out."
I rubbed my forehead, feeling a mixture of pain and frustration and fatigue and impatience which all poured out at once. "Listen, Trent," I said as sternly as I could, "I came here because you said you knew what was wrong with me and that you could help me. I get you have to make sure I am who I said I am, but now it's your turn to pay up. How do I know you know anything about my condition? You said my mom might still be alive. What does that even mean? I saw her die right in front of me. I want answers."
I waited for Trent to respond, but he only lifted his head. I turned around and saw a girl holding a tray of food.
"Um, hi, sorry to interrupt. I have an order 36 for Lauren."
"Oh, yes, thank you." I said. The worker placed the tray down on the table in front of me, and when I saw the food, I suddenly realized how hungry I was. Trent must have also realized this, because he folded his arms and said, "go ahead and eat. I'll explain while you do."
I wanted to protest, but my salivating mouth made other plans. "Fine," I said. I grabbed the metal spoon off the tray and started on the soup, bracing against the steaming heat of the potato chunks.
As I ate, Trent moved all of the items on his tray off to the side, then he flipped the tray over so it was raised slightly off the table. He took his cup and placed it face down in the center, then he rolled up a few of his used, blue mayonnaise packets and charted a track across the tray.
"What are you doing?" I croaked out between bites.
Trent ignored me and continued by ripping up a napkin into strips and placing them alongside the mayonnaise packets. Finally, he snapped ten toothpicks in half and stuck them in the tomb of a dozen overlayed napkins. "It's your diorama," he said at last.
"It's my what?"
"From the story you sent me. Your diorama. When I read about it, it gave me a good idea of how to explain the 'blinking'."
I pointed at the cup in the center. "Is that supposed to be a pyramid? Because I'm pretty sure you're in the wrong geometric neighborhood with that one."
"It's an analogy," he said.
"Of an analogy," I quipped back.
"Look," he picked out one of the toothpicks and held it out in front of me. "This could be a person, an animal, a crowbar—whatever you want. The point is, this diorama is a stand in for our universe. This is everything that exists, that we can see. Okay?"
"Okay,"
"Now, me," Trent placed a hand over his heart. "I'm not in the diorama. I don't exist in the universe."
"In the universe where a cup is a pyramid, or the actual universe?" I said, unable to control myself.
Trent grimaced.
"Sorry, keep going. I get it."
"Things pop into," Trent threw the toothpick back onto the tray, "or out of," he picked the toothpick back up, "our universe at will, based on forces," he patted his chest again, "that exist in other realms" he gestured to the room, "that are connected to our universe," he tapped two fingers against the tray. "These things could be objects, like, say, a toothpick, or entities, like the one you encountered yesterday. The blinking experience that you described aligns with the typical experience of a moderate Antenna. That's what I call people like us—Antennas; because we can pick up on signals others can't."
"We—you mean you see the blinking, too?"
"Yes, but not to the same extent as you. If all the blinks are gathered in a giant picture that you can see, I'm traversing the image through binoculars, maybe even a microscope, depending on where we are."
I thought about this. I guess it was possible there were other people like me out there, but since I had never met anyone, I didn't really consider the idea until now. And then for him to say my ability was somehow much stronger than his… "But," I started, "I haven't even seen that many blinks since I was a child. It's just more focused and malicious now."
"Yeah," Trent scratched his head, "that's the thing that got me really interested in you. Somehow you seem to be able to control it without gear, just by praying. And, look, that's all well and good, but I don't want to give you the false impression that I'm some kind of religious leader. I like to look for logical, scientific explanations for things. So that's the frame I'm coming at this from."
I took a sip from my drink. "That's fine," I said, "the truth is that's why I reached out to you in the first place. I wanted an explanation I could understand. An explanation that was directly related to what I'm going through."
"Then we should get along just fine."
I was scooping out the last potato that was stubbornly gliding along the bottom of the bowl when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the old man from the line shooting up from his bench and standing in army-erect form. I felt a tingling sensation tickle the back of my neck. I didn't want to turn toward him. I knew what I'd see if I did. "Trent," I whispered, trying to tip him off.
"Huh?" he grunted. Then when he saw my expression, he snuck his right hand under the table and said, "Do you see it? Is it here?"
I cocked my head to the left, signaling toward the old man that was now facing us, but Trent didn't seem to notice him: his eyes just kept scanning the entire front of the restaurant. Then I saw the old man take a step in our direction.
"Lauuurennnn, oh Lauuuurennnn, I've been looking for you, Laurenn." The old man said in a low, gravelly voice that gave the impression he was gurgling liquid tar. I turned and saw his face. It was cold and expressionless, and a butter knife was poking out of his left fist. When I met his eyes, he smiled that horrible smile."You're a slippery bitch, you know that?" He spat. "Why can't you just stay put? Don't you get tired of running from your old friend? Or have you forgotten about me?"
"Trent," I mumbled out. "Right there."
"And this guy. You think he can help you? He's only here to help himself. If that's not clear, you really are a lost little lamb."
"Quick, give me your hand," Trent instructed.
I was silent, my eyes still pinned to the old man.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk," the demon possessed senior wagged his finger at me, taking a step, then another step, shortening the distance as much as he could while I was entranced. Then, suddenly, he sprinted forward at a speed that shouldn't have been possible for a man his age.
"Trent!" I screamed.
"Lauren, give me your hand!"
I spun around and grabbed Tren'ts outstretched arm just as the old man lifted the butter knife over his head like a pickaxe. Then I saw Trent pull out what looked like a toy gun from under the table and point it at the demon.
"Got you," Trent remarked. I braced for a gunshot, but there was no noise. After a couple seconds, I looked back and saw the old man sitting in the booth opposite his wife, his hand tremoring as he reached for his large drink.
"What did you?" I asked, but Trent was already pulling me out of my seat. "Come on, we have to go," he said, "the effect is temporary, he'll be—"
Before he could get out the last word, I saw the cup-pyramid on Trent's tray blink out of existence. The sound of a plate shattering rang out from a table up ahead. The lone woman standing there slowly turned around, smiling, with a fork in one hand and a piece of the broken plate in the other. Trent shot her with the toy gun as we ran past and then barreled through the front door.
"Where—are we going?" I asked between gasps.
"My van. It's loaded with kit."
"And then where?"
"Your house" replied Trent who stashed his gun back in his pocket and took out a key fob.
"My house? But that's where he—it appeared."
"Yeah, and that's where you banished it."
Trent waved me into the passenger seat of his RAM 3500 Promaster. I noticed right away the dash which looked more like it belonged in a new limited-edition EV than a cargo van. The ignition kicked on automatically, and I heard the beep of a sonar ping precede an English woman's voice calling out like some auxed-in GPS saying, "scanning for anomalies". Trent shifted the van into gear, and I heard the wheels sputter as we accelerated backward and whipped out of the small parking lot.
"What's your address?" Trent asked. I gave it to him, and then speaking to his dash, he said, "Car, take us to ****."
"Redirecting to ****," replied the British woman. "Currently detecting 31 novel emergences. Updating pings every 300 milliseconds. Chance of contact: 0.23%"
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"The van has sensor equipment which can detect blinks. It's much more accurate than either of us."
"And it sees 31?"
"Yes, that's not as many as it sounds." Trent said and tore past a car that blinked out of existence right as we turned onto the main street.
We drove on for another couple minutes, the Englishwoman updating the number of novel emergences every ten seconds or so. Her constant babbling eventually became a comforting background noise, and I was able to think again.
"In the message you sent me, you said my mom may still be alive." I looked at Trent to see if he would react to me bringing her up, but he remained stolid. "What did you mean by that?"
Trent thumbed his steering wheel. "I shouldn't have sent that." He said at last.
"Shouldn't have… What do you mean? You can't just say that now."
Trent took one hand off the wheel and turned toward me. "Look, we're going back to your house because we need to determine your origin point. All Antennas have them. It's a place of high energy where many realms intersect, kind of like a station, and it's the place where you first acquired your abilities. Based on everything you wrote, I'm guessing that place is where the forest where the accident happened when you were a young child. But I need to confirm it. Once I confirm that that's the place…" Trent hesitated.
"Then… what? You want us to go back there? To the place where my mom died, or at least where I think she died until you told me she might be alive but are now taking it back? That place?"
"It's the only way to—"
"Now detecting novel agent," the Englishwoman interrupted. We both perked up as she gave another update. "Net anomalies: 437. Novel Agents: 1. Chance of contact: 78%."
"Shit," Trent muttered. "Car, course correct."
"Attempting course correct to avoid collision. Attempts made: 10, 50, 75, 79… No alternate route detected. Chance of contact: 96%."
"Time until contact?"
"Time until contact: 13 seconds."
I shuddered. Looking out the front windshield, I saw cars pop out of existence left and right, opening up a clear path to the four way intersection ahead. In a blink, the streetlights all turned green, and then they vanished completely. It was as if the entire world was being stripped down bare, and all that remained was the road, boxed in by the rows of buildings along either side. In the distance I could see a large tanker barreling toward us.
"Trent,"
"I know," he replied and clicked a different button on the console which opened a new toggle for the shifter labeled "TD". He pushed the stick forward, engaging the new mode, then pressed the accelerator all the way to the ground. "You're going to want to hold on."
"What are you doing!?" I yelled, grabbing onto my seatbelt.
"No time to explain. Car, release phase lock."
"Phase lock released."
I watched in horror as the color drained from the road and buildings and sky, transforming it all into a dim tunnel, with only the headlights of the oncoming semi-truck visible up ahead. I had the sudden thought that this was all a dream, just like the ones from my childhood. I looked over and no longer saw Trent, but my mother. And then I realized this wasn't a dream. This was hell. I was being forced to relive the worst moment of my life, over and over again. Just when I thought I had escaped, I was pulled right back into that car, helpless as we approached but never arrived at our impending fate. I closed my eyes right as the lights engulfed the windshield and braced for the usual pain in my chest, for the feeling of breaking.
But it didn't come.
"Shift" was the last word out of Trent's mouth, and then I was infused with the sensation of being at the pinnacle of a roller coaster. I was suspended there for what felt like hours, but somehow I knew that not even a second had passed. Everything inside the van: the dashboard, windows, ceiling, doors, even Trent himself began to radiate enigmatic particles. They were a mass of constant motion, like raindrops falling through the air but never landing. I looked down at my hand, but it was gone. Diffused into an unknowable number of untraceable particles. The world outside, once devoid of color, was now nothing but color. When I tried to focus on a particular spot in the infinite geometric folds of whatever realm we were traversing through, I could sometimes detect a trace of our world.
The old lady from the church. She appeared as if through a window, standing behind a table, holding out a plant. Only this image was so much brighter. And the plant she was holding was pure gold. Then I'd catch a glimpse of the razor blade. It was large, many hundreds of times larger than the van, and surrounded by darkness. These ghostly images appeared like holograms or reflections that caught the light at just the right angle, then dissipated.
I stayed there, looping between the archetypes of my life for a long, long time.
***
I knew we were returning when I felt the first sense of motion. Breath filled my lungs for the first time in what felt like a day. I blinked. And then we were back in town, driving down the same road with the blue sky above. People were jogging on the sidewalk past the little street shops. The streetlights were active. I checked the side mirror and saw the tanker had just passed by.
I looked over at Trent, who met my eyes. We shared a look of knowing, and unknowing. For some reason, that was enough, and we continued on in silence.
***
We agreed to stay the night at my house.
Trent had parked a couple blocks away in front of a couple vacant houses so as not to arouse suspicion from the neighbors. Then he lugged a large duffel bag with his equipment in and set it up in the living room. He scanned the scrapbook which contained the newspaper clippings from the accident several times and confirmed that was likely my 'origin point'. I simply nodded and then went back out onto the back porch. I sat there for hours, basking in the sun. Something had changed in the past day, but I couldn't pick out what it was. Too much had happened. I had too little time to process any of it.
When the sun set, I went inside and Trent told me about his plans for the next couple days. He said he needed to run a few errands in the morning, then meet up with a couple of his associates. After that, we could begin our drive to Southern Illinois. He said it was likely that the entity that was chasing me had first tied itself to me during my childhood accident. For whatever reason, we came into contact, and now it didn't want to leave. Trent would help me get rid of it. He didn't go into many details regarding how that was to happen, but I don't think in my tired state I would have been able to understand much anyway. He had a plan, and that was enough for me. At least for a while.
After our meeting, I made sure Trent had enough pillows and blankets like a proper host, then I retired to my room. I laid down on my twin bed and stared up at the cream-colored ceiling. Then I turned and saw the participation awards for my junior soccer league stashed on my dresser. I pictured myself on the field, running with the ball, out ahead of everyone except the goalie. I took a shot, but it was blocked. Then I ran back to defend. How can such a simple game be so much fun? Was the last thought I had before drifting off to sleep.
I woke up only once during the night. It was still dark out. The room was warm despite the small, flower petal fan churning away, shifting the hot, humid air from one pocket of the room to the next. I waited in apprehension, sensing that something had disturbed me. I saw the tomato plushie peeking out at me from the slightly ajar closet door where I had stashed it so many years ago. I felt like I was missing something. Something important.
And then I heard it.
There was a tapping at my window.

FTM here hoping that the experts can give me tips to help me stop my milk production. My LO is 10 weeks old and had exclusively breast milk until about 8 weeks. I was essentially exclusively pumping (only nursing like once a day—he was a NICU preemie so did much better with a bottle). Baby was incredibly colicky, gassy, had reflux, and basically cried all waking hours. After lots of back and forth with the pediatrician, we figured out that he has CMPA. I tried to cut dairy from my diet with no changes, so we suspect he has some other sensitivities, too. We switched him to a hypoallergenic formula (Nutramigen) at about 8 weeks, and the difference is truly night and day. He’s a completely different baby—happy, cooing, smiley, sleeps well, etc. I only wish we had done it sooner.
So, with that, I’m trying to wean from pumping. I’ve been weaning for about two weeks but am still producing a lot. I had worked really hard to get my supply up, so I’m sure my body is confused. Currently, I’m pumping every 6-7 hours to relieve discomfort for about 8-10 minutes. I was previously pumping every 3 hours for 15-18 minutes. Even cutting pumps in half, I’m still producing a lot when I pump and leaking like crazy in between. I sometimes have to hand express to relieve discomfort in between pumps. I’ve also been using ice and cold compresses. I ordered the “No More Milk” tea from Amazon to give that a try. Otherwise, I’m looking for more tips to try to stop my production and not have it take a ton of time…if that’s possible! Note that I can’t take Sudafed because I have high blood pressure.
Along the same lines, I’m also looking for ideas/thoughts about how to donate my frozen milk from the past 10 weeks and what I’m continuing to freeze as I wean. It all contains dairy, so LO can’t have it (and the pediatrician confirmed that we won’t be reintroducing dairy within the timeframe that the frozen milk will still be good). I’ve contacted a couple of milk banks (I’m in Ohio in the U.S.), and they don’t accept milk that contains blood pressure medication. I’ve been on blood pressure pills for my entire postpartum/pumping timeline because I had severe preeclampsia. Any other ideas about how I can make sure that the milk goes to a baby who can benefit from it? Being that I had a preemie (and probably a dash of postpartum anxiety…), my cleaning, sterilizing, labeling, etc. was really stringent.
Thank you in advance!
ETA: I also had a blood transfusion after my c-section (TLDR: things went completely off the rails, and I had a very traumatic birth). I understand that disqualifies me from donating, too. But I'm just wondering if there's some use for these hundreds of ounces of frozen milk. It feels so sad to throw them out.

Just need to vent a bit.
We did the dinner with Strahd yesterday. I had decided to make it a real life dinner as well, which in hindsight was probably biting off more than I could chew (pun not intended, ha). I had made the entree and dessert in advance, but the main needed to be put on the stove halfway through the game, which kind of took us out of the flow. Didn't help that my husband had a nasty cold so his executive function was shot (ADHD) and I needed to direct him too - although he did help exactly as I asked him to.
And then the session itself I found kind of... underwhelming? It doesn't help that the book offers NO guidance whatsoever. I read a ton of guides on this subreddit and watched videos on Youtube, but there was still a lingering "ok so they're in Castle Ravenloft... now what?" It doesn't help that there are about twelve billion NPCs running around so I'm constantly talking to myself. I keep forgetting that Ireena is there too and obviously people are going to react to her and she is reacting to things as well, and then I basically have to creep on myself because obviously Strahd isn't going to be cool about Ireena being in his castle at all. :p Then there's Rahadin, the Brides, Escher, Gertruda... I could at least give Escher and Gertruda some screen time, but the Brides were in the dining room and the PCs were like "let's sit as far away from them as possible and just not interact with them because they are kinda scary", and I was too busy talking about what Strahd was doing that the Brides never got much of a personality beyond the smiling/bitchy/spacey one. I also wanted to do a bit of a Strahd monologue (based on this awesome post) but I plain forgot about it since I was so busy holding all the spinning plates in the air.
Plus the castle itself. TOO MANY ROOMS. The characters were like "no we're not going to sneak around, let's be on our best behavior", but at least a few of them accepted the offer of a guided tour by Escher, so I took them along a few rooms. Part of it is on me not reading the chapter ahead in detail and making note of what is where, admittedly. One of them wanted to go to a library, so I had Anastrasya take him there (he's a necromancer who is super into magic so I felt that the pairing made sense) but I'm not even 100% sure there IS such a library so I just made shit up. The others visited the chapel where they saw the Icon of Ravenloft, and I made up some stuff about them seeing portraits of Strahd's parents and Sergei (and very pointedly NOT Tatyana; according to Escher Sergei just died tragically somehow, very sad for His Lordship). I did hint that there was stuff under the castle but they were not supposed to go there. Also Ireena had regained her memories at the Krezk pool and I mentioned that she seemed to know her way around the castle a bit better than Ireena is supposed to, so at least there's that.
It wasn't a TOTAL bust. I had each of them receive a message in their head asking them to join him (based on this post), which was pretty great, especially as I hadn't given all of them the same red/white join/refuse offer so they didn't know who was signalling what. All but one of them refused. :p I also had Strahd basically tell them to go to the Amber Temple next; they're level 8 now so that is rather nicely on track. And they liked the food I had made! I had also printed out some Wizards of Wine labels and pasted them on some wine bottles that held red and white grape juice which was quite a big hit, so that was fun.
But overall, ugh. I hope the Amber Temple is going to be fun - the players are looking forward to some nice dungeon crawling, at the very least, and first they need to get there to begin with! But as a DM, this later stage of CoS is just... A Lot.

At my worst I would take 3-5 double strength laxatives in a day, well over the recommended daily dose and this went on for about a year.
When I quit cold turkey, it was hard to restore my digestive health, but with dietary and behavioral changes, after about a week of initial bloating and constipation, I now can pass bowel movements daily and with no issue.
Disclaimer: I'm in no way endorsing this as a save all solution to lax abuse, however the methods I outline may be a starting point for harm reduction and recovery
In a day, my diet consists of:

• One morning intake of two probiotic gummies, two magnesium gummies and two fibre gummies
• One sugar free Kombucha throughout the day
• A capsule of digestive enzymes before each meal
• One low fat Greek yoghurt after dinner
• One evening intake of two probiotic gummies, two magnesium gummies and two fibre gummies after dinner

And wherever I can, I incorporate fermented foods high in probiotics with my meals, such as sauerkraut and kimchi, along with eating foods high in fibre to go with the amount of probiotics I'm consuming.
As for behavioural changes, I made sure to chew thoroughly and slowly to reduce any extra gas bloating.
The first two weeks are uncomfortable and tough and it's tempting to pop a lax to make it all go away, but instead, go for Simethicone pills to help with the bloating. It won't mess up your digestive system and as a bonus, it makes your breath smell minty!
I hope that in writing this, I can help other people in a similar situation. You can do it! I believe in you.

We are 10 family members who booked this trip through a tour agency. My dadi(grandmother) is 76 years old with operation in both legs and a 3 year cancer patient. Our tour started at 11th May, 2024. We did the char dham in proper sequence (Yamnoutri -Gangotri- Kedarnath -Badrinath). We had a proper itinerary and online bookings done by the agency.
First we had a hotel booking in Barkot. The hotel was okay. they are extremely possessive about their towels with a rule- 1 towel per room??? I'm with my dadi and aunty in one room. They probably have a laundry problem or something but every single hotel has this nonsense rule. Anyways, next day 5am we left for Yamnoutri. Got stuck in a 5km long jam(Yamnoutri is 35km away) Me and my dad decided to walk it out. We covered 20km by 3pm however it started raining and couldn't continue ahead. We stayed in a tapri for 4 hours until the rain cleared. Our family was still stuck in traffic and hadn't reached even close to us. Now it's 8pm. We were supposed to be done with Yamnoutri and go back to our Barkot hotel. We had to cancel our Barkot bookings(and the hotel manager put all the bags of our 10 people in 1 room messing up everyones luggage). We booked another hotel at Sayanchatti were our family members reached at 11pm. Police management was utterly trash. I think even they were surprised with the amount of overcrowding. Next day we finally reached Yamnoutri. About the trek- the pathway/trail is full of shit. And I mean literally full of horse-poop. There are 700-1000 horses. Even after getting a horse, we had to wait 40mins for parchi and additional 1 hour(while on our horse) because of horse-jam. Yes there is a traffic jam of horses ON THE TREK. We wanted to walk but seeing the people who did walk, I was glad we didn't. The path is almost 3 meter wide with pithu, doly/palki, horses and people walking simultaneously. People who walked got continuously hit by horses and had to dirty their shoes in horse poop. We reached the temple finally, did Pooja, etc and managed to return Barkot where we had to re-book for another night. Our itinerary was already messed up at this point and money was wasted thrice (previous booking unattended in Barkot, the new booking in Sayanchatti and rebooking in Barkot). There is more like the incredibly risky horse route, etc but that's inevitable. I'm gonna continue with Gangotri.
We reached Maneri after struggling in jams for 7+ hours. We also did Uttarkashi before that. Ok so here the police had stopped us at checkpost and said cars are going in batches and if they let us go the jam ahead would only get worse. Now our hotel was 5 minutes(3km) by car from the checkpost. I went walking 3km and reached the hotel and there was absolutely no traffic like we told the police. We even showed them on Google maps. Traffic jams are understandable, but not letting us go after talking to the hotel owner, seeing proof that we won't contribute to traffic, that was a bit triggering. From police side it was just plain dumb. The commisioner there would keep talking his egoistical nonsense, not listening to anyone. Finally the rest of my family reached the hotel. Same issue with towels, rubbish beds, never ending insects and super unclean bathrooms with no pressure in water(flush, jets, bath, basin). Anyways, next day 12am we left for Gangotri with zero sleep because we are already behind our bookings and trying to avoid wasting more money. Got stuck in jam till 6am. [Also another note here, we had 2 private cars and one of the drivers was sleeping drunk and almost hit me and my mom. He hit a tempo traveller and we told him go back to sleep.] Finally reached Gangotri at 5:30pm, did our Pooja and then got in line for Darshan. My dadi and I got into the senior citizen line because she is 76 years old and can barely stand/walk in lines. Tilll now in the trip I don't completely blame the police for what was going on. But here in Gangotri, if anyone is going I am warning you, the police is rubbish. They are rude, tired with the crowd and very harsh and worst of all lazy. When u reach the main statue to go darshan, it's continuous pushing and almost a stampede, you cannot carry a baby or a old person there, they are garanteed to get hurt and the police won't care AT ALL. If you are lucky u might get to see the main statue of Ganga Mata for more than 4 seconds. After that we got back to our hotel in Maneri.
Next day we left for our hotel booking (adjusted by our agency) in Phata-Mankheda. Don't forget to go to Guptkashi before entering Phata. Here too same issues like 1 towel per room, charging points at the most unreachable locations in the room, etc. But this was still better than Maneri. Next morning 3am we left for Sonprayag. There is a line for your registration approval which goes on till Sitapur (2km from Sonprayag). People will continuously try to break and enter the line and there is almost a stampede and lot of heated crowd. After registration, you can go join 1km line for government taxi(50rs per head) from Sonprayag to Gaurikund. Anyways, after reaching Gaurikund there is a 1km inclined gali then the horses start.Remember this part^. So here we again had to take a horse even tho we wanted to trek because at this point we were on 3-4hrs sleep everyday and our mental was very weak. We paid 6000rs per horse because it wasn't morning and the horse owner GARANTEED us all of my family members will be together, there will be one person per horse and that he already has the parchi. 5 of us had taken the horses and others went walking, palki and pithu. This path was again same as Yamnoutri or even worse. More horse-poop than ever, the sweepers there won't care and sweep the trash on you if u r in their way and continue doing so. People working there are literally illustrate and 'gouthi'. The horse owner didn't fulfil his promise either. There was 1 man handling 3 horses. The horses were going anywhere, hitting our legs on railings, other yatris,other horses etc. They told us to get down and walk 50m every time they saw police which is when we understood they didn't make a parchi. When we reached the top they demanded for the full money which they very very very obviously did not deserve for all their lies. When we said take 28k because anyways 2 of their men didn't come. They said give 30k else don't give anything at all. This childish, greedy attitude of theirs was again very triggering. We are not beggars and they are not doing us any favours so we still paid them the full amount. We are on a spiritual journey but since everything is about money from tourism, our spirit kept getting crushed. We had to spend the night at Kedarnath and our agency had booked us a dormitory. I warn anyone booking a dormitory, just don't. 30 unclean, continuously used beds, in one non- ventilation suffocating room with 1 Indian style toilet whose latch doesn't work shared with strangers. And the worst part is it is 1000rs per bed. I wouldn't pay 20rs for this rubbish service. At this point my spirit completely broke and I fell sick. I hadn't eaten anything and didn't want to. Next day my dad and I went down through horse at government rate (2300/). Others came in pithu and trek. Now came the worst part. The overcrord at the narrow 500m gali which i told u to remember above. Oh my God. After 22km Trek you are treated with this 0 management wild crowd. I had to take care of my dadi and fam from getting hurt. After reaching Gaurikund, again another 1.5km line with no special preference for senior citizens. Here people bribed the police 500rs to break and enter the line(happened right in front of me and my phone had no battery) When you reach the taxi finally, everyone tries to enter together and the police are just standing mutes. They are done with this💀. Finally got into the taxi, reached Sonprayag. Had to walk till Sitapur. Got a private taxi from there who demanded unreasonable price.We got mad and told him 4000rs till phata-mankheda(20km) which he then agreed to. Our hotel had changed to the worst possible hell of a hotel ever. I don't even want to talk about it. It has scarred me how people go about their business with 0 standards. At this point we just wanted to go home but Badrinath is left 😭
Ngl Badrinath tour was decent. Our hotel was in Piplakoti. Decent hotel called River view hotel. Roads are good. Only 4 hour line in Badrinath with heated crowd and 5 second darshan. At this point we are used to this so it's ok💀. Police was actually working and managing. Only issue we faced was directions from main road to the mandir and back. At night it gets very confusing.
Now I'd like to add, i haven't taken any names of hotels(except river view) or my tour agency because I don't mean any disrespect.
Uttrakhand is a beautiful beaitiful and amazing place with sceneries and memories I will carry with me forever. The sceneries while going to every dham are different and unique in their own way. Even just traveling from one dham to another by road is an amazing experience(excluding the jams).
I have some opinions- 1. Management is almost non-existent. Meet any Yatri and they will tell you the same. 2. Police are corrupt and lazy. Some try actively but that's like 10% of them. 3. The problem with hotels is that they are all on lease. I'll explain. The owner gives a person say Rahul their hotel on lease and asks for a certain amount per year. Rahul gets paid after that certain amount exceeds. Hotel bookings for char dham 6 months are always full. Rahul will always get this money and hence sees no need to maintain this hotel. So that's that. 4. Uttrakhand runs only and only on tourism and it is obvious. So as an individual tourist, you DO NOT matter. They don't care, they get people continuously. If your booking is cancelled there is always someone else to take it. You cannot talk sense to anyone running any type of service there. 5. Yamnoutri, Gangotri and Kedarnath roads for reaching there are narrow. Government should ban big buses permanently and is the best move they can make. These buses are 80% of the reasons for jams. They are improving roads but it's been 75+ years since independence so idk what they are doing. 6. Government should NOT take registrations when they cannot afford them. 27 Lakh registrations is not a joke. 2.8Lakh people in 4 days is not a joke. No one can manage this amount of people. Have a limit. People are spending lakhs of rupees coming from all over India for this and 90% of it is a bad experience. 7. Don't open all char dham together. This year's main issue was all 4 temples opened at the same date, 10th May. People were already ready and started rushing from 7-8th May.
Advice for Future Yatris- 1. Don't come in May. I had a compulsion so we had to. But everyone here says that the best months for char dham is September-October before Diwali. 2. If you do come in May, don't do online bookings. You need to be flexible with where you are gonna stay. 3. Carry a towel per person. Hotels are extremely possessive about their towels. 4. Leave early for every dham if you are committed to do all 4 of them. I've seen lot of people give up in jams. 5. Get warm clothes especially lot of socks and bring medicines, etc. Rain coats are ok but u need a poncho. Rain coats don't cover your bagpacks while trekking and even if they do, they will stretch and might tear. 6. Private cars/taxi yatri, spend a bit more and get a comfortable car. You will spend most of the time in your vehicle. Tempo travellers are extremely uncomfortable and avoid them. 7. Take cold water baths at colder places as warm water baths bring the blood vessels to skin level making it more sensitive later. You have to be mentally prepared before taking a cold water bath. 8. Weather changes like anything. Suncap and goggles are a must in day time. 9. If u get sick/stomach upset have black tea and biscuits. 10. Do private Pooja at Badrinath.
Good things- 1. The food is amazing. It's almost as good as homemade food. You can always tell the cook how you like your food. Do try the Vegetable Maggi at highecolder mountains. It's available everywhere. 2. Sceneries are amazing and don't forget to carry a proper camera. Phone tech these days is good too and will make photo-frame photos. 3. You will always find people to talk to. If you happen to find polite people, say the hotel cook or a homeguard or other yatris or anyone at all, you will have a good conversation. 4. The pandits are good and will only ask you to pay them if u want to for the Pooja. Always pay them. 5. No phone range. It's good so you live in the moment and can enjoy the amazing sceneries :)
I'm trying to be completely honest without involving any type of hate here and trying to paint a complete picture of what my journey was like. We had to go over budget(almost double) because we didn't know any of this even after research. Our tour agency didn't warn us about anything either. Only thing that matters is that you enter the holy grounds. You can expect amazing sceneries but not an amazing darshan in May. It's been a bittersweet journey and I am writing this while omw to home. I hope y'all find this helpful and plan accordingly only if you are going in May or peak season. Otherwise you might not face much issues in September. Thank you for reading.

I am not the OOP. The OOP is u/themachucajr posting in Marriage
Ongoing as per OOP
1 updates - Long
Original - 7th May 2024
Update - 15th May 2024
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My wife friend-zoned me and wants a platonic “companionship”
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My wife (35f) and I (35m) have been married for 15 years and we've been together for 20 years. We have two kids (12,14) we absolutely adore and work tirelessly to provide the best possible life for them. For the past 3 years, things have been somewhat bumpy. I understand that our kids are at an age where they require a ton of our attention and resources with school, band, club sports, and other extracurriculars and I'm aware of the physical and emotional toll that can have on marriages.
However, for these past 3 years, my wife and I have had very little intimacy and very little sex and we've been trying very hard to work on that aspect of our relationship. This past year has been the most difficult and by far the darkest year in our marriage. We didn’t talk very much, we essentially became roommates coparenting our kids under the same roof. It was very depressing and very demoralizing. It was to the point where we began contemplating divorce and it became very dark and gloomy in the household because of that.
We began seeking help with both individualized therapy and couples therapy and it seems to have helped some. Little by little we started to get along and started to have deeper conversations about what our marriage looks like and what we would love for it to look like. This is where it gets tough. As time passed, my wife started to tell me she no longer was "in love with me" and that she only saw me as a "best friend." That she only loved me in a very platonic way, and this was one of the main reasons she didn’t have any desire for intimacy and let alone sex.
This was very shocking to me and quite frankly, I was devastated. I because angry and depressed and I couldn't fathom the thought that I was no longer wanted or desired by the person I felt completely in love with. Things began to deteriorate again and not long after, we were back to square one. I sat down with her one afternoon and had a heart to heart and began to ask questions about where the root of this problem lies, and her answer was "I don't know" and that "I have built up resentment towards you but I don't know where it stems from." As you can imagine, this provides very little to no insight into how to approach this.
I'm puzzled, I'm frustrated and I do not know what to do at this point. Currently, we've arrived at a place where she says that she has no sex drive and no desire for intimacy or connection. She says that all she wants is simply "companionship" which basically means our coparenting roommate dynamic. I asked her what I could possibly do or what is it about me that is so unattractive or undesirable and she her response is always "I don't know." She stated that she does "love" me but its not the same. That she has been feeling disconnected for years and that our marriage just takes up too much work. Her focus is only the children for now and that my coparenting contributions are "meaningful" to her in our home.
I'm at a loss and I'm mainly venting about my frustration. It's tough to realize that the person you love has no feelings for you. I feel like at this point I'm only here to contribute financially and as a parent. I feel like what she means with "companionship" is that she's comfortable with the convenience of having a good father for our kids and my financial contribution to the household.
In regard to intimacy and/or sex, she basically told me that its not something she’s interested in or wants at this time. She mentioned that the only way to get to a point for any of that is to be intoxicated which o believe is incredibly awful and very wrong. I told her I do not think forcing herself to have sex or be intimate by drinking or smoking is good and I declined to be a part of that which to my surprise, it upset her and made her more distant.
We're both extremely honest and transparent. We've never cheated on each other and we are always free to look through each others phones, emails, socials, etc. and we hardly ever do. I asked her if there was someone else and she declined. Honestly, I believe her. We then peacefully went through each other’s things and as expected, it was clean. We've always been very forward, even with the hard topics so I don't smell nor feel any foul play or infidelity.
Am I wrong for declining to only be intimate or have sex when she’s intoxicated? (I'm firm on my stance of not partaking in this "only when I'm high or drunk" sex because it doesn’t sit well with me.) I do not know how to help our situation and I'm starting to become a bit anxious and desperate. We're both fairly young and healthy individuals and good looking. We both have good standing careers and are good parents. I'm just not sure how our lives could have driven us to this point. I'd love some outside perspective on this matter and some insight on how to address something like this. It feels so awful to be unwanted and undesired by my own spouse. I hate it.
tl;dr: My wife of 15+ years is no longer in love with me and doesn’t know way and now says she can only have sex while intoxicated or I need to settle for a platonic sexless marriage and she doesn’t know why that is but it is what it is and I'm in need of insight or advice.
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Comments
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Warthog__
From your comment history it looks like you are Swingers? If so, I would think that would be relevant information to consider.

OOP: We did some swinging in the past. That was fun for some time. We mutually decided to stop doing it and we have established it’s not the case. When we were swinging however, our marriage seemed to be in a good place. This IS something we did disclose with our couple therapist and made sure to include it to make sure we’re not neglecting an obvious potential issue.
I will say, I did ask my wife if what she experienced during swinging is something that is affecting her view on our relationship and she said it wasn’t. Our swinging experience was always together and it was very sex driven. Nothing really emotional or “poly”. Truth is, I have to believe her at her word. I have no reason to distrust her. To date, she’s always been very forward and never afraid of dealing things head on. No matter how painful.

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failedopportunities
It’s an obvious potential issue bro… wether it be she’s enjoying herself a side piece and wants nothing to do with you in that manner anymore. Or, she just went along with you on the swinging and never wanted to do it in the first place. Hence brings resentment. Regardless, should have been included in the initial post.

OOP: Swinging was her idea. Not mine. But I suppose I should have included it but I honestly believe her on it not being an issue. I don’t have any reason to distrust her. Maybe it’s something she has to accept with her therapist or our couples therapist. Can’t really approach that with a solution if she doesn’t think it was a problem. IDK

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BigIronBruce

She says that all she wants is simply "companionship" which basically means our coparenting roommate dynamic.

That's only a marriage if you both agree it is. You're hoping she's going to wake up one day and feel different but she's basically said that's not going to happen and doesn't want to figure out why she feels that way. It seems like you tried several different ways to get to the bottom of it and she's either deflected or is being honest that she's not in love with you.

Am I wrong for declining to only be intimate or have sex when she’s intoxicated?

I wouldn't do this, either, if that makes you feel better.
Will she be your best friend if you live elsewhere and have a relationship with somebody in love you. Probably not. Which makes the whole "best friend" speech feel like self-deception on her part.
I won't lie, if it were me, I'd get a divorce. She doesn't seem willing to do the work to fix the marriage and you can't fix it alone. She might promise to fix it or beg you not to but you need to follow your gut as to whether she actually can or will fix it. She's serious that she wants you to stick around but not necessarily as her husband.
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OOP: A very hard truth to accept here. Thank you

Interesting-Tip-4850

"I’m ensure I do everything possible to mend our marriage to ensure my own peace of mind and excite knowing I did everything I could."

you may still concider 180 method, to protect yourself and perhaps in the same time the reality that the ship is leaving may start to change your wifes perspective. If that doesnt what else would.

OOP: Can you elaborate on the “180 Method”?

Interesting-Tip-4850
Basically withold from any unnecesary interactions and affection. This is from an infidelity forum, but principles are the same https://www.survivinginfidelity.com/documents/library/articles/discovery/the-simplified-180/

OOP: I bookmarked this. I’m heavily considering this.

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Update - 8 days later
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I wanted to give you guys an update of how the therapy session with my wife went this week. Not sure if this is helpful or not but I took many of the responses/comments/suggestions from my initial post and put together some things I wanted to discuss with our couples therapist to help us navigate some of the core issues that may be affecting this situation.
One of the main things that is the "buzz word" of this has been the term "resentment" and it has been really eating me up inside knowing my wife keeps telling me she doesn't know why she's resentful or doesn't know why this is affecting her emotionally/mentally. I brought this up with our therapist once again and resurfaced the conversation about being married for so long (15yrs) and being together since we ere 14yrs old. Our long history of growing up and how having children when she was 19yrs old (me 20) significantly changed the trajectory of our lives.
We experience severe poverty and many hardships in the process and we essentially had zero social life for the past 10 years because we were so busy raising babies (2 kids now ages 12 &14). She followed up with tons of questions directly mostly at my wife about her feelings towards this and 90% of the responses were very "our kids" focused. It definitely felt like she was afraid of saying "yes it sucked" because she would feel guilt or shame because it would imply she regrets the kids.
I mentioned this in the session and the therapist encouraged her to look at this outside of the lens of being a mother and to try to view it a bit more selfishly and individually and it was very eye opening. My wife mentioned that she was very frustrated with the fact that we did miss out on many things in life. She also was very clear in saying "I do not think I missed out on other partners or dating or partying but I certainly lost all my friends." This was huge because one of the big pieces that has caused a strain in our lives is how silo'd and isolated we've been (again busy raising kids). I followed up by reminding her that it's important to have good friends and to make time for herself and her friendships.
For the past 3+ years, we've had multiple conversations about friends and how it is important to have them in life. Specially when you have similar peers that can help in many areas of life that perhaps we have no experience navigating and even simply for enjoyment. It has always been something my wife avoids, even though she's always been someone who needs that external stimuli. The main reason for her not investing in friends or even herself has always been "the kids." Like I mentioned earlier in this post, 90% of the answers have to relate to "the kids" to some degree.
At this point in our session I started to feel like there was a common denominator (the kids) in most of the frustrations and problems she was experiencing. So I simply asked her "Do you think you may be upset at me because I'm responsible for these kids in the sense that I got you pregnant so young?" I wasn't ready but she said that she was upset at me for that. She also followed up with the fact that she knows that's unreasonable because it "takes 2 to tango." I did feel like it was progress because it kind of gave us something to work on and help alleviate some of these "burdens" so we agreed to invest more time in nurturing good friendships both together and individually.
Towards the end of the session, we began to discuss what actionable items we would take from this session. At this point, it was still all very ambiguous and blurry as to what the outcomes were. I was very direct and very forward in asking my wife what her plan is moving forward. (NOTE: I had decided prior to the session that should my wife say the same thing about being a coparenting roommate that I would take the 180 approach and essentially do me) She started basically saying the same thing, that she doesn't have any desire to be intimate or sexual with me as of now and that she loves me immensely and she feels bad for not being there for me (as mentioned in my first post).
I also brought up the brief swinging that happened, to which for the 50th time said it wasn't a problem. I agree with her on this. This was something that was a "mechanical" approach for a solution to a problem that was very much in existent when we tried this. We (both) really have no issue to this. We know it happened, we tried it and mutually stopped and turned the page.
I also brought up other life events that may cause resentment and really we ended up not getting anywhere else as far as the root for resentment which was discouraging.
I then basically expressed to my wife that I will not be ok with that arrangement. I told her that I've really done everything I can and that this issue really has reached a point where it has nothing to do with me or require me to do anything that I'm currently not doing. I was very direct and saying that I will not be accepting this dynamic and that I need to be with someone who is actively involved in our marriage, works towards resolutions and is very much interested in maintaining an active intimacy and sexual relationship.
I expressed how I am not going to be a "convenience" and that there was more to life than being roommates and coparents. I made sure she knows I love her dearly and that I do want this to work for the better. I also told her that I'm fully committed to this marriage so long as she is as well and that is she wasn't, its ok, however I will not be a part of something where these efforts are not reciprocated. I told her I have no plans of leaving, and I do not want a divorce, however, I made it clear that if this dynamic continues that divorce will be the only outcome.
Of course tears were involved and it was a very bleak and sad ending to the session. Still nothing was said and I walked out very discouraged and very determined to start working on the 180 as soon as we left the room. It's painful and very difficult because much of the 180 requires you to be very short and cold and transactional. The saddest part is realizing, this dynamic already is very cold and transactional.
Here is where it gets VERY interesting. I started working on implementing many of the 180 recommendations that same day. I mentioned to my wife that, "hey, things are going to be a bit different moving forward. I'm going to honor her roommate/coparent dynamic without reproach and that it should be no mistake that I am not happy here and I am never going to be ok with it but I am done working on it if she wasn't going to work on it."
She agreed and went to bed. I started to build distance and started to basically focus on myself. Very short and transactional. She asked for help on some of her personal things to which I declined and it really shocked her. She was upset saying I was being petulant. I explained to her that, she is now fully in charge of her own life and her own issues.
We didn't talk all day and we only spoke when necessary. Few days I keep this going and she's very visibly upset and stressed. I typically react to that with gestures of help or nurturing but I didn't this time. That night she was crying telling me she's stressed and she things something is wrong with me because I'm "indifferent." I simply listened, then I told her that this is the dynamic she proposed and that I'm simply (much like her) taking care of myself and focusing on myself.
I'm not going to lie, it has been VERY hard to be cold and distant because as I mentioned before, I love her and I wish I could hold her and love on her. However, I know this is somewhat manipulative in a way just to get her way and still keep me in the friendzone. So I've been staying the course.
We're now going on a week of this 180 and let just say, there has been MANY changes on her side. I think she is starting to realize there is more to me than just "friends and coparenting." I sent her a text a few days ago essentially itemizing bills and separating the financial responsibilities 50/50 and SHE LOST HER SHIT. She basically told me it was "out of left field" to which I responded "hey, friends go in 50/50 and as your friend I expect nothing less."
This was very eye opening because it gave me a glimpse of I'm really taken for granted and how her level of comfort and convenience at my expense is really overlooked. I pushed through anyways and basically told her that this is the new dynamic she asked for and that its still a "bargain" because she would have to be 100% if she was on her own.
I'll wrap up with this. While the 180 has been working in many different areas, I am still very much sad about the overall situation. There have been MANY eye opening statements being said and realization that have not been pleasant to encounter. It has also sparked new energy and new efforts on her side as well. She's definitely seeking to talk to me more often and while its hard to turn down, I hope if things improve, this continues to happen.
I've also noticed that she's making more time for herself aside from being a mom which is HUGE because she pretty much neglected herself for years. I'm very pleased seeing her be more herself. My hope is that as we work on ourselves, the marriage improves. There really is no telling at this point where this will go. We are very much cordial and amicable even to this day and that's a very good sign.
Boundaries are set and expectations are very clear and I feel that no matter the outcome, I will be at peace with everything that has been done. We're still going to continue the couples therapist until we either rekindle our marriage or end up in divorce. I feel like having this nonbiased third party really helps as a witness and as a guide through this. No matter what I will always love my wife, however, I will not participate in a sexless, intimacy less marriage because we both deserve better.
Thank you all for all the kind words and recommendations and feedback. This will be my last post on this topic and I wish you all the best.
TL;DR: My wife friend-zoned me wants to just coparent at my expense but I started the 180 method to try and find a solution because she doesn't want to work on us which seems to be working on getting her out of her rut and helping me discover more about how she feels. Also, therapy is paramount and highly recommend to all couples.
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Comments
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Complete-Old-1960
Bottom line and not to be brutal, but there is one thing you don't have infinite amount of, is TIME. This has to be resolved in a timely manner. It takes 2 to be in love and to be loved, and u only have ½ of the equation. You need to put a time limit on you being the good guy and think of you and your future. Look hope it works out for you, but listening to what you are going through and what you could be in for you can still be a good father but also be a great husband to another wife if you find that special person again.

OOP: Definitely. I think this “soft ultimatum” (180 method) has been very eye opening. I’m definitely hoping for a rekindling of our marriage but I’m also bracing for divorce. I agree on a timeline and I’ve decided on a timeline for myself privately. I don’t want to give her a timeline because I want to reduce the pressure, however, after 1-2 yrs of things don’t improve, it won’t be shocking or a surprise if we split. I think 1-2yrs is more than reasonable.

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shes_a_killer
I have to agree with this, simply because at some point, the person who has gone 180 and is waiting for the other person to decide will begin to wonder, "Wow, they're really taking their time coming around to me...did they love me at all? If they ever appreciated and cared for me, why would they keep me waiting and neglecting me for so long?" Except, in my case, it had more to do with the other person being stubborn and unable to admit their faults.

OOP: I understand what you mean. I don’t think I’ll ever doubt she loved me at all. I’m certain she did and I’m certain she still does. I know it sounds crazy and I’m not at all infatuated or blinded by love. Love is far more than the intimacy and sex we’re lacking.

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RandyPan_theGoatBoy
I think it’s interesting that in the comments of your original post you said you didn’t think she was taking you for granted but you came to realize she absolutely was. Can you give some more details on what the 180 method is?

OOP: Yeah, I definitely felt this way. But with this 180 method it’s happening right in front of my eyes. Actual actions and reactions taking place that clearly demonstrate that she is taking me for granted. She actually see this as well. It’s evident she’s thinking about this heavily based on her demeanor and her behavior.
Here’s what I used as a guide:
https://beingabeautifulmess.wordpress.com/the-180/
https://www.survivinginfidelity.com/documents/library/articles/discovery/the-simplified-180/

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I am not the OOP. Please do not harass the OOP.
Please remember the No Brigading Rule and to be civil in the comments

I am not the OOP. The OOP is u/evastraea posting in AmItheAsshole
Concluded as per OOP
2 updates - Long
Original - 21st June 2022
Update1 - 27th June 2022
Comment from OOP - 27th June 2022
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AITA for not giving my adopted daughter a stuffed animal for her high school graduation, when both of my biological children got one?
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I [49f] have 3 children, [22f], [19m], and [18f]. My oldest are my biological children from a previous marriage, and my youngest I became a mother to at the age of 2 when I married her widowed father. She has only ever called me mom, and I officially adopted her at the age of 12.
Now on to the issue with the stuffed animals: years and years ago, when I was only 20 and in college, I worked at a children's museum. I adored the job and working with kids, and had the idea to buy stuffed animals from the gift shop to be my future-kids' first stuffed animals whenever they were born. I had gotten a stuffed bear at birth that was very special to me growing up, and on my 18th birthday my parents gifted me a duplicate they had bought way back when and kept for me all these years. I found this so special, and wanted to do something similar, so I bought 6 stuffed animals from the museum's gift shop; 3 to be given at birth, and 3 duplicates. I had no idea at the time how many kids I would have, but I knew I wasn't planning on having more than 3, so I didn't get any more.
My first daughter received the stuffed animal I selected for her while pregnant. Then, between her birth and the birth of my son, I miscarried. The experience was deeply traumatic for me, especially as I miscarried in my second trimester, and I buried my baby with the stuffed animal they would have gotten. I kept the duplicate to for comfort, to cuddle and hold.
Finally, my son was born and received the last of the stuffed animals I had set aside so many years ago. Now, here's where I may be the asshole. For both my daughter and son's high school graduations, I surprised them with the duplicates, for them to take to college with them and compare against the stuffies they've been loving on their whole lives. Both were very moved by this, and took both (original and duplicate) to school with them.
My youngest, however, never received a stuffed animal, and so when her graduation celebration rolled along I had no duplicate to gift her. I watched her unpack all her gifts, and her face fall when she got to the last one and realized. She didn't really say anything, just got this super sad look on her face, and excused herself to her room. I followed to ask what was wrong, but she said she didn't want to talk to me, so her father went in instead.
According to him she cried to him that she didn't feel as loved by me as her siblings, and as much a part of the family - the unwrapping of her siblings' stuffed animals were very emotional events, and she had had the expectation she'd be getting the same. In hindsight I could have easily done something similar for her whenever I first came into her life, even if it wouldn't have been from the museum, but I just didn't think of it. She has been cold to me this entire last week, and I feel so terrible, I've offered to take her out to a special dinner the two of us to make amends but she turned me down. AITA?
Edit: the votes are in, and I am definitively TA. Many of you are suggesting that I get her a stuffie that reminds me of her, or maybe to get her two so she can continue the tradition with her future kids. But I think what I will do is gift her the duplicate my parents gifted me of my special plush bear I received at birth, which is one of my most treasured possessions, and deeply meaningful to me. Thank you all for the advice, it is genuinely appreciated.
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Comments
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Mrs-Addams
YTA. Nothing quite says “you’re not like my other kids” like leaving her out of a family tradition when her turn came. I’m sorry about the loss of your baby and understand why you kept that stuffed animal for your own, however, the tradition could have started with her when she joined your family at age 2, or when you formally adopted her.
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SmartassMouth89
YTA your kids grew up together and for years you never once thought to go and buy two stuffed animals for your adoptive daughter?
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QueenKeisha
Right? In 16 years, and after giving 2 other bears away, she didn’t once think, hey what about youngest?
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SmartassMouth89
Right? She liked the daughters dad enough to marry him but didn’t think that it would be a good idea to give the two year old a stuffie at the wedding?
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Update - 6 days later
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Long story short: my daughter found my reddit post, and came to me in tears apologizing for her reaction. This was NOT my expectation, and I assured her she had nothing to apologize for, as I had been in the wrong. We had a long discussion about the situation, our feelings, and how to move forward from this, and although I know she is still hurt we are on our way to making amends.
Long story long: so what even happened? As I've now discovered, my daughter loves browsing AITA. She stumbled on my post, and after reading it in it's entirety, as well as a good chunk of the comments (all of mine, and many left by other redditors) she came to me in tears apologizing for her reaction.
She sobbed in my arms that she didn't want this to be the end of our relationship, and that she was sorry, and wanted to enjoy this last summer together. I held her and assured her she had nothing to apologize for, and apologized myself (I did shed a little tear, but tried to keep my emotions in check as I did not want the burden of comforting me to be on her).
What followed was a productive but incredibly emotionally vulnerable conversation, the details of which I will not disclose entirely. She has been going through a rough time, and my impression (I could be wrong) is that the lack of a stuffie at graduation was a catalyst for bigger emotions. She did take me up on my offer to take her to dinner, and I've now booked a reservation at a nice restaurant she has been wanting to go to for a while.
And last night we cooked her favorite dinner together, which gave us an opportunity to smooth things over somewhat. We have not yet broached the subject of me intending to gift her my own plush, except for very briefly (she insisted I didn't have to, and seemed to feel a lot of guilt), but I still plan to. I just feel it would be best to wait until things have cooled down.
And if she truly doesn't feel comfortable taking it, I plan on getting a bear of a similar look to be its "little brother" for her to take care of. That's the update, obviously things have not magically mended overnight, but we are finally on-track to a resolution. Many thanks to all that left advice, and please check the comments below for clarification on many questions asked before passing any judgements (I far exceeded the allowed word limit, and have instead pasted much of what I intended to say here below).
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Comments
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aroundincircles
Read your first post and this one, and I feel it from both sides. My wife and I recently adopted a bio niece (13 yo this week) and she welcomes us as dad and mom, but we've run into a number of times where the kids will pull out something from a trip we went on, or an activity we did, etc years before she was ever in our lives, and she'll go "why don't you have one of those for me"? It's really hard, some of these things are simply impossible for us to get, and/or would cost us thousands of dollars (when We already spent 30+k on custody/adoption lawyers and court fees).
She also didn't even bring anything with her when we picked her up, she wasn't even allowed to bring a change of underwear. It's been something that we've had to deal with in counselling that her life with us didn't start till she was almost 12, and we have to begin fresh from there, we cannot turn back the clock and give her back an entire childhood she missed. Like when we went camping for the first time with her, and we were getting things out to visually see what we needed to get from the store and we pulled out the kid's sleeping bags, and she was like "where is mine", and the fact that we didn't already have one hurt her.
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Glum_Hamster_1076
And that doesn’t make you an ahole. I hope no one will call you one. Situations change and you’re not always able to “make up for it”. OP didn’t do this to hurt her daughter and it’s weird people are painting it that way. I hope things are going well with you all in therapy and your family is making great strides together.
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Comment from OOP
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When I initially posted to AITA, I was prepared to face judgment, and open to constructive criticism. However, while I did receive many constructive comments, which I truly appreciate, I received many more that were hateful and unconstructive, and I will admit, I did get defensive. But the attitude I took on in the comments is not one I brought into my interactions with my daughter; please understand that I did not throw in her face all the kind things I feel I've done for her over the years, but was rather attempting to contextualize our relationship for strangers who've never met us.
And before passing any further judgment in the comments, please check below for answers to a lot of the questions asked in the original thread. To answer a few questions: why did I not adopt her until 10 years after I came into her life? Because I never sought to force myself on her as her mother, and waited until she could give me explicit consent to adopt her. Why did I never buy her any stuffed animals? I did. I bought her many when I first met her, as well as one for her official adoption day, and every adoption day celebration since.
And I did technically gift her a stuffed animal for her graduation, too, it was just a plush of her college's mascot rather than a duplicate of a treasured plush from her childhood. So why did I not buy her a duplicate at any point over the last 16 years? I did not think to until my oldest graduated and received hers, by which point I (mistakenly) felt the significance would be lost. Both my bio kids received stuffies saved for them for decades, whereas she would have received one saved for only four years. Instead I tried to honor her in other ways, such as (as I described in the comments) crafting her a cookbook of generational family recipes that I illustrated by hand, because she is her own individual.
Truthfully, while I understand the sentiments expressed in the comments, I don't believe recognizing differences is inherently a bad thing. The duplicate stuffies my bio kids received were duplicates of the very first stuffies to ever be in their crib with them. Their receival of them was a birth event, and I did not give birth to my youngest. But that does not mean I love her any less, or that she is any less my daughter.
We have established our own traditions honoring her entry into my life, such as our celebration of her adoption day, and while I realize I could have handled the stuffie situation better, I do believe it was an honest mistake. But how could I not include her in a treasured family tradition, knowing how important it is (especially as an adopted child) to feel a part of the family? Because I truly did not realize this one specific tradition meant as much to her as it did.
I have strived to include her in as many family traditions as possible throughout the years. As I mentioned in the comments, she speaks German because I taught and spoke it to her growing up, even though her father does not. We celebrate German traditions, such as baking countless batches of German Christmas cookies together every year (just the two of us, neither of her siblings have any interest in baking), which is something I grew up doing with my mom, and every year it is quality time I deeply treasure.
For her 16th birthday I gifted her the locket my mother gifted me on my 16th, which she'd been gifted by my grandmother before me - this actually upset my eldest daughter, who had not received such a hand-me-down, and this is just to name a few. So given the fact that she has on occasion received and taken part in traditions my other kids have been excluded from, I did not think the stuffie would carry as much weight as it ultimately did. But isn't her reaction an indication that there are larger issues at play, and that she has likely felt this way for a while? Perhaps.
I am not a perfect adoptive mother, and have never claimed to be. And I can not see inside her brain, so I cannot know her true feelings. But my sense - and I may be wrong! - is that the larger issues at play relate back to her bio mom, which is something she expressed to me in our conversation. I did not disclose this in my original post, because I did not believe it to be relevant, and it is also a painful topic within our family, but her bio mom committed suicide whilst in the thick of post-partum depression. This has obviously impacted my daughter, who has been in and out of therapy for years grappling with feelings of loss, and guilt.
She is highly sensitive to feeling isolated within our family unit, which is something I should have taken into account in this situation, and I own that. I realize this is a huge hunk of text, but given the visceral reaction many had, I felt it was important to cover my bases. Come to whatever conclusions you all like, I will likely not be checking the comments for my own mental health, and the wellbeing of my family. To all who left genuine advice, even if that meant calling me an asshole, I truly do appreciate you. And to all who said hateful things, especially in regard to the loss of my baby, please consider the impact your words may have moving forward
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Comments
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Rice-Correct
You’re a good mom. It might’ve been a mistake not to gift her the plush, and it might, as you said, just have been indicative of some larger big emotions going on, as graduating is a HUGE milestone and going to college is an enormous life change that is very rewarding and exciting, but also stressful. But it sounds like you’ve been amazing about creating beautiful memories and experiences together! I think at some point, the plush will be a distant memory. From your post, it seems pretty clear you DO have a good relationship, and you’re a caring, empathetic parent. ENJOY your summer together, Mama!
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sharraleigh
Don't take the hateful comments personally; it's easy to be cruel online to a faceless stranger. Also, your original post didn't include all this info (it would've been impossible to anyway), and therefore lacked a lot of the back story and nuance that frankly, a real person's life experience encompasses. Your daughter probably saw your post and realized how her reaction hurt your feelings and read the hateful comments and felt bad for you. It sounds like you have a great relationship and you're lucky to have each other in your lives!
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I am not the OOP. Please do not harass the OOP.
Please remember the No Brigading Rule and to be civil in the comments

1 Corinthians 3:6 “I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God has been making it grow.”
Good morning. Today is a very special day. This is the day the Lord has made. We will rejoice and be glad in it. (Psalm 118:24) Each day is a rich and precious gift from God, with new grace and opportunities. How will you make the best use of this day that the Lord has given us?
Paul suggests, in the passage above, that we plant seeds and water them. The seeds he is referring to are the truths of the gospel lived out in our lives. Share your life’s journey and how God has blessed you. Share the love of God that lives in your heart. When you do that, you are both planting seeds and watering them.
You may be sharing with someone who has never heard the message before. As you share you are planting the seed. They may not seem to grasp what you shared. That’s ok. Just share. Trust God that someone else will come along and share also. That’s watering. It may take a few people watering and nurturing the planted seeds before people respond. And of course, remember that they have their agency and not everyone will accept Jesus as their Savior.
Remember also that you and I have not been called to convince anyone of anything. We are only called to share our story; to plant and water seeds. Trust that God can make it grow.
Sid, my husband, was near death in the ICU. The doctors had done all they could do and he just wasn’t responding. They shook their heads. I was told I could take him home if I wanted so he could die at home. However, God had other plans and during the night, he turned around and began showing progress.
The cardiologist came in early in the morning. I walked into the room, knowing that Sid was improving as I had spent the night there. I can still see the smile on that doctor’s face. I said, “He surprised you, didn’t he?” The doctor responded, “He sure did. Thank God.” I told him I did thank God and I thanked him and the others for all they did. He humbly told me not to thank him. He said he knew the treatments and medicine to give but he couldn’t make it work. Only God could do that.
That’s what this verse is talking about. We use our resources, our gifts and talents, sharing our experiences, all to serve God. We do our best to share his love and hope with others. We do so praying, not that they listen to us, but that they see and hear God in the midst of it. Our actions and words must point to the only one who can make it work. Their response should be to him, not us.
Let God use you to be a master gardener planting and watering seeds for him. Be blessed to be a blessing.
🙏Father, thank you for loving me and placing people in my life who loved you enough to plant and water seeds in me. Bless me to always place you as number one as I plant seeds for you. Help me to keep trusting you and to keep gardening in your name. Amen 🙏

I (33f 180lbs) was “diagnosed” with whooping cough on 5/15 after being exposed to potential whooping cough from 5/10-5/12. No tests were performed for either of us but was assumed for person I got it from due to high rate in her area and long lasting cough (she was “diagnosed” 5/13).
Anyways, I was prescribed zpak, prednisone, and benzonatate. I finished antibiotics and prednisone Sunday. I have illness induced asthma and started having a lot of wheezing early Sunday morning/maybe the day before.
As of yesterday, I should be no longer contagious but my chest is rattling every time I breathe. The cough isn’t awful yet but I do cough often. I thought I was taking mucinex this whole time but discovered yesterday morning it was just a nighttime cold medicine. I am now three mucinex pills in. Drank a lot of water and tea yesterday.
My concern is,is the congestion supposed to be this bad at this point after antibiotics? Do I need to go back to urgent care today? I am supposed to return to work tomorrow and I work with a highly immunocompromised population and am terrified of still being contagious. Is there anything else that might be prescribed for me that may help this congestion? I sound pretty gross when I cough. I do produce some and it’s more of a whitish green. I can tell my breathing is a little better this morning but the congestion is still quite a lot.
Any insight is very much appreciated.

Hello all,
I have checked with the moderator before posting this, everything here is deliberately vague so it's not a form of promotion of my services.
Background
I was diagnosed at the age of 32 in 2014. After some initial improvement from medication, about three years, things just reverted to hopeless and a lot of the bad of ADHD somewhat turned my life upside down. I was in pretty poor shape from late 2018 until 2023.
Anyhow, I am Irish, but now living in Barcelona since late 2022. One big upside to that move was it's so much easier to get help here. Proper help from serious Adult ADHD specialists, and no real waiting lists to see them. I am now doing very well and have been for months, it feels very different living with ADHD now than ever before under their care.
I really feel for you guys back in Ireland, I really had such an underwhelming experience of getting help for almost decade before I emigrated, despite multiple attempts to seek it. I ended up in Barcelona over-medicated, fed up and at a total stage of denial about ADHD after giving up on it ever getting any better.
ADHD Coaching
As part of the new approach to my treatment, I was sent to an ADHD Coach by a psychiatrist, who was quite dismayed with how I presented to him considering I'd be diagnosed for a decade and apparently "treated".
I was so impressed and improved by Coaching, on top of my medication, of which I'm now taking less than before and doing much better, I decided to leave my 20+ successful and senior career in tech behind me and trained to become a coach myself.
So, I have left my job and have been working for many months full-time to reach where I am at now. I will also be offering Business Training and Consultancy on how employers can deal with ADHD in the workplace.
Coaching offer
So, after committing to this career path, I've reached the end of the formal learning part of an CPD accredited ADHD Coaching course. At this time, I am required to submit a video of a coaching session to go along with my test.
Rather than fake this somehow, I am willing to offer two people here ADHD Coaching, of four sessions, at no cost. To note, I have been doing practice coaching calls for a couple of months, but I want to do something more aligned with a real-world use-case.
There is a purpose to the four week period as one session is not enough to make any progress but it is enough to dig into at least one challenge in a comprehensive way. I can't commit to a full up to 10-12 week engagement at no cost though. That said, I will only require one of the four sessions from each person to be recorded, the other three do not have to be.
The sessions will be conducted online, at one week intervals and be one hour in length each.
Coaching focus
I am particularly interested in working with adults in the workforce, entrepreneurs and managers who are struggling to find their way with ADHD.
This is closest aligned with my own experience and interest. However, my only real "rule" is, even though I could and have trained to, I do not feel comfortable or could work with anyone under the age of 18 and will not be offering any services here in future.
With that in mind, while I will consider anyone over the age of 18, I may feel I need prioritise my focus area over first-come-first-served, if multiple people do reach out. I hope you can understand.
How to apply
If you are interested, please DM me and I'll send you a link to the website which is currently not published as I don't intend to advertise for about a month. I will ask that you not to share this with anyone.
I'll also outline everything including privacy and agreement, before going ahead with any sessions.
Thanks, Gary

I'm seeking your help since I'm kind of in a pickle. Late started preparing. Have finished first reading of marrow videos along with marrow notes for all subject except these:
1)surgery 2)OBG 3)ortho 4)ent 5)opthal 6) Community medicine.
It is really a source of great bother, and constant stress. I have to take a government college seat in this exam. There is no option for later. I can tell reasons in DM if anyone is curious.
Starting today I need a plan to reach my goal. I was thinking just doing MCQ's day in and day out. Then I got to thinking should I do one subject a day MCQ'S.
Or should I see marrow revision videos for the subjects which I haven't touched. And then start mcqs.
How many days will this route eat up? I would implore you to kindly give it a few minutes thought and help me.
Thank you.

Apple TV+ is one of the strangest streamers out there, with almost no licensed TV or film content and a small number of originals. That makes the best movies on Apple TV+ easy to find. There simply aren’t that many! Apple is clearly taking a “quality over quantity” approach, with its money spread across genres and targeted at making its subscribers (many roped in with a deal that came with one of the company’s tech products) treat it like a real contender. It also helps that it’s only $4.99 a month, or free for a year if you’ve just purchased a new (and eligible) device.
With films from up-and-comers like Minhal Baig, arthouse favorites like Sofia Coppola and Werner Herzog, some A-list music docs, one of the best animated movies of the 2020s and Martin Scorsese’s latest, Apple TV+ is actually making the case that it belongs in the conversation alongside the more established services. As long as it keeps adding good movies to its roster, that is. It recently snagged a few critical darlings like Killers of the Flower Moon and Wolfwalkers.

10. The Pigeon Tunnel

For a documentary about one of the most celebrated writers of spy fiction, The Pigeon Tunnel can seem—at first glance—deceptively placid. Clocking in at just over 90 minutes, the film features an extended conversation between David Cornwell, AKA John le Carre, and Oscar-winning docmaker Errol Morris. It’s just that. Two people talking, with Morris off-screen, their parrying question-and-answers broken up with archival images and re-enactments of Cornwell’s past, as well as snippets from the classic movies or TV adaptations based on his spy universe: The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy and A Perfect Spy.

9. Hala

Writedirector Minhal Baig’s Hala is an intimate coming-of-age drama held up by its personal writerly touches and a star-making turn from Geraldine Viswanathan as the title character. Hala’s struggling with the same kinds of things we normally see high school characters struggle with: What to do after graduation, how to manage a relationship with her parents that’s not quite adult and not quite childish, and (of course) boys. Viswanathan’s understated quiet and the warmth in which the situations are shot (almost always centered on her face)—be they at a family dinner or a walk in a Chicago park or a reading of a high school English assignment—make the dramatic ricochet of Hala’s minor rebellion rattle us all the harder.

8. Boys State

The tendency to read too much into Boys State as a representative of American politics—contemporary, functional, broken and otherwise—doesn’t quite line up with the event itself, in which every year the American Legion sponsors a sort of mock government sleepaway camp in Texas for high school boys (girls get a similar program of their own), where attendees join parties, run for office, craft platforms, run campaigns, hold debates, then ultimately exercise their right to vote.

7. On the Rocks

Sofia Coppola’s new movie On the Rocks starts out as a story of possessive fatherhood, with Felix (Bill Murray) narrating to his teenage daughter, Laura: “And remember, don’t give your heart to any boys. You are mine until you get married. Then you’re still mine.” The girl laughs off the declaration as a jape, which turns out to be a catastrophic tactical mistake. In her womanhood, Laura (Rashida Jones), does indeed get married to a man, Dean (Marlon Wayans), and they have two beautiful daughters of their own, eldest Maya (Liyanna Muscat) and youngest Theo (Alexandra Mary Reimer).

6. Bruce Springsteen’s Letter to You

The black-and-white behind-the-scenes documentary accompaniment to Bruce Springsteen’s album of the same name, Bruce Springsteen’s Letter to You is a beautiful and companionable tour through the music and its making from an American master. Director Thom Zimny buys into the album’s concept, which focuses on just how long Springsteen’s been at this thing. Poignant juxtaposition with archival footage and pictures emphasizes just how long the E Streeters have been at this—and reminds us of who and what was lost along the way.
Also Read: The Last Duel

5. Fireball: Visitors from Darker Worlds

Werner Herzog will show you multiple clips from Mimi Leader’s Deep Impact for no other reason than because he likes them, he finds them well-done and evocative—he says as much in that even-keeled, oddly accented voice over—then soon after chastise “film school doctrine” when complimenting a field video shot by a South Korean meteor specialist in Antarctica. Like Nomad: In the Footsteps of Bruce Chatwin, his documentary from earlier in the year, Fireball (co-directed with Clive Oppenheimer, with whom he made 2016’s Into the Inferno) is less about what it’s about (meteorites, shooting stars, cosmic debris—and the people who love them) than it is about Werner Herzog’s life, which is his filmography, which is a heavily manipulated search for ultimate truth.

4. CODA

Sometimes a movie so successfully plunges you into its world that it completely engulfs you in a lived-in experience. From the gorgeous, scenic opening moments of CODA, you can almost smell the Atlantic salt air and pungent scent of the daily catch. The movie transports you to Gloucester, Massachusetts and lovingly drops you into the life of one family. Seventeen-year-old Ruby Rossi (Emilia Jones) is what the title of the movie refers to—a child of deaf adults.

3. A Charlie Brown Christmas

We could get into plenty of arguments over which Charlie Brown animated special is best, but A Charlie Brown Christmas is my favorite pull of the bunch. Charlie Brown’s confrontation with the Christmas season’s commercialism (back in 1965 no less) and a sad little fir tree make this a cartoon classic, as the ultimate funny-pages shlimazel suffers endless social indignities (no Christmas cards) and the holiday blues.

2. Wolfwalkers

Wolfwalkers is filmmaker and animator Tomm Moore’s latest project out of Cartoon Saloon, the animation studio he co-founded in 1999 with Paul Young, and the capper to his loosely bound Irish folklore trilogy (begun with 2009’s The Secret of Kells and continued with 2014’s Song of the Sea). At first blush, the film appears burdened with too much in mind—chiefly thoughts on everything from English colonialism to earnest portraiture of Irish myths, the keystones of Moore’s storytelling for the last decade.

1. Killers of the Flower Moon

Martin Scorsese has made a career telling stories that tackle issues of justice, retribution and betrayal. From his overt and poetic crime films, through to his dark comedies, religious parables and character pieces, he has long been drawn to stories where the ambiguities of life collide with the complexities of survival, and where day-to-day choices result in consequences sometimes obvious, and sometimes far more subtle and insidious.

Traveling is often about discovering new landscapes, cuisines, and cultures. But what if your journey also included exploring ancient wisdom and healing traditions? In the heart of Himachal Pradesh, homestays offer more than just a place to stay; they provide a gateway to the rich heritage of local medicinal plants and traditional healing practices. Whether you're at the best homestay in Shimla or one of the luxury homestays in Himachal you're in for an enlightening experience that connects you with nature's pharmacy and the time-honored wisdom of the locals.

The Best Homestay in Shimla: A Gateway to Nature's Pharmacy

Shimla, known for its serene beauty and colonial charm, is also a treasure trove of medicinal plants. Staying at the best homestay in Shimla, such as Apple Blossom Retreat, offers a unique opportunity to delve into the world of traditional healing. The hosts, who have deep-rooted knowledge of the local flora, often take guests on guided walks through nearby forests and meadows, pointing out various medicinal plants and explaining their uses.
During one such walk, I was introduced to the “Himalayan Yew,” known for its anti-cancer properties, and “Rhododendron,” whose flowers are used to make a soothing tea that helps alleviate headaches and cold symptoms. The hosts shared fascinating stories about how these plants have been used for centuries in local remedies, providing a deeper appreciation of the region's natural resources.

Luxury Homestays in Himachal: Blending Comfort with Traditional Healing

For those seeking a more opulent experience, luxury homestays in Himachal, like the Royal Pine Palace in Manali, offer both comfort and a connection to traditional healing practices. These homestays often have beautifully maintained gardens where medicinal plants are grown. Guests can learn about the cultivation and uses of these plants, and even participate in workshops on making herbal infusions, balms, and other natural remedies.
At Royal Pine Palace, the hosts organize regular sessions with local healers and Ayurveda practitioners who share their knowledge of traditional medicine. One evening, I attended a session on Ayurveda, learning about the principles of this ancient healing system and how it integrates with the local traditions of using medicinal plants. The experience was both relaxing and educational, providing insights into how these practices promote holistic well-being.

Discovering Traditional Healing Practices

Himachal Pradesh is rich in traditional healing practices that are passed down through generations. At the best homestay in Shimla, I had the opportunity to meet a local healer who demonstrated the use of “Nagkesar,” a plant used to treat digestive issues and joint pain. He explained how the plant's bark is made into a paste and applied to the affected areas, a practice that has been effective for centuries.
In the luxury homestays in Himachal, such as Royal Pine Palace, the integration of traditional healing with modern comforts is seamless. The homestay offers spa treatments that incorporate locally sourced medicinal plants. A massage with oils infused with “Kuth” (Saussurea lappa) and “Ashwagandha” not only relaxes the body but also rejuvenates the mind, showcasing the powerful benefits of these ancient remedies.

Immersive Experiences

The beauty of staying at these homestays lies in the immersive experiences they offer. At Apple Blossom Retreat in Shimla, evenings were spent learning to prepare herbal teas and concoctions using plants like “Tulsi” (Holy Basil) and “Giloy” (Tinospora cordifolia). The hosts explained how these plants boost immunity and detoxify the body, emphasizing the importance of using fresh, locally sourced ingredients.
Similarly, at Royal Pine Palace, I joined a cooking class that incorporated medicinal herbs into traditional Himachali cuisine. Dishes like “Siddu,” a steamed bread stuffed with a mixture of poppy seeds and ground nuts, were enhanced with herbs like “Ajwain” (Carom seeds) known for their digestive benefits. These classes highlighted how traditional knowledge is seamlessly woven into everyday life, making the experience both delicious and enlightening.

Conclusion

Staying at the best homestay in Shimla or one of the luxury homestays in Himachal offers a unique opportunity to connect with the region’s rich heritage of medicinal plants and traditional healing practices. These homestays provide more than just a luxurious stay; they open the doors to a world of ancient wisdom and natural remedies. Whether through guided nature walks, hands-on workshops, or immersive cooking classes, guests leave with a deeper appreciation of how traditional knowledge can enhance modern living. Embrace the chance to learn and heal, and let the beauty and wisdom of Himachal Pradesh transform your travel experience.

Welcome to Skin Secrets by Dr. Greta McLaren, your trusted source for non-invasive cosmetic treatments near Port Charlotte, FL. At our clinic, we focus on addressing a variety of skin concerns such as face wrinkles, eyebags, acne, neck wrinkles, and more, using the latest advancements in aesthetic medicine.
Under the expert guidance of Dr. Greta McLaren, our team is dedicated to providing you with effective, non-surgical solutions tailored to enhance your natural beauty and improve your skin’s health. We are committed to helping you achieve a smoother, clearer, and more youthful complexion without the need for invasive procedures.
Visit Skin Secrets near Port Charlotte, where we combine innovative techniques with personalized care to deliver transformative results that will leave you looking and feeling your best.
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For Your Face

• Botox & Dysport

Achieve a relaxed, well-rested, more youthful appearance by smoothing and lessening the wrinkles between the brows, on the forehead and/or around the eyes.

• Dermal Fillers

Reverse the changes associated with aging with Restylane™, Juvéderm™, or Radiesse™ and achieve a more natural appearance than surgery affords.

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FaceTite is a minimally-invasive contouring solution for the face and small areas of the body. This is a safe, effective, and exciting treatment that offers patients significant aesthetic changes. FaceTite is powered by RFAL technology and involves three-dimensional remodeling of the tissue.

• Renuvion

Renuvion is an advanced energy device combining the unique properties of cold helium plasma with RF energy. Helium plasma focuses on RF energy for greater control of tissue effect, enabling a high level of precision and virtually eliminating unintended tissue trauma.

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PRP with Microneedling is used to improve the appearance of wrinkles, scars, and stretch marks. It rejuvenates the under-eye area; tightens stubborn open pores; plumps and volumizes any area (e.g. cheeks) where someone might otherwise get fillers.

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• Fat Transfer

Fat transfer to the face is quickly becoming the #1 treatment to rejuvenate aging skin replace lost volume, restoring fullness, and smoothing wrinkles.

• Renuvion

Renuvion Cosmetic Technology is a revolutionary minimally invasive technology used to tighten skin on the face and b

Facial Treatments

• Hydrowand Microdermabrasion

Utilizing DiamondTome facial wands with diamond tips, the superficial layers of dead skin cells are removed revealing luminous, glowing skin. A great treatment for fine lines and wrinkles, hyperpigmentation, acne scars and blackheads.

• Dermaplane

Dermaplaning is safe, provided the person performing it is properly trained, and highly effective physical exfoliation procedure. It requires the use of a sterile, surgical scalpel to gently “shave” the skin’s surface, removing the top-most layer of dead skin along with fine, vellus hair (aka peach fuzz).

• Chemical Peels

Chemical peels rejuvenate your face and chest by improving the appearance of fine lines, blemishes, uneven skin pigmentation, and acne.

LASER & RF TREATMENTS

• Forever Young BBL™

Forever Young BBL™ is a skin rejuvenation treatment using a type of Intense Pulsed light or IPL called BBL which stands for broad band light. While similar to a laser, broad band light is multiple wavelengths of light instead of just one, allowing different conditions to be treated at the same time.

• Fractional C02 / Skin Resurfacing

Restore your skin to its natural beauty and healthy glow with a revolutionary treatment designed to repair years of environmental damage. Your skin’s texture, tone, and tightness will improve, and acne scarring and wrinkles will diminish through the stimulation of the body’s natural production of collagen.

• IPL (Intense Pulsed Light) Laser Therapy

IPL (Intense Pulsed Light) Laser Therapy is a wonderful treatment option that can treat numerous skin conditions without injuring the skins surface.

• Lumecca for Skin Damage

Lumecca is a breakthrough intense pulsed light (IPL) that delivers up to 3X more energy in the 500-600 nm range to improve efficacy for vascular and pigmented lesions. It is optimized for clinicians to treat a variety of lesions with fewer sessions.

• Microlaser Peel
• PDO Thread-Lift

PDO therapy involves the implantation of fine, absorbable polydioxanone threads, similar to those used in medical suturing, into the subcutaneous layer of the skin using small needles.

• ProFractional Laser Treatment
• Radio Frequency (RF) Micro-Needling

Morpheus8 is a fractional skin treatment that stimulates collagen production of the underlying layers of the dermis. By targeting the deeper layers of the skin, the building blocks will reorganize themselves in a natural anti-aging process.

• ThermiSmooth

ThermiSmooth is a non-invasive procedure that uses radiofrequency for improving skin laxity. It is ideal for treating problem areas around the eyes, mouth, cheeks, and neck.

Pamper Youself

• Cavitation
• Facial
• Lash and Brow Tint
• Waxing Services
• Micro-Channeling
• Permanent Makeup

Premier Medical Spa, and Anti-Aging Clinic near Port Charlotte, FL

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For over 30 years, Dr. McLaren has undergone extensive training in both cosmetic dermatology and laser surgery. She is a laser Surgeon and aesthetic medicine specialist who is considered an expert and has been invited to teach her aesthetic skills nationally to other physicians throughout the United States. She is a member of the American Society of Laser Medicine and Surgery, and American Society for Photodynamic Therapy.
Message Skin Secrets today or call us at [239-800-SKIN(7546)](tel:2398007546) to schedule your complimentary consultation.