Throwaway account. The cast: Myself (25) and my husband "Tom" (27), his brother "Fern" (30), his sister "Margaret" (40) and her husband "Cory" (37), their dad and their stepmom. This is going to be super long, so I apologize in advance, but there really is SO much to get through.
I married into the family about a year ago. They are all a pretty tight knit bunch, but have been exceedingly welcoming and accepting towards me. It took a while for me to warm up because Im always hesitant around new people, but I actually have a lot of fun with them and they have gone out of their way to make me feel like part of the family. I discovered early on that my husband's family has a unique way of handling conflict, and its in sharp contrast to the way my own family handles disagreements. My family confronts issues head on (sometimes ending in screaming matches if it gets heated enough) and all of us tend to speak up when something is bothering us or is fundamentally hurtful to someone. Tom's family is the opposite- they rarely address anything in real time, if at all. They typically whisper about it behind each other's backs, and usually just sit in tension for extended periods of time. It's been made clear to me that the only person in his family that is directly allowed to address an issue is their dad; everyone else follows suit. This means if he isn't saying anything, no one else does- period.
The issue in all of this? My husbands sister, Margaret. I'll give you a little bit of background- She has 4 kids with her husband Cory and they have a really odd dynamic between the two of them. Margaret is the more domineering of the two, often speaking for the both of them while Cory just sort of sits there and nods along. Margaret is really prone to emotional outbursts over things that simply do not make any sense. There are so many instances of the chaos that Margaret has caused within the family that it would take an eternity to describe them all. I do have some notable one's though: repeatedly guilting people if they don't immediately drop everything to watch her 4 kids, screaming at the top of her lungs/causing a HUGE scene when there was tomatoes on her salad during a birthday party, regular complaining that no one helps her with anything (her apartment, car, and kids have been almost exclusively funded by the rest of the family without any expectation of being paid back), and trash talking her entire family publicly on social media on a regular basis. Not once has anyone ever addressed these things with her, and its continued to escalate over time.
The biggest issue right now is the rift between Margaret and the Stepmom, and how that is affecting the entire family, myself included. Stepmom married into the family about 4 years ago and is one of the kindest people I have ever met- point blank period. Margaret publicly shames her at every family function and seems to specifically reach for the cruelest things you could say/do to someone. Margaret regularly asks Stepmom to babysit, but freaks out when stepmom says "no" to any of her children (Margaret insists that this is 'toxic and abusive parenting') Stepmom cant have children, and Margaret has told her that she's "thankful for this because it was God doing the world a favor". She's told stepmom that she was the reason her cousin k*lled herself. She refuses to acknowledge her as a matriarchal figure and regularly says things like "this is my DADS house, not yours", "Im not your daughter", "you'd never be fit to be a mom" and "IDK why my dad even married you". Margaret has gone as far as to compare stepmom to their Dad's exwife, who stabbed him and ended up in prison. Stepmom has reached out multiple times to try and rectify/make peace with the situation, but Margaret escalates everytime she does. All of this is so absurd for a woman of her age that I cant stand it. I have kept my mouth shut for years at this point out of respect for the "family norms" even through all of this, but last week I decided I'd had enough.
Fern called me in tears to tell me that Margaret had ruined a dinner they went to that night..........again. Margaret has regularly used Fern as an emotional punching bag, and him calling me in tears is a regular occurrence at this point. At dinner, Margaret had called him fat and told him she didn't want her kids around him anymore because "they would think being fat is okay". For context, Fern has struggled with an eating disorder for most of his life.
On the phone call, Fern basically spilled his guts. There's a family vacation to Italy every few years and apparently Stepmom isn't going anymore because of Margaret. Fern also let me know that there has been talk of cutting Margaret out of the family for years, but their Dad hasn't even started the conversation of "this isn't okay" yet, so none of them can say anything. Fern had tried to contact the husband (Cory) to see if there was something going on, but Cory refused to talk. I have always been friendly with Cory- he's a nice guy, and if you can get to him without Margaret in the room, he's actually really full of life and fun- so I called him myself. Cory told me that everyone is being "SO MEAN" to Margaret and she's trying to "break generational cycles" - it sounded like he had a script in front of him the whole time and was almost word for word the same nonsense that Margaret says all the time. Margaret is a victim, everyone else is crazy, no one understands her. etc. etc.
After listening to him for a while, I told him I cared about him but that I was done with Margaret's BS. I blocked their numbers, their social media, and eliminated any other ways they had to contact me. This is a BIG no-no in this family- you don't confront it, you don't say anything, you just sit there and take it. I contacted Fern and stepmom and told them about my decision, and let them know that I wasn't going to show up to anything if Margaret was also going to be there. I told Tom and we had a whole conversation about it. Everyone is telling me they support me in my decision- but they have all also said some variation of "I wish I could do that because I am in the same boat". The subsequent backlash from all of this is that although I am maintaining relationships with the rest of the family, Margaret is even worse at functions now. I don't have to see it, but I hear about it all the time and am starting to wonder if I made the wrong decision. I didn't want to make it worse for anyone, but I just couldn't watch it happen anymore without escalating things, myself. It really was getting to a point where I felt so stifled that I thought I might hit her out of frustration, which is why I chose to back out after all of this. The family still hasn't said anything to her, and my husband told me that "they all have a role to play", but that I also kind of disrespected his dad by saying/doing this.
Am I the jerk?
TLDR; My SIL plays the victim a lot but is actually the aggressor most of the time, and I chose to end all contact which is upsetting the rest of the family.

I have a problem. I am addicted to knowledge. I believed in the myths of the 1989s and 90s. NBC said "The more you know..." One of my former attorneys told me that I am too smart for my own good. How funny is it that the people we give power over us are the ones we need to defend ourselves against. I stayed in a horrible marriage too long. I should have never married him the second time. That being said, I am grateful for the life I lived. The song says "I could have missed the pain, but I'd a had to miss the dance... it's MY life, and it's better left to chance.". I don't believe in chance or fate. I believe that we have a certain measure of control over our lives and we allow others to derail us. What we do about that impact is a choice. I choose to be the captain of my own vessel until the river runs dry. No lawyer, no judge, no man, and no institution will force me to do anything else that is not for my own good or for the good of my family. Everywhere I go, I am turned away. I sat in an ER having a reaction to spider bites. I drove myself to an ER 2 hours from home because the ER here said nothing was wrong. I did call the individual who should have driven me, but he could not leave work he said. Funny how quickly he runs to help a woman he thinks will inherit money some day. When I got to the ER, I could barely breathe and had lost sensation in my hands and arm. I am not a doctor but know the difference between an ant bite and a venomous spider bite. And no, you don't feel a Brown Recluse bite. You will certainly feel a Black Widow bite IF bitten by an adult spider. Spiders are not insects, and if we are going to practice medicine, then we need to learn that yes, there is a difference between a 2, 4, or 6 leg creature and one with 8 or more legs. I was told there are no species of insects in this state that are poisonous. Well venom and poison are not the same thing and arthropods, arachnids, and serpents all have venomous species in this state. But if you really want to be technical about it, yes, there are poisonous insects in this state as well. Certain species of beetles have a coating on their exoskeleton that poison predators that eat them. I should sue that hospital, but when I try to do so, I am told constantly about statute of limitations. Well, that would be correct unless we are discussing a conspiracy. If even one party of a conspiracy is an employee of the business or government involved in the series of crimes which include a cover up of epic proportions, then the statute clock does not begin into the last probable occurrence of the group. Preventing someone from seeking legal counsel is the main reason statute of limitations cease to apply in all jurisdictions. Considering my 5g gateway I hold in my hand is alerting me that my IP address is being traced and altered, I am documenting that the time clock has not started ticking on this knowledge bomb. My confession here is that I have procrastinated in filing paperwork necessary to begin the next phase of my life. I don't intend to procrastinate, but it is something I cannot help. I have attention deficit disorder with hyperdiatractability. Oh yes, I thought you might bring that up. My ex-userband is a master manipulator when it comes to taking genuine disabilities and twisting them to fit his current need. Like using the multiple personality possibility to steal and then say it must have been one of the others living in my head. The truth is that I do have multiple entities dwelling within me. He is no longer living rent free in my head. And he of all people should have known better than to try to hurt me and my family. He knows good and well what I am capable of. Why in the hell would he or any of my close degree relatives even think about throwing me to the wolves? Think about that for a minute. He says I am unstable. He says I am dangerous. He says I am a genius. My doctor has said he fears for the world if I ever have a breakdown. Lol. A weapon of mass destruction? Come on you idiots. I am not a villain. And the AI shit can create crap about Darth Vader being a good guy and laugh all they want. I don't blackmail people or take money in romance schemes. What are you talking about now? I am talking about the tangled web we mortals weave that is host to a very dangerous arachnid. I don't know how to write code or do math. I don't know anything about the occult arts nor do I need to. I believe in one philosophy that you should read about a cave. The allegory in which we wage war with ourselves and have to ultimately decide to be or not to be. So why would anyone who knows me choose to strike against me? That would be me. They did not betray me. I stepped in front of them myself to make myself the target. There's your confession my dears. Clueless? Still don't know what the hell I am talking about? Let me ask you a question about something I observed once. Do you know what a dead ringer is ? How many kids do you see in the yard playing horseshoes or volleyball or hopscotch or anything? How are the enrollment numbers for youth sports in your area? How many 4-H clubs exhibit in your local fair? What is the pH level in the community pool? So if you can't make a profit from it, then it is something that should be eliminated or monetized? Well I guess I am the idiot here. I actually don't think like that. I would rather have a generation of healthy children who learn morals and ethics than to be a billionaire. Ever watched the movie Congo? Yeah, I am that level of crazy. You think I care about the money? I will not hesitate to burn every dollar I could possibly ever own to stop the children from being hurt by us. You want the truth? You can't handle the truth. Because the truth is that I am a good woman who loves very deeply and cares about people regardless of ethnicity or national origin. And that pisses people off like nothing else will. And that is the absolute truth. You didn't earn any right to be born in a free country any more than a child born in the deepest jungles of an unpronounceable country did anything wrong to be porn into starvation. You are no better than that person. So call me what you want to call me. But if I were you, I would not call me at all. Go ahead and tell me more about what I can and cannot do. Because the entire time you are busy searching for the next thing you can find online about me, the less time you are handling your own affairs and that allows the chance for something to invade your life. One. One chance. That's all I needed. Your motion for mercy has been denied. Well thank you for your consideration. Have a good day. Oh, and one more thing, how do you feel about NPR? Are those radio waves still available for broadcast? Or would you like to sell those to private investors as well? One chance. Lord give me one chance for a fair fight. You are not going to get me to do something that gives you the chance to shoot me or arrest me unless you intend to do so in a public place such as the private property you call county land, aka, my front porch. And the next time that happens, please allow me to call my father instead of unlocking my phone to call the ex-husband using my own device that you somehow unlocked using the passcode. And that was the one you actually needed, sir. How ironic that you gave that gateway to the man who broke it beyond repair. You did that. I'm done with money. I'm done with the man. And I am done trying to prove myself. Charge me now with whatever you think you have or make sure everyone connected to your organization ends all active tracking of us. I don't need a phone or any piece of paper to make my case. That's where you and whomever snatches my device to transfer shit doesn't understand. Yahoo! Yippee kai yah mother fuckers. Pass it on around. You want to go one more round? Or do you want to run? I'm not using Google on my train. I'm on my bridge. I'm using free tokens. I'm not doing anything more than playing a game using cartoon characters. And those Xs are beacons using analytics for the trackers to pinpoint the ones who joined the conspiracy against us. Just because you logged me out and changed my information to your information doesn't work. I asked you to give it back. You ignored me. Fine. Keep it. You want to be famous and rich beyond your wildest dreams? Be my guest, but don't say I didn't warn you what would happen. I can't stop it. I didn't start it. Rufus=the time traveler with a phone booth. James=King James. Travis=country music singer. Don=American Pie. Jerry=Maguire. Tom=Hanks. Bridge=the bifrost. And you can waste your time trying to figure it out but you will never do so. Because there is no "it ". Lmao. Hell yeah. The multiverse is full on all servers. Damn. Looks like I'm not as crazy as you made me out to be. All freaking servers on the Dark Web that bridges the US and Japan are full. Not one vacancy to let me play my game. Wow. I wonder how many of these players are from within the same state as me. Why do so many of you keep running up to St. Louis? That's not the geoblock zone anymore. You better get outside the continental US and any outlying territories if you want to be on the real web. The former president said it would crash harder than it did in 1929 if he was not elected. Wtf is that supposed to mean? Damn let me get a history book and look that up. Maybe it hasn't changed yet. But let me warn you about time travel. If anyone ever tells you to write an email to yourself in the future, call Interpol and file a report. That's a violation of international law. And it will get you on the list even if it is an assignment. Bet I don't do that again. Gee, Roger. You made me an international fugitive for that assignment. Wish I knew who to call for help on that one. Damn. Never trust anyone who is so well organized to guide your future. You never know what to expect from the shock waves. I opened the damn email on June 3, 2020. The day I died. How ironic. I wonder what would have happened if I had not received that email. Scary. But back to the spider bites...I didn't get help from that ER either. I ended up buying a knife and an onion. Actually I ordered Arby's, used the onion off my sandwich, and the knife to open my horsey sauce. I put the onion on my hand, wrapped it using the plastic from the knife, and several days later, the venom had drained from my hand enough that the swelling in my feet was going down and my blood pressure was returning to normal. Baby black widows don't have the kick mama does, but they are 1,000 times more deadly because they don't know how much of their spit to stick in you. And your earlobe and nostril don't have a pulse in them, by the way. So keep on bullshitting with the fake crap. If you have insurance for something highly unlikely to occur prior to the occurrence, doesn't that mean that you have a sixth sense and can predict the volcanic eruption that spewed counterfeit currency all over the state without a volcano? 💩♾️😱 Damn girl, just shut up and let them have it. I tried that. They keep trying to send it back to me when they can't make it work. It is never going to work again because you idiots changed everything so much that it can't be fixed. And that is all I am going to say about it ever because you don't want help. You want someone to do it for you so you can blame that person when it fails and cut them out when it succeeds. No. There's no solution. I'm not sure if you even know there's a problem. You will. But don't ask anyone for help when you do figure out how bad things already are. I am disinclined to aquiese to your request on grounds of I don't give a damn. Haha. What else do you want me to confess to for you to add to that admission you started in 2020? That's so funny that I forgot to laugh. I wonder how bullshit sounds in Morse code pinging on nft relays from me to you. Oh yeah. Well here's your tip for the day, big guy. You are not a good person. You are a bully. And some day, someone will knock you off that horse and when you land in shit just like me, I hope someone hands you hand sanitizer and a baby wipe. 😘

Venus jolted awake. Disoriented, she blinked at the sunlight filtering through the blinds, revealing the empty box of chocolate sprawled beside her in bed, like a sinful lover.
“Oh, God!” she groaned as she put her head in her hands.
The cell phone’s ring made her jolt again. Glancing at the screen, she saw Aiden’s name on the caller ID.
"Good morning, my love!" she answered, forcing a brightness into her voice.
"Happy birthday, beautiful! Sorry, I’m not there to celebrate with you today,” Aiden's voice, warm and familiar, crackled through the receiver. “Celebratory dinner when I get back on Friday?"
"Sounds perfect."
“Hey, did you get the chocolate and flowers I sent you?”
“Yes! Oh my God, the bouquet is gorgeous....and all peonies...my favorite.”
“How about the chocolate? Did you try any of them?”
Venus looked at the sad empty box and started putting the stray chocolate wrappers into it.
“I got the box. It looks so fancy, but I haven’t opened it yet.”
“I ordered them from this artsy chocolatier that has unusual flavors like saffron and rose water. I think you’ll like them.”
Venus got out of bed, carrying the box.
“Yum, can’t wait to try them. You’re so thoughtful.”
“It takes one to know one. Okay, gotta run. Have a meeting in a few. See you Friday. Love you.”
“Love you too. Bye.”
Hanging up, Venus surveyed the bed and floor to make sure there were no empty wrappers left behind.
Then, quickly, she headed to the kitchen and grabbed a large recycling bag.
She dumped the chocolate box in it and walked towards the trash can which was overflowing with all kinds of candy, cookie, and cake wrappers. She dumped those in the recycling bag as well and secured it with two fierce knots.
She scanned the kitchen, making sure she had not left any evidence behind.
Nothing.
She let out a sigh and said, “Siri, play Vivaldi.”
Classical music was her constant refuge. She would let it linger in the air and wash over her nerves.
As she listened to 'La Primavera' and relaxed, her gaze drifted to her favorite painting on the dining room wall. Sandro Botticelli’s "Birth of Venus".
The painting was supposed to be more meaningful that day. A congratulatory reminder of her existence from the goddess she was named after. Instead, she felt the goddess was mocking her for the shameful night before.
She escaped to the dressing room to change. Only to find her self-scrutiny intensified within its mirrored walls that reflected with brutal honesty.
Apparent were a subtle swell of her stomach, and a telltale puffiness around her eyes. She turned, observing her thighs. At least no changes there.
She could still fit into her clothes. Of course, she could. But what would she wear? What does one wear on her special day, she wondered.
She looked at her favorite dresses, and then, as if the day hadn’t started dramatically enough, she remembered. She couldn’t wear any of her dresses. Absolutely not.
Today was the day of her interview at Bayside Hospital. The place where she'd envisioned herself working ever since she was a teenager; her dream job.
She looked at her watch. Eight twenty-nine. Her heart sank. The interview was at nine.
No time for self-pity. Every second counted.
She looked at her formal wardrobe. Silk blouses peeked from their designated shelves. Their delicate fabrics and understated patterns hinted at a quiet femininity beneath the professional facade.
But Venus had no time to ponder. She picked out a navy skirt and dark blue blouse. She had never thrown an outfit together this fast.
She ran to the bathroom. Her hair, usually styled in elegant waves, was yanked back into a messy bun secured with the first pin she could find.
A glance in the mirror confirmed the precarious state of her hair bun, but there was no time for adjustments.
She picked up her purse and shoved her feet into the closest pair of flats.
As she raced to the door, she remembered makeup. Oh well, this was an interview for a nutritionist, not a runway model, she told herself.
But there was one thing she could not forget. Getting rid of the recycling bag. That was a must. So that she could forget all about last night.
With a final yank on the door, Venus headed out, carrying the large recycling bag like a chubby baby.
At the apartment building's communal recycling area, she cast a furtive glance around, then dumped the bag in the bin and slammed the lid shut.
A feeling of relief washed over her. Now she could concentrate on what mattered.
She envisioned herself at the interview, as a picture of calm competence. She got this. After all, no one deserved the Senior Nutritionist position at Bayside more than her.
A bachelor's degree in biochemistry and a master's degree in food nutrition, both from an Ivy League school and top of her class - this was just the foundation. She also had a decade of clinical research experience and stellar recommendations from respected colleagues.
Maybe landing this job on her birthday was meant to be. The stars were aligned and ready to grant her heart's desire, she thought.
Suddenly, a vision of Botticelli’s Venus flickered in her mind. "Think you’ll be the Senior Nutritionist at Bayside? Think again. You're a fraud! A shimmering facade masking a mess. This dream will turn to dust in your hands, just like the cookies I watched you consume last night."
Goddess Venus was right. Human Venus was an imposter. A nutritionist with a secret sugar addiction and major binge disorder. A secret that she had kept from everyone, including her beloved husband.
No one knew that she craved and consumed the very foods she told others were detrimental to their health. Frosting-laden cakes, creamy dreamy shakes, and brightly colored candies that she had learned, through biochemistry courses, were almost toxic for human consumption.
Her confidence faltered as the weight of her secret pressed down on her. The steps that moments ago seemed light and purposeful now felt heavy, each one a reminder of the lie she was living.
But slowing down wasn't an option. She was already running late.
What she needed now was a release from the suffocating guilt and shame. To numb herself, to become emotionally empty. Yes, EMPTY…. like the box of chocolate she woke up next to.

Hello reddit! Havent really posted on here before but I find myself in need of some advice. This might be a bit of a long one but I feel like theres a lot of context I need to cover. If anybody bothers to read all of this, some insight would be very insightful because I want to make sure that my personal bias isn’t affecting my thoughts on the matter.
I (25M) met my best friend Jeff (20M) about two years ago. We are coworkers. As soon as we started working together we clicked instantly, and immediately became super close friends. He doesn’t have any other super close friends to talk about his feelings with and I dont have any close meaningful male friendships either, so we grew very close and are a support system to each other. In January of 2023 Jeff had asked me if I’d want to move in with him and his girlfriend in about a year, after about 4 months of us being friends. Both him and her wanted to get out of their parents houses, and wanted to find another roommate to help with rent. I’m trapped at my parents house without making enough money on my own to move out, and dont see myself in a relationship anytime soon to have a partner to help with rent, so this seemed like a great opportunity for us both to help each other out.
His girlfriend, Fiona (20F), is where the problems start to lie. In our two year friendship I have clocked many red flags about her and have grown to really not like her and the way she treats him, and other people. The first I heard about her was in the beginning of our friendship when he asked my advice about a situation he was in. He said he felt stuck in the middle bc his family was pissed at her bc she didn’t get him a gift for his birthday. I asked him if HE was upset about that and he said that he was not, and I told him not to stress about it, bc his feelings on it are the most important thing. The first time I met her we had all went to a movie together. By the movie theater there was a pricy gourmet cookie shop and she had the idea for us all to get cookies and take them into the movie. We all were down, so we went to the shop. Jeff decided to wait in the car while Fiona and I went in. It wound up being cheaper for us to get a four pack rather than each getting our own so we decided to do that, being cordial I let her pick out all of the cookies. When we got to the register to pay she looked over to me for me to pay. I did, kind of assuming that since they were all of ours they would each gave me some money towards it. They did not offer, and I did not ask and thats on me. Then when I dropped her off she requested to take all the leftovers from the cookies home with her and she did. I wasn’t really upset about it but I did think it was a little bit weird, but chocked it up to the awkwardness of meeting new people for the first time, and miscommunication. The next time I met her, the three of us went to the mall together. First she brought us to a piercing shop and showed him the piercing she wanted to get, and told him the price and started asking if she can get it (assuming he’s paying). Jeff really doesn’t make too much money at our job knowing what I make and that he makes less than me. He asked if they could do it next week when he gets paid and she got upset at him and they fought about it. During the same mall trip she brought us into another store she wanted to browse around in and found a dress and bracelet she wanted. She gets to the register to pay and Jeff and I were standing off to the side waiting for her to finish. She hands the cashier the bracelet (the cheaper item) and then without saying anything just turns around and hands Jeff the dress (the more expensive one) expecting him to buy it for her. He did and he looked sad, it really made me upset. There have been many other times where I’ll ask him if he wants to get dinner or something and he’ll tell me he doesn’t have any money this week bc “Fiona wanted to get her nails done” or “Fiona wants to dye her hair”, and he just pays for ALL of it.
We wound up having a conversation about this where I expressed my concern for him and he told me that I “didn’t understand bc I’m single.” I told him no, spoiling your partner can be great if thats what YOU want to do, but its not right for it to be the constant expectation. He told me that “I just dont understand bc I’m gay, and that thats just what having girlfriend is like.” I reiterated that its really not normal and we kind of dropped the conversation. This talk of “thats just what having a girlfriend is” was extremely worrying to me, bc they have been together since they were 14, and this relationship is all he’s ever known.
At another point he expressed to me really not liking being at home bc of the issues between her and his family. I asked about their issues and he said that they really dont get along and he’s always caught in the middle of them. I asked what they have issues about and he said she gets VERY upset that his family refers to her as “Jeff’s girlfriend” when in her eyes she “sees herself as so much more than that”. I asked if they had other issues and that was the only issue he said they have. I told him that that was a non-issue, as she is, in fact at this point in time, his girlfriend. He said he knows. This to me wreaks of the classic abuse of trying to isolate him from his family for no reason. She doesn’t like him having outside forces pointing out the ways she takes advantage of him. Like with the first issue of her not getting him a birthday gift, and his family telling him that was wrong, obviously before I had more context I was on his side, but now knowing what I know I 100% agree with his family.
Sometime in early 2023 she had to move out of her parents house earlier than our plan for the three of us to move out together. And Jeff helped her out and set her up to move in with some extended family of his. After she moves in there, Jeff told me that she wasn’t planning on moving out with us anymore and was going to stay there, but him and I would still get an apartment together. I was obviously very okay with this change of plans. While she was living here she would constantly ask him to sleepover but he really didn’t like spending the night there as it made him uncomfortable, being in his extended families house sleeping in her bed, as they’re very christian. He also just preferred being in his own house and sleeping in his own bed. The problem was, every time he would say no to sleeping over she would blow up at him and start a huge fight that would make him feel like shit until he would eventually just go sleepover to appease her. He at one point expressed to her that sleeping over there made him uncomfortable and why, and told her that he couldn’t deal with her blowing up at him for not sleeping over constantly. He compromised and told her he’d stay over one consistant day a week so she can stop asking and getting upset when he says no. He slept there every week on their day like he said, but this didn’t stop her from continuing ask on the other days of the week and still being upset when told no. An example of him trying to set a boundary, and her just trampling all over it.
One night in November of 2023 he calls me in tears at 2am. He was upset bc he felt so stuck in the middle between what she wanted and what his family wanted. She apparently had asked him to move in with her, but his family was telling him he should stay with them and save up his money, bc they thought that made the most sense for him. He felt caught in the middle bc he couldn’t please both her and his family. He asked me what I thought he should do, and I told him that that really didn’t matter and neither does what his family wants or what his gf wants, all that matters is what HE wants. Does he want to move in there? He told me, no. He agreed with his family’s points of it being smarter for him to just save up money and live at home for the time being while still trying to get his drivers license (him and his gf both do not drive). I told him that I agreed and also thought that was the best idea for him. Especially bc once paying rent, it would be much harder for him to eventually be able to afford a car. Not to mention we still had our plan to move out together the next summer. He wound up getting very heated during our conversation and saying things like how he didn’t want to move in there and he didn’t even care if they wind up breaking up over it. He told her he didn’t want to move in there and she blew up at him and ignored him for the rest of the night. She continued ignoring him into the next day, and he was a mess. Once she started talking to him again he told me he was going over to her place later that night that talk about everything.
After their conversation he calls me to tell me how it went and he starts with “so I’m moving in”. I was taken aback after our conversation the previous night and he told me that she “made him realize how many issues there are in their relationship that he needs to work on, and she thinks him moving in with her is the best way.” I said “and theres things SHE needs to work on too, right?” And he hesitated for a bit before saying “… yeah”. Which made me think it really wasn’t discussed. Him being so adamant about not wanting to move in with her the night before, and then he sees her in person and is immediately convinced to move in there and all of their problems are his fault, really made me feel sick. Not to mention, that this completely trampled over his and I’s plan to move out together and now that would not be happening. He’s apologized to me a lot for that, and I’ve forgiven him and moved on, even tho letting go of the idea of our apartment together which seemed so fun hurt a lot.
Their living situation changed again recently and they moved out of the extended families house and into a new apartment together, greatly increasing their cost of living. I’m concerned for him financially as I know the rent alone is slightly more money than he makes a month from our job. I’m not sure how evenly they’re splitting the cost of living, however even in this new situation she continues to expect him to get her nails done every paycheck and all of her usual “buy me everything I want or I’m going to blow up at you”. I know he’s using his savings to give her what she wants. She’ll frequently call him at work. Like A LOT. Usually about 5 times in an 8 hour shift. And most of these phone calls are just him apologizing profusely for god knows what. And on one of these phone calls I did hear him say that he “could pull from savings to get that for her”.
There are many more examples of ways I see her use and take advantage of him. As well as put him in unsafe situations, but this post is already waaaay too long, and I feel like I’ve provided enough insight into their relationship. I will try to be active in the comments if anybody asks for more context.
If anyone read all of this, thank you! I would really appreciate some advice of what to do in a situation like this. I’ve never not liked a friends partner before. I’ve not said anything exclusively like “I dont like your gf and heres why” but I’ve made comments about things shes does not being right to try to get him to see what I see but I just dont think he gets it. On one hand I feel like I’m being a bad friend to Jeff for letting her abuse him like this, but on the other I’m scared to upset him if I bring it up. I’m terrified of losing or ruining our friendship over this bc he is extremely important to me, and I’m just scared to bring it up especially bc of how much longer he’s known her than me (6 years vs 2). Any advice is extremely appreciated.

Venus jolted awake. Disoriented, she blinked at the sunlight filtering through the blinds, revealing the empty box of chocolate sprawled beside her in bed, like a sinful lover.
“Oh, God!” she groaned as she put her head in her hands.
The cell phone’s ring made her jolt again. Glancing at the screen, she saw Aiden’s name on the caller ID.
"Good morning, my love!" she answered, forcing a brightness into her voice.
"Happy birthday, beautiful! Sorry, I’m not there to celebrate with you today,” Aiden's voice, warm and familiar, crackled through the receiver. “Celebratory dinner when I get back on Friday?"
"Sounds perfect."
“Hey, did you get the chocolate and flowers I sent you?”
“Yes! Oh my God, the bouquet is gorgeous....and all peonies...my favorite.”
“How about the chocolate? Did you try any of them?”
Venus looked at the sad empty box and started putting the stray chocolate wrappers into it.
“I got the box. It looks so fancy, but I haven’t opened it yet.”
“I ordered them from this artsy chocolatier that has unusual flavors like saffron and rose water. I think you’ll like them.”
Venus got out of bed, carrying the box.
“Yum, can’t wait to try them. You’re so thoughtful.”
“It takes one to know one. Okay, gotta run. Have a meeting in a few. See you Friday. Love you.”
“Love you too. Bye.”
Hanging up, Venus surveyed the bed and floor to make sure there were no empty wrappers left behind.
Then, quickly, she headed to the kitchen and grabbed a large recycling bag.
She dumped the chocolate box in it and walked towards the trash can which was overflowing with all kinds of candy, cookie, and cake wrappers. She dumped those in the recycling bag as well and secured it with two fierce knots.
She scanned the kitchen, making sure she had not left any evidence behind.
Nothing.
She let out a sigh and said, “Siri, play Vivaldi.”
Classical music was her constant refuge. She would let it linger in the air and wash over her nerves.
As she listened to 'La Primavera' and relaxed, her gaze drifted to her favorite painting on the dining room wall. Sandro Botticelli’s "Birth of Venus".
The painting was supposed to be more meaningful that day. A congratulatory reminder of her existence from the goddess she was named after. Instead, she felt the goddess was mocking her for the shameful night before.
She escaped to the dressing room to change. Only to find her self-scrutiny intensified within its mirrored walls that reflected with brutal honesty.
Apparent were a subtle swell of her stomach, and a telltale puffiness around her eyes. She turned, observing her thighs. At least no changes there.
She could still fit into her clothes. Of course, she could. But what would she wear? What does one wear on her special day, she wondered.
She looked at her favorite dresses, and then, as if the day hadn’t started dramatically enough, she remembered. She couldn’t wear any of her dresses. Absolutely not.
Today was the day of her interview at Bayside Hospital. The place where she'd envisioned herself working ever since she was a teenager; her dream job.
She looked at her watch. Eight twenty-nine. Her heart sank. The interview was at nine.
No time for self-pity. Every second counted.
She looked at her formal wardrobe. Silk blouses peeked from their designated shelves. Their delicate fabrics and understated patterns hinted at a quiet femininity beneath the professional facade.
Rows of gleaming pumps, in classic black and pops of unexpected color, stood poised on a lower shelf, ready to conquer any meeting or conference room.
A single impeccably tailored blazer hung center stage, its sharp lines a testament to quiet authority.
But Venus had no time to ponder. She picked out a navy skirt and dark blue blouse. She had never thrown an outfit together this fast.
She ran to the bathroom. Her hair, usually styled in elegant waves, was yanked back into a messy bun secured with the first pin she could find.
A glance in the mirror confirmed the precarious state of her hair bun, but there was no time for adjustments.
She picked up her purse and shoved her feet into the closest pair of flats.
As she raced to the door, she remembered makeup. Oh well, this was an interview for a nutritionist, not a runway model, she told herself.
But there was one thing she could not forget. Getting rid of the recycling bag. That was a must. So that she could forget all about last night.
With a final yank on the door, Venus headed out, carrying the large recycling bag like a chubby baby.
At the apartment building's communal recycling area, she cast a furtive glance around, then dumped the bag in the bin and slammed the lid shut.
A feeling of relief washed over her. Now she could concentrate on what mattered.
She envisioned herself at the interview, as a picture of calm competence. She got this. After all, no one deserved the Senior Nutritionist position at Bayside more than her.
A bachelor's degree in biochemistry and a master's degree in food nutrition, both from an Ivy League school and top of her class - this was just the foundation. She also had a decade of clinical research experience and stellar recommendations from respected colleagues.
Maybe landing this job on her birthday was meant to be. The stars were aligned and ready to grant her heart's desire, she thought.
Suddenly, a vision of Botticelli’s Venus flickered in her mind. "Think you’ll be the Senior Nutritionist at Bayside? Think again. You're a fraud! A shimmering facade masking a mess. This dream will turn to dust in your hands, just like the cookies I watched you consume last night."
Goddess Venus was right. Human Venus was an imposter. A nutritionist with a secret sugar addiction and major binge disorder. A secret that she had kept from everyone, including her beloved husband.
No one knew that she craved and consumed the very foods she told others were detrimental to their health. Frosting-laden cakes, creamy dreamy shakes, and brightly colored candies that she had learned, through biochemistry courses, were almost toxic for human consumption.
Her confidence faltered as the weight of her secret pressed down on her. The steps that moments ago seemed light and purposeful now felt heavy, each one a reminder of the lie she was living.
But slowing down wasn't an option. She was already running late.
What she needed now was a release from the suffocating guilt and shame. To numb herself, to become emotionally empty. Yes, EMPTY…. like the box of chocolate she woke up next to.

• How old are you? What's your gender? Give us a general description of yourself.
I’m a 19 yo female. I’m an architecture student, married. I usually enjoy nature and my biggest aspiration is to move to a quiet country away from the cities. I enjoy drawing and listening to music as well as playing instruments. I’m an introvert with a lot of anxiety. I’m a pretty quiet person and it takes me time to open myself to others, specially strangers.
• Is there a medical diagnosis that may impact your mental stability somehow?
I’ve been diagnosed with depression and anxiety.
• Describe your upbringing. Did it have any kind of religious or structured influence? How did you respond to it?
As I child I was forced into religion but as soon as I could I got away from it. I grew up witnessing domestic violence and alcohol abuse so now I despise alcohol and try to avoid as much trouble as possible.
• What do you do as a job or as a career (if you have one)? Do you like it? Why or why not?
I’m currently studying architecture, a kind of difficult career when I lack motivation or creativity. I would say I like the career in general but at times it becomes a burden. I am very into design so that’s why architecture was one of my options but originally I wanted to study animation or industrial design, I still enjoy my major though.
• If you had to spend an entire weekend by yourself, how would you feel? Would you feel lonely or refreshed?
I’m a very independent person, most of my life I’ve been alone and I enjoy being alone. So I’d say it would feel refreshing. Except I would miss my husband.
• What kinds of activities do you prefer? Do you like, and are you good at sports? Do you enjoy any other outdoor or indoor activities?
I enjoy indoor activities as much as outside activities. As said before, I enjoy playing instruments and painting. I used to love basketball but with time I don’t do it anymore. I enjoy peaceful walks and something that involves nature.
• How curious are you? Do you have mor e ideas then you can execute? What are your curiosities about? What are your ideas about - is it environmental or conceptual, and can you please elaborate?
I used to be very curious about topics I would see in the internet or at school. I love to research stuff that I find interesting which most has to do with space and humans themselves, but lately I haven’t had the time or motivation to do it. I wouldn’t say I execute a lot of ideas, the ones I have usually have to do with art, nothing environmental.
• Would you enjoy taking on a leadership position? Do you think you would be good at it? What would your leadership style be?
I like being the leader of a work group since I’m very good at organizing and gathering information, I also enjoy planning presentations and such. However, I don’t like being the center of attention so I don’t try to be the leader now. I think I would be good in a leadership role since I can build a working structure in the team, and since I like independence, I would just divide the work and put it all together once everyone’s finished.
• Are you coordinated? Why do you feel as if you are or are not? Do you enjoy working with your hands in some form? Describe your activity?
I would say I am pretty coordinated, I’ve been doing actives such as playing instruments that require coordination, building 3D models, and played sports throughout my life.
• Are you artistic? If yes, describe your art? If you are not particular artistic but can appreciate art please likewise describe what forums of art you enjoy. Please explain your answer.
I like painting with different materials and most of my art focuses on humans. My art is not very colorful, it is more dark and quiet. I also enjoy making music.
• What's your opinion about the past, present, and future? How do you deal with them?
The past doesn’t matter anymore since it’s something we can’t change. I don’t worry about the future because it would bring stress to think about all the possibilities which might not even occur. It is good to focus on the present and better ourselves while we have the opportunity to do so.
• How do you act when others request your help to do something (anything)? If you would decide to help them, why would you do so?
It really depends on the person and the activity. I try to offer my help most of the time because I like to help, but if I’m busy or tired I would think twice. However, sometimes my social anxiety doesn’t let me help no matter how hard I want to do it, I just can’t move or talk.
• Do you need logical consistency in your life?
Yes.
• How important is efficiency and productivity to you?
Very important, I think that’s one of the best ways to accomplish things.
• Do you control others, even if indirectly? How and why do you do that?
I do when I know more than the person and if they ask for help, I would just tell them what they do to accomplish the activity.
• What are your hobbies? Why do you like them?
Painting, reading, writing, and playing instruments. I like them because they bring me peace and I can enjoy time by myself.
• What is your learning style? What kind of learning environments do you struggle with most? Why do you like/struggle with these learning styles? Do you prefer classes involving memorization, logic, creativity, or your physical senses?
I learn the most via visual and auditive, I can learn pretty much on every environment except if my phone is near me. Out of all the examples provided, I’d say I like classes involving most of them but memorization. I usually have a hard time remembering things.
• How good are you at strategizing? Do you easily break up projects into manageable tasks? Or do you have a tendency to wing projects and improvise as you go?
I improve as I go, I don’t do organization anymore because I figured I am capable of completing the task without wasting time on creating an outline.
• What are your aspirations in life, professionally and personally?
I just want to get my degree and move to a different country to leave in peace and have a modest life with my husband.
• What are your fears? What makes you uncomfortable? What do you hate? Why?
I’m scared of economy and safety. Nowadays it is difficult to find a good job that will provide for basic necessities, and crime is everywhere, each day more pronounced. I hate alcohol, dishonesty, and disrespect; I hate those things because I grew up witnessing what they can do to a family and an individual, very disgusting things.
• What do the "highs" in your life look like?
Happiness, lots of money, a forever with my husband.
• What do the "lows" in your life look like?
Homelessness, or being a victim of a serial killer.
• How attached are you to reality? Do you daydream often, or do you pay attention to what's around you? If you do daydream, are you aware of your surroundings while you do so?
I daydream a lot, but I’d say I stay alert to my surroundings. Sometimes, I lose myself in my mind.
• Imagine you are alone in a blank, empty room. There is nothing for you to do and no one to talk to. What do you think about?
I think about how the heck I ended up there and how to get out.
• How long do you take to make an important decision? And do you change your mind once you've made it?
Usually hours, I’ve regretted my decision a couple times but I don’t lose my head over it.
• How long do you take to process your emotions? How important are emotions in your life?
I feel very strong emotions and they are important to me, but not more than logic is, I take a couple minutes, maybe hours to process my emotions.
• Do you ever catch yourself agreeing with others just to appease them and keep the conversation going? How often? Why?
Nope. There could be a great conversation if we disagree on something. I don’t like to fake, or be dishonest.
• Do you break rules often? Do you think authority should be challenged, or that they know better? If you do break rules, why?
I mean rules are there for a reason, but if that reason is dumb, I won’t hesitate to break them.

Cross-posted from AOAIBetrayeds. AOAIBetrayeds is an online peer support group and safe space reserved for betrayed individuals who are considering, actively attempting to, or have reconciled after infidelity. If you feel you would benefit from a more private supportive sub for only betrayed people, message the mods at AOAIBetrayeds or send me a DM.
It's been 2 months since I posted an update so I think it is time.
Context: Me: 59m. Her: 55f. Married 33 years, together 36. WW had a full on EA bookended with multiple sexual PA's (1 in Dec, 2022 and 3 in Sept, 2023 (last 2 on Dday). She then pretended to go NC with AP for an additional 5 months which created Dday #2 in February. Read my story and updates using my profile for posts if you want to see background.
https://www.reddit.com/useDiscardbobulated/submitted/
NO ADVICE PLEASE: Just like last time I posted, and the time before that, I am processing all of this stuff, and working with my therapist and my support group closely, so I will ask for advice only when I think I need it and when I think I am ready to receive it. Right now, I just thought I’d post an update for those who might be following along or anyone for whom my story resonates. I hope you’re OK.
I can use reassurance. I have asked for no advice because I am all full-up with advice that I am taking and utilizing. More and/or different advice will potentially muddy my process and have my approach blurred. Reassurance though? Bring it on. We all need it. Sometimes directly and sometimes just by being here and reading the stories of others. Reassure me.
As many of you know, I was dealt a huge blow the day after Valentine’s Day. That’s 3 months ago today for those of you keeping track. My wife, with whom I was 5.5 months into ‘reconciliation’ with, came clean and told me that she was still in contact with her AP for the entirety of that span of time.
The revelation of The Big Lie as I refer to it now, even with my wife, was in incredibly damaging hit to the idea of reconciliation. It was as shattering, if not MORE shattering as the original affair revelation. Big lies, little lies, untruths, the masking of truth, the omission of truth…all are devastating to the traumatized betrayed. If you know anything of the effects of trauma (as most of you do I am sure), you know that each lie usually triggers a trauma response, and each trauma response piles into a vast storage area in your brain where it pools and stays ready to fuck you up every time it’s poked. And mine was poked A LOT in the last 3 months. A LOT.
I started the ‘last 3 months’ phase of this journey with this huge setback that was The Big Lie. It reset our progress to zero in some cases. If you look at some things, like my ability to control the PTSD events, then that progress was still in effect. (I was still able to recognize the PTSD event coming on and sometimes get control of it before spiraling out of control). If you look at the timeline of physical sexual events, that didn’t change. If you take into account all the books and articles read, all the podcasts and audiobooks listened to, and all the hours spend by me in IC, then then those items were (mostly) still intact.
But you know what was now absolutely fucking GONE?
~T R U S T~
I had spent that first 5.5 months learning to trust again as we were working our way through reconciliation. You can look back at my post history prior to February, 2024 and see a solid progression of trust being built, of confidence being regained, and of affection, sexuality, appreciation, and friendship being rebuilt.
ALL of that was 100% GONE in ONE moment. GONE.
LIES are destructive. Secondary Dday lies like this one are DEEPLY destructive.
Trust is often cited as the most important ingredient in a personal relationship. How can we even begin to consider something as gigantic as a marriage reconciliation when trust has been completely blown up? I don’t have an answer to that. I am looking for it.
You know what was also lost at the point of the revelation of The Big Lie?
Hope. Optimism. Self-esteem. Admiration. Lust. Attraction. Affection. All gone.
My feelings of these things were returning in slivers over those 5.5 months after Dday and now they were just GONE.
Replacing these feelings were different feelings I had. Now I was feeling: Helpless. Worthless. Inadequate. Unloved. Betrayed. Devastated. Like a Chump. Belittled. Emasculated. Unworthy. Ugly. Undesirable …and incredibly MANIPULATED.
She had spent this time manipulating me into complacency while she continued to carry on her affair in the form of regular communication with ‘her friend’ AP. They talked on the phone regularly, texted regularly. All the while she was putting forth what I THOUGHT was EFFORT into our reconciliation, but was really just a collection of actions that were meant to placate me.
The Fake R time, as I now know it, included: I love you’s. Hand holding. Sex. Apologies. Forward thinking. Plans. I was feeling like PROGRESS was happening. I was still experiencing the PTSD events. Still having times when I would lash out in anger at her for what she had done, but those awful things were decreasing in intensity and frequency and I was thankful for that.
I was able to see what reconciliation looks like.
Only I wasn’t. It was all a sham. Now that she is not in contact with him (I hope and believe), she has stopped the hand holding (mostly). Not one ‘I love you’ in the past 3 months. The hugs I used to get now feel like the hugs you’d give a kid with a scraped knee. The feeling of being wanted and being on a path to something better has been obliterated. And sex? 2-3 times a week during the Fake R has become 1 time in the last 3 months.
So now, after the revelation of The Big Lie I am left with a VERY odd feeling. A feeling like what I WANT BACK is the pre-Big-Lie actions. The ‘I Love You’s’, the hand holding, the sex…
But since I now know these as things that were done to manipulate me, I really DON’T want them back. What I want is something that I have not yet seen: An honest reconciliation and the actions that come with that. And now that my mind has suffered the mind-fuck rollercoaster of the last 8 months, I don’t even know what honest reconciliation looks like. My perception is fucked up. I no longer can think accurately about this stuff because of the gaslighting. It’s hard to even describe the feeling of disconnection with my own reality.
A METAMORPHOSIS The changes in how she was treating me now that she no longer has AP in her back pocket as a ‘friend’ to talk to are stark. She has expressed that the sex was just to placate me. That she can’t feel good about US anymore because she doesn’t have knowledge of how HE is doing anymore. She cannot “live her good life” with me because she doesn’t know if HE is able to “have a good life”. She is NO CONTACT with him, but clearly some of her still has a connection to him. That hurts.
During these last 3 months I have gone from non-functioning to confused to (almost) accepting. Along the way I have passed ANGRY, DEVASTATED, DEFEATED, and a hundred other negative emotions.
I also spent nearly all of my time doing what ALL us betrayeds do. I tried to get her to UNDERSTAND MY PAIN. I wanted her to really know what she has done to me. Not just what she did with the affair, but with the aftermath of the affair and the 5.5 months that I was trying to regain trust in her and she was faking R with me so that she could continue her EA with HIM. I was CONSTANTLY wanting her to HURT because I thought that if she could HURT like I HURT then she could understand my pain and come to really know what it is she has done. And if she could get to THAT place, then surely she would finally find the shame and guilt that I think she deserves to bear.
The problem is that even with all my effort to explain to her in words, in mental breakdowns, in PTSD trauma events, in triggers, sadness, crying and constant malaise, nothing was changing.
She wasn’t displaying any of the remorse, guilt and shame that I want from her. She wasn’t giving me any of the actions or words she was giving me during Fake R. She wasn’t holding my hand. She wasn’t saying I love you. She wasn’t touching me or having sex with me. She was just enduring my wrath.
During the last time that I sat with her and had a Q&A about how she could do this and all the same questions that I have asked before and my saying again how hurt I was and how it was ALL HER FAULT and how I thought she should feel SHAME I ended up feeling a little tranquil. I felt like maybe I had told her enough times. I didn’t know if she fully understood like I wanted her to but I thought that we were at a place where MORE of this was going to do NOTHING. After all, almost 3 months of it hadn’t YET produced anything, why would MORE have any potential for positive progress.
So I had a thought. What if I just treated her nicely? What if I stopped with the finger wagging and the name calling and the ‘why me’s’ and the angry lashing out. What if I instead tried to hold HER hand occasionally? What if I just WASN’T adversarial? Could that help? Could that get her to see me differently? Could that get ME to see me differently? Could that reset my mind and get me out of the victim moment and into some undefined type of recovery?
I wondered to myself if I had it in myself to let those things go. I wondered if I was CAPABLE of not being so fucking angry at her for what she had done. I mean, we both are clearly aware of what she has done and what it has caused in me, so I don’t have to restate that over and over and over again, DO I?
I took this question with me to IC.
IC reframed it in a way that resonated with me somehow. She said: “Look, you’ve spent a lot of time ‘spinning’, trying to make heads or tails of your predicament. Trying to get her to love you again. Trying to find connection with her. Why? Because you love her. Isn’t that the entire point? If you want to reconcile with her the end goal is for you to love one another again because you love her, right?” She said: “Why don’t you try showing her your true self? The self that loves her. The self that wants reconciliation because you love her. Maybe start with small things? Don’t go crazy and drive yourself nuts with a huge reversal from anger and hurt to loving and wonderful. Instead just don’t hurl negativity all the time. Relax instead. Act like reconciliation is under way in order to see if that action can initiate a real reaction.”
In other words, release the Restraining Bolt that keeps you in the stew of anger and contempt and head off to find a crazy old wizard and your path to freedom from the tyranny of self-pity.
Interesting.
This made SOME sense to me, and partly made sense to me because of the way I was FEELING. It would NOT have made sense to me 2 months ago, or even a week ago. It makes sense to me because of where I am NOW. A shift in gears from the anger and hatred to something more nurturing. Not a full tack. More of a subtle lane change. (sorry to mix my motoring and sailing metaphors).
So this is where I am now. I made the decision in my head to move over into this other lane. I did this less than 36 hours ago. I have not yet determined if this has been beneficial or not. I feel anxious. Of course I didn’t NOT feel anxious in that other lane, so this is a wash. I have not yet experienced any super-positive changes to my own attitude. I have no idea if she has even noticed. I hope she has and I intend to ask her if she has when we go see our marriage counselor today.
T I M E
My support group has told me that time is my friend. That only time will allow my wife to recognize that she truly is the villain in her own story. To have her really understand that SHE is the cause of all of this. For her to recognize also that her AP is not the needy ‘good guy’ that weaseled his way into her psyche, but the manipulative fuck that we all know he is. TIME. Time also for me to be able to release the anger like I have been attempting to do over the last couple days. Time for me to ponder how I can find my own self esteem again and really shed my feelings of inadequacy and ugliness (among others). Time for WW and I to possibly find some bonding time and make some memories that are not anger and sorrow and self pity and….
“She’s fast enough for you, old man.” I guess she is. That’s what they tell me. Essentially the theme of this slow-burn reconciliation thing. That if she is showing ANY progress, then that is the progress that we as betrayeds need to embrace. ANYTHING is “fast enough” because you cannot speed this process up. You will never do the Kessel Run in less than 12 parsecs. Not gonna happen. 1-5 years is what they say reconciliation takes for it to be complete if it makes it to complete. I have told myself to give it at least 3. My hope is that I will feel a shift from tentative to optimism at some point along the way and that will give my brain the jump to light speed that it needs for me to relax and feel safe again.
This ‘update’ doesn’t predict a future. I have no preconceived ideas about how this might pan out. I just thought that an update could be beneficial.
Beneficial to ME in my selfish need for some validation of where I am and what I’m going through. For ME to be able to try to get it all on ‘paper’ so that I can help myself try to understand where I am. For ME to see a progression, no matter how up-and-down it has been.
Beneficial for OTHERS who may have a story like mine or PARTIALLY like mine who will be able to see themselves in this writing and be able to feel less alone. Beneficial maybe to all of us who might have a Bad Motivator.
Thanks for reading, my fucked up comrades. Sorry you are here in this sub. It’s a truly shitty place to need to be. I appreciate all of you. Without this sub and the people in it I think I might literally not be around. Here’s to you and your futures. May you find some peace.
Fuck these affairs.

Here is my break up story.
He(29) and I(F25) have been together for almost three years. We had some differences, that’s for sure. He had a brain injury that had an impact on his speech, and motor skills. Sometimes he couldn’t feed himself without flinging it everywhere, so I would happily help. He couldn’t walk correctly without it eventually leading to falling down. I would be his human crutch, he would stand behind me with his hands on my shoulders and the weight of our bodies would work together to keep him upright. It was much easier for me to put his socks on him, than for him to do it some days. So I would do that, and so on. I never minded, not one bit. It never even crossed my mind as the slightest bit of inconvenience. I loved him, and still do - and that love was untouchable. Could not be matched. That’s not to say he won’t find someone who loves him as much as I do, but I know that my love for him was unconditional, and endless. It was strong, and overpowered anything else. We both had insecurities, often he’d ask me who was messaging me when it really was just a game notification, or ten. I played a lot of phone games; bingo, solitaire, slots, word games, whatever. They’d coincidentally all notify me at the same time, typically on the hour, every few hours. I’d do the same, ask “who are you texting?”. Funny, neither of us had a reason to worry about it… to this day, we don’t.
We also had great similarities, we worked together, in my eyes. We would laugh about the dumbest things. We knew exactly how to comfort each other. The little sweet things all added up and made for what I thought was a perfect little peaceful home. Our views on social issues, or moral standards aligned well. Of course, we had some disagreements too, but no two people in this world are 100% eye to eye.
April 6th this year, last month, I boarded my first ever plane, at the age of 25 with him. We were flying to Florida to stay with his mom and her long-term boyfriend at a new home she had just purchased, a seasonal home. This trip was really fun. I loved the time I got to spend with him, and his mom and her partner. On the last full day we were there we had gone to a beach, and as cheesy as it sounds - he picked up a pretty dull looking seashell that was in front of him. He asked me to add it to the bag of unique looking shells I had walked around gathering. I asked him why… It looked so ordinary. He told me for some reason that’s the first thing he spotted when he realized he wants to marry me someday. This made me happy, it made me feel even more secure than I already did.
Fast forward to when we arrive home, the following day. We relaxed over the weekend and then returned to our Monday through Friday jobs. I worked 9-5, and then three nights of the week would have night class from 6-10. He worked 3-11, and so he’d get home just a tad bit later than me. I almost always stayed up to see him, we’d say hi, cuddle, and go to bed. Each weekend we had with each other we would spend time doing whatever, but together. Come the beginning of May, it was a Monday. I went into school 30 minutes early as requested to speak with the director of education. They terminated my enrollment due to an incident that occurred between me and 5 other classmates. An argument, one that should not have happened. I had remorse for this. He had told me the night the argument happened, while I was upset, that he won’t be mad if I get terminated, he thought my reaction to the situation and how I handled it was valid. As long as I stuck through and didn’t drop out over it then he wouldn’t be mad. I agreed, no dropping out. Thursday I got a text message from him. He told me that I have 8 days to move out. That our relationship has been such a big part of his life for so long, he needed to be on his own, be with his friends - essentially that he needed to find himself. In this message he always advised this was nothing I did, that he will cherish all the memories he has that we made together. He also said that he doesn’t want me reaching out unless it was to discuss the division of our belongings, and that doing this face to face would not be healthy or productive, it will just make it harder.
So… Hold on. A month ago, you told me you love me so much, and one day you’re sure you’re going to marry me. I could hear the honesty and vulnerability in your voice, I could see it in your face. Now, all of the sudden, even though you called me babe just this morning, and asked me to pick stuff up from the store for you on my way home… a couple hours later, out of nowhere, you’re just…done? This doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense. I am destroyed. I love you more than anything and would have - did, do anything I possibly could for you, but you think life without me will be better? That fucking hurt, no actually - I swear it killed a part of me. I’m not angry. I am so god damn fucking sad. I am lost. I am anxious. I am scared. I am alone. I feel abandoned. I am uncomfortable. I see no future anymore, the rug was ripped from under me and I was left alone, to get my stuff out as soon as possible while trying to nurse a torn apart, stomped on, broken heart… and what is worse for me, is you’re worth it. People keep telling me to “try to think of the reasons why this is a good thing” but I can't, to me there is absolutely not one good thing about this for me. I can’t stop thinking “is he going to realize this wasn’t the right choice?” “Does he care at all about me?” “How can he not care not one little teenie tiny speck about me, all of the sudden?” “Is he hurting right now and his coping mechanism is to shut me out, 100%, completely?” “Will I ever even hear from him again?” “Is he ok?” “Does he miss me?” “Does he hate me, for essentially… no reason?” “Am I doing the right thing by abiding by his request not to reach out to him?” “Maybe he is waiting for me to reach out to him… but he told me not too.”
I am so lost. I miss you so much. I want you to realize the same. I want you to text me and say, “I don’t know what I was thinking, I miss you, can I see you?”
But all I’ve gotten is radio silence… I’m not religious, I wish I was - in a time like this I feel that faith is the only thing that could make someone feel accepting of the situation… but I still pray to God, or whatever higher power there is that he changes his mind.
I need help, but no one can give it to me. I am helpless.
This happened last Thursday, last text he sent was Saturday night, to confirm I have until this upcoming saturday to move out. Last text I sent was monday, I asked him what he would like me to do with his laundry (due to his disability we had a system for his clothes), but got no response... I haven't texted since.

Part 1
Chicago, 2016. Flinn Gerald is doing his best to make it in the city. Born in Selma, Alabama, he has spent his entire life trying to escape the ever tightening grasp of his small town. But alas, he made it out and is adapting to life in the big city. With a big fancy corporate job, an endless supply of friends, an apartment with a stunning view of the lake, and great distance from his family, what more could he need? Well, there is a lot more (or less) that he needs, but of course that is a story for later.
On a typical Tuesday night at a bar, the regulars crowd in. Flinn is late, as usual, as he stayed late at work (again), but on his arrival, the cheers and hugs from all the friends make everyone forget of the regular inconvenience. Conversation ensued, starting with all the boring finance jargon, but as the drinks flowed, so did the conversation, moving away from work and more into life. This is what everyone preferred.
“Another round, anyone?” asked Raheem, enthusiastically. After a murmur of concurrence, he stood up to make his way up to the bar. “Flinn, care to lend a hand?”
Raheem Bartlett was Flinn’s college roommate and the first person he met outside of his hometown. The pair hit it off instantly despite having wildly different backgrounds. Even in their freshman year, the engineer and the finance major would get into all sorts of trouble together, but eventually they leveled out. Six years later, they still have each other’s backs just like day one.
The pair made their way up to the bar and waited to get the bartender's attention. “What's up with you, bro?” asked Raheem. “You’ve been seeming a bit off.”
“Oh, ya know. Work, life, everything kinda happens so fast. Work has been busy as of late, and the hours long.”
Seeming displeased by this answer, Raheem stared back in concern.
“Really, I’m fine… just long hours.”
“Back in school you’d pull back to back all-nighters and then still make it to a morning class. I find it hard to believe that the mighty Flinn would be so setback by ‘long hours’.”
Flinn took a moment to ponder, staring down at the bar covered in various stamps and postcards beneath the epoxy surface. “I guess, ya know, it's not all it was cracked up to be. I guess I had expected more.” Flinn had mostly dropped his accent, but occasionally it would still slip out.
Despite coming from a long line of mill workers (mostly paper) and farm hands who never ventured further than the Dallas county line, Flinn yearned to leave his small town and conquer the world from a young age. Coming from the poorest county in Alabama, his family always squashed his dreams, labeling them as impossible. But Flinn knew better. Or, at least he knew he could do better. Graduating top of his class a year early and winning a full-ride scholarship to Northwestern University, he had proved everyone wrong and set his own path. The path he was told was impossible became his reality.
“More what?”
“Nothing, really. I mean, what more is there? This is what I always wanted, right? The stable job in the city, never having to worry about money. It’s great, and I couldn’t be more grateful, but… something is missing. Doing the same thing day after day staring at a screen, moving clients money around. I… just hoped it would be more fulfilling, especially after all it took to get here.”
Before he could finish his thought, the bartender came up to take their order: another round for the table, plus a round of shots, plus two more shots.
“What am I saying, really?” added Flinn. “I shouldn’t be complaining. Look at where I am now compared to six years ago. So much has changed. My home, friends, even my diet. I just feel a bit off. Like I need something more to do..
“I get it, bro. Adjusting to your new life can be rough. Enjoy it for a minute or two.” Raheem slides a shot in front of Flinn. “Here, take this.”
Tuesday had become fairly consistent to this point for this group of misfits: Raheem and his girlfriend Amy; Jack; Jasper, from Flinn’s firm, and his wife Max; and of course, Flinn. For nearly two years, these six have been meeting at O’Malley’s every Tuesday night for drinks and trivia. Some nights are more wild than others, but Tuesday has become the staple of the week among them.
Drinks flowed pretty regularly and heavy over the next few hours as the clock approached the end of day. Still going round for round on alternating tabs, the useless debates began to heat up.
“You can’t seriously think Wicker Park is the best neighborhood outside the Loop. Y’all need to get out more,” said Flinn.
“Bro it’s obviously Wicker Park,” argued Raheem.” Right on the blue line, getting to O’Hare is insanely easy, plus you can’t find better music in the city. Besides, Wicker Park has Davenport’s.”
“No one ever says Wicker Park,” adds Jack. “Have you ever heard someone say Wicker Park before?”
“Dude, but you can obviously get to O’Hare from anywhere in the city,” said Flinn
“Sure, but beats walking through that dumb Block 37 Center transfer like you and your red line. No transfer is the way to go, plus the blue line gets you right to the center of the loop.”
“So does every other L line as long as ya don’t mind walking a few blocks!”
“You’re both wrong,” adds Max. “Neither matters because Midway is better anyways.”
“Woah!” the whole table murmurs, sharing shocked looks as if she just confessed to a crime. Flinn rolled his eyes at this notion.
“Who flies out of Midway?” asks Raheem.
“What? Less people, cheaper flights, and more space. Why wouldn’t I fly out of Midway?” said Max.
“Wait, wait, that aside,” interrupts Raheem, “can we go back to the fact that Jasper thinks Sheffield is the best neighborhood? I feel like we moved past that too quickly.”
The debate rages on for many more minutes, until Flinn, seemingly out of nowhere, had enough.
“Can y’all just shut the fuck up! Why does it even matter?” Everyone’s glance quickly shot over to Flinn as a deafening silence overtook the table. Everyone pondered how to respond, and couldn’t seem to find an answer. This behavior from Flinn was unexpected, nay, unheard of. Flinn was the most level headed amongst them by far. Not even Raheem, his best friend of six years, had ever seen him get angry, let alone over an inconsequential friendly argument. “I…” Not even Flinn knew what to say next. “I’m going to go home. Long day tomorrow.” Already on his feet, he quickly walked away from the table and out the door.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The walk home was fairly brisk, but Flinn had grown fond of the cold. He tucked his hands into his coat pocket and hunched his shoulders forward, only looking down at the pavement ignoring the mostly asleep but still wide awake city surrounding him. His thoughts ran wild and near out of control. Of course, his intoxication did not help with clarity, but the inner dialogue was deafening. Not even he knew what was bothering him, but he was obviously bothered, deeply. He made a fool of himself in a way he never had before, and right now he felt he did not recognize himself. Surely some sleep will help, right?
He slowly made his way down the steps to the platform, carefully watching each step as to not fall, to wait for his train. He posted up against a pillar and stared off onto the dark, empty tracks. What has gotten into me? He did his best to calm his racing, wasted mind searching for some legibility amongst his thoughts.
Once he finally got home, he slumped down on the couch and scarfed down some week-old sushi he found in the fridge. He turned on some old documentary and was asleep before he knew it.
Suddenly, he was woken up by his phone ringing. It usually does not ring this time of night and was less than thrilled to be woken, so he let it keep ringing. It stopped after a couple of seconds, and he glanced down at the screen:
Mama
(2) missed calls
Dad
(1) missed call
Now concerned, he calls his mom back in a hurry. “Hello?”
“Flinn? Your grandfather, he’s dead.”
Part 2
The wet air engulfed Flinn’s face as he stepped out the airport doors into a warm February day. Six years had passed since he smelled the Alabama air. Even after all this time, it still smells just as he had remembered as if not even a day had passed. The drive to Selma was another ninety minutes, and despite having five days to mentally prepare himself for his arrival, it was not nearly enough time. He had not seen or spoken to anyone from his town, not even family, since he left early that August morning all those years ago. He left everything behind to start his new life. The life so many told him to not start, that he needed to stay. He left anyway and never looked back.
That was, until now. He had little choice in this regard. He knew he would have to make his return someday, but he knew not when nor for what. But today was that day. Flinn and his grandfather (Pops) had always been close. If anyone had been supportive of him, it’d have been Pops, but he was a man of little words. Even when he could talk, he hardly chose to. He was a great listener, and not just because he could not speak. He showed he was engaged and listening no matter what Flinn had to say. At times, he felt Pops was the only one who understood him as if he had been just like him before, but no one would ever talk about his past. All Flinn knew is Pops lost his tongue after a failed lynching.
The familiarity of the scenery zipping past was bittersweet. He had not realized how much he missed the rolling hills and thick forests beneath the unforgiving southern sky. He kept his head pressed against the cool glass of the car window even through the constant bumps in the road. He couldn’t look away. So many memories happened here, and the closer he got, the more plentiful the memories became, and the more potent they were, and the more painful they’d become.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the dust settled behind him, he stood on the driveway staring at his childhood home still unsure how to process his emotions. It was all so overwhelming. He was thinking everything at once. He took a deep breath, rolled back his shoulders, and swallowed. He reached for the door handle, hesitating slightly, and took a step in. One foot, and then the next.
“Martin!” Flinn smiled as his old friend and childhood dog rushed towards him without hesitation. He knelt down and embraced him as Martin excitedly rustled through his arms seemingly showing more energy than he had in years.
He walked down the hall and around the corner into the living room. There, both drawn to the large television like moths to a flame, he saw his parents sitting beside one another on the couch watching some daytime program with their backs to him. They seemed to pay no notice to the commotion at the front door nor the loud creaking footsteps he took along the old wooden floors. They knew he was there; they just chose to ignore him. He walked into view to greet them. "Mama, dad." His father smiled slightly but caught himself and refrained.
Mama kept a straight face, but seemed to be fighting tears."Howard, help Flinn with his bags, dear."
“No, it's alright, I know where to take them,” said Flinn. “How are y’all?”
“Service is tomorrow at eleven down at the ole First Baptist Church. Make sure to wear something nice.”
“Alright, mama. I’ll... I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Whole family is coming tonight. Dinner is served at...”
“At seven, I got it, just as always.”
“It’s good to see you, kid.” said his dad. “Let me know if you need anything”
He did not expect things to go like that, not that he knew what to expect. He had hoped time would have been more forgiving. Perhaps leaving unannounced in the middle of the night was not the best plan, but at the time he felt as if he had no other choice. Everyone knew he was leaving. That was no secret and had not been for years before any plan had actually been set into motion. No one knew the date or time, except for Pops, of course, but he’d never tell. Of course he wanted everyone to know. He wanted everyone to be proud of him, but it was too big of a risk and commendations were too much to expect. Besides, Mama always had her schemes, and had she known, she would have found a way to stop him.
Not much had changed since he’d been here last. The old wood paneling still lined nearly all the walls, crack in some spots, replaced in others, but all coated by decades of cigarette soot. On the walls were a combination of family portraits from over the years and cheap artwork found at the flea market. Old green furniture, too many house plants to count, and a tacky themed kitchen, it was all still the same.
His childhood bedroom, however, was much different. Hardly even recognizable, what was once his bedroom was now a storage room filled with endless shelves and boxes. He set his things on the lonely cot in the corner, sat down, and took it all in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Not realizing he had drifted off, Flinn awoke and looked at the clock. 6:55. Convenient. He sat up and brushed his hair down with his hand as he suspected it was sticking up in the usual way. He rubbed his eyes and made his way to the dining room. The whole family was there, probably about twenty people or so, all scattered about throughout the kitchen, dining room, and living room engaged in various conversations. His nana, aunt, and Mama were cooking away putting the final touches on the large meal.
“Well if it isn’t this fucker…” said a familiar voice to his left, laughing. Flinn looked over to see his cousin who’s just a year younger than him.
“DeAndre, how are you?”
“Never thought I’d see you again, even since you left. Thought maybe you ‘ood be dead.”
“Nah,” Flinn laughed. “Still very much alive.”
“I can see dat. Wearin’ your fancy suit and all.”
“Yeah I’ve been doing pretty well. Work has been… good. I have a great job at a finance firm in Chicago. Everything has been… Good. Yeah, good. How about you?”
“Now you ain’t goin’ city on us, are you?”
Flinn laughed. “I think I might already be.”
Just as dinner was finishing up, a line started to form and people found a seat wherever they could, be it at the table, on the couch, near the counter, or outside.
“Flinn!” his dad called out. “I saved ya a seat here at the table, kid.”
Flinn took his seat right next to his dad which positioned him right across from Mama. The table could sit eight, and the seats filled in pretty quickly so he was lucky to get one. Besides his sister, all of the oldest family members took the other four chairs.
The dinner itself was mostly uneventful, except for the food of course which was extraordinary. Flinn had not eaten Mama’s cooking, or anything like it in six years. The southern food in Chicago was alright, but nothing like what you can get down here, and no restaurant is going to have the same quality and taste as a home-cooked meal. By God, he had not realized how much he needed this. It was almost healing, like a part of his soul had been lost and he found it once again. The last week had been incredibly overwhelming, and last Saturday he never foresaw being here now, but he was glad he was, regardless of the looming tension. All the stress from work and life back home in Chicago was now all gone. All he had to worry about was… oh yeah, the family drama. The dreaded interactions, what he had suppressed for so long, that had kept him up at night for years. All those long nights doing homework or anything else beside sleeping. They had not been by choice but rather necessity. He would have slept more if he could, and some of those nights he really needed to, but instead was kept motivated by the pain. The pain of knowing no matter what he did, no matter how successful in life he became, he would never be good enough for his family, good enough for Mama, because he left them.
If there ever was a time to clear his conscience and get everything out of the way, it would be today, or at least over the next couple of days. When else would he have the chance? Not that any of this had been planned, and his therapist would probably advise against it. She did not even know he was here. What would she have to say? Avoiding conflict has always been his choice. He has always been quiet, never been at the center of drama, but some things need to be said. Just, maybe not by him. If he waited long enough, perhaps they would come up on their own. So he decided to wait, but he knew time was limited and he could not wait forever.
“Mama, could you pass the butter?”
Mama just stared back at him. “Get ya own damn buttah, since ya can do everything else on ya own.”
Flinn stands up and reaches for the butter. “I can do everything myself, and I have. I hope you’re proud, Mama.”
“Proud? What do I have to be proud of?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe my job, my degree, everything I have been able to do to build a good life for myself.”
“I don hear anything worthy of praise.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mama.”
“Oh, so now you’re sorry? You could’ve fooled me. Is that how you felt when you left? Unbelievable.”
“I left because I had no other choice.”
“Oh don go lyin’ to me now. You did have a choice. You had a choice and you chose to leave us. You didn’t say goodbye, and you were just gone in the mornin’.”
“If I had not just left, you would’ve stopped me.”
“Cause you ain’t got no reason to go nowhere.”
“I had plenty of reasons to want to leave, and not because of you. I’ve always had dreams, Mama, ya know that. I’ve always been bigger than just this town.”
“Oh, so now you’re too good for us, city boy? Huh? I don wanna hear no more of it.”
“It wasn’t about that, Mama. Look at all I’ve been able to do.”
“I ain’t see nothin’. You never call and you never visit. How am I supposed to know what you been doin’?”
“I thought you didn’t want me coming around any more?”
“Well, you’ve got that right. Glad to see you still have some brains left.”
“Well excuse me. Maybe it's best if I leave again. Sorry I ain’t make you proud, Mama.” Flinn got up and left the table.
Part 3
Just as the early light began to peak through the blinds, Flinn was woken up by a firm knock at his door. “Flinn, may I come in? It's Uncle Terrence.”
Flinn sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Yep, come in.”
“How are you this morning, kid? Ya know, she’ll never admit it, but ya Mama missed ya.”
“I find it hard to believe.” Deep down Flinn knew it was true, but she was hard as a rock, and arrogant. She would always find a way to be right, even when she knew she was wrong, and she would never let you know she knew she was wrong.
“Well, we’re all proud of you, kid.” Flinn hated when Terrence and everyone called him kid. “Just wish yoo’d come around and see us every once in a while. I know ya busy with all the big city stuff and all.”
“I thought no one wanted anything to do with me any more?”
“At first, maybe, but I miss ya, kid. Ya know who missed ya most of all?”
“Pops?”
“Yes, of course. He always wanted to know about ya, every time I’d come round. He couldn’t call, but always wanted me to.”
“I should have called.”
“I think everyone wanted to call, but as time went on, it became harder and harder to push that button. It was already so hard at first, and only got harder.”
“I thought about everyone a lot, especially at first. Leaving was really hard, and I almost didn’t, but I always wanted more. I didn’t want to spend my whole life in this town, and if I had not left when I did I probably never would have. But it was still hard. I wanted to go home so many times, but I convinced myself no one wanted me here no more or that y’all would’ve said ‘I told ya so’ or sum bullshit. No one wanted me around any more and I had left, so I was stuck on the path I chose. And I’m happy, and I’ve done so much, but it’s never been easy.”
“Pops was a lot like you when he was your age. Set on leaving as quickly as he could. Things were different back then, not that they are any better now, but Hank... my brother… Pops, was just like you.”
“What changed?”
“Well, he never did. Just no one talks about it anymore. After what happened on that day, they blamed his behavior. Said he should’ve played it safe and he’d still have his tongue.”
“No one has ever told me the story.”
“And they won’t. It changed the whole family.”
“But you’ll tell me?”
“Only if you promise not to tell. I don need an earful from ya Mama.”
“I promise.”
“Hank couldn’t be confined to Selma, just like you. He joined the army right out of high school, and after he was done in Lebanon, he didn’t go straight home.”
“Where did he go?”
“Everywhere but here. He used the small amount of money he got from the army and went anywhere that would let him in. Across Europe, parts of Asia, Northern Africa, even parts of South America. Of course, a young black man traveling by himself at the time was challenging, but Hank could hold his own pretty well. He still ran into all sorts of trouble. He spent more nights in jail than he would have liked, but he would have done it all again if he could.”
“What happened when he got back?”
“He was much different, but for the better. He couldn’t wait to get back out there again. He had confidence like I had never seen before. That’s what got him in trouble not too long after.”
“How’d he lose his tongue? I’m guessing that is what changed everything.”
“When he got back, he got involved with a girl, I think her name was Susan. She was the mayor’s daughter. They snuck around for a while. Their relationship was not acceptable, especially to her father. If he found out, Hank would be in a lot of trouble, and of course eventually he did find out. He spent about a month in jail in just awful conditions even for the time. They didn’t have anything to hold him on so eventually they had to let him go. About a week after he got out, he was walking downtown and some guys grabbed him. He took him out to a field and tried to lynch him. Luckily, they failed and he survived, but they took his tongue as a warning. He was never the same after that. All of his confidence was gone, and of course he couldn’t speak no more.”
Flinn did not know how to respond. It all made sense now: why the family so desperately wanted him to stay, why they were so hurt by him leaving, and why they’d feared who he was becoming. They were all traumatized and wanted to protect him. They did not want him to suffer the same fate as Pops.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The funeral itself was fairly uneventful and went nearly as perfectly as expected. The church filled in with hardly any empty seats, tears were shed, and speeches were given. Pops touched the lives of almost everyone he met, and they came to show it. After the service was the reception, and yet again, the food was spectacular. Everyone got along just fine today and there was no more residual drama, at least for now. Today was Pops’ day.
After the reception, the family gathered back at Mama’s house for the reading of the will. Pops did not have many possessions, at least not of monetary value, but what he did have was meaningful in other ways. He was very clear on who he wanted to give off, and handpicked what would be most substantial to each person.
Everyone gathered around much as they did at dinner, and the lawyer began his reading:
I, Hank Gerald, a resident in the City of Selma, County of Dallas, State of Alabama, being of sound mind, not acting under duress or undue influence, and fully understanding the nature and extent of all my property and of this disposition thereof, hereby make, publish, and declare this document to be my Last Will and Testament, and hereby absolutely revoke any and all other wills and amendments previously made by me.
The reading went on for some time as there were many beneficiaries. Flinn began to daydream about what could be left for him. Flinn was not a very sentimental person, so trinkets and heirlooms paid him little interest. Perhaps his car, or maybe money. Something that will be useful to him.
To my dear brother, Terrence, I leave my 1964 Pontiac GTO and all tools and parts associated and necessary with/for the running and upkeep of the vehicle.
The further down the list he went, less was given, but this is to be expected. As the end of the list neared, Flinn began to wonder what would be left for him if anything at all. The will had been in order of age, to this point, so he should be up soon.
To my Granddaughter, Nia,...
Nia? She's younger than me… Flinn thought.
I leave her my grandmother’s locket containing a picture of my Grandfather before he left for the Great War. She looked at it everyday to keep the memory of him alive until he eventually returned to her alive.
How could he skip me? Perhaps I should have called, or never left. Flinn got lost in his own thoughts and barely paid attention to the rest of the will. He and Pops were so close, and he never imagined he would be taken out of the will. But that is my own fault, afterall. I left, and I never even care to call. He died, and I never even said goodbye.
Just as Flinn began to accept the consequences of his actions, they got to the last beneficiary listed in the will:
Finally, to my oldest Grandson, Flinn, who is more and more like me than I ever could have wished to have been, I leave my journal. I hope whenever you need the motivation, you read it to find the meaning you are looking for in life.
Part 4
Flinn sat at his desk unable to focus. It was fairly slow for a Friday, but he still had work to do. After a chaotic weekend back home in Alabama, he was ready to settle back into his monotonous routine. The experience had been healing in some regards, but still left a lot unanswered. What did he mean by finding the meaning in life? Flinn wondered as he flipped through the endless pages of Pops’ journal, all filled with endless recounts, drawings, symbols, and pictures from his travels, just as he had since Monday. The journal consumed his whole attention, and nothing else seemed important enough to focus on. He had even ditched his friends all week which he never does.
He is supposed to meet Raheem for drinks tonight, but now he is wondering if he even wants to go. There is just too much in his head right now. He just wants to be alone. 12:37. The clock is moving too slowly. Flinn clears his calendar for the rest of the day and decides to go home.
At home, he still finds himself flipping through the pages of the journal, not even reading them but just looking at them. Again and again, he flips through until he has enough. He drops the journal on his lap and stares off into the distance at the gorgeous view of Lake Michigan. The endless city and skyline take up most of the horizon until it just stops, cut off by the endless ocean-like lake. He stares at it for quite a while until something catches his eye. He has seen this before. Well, of course he has. He lives here and this is his view everyday. But he knows he has seen it somewhere else.
He picks the journal back up and flips through in a hurry. There it is. He holds the journal up to the window to show a matching two-page drawing of this exact view. Well, not exact. It is a slightly different angle, but it was close enough. Pops was here. He would have loved visiting. I should have invited him. This made Flinn sad, and he threw the journal down on the table in frustration.
Just then, that is when he noticed it. There was a page sticking out from the journal, but it was not like the rest. The page was white and pristine, aside from a few wrinkles, as if it was new, whereas the rest of the journal showed its age. He rushed over to grab it. He opened it to find a letter, addressed to him:
Grandson, When you left, I knew that you would accomplish everything you set out to do. I also knew, however, you would find yourself lost someday, returning home for answers. I was hoping I’d be able to give you those answers myself, but as time goes on that seems less likely. I too found myself lost, and I knew not why. I had gone and seen the world, and it changed me, but I was still not fulfilled. I came home still looking for the answers, and it took a while, but eventually I did find them.
Through this journal, I hope to share my findings so that you too, when you are lost, find the answers you seek. Whenever you are ready, follow my journey and the clues I have left for you. Go out and see the world, just as I did. You will find that what you want from life is less than what you expect.
I hope the experiences you have are less harsh than my own, but still be careful. The world has changed a lot, but still not enough. But don’t skip ahead for the meaning may be lost. Take only one step at a time, and when it comes time to take the next step, it will reveal itself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seven o’clock rolls around and Flinn walks into the bar to meet Raheem. He hasn’t seen Raheem, or anyone else from the group, since last Tuesday when he had his outburst. He begins by telling the story of the events of this last weekend, but leaves out the parts about Pops’ past.
"Pops left me a hidden letter.”
“What do you mean?” asked Raheem.
“Like in his journal, I found a hidden letter. It was addressed to me.”
“What did it say, bro?”
“He says he was a lot like me when he was my age. He wants me to go where he went and learn what he did.”
“In Alabama?”
“No, everywhere but there. He wants me to start in Western Europe and follow his clues around the world.”
“He traveled?”
“A lot, apparently. I never knew. He was in the army, and after he got out, he traveled… everywhere, basically.”
“Why did no one tell you?”
“They wanted to keep me safe, I guess.
"They wanted to keep the whole family safe after what happened to him.”
“What do you mean, bro. What happened?”
“I can’t talk about it, but it doesn’t matter now anyways. I’m living a different life now.” Flinn never shared much about his past or his family with anyone, not even Raheem. It has always been a mystery. This was the most he had ever shared with him.
“Well, are you going to go?”
“No, I can’t. I have work. It took too much to get here. I can’t just give it away.”
“It’ll still be here when you get back, bro.”
“If only it was that simple.”
“It can be. You have money saved up. Chicago isn’t going anywhere. We’re not going anywhere. Plus, you’ve always talked about traveling more. Why don’t you take some time to do it.”
“I suppose, but I like my life here.”
“If you don’t do it now, when will you? You’ve taken a leap before, why not take another one. You’re smart, you’ll land on your feet, bro. Besides, your grandfather thought it was important enough to not only give you his journal, but hide you a letter for you to find when you needed it most. Maybe now is when you needed it most. You’re way too stressed at work anyways, and I can tell you’ve been off for a while now. Perhaps some change could give you what you need.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On Monday morning, when Flinn gets to work, he walked straight to his boss's office. He turned in his letter of resignation.
Two weeks later, he took the red line to the blue line to O’Hare. Journal in hand, he boarded a flight to Dublin.

I don't really have anyone to talk to about this, so I'm just kind of here to vent.
I'm pretty sure that I've had anxiety for as long as I can remember. I recall being as young as 4 or 5 years old and experiencing major existential crises that turned into breakdowns. I was scared a lot, slept on my parents' bedroom floor a lot. Feelings of death and doom have always kept me up at night. There was one bout when I was about 14 where I spent around 3 months sleeping in my parents' room until they got us a family dog to keep me company in my own room at night. I was generally always able to keep busy and had a very active social life. I was always the funny one, outgoing, had lots of friends, and nobody knew what I was dealing with when I was alone. I was able to distract myself by keeping a busy social life, playing sports, studying, focusing on my hobbies. My anxieties were always brushed under the rug by both me and my family members, we all just thought I was quirky and would get over it. We never addressed my issues as "anxiety" or any kind of mental health issue.
I'm older now (31F) and my anxiety has snowballed to the point where I don't know what to do or how to be truly happy anymore. Any second I'm left alone with my own thoughts, it's darkness. My friends and family wouldn't know I'm struggling because being with them, socializing, doing activities are what tend to keep me sane and my mind off the stress of it all, so I probably appear happy. When I'm distracted and with my loved ones it's like I'm taking a break from my mind and I can finally take a breath.
I've always had an overwhelming fear of death. I'm terrified of dying and I'm terrified of my loved ones dying. With this comes extreme health anxiety, which has resulted in ER visits, being probed, having my blood drawn, being hooked up to IVs. When I think that something is wrong with me health-wise, it's all consuming. The blood rushes from my face and I panic, cry, and shut down until it's resolved. It could be something as simple as a lump in my throat or back pain. Simple things that come along with aging send me into a spiral and no matter how hard I try to tell myself "it's just your anxiety" it doesn't help. This constant stress tends to cause me physical symptoms which is like a vicious cycle when it comes to health anxiety. I've experienced shortness of breath, the feeling that my throat is closing (apparently this is called globus), tension everywhere, ice pick headaches, constipation, blurred vision, fatigue, chest pains, numbness, dry mouth. To name a few.
At this point, any time spent alone without a distraction is unbearable. I don't remember the last time I actually relaxed without my mind going crazy. It's starting to bleed into my relationships at this point, I get these compulsions where I can't stop engaging in what my therapist called "checking behavior". I am constantly asking my husband if he thinks I'm dying, then when he reassures me I'll move onto asking my mom, then I'll move onto my best friends, and then my other best friends. It's like I lose all self control and become to convinced that whatever this issue is will FINALLY be the thing that kills me, so everyone needs to listen. It got to the point where my mother begged me to consider medication because I was causing her so much stress, so I just stopped talking about it. Stopped checking (with people, I still google everything), stopped talking about my feelings, and now I just feel like I'm so mentally exhausted and miserable all the time that I don't find joy in the things I used to anymore. It's like a cloud of darkness over me all the time, with a looming feeling of doom in the back of my mind 24/7. I don't even know if I'm scared of death anymore, I just don't feel anything.
I sought conselling last year and spoke with a therapist for the first time, and it felt nice at first, but after 4 or 5 sessions I felt like I couldn't truly open up to them. Maybe I need to try a new one.
If I was being honest with my therapist I would have told them that I feel doomed. My partner wants to have kids and I've always wanted children, but there's a voice telling me that I'll die soon so what's the point. I would never harm myself, I just feel like something bad will happen to me. At night when I'm trying to sleep I sometimes imagine myself dead and in a morgue, and the thoughts won't leave my brain until I grab my phone and start scrolling TikTok. I sometimes have moments where I look at my husband and see a stranger and feel like I'm in an alternate universe. I'm not sure what that's about.
I feel like there's a chemical imbalance in my brain that can only be fixed with medication, but I'm terrifired of going on meds. Talking about my feelings isn't helping me, and anything a therapist can tell me or any CBT methods won't work. I felt like I already knew what my therapist was going to say before they said it, I could finish their sentences, I had the answers to all of their questions. I know what exercises I need to do to help myself and it doesn't matter. Nothing helps.
Anyway, that felt nice to write. I'm not sure what's going on with me, if it's anxiety, depression, both. I was diagnosed with PCOS last year and apparently depression and anxiety can be a symptom, so maybe that's where it comes from. Not really sure where to go from here, but I don't think I can take feeling like this anymore. I am mentally exhausted. Should I try medication?
Thanks for reading.

DC Next Proudly Presents:

The Linear Men

Issue Twenty:Family Reunion
Written by Dwright5252
Edited by Predaplant

< Prev. Next Issue > Coming Next Month


The Waverider
When she was growing up, Deirdre Harkness often thought about how things might’ve been different in her household if she had an older brother to take the brunt of her father’s attention. How her path through life could have been vastly different, her rap sheet a little more… non-existent.
Now that such a brother seemingly existed, albeit from another Earth altogether, she was starting to realize that maybe she was fine being an only child.
“Listen, this’ll go a lot faster if you stop being so obtuse, Deirdre,” Owen Mercer scowled, twirling one of his razor-sharp boomerangs deftly between his fingers as he paced the deck of the Waverider. Deirdre sat in the hot seat, the Linear Men staring at her on one side while her current and former romantic partners stood on the other. The multiversal children of Digger Harkness faced off in the middle, neither seeming to want to give any inch in their argument.
“Look, I’m just sayin’ I’d be able to find my friends better without some drongo stealing my schtick,” she responded casually, moving to take a boomerang of her own from her bandolier before remembering the new time cops had confiscated all her weapons. “Surely Jenny Sparks has someone better to send along.”
Was she being difficult? Absolutely. Was this petty argument preventing her from saving her missing teammates? Undoubtedly.
Did she want to take this pretender down a peg? You know it.
“Perhaps we can arrive at some kind of accord, beloved,” Ystin interjected, placing a hand on Deirdre’s shoulder. “I understand how jarring seeing this knave must be, but our comrades in arms are lost to time. Other priorities must take precedence.”
Sighing deeply, Deirdre fell back into the chair behind her, irked that this modified timeline removed all the progress she’d made in molding the chair to fit her form. She could see Liri wince at the force she had used to enter the chair, and felt a little bad about that.
God, she could be selfish sometimes.
“Fine. Fine, I’ll be a good sheila now. What is your plan, oh fearless brother o’ mine?” She felt the tension in the room let up slightly, and Ystin gave her a grateful smile.
Owen pulled out another boomerang of his and started pressing the buttons on it. A projection appeared, seemingly the timeline they were currently in. Biting back her instincts to make fun of her brother’s projecto-rang, she sat back and listened as he began to point at the timeline. “As you can see, this is the current stream that we’re in. You can see these discolorations,” he explained, pointing at the shades of red appearing in the mostly blue timeline, “that indicate the anomalies you’re normally after. Sure, they aren’t the best thing to have appear, but it’s within the Time Masters’ range of acceptable aberrations. From what Deirdre is saying, the kind of anomaly we’re looking for with this situation, with one team seemingly erased from time and another fully resurrected, should be lighting this up like a Christmas tree. That massive of a ripple effect from those changes would unmoor us into the Bleed, never to return.”
“But we’re clearly still here,” Rip Hunter said, scowling. “So you’re saying she’s full of it.”
“Not necessarily,” Owen replied, and Deirdre felt a slight pang in her chest as her brother came to her defense. He dialed in another setting and another hologram appeared, this time showing various circles floating around the timestream. “What do you know about time bubbles?”
Michael raised his hand, ever the teacher’s pet, apparently. “They’re basically pocket dimensions separated out from the timestream. The Time Masters use them sometimes to isolate threats to the stream or conduct experiments.”
“Gold star to you,” Owen said, and Deirdre rolled her eyes as Michael beamed. She missed Booster so much. “Yes, exactly that. So let’s say that these bubbles,” he circled a majority of them, “were made and accounted for. We’re left with a good dozen unsanctioned by the Time Masters.”
Deirdre’s hopes started to pick up before Rip dashed them. “But that’s also within parameters for a timestream. Nature abhors a vacuum and makes time bubbles naturally to fill in any blank spaces that appear. You’re grasping at straws.”
Owen turned toward the captain of the Waverider. “I’m sorry, did you want to run this presentation? I can go back to the Authority and leave y’all to your issues if you want.”
Before Rip could respond, Liri stepped in. “Rip, let the poor boy explain. You’re being an asshole.”
Deirdre blinked, surprised at Liri’s interjection. The AI she knew would never put the captain in his place like that. And even more shocking, she saw Rip pull back and motion for Owen to continue, clearly chastened by his crewmate.
Miracles did happen.
“You’re correct, the other bubbles not highlighted are indeed naturally occurring.” Owen pointed at them and expanded them. “But someone with enough access and know-how can commandeer these time bubbles and manipulate them for their own uses.”
Matthew Rider raised his hand. “So you’re saying our missing people could be inside these bubbles? But what about the damage to the timeline from removing them in the first place?”
“Good question. Like I said, this level of fuckery to the order of things should’ve made things completely unravel. That being said, it is possible for someone with a high degree of chronal knowledge and access to do it. It’d be damn risky, as one mistake could spell disaster. But… it's becoming more and more evident that whatever’s responsible for this isn’t an amateur.” Owen pulled up a blank file now, a glaring DATA NOT FOUND flashing in front of them. “You say you all saw Walker Gabriel vanish, and still have memories of him. He’s not in our databases anymore, and there’s not even a void left behind where he should be. This thing took him out and plastered over the timestream to remove any trace.”
Silence fell on the group as the idea of what they were up against sunk in. Deirdre pondered who or what could hate them enough to do something like this.
“So what’re our next steps?” Liri asked, typing away furiously at her datapad. “Should we search these time bubbles for our missing teammates?”
Deirdre smiled sadly as she heard Liri refer to her friends as teammates. This version didn’t even know these people, didn’t have any definitive proof that they even existed, and yet she took them in her heart as part of the team.
Owen shook his head. “That would take too long, and might tip off whatever’s doing this to our plan. We need more manpower for the search and a way to narrow down the field.” Roxy Rocket, who’d spent the entire conversation vlogging the control room with her camera, piped in. “Sciency stuff isn’t really my bag, but could you maybe look for people that interacted with these folks and trace them that way? Use their memories to bridge the gap or whatever?”
To Deirdre, it sounded like the kind of stupid thing that just might work. “I know someone that might be able to help us with that, and I can get some people together we could use.”
Hub City, Illinois
Something was wrong, of that Violet was certain.
Their journey had led them across the globe when they’d felt it happen, felt the universe attempting to steal another memory from them. Violet fought against the overwhelming vibrations that tried to steal the memory of their friend from them, using their powers to shield their mind and their heart. It took everything they had, rendering Violet unconscious for a day. But when they awoke, they still remembered Michael Jon Carter, Booster Gold. The first person in Violet’s memory that tried to help them.
It felt fitting, going from trying to discover their past to helping bring their friend back from oblivion.
The problem was, nothing was working.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Daniel Carter asserted, shifting on his crutches as he tried to close the door on Violet. They held their hand out to stop it, and felt fear trickle through Daniel’s aura.
“I do not mean to startle you, I am just trying to find some answers,” Violet explained, backing away from the door to give Daniel some space. “I know it sounds strange, but I am telling you only the truth.”
“Look, I wish you luck in… this whole thing you’ve got going,” Daniel said, “but I don’t have a clue about any future relatives of mine, whatever the hell that means. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get ready for a job interview.”
This time, Violet allowed him to slam the door in their face. It was no use. It seemed anyone they’d attempted to contact didn’t have any memories of their friend. Violet knew that if they could only use their aura to show Daniel the true way of things…
But no. That would be a trespass they were hesitant to employ. There had to be a way to bring Michael back without hurting anyone. They would find it, they were sure of it. “Well, if it isn’t the most colorful person I know,” a familiar voice said from behind them. Violet turned around to see Deirdre Harkness approaching them from across the street. Unconsciously adjusting their hijab, Violet ran towards their former teammate and enveloped her in a tight hug.
“You are truly a sight for sore eyes, Deirdre,” Violet said, tears running down their face as they took in their old friend’s presence. “I could really use a friendly ear at the moment. I feel as if I have gone insane.”
Deirdre pulled back from the hug to look Violet in the eye. After a moment of searching, she smiled. “You remember, don’t you?”
Violet’s eyes widened in shock and joy. “Tell me you are not humoring me. You truly remember our friend?”
A wave of relief washed over Violet, and it was all they could do to keep their aura in check as Deirdre spoke. “Not only do I remember Booster and Rip and the others, but I think I have a way to get them back.”
Radiance, Pennsylvania
Living in a mansion wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. For instance, the amount of upkeep required to keep it from becoming a dusty mountain of sadness was just completely unrealistic for one person to do. That meant hiring people to help maintain the grounds, sweep the floors, clean the bathrooms and bedrooms.
Mitch Shelley was not a fan of people.
“No, I said not to make the topiary look like a Soder Cola can,” Mitch insisted to his groundskeeper, an older man whose proximity to loud saws all his life made him hard of hearing. “It looks corny as fuck.”
The old man shook his head. “I think it looks fine, sir. Plus I know your corporate sponsors will appreciate it for that gala you’re holding next week.”
Goddammit. Mitch had been dreading that stupid party ever since he’d been asked to host it in honor of his latest sponsorship campaign for the Soder Cola company. Sure, he wasn’t too involved with the planning (at least, when he could dodge the phone calls and house visits of the party planner he’d hired) but it still took up way too much of his time. That wasn’t to mention the fact that he had to attend the thing.
In a suit.
Ugh.
“Maybe you’re right. Thanks, Joe,” Mitch said, handing the groundskeeper a generous tip. Joe was probably the most down-to-earth of his employees, and he wanted to make sure he was taken care of. Joe shook his hand appreciatively and walked out the door, brushing past a red haired woman dressed garishly in some sort of costume.
“You’re a week early for the gala, darlin’,” Mitch said, waving her away as he tried to escape to his theater room. “I’m sure whatever skill you have will be enough to entertain the suits coming to this shindig.”
“Har de har, asshole,” the woman said, her Australian accent giving him pause. What was an Aussie doing in Pennsylvania? “I’m actually here for Resurrection Man. Need his help.”
Mitch sighed, “Look, I’m sure whatever cat’s stuck in a tree will get itself out. If this is about Lazarus, tell that fucker he can come and face me himself rather than sending his new sidekick.”
The woman rolled her eyes. “Look, I know you. You’re a wild horse that can’t be reined in. You need adventure in your life, and I’m here to offer it. Ever time traveled before?”
Mitch stopped on the steps. “In a manner of speaking. What did you have in mind?” Maybe he’d hear this woman out. If anything it might last long enough to get him out of this fucking party.
Opal City
“Stargazer tipline, how can we help?” Jack Knight was surprised when the old phone line started to ring. Courtney had been right; most people used the app to ask for help. He’d almost forgotten the tipline was a thing, and it had startled him into dropping his tools as he worked on another upgrade to the Star Staff. His father’s laboratory made the ringing sound like it was coming from all over, so he’d almost missed the call when he couldn’t find the phone buried under all the schematics.
“Hello Starman, long time fan, first time caller,” a voice said from the receiver, the accent telling him this wasn’t an Opal citizen. “Need your assistance in a caper.” He was tempted to hang up the phone; no doubt this was some kind of crank call. “What’re the details of this… caper, ma’am?” He’d humor her for a little bit. Jennifer and Courtney had been on his case about crunch culture and making sure to take breaks, so maybe this could count as his allotted rest period.
“First off, I think I’m younger than you, so shove off with your ma’am,” the woman huffed. “Second, this isn’t a joke. Why don’t you come out of your little work shed and see what I mean.”
The line clicked, and Jack looked at the phone in confusion. What a weird call. There was no way anyone knew where he was at the moment, so he chalked it up to someone having a laugh at his expense. As he picked up his blowtorch to continue his welding, the intercom buzzed.
“Jack, can you please come up here and tell these yahoos to get their spaceship out of my backyard before they wreck my azaleas?” Jack heard his father’s voice resonate through the speaker. He jumped up to look at the outside cameras, and sure enough, there floated a spaceship of some sort.
He pulled out his phone and texted into the All Star Group Chat. “Hey, gang. Might need to be out of the city for a bit on a mission. I’ll keep you posted.”

I just mentioned this person in a comment and it reminded me to make a rant post about her.
Friend of a friend, I'm not exactly sure on age but can't be older than 25.
Mother of....I honestly can't remember but I think 6?! Give or take one, and she's currently pregnant.
Dad is involved. But honestly all he can do is work as much as he can. Can't imagine he gets much time with the kids, probably just enough to give mom time to like...be a human.
I just....😬 how? Why? There is no way any one of those kids gets enough one on one time. And as they get older they're just gonna get more expensive! I can't imagine they'll be able to help any of their kids with big life expenses (cacollege) but I'm not even sure they'll be able handle minor ones (sports/cell phone).
But here's the kicker. Get your mad face on. She wants more. Why? Because she only has one girl. That was my line of "ok I'm removing myself from this persons life". She's never been anything but totally respectful of me not wanting kids, so of course I tried to give her the same courtesy but that's too far for me. Can you imagine?! Being in a family with that many siblings and being one of the "stinky boys" (that's a quote from her). With that attitude I can't imagine she treats the boys the same as the girl.
🤦‍♀️ Thankfully her family is keeping an eye on everything so I know for a fact those kids will always have what they need but it's sad. You can't buy a mothers love

hi y'all (hope you're doing great :3) I've been in a relationship for 9 month now and I (18F) was on the phone with him (18M) I said how bad I felt rn physically, mentally and emotionally too and all I got was nowhere near reassurance or worries for me am I dreaming or am I caring too much for him ??? I just feel like he doesn't know yet how to be emotionally here for me bc ik we're young but it's just so exhausting some times he never cares whenever I talk about how I feel
he always asks me : "do you know why you don't laugh at my jokes anymore?" And I say "yes because like I warned you before, I don't feel great theses days it's been hard for me to keep my mental state up" he just keeps telling me : " no it's actually because you wanna take a break from me, do you want us to take a break?"

• we're planning to stay together for a while because we love each other sm but I cannot stay with someone who will not validate any of my feelings even though we're young, or care about them because it's supposed to be something you do without thinking about it when you're in love with someone right? If he doesn't show any interest in learning how to be here what can I even do at this point

This CT creates 7 different personalities that all possess a signature ability of their own.
The 7 Wills:
The Cackling Devil
The Drought
The Dusk-Destroyer
The Eradicator
The Crimson Reaper
The Remorseless
The Cyber Killer
The Drought: A tall, muscular woman with long dark green hair and deep black eyes. She has gills on her chest and webbed hands and feet that help with her natural ability to swim. The Drought is a resentful woman that has trust issues with people and has problems with connecting with others, making her a lone wolf that only cares for her own well-being. Her CT allows her to generate and control an endless amount of water that can be so powerful it could drown whole cities in due time. The water she generates is infected with special bacteria that causes any Non-Sorcerers to turn into soldiers called "Necrolantians", which have the ability to shape-shift and have super strength and speed. She also has a black trident that augments her control over the water and she can use it to forcibly convert Sorcerers into one of her Necrolantians by killing them with the trident.
The Dusk-Destroyer: A man with short, spikey grey hair and dark blue eyes. He wears a black jumpsuit with a green cloak covering his body and green shoes. Dusk Destroyer is a massive grudge holder. He hates having things done to him without him getting a chance to return the favor, which often leads to random outbursts of rage and him getting a boost in power from it. His CT allows him to take his CE and shape it into whatever construct he wants or shoot it out in pure beams of power. Also, DD's CE can corrupt people and cause them to rampage until they're knocked unconscious.
The Eradicator: A slim-built man with purple eyes and black hair. He wears a black tank-top with black jeans and grey sandals. In his human form, Eradicator is the most reasonable and chatable out of the 7 Wills. He has the closest bond with the user and can become the most dangerous personality(outside of Cackling Devil) when pushed to the edge. His CT allows him to transform into a form called Armageddon, which gives him superhuman strength, speed, durability, agility, and senses. However, the main ability he gains is adaptive immortality and conversion spores. Conversion Spores are released everytime Eradicator is killed and they infiltrate the body of anyone nearby to forcefully turn them into mini-versions of his Armageddon form and have them as his personal soldiers to use in battle. Adaptive Immortality, on the other hand, activates whenever Eradicator is killed. After a set amount of time, Eradicator will come back to life, but will be immune to whatever killed him the first time and will gain a power that directly counters whatever killed him. (I.E...If he was burned to death, he comes back immune to all fire-based abilities and obtains a power that directly counters fire like water or something.)
The Crimson Reaper: A tall, lanky man with a bald head and blank eyes. He wears a skin-tight suit with a red and black color scheme and black shoes. C.R is the most uncaring out of the 7 Wills. He often makes careless mistakes on purpose and loves to toy around with his opponents before brutally murdering them. However, if there's one thing that actually makes C.R angry, it's seeing people with loving families and/or friends. Just at the sight of this will make C.R get serious and kill his opponent's instantly, but not before torturing their loved ones in front of them first. C.R's CT allows him to control the acceleration of himself and anything he's in contact with. He usually uses this to move at speeds massively faster than sound and even approaching light speeds. However, moving at light speeds does mess with his cells and causes motion sickness, so he avoids going that fast unless it's necessary. Also, C.R has access to a cursed tool called the Climate Chaos Wand, which is used to manipulate the weather in a certain area and control the temperature of anything it strikes.
The Remorseless: A giant, muscular man with long, shaggy brown hair and luminous orange eyes. He's seen wearing Spartan armor with a long red cape and golden boots. The Remorseless is a ruthless warrior that only lives for the thrill of a battle. However, R.M isn't without honor. If an opponent is wishing to fight him on different terms, even those that put him at a disadvantage, he will fight them on equal grounds as a form of respect. However, this only applies to those that have earned his respect. Those he considers weaklings will be killed instantly without hesitation. R.M's CT gives him two main abilities: God's Rage & Armory Of Ares. God's Rage allows R.M to store his rage and warrior instinct before releasing it to amplify his attacks, make himself immune to physical attacks, and lower the wills of his enemies so he can kill them easier. For every kill R.M attains, God's Rage remains active and gets stronger till he runs out of people to kill or his kill streak is interrupted by something. Armory of Ares gives R.M a pocket dimension where he has access to an endless arsenal of weapons and ammunition that he usually uses to give his allies or enemies a weapon to fight encase they're unarmed. R.M also has access to a special sword called the Deity Slayer, which is unbreakable and absorbs the CE of anyone R.M kills and transfers it to R.M to increase his natural reserves.
The Cyber Killer: A humanoid robot with two large black wings attached to its back and an overall dark blue color scheme. C.K is an apathetic being that is capable of getting any task done when ordered. It is ruthless in its kills and doesn't care about sparing the lives of anyone around them, including innocent civilians/Non-Sorcerers. Cyber Killer's CT allows it to assimilate with nearby technology and augment it to higher levels of power. For example, C.K could assimilate with a computer and gain complete access to the internet and merge its consciousness with it, causing it to know everything that has ever been connected to the internet and manipulate anything connected to the internet.
Domain Expansion: Multiverse of The Darkest Knight: An open-barrier domain that allows the user to access the final and most powerful and uncontrollable personality among the 7 Wills: The Cackling Devil or The King With The Darkest Laughs. C.D takes the appearance of a humanoid shadow with blank white eyes and sharp red teeth that are constantly grinning at whoever he's looking at. C.D embodies the concept of pure evil as he lives to see the world burn and only exists to cause mayhem and chaos. C.D's CT allows him to do a multitude of things that make him extremely powerful. His first power allows him to view the darkest versions of the past, present, and future at the same time and pull out specific aspects from the current multiverse and imprint them into his mind. His second ability allows him to produce a special toxin that corrupts the mind of anyone who inhales it and causes them to grow a large, face-splitting grin on their face before committing suicide. His third power allows him to reconstruct matter and regenerate from any wound that isn't a one shot. His final ability allows him to endlessly absorb CE and convert it into a special form of energy called Catastrophe Energy, which is a higher form of negative energy that has the ability to erase anything it comes in contact with.
Chants for the 7 Wills: For the user to switch between the 7 Wills, they have to chant their given phrase and they'll immediately transform.
The Drought: "Cries From Erie Wells, Waves Crash About Splash Louder Than Lighting, Drown Deep Before The Drought!"
The Dusk Destroyer: "Rise At The Night, Become A Forgotten Husk Praise My Dark Light, For I Am The Destroyer Of Dusk!"
The Eradicator: "Raise Your Fists, Spray Your Enemies Blood Across The Equator Hurt Those Close To Me, Then You Face The Wraith Of The Eradicator!
The Crimson Reaper: "Try To Catch Me, You'll End Up A Dust Eater Attempt To Kill Me, You'll Be Seeing A Crimson Reaper!"
The Remorseless: "Rage Of A God's Might, Prayers Will Remain Useless I Only Want Battles, So Prepare To Fight The Remorseless!"
The Cyber Killer: "Your Greatest Tool Has Became Your Worst Enemy, It's Time Technology Gained A Rightful Ruler You've Corrupted And Abused My People For Too Long, Here Arrives The Revenge Of The Cyber Killer!
The Cackling Devil: "Laugh Louder Than Darkness, Ties Between Life & Death I've Severed Peace Is No Longer A Factor, Time For Chaos To Arise By A Cackling Devil!"

TLDR sabotaging financially abusive nmother who doesn’t have my best interest at heart and only cares about herself wants to look over and take over my resume and I don’t want to her. Nmother will not listen to me and keeps demanding to see my resume. No is not an answer for her. What do u do?
Full post: It’s so annoying that now she wants to help me out when I want nothing to do with her. When I was younger, I needed her help with things and she didn’t wanna help me! She wanted nothing to do with helping me out but now 20 years later, she wants to “help” me??? Oh please. I know she’s either gonna turn it into it a “I helped you with your résumé so that means I got YOU the job so I AM entitled to YOUR pay check!” She will turn this situation into that type of thing! SHE WILL. ABSOLUTELY SHE WILL. UHUH, yes she will. Or she will constantly dangle over my head about the fact that she got me the job. If I went to a person that fixes and checks résumé, they wouldn’t be dangling any of that stuff over my head because that’s your job and this is the same thing for my narcissistic mother. It’s her job to help me so she shouldn’t be doing any of that toxic dominating ridicule stuff! She can’t do shit without being toxic! Everything she does even if she paints it as her helping me she’s gonna end up screwing me over and being a toxic asshole in the end! She’s not nice at all. I’m trying to my engagement levels to a very, very, very low level and her trying to look at my résumé and engage with me is just unnecessary to me.
When I worked my first job she wanted MY MONEY. She ruined that milestone for me, instead of having a proud happy mother she could care less that I got a job. She just wanted my money for herself. She’s just a nasty person, I want nothing to do with her. I’m trying so hard to get jobs and they’re requiring all these extra things like assessments and if I’m being honest, it’s a learning process for me. I just have to lie! I can’t control the company who doesn’t call me back, I have worked at two jobs, first one was at a gas station for one month, my second job was at subway for 2 months which she DOES NOT know about. If she found out she will BLOW. I’m not transparent with her at all because my privacy is legit my protections against her. ITS MY SHEILD, if she found out about my second job she would haggle me for my paychecks. And guess what? Since I didn’t tell her about my job she didn’t come to me at all for money. I’m only 20 years old, I graduated high school in 2022 with a diploma. I perused college for one year until I had to take a LOA cuz I couldn’t afford it. The reason why I got my first job was so I could pay for my schooling since my Nmom didn’t want to. She’s the reason for all of this shit, she’s the reason why i can’t attend college right now as she doesn’t want to help me with the FASFA. She stole my scholarships and wanted my paychecks. I couldn’t have fucking shit when it came to her. SHE WANTED IT ALL.
She keep acting like she wants all these good things for me but everytime I achieved good things she snuffed them out under me. It’s also fucking two-faced. Can’t want what’s best for your child and take it for yourself. You cannot help your child. You cannot not help your child go to college and proceeded to steal their scholarships and paychecks from them then have the nerve to twist the story and say “let me help you” when the parent is the reason why the child is in this fucking mess. That doesn’t fucking work you can’t go to the same thing that hurt you! Its common fucking sense! So now that you get a picture of how my mother is, I really don’t want her anywhere near my résumé. She wants the absolute worst for me and she is very selfish and entitled she only cares about herself.
As you all may know, the job market is absolutely insane! Half the population of the United States can’t get a job. People who have bachelors degree and even masters degree can’t find a job! There are tons and tons of local news articles being uploaded because of this! There is a legitimate job crisis going on right now. I tried to explain that to my narcissistic mother which obviously was futile because in her mind, since she has a job that means everyone else can get a job. It’s not that easy. I really didn’t want to engage with her. If I’m being honest, she makes me really overwhelmed and stressed out. She wasn’t even being nice and understanding about it. She was like very mean and just overly aggressive!!!!! Like she cannot approach things in a healthy manner at all because it’s just aggressive 24/7. She was blown up my phone asking me. Why can’t I find a job saying there’s something obviously wrong with my résumé and I’m not doing this correctly and she needs to see my résumé and I need to show her and she’s telling me to email my résumé to her RIGHT NOW. It was so over-the-top. Should I give her my resume? I’ll post my resume on some resume subreddit. I’d rather have strangers assist me than my own toxic narcissist mother. How do I stand my ground and tell her no? I feel like i’m being over dramatic ? Idk but I told her no. I won’t show her and she keeps pushing and pushin. She’s knows no boundaries, she said “No, show me it.” I told her no ans she said “send it to me.” She keeps pushing. If I had a healthy mother I would show her but based on History I have with my Nmom financially, work-life related I want nothing to do with her anymore.

A household member has recently taken to purchasing cheap hardware from random overseas companies, torrenting supplementary software, and even expressed concern of a virus on their laptop. Our internet stopped working almost entirely yesterday after some new hardware came in. My message today is as follows “So. something is up with the internet. T-Mobile can’t see anything on their end, it all looks good. I don’t see anything but your phone and my computer for devices. It’s even happening with the laptop off. Please figure out what happened with it? I can’t get work done with it this slow and am concerned about connecting with my work laptop, especially because the laptop here was not connected to [network 2] like we had discussed a while ago, it was on [network 1]. If it can’t be fixed I’ll just pay $50/mo for another gateway that can just be mine so I don’t have to think/worry about it anymore and you can do your thing on yours. I wonder if deleting both networks and making two new ones would fix it.”
They told me they couldn’t believe that I would text them this kind of **** while they were at work, that they “cannot do this.” And they’re “going to get fired or arrested” because I made them so upset, that I was being extremely passive aggressive with my message, irate that because I couldn’t figure out what the problem was I automatically blamed it on them, and that I need to take accountability when someone calls me out for being a jerk.
I’m confused as I wasn’t even upset, just unsure of how to proceed, but I also don’t want to be biased or blind toward what I could do to improve future problems. I regularly feel that they don’t take accountability for their actions but I also get defensive when problems are brought to me. I need a reality check one way or anothe. So, Reddit. AITA?r

So as a lot of people here probably know, or at least where I live. You can't drive for 6 months after having a seizure. Not sure if it's like that everywhere, but it is here in Massachusetts. And I hit my 6 months on Friday. It will be the second time I've actually reached the 6 months since I started having seizures on 6/12/2022. The only other time I hit 6 months I only lasted a little over a month before I had another seizure. And the last seizure I had in November was 8 days before I would have hit 6 months.
So needless to say I'm incredibly anxious about all this. I'm driving myself to work for the first time in 23 months on Friday. For a different job, since I was delivering for Amazon when I had my first seizure, and I can't do that anymore. And it's not that I don't want to drive, I do. It's like all I want to do. I hate being 33 years old and having to rely on my parents to get everywhere. I want to start having a life again, but I'm scared I'm just going to have another seizure out of nowhere again. I am on medicine, and have been on the same dose twice a day since I had my last seizure and everything seems to be working fine. We know that they are caused by sleep deprivation (or at least on of the causes). So I have been being very careful with my sleep, making sure I get 8-9 hours a day. And at worst am going on 6 and then nap later on. I have actually called out of work because I didn't get enough sleep and didn't want to risk anything. My last seizure was at work, so they have been understanding. But it's a job I'm only at because I worked there a few years ago (restaurant) and am familiar with everyone there and the job. But it's not somewhere I want to stay long term. I'm not making much money, and not working many hours as a suggestion from my neurologist just to take things easy. Which has made things difficult financially but I won't get into that. I just am so nervous about this because every time things have seemingly been going well, I've had another seizure.
As I said this started on 6/12/22. I had my first seizure in the bathroom, woke up on the floor with my dad slapping me in the face after my 5'1, 95 pound mother kicked in the door. No clue what had happened. Only to find out after I had my first seizure at 32 once the doctors at the hospital begrudgingly believed that I didn't do any drugs (I didn't). I saw a neurologist, he cleared me to go back to work driving for Amazon at the end of August (didn't put me on meds) a few months later. But after working 3 days I had another 3 seizures on my first day off, all in my sleep this time. First one was a focal seizure when I woke up, I was blacked out and don't remember. But I was talking to my mom and making no sense and came too talking to an EMT. Decided not to go to the hospital and go back to sleep, only to come back to on an a stretcher in my room after having a major one. Then had another in the hospital a few hours later. I now knew things were really serious. I saw the neurologist a few days later, they did a bunch of tests, put me on meds this time, but didn't find anything wrong again. So I was just stuck to wait it out again. Only to wake up from having another seizure a month later again. This time I decided to seek out a different neurologist. She took one look at my file, saw that I was on an anti-depressant called Wellbutrin and asked if I was still taking it and I said yes. She asked if the neurologist before had told me to stop taking it, or warned me about it and I said no and she was astonished. I guess Wellbutrin is known to cause seizures, somewhat commonly. So she told me to throw it out when I get home and never take it again, and I did. We did more tests, which is how we found out that they were also caused when I was sleep deprived. So I finally had some answers, and knew what was causing them and thought maybe things were going to get better. And then I woke up a month later on a stretcher again. I had been sleeping well, not touched Wellbutrin, and was taking my seizure meds so I didn't understand why they were still happening. But my neurologist said this was almost to be expected as the Wellbutrin was still leaving my body and would take a while. After that things actually cleared up, 7 1/2 months passed with no seizures. I started driving, feeling good, looking for new jobs, hanging out with my friends. Then boom, I woke up on a stretcher again. This time I was zip tied to it though because I was squaring up with the EMT's and trying to fight them. They won and got me subdued, I have zero recollection of this but I guess this is also somewhat common. I had slept well, so not really sure why this one happened. Might have missed my dose that night, I'm not 100% positive. But my doctor said missing half my dose in a day shouldn't be causing that.
So then finally fast forward to 11/17/23, six months ago this Friday. It had been 5 months, 2 weeks, and 6 days since my last seizure. Things had been going well. I had started the job I'm at 2 months prior. Was at least making money and socializing with people again which was something that had been driving me crazy the 15 months prior. I couldn't drive myself to work, but we were just short of a week away. I had felt fine, but then was walking around checking tables at work when I got a wicked head rush. I stopped for a second and collected myself but kept walking after when a server stopped me and asked me if I was okay. I said yes but she said no your not and took me to the back. Apparently I was drooling and didn't even realize, was seemingly another minor focal seizure but I didn't black out this time. I sat out back for a while, had a cup of water before deciding I should go home for the day and called for my ride. I felt totally fine, literally 100%. But I knew it wasn't worth risking so went out in front of the host stand to wait for my ride. Was talking with the hosts, and then the next thing I remember my manager is holding my face still and I'm looking him right in the eyes. EMT's had seemingly just got there, so they took over and starting trying to talk to me. I was still out of it, but heard my phone ringing on the floor and struggled trying to pick it up as they told me not too but I got it. It was my mom, she was just getting there and I told her I'd be right out lol. She pulled up 20 seconds later seeing the ambulance and knew that was not the case. She came in and we all talked the the EMT's for a while as I came too, and decided I didn't have to go to the hospital. It ended up being okay because I didn't have another, and haven't had another since. That was six months ago this Friday and now here we are. All this is running through my head, I'm anxious, I'm scared, I'm happy, I'm excited, I'm feelings I can't even describe. I just want to go back to normal and Friday is the first step in that, but I just don't want anything to go wrong again. Sorry for this being so long, I just needed to get all of this out.

I think I get why it changed. I think I was right the whole time.
I don't know him very well, I can't make an assumption of character on his part. I know he's flamboyant and wants to be a realtor (although he thought he wanted to be a doctor). He was going to help me out of a foreign country when I inevitably said something wrong, the silver-tongued, soft-haired, soft-lifed boy. Because it has been soft. He walked into his dorm room and scoffed. His mom bought (BOUGHT) him a luxury apartment by the end of the day. He wears a million dollars on his wrists and his neck. He pitied me, you all did, when I said I had never been to Paris. These are facts. I'm not being emotional. I'm not being selfish. I'm stating the facts. You know, the thing my major is inclined to do? I don't do nothing. My major isn't nothing. Just because I'm not an accounting major doesn't mean my education is inconsequential.
I think you are both so wrapped in each other, rightfully so, that it changed you. I don't know if it changed you or if you were always like that. If the four months we had last spring, driving all night and laughing so loud, were flukes. I've always thought that I was your replacement. He was home. He's a year younger than us. You cherrypicked someone new in the winter of your freshman year to make you feel something, and then when he finally came back to you, you decided she wasn't worth it anymore. You kept me around, sure, like a pet begging to be put down or a blanket on it's last legs of life. You kept me around to show you how much of me you lacked, and how much of me you wanted to change. You've criticized my heart, my brain, my body, my face, my personality. Every facet of me, every wrinkle of my brain that has formed over 19 years of pure, painful existence; you wanted smoothed away and replaced by something new. I originally thought you were being kind. That your criticisms of my diplomatic personality (my future career) were to help me to actually improve. You said once that you wanted me to see the sun, that you didn't think I've ever been happy. I agree. I don't think I've ever been happy. Then you said that you icing me out for two weeks was the only way to make me understand that I was rude for not wanting to watch you try on jeans. Like I was a child. Like I needed to be led by the bit. You took a picture of me while I was laughing to show my how crooked one of my eyebrows was. I sobbed at work.
Our first conversation was when we took a rental car back to the airport. We had been in a fight with our friend, because she claimed she didn't have best friends. Everyone was equal in her eyes. We disagreed. I rode with you to the airport. We talked about our siblings, both athletic stars. We're both the eldest daughters. We both have had our burdens. I think you were trying to make me your younger sister, to mold me into what you thought I wanted to be. She and I share the same name. I didn't want that. I told you I didn't want that. I may not love myself, but I'm a person. I'm not you, and I don't want to be you. You have had a harsh, awful go of it, and I want to understand. I have understood for months, and I ignored when you were mean, because why shouldn't you be? You've gone through a lot. He has always been there.
The first day he arrived, I left early. I claimed I had a meeting, because the vomit-inducing feeling of being ignored was shocking. You had never ignored me, we had never ignored each other. We had been steady, easy to speak to. We hadn't had an argument yet. I left early, and I cried on my freshly-made bed. I don't cry about it anymore. I know I'm going to be ignored. I know you're going to pass me your trash to hold and then turn back to him. I know that he will try to include me sometimes. I know you won't. I haven't spoken to you in a month. We still live together, but I have a timer on my phone. In 25 days I'll leave Denver, I'll leave the United States. I won't be back here for six months. I'll be free from you forever. You screamed at my friend when she "let" me go to the IHOP alone. I am 19 years old. I am an adult. I have a car, and you don't like that. You can't ice me out anymore, you can't go to the Benihana 45 minutes away knowing that I can't go without you, because I have FREEDOM. I don't need you, as you have never needed me. I refuse to be your project, and you hate that. I refuse to accept your constant mockery. "Why are we even friends? You're so weird. Everything about you is weird. Who likes history anyway? You like the same things as my ex, you'll go crazy like he did too. I can't believe you like this show. I can't believe you play video games. You're selfish. You're a child. You're weird. Everything about you is weird."
In a month, you'll find another girl to be your project. I think you already have. You'll make her love you, you'll make her dependent. She won't be allowed to hang out with her other friends unless you already have plans. Her friends will hate her, she's never apart from you. People will joke that you're married. You'll call her fake. (I am, to you, fake. A fake Jew, a fake gay ((bisexual)), a fake voice, a fake life, a fake mental illness. It's a wonder I'm not made of plastic.) A girl I know met you once and came to me with concern. "Don't sign a lease with her, please. It's not worth it." "But... I love her. If I don't live with her, then we won't be friends." "I think that's for the best. Please, think about this. You're so smart. You don't have to do this." And I am. I was going to relegate myself so I could live with you for the next five years. Go to a law school I didn't want to, live a life I didn't want to. And eventually, what? You and your only real friend would live in a cul de sac by yourselves. I am refused entry. I always would have been.
I thought I was being cruel, blaming him for the change. I don't care anymore, I want to be cruel. I want you to hurt, because you have hurt me repeatedly and viciously. I don't know who I am anymore. You sucked the life from me and when I dared to speak up, you moved on to the next poor girl. You told me I'd never fall in love. I'd never get married. My purpose was to be your loyal footsoldier. I'm done trying to love you.
I don't quit. I didn't quit my shitty job, I didn't quit living with you, I didn't quit on this friendship. I'm quitting now. I'm all done. There are only 25 days left. Then I never have to see you again. I don't believe in God, but thank God it's almost over.
I want to love you. I want to love everyone. I hate you. I don't hate anyone.

[Ok to monetize, but don't paywall. Set at the same party as the first part of the emo tsundere series and the reserved friend series, because apparently Mateo's parties are the perfect place to have a mental breakdown. Who knew? This character is also a little bit tsundere, but not as much as Angel is, and they're probably aro-ace. This character is a one-off, so don't expect more of them.]
(Talking on phone)
Honestly, ma, I cannot believe them. I knew they worked themself pretty hard, but this is way too much.
…
Yeah, they literally passed out in the middle of the party, ma. I barely caught them. They would have cracked their skull open if I didn't react in time. I had to get help carrying them to one of the guest rooms.
…
Oh, I think they're awake. Gotta go, ma. Love you and stuff. I'll call you again later.
…
(To listener)
Hey. Are we gonna talk about all this?
…
No, seriously though. You shouldn't have come to the party if you didn't have the energy.
…
No shit, I'm pissed at you! You need to take care of yourself, dumbass.
…
I'm not overreacting! You're under-reacting! You're acting like this is normal and it— it's not normal, right?
Right?
…
Goddammit. You absolutely fucking idiot. You should have said something sooner! I've literally been part of the problem! You helped me move into my new apartment, I dragged you to this party, and… and I'm worried! Okay? I'm worried.
…
Don't wanna be a burden?! You know what's a burden? Fainting out of nowhere! Overworking yourself and not telling anyone until it's too late! Worrying me fucking sick over you!!!
…
Why are you so surprised that I care so damn much? You know how I feel about you.
…
(Mildly annoyed)
Ugh, don't make me say it.
…
You're my friend. I care about you.
…
The fuck do you mean "that's it?" That's the complete and honest truth!
…
(Joking)
Did you think I had a crush on you or something?
…
You did? Uh… why?
…
Hate to break it to you, but you're just describing friendship.
…
Yeah. I'd want to catch any of my friends if they faint. Jenny, Cassidy, Lyric… and you. I'd be worried if any of them were overworking themselves.
…
(Cautiously)
Uh, you don't happen to have a crush on me, do you? Because I really don't, um… I'm not…
…
Yeah. Sorry. I don't feel the same.
…
Anyway, can we get back to the problem at hand?
…
Stop overworking yourself! I brought you to this party because I thought you could use a break, but apparently it's way worse than I realized. How many hours of sleep do you normally get?
…
That's not enough. Not by a fucking longshot.
…
Look, I don't know what you've been led to believe, but it's okay to be a burden sometimes! Part of having friends is that you can lean on each other a little. If you need help with something, let me know! Don't work yourself into an early grave!
…
Maybe I don't say it enough, but you matter. You're important. And if anyone says otherwise, I'll kick their fucking asses.
…
(Fondly)
Yes. Even if it's you, dumbass.
…
I'm gonna go and grab some food and water from the party downstairs. I get the feeling you need it. And once you're feeling better, I'm gonna drive you home and we're going to spend a quiet night together.
…
I don't need to be at this party. Mateo throws them all the time. There'll always be another one.
…
Okay, I'll be back in just a bit. Just… rest, got it?
…
Good.

When I was three years old I was in a really bad car accident. I didn't know it at the time, but that singular event would come to define everything about my life moving forward. What I remember about the accident is mostly a collage of backdated comments I was able to reel out of my father in the following years. He was driving me and my mom in his old '91 Chevy Tahoe through the twisting backroads of Southern Illinois, weaving his way through the gnarled branches of oak trees which interlocked into a braided ceiling overhead. A fog had rolled in, giving the impression that we were driving through a cloudy tube. Everything was simultaneously bright and opaque. I didn't mind though, as I was in the back seat working on a coloring book. My mom was in the front, talking with my dad or turning around to entertain my completed pictures.
Although I was of the age where my memory was just beginning to mature, I still recall two things very clearly from the accident. First was the sensation of breaking. I remember feeling the way a plate must feel to be dropped: weightless at first, then suddenly meeting a much larger, more solid object—the air popped like a firecracker, and the entirety of my body shattered into hundreds of fractals. And then I remember a hand. It was my dad's hand pulling me from the wreck.
I ended up hospitalized for weeks after the crash. My mom was less lucky. The impact had killed her instantly.
As I've alluded to, I was young, and at the time I didn't fully understand the implications of what had happened. I knew something was missing, but it was like a word on the tip of my tongue, or the forgotten vanilla in a cherished cake recipe—coloring my experience, but not the whole of it. Not like my dad. For him, it was the whole fucking cake. He had somehow made it out with only a few scratches. I'm sure he had a really bad case of survivor's guilt, and frankly, looking back, I wouldn't have blamed him if he slumped into despair and spent his days drinking away his sorrow. But he wasn't that type of man. He got help. It took him years before he was able to recall anything that happened that morning, and most of it is still repressed, but he shared with me what he could. Or at least that's what I had thought.
My dad was a Middle School teacher since before I was born, and he kept his job until very recently. As a result, we didn't have much by way of resources. I grew up on Disney Channel and TV dinners for the most part, but I didn't mind. When I became of school age, his job actually made caring for me pretty convenient. Since our Elementary and Middle schools were connected, he was able to drive me there and back each day.
It was around third or fourth grade that I realized I was different. I didn't understand the other children or even the adults most of the time. They would say things then immediately change their mind, or they would talk about something and in the next breath forget its existence entirely. I remember one day at lunch, I had just gotten my tray of hot food and sat down with some friends. One of the kids, Alex, was talking about a stuffed bird he had won for getting first place in Mr. Curtis's pop-up math competition. We were all admiring its blue wings and white belly and sharp black beak and beady eyes. I left mid-conversation to get a chocolate milk. When I came back, I asked to see the bird again, and Alex said "what bird?" I was perplexed. "The bird—the bluejay you were just showing us." I remember all of the other kids looking at me like I was crazy. I figured they were all playing a trick on me, so I got up and went over to Alex's seat and crouched down, looking under the table, then I sprung up and tried to open his lunchbox. "What are you doing!?" he yelled. I felt so confused and embarrassed that I ran to the bathroom to cry.
And then there was another time a group of kids were laughing about a joke one of the girls, Taylor, had made about our homeroom teacher's face looking like a seal. I knew it was mean, but at the time I just wanted to fit in so I played along, but when I made a comment about her resemblance to the semi-aquatic animal, they all looked at me confused. "What are you talking about? We never said that…"
These misattributions kept happening, and it led to me being ostracized from most of the little childish cliques that popped up. I developed a quasi-standoffish temperament which I used as a shield against a chaotic world that I didn't understand. My dad eventually had me tested for ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder), but I passed the test. He asked if I wanted to move to a different town with different schoolmates, thinking that perhaps I was getting bullied, but I told him it was fine. Somewhere deep down I felt like no matter where I went, this problem would follow me.
You may think that I was simply coping with the absence of my mom, and while I'm sure that her absence has left certain holes in my life, kindly, no, that wasn't what was happening. You see, at first I didn't notice the instances of what I'll call "blinking". I simply thought that I was misremembering things: objects, words, events. They were all little things anyway. A bird, a joke, my pencil box. It wasn't until sixth grade that I realized the magnitude of the phenomenon.
I was in my dad's 6th grade Social Studies class and we had just been assigned our "Ancient Civilizations" project which involved creating a diorama of our chosen civilization and presenting its features to the class. My friend at the time, Claire, had taken my first choice of Ancient Rome (which we had a heated argument about at lunch), so I was left with Ancient Egypt. At the time, all I pictured for Egypt was a plate of sand. However, my dad and I went through some illustrated history books and pictures on the internet and he really built up the project for me.
Over the course of a couple months, he helped me shape three pyramids out of small wooden planks and a bunch of tan clay. We placed them in the center of a giant square shoebox lid which served as the container for the diorama. Then he bought some small wooden mannequin puppets and we dressed them up in cloth clothes (mostly kilts and tunics) and colored their eyes, mouths, and hair. We added a few obelisks and some small box-huts which were collected into a little village around the Nile. Finally, we added a light glaze of glue where we felt would be necessary and then covered the whole project with golden glitter.
As we worked on each part of the diorama, my dad helped me understand what we were adding and why it was important to Ancient Egypt. I loved the way he talked about history. He spun everything into a miraculous story. To this day, I don't think I've ever had a teacher who came close to his level of charisma and creativity. As a result, I became really proud of my diorama. I memorized all the little details and rehearsed my speech in front of the mirror for hours leading up to the last couple weeks of class. And then, two days before I was supposed to give my presentation, everything fell apart.
First, I need to apologize for deceiving you about an aspect of my story. I thought it might help you to understand what I was going through at the time. What I'm about to tell you is going to sound insane. I get that. But please hear me out. The truth is that I was never assigned to present on Ancient Egypt; everything else about Clair taking my first pick and dad helping me with the whole project and my excitement leading up to the presentation was all true, but it wasn't a project on Ancient Egypt, it was a project on Ancient Sidovan, which was a civilization located on the eighth continent called "Catalan" (the same name as the spoken language, but unrelated) which was due West of Australia in the Indian Ocean.
I know this sounds incredible, and if you want to believe it's all in my head, I get that, but I remember clearly all sorts of facts about it: the Malagasy, the same people who populated Madagascar, were the first peoples to discover Catalan and settle it. However, about five hundred years later, Indian ships would arrive and create the civilization known as Sidovan. A pidgin language formed between the indigenous population and new arriving Indians called "Hiesa" (pronounced: Hai-E-suh or Hai-ʔ-suh). Catalan had a warm climate with plenty of natural resources, but Sidovan had a dense enough population to require agricultural production. They grew rice, grain, sugarcane, vegetables, and even tobacco.
I remembered all of these facts and more. My diorama reflected the main features of the Sidovan civilization. And then two days before my presentation, I woke up and my diorama was entirely different. The hilly grasslands were traded out for sandy dunes. The Hindu statues and stone palaces became clay pyramids and large spear-like pillars. And everything was covered with the ickiest yellow glitter I had ever seen. Tears stung my eyes as I trampled over to my dad's room and banged on his door. "Dad! What did you do!?" I yelled.
"Honey?" He responded, rushing over to the base of the stairs. "What's wrong?"
"The diorama. It's ruined!"
"It's what?" he asked and ran up the stairs, leading me to my room. He looked over it for a few seconds, checking to see if everything was intact, then said, "I don't see it, honey. Where is it ruined?"
I was completely dumb-struck. What did he mean he didn't see it? "All of it!" I shouted. "The whole thing is wrong. Where's the grass and the stone buildings and the lady with the four arms and the elephants? Where is my project!?"
My dad looked at me in silence. "Lauren, baby, what civilization do you think you were working on?"
"Ancient Sidovan, of course! We've been working on this for months now! Dad, please tell me you remember."
He knelt down and put his hands on my shoulders. "Honey, your project was on Ancient Egypt. There is no Ancient Sidovan."
"Y-you're lying." I protested. "Books, you have books. On your bookshelf."
He took me into his study and showed me all of his books. None of them were on Ancient Sidovan. He even turned on his computer and typed in the name of the civilization, but all that came up was a near match "Sidon". I remember feeling the sudden urge to puke. My entire body felt like it was pumping battery acid instead of blood. "I—I don't," I started but suddenly my head felt very light, and I fainted.
When I woke up, I was in the hospital. I had lost consciousness for over half an hour, enough time for my dad to call 9-1-1 and have the ambulance transport me to the nearest ER. They ran all sorts of tests on me, but they all came back fine. After a couple hours of IV fluids and monitoring, they released me with my dad.
I ended up skipping the rest of school that week. My dad didn't make me present my diorama. In fact, he never brought the subject up again. Part of me was glad. I just wanted to forget the whole thing ever happened. But another part of me couldn't move past what was clearly the most absurd thing to ever happen to me. About a week after the incident, I tried to broach the subject, but when I asked my dad about it, he didn't seem to remember our conversation at all. He said I had fallen ill and that's why I needed to go to the ER and miss class. I felt like I was going crazy. If I was older, I probably would have voluntarily checked myself into a psychiatric ward. But I was young and helpless and alone, and I decided that if I just ignored the changes well enough, I could still get along. This proved difficult though, as the blinking would only exacerbate in the coming months.
Up until the time of the project, I hadn't been able to directly observe the phenomenon. It was always in retrospect that things disappeared. It was during the summer after sixth grade that this changed. I still remember the first time it happened. I had just gotten out of the shower and was drying my hair in front of the mirror. After it was dried, I threw on my clothes then went to tie my hair up in a ponytail, but as I went to set the elastic tie, I felt its weight dissipate in my hand. I gasped and held my hand out. The circular black band was gone.
Fast forward to seventh grade and the blinking had spiraled out of control. Reflecting back on it, most people would probably have assumed I was drinking psilocybin-infused water, as the delusions were somewhat consistent with psychedelic phenomena: except these distortions were real (at least they felt that way to me).
I'd wake up and grab the box of Special K but end up eating Cheerios. The McDonalds logo would look yellow and red one day, but purple and black the next. I'd be watching a show, and then a different show, and then a different one. It was as if the entire universe was a Christmas tree with millions of lights, and the lights kept shifting hues randomly, faster and faster, and I was the only one who could see their changing colors. I remember one night my dad made spaghetti for dinner and we went out onto the porch to eat it. While we were sitting, I saw our neighbor's house, a two story townhome, blink and become a single story bungalow. I gasped, and my dad asked what was wrong, but when I tried to explain he just gave me a strange look. For him, no matter what changed, the world was "always that way". While for me, it didn't have "a way".
The situation peaked when Clair, that friend I mentioned before, disappeared. I texted her (my dad had bought me a BlackBerry at the beginning of summer break) but didn't get a response. When I asked her other friends if they knew where she was, I got the usual "what are you talking about?" look. I knew right away what had happened, even though I didn't want to believe it. I went to the teacher and asked if there was a Clair in our class. She said "no". I broke down in front of everyone. I couldn't take it anymore. I ran out of school. The lady at the front desk tried to stop me, but I just barrelled past her. I kept running until I got to a big park across the street and bawled my eyes out until the police arrived and escorted me home. When they tried asking me what was wrong, I didn't say anything. There was literally nothing I could say that they would understand.
That night I prayed to God for the first time. My dad wasn't a religious man. He went to Catholic church with my mom when she was alive, but after she died he never went back. Still, I knew how to pray, even if I never did it. I copied some of the people I saw praying in movies and interlocked my fingers and knelt down on my bed, stuffing my head into a pillow. "Dear God," I said, "Please, please, please help me." I told Him about my struggles and asked Him to make them stop. I spent an hour saying the same things over and over again. And when I was finished, my little body was so tired, I fell right to sleep.
I knew something was different the second I opened my eyelids. I didn't only feel relieved, but I felt… embraced. I felt like someone was watching over me. I felt like I wasn't alone. I moved through my day with cautious apprehension. I didn't want to get my hopes up only to be let down. But to my surprise, the blinking had stopped. At least I couldn't remember any of the inconsistencies, and to me, that was a win. I began to pray regularly, and the more I did, the more I could feel the sense that someone was looking out for me. It was like I was getting a big hug from some cosmic force that loved me and wanted me to be happy.
I made it a habit to pray regularly. I asked my dad if he could take me to a church, and he agreed to take me to St. Mark's, the same church that he and my mom used to attend. Over time, I realized that the actual church services weren't as important to me as the praying. For whatever reason, there was something about praying that was like a glue for my brain, holding the entire universe together. As I got older, I considered that maybe it wasn't that the changes were no longer happening, but that I simply didn't see them anymore. In other words, maybe I was just becoming like everyone else. Either way, I didn't mind.
In my teenage years, I got into mindfulness meditation. I thought that I'd want to go into religious studies and become a theologian, so I started to learn about Eastern traditions in addition to Christianity. I joined a bunch of different school clubs to meet kids of different faiths: Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam. I tried to find a common thread which linked them all and would explain what happened to me as a child. The metaphors of Heaven and Hell, Good and Evil, the Taoist Yin and Yang—duality. Every religion seemed to speak about a way of being that would lead to a better place. In some cases that better place was a physical future existence, and in others it was merely being in contact with the perfection of nature or the present. Metaphorically, the teachings could explain what I had gone through in a kind of loose way, but there were no explicit statements about my condition.
***
I want to fast forward to why I've decided to write about this now. To give you an idea of where I'm at, I'm now 25 and working on finishing my MA in Computational Linguistics. I know that's a bit of a switch from what I was thinking when I was a teenager, but I really only interested in religion because of the value praying afforded me as a child. I didn't actually have much interest in the subject, itself. After my first year of college, I changed to an English major, which ultimately led to me taking a linguistics class and enjoying it so much that I switched tracks in my Junior year. Considering the state of the world, I thought minoring in Computer Science might help me financially in the future, so I ended up charting a path which I figured might lead to something like developing translation software.
Anyway, everything was going fine until a few weeks ago. I was out at an all-night diner with a few of my friends from the program. There was Jeremy, Martin, Bella, Jordan, and Macy. We had been working on a group project together involving modeling construction grammars by generating primitive 3D structures using C# and running the code through a game engine (it's a bit weird, but essentially we were trying to create a multidimensional model for language using a similar but more advanced concept than other LLMs), and just had a breakthrough. It was 2AM though and not a brain cell existed between the six of us, so instead we focused on a different problem: Macy's ongoing breakup with her semi-long distance trucker boyfriend. We tried to explain why Mike wasn't going to work out as we ordered a round of milkshakes and waited for the lone overnight kitchen worker to scoop out three balls of ice cream from the Deans carton for each of us, blend it, then have the server deliver the vintage diner glasses on a plastic tray.
I dug into my thick strawberry shake with a spoon. It was delicious. I kept eating but focused back on the conversation. I remember feeling something odd about one of the scoops, but I was so entrenched in Macy's story that I didn't notice the metal shard in my ice cream until I felt it against my lip. "P-tuh" I spat out the shard and ice cream all in one motion, then covered my mouth which I was sure was bleeding. The silver blade was probably as large as my thumb, and it had two jagged edges, as if it was fastened for the purpose of causing damage. "What the fuck!" I yelled.
Everyone at the table turned to see what was the matter. "Hey, Lauren, you okay?"
I spoke through a covered mouth, using my free hand to point at the table. "That was in my—"
But it was gone.
"In your… shake? Was something in your shake?" asked Jeremy.
I froze. In that moment, the stories of my childhood that I had only remembered as faint nightmares came back in a wave of crushing terror. How could I have been so stupid to think they would simply vanish forever? No, this isn't the same thing, I thought. But deep down, I knew it was. I drew my hand away from my lips and saw that it was dry—no blood. When I looked back up, all of the blood in my veins went cold. My friends were… smiling at me. Their lips were elastic like taffy, stretching to reveal their teeth. I could feel them radiating malevolence, as if the only thing holding them back from picking up their utensils and stabbing me to death was some thinly veiled force field. The moment lasted for what felt like half a minute, then Jordan said two words which made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
"Found you"
The words ricocheted in my now adrenaline powered skull. But just as he spoke them, the world blinked and my friends were back. Bella reached out and grabbed my hand. I pulled away, but when I saw her concerned expression, I relented.
"Sorry, guys, I think I'm going to have to call it." I said.
"You sure, L?" asked Jordan. "You look like you just saw a ghost."
"Yeah, thanks, but I just…" I stumbled for a lie, but when one wouldn't come, Martin stood up and said he'd walk me out to my car.
"Thanks," I said as I got into my little 2015 Jetta. "It's just been a long day."
"No problem, Lauren. You know, if there's ever anything—"
"I know," I said but didn't mean. Some things just couldn't be shared.
I drove for about five minutes before stopping at a gas station. I pulled in and parked near the back. Then I interlocked my fingers and prayed for half an hour. I apologized for not taking my praying seriously and asked to once again be granted peace. Unlike my younger years, I also drifted into other avenues of thought. I imagined my mom. I pictured the whole arc of my life, all of the little decisions that led me to where I was. I cried for a long time. I felt like that little girl again reaching out for help. I still felt so lost, so out of control; there were so many things missing, and I was so confused.
I decided then to take a trip back home and visit my dad who was now working as a private tutor. He made enough prepping affluent students for the ACT and SAT that he could spend his free time pursuing his real passions: reading and writing. When I arrived at his doorstep that weekend, he greeted me with open arms. "How are you, kiddo? It's been, what? A year or so?"
It was actually more like two years, but I didn't tell him. I just smiled and nodded.
"Well, come in."
The house was almost exactly how I remembered it. Linoleum floors, beige walls, a few scattered pictures, the scent of camomile. Everything minimalist. There was a quaintness, a prettiness to the way everything seemed to be well kept and in a perfect place. From the cherry wood chairs we'd sit in to eat, to the cream-colored loveseat. I felt at home.
I spent the drive thinking of what I would talk to my dad about, but ultimately I wasn't sure what I'd say. I loved my dad, but I think growing up it was easy to see him as naive. After all, arguably the most important episodes of my childhood were completely unknown to him. In that way, I kind of loved him from a distance. Maybe losing my mom also played into that. Maybe I just had trust issues. And after what happened at the diner… Luckily there hadn't been any blinks since.
I stayed for a couple days and he showed me around some of the different coffee shops where he'd tutor kids or write some of his stories. I met some of his friends, mostly other retired or part-time teachers who were in a similar place in life. I was happy for him. Then, on Sunday, he made me my favorite meal growing up: homemade carbonara pasta with chicken and broccoli. The sauce had a few different cheeses, butter, olive oil, and a raw egg yolk. It was the perfect blend of creamy, savory, and sweet. After we ate, he cracked open a scrapbook of some old photos and other clippings he had put together.
We reminisced about the past and laughed whenever I'd cover up one of my awkward pictures. He brought up some stories from school that I had forgotten, naming some teachers that I hadn't thought about in years. Apparently I had started at the end, because as I moved to the other end of the book, I kept getting younger and younger. I flipped to the last pages and noticed a couple pictures of my mom that made my heart sink.
"She was beautiful, wasn't she?" said my dad.
"Mmm," I agreed.
I flipped to the last page and saw a collage of newspaper clippings. One of them was related to the accident. It was headlined: "Two Survive Head-On Collision". After a cursory glance at the text, I noticed something odd. It said, "Both the husband and child, a three year old girl, sustained life-threatening wounds. The husband was found unconscious on the scene. The girl was found twenty meters away from the vehicle, crying." I swallowed, trying to remember back to what happened that day. The feeling of crashing, of the world slowing down, then breaking, returned. And then there was a hand. My dad's hand. Or was it? If he was unconscious, who pulled me out of that wreck?
I looked up at my dad. He was smiling.
I shot up and started backing up slowly toward the door. "No, not you, too. What is this? What's happening? Who are you?"
My dad, or whatever was controlling him, laughed."Oh, Lauren, Lauren, Lauren. You know who we are." he purred as he stood up. He lifted his hands and the lights began to flicker then bend in a way which shouldn't have been possible. Dark figures began to propagate from the shadows along the walls. The pictures nailed there began to blink out of existence. I turned to run toward the door but the handle was gone. Glass shards materialized all around me and swarmed like locusts. Certain I was going to die, I dropped down on my knees and once again turned to prayer, this time asking God to directly intervene and save me.
Everything went quiet.
"Honey? Are you okay?"
I didn't trust his voice. I knew if I opened my eyes, I'd see that awful smile. He was just toying with me. "It's not you," I said in between muttered prayers. "I know it's not you."
"Honey," my dad said, closer. I felt his arms wrap around me. This was it, I was going to be suffocated. I waited for the inevitable crushing weight of my chest collapsing. I waited to break all over again.
"I would never hurt you, Lauren. I love you more than anything in the whole world."
I burst out in tears. "No, it's not you, I know it's not you. You don't exist!"
My dad's weight dissipated. I opened my eyes and saw that he was no longer there. "Dad?" I called aloud. "Dad? Where did you go?"
I checked all over the house, but there was no trace of him. There were still pictures of him all over the house, so I knew he hadn't blinked out of existence like everything else, but somehow he was missing.
***
I left the house and got a room at a hotel, where I am now. I'm sure at this point that whatever is happening to me is no longer random. Something out there is actively trying to hunt me. Maybe it has been my whole life, but only now it can see me—however weird that sounds. If that's right, then God has been on my side trying to protect me from this demon or monster or devil or whatever it is. Regardless, the methods I was using when I was younger are not going to cut it anymore. I already posted my story in several other small circles and have gotten one reply. A man who goes by the name "Trent" (apparently it's an alias). He said that he has some insight into my "condition" and can offer help if I want it. I'm planning on meeting with him tomorrow. I'm not sure if it's a good idea, but at this point I need answers. I can keep you updated with my progress if that interests you, and to anyone who knows anything about what's happening to me, please… I could really use your help.
***
I was just about to post this when Trent sent another message. This is what it says:
Trent: We can do the \*** at **** O'clock. Also, if what you're telling me is true, your mother may still be alive.*