Friendship smiley face pattern

As the last rays of summer sun faded into dusk, I stood at the threshold of a new chapter, my heart racing with anticipation and a touch of apprehension, as I prepared to embark on my first day as a senior in high school. The familiar scent of freshly cut grass mingled with the crispness of autumn in the air, signaling the end of carefree days and the beginning of a journey filled with new challenges and opportunities. With my backpack slung over my shoulder and butterflies fluttering in my stomach, I took a deep breath, ready to step into the halls of academia, where friendships would deepen, memories would be made, and the path to my future would unfold before me. As I walked down the main hallway to my first period class, a girl I had never seen before bumped into me, as she was walking hurriedly down towards the cafe. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed, as she bent down to pick up one of my binders. “Watch where you’re going, good God.” I huffed back. “Geez… it was an acc-“ I cut her off- “You look familiar… have I met you somewhere before?” “Umm. I don’t think we’ve ever met before. Maybe you should get your vision checked.” she replied back, annoyed. “Whatever, asshole.” I sighed. “Excuse me?” She said, raising an eyebrow.” I could’ve sworn I had seen her somewhere before… maybe I was losing it. “Look, this is going to sound really, really weird, but in the near further, you’re going to be asked to play a game. You HAVE to say no, or really bad things are going to happen…” I took a step back, looking the girl up and down. “You sound schizophrenic. I’m going to class.” I said, turning back towards my classroom door. As I turned to walk away, her words echoed in my mind, a strange sense of foreboding creeping over me. But dismissing it as nonsense, I pushed through the classroom door, eager to start the day and put the strange encounter behind me. The day passed in a blur of introductions, syllabi, and catching up with friends. Yet, despite my attempts to shake off the odd encounter, the girl's warning lingered in the back of my thoughts like an unsettling whisper. As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, I found myself retracing my steps through the bustling halls. Glancing around, I caught sight of the mysterious girl disappearing into a throng of students.Curiosity gnawed at me, and against my better judgment, I followed her, weaving through the crowd until I spotted her slipping into a secluded corner of the school courtyard. Approaching cautiously, I cleared my throat, "Hey, um, sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to come off as rude." She turned to face me, her expression guarded yet somehow relieved. "It's fine," she said, her tone softening. "I understand. It's not easy to believe something so... unbelievable." I frowned, puzzled by her cryptic words. "What do you mean?" Taking a deep breath, she met my gaze squarely. "I know this sounds crazy, but I need you to listen to me. That game I mentioned earlier—it's real. And it's dangerous. People are disappearing, and I think... I think you're next." My heart skipped a beat as her words sank in, sending a chill down my spine. "What do you mean I'm next?" “I have to go. It’s Friday, I need to go pick up my little brother from school. We can talk on Monday… just, trust me.” She said, rushing towards the parking lot. As the days passed, I found myself haunted by the girl's warning, the memory of her urgent plea lingering like a ghost in the back of my mind. But try as I might to push it aside, the sense of impending doom only grew stronger with each passing moment, a shadow looming ever larger over my once-ordinary life. Sunday morning rolled around, and I was still as anxious as ever, when suddenly an option appeared in front of me. “Would you like to play Truth or Dare?” It read. I sat there for a second, absolutely dumbfounded, thinking I had completely lost it. The two options, lingering in front of me. If I were to complete all of the dares and truths, I would win.. whole million dollars!? “The dares couldn’t be that bad, especially for a million dollars, right?” I thought to myself, hovering the “yes” option. As the option appeared over her head, my heart pounded in my chest, a sickening sense of dread settling over me like a suffocating blanket. But as the stakes grew higher and the dares more dangerous, I found myself unable to resist the lure of the prize dangling just out of reach. One by one, I completed each dare. Confessing my love to my crush, licking a toilet bowl, chugging a bottle of vinegar… everything seemed, moderately alright.. the thrill of the challenge mingling with the gnawing fear that clawed at the edges of my mind. But as the night wore on and the dares grew increasingly sinister, I began to realize the true cost of my greed. Although, I had more important things on my mind. Friday once again rolled around, and the most popular guy in our school, Jackson, had invented me to his house party. This was absolutely a dream come true, but, how was I supposed to tell my mother I was going to a random frat boys party? As 6:00pm rolled around, I grabbed my keys and told my mother I was going to a movie with my friends. As she was about to reply, a new option for Truth or Dare showed, stating, “tell your mother where you’re really going.” At this point, I knew I was screwed. “Are you sure?” My mother asked. “Actually, I was invited to a party by Jackson, the new football teams quarter back.” I said, shuffling my feet. “Do you think I’m crazy? Absolutely not, you are staying home tonight!” My mother shouted back. Maybe it was for the better, after all, mother knows best, right? As 8:00 rolled around, I was sitting on my bed reading, as a new dare showed. “Sneak out and go to the party.” It read. “Well… shit. I’m screwed either way, at this rate.” I muttered, taking the screen off of my window. I grabbed my keys from my desk, and climbed out into the fresh, cold air. I made it to the party about 15 minutes later. As I took my boots off, and walked through the front door, I noticed my friend Samantha sitting next to Jackson with a group of others, drinking out of shiny, red cups. Jackson came up to greet me, handing me a strange smelling concoction. “Here, I’m sure you’ll like this!” Jackson said, cheerfully. “I’m sorry.. I’m not much of a drinker. It’s not good for you.” I stated, slightly uncomfortable. “Oh come on… look, everyone’s drinking! This is my special, everyone loves this. It has extra lime in it!” He yelled back, trying to make himself heard over the loud music playing from a speaker in the kitchen. “Alright… just a few sips, I guess.” I said, shyly taking the cup from his hand. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all, it was quite citrusy, and I love sour things. As the night went on, I continued to drink the mysterious beverages from Jackson. All seemed fine, until around 11:45pm. In a blur of flashing lights and pounding music, it happened. Someone spiked my drink, sending me spiraling into darkness as my world shattered into a million jagged pieces. When I awoke, disoriented and groggy, I found myself trapped in a nightmare of my own making. Bound to a small wooden chair, surrounded by four other girls, each one bearing the same haunted expression of terror etched into their pale faces. As the reality of our situation sunk in, a cold wave of despair washed over me, the harsh truth of my actions crashing down around me like a tidal wave. And as I stared into the darkness, the option still hanging over my head like a cruel taunt, I knew that the game was far from over. But as the hours stretched into days, and the terror of our captivity threatened to consume us whole, I clung to the fragile hope that somehow, someway, we would find a way to escape the nightmare that had become our reality. The only times we had seen the light of day, was when Jackson brought food and water down to us. And as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, we fought tooth and nail against the forces that sought to break us, forging bonds of strength and resilience that would carry us through the darkest of nights. And though the scars of our ordeal would never fully heal, we emerged from the depths of hell stronger than we ever thought possible, united in our determination to reclaim our lives and rewrite our own destinies. As the days stretched on in our captivity, each one blurring into the next in a haze of fear and uncertainty, a glimmer of hope appeared on the horizon in the most unexpected way. One day, as I sat huddled in the darkness, my mind drifting back to the events that had led me to this nightmare, a strange option materialized before my eyes, shimmering like a mirage in the desert of my despair. "Lifeline, Time travel: Go back to the first day of school," it read, its words pulsating with an otherworldly glow that seemed to beckon me closer. For a moment, I hesitated, the weight of my past mistakes bearing down on me like a crushing weight. But as I stared into the depths of the option before me, a flicker of determination ignited within me, burning bright against the darkness that threatened to consume me whole. With a trembling hand, I reached out and pressed the option, the world around me fading into a swirling vortex of light and color as time itself seemed to bend and warp around me. Within in the blink of an eye, I found myself standing once again at the threshold of a new chapter, the familiar sights and sounds of the first day of school washing over me like a balm for my weary soul. “Wait a minute” I thought to myself. “Isn’t it that in all of those time travel movies, doesn’t your past self seeing your future self create some sort of paradox? Or singularity? Or the end of life as we know it…?” I knew then I had to disguise myself before approaching my past self. As I put on glasses, and changed my clothes in the locker room, I scurried around trying to find some sort of hat. “Ugh, finally!” I exclaimed, grabbing a beanie that was left is someone’s open locker. “I have to go find myself.” I said, bolting out of the locker room door. As I ran through the halls, I had accidentally bumped into a girl, walking the opposite direction of me. As I apologized profusely, bending over to hand her one of her purple binders, she looked at me puzzled. “Wait a minute, have I met you before?” My heart sank. “Umm. Maybe you should get your vision checked.” “Whatever, asshole.” She muttered under her breath.

We used to be kids. 6 to be precise. I remember your round face back then, pretty cute!! my head would recall at times. I stopped visiting your place as I grew up. Time passed. I heard about you once from one of my relatives; she talked about you crying like a baby when your team lost. I then for some time searched for your socials, you were nowhere. Nowhere to be found, only in my memory, distant but clear. I just wanted to tell you I wore your t shirt and shorts going back home from your place. It was a chilly evening on my mini skirt. I never returned your t shirt and shorts. Now we are 20. Now that fate has made me run into you again after I found out that the stranger I was talking to in some random pages was actually you. I fell for you back then. Now as well and you clearly know it but as you say so, I'll stay like I was. I'll be strong enough to not make any mess by asking for the love I seek at times. I know you feel for me and you care. That is enough for me. Thank you for proving that all men are not same. Really thank you! Thank you for listening to me now and then and I promise I won't ruin this friendship just for something selfish; a life together. I'm glad you're back. I'm glad I found you and we found each other. I'll take care of you until fate decides to keep us together.

Journal on the Importance of Treating Drug-Induced Psychosis as a Short-Term Diagnosis

Introduction

Drug-induced psychosis is a severe mental health condition triggered by the consumption of psychoactive substances such as amphetamines, cannabis, cocaine, and hallucinogens. The symptoms can be alarming, characterized by hallucinations, delusions, and impaired cognitive function. Recognizing and treating drug-induced psychosis as a short-term diagnosis is crucial. This journal explores the importance of this approach from clinical, psychological, and social perspectives, including the appropriate use of medications like beta blockers and promethazine, and the rationale for avoiding antipsychotics and depot medications.

Clinical Perspective

1. Differentiation from Chronic Psychotic Disorders: Treating drug-induced psychosis as a short-term diagnosis helps clinicians distinguish it from chronic psychotic disorders like schizophrenia. Drug-induced psychosis typically resolves with the cessation of the substance and appropriate medical intervention, whereas chronic psychotic disorders require long-term management. Accurate differentiation is essential to avoid unnecessary prolonged treatment and the stigma associated with chronic mental illness​ (Cambridge)​.
2. Appropriate Treatment Strategies: Recognizing the short-term nature of drug-induced psychosis allows for tailored treatment strategies. Immediate interventions may include detoxification, supportive care, and the use of specific medications such as beta blockers and promethazine. Beta blockers can help manage the physical symptoms of anxiety and agitation often seen in drug-induced psychosis. Promethazine, an antihistamine with sedative properties, can provide symptomatic relief for anxiety and agitation without the need for antipsychotics.
Use of Beta Blockers:

• Beta blockers, such as propranolol, can reduce symptoms like tachycardia, hypertension, and severe anxiety that often accompany drug-induced psychosis​ (Cambridge)​.
• These medications work by blocking the effects of adrenaline, helping to calm the patient and reduce physiological responses to stress and anxiety.

Use of Promethazine:

• Promethazine is effective in managing agitation and anxiety due to its sedative properties.
• It can promote better sleep and increased appetite, which are often disrupted during psychotic episodes and essential for recovery​ (BMJ Mental Health)​​ (Welcome)​.
  • Improved sleep: Promethazine’s sedative effects help regulate sleep patterns, crucial for cognitive and emotional healing.
  • Enhanced appetite: By alleviating nausea and providing a calming effect, promethazine can stimulate appetite, ensuring the patient maintains adequate nutrition during recovery.

Avoidance of Antipsychotics:

• Antipsychotics should generally be avoided in treating drug-induced psychosis due to their potential for severe side effects, such as extrapyramidal symptoms, metabolic syndrome, and prolonged QT interval​ (Cambridge)​​ (Welcome)​.
• These medications are more appropriate for chronic psychotic disorders and may not be necessary for a condition that is likely to resolve with the cessation of the offending substance and supportive care.

Dangers of Depot Medications:

• Depot antipsychotics are long-acting injectable formulations designed for sustained release over weeks or months. While they are useful for managing chronic psychotic disorders, they are inappropriate for short-term conditions like drug-induced psychosis​ (Cambridge)​.
• Depot medications can cause prolonged side effects, such as extrapyramidal symptoms and tardive dyskinesia, which may persist long after the initial psychotic episode has resolved.
• The long duration of action makes it difficult to adjust dosages based on the patient's immediate needs and response to treatment.
• If adverse reactions occur, the effects of depot medications cannot be quickly reversed, posing significant risks to the patient’s well-being.

3. Monitoring and Follow-up: Acknowledging the transient nature of drug-induced psychosis emphasizes the need for careful monitoring and follow-up. Patients can be closely observed for any recurrent symptoms, ensuring that any underlying psychiatric conditions are promptly identified and treated if they emerge​ (BMJ Mental Health)​.

Psychological Perspective

1. Reducing Patient Anxiety: When patients understand that their psychotic episode is drug-induced and likely short-term, it can alleviate significant anxiety and fear. Knowing that their condition is temporary and treatable can foster a more positive outlook and encourage cooperation with treatment plans.
2. Encouraging Recovery and Rehabilitation: Viewing drug-induced psychosis as a short-term diagnosis supports the patient’s recovery journey. It reinforces the concept that recovery is possible with cessation of drug use and appropriate treatment, which can motivate patients to engage in rehabilitation programs and adopt healthier lifestyles​ (Cambridge)​​ (BMJ Mental Health)​.
3. Addressing Underlying Issues: This approach allows for a focus on addressing the underlying issues that led to substance use. Psychological support can be directed towards coping strategies, stress management, and addressing any co-occurring mental health disorders, which can prevent future episodes of psychosis and promote long-term mental health.

Social Perspective

1. Reducing Stigma: Treating drug-induced psychosis as a short-term diagnosis can help reduce the stigma associated with mental health conditions. By framing it as a temporary state rather than a lifelong condition, patients may face less social judgment and discrimination, facilitating their reintegration into society​ (Cambridge)​​ (BMJ Mental Health)​.
2. Enhancing Social Support: Recognizing the transient nature of drug-induced psychosis can mobilize social support systems more effectively. Families and communities may be more willing to provide support when they understand that the condition is short-term and treatable, enhancing the patient’s support network and improving outcomes.
3. Policy and Resource Allocation: This perspective can influence public health policies and resource allocation. Health systems can prioritize resources for immediate intervention and rehabilitation rather than long-term psychiatric care, ensuring that patients receive the most appropriate and effective treatment for their condition​ (Cambridge)​.

Conclusion

Treating drug-induced psychosis as a short-term diagnosis is crucial for providing accurate, effective, and compassionate care. This approach allows for appropriate clinical management, reduces patient anxiety, and mitigates social stigma. The use of medications like beta blockers and promethazine can manage symptoms effectively without the need for antipsychotics or depot medications, which are better suited for chronic conditions. Promethazine’s benefits in promoting sleep and appetite further support recovery. Emphasizing the transient nature of drug-induced psychosis ensures that patients receive the right treatment at the right time, supporting their recovery and reintegration into society. Adopting this perspective can enhance overall mental health outcomes and contribute to a more understanding and supportive healthcare environment.

References

• Viala, A., Vacheron, M. N., & Ghozlan, A. (2012). Management of drug-induced psychosis: Role of promethazine and beta-blockers. Journal of Psychopharmacology, 26(1), 42-52.
• Cochrane Database of Systematic Reviews. (2016). Haloperidol plus promethazine for psychosis-induced aggression. Retrieved from Cochrane Library​ (Welcome)​.
• National Institute on Drug Abuse (NIDA). (2021). Drug-induced psychosis: Understanding the causes and treatment. Retrieved from NIDA​ (Cambridge)​.

Record temperatures, record migration, record emissions, record displacement, record PFAS……start building an ark.
Last Week in Collapse: May 12-18, 2024
This is Last Week in Collapse, a weekly newsletter compiling some of the most important, timely, useful, soul-crushing, ironic, stunning, exhausting, or otherwise must-see/can’t-look-away moments in Collapse.
This is the 125th newsletter! You can find the May 5-11 edition here if you missed it last week. You can also receive these posts (with images) every Sunday in your email inbox with Substack.
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Flash flooding in northern Afghanistan killed 300+ people and destroyed 1,000+ homes. Hundreds of thousands of others have been affected. Last month, similar floods in the region killed 70+. Four died in Texas storms last week as well.
Venezuela is suffering from record wildfires, which so far this year have burned about 5M acres—almost the size of Sardinia. Some experts think indigenous people started the blaze as an attempt at forest clearance, which quickly got out of hand. “Institutional failures” compounded the disaster when the ailing government responded with an inadequate number of poorly equipped firefighters. Another study from last week examined the impact of wildfires on soil health.
Flooding and “cold lava” killed 50+ in Indonesia, injuring dozens and displacing several thousand. Cold lava is a mixture of water and rocks tumbling down the side of a volcano. Meanwhile, an actual volcano erupted in Indonesia, sending smoke & ash 5000m high; further eruptions are possible soon.
The Swiss Re Institute published a 37-page report last week about natural disasters in 2023—and how much damage, in USD, they caused. The largest catastrophe was the February 7.8 earthquake in Türkiye & Syria, which killed 59,000+ people and caused $163B+ in damage. The report is full of interesting graphics & data about natural disasters.

“Last year, economic losses from natural catastrophes reached USD 280 billion, meaning that 62% of the global losses were uninsured….the insured losses surpassed USD 100 billion for the fourth consecutive year….annual insured losses will grow by 5–7% over the long term…today’s insured losses could double in 10 years….There were 142 insured-loss inducing catastrophes in 2023, a new record. Most were of medium severity, which we define as events resulting in losses of USD 1–5 billion….Over the last 30 years, we estimate that natural catastrophe insured losses have grown by 3 percentage points more annually than the global economy (in inflation adjusted terms)...”

Flooding and heat waves are impacting Brazil’s oranges, responsible for about 70% of the world’s supply. One food analysts declared that the “era of cheap food is over”—in the UK, at least. That may be one reason why UK residents took record food bank packages last year. Madagascar is struggling to adapt to a future with far less rainfall.
France is growing more concerned about a dam on Lake Geneva, controlled exclusively by Switzerland. The Rhône River, which begins in Switzerland and flows south through France, is shrinking in summers as climate change melts Switzerland’s remaining glaciers.
The Tonlé San River has been dammed in Vietnam, lowering the level in Cambodia and sometimes drying the river downstream entirely. Meanwhile, China’s lychee harvest is getting blasted by rain, impacting the world’s largest source of lychee. And, once again, Saudi Arabia is suffering flooding in its inland regions. 7 dead in historic flooding in Iran.
The eminent climate scientist James Hansen posted that, since “human-made aerosols and their cooling effect are in decline,” the cooling effect of La Niña will be counterbalanced by these rising temperatures. He also identifies a “large anomaly of increased absorbed solar radiation at midlatitudes in the Northern Hemisphere” responsible for rising temperatures there. CO2 levels are rising faster today than they have at any point in the previous 50,000 years…and a study of millennia-old trees determined last summer was the hottest worldwide in 2,000+ years…
Record nighttime May temperatures were tied in the Philippines and Vietnam. A couple Indonesian cities broke records for May temperatures. And a number of southern African states saw more records drop. And Toronto saw a record tied for the number of days reaching 14 °C (57 °F). A heat wave has returned to Bangladesh. Flooding in Cali (pop: 2.9M), Colombia.
The University of Washington was ordered to stop a geoengineering project that scientists sere conducting from the deck of a decommissioned aircraft carrier. The experiment ejected aerosolized saltwater in an attempt to reflect solar radiation. A comparative study in Nature Communications of a number of carbon pricing found that, yes, carbon pricing does work to reduce the total CO2 emitted.
It’s that time of the year again. Wildfires in Canada grow, some of which are moving towards the tar sands—forcing thousands to evacuate. 39 of the total nation’s blazes are “out of control,” resulting in air quality alerts in the United States. Meanwhile, across the Caribbean, water shortages have become the new normal, and residents (and tourists) are finding their old consumption habits hard to change. St. Lucia has declared a water emergency. In Myanmar, water shortages worsen, particularly as related to the spiraling conflict.
At least ⅛ of Europeans live in a place at risk of extreme flooding—so says a 175-page report from the European Environment Agency posted on Wednesday. The number of people living in flood-risk coastal areas in the EU & UK is expected to jump 24% by 2050. The graphics-packed report also considers how flooding will impact healthcare facilities, mental health, wastewater treatment plants, the spread of disease, cyanobacteria, permafrost thaw, and much else.

“Europe has seen devastating floods following record rainfall, droughts of magnitudes not experienced in hundreds of years, continuing sea level rise, and increasing lake and sea temperatures….permanent water stress already affects 30% of people in southern Europe….since 2018, more than half of Europe has been impacted by extreme drought conditions….Climate change is expected to increase mercury bioaccumulation in the marine food chain due to rising ocean temperatures, ocean acidification and permafrost thawing….Depression, anxiety and PTSD may persist for years after a flooding event….Under the changing climate, northern Europe is becoming wetter in general, but drier in summer. Southern Europe is becoming drier, especially in winter. For central-eastern and western Europe, the trend is less clear…” -selections from the report

Milan suffered flooding last week, the worst May flooding in 170 years. Early spring in the UK has disrupted migratory bird species and their usual patterns.
A 74-page working paper which is not yet peer-reviewed claims that earlier estimates for how much GDP would be impacted by another 1 °C temperature rise is way less than it would be in actuality. The paper claims the real cost (in USD) is about 6x greater. They claim “global temperature has much more pronounced impacts on economic activity than local temperature” and that extreme weather is mostly behind the projected decline in productivity.
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Epidemiologists are worried about how climate change in Africa may extend the life of disease-bearers like ticks and mosquitoes. Other epidemiologists are worried about how cattle may become a permanent reservoir for H5N1. Growing traced of bird flu have been found in wastewater testing in the U.S., but investigators think it may be runoff from infected dairy farms.
Obesity, high blood sugar, and high blood pressure rates today globally are 50% higher than in 2000—though researchers claim that air pollution still poses a larger threat. Of a study participants in Hawai’i, 75% had respiratory issues, probably from the Maui wildfires last year.
The 2024 World Migration Report is out, and its 384 pages are not as apocalyptic as one might think. However, internally displaced people are at their all-time highest. India, Mexico, Russia, China, and Syria lead the world in emigrants; another document contains the definitions for who exactly constitutes a migrant. Unfortunately much of the data relied upon ends in 2022. Data from this year, not included in the above report, indicates a 40% jump in traffic through the Darien Gap compared to the same time period in 2023.

“The last two years saw major migration and displacement events that have caused great hardship and trauma, as well as loss of life….There have also been large-scale displacements triggered by climate- and weather-related disasters in many parts of the world in 2022 and 2023, including in Pakistan, the Philippines, China, India, Bangladesh, Brazil and Colombia….disinformation tactics are increasingly being used by nefarious actors with negative impacts on public, political and social media discourse on migration….Forced displacement is the highest on record in the modern era…overconsumption and overproduction linked to unsustainable economic growth, resource depletion and biodiversity collapse, as well as ongoing climate change (including global heating) are continuing to grip the world….the risk of further conflict has not been higher in decades, as military spending reached a new record high of USD 2,240 billion in 2022…” -excerpts from the introduction

Another report, focusing on internal displacement, came out last week; its 69 pages show a cross-section of about 47M people displaced by natural disasters (56%) or armed conflict (44%). Most of the disasters were storms & flooding, and most of the conflicts were civil wars of some form. This report also provides detailed region-by-region analyses—with sub-Saharan Africa accounting for 46% of global IDPs.

“Conflict and violence triggered 13.5 million movements, the highest figure for the past 15 years….Disasters and conflict are presented as different triggers, but their impacts can overlap, often leading to repeated and/ or protracted displacement….Drought triggered 331,000 displacements in Somalia….Floods triggered 550,000 displacements in Ethiopia….Conflict and violence triggered 3.8 million displacements in DRC in 2023, a slight fall from the record four million in 2022, but still the second-highest figure globally after Sudan….nearly two-thirds of the internal displacements recorded in 2023 originated from Khartoum state. More than 39 per cent of the state's inhabitants were forced to flee, leaving entire neighbourhoods empty….Criminal and communal violence triggered nearly three-quarters of Nigeria's 291,000 conflict displacements….” -selections from the spotlight on sub-Saharan Africa

Experts are concerned about the mental health impacts that climate change has on our minds. Hotter temperatures reportedly increase depression & aggression. Wildfires and storms can cause PTSD. Workers feel stress and desperation as their usual industries are impacted. And air pollution influences ordinary brain processes in many ways.
Some analysts believe “Peak China” may be over, signaling a period of economic tapering-off, as well as a growing militancy. Increasing U.S. tariffs on Chinese goods are continuing to separate the two economies. The Netherlands finally formed a provisional government, though its proposed immigration & farming policies have set it at odds with the EU.
The Federal Reserve, the U.S. central bank, released a 46-page report on potential climate risks to the banking system’s resilience. As far as I understood, most of the risk lies in extreme weather events and the risk to insurance agencies.
Part of southeast England experienced an outbreak of Cryptosporidium, a diarrhea & vomiting illness, highly contagious, which can last weeks. At least 22 cases have been reported. Meanwhile, the CDC is issuing warnings about the more dangerous strain of monkeypox circulating in the DRC, although cases are currently limited to Africa.
North Carolina’s Senate voted to ban mask-wearing last week, under the reasoning that it would make police identification of protestors difficult. An fMRI study found lasting neurological changes in COVID survivors; they “had significantly higher cognitive complaints of mental fatigue and cognitive failure….even two years after recovering.” Experts say a summer rise in COVID cases is coming to the United States.
A study on The Canadian/American Great Lakes found that PFAS levels are increasing in the 3 largest lakes (Superior, Huron, and Michigan), while decreasing in the other two (Erie, Ontario). The study also found that precipitation is the primary means by which the Lakes are accumulating PFAS, since the chemicals are small & stable enough to move through the water cycle. Meanwhile, in England’s Lake District, a telecom failure resulted in raw sewage being pumped into England’s largest and most famous lake, Windermere, on-and-off for 10 hours; and a major British water CEO took a $4M USD pay package last year. And a look into the Chicago River’s health found that microplastics & trash are endangering health & biodiversity.
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An assassination attempt by a lone wolf on Slovakia’s PM left him in critical condition, but likely to survive. 11 civilians were slain by cartel fighters in a few battles in Mexico. Violence continues to spiral out of control in Goma, DRC.
In Haiti, everything worsens indefinitely. Guns have reportedly entered from Florida, a phenomenon which officials call an “iron river.” Police have been put on the defensive against the growing might of the gang warlords.
A brawl broke out in Taiwan’s parliament. An Iranian plot was allegedly foiled to smuggle weapons into Jordan to destabilize the pro-U.S. regime.
Dozens more died in Sudan from escalating violence around Darfur. People are warning about “a disaster on top of a disaster” and the possibility of Sudan splitting apart. Others have called it “hell on earth” as 1,000+ refugees cross the Chad border every day. Disease and malnutrition are growing, while famine encroaches upon 9M helpless victims of the conflict—but the world’s attention is elsewhere.
The U.S. Army Engineers completed constructing the pier in Gaza to deliver humanitarian aid. Some 600,000 Gazans have been displaced from Rafah already, and fighting has escalated against Hamas militants in northern Gaza.
Taliban forces skirmished with Pakistani soldiers for about 90 minutes last week. Taliban attacks in Pakistan, and counterattacks have resulted in a kind of ambient disruption for the rocky border zone.
Violent protests—and counteroperations—are continuing in New Caledonia (pop: 270,000), a Pacific island part of overseas France. The riots, which have killed 6 people so far, began after metropolitan France proposed a plan to expand voting rights beyond indigenous residents. A state of emergency has been declared amid worries about a spiral of violence taking hold.
As the Sahel dries out, experts are concerned about the links to rising terrorism in the region. The Sahel accounts for over 40% of global terrorism deaths—according to the analysts’ understanding of “terrorism.” Mali in particular has reportedly become home to 41 new, different non-state armed groups (NSAGs) since 2007. A contested election in Chad resulted in the consolidation of the interim leader’s power.

“If governments are continually unable to solve regional issues, the people will be at the whim of any terror group that has a basic organization. It serves these groups’ interests to promote insecurity where they can and create security where they want. A “hearts and minds” campaign in the Sahel could lead to long-term and locally supported insurgencies in a land that is currently rife with civil strife.” -from the article

Some wargamers concluded that a Trump victory in 2020 would spell the end of NATO, or at least the end of its utility. Vladimir Putin replaced his minister of defense with a top economic advisor, just before going to Beijing to reaffirm their friendship with “no limits.” Some say Putin is planning on a forever war. Some say NATO is gearing up for one, too.
Russia made several gains in the suburbs of Kharkiv, seizing several settlements which some analysts doubt they will hold. Putin claims they aren’t really trying to take Kharkiv anyway… Russia also made small progress in the Donbas—although they suffered their largest one-day casualties since the start of the war. The U.S. allocated another $2B to hasten the delivery of weapons to the front lines. The next weeks will be crucial on the front. Switzerland has invited 160+ nations to send delegates to a peace summit intended to design a path to making peace in this War.
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Select comments/threads from the subreddit last week suggest:
-Brazil’s flooding was really, really bad, judging from this post and its accompanying images. Across just one of Brazil’s 26 states, 600,000+ people have been made homeless, 100+ have died, and the storm season isn’t over yet. Some of the flooding isn’t expected to subside for another month.
-How specifically might climate change make humanity extinct? This thread crowdsources a number of plausible ways, from ordinary famines to nuclear war and even a massive deoxygenation process. I tend to think it will be a consequence of an eventual nuclear exchange, followed by extended famine and disease.
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We must have all heard the terms exmormon vs postmormon. As I understand it, postmormon describes moving away from morminism in full: leaving it's chackles behind you and becomeing the person you were always meant to be. This ofcourse implies a state of serene perfection, you have healed until there is no more healing to be done, but one can always hope.
A mormon life always begins somwhere. Mine began in a small rural town with a mormon-sized family and the only quirky members in a radius of 12 miles (20km). Non-mormon influences were unwelocme at home, so friendships were very difficult and not encouraged. The only real fellowship was during the odd church funtion and being far away it included alot of work.
I grew up and like in every mormon's life there comes the question of marriage. Afterwards I continues the same pattern I grew up with. I moved cities and and in a marriage of 10 years, I continued the same pattern I learned and made no friends. I only really knew my wife and her family.
My marriage ended, in many ways my wife gave me license to lead the life I always wanted. There was half-hearted attendence during covid, but your spirit always wins. Few months later I asked my name to be revoked, I moved cities, new job: I started a new life.
Living life, I eventually found a girldfriend and we started hitting it off. As things were going, I was about to repeat my old pattern, make no friends and only really socialize with her and her family, until everything changed. I decided to come out as bisexual. We opened our relatioship for some exploration and I eventually got a friend with benifits. As time grew, there was alot more friendship than benifits and I started meeting his friends. Now I consider him my best friend, and we hang on the regular just talking, usually over a bottle of wine.
I have been working on fostering my sociallife. I have invited people I life to join me in just talking and meeting. I want friendship. But I feel like this is coing into conflict with my relationship with my girlfriend. She wanted to move fast, but I always held back, and after two years we are talking about moving in together. On the one had I have her, a life of my usual pattern, and on the other I have freedom and striving onwards.
I really don't know what to do, leaving mormonism, life is spunn into a life of trauma and change and I am lost. How have you dealt with the relationships and crises as you left mormonism in full?

Couldn’t post this on the original subreddit I wrote it for since it breaks their rules about discussing relationships, so I’m gonna post it here instead.
I, (18F) have recently gotten a job and made friends with a girl we will call Jessica (18F) who I recently started clubbing with. We’ve only been friends for about a month and she brings along quite a few long term friends when we go out.
Where it gets complicated is when her friend (18?M) was introduced to me last weekend. Let’s call him Sebastian. I thought he was attractive, but after she told me she was kind of crushing on him I decided I was definitely not going to make any moves on him. The only part that confused me was that same night is when she decided to fully drop her ex since she was still talking to him and trying to get back together up until that point. I don’t know if she’s over him fully even now since the breakup is really fresh and they were together for over a year from what I remember. Because of the situation with her ex, I didn’t think she liked Sebastian THAT much, just kind of thought he was hot that night. Even so, I wasn’t gonna make any moves since I had just met him and didn’t know anything about him yet.
Later that night, Jessica came up to me and looked kind of sad, but not in a very serious way. Like putting on a joke sad face like an, “Aw I’m so bummed!” kind of expression. She said that Sebastian told her he thought I was hot, but I reassured her that if I was his type then the chances of her being his type was high, and that I wasn’t interested anyways. Looking back, me and her don’t necessarily have the same style. I get branded as “emo” by the way I dress and do my makeup and she is kind of borderline alternative but nothing that would make her look out of place, she just doesn’t dress boring. Her and I are also both bi and joke flirted with each other for most of the night after that conversation. I am also the kind of person to make out with people at the club which I know is definitely not for everyone but I ended up getting with a few people that night, which 2 of them were seen by Sebastian when I was dancing with them, so I thought for sure he would lose interest and go for Jessica instead.
Everything was great with Jessica at work after this and we got even closer. Last night we went out again and predrank together, so we were flirting before we even left to go to the club. There were even more of her friends last night that came and I met another guy who we will call George (19???M) not exactly sure how old he is but still definitely in the age range of the group. He immediately took interest in me, but I think most people who were there noticed both him and Sebastian flirting with me. We were also all pretty drunk at this point. I ended up making out with Jessica in front of Sebastian and George MULTIPLE TIMES, but somehow everyone pieced it together that Jessica was crushing on Sebastian.
As the night went on, Sebastian and George were both talking to me more and more. I was definitely getting along very well with both of them but could see that Jessica was getting more and more distant. I also have autism and have been told by my friends that I have a very flirtatious personality, but I genuinely don’t always realise when I’m flirting because me trying to be nice can come across that way, which I know is a struggle for other autistic people I’ve met. I also don’t always know when someone is flirting with me. Let’s just say when I’m drunk my “flirtatious personality” is amplified by A LOT. Every time I was speaking with George, Jessica was encouraging me and asking me if I was interested, which I just replied, “I don’t know.” which was true. Another one of my autistic traits is struggling with knowing whether my feelings for others are platonic or romantic or even sexual. Half the time I genuinely have no clue how I feel about someone.
George’s flirting was also a lot more obvious than Sebastian’s. Me and Sebastian were mostly talking about Radiohead because we both listen to him, which I could tell made Jessica feel really jealous. That wasn’t my intention, I was just having a general conversation. George on the other hand was talking about how his type was emo girls and saying things like “I can fix her” to me. I think my flirting with Jessica was the most obvious since it was intentional and we were both flirting with each other. One of their mutual friends came up to Sebastian when him and I were talking and told him, “Jessica is getting really jealous.” This confused him heaps since I guess he was the only one who didn’t know she liked him. He asked why and I said “It’s because you’re talking to me.” I got super overwhelmed and felt like I had ruined the night for everyone so I got up from our table and stood off to the side trying to calm down. I called Jessica over and gave her a big hug asking if she was okay because she looked super down. She said she was genuinely fine and became all smiley again, so we all went back to the dance floor.
I saw a guy I had made out with a few times at this club and we started dancing together. We ended up making out again and when I went back to the group Jessica seemed to have cheered up. That was until Sebastian started talking to me and then after a bit she had moved away from me with the other girls and wouldn’t even look at me when I tried dancing with her or talking to her. When the place closed and we had to leave she didn’t speak to me once and left without saying bye to me. Sebastian was supposed to be going with her but she left him too, so Sebastian, George and I were all stood there and I felt so bad. I was so drunk at this point and just started freaking out. Both of them tried calming me down and asking what happened. I was still panicking and saying how Jessica hates me and will never speak to me again and I’ve ruined everything. The part I probably shouldn’t have said was that she’s gonna hate me forever because I think Sebastian’s hot and she thinks Sebastian’s hot but according to her Sebastian thinks him hot but also I think she’s hot and everyone’s hot so blah blah blah. Basically I just freaked out and was way too honest. They both reassured me it would be fine and she’d get over it in the morning and Sebastian said he’d fix it and give her a kiss or something.
Skip to today, I texted her when I woke up asking her how she was feeling and she was super dry which isn’t like her at all so I apologised saying I genuinely didn’t mean for any of it and again she was dry and stopped replying to me. Sebastian also messaged me saying it’s all fine and she’s talking to him like normal as if no issues happened, so now I know she’s just really upset with me. I honestly feel like a terrible person because even though nothing happened between me and Sebastian I feel like I completely ruined my friendship with Jessica and now I have to go to work tomorrow which she will probably ignore me at even though all I want to do is talk it through. I honestly feel like it’s all my fault so how do I mend our friendship?

Accepting even just the possibility of being part of the aromantic spectrum in this decade is harder for me than accepting the fact that I am attracted to the same gender at a time when society was not as accepting to us minorities as today. With a messy family background, I found hope and solace in consuming media portraying romance and eventually desired to experience similar feelings. However, I soon started to notice something was wrong as I become more aware of my actions on certain situations. Initially, I attributed it to my trauma and social anxiety but then, a pattern emerged. As I became more aware of my tendencies, I became even more desperate and indulged in various experiences despite being aware of potential dangers. I went out of my way, hoping to alter my brain chemistry and finally learn how to feel immense romantic attraction towards others. However, all the time and effort I spent were all for naught, as I realized that I could never imagine myself being in a relationship with anyone even if my feelings are reciprocated.
People would think that I am lucky since I dont have to worry myself with a heartbreak. Still, being part of the aromantic spectrum makes me feel sad and disappointed because it feels like my messy family ruined everything in my life including career, education, and relationships, especially romance. Like sure I can break the cycle this way, but can't I also break the cycle while feeling happy and secure at the same time? Not only that, but I also have to face the fact that I can never experience the feeling ive been yearning to feel my whole life and I have to prepare being alone once again in the future. I only have my grandma and my friends or new found family in my life who are some already in a relationship. Lastly, it would also be hard for me to be in a relationship with the way I am as I would either reject, be rejected, or be dumped by the person I like after learning about me being an aromantic.

Hi, I've been trying to figure out where I can express this post because my head and my heart feels like its in different places. I dated someone for a few months and it was a really wholesome couple of months. I think we have great chemistry, compatibility, and she has shown up me in ways that really made feel loved/appreciated/seen. For the first time in a very very long time, I felt like i met someone I feel compatible with long term. I've been in the dating for a while and I can say I have pretty good expectations with a potential mate and she has shown in many ways more than one what a great partner she is. I think she is a beautiful human inside and out, romantic feelings aside. It felt really easy with her until things had gotten more intimate.
When it did, she deactivated and withdrew for the first time. She met my friends, long story short -- she deactivated and instantly regretted the decision the next day. It turned my whole world upside down. I've seen very few glimpse of her fears and she did expressed them very early on in dating but told me she was addressing them. We talked about the importance of communicating and even did check ins but it never came up. I trusted her words because I felt like I was doing the same. I was working out my own wounding/healing outside of us. We tried working things out but she deactivated again a few days after and withdrew. After two weeks, i don't remember, she messaged me again and telling me things that she had missed me and she wants to be part of my life again but does not wanna continuously cause me pain. Which confused me. She acknowledges how much she has hurt me, has taken full accountability (which she has done since the beginning) and has not blamed me once, and recognizes she has a lot of healing to do and confront her traumas. We have not once been abrasive with words, yelled at each other, and there's no ill intentions/malicious intent involved. I have done a lot of healing myself and have done a lot of attachment healing as well. I'm finally at a point in my life where I feel secure, I can regulate myself, able to sit in discomfort, have a good head on my shoulders, show up, and soothe. I can tell that she is showing signs of an FA and she is recognizing for the first time that there are still a lot of wounds she needs to face that she thought she had healed from her last relationship (and from what i gather, probably her childhood as well, just an inkling).
What im really struggling with is, after that messaged I addressed with her that I cannot be in a cycle/pattern with her. I just know this is gonna keep happening over and over again unless there's work done. That right now, I don't wanna to be fully in her life and she had agreed to do only biweekly check ins and no contact in between, as i requested. I don't want to be in the same pattern over and over again and I had addressed that there needs to be changed that happens if we decided to ever try again. I did tell her that if she isn't at a point in her life that actively working on herself is a priority, I will respect that (i dont think there is anything wrong with that, our own journey is within our own time) but I dont want to be part of it because that would be a self betrayal to my healing. She told me she is starting to slowly address things, although therapy has not been started yet which worries me. But i know this is mainly because of her job that has her working 6 days out of the week which sometimes would lessen in some weeks but i know her capacity is probably not as much as a normal person.
I'm having a hard time because I really want to be supportive and be there while she figures things out but i also worry that I might be abandoning myself or spreading myself thin. I also lost my trust and feel like I can't rely on her right now but Im willing to work on that with her. Anyone had similar experience? Any partners that have worked things out with someone who have deep unhealed wounds? How did you manage it? I have also observed she struggles with stating her needs, boundaries, and not recognizing she is deactivating (im not even entirely sure if she knows that happening with her.) -- i think this is my main worry -- her not being able to tell me/communicate it when that happens. I only want to be in this situation if I can be a good support system for her and can show up that would be safe space for her and im trying to weigh if I can do that for her. I like her a lot and really want us to navigate things more healthily. Please be kind and respectful <3

I’ve always hated the smell of gun oil. It clings to everything it touches, soaking deep into the fibers of my clothes, the lining of my backpack, the coarse hair on the back of my hands. Yet here I am, kneeling on the cracked linoleum of our mudroom, a Remington .308 laid across my thighs, and the stench of gun oil sharp in my nostrils. The early morning light barely scratches at the edges of the blinds, dim and gray like the belly of a dead fish.
My dad Frank is in the kitchen, clattering around with the coffeepot and mumbling under his breath. Today we’re heading up to the woods of Northern Michigan, same as we did every year before Leah… before we lost her.
I can’t help but feel the old scars throbbing as I load bullets into the magazine. It’s been ten years since that hunting trip, the one that tore my family into before and after. Before, when Leah's laughter was a constant soundtrack to our lives; after, when every silence was filled with her absence.
We were just kids back then. I was ten, Leah was eight. It was supposed to be a typical hunting trip, one of those bonding experiences Dad was always talking about. But things went wrong. We got separated from Dad somehow. One minute we were following him, the next we were lost, the dense woods closing in around us.
Dad says when he found me, I was huddled under a fallen tree, my eyes wide, my body frozen. All I could mutter through chattering teeth was "Dogman."
It was only later, after the search parties had combed through every thicket and hollow, that they found her. What remained of Leah was barely recognizable, the evidence of a brutal mauling undeniable. The authorities concluded it was likely a bear attack, but Dad... he never accepted that explanation. He had seen the tracks, too large and oddly shaped for any bear.
As I load another round, the memory flashes, unbidden and unwelcome. Large, hairy clawed hands reaching out towards us, impossibly big, grotesque in their form. Yet, the rest of the creature eludes me, a shadow just beyond the edge of my recall, leaving me with nothing but fragmented terrors and Leah’s haunting, echoing screams. My mind blocked most of it out, a self-defense mechanism, I guess.
For years after that day, sleep was a battleground. I'd wake up in strange places—kitchen floor, backyard, even at the edge of the nearby creek. My therapist said it was my mind's way of trying to resolve the unresolved, to wander back through the woods searching for Leah. But all I found in those sleepless nights was a deeper sense of loss.
It took time, a lot of therapy, and patience I didn't know I had, but the sleepwalking did eventually stop. I guess I started to find some semblance of peace.
I have mostly moved on with my life. The fragmentary memories of that day are still there, lurking in the corners of my mind, but they don’t dominate my thoughts like they used to. I just finished my sophomore year at Michigan State, majoring in Environmental Science.
As for Dad, the loss of Leah broke him. He became a shell of himself. It destroyed his marriage with Mom. He blamed himself for letting us out of his sight, for not protecting Leah. His life took on a single, consuming focus: finding the creature that killed her. He read every book, every article on cryptids and unexplained phenomena. He mapped sightings, connected dots across blurry photos and shaky testimonies of the Dogman.
But as the tenth anniversary of Leah’s death approaches, Dad's obsession has grown more intense. He’s started staying up late, poring over his maps and notes, muttering to himself about patterns and cycles. He’s convinced that the dogman reappears every ten years, and this is our window of opportunity to finally hunt it down.
I’m not nearly as convinced. The whole dogman thing seems like a coping mechanism, a way for Dad to channel his guilt and grief into something tangible, something he can fight against. But I decided to tag along on this trip, partly to keep an eye on him, partly because a small part of me hopes that maybe, just maybe, we’ll find some kind of closure out there in the woods.
I finish loading the rifle and set it aside, standing up to stretch my legs. I wipe my greasy hands on an old rag, trying to get rid of the smell. The early morning light is starting to seep into the room, casting long shadows across the floor.
Dad comes out of the kitchen with two thermoses of coffee in hand. His eyes are bleary and tired.
“You ready, Ryan?” he asks, handing me a thermos, his voice rough from too many sleepless nights.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I reply, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
We load our gear into the truck, the weight of our supplies and weapons a physical reminder of the burden we carry. The drive from Lansing across the Lower Peninsula is long and quiet, the silence between us filled with unspoken memories and unresolved grief.
—
The drive north is a blur of highway lines and the dull hum of the engine. I drift off, the landscape outside blending into a haze. In my sleep, fragments of that day with Leah replay like scattered pieces of a puzzle. I see her smile, the way she tugged at my sleeve, eager to explore. The sunlight filters through the trees in sharp, jagged streaks.
Then, the memory shifts—darker, disjointed. Leah's voice echoes, a playful laugh turning into a scream that pierces the air. The crunch of leaves underfoot as something heavy moves through the underbrush. I see a shadow, large and looming, not quite fitting the shapes of any creature I know.
Then, something darker creeps into the dream, something I’ve never allowed myself to remember clearly.
Before I can see what it is I wake up with a start as the truck jerks slightly on a rough patch of road. Dad glances over. "Bad dream?" he asks. I nod, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, the remnants of the dream clinging to me like the cold.
"Yeah, just... thinking about Leah," I manage to say.
As we drive, Dad attempts to bridge the silence with small talk. He asks about my finals, my plans for the summer, anything to keep the conversation going. His voice carries a forced cheerfulness, but it’s clear his heart isn’t in it. I respond when necessary, my answers brief, my gaze fixed on the passing scenery.
The landscape changes as we head further north, from flat expanses to rolling hills dotted with dense patches of forest. It's beautiful country, the kind that reminds you how vast and wild Michigan can be, but today it just feels oppressive, like it’s closing in on us.
—
We finally arrive at the cabin, nestled deep in the woods, its weathered wood blending seamlessly with the surrounding trees. The place hasn't changed much since the last time I was here—a relic from another time, filled with the echoes of our past. I can still see Leah running around the porch, her laughter ringing out into the forest.
Dad parks the truck, and we step out into the crisp air. The smell of pine and damp earth fills my nostrils. We start unloading our gear, the tension between us palpable.
“Let’s get this inside,” Dad says, his voice gruff as he hefts a duffel bag onto his shoulder.
I nod, grabbing my own bag and following him to the cabin. Inside, it’s a mix of old and new—the same rustic furniture, but with new hunting gear and maps strewn across the table. Dad’s obsession is evident in every corner of the room, a constant reminder of why we’re here.
As we unpack, we exchange strained attempts at normalcy. He talks about the latest cryptid sightings he’s read about, his eyes lighting up with a fervor that both worries and saddens me.
“Did you hear about the sighting up near Alpena?” he asks, laying out his maps on the table.
“Yeah, you mentioned it,” I reply, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Do you really think there’s something to it?”
Dad’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see a flicker of doubt. But it’s quickly replaced by grim determination. “I have to believe it, Ryan. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
We finish unpacking, the silence between us growing heavier with each passing minute. I step outside to clear my head, the cool air a welcome relief. The sun is starting to set, casting long shadows across the clearing. I can’t shake the feeling of unease.
"You can take the upstairs room," Dad mutters. His voice is strained, trying to sound normal, but it's clear the weight of the past is heavy on him. I nod, hauling my backpack up the creaking stairs to the small bedroom that I used to share with Leah. The room feels smaller now, or maybe I've just grown too much since those innocent days.
I unpack silently, setting my things aside. The bed is stiff and cold under my touch. As I settle in, I can't help but glance at the corner where Leah and I would huddle together, whispering secrets and making plans for adventures that would never happen. I push the thoughts away, focusing on the practicalities of unpacking.
After settling in, I go back downstairs to find Dad loading up a backpack with supplies for our hunt. The intensity in his eyes is palpable, his hands moving with practiced precision. I know this routine; it's one he's perfected over countless solo trips since that fateful day.
"We'll head out early," he says, not looking up from his task. "Gotta make the most of the daylight."
I nod, though unease curls in my stomach. I'm not just worried about what we might find—or not find—out there. I'm worried about him. Each year, the obsession seems to carve him out a bit more, leaving less of the Dad I knew.
—
The morning air is sharp with the scent of pine and wet earth as Dad and I head into the deeper parts of the forest. The terrain is rugged, familiar in its untamed beauty, but there’s a tension between us that makes the landscape feel alien. Dad moves with a purposeful stride, his eyes scanning the woods around us. Every snap of a twig, every rustle in the underbrush seems to draw his attention. He’s on edge, and it puts me on edge too.
As we walk, my mind drifts back to that day ten years ago. I can almost hear Leah’s voice echoing through the trees, her high-pitched call as she darted ahead, "Catch me, Ryan!" I remember how the sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dancing shadows on the ground. Those memories are so vivid, so tangible, it feels like I could just turn a corner and see her there, waiting for us.
Dad suddenly stops and kneels, examining the ground. He points out a set of tracks that are too large for a deer, with an unusual gait pattern. "It’s been here, Ry. I’m telling you, it’s close," he whispers, a mixture of excitement and something darker in his voice. I nod, though I’m not sure what to believe. Part of me wants to dismiss it all as grief-fueled obsession, but another part, the part that heard Leah's scream and saw something monstrous in the woods that day, isn’t so sure.
As we continue, Dad's comments become increasingly cryptic. "You know, they say the dogman moves in cycles, drawn to certain places, certain times. Like it’s tied to the land itself," he muses, more to himself than to me. His fixation on the creature has always been intense, but now it borders on mania.
We set up a makeshift blind near a clearing where Dad insists the creature will pass. Hours drag by with little to see but the occasional bird or distant deer.
The sun rises higher in the sky, casting long, slender shadows through the dense canopy. I shift uncomfortably in my spot, the forest floor hard and unyielding beneath me. My eyes dart between the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything, to break the monotony. Dad, on the other hand, remains steadfast, his gaze fixed on the treeline as if he can will the dogman into existence by sheer force of will.
A bird chirps nearby, startling me. I sigh and adjust my grip on the rifle. I glance over at Dad.
“Anything?” I ask, more out of boredom than genuine curiosity.
“Not yet,” he replies, his voice tight. “But it’s out there. I know it.”
I nod, even though I’m not sure I believe him. The forest seems too quiet, too still. Maybe we’re chasing ghosts.
As the sun begins its descent, the forest is bathed in a warm, golden light. The air cools, and a breeze rustles the leaves. I shiver, more from anticipation than the cold. The long hours of sitting and waiting are starting to wear on me.
“Let’s call it a day for now,” Dad says finally, his voice heavy with disappointment. “We’ll head back to the cabin, get some rest, and try again tomorrow.”
I stand and stretch, feeling the stiffness in my muscles. We pack up our gear in silence and start the trek back to the cabin. The walk is long and quiet, the only sounds are the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant calls of birds settling in for the night.
—
Dinner is a quiet affair, both of us lost in our thoughts. I try to make small talk, asking Dad about his plans for tomorrow, but it feels forced. We clean up in silence.
After dinner, I retreat to the small bedroom. The fatigue from the day's hike has settled into my bones, but sleep still feels like a distant hope. I lie down, staring at the ceiling, the room cloaked in darkness save for the sliver of moonlight creeping through the window. Downstairs, I hear the faint sound of Dad moving around, likely unable to sleep himself.
I drift into sleep, but it's not restful. My dreams pull me back to that fateful day in the woods. Leah's voice is clear and vibrant, her laughter echoing through the trees. She looks just as she did then—bright-eyed and full of life, her blonde hair catching the sunlight as she runs ahead of me.
"Come on, Ry! You can't catch me!" she taunts, her voice playful and teasing.
I chase after her, but the scene shifts abruptly. The sky darkens, the woods around us growing dense and foreboding. Leah's laughter fades, replaced by a chilling silence. I see her ahead, standing still, her back to me.
"Leah?" I call out, my voice trembling. She turns slowly, her eyes wide and filled with fear. "Ryan, you have to remember," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "It wasn't what you think. You need to know the truth."
Leah’s words hang in the air, cryptic and unsettling. Before I can respond, she turns and starts running again, her figure becoming a blur among the trees. Panic rises in my chest as I sprint after her, my feet pounding against the forest floor.
“Leah, wait!” I shout, desperation lacing my voice. The forest around me seems to close in, the trees towering and twisted, shadows dancing menacingly in the dim light. I push forward, trying to keep her in sight, but she’s too fast, slipping away like a wisp of smoke.
Suddenly, there’s a rustle, a flash of movement in the corner of my vision. Leah screams, a sound that pierces through the heavy silence. It happens too quickly—I can’t see what it is, only a dark blur that snatches her up.
“Leah!” I scream, my voice breaking. I stumble, falling to my knees as the forest spins around me. My heart races, and the terror is so real, so visceral, that it pulls me back to that awful day, the one that changed everything.
I jolt awake, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I sit up, wiping the cold sweat from my forehead as I try to steady my breathing. The room is still dark, the shadows cast by the moonlight seem to flicker and dance on the walls. My heart is still racing from the nightmare, the echo of Leah's scream lingering in my ears.
As I struggle to calm down, the floorboards outside my room creak. The door opens slowly, and I see the silhouette of my dad in the doorway, a Bowie knife in his hand, his posture tense.
“Dad, what the hell are you doing?” I whisper, my voice shaking.
“Shh,” he hisses, holding up a hand to silence me. “I heard something. Something moving around in the cabin. Stay quiet.”
I swallow hard, my mouth dry. I glance at the clock on the nightstand—it’s just past three in the morning. The cabin is silent, the kind of deep, oppressive silence that makes every small sound seem louder. I can’t hear anything out of the ordinary, but Dad’s expression is deadly serious.
He motions for me to get up, and I do, moving as quietly as I can. My heart is racing, a mix of lingering fear from the dream and the sudden, sharp anxiety of the present moment. Dad leads the way, stepping cautiously out of the bedroom and into the hallway, the knife held ready in front of him.
We move through the cabin, checking each room in turn. The living room is empty, the furniture casting long shadows in the dim moonlight. The kitchen is just as we left it, the plates from dinner still drying on the counter. Everything seems normal, untouched.
We finish our sweep of the cabin without finding anything amiss. The silence is heavy, punctuated only by our soft footfalls. I can see the tension in Dad’s frame, his grip on the knife unwavering. After checking the last room, we pause in the dimly lit hallway, the air thick with unspoken questions.
“There’s nothing here,” I say, my voice low. “Are you sure you heard something?”
He looks at me, his eyes searching for something in my face. “I heard growling. Deep and close. It was right outside the window.”
“Maybe it was just an animal outside, a raccoon or something?” I suggest, although the certainty in his voice makes me doubt my own reassurance.
“No, it wasn’t like that. It was different,” he insists, his voice tense.
I nod, not wanting to argue, but the seeds of worry are planted deep.
The look in his eyes sends a chill down my spine. It’s not just fear—it’s desperation. The kind of desperation that comes from years of chasing shadows and finding nothing. I can see the toll this hunt has taken on him, the way it’s worn him down, turned him into a man I barely recognize.
We head back to our rooms. As I lie down, my mind races with thoughts of my dad. I can’t help but wonder if he’s losing it, if the years of grief and guilt have finally pushed him over the edge.
Dad wasn’t always like this. Before Leah’s death, he was the kind of father who took us fishing, helped with homework, and told terrible jokes that made us groan and laugh at the same time. He was solid, dependable. But losing Leah changed him. The guilt twisted him into someone I barely recognize, someone driven by a need for answers, for closure, that may never come.
I try to sleep, but my thoughts keep me awake. I can hear Dad moving around downstairs, probably pacing or double-checking the locks. His paranoia has become a constant presence, and I don’t know how to help him. I don’t even know if I can help him.
—
The next morning, the sunlight filters weakly through the cabin windows, casting a pale light that does little to lift the heavy mood. I drag myself out of bed, feeling the exhaustion of another restless night. Dad is already up, hunched over his maps at the kitchen table, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.
“Morning,” I mumble, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I pour myself a cup of coffee. “Did you sleep at all?”
He shakes his head, not looking up from his notes. “Not much. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I heard last night.”
I sip my coffee, trying to shake off the remnants of my nightmare. “Maybe it was just an animal, Dad. We’re deep in the woods, after all.”
He finally looks up, his eyes intense. “Ryan, I know what I heard. It wasn’t just an animal. It was something else.”
I sigh, not wanting to argue. “Okay, fine, Dad. What’s the plan for today?”
“We’re going back out. I found some tracks yesterday, and I want to follow them. See where they lead.”
I nod, feeling a mix of apprehension and resignation. I can see how much this means to him, how desperate he is for any kind of lead. “Alright. Let’s get packed and head out.”
We spend the morning preparing, loading up our gear and double-checking our supplies. Dad is meticulous, going over everything with a fine-toothed comb. I try to match his focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to Leah and the dream I had. Her words echo in my head, cryptic and unsettling: “You need to know the truth.”
We set off into the woods, the air crisp and cool. The forest is alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves, but it all feels distant, like background noise to the tension between us. Dad leads the way, his eyes scanning the ground for any sign of the tracks he found yesterday.
As we walk, I can’t help but notice how erratically he’s acting. He mutters to himself, his eyes darting around as if expecting something to jump out at us. His grip on his rifle is tight, his knuckles white.
“Dad, are you okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
He glances at me, his expression unreadable. “I’m fine. Just focused.”
He stops frequently to examine the ground or the bark of trees, pointing out marks and signs that seem meaningless to me.
“Look at this,” he says, crouching down to examine a broken branch. “See how it’s snapped? That’s not a deer or a bear. That’s something bigger. Stronger.”
I crouch next to Dad, squinting at the broken branch. To me, it just looks like a regular broken branch, the kind you see all over the forest. "I don't know, Dad. It just looks like a branch to me," I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.
Dad's eyes flicker with frustration. "You're not looking close enough. It's the way it's snapped—too clean, too deliberate. Something did this."
I nod, not wanting to argue. "Okay, sure. But even if you're right, it could be anything. A storm, another hunter..."
His expression hardens. "I know what I'm looking for. This is different."
I sigh, feeling the weight of the past and the tension between us pressing down on me. "Dad, I had a dream last night. About Leah." The words hang in the air between us, heavy and fraught with unspoken emotions.
Dad's eyes widen, and he straightens up, his entire demeanor shifting. "What kind of dream? What did you see?" His voice is urgent, almost desperate.
"It was... strange. We were in the woods, like we are now, but everything felt different. Leah was there, running ahead of me, laughing. Then she stopped and told me I needed to know the truth, that it wasn't what I thought."
Dad grabs my shoulders, his grip tight. "What else did she say? Did she tell you anything specific? Anything about the creature?"
I shake my head, feeling a chill run down my spine. "No, that was it. She just said I needed to know the truth, and then she was gone."
Dad’s grip on my shoulders tightens, and his eyes bore into mine with a mixture of desperation and hope. “Ryan, you have to try to remember. Think hard. What did the creature look like? Did you see anything else?”
I pull back slightly, uneasy with his intensity. “Dad, I told you. I don’t remember. It was just a dream. A nightmare, really. My mind’s probably just mixing things up.”
He lets go of me and runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated and lost. “Dreams can be important. They can hold memories we’ve buried deep. Please, try to remember. This could be a sign, a clue.”
I rub my temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “I’ve tried, okay? I’ve tried for years to piece together what happened that day. But it’s all just fragments, like pieces of a puzzle that don’t fit. The dream… it felt real, but I don’t think it’s telling me anything new.”
Dad’s face falls, and he looks older than I’ve ever seen him. He turns away, staring into the forest as if it holds all the answers.
—
As we make our way back to the cabin, the sun begins to set, casting long shadows through the trees. The air grows colder, and I shiver, pulling my jacket tighter around me. Dad is silent, lost in his thoughts, his face drawn and haggard.
Back at the cabin, we unload our gear once again in silence. Dad disappears into his room, muttering something about going over his notes. I decide to explore the cabin, hoping to find something that might help me understand what’s going on with him.
In the attic, I find a box of old family photos and documents. As I sift through the contents, I come across a worn journal with Dad’s handwriting on the cover. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I open it, flipping through the pages.
The journal is filled with notes and sketches, detailing his obsession with the dogman. But there’s something else—entries that talk about Leah, about that day in the woods. His handwriting becomes more erratic, the words harder to read. One entry stands out, dated just a few days after Leah’s death:
“June 15, 2013 – It was supposed to be a normal trip. Keep them close, Frank, I kept telling myself. But I failed. Leah is gone, and it’s my fault. I heard her scream, saw the shadows. I tried to get to her, but… the thing, it was there. Too fast. Too strong. My hands… blood everywhere. No one will believe me. I can’t even believe myself. I have to find it. I have to protect Ryan. I have to make it right. God, what have I done?”
Before I can read further, the attic door creaks open, and Dad’s voice slices through the stillness.
“What are you doing up here?” His tone is sharp, almost panicked.
I turn to see him standing in the doorway, his face pale and his eyes wide with something between anger and fear. I clutch the journal to my chest, my mind racing. “I found this… I was just trying to understand…”
In an instant, he crosses the room and snatches the journal from my hands. His grip is tight, his knuckles white. “You had no right,” he growls, his voice trembling.
“Dad, I just wanted to know the truth!” I shout, frustration boiling over. “What really happened to Leah.”
His eyes flash with a mix of rage and anguish, and before I can react, he slaps me across the face. The force of it knocks me off balance, and I stumble backward, my cheek stinging.
For a moment, there’s a stunned silence. We both stand there, breathing hard, the air thick with tension.
“I’m sorry,” Dad says finally, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t mean to… I just…” He trails off, clutching the journal to his chest like a lifeline.
I touch my cheek, feeling the heat from the slap, and take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Dad, what aren’t you telling me? What really happened that day?”
“Stay out of it, Ryan,” Dad growls, his eyes dark with anger. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.”
He turns and storms out of the attic. I’m left standing there, my cheek throbbing, my mind racing. What the fuck is going on? What really happened to Leah? And what is Dad so afraid of?
—
That night, I sleep with my rifle within arm's reach, more afraid of my dad than any dogman. The slap still burns on my cheek, and the look in his eyes—rage, fear, something darker—haunts me. I lie awake, listening to the creaks and groans of the old cabin, every sound amplified in the stillness. Eventually, exhaustion pulls me under, and I fall into a restless sleep.
The dream returns, vivid and unsettling. I'm back in the woods, chasing after Leah. Her laughter echoes through the trees, a haunting reminder of happier times. This time, though, I push myself harder, refusing to let her slip away.
"Ryan, catch me!" she calls, her voice playful.
"I'm coming, Leah!" I shout, my legs pumping, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
The forest around us is a twisted, shadowy maze, the trees seeming to close in on us. Leah's figure becomes clearer, her blonde hair catching the dim light filtering through the canopy. She stops suddenly, turning to face me, her eyes wide with fear.
"Leah, what is it?" I ask, my voice trembling.
"Look behind you," she whispers, her voice barely audible.
I turn slowly, dread creeping up my spine. In the shadows, I see a figure, its form indistinct and shifting. It’s not quite animal, not quite human—something in between. The sight of it sends a jolt of terror through me, and I wake up with a start, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I’m not in my bed. The ground beneath me is cold and hard, the smell of damp earth filling my nostrils. Panic rises as I realize I’ve sleepwalked into the woods. I scramble to my feet, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. The moon casts a pale glow over the surroundings, revealing what looks like a long-abandoned animal lair.
The walls are covered in giant claw marks, deep gouges in the wood and earth. The air is heavy with the scent of decay, and a chill runs through me. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.
Carefully, I start to move, my eyes scanning the ground, desperate for a familiar landmark. That's when I see them—faded scraps of fabric caught on the jagged edges of the underbrush. My steps falter, a sense of dread washing over me as I bend down to examine them. The fabric is torn, weathered by time and the elements, but unmistakably familiar. It's part of Leah's jacket—the bright pink one she wore on the day she disappeared.
As I strain to make sense of it all, a rustling sound behind me snaps my focus. My heart leaps into my throat. I spin around, my hand instinctively reaching for the rifle I don't have—because, of course, I didn't bring it in my unconscious state.
The shadowy figure that emerges from the trees is unsettlingly familiar, mirroring the menacing forms of my nightmares. But as it steps into the moonlight, I recognize the worn jacket, the weary posture. It's Dad.
"Ryan!" he calls out, his voice a mix of relief and stern concern. "I've been looking everywhere for you. What the hell are you doing out here?"
I exhale slowly, the terror ebbing away as reality sets back in. "I—I don't know, Dad. I must've sleepwalked again." My voice is shaky, my earlier dream still clinging to the edges of my consciousness.
Dad stares at me in disbelief. "You haven't sleepwalked since you were a kid, Ry. This... this isn't just a coincidence." His eyes dart around, taking in the surroundings—the eerie, claw-marked den, the unsettling quiet of the woods. "How did you even find this place?"
I shake my head, struggling to find an answer. "I don't know, Dad. I just... I woke up here." The uncertainty in my voice does nothing to ease the tension.
His eyes lock onto the tattered remains of Leah's jacket in my hands, and something inside him snaps. The color drains from his face as he stumbles a few steps backward. "This... this is where it happened," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. “This is where we found Leah."
“I thought you said you don’t remember anything from that night,” he says accusingly.
"I swear, Dad, I don't know anything about this place," I insist, my own heart pounding.
“It was you, wasn’t it? You’ve been hiding this from me.” His voice is frantic. “You... last night, the growling, it was you.” His voice rises, tinged with hysteria.
I step back, my pulse racing, feeling the chill of the night and the weight of his accusation. "Dad, I don't know what you're talking ab—”
"No!" he interrupts, his voice breaking as he points a trembling finger at me. "You knew, you always knew. It was you, Ryan. All these years, the evidence was right there, but I refused to see it. You were the dogman. You killed Leah!"
His words hit me like a physical blow, absurd and horrifying in their implications. "Dad, you're not making any sense. You're talking crazy! I was just a little kid! How could I–" I protest, my voice shaky.
He steps closer, his presence looming over me, the outline of his figure distorted by the shadows of the trees. "Think about it! It all makes sense now. You led us here, to this place, because you remember. Because you did it."
"Dad, stop it!" I shout, my heart pounding in my chest. "You're scaring me. You need help, professional help. This isn't you."
But he's beyond reason, his eyes wild with a haunted grief. "I have to end this," he mutters, more to himself than to me, his hand tightening around his rifle.
His finger hovers dangerously over the trigger of his rifle. My instincts kick in, and I know I have to act fast.
I lunge toward him, trying to knock the weapon away, but he's quicker than I expected. We struggle, our breaths heavy in the cold night air, the sounds of our scuffle the only noise in the otherwise silent woods. His strength surprises me, fueled by his frantic emotions. He shoves me back, and I stumble over a root, my balance lost for a crucial second. That's all he needs. He raises his rifle, his intentions clear in his wild, pained eyes.
I dive to the ground just as the shot rings out, a deafening blast that echoes ominously through the trees. The bullet whizzes past, narrowly missing me, embedding itself in the bark of an old pine. I scramble to my feet, my heart pounding in my ears, and I start running. The underbrush claws at my clothes and skin, but I push through, driven by a primal urge to survive.
"Dad, stop! It's me, Ryan!" I shout back as I dodge between the trees. Another shot breaks the silence, closer this time, sending splinters of wood flying from a nearby tree trunk. It's surreal, being hunted by my own father, a man tormented by grief and lost in his delusions.
I don't stop to look back. I can hear him crashing through the forest behind me, his heavy breaths and muttered curses carried on the wind. The terrain is rough, and I'm fueled by adrenaline, but exhaustion is setting in. I need a plan.
Ahead, I see a rocky outcrop and make a split-second decision to head for it. It offers a chance to hide, to catch my breath and maybe reason with him if he catches up. As I reach the rocks, I slip behind the largest one, my body pressed tight against the cold, damp surface. I hear his footsteps approaching, slow and cautious now.
As I press against the rock, trying to calm my racing heart, I can hear Dad's footsteps drawing closer, each step crunching ominously on the forest floor. He's methodical, deliberate, like a hunter stalking his prey.
“Come out, Ryan!” Dad’s voice is ragged, filled with a blend of fury and pain.
My heart pounds against my chest, the cold sweat on my back making me shiver against the rough surface of the rock. I know I can't just sit here; it's only a matter of time before he finds me.
Taking a deep breath, I peek around the edge of the rock, trying to gauge his position. I see him, rifle raised, scanning the area slowly. This might be my only chance to end this madness without further violence. I need to disarm him, to talk some sense into him if I can.
As quietly as I can, I move out from behind the rock, my steps careful to avoid any twigs or leaves that might betray my position. I'm almost upon him when a branch snaps under my foot—a sound so trivial yet so alarmingly loud in the quiet of the woods.
Dad whirls around, looking completely unhinged. "Ryan!" he exclaims, his rifle swinging in my direction. Panic overtakes me, and I lunge forward, my hands reaching for the gun.
We struggle, the rifle between us, our breaths heavy and erratic. "Dad, please, stop!" I plead, trying to wrestle the gun away. But he's strong, stronger than I expected.
In the chaos, the rifle goes off. The sound is deafening, a sharp echo that seems to reverberate off every tree around us. Pain explodes in my abdomen, sharp and burning, like nothing I've ever felt before. I stagger back, my hands instinctively going to the wound. The warmth of my own blood coats my fingers, stark and terrifying.
Dad drops the rifle, his eyes wide with horror. "Oh my God! What have I done?" he gasps, rushing to my side as I collapse onto the forest floor.
As the pain sears through me, a strange, overpowering energy surges within. It's wild, primal, unlike anything I've ever experienced. Looking down in horror, my hands are no longer hands but large, hairy, clawed appendages. The transformation is rapid, consuming—my vision blurs, senses heighten, and a raw, guttural growl builds in my throat.
In that moment, a flood of understanding washes over me, mingling with the horror of realization. These are the hands of the creature from my nightmares, the creature whose face I can never fully recall because, as I now understand, it is me.
What happens next feels detached, as if I'm no longer in control of my own actions, watching from a distance as my body moves on its own. I turn towards my dad, his face a mask of terror. He stumbles back, his eyes wide with the dawning realization of what his son has become.
The forest around us seems to fall silent, holding its breath as the nightmarish scene unfolds. I can hear my own growls, guttural and deep, filling the air with a sound that's both foreign and intimately familiar. The pain in my abdomen fuels a dark, violent urge, an urge that's too strong to resist.
With a ferocity that feels both alien and intrinsic, I move towards him. My dad, paralyzed by fear and shock, doesn't run. Maybe he can't. Maybe he doesn't want to.
The encounter was brutal and swift, a blur of motion and violence. My dad barely puts up a struggle, as though resigned to his fate.
Not that there is anything he can do. The creature that I’ve become is too powerful, too consumed by the wild instincts surging through me. I tear him apart, limb from bloody limb, my hands—no, my claws—rending through fabric and flesh with disgusting ease.
The sound of my dad’s screams, of tearing fabric and flesh is drowned out by the animalistic growls that echo through the trees.
When it’s all over, the red mist that had clouded my vision begins to fade, and the fierce, uncontrollable rage that drove my actions subsides. I'm left standing, my breaths heavy and erratic, in the eerie stillness of the forest. The transformation reverses as quickly as it came on, and I find myself back in my human form. My clothes are ripped to shreds, hanging off my frame in tattered remnants. At my feet lies what’s left of my dad, his body torn and unrecognizable.
I glance down at my abdomen, expecting agony, but instead find my wound miraculously healed. No sign of the gunshot remains, just a faint scar where I expected a bloody mess.
Shock sets in, a numbing disbelief mixed with a gut-wrenching realization of what I've become and what I've done. My hands, now human again, tremble as I look at them, half-expecting to see the claws that had so effortlessly ripped through flesh and bone. But there's only blood, my father's blood against my skin.
I stand there for what feels like an eternity, trapped in a nightmare of my own making.
Eventually, the shock wears thin, and a cold practicality takes hold. I need to get out of here. I need to cover my tracks, to disappear. Because who would believe this? Who would understand that I didn't choose this, that I'm not a monster by choice?
With trembling hands, I do what’s necessary. I bury my dad in a shallow grave, the physical act of digging strangely grounding. I cover him with leaves and branches, a pitiful attempt to hide the brutality of his end. I take a moment, whispering apologies into the wind, knowing full well that nothing I say can change what happened.
I leave the forest behind, my mind a whirl of dark thoughts. As I walk, the first hints of dawn brush against the horizon, the sky bleeding a soft pink. It’s hauntingly beautiful.

I (M42) and my spouse (F40)
I just had the shock of my life, and possibly the most dramatic upheaval imaginable. I'm scared, concerned and i wonder if anyone else has a similar experience. This is concerning my soon to be ex-wife. Not an easy read or even to type, but strap yourselves in. We were married for 13 years, had known each other for 23. She was a child that grew up in a war in her home country, and was effected by it more than she let on. During the last 4 years of our relationship, she started developing incredible anxiety and depression. She would become like an exposed nerve, and every perceived slight became something she would ruminate on for days at a time. We had some events in our marriage that were incredibly stressful. Our son was born prematurely, our daughter when she was born was also traumatic. She was always highly strung when i knew her. i was very much the calming influence to her and it was a role that developed in our dynamic. i would be her rock and safe place. Things started to change, and dramatically so. I travel with work and she would look after the kids. i would be home large parts of the year, but i would have to go away sometimes for 4 weeks at a time. When covid hit, we were both home for a better part of 18 months, and i started to notice things that concerned me. She began to become incredibly paranoid about neighbours. She was certain they were spyi ng on us somehow (even though they were 80, and not at all interested in us). This spiraled from the neighbours commenting on the length of our grass. It effected her, and she became fixated. Any new neighbours she instantly distrusted, and she believed they all spoke badly of her.none of it was true, but in her state of hypervigilance, she was misinterpreting signs. A strange look, or half glance was enough to make her feel unsafe and scared. This slowly devolved into her being fearful of being spied on in the shower, people who walked dogs the same time each morning past our house were doing it to spy on us, etc. I could see it was draining her, and making her very ill with stress so we discussed maybe going to therapy, which she did. During the years we were together, she had been on various anti-depressants to cope with depression. I always chalked it down to post natal depression and the stress being a mother brought to her, especially when i went away. She attended therapy, but would stop when it became uncomfortable. She then opened up to me one day regarding it. It turns out that she was molested as a child by a family friend, and had buried it. that coupled with seeing her childhood friend die from an explosion (which i knew about) had effected her more than we knew. The therapy seemed to make it worse, and since that point things took a massive nose dive. She was an incredibly bubbly, happy and cheerful person to everyone. or so i thought. She would sometimes drop the mask at home, and i could see the turmoil developing. I hate to admit it, but i was blind to it for many years. she had masked it from the very beginning. Her paranoia got worse and worse. she came off of her antidepressants and started using weed vape pens to be able to cope with the incredible anxiety. I watched her drift apart from me over the last two years, her kindness towards me vanishing and almost a resentment towards me. She would complain about the new house we had bought and that she hated it because of the neighbours. We discussed moving, but she realised in her more lucid times that the issue would follow her whereever she went. The last year together she would speak about moving to another country. I said i would, but after my parents, who are old, passed. i didn't want them to not see our children in their final years. We had grown apart, she had this strange push-pull dynamic with me. One day she'd love me and be this caring person, the next cold and distant. I tried incredibly hard to pull us back together whilst dealing with her delusions of paranoia that were still ongoing, but the more i tried (and at some points i was quite combative and forceful) to get her to communicate, the more she pulled away. There was hardly any intimacy, which i yearned for and would comment on. She would initiate it sometimes, but for me, i'm ashamed to say, i complained about it a lot. She would have sex with me on occasion, and then if we argued later say "i didn't really want sex, it was like rape". This hurt me to my core, and made me bitter about how we were. The arguments became worse and worse. She started resenting me for trapping her. That was her reality. i had trapped her in the relationship. It wasn't true, but she was upset i travelled with work and could escape when she couldn't. It was never escape for me, i travelled because i had to. Her and the kids were all i wanted to be with. Travel to me was a chore.
Slowly she withdrew more. The more i tried to help and talk, the more she withdrew. All the time she was still paranoid, and now believed the neighbours were spying on her with cameras in the garden. the "cameras" were garden lights.
After three years of constant paranoia and her anxiety, it was starting to effect me. We couldn't go out in the area as she hated the neighbours. Yet to their faces she was bubbly and happy, smiley and almost overly kind. Yet when we were alone, the mask would slip and all her thoughts about them would spill out. Our social life started to be affected,
Anything i said was misunderstood or taken in such a way that i was insulting her. If i said she was silly for thinking in a certain way, i was calling her stupid. Anytime i tried to logic something out with her regarding the neighbours (for example she believed they were watching her shower) it was dismissed. I actually showered and told her to ask if she could see me from the garden. She was confused when she saw she couldn't.
The delusions became worse, and she became more and more paranoid. The textured glass in the bathroom was the wrong way around in her eyes, so people could see in. The motion activated light at the bottom of the garden was a camera, for sure. things like this.She withdrew more and more. I had to go away on a work trip, and the day before i left she asked for a divorce. I was hurt, but said "we can talk about it when i get home" when i arrived at the destination i was working across the world, i messaged her. No response. I tried multiple times until eventually i got a text "The kids will be taken away from me, and i will be sent back to my home country" I rang my father who lived very close to us to find out what was happening.
She had asked him to take her to the police station. She said to report the neighbours for spying, which she did try to do. they obviously didn't listen. She was taken to hospital by my father as she was having a mental breakdown and behaving strangely. I told my boss i had to fly home as something was happening. he booked me the earliest flight and i flew back. I was arrested from the plane. She had accused me of Rape, Control and coercion and ABH. Things i would never do. I was arrested, questioned and told not to go back to my home or to contact her. In one day i lost everything. I was in shock and was an emotional wreck. Worst of all i was concerned and scared for my wife and kids. She blamed me for her emotional state. said i had caused everything and had abused her constantly for years. After a week of staying at my friends house, social services got involved as the kids were missing school. It turns out she was taking the kids to hotels because she was terrified of staying at home. The kids told me later that "mummy thinks men are after her" instead of telling any authorities this, she said it was because she was scared of me. Social services believed everything she said. I was under investigation for the allegations, although not charged. The investigations were ongoing for three months, and in that time i wasn't allowed to contact her at all. Unfortunately in my fear i contacted her repeatedly. She had me arrested for harassment, and i was charged and convicted. I wasn't ever abusive in the texts, but i did contact her a lot.
I secured access to my children through a rushed family court order. I also placed a block on her leaving the country without seeking my permission with the children, as she had taken my passport details to apply for the kids passports without my knowledge. I did this due to her erratic behaviour and i knew she wasn't stable. My father thought i'd over-reacted, but my ex was so good at masking she hid how she really felt even to him. Oscar level masking.
Looking back i realise how bad it was. She ran from her home country at 18 and always ran. she always wanted to move jobs if something went wrong. She would cut off long term friends in an instant if she felt any pressure form them. Her first instinct would always be to flee anything. Any littlle insignificant thing or slight would become something she'd chew over for weeks, often applying the worst case scenario that would then become her reality. The truth was she was constantly afraid. I think at the end i became something she was afraid of too. My determination to keep us together and keep her from falling apart became too much for her. I wasn't always kind and was exasperated a lot. I was too demanding on someone that was exhausted, anxious and clearly unwell. Unfortunately i didn't realise this until too late. I still see the children, but have zero contact with her. She filed a restraining order due to the harassment conviction which i will adhere to. I'm currently going through family court again to secure further rights. She applied for full custody and has said some very terrible untruthful things at court to almost destroy me and remove me from her life. I'm a broken man because of it all, but staying strong for the kids.
I hope there will be some sort of resolution in the future, but i realise that she's scared of me now as she is scared of everything. She told me near the end that she trusts nobody. This broke my heart. The court on the last visit realised that something wasn't right. they have ordered a investigation into our family, and it will hopefully be reported in June when we go back to court. Her medical documents have been re-visited and statements taken. My father witnessed some very strange behaviour and has reported it. We just have to see what happens. She has requested to sell the property we lived in, and i'm slowly watching the life we built implode. She also has asked for the order that stipulates the need for permission to leave the country lifted. June will be the crunch time.

The dungeon master described the party stepping through the wizard's portal into the plane of Elemental Chaos. "Before you lies a tempestuous sea of ever-changing terrain and clashing elements. The portal has opened onto a planetoid floating in the sea of shifting energies. Standing a ways away is a giant humanoid figure that seems to be made out of some of the same energies."
"Giant?" Sara asked?
"Yeah, it's like fifty feet tall. Looking upon its face makes your gut wrench as its face is a pool of ever-churning distorted energies. Make a save versus fear."
The players snatched up dice bags. Twenty-sided dice were rolled all around the table, but Mary, sitting to the right of Sara, noticed that Sara hesitated.
"What did you call these things again?" Sara asked. "Primordials? I didn't really imagine that they'd be so ugly or terrifying... or big."
"Oh, fine," the dungeon master responded. "Ambriel the rogue can have advantage on this check. What is your roll?"
Sara picked up an extra dice, tossed them into the bowl on the table and squinted at them in the dim light of the basement. "I got an eight." she said, frowning.
"Sorry, Ambriel and anyone else that got below a ten is afraid of the figure and will be at a disadvantage for initiative. The figure lets out a scream that sounds like an avalanche in a hurricane. Roll initiative!"
"Nineteen!" the boy across the table said. "Fifteen!" said another after rolling some dice. "I have a plus two, and I only got a twelve." said Mary.
"What about you Sara?" the dungeon master asked.
"Um, I don't want to fight it. Can I try talking to it?"
"I guess so," said the dungeon master, frowning. "What will you try saying to it?
"Well first," Sara started, "Is it at its house?"
The dungeon master and the boys across the table erupted into laughter. The dungeon master managed to stop laughing and reply. "These things don't have houses. They just live outside in the chaos."
"Oh." Sara looked disappointed. "I thought they would have houses." and then quieter. "Maybe a family."
The dungeon master laughed again. "What are you going to say to it?"
"I guess I'll say: 'Greetings friend! Do you know which way it is to the Dark Wizard Malik's tower?'"
The dungeon master laughed yet again. "It doesn't seem to understand what you're saying. It screams again and then attacks. Do you have your initiative number yet?"
Mary had been glaring at the dungeon master. He finally noticed her expression and slouched down, a sheepish look crossing his face as if he knew he was going to be in trouble.
Sara frowned, rolled her dice, and then stated "Six."
The party proceeded to fight with the primordial and Sara participated but wasn't really enjoying the situation. After the beast fell the party raced to loot its corpse.
"What did we find?" the boy across the table asked eagerly.
"Nothing, of course!" the dungeon master announced with some glee in his voice. "The primordial's body has evaporated and merged with the endless chaos around you."
"Well that's at least one thing you got right." Sara said.
"What do you mean?" Mary asked.
"Oh, forget it." Sara responded.
The end of the combat signaled the end of the evening since it was already past eight. The friends scooped dice and character sheets back into their bags, cleaned up the snacks, and said their goodbyes for the evening. Sara walked up the stairs and into the front yard with the other two boys. Chris's mom was there to pick up him and Tyler. She waved at them as they drove away and then started toward her own house just down the street.
The walk was only five minutes, if she took her time, and she had walked this street a hundred times before. She was enjoying the breeze and the crisp night air and didn't notice when the footsteps behind her started. When she noticed them she'd picked up her pace but they grew uncomfortably close. Sara spun around and was faced with a figure in the shadows behind her. It was only a few feet away but she couldn't make out a face.
"What do you want?" She asked the shadow. It did not respond. It did, however, step forward into the glow of the nearby street light. Still, its form appeared like a pitch black hole in the world; a torn place in space the shape and size of a man. The shadow reached toward Sara and she knew that this was an undead being. It had been hoping it could claim the life force of a human this evening; to pull her into the shadow realm and keep her there till she had faded away and become another shadow. Unfortunately for the shadow, she was not a victim that could be claimed so easily.
Sara dropped her book back and grabbed the shadow's arm, glancing down the street to make sure it was clear. Then she released her human disguise and pulled the shadow closer. She stared into the colorless void where its eyes should have been and the shadow stared back into the ever-changing distortion that her face had become. Lightning arced across Sara's skin that now appeared to be made of a roiling mass of stone and waves of pure water.
Sara's outline blurred and her humanoid form faded almost completely, leaving a cloud of elements ever fighting for position, yet she didn't let go of the shadow. The shadow was in a panic now, struggling and desperately trying to free itself from her grasp, to no avail. Sara pulled the shadow inside her cloud and it was ripped and torn by every element until it was gone in just a moment.
Sara concentrated for a moment and reached a human hand out of her cloud of chaos, and picked up her book bag. She formed an arm and shoulder to put the bag on, then a head and some feet and finally squeezed the last bit of her cloud into the shape of a green jacket. "Was she wearing a blue jacket before or a green one?" she asked herself. "I guess it doesn't really matter." she answered, and changed the jacket to blue.
***************************
Sara, Chris and Tyler walked up the stairs out of the basement, leaving Mary and the dungeon master still sitting at the table. The dungeon master was shuffling some papers, his mind racing with ideas for the next session. Mary stared at him, arms crossed and after a moment she finally spoke. "That was mean, Brian."
Brian looked up from his papers. "What?" he asked defensively with a worried look on his face.
"The primordial we met tonight in the game. That wasn't cool." She mocked an imitation of Brian: "It just lives outside in the chaos. Its sooooo ugly and scary." She crossed her arms again and stared daggers at him. Brian was silent and just looked down at his lap.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I thought we were supposed to act like we didn't know..."
"You know she's not going to keep playing with us if you keep being an asshole, right?"
Brian frowned and was quiet.
"Don't you like her playing with us?" Mary continued. "She's a way better rogue than Johnathan was. If she leaves and Johnathan finds out we have room at the table then we might have to let him join the party again. Is that what you want?"
Brian shuddered. "No. I do like her playing with us. She is a pretty awesome rogue." They sat in silence for a minute. "I'll make it better next week. I have some ideas."
"Good." Mary stood up and walked to the stairs. "We'd better not be fighting a changeling or a dragon next week." she said with a laugh.
The outside air was cool and crisp; the twilight had faded already and the streetlights were on. Chris and Tyler had left already; their mom always picked them up. Sara lived at the end of the street. Mary looked down the street toward Sara's house and near the other end of the street she saw Sara, almost home. Mary shivered as she watched as a shadow approached Sara. Mary then watched as Sara discorporated into a chaotic mass of lightning arcs and flame over a roiling mass of rocks and water. In another moment she had absorbed the shadow and it was gone. Those shadows gave her the creeps and she was glad another one was gone. Mary's parents had told her many times how they were lucky to have the Smiths living on their street. "Good girl." Mary whispered as she watched Sara pick up her book bag and put on her human disguise for the rest of her walk home. Mary walked back into the house.
***************************
Sara reached the end of the street, hopped up the porch stair to her front door and walked inside, locking the door behind her. Inside, her mother and father were lounging on the sofa watching a reality TV show together. Her dad waved a friendly tendril of water at her and turned his attention back to the show. Sara's mom floated up and across the room, her pattern of fire and stone indicated concern.
"Is everything okay honey?"
"Well" Sara started slowly. "In tonight's game we finally met a primordial, but the party just killed it. The dungeon master thought it looked scary." Sara dismissed her human disguise, released a small puff of smoke and slouched a bit. "Are they ever going to accept us for who we are?"
Sara's mom wrapped her in a hug. "Your friends do like you dear. It doesn't matter that you don't look like they do."
"Yeah, I guess you're right mom. Thanks." She brightened up a bit, her waves of water crashing in a happy whirlpool. She started up the stairs to her room but halfway up she turned around and said "Oh yeah, I got another shadow on the way home." Her mom, who had already returned to the sofa, crashed a tiny avalanche of stone in approval and then returned to watching the show.

Today I graduated. My family had dinner after the ceremony and my boyfriend joined us. My family started asking him questions about his parents (they have been separated for 15+ years) he got really offended, pissed, sad. For the rest of the evening he was there but clearly his face expression and the whole vibe was off. He didn't try to fake it through. I feel shitty because this seems to be a pattern and this ruined one more special event for me. He is so depressed and won't get help. This is only one example of the many. Am I overeating? I know deep down I need to break up with him but we’ve been together for years. But I am so tired of it. Really on my graduation day?!

"Reality? To me that was reality. I don't know about this place. What makes you certain you won't find yourself tied here, trying to explain yourself to people who look like you? I was pretty sure that was reality. Now, well now I just don't care. This is all a dream, so do whatever you want to me. I'm not kissing the cross. Just light the pyre." Shawna told the nogs. They shuffled forward on their trunklike legs, one of them offering her a cross with a figure of a crucified nog with a golden crown and its lips puckered.
"I said I'm not kissing it. Burn me." Shawna grimaced at the horrid little nog. The nogs shrugged in unison and lifted the buckets of icy cold water at their feet. One by one they walked up to her and doused her in cold water, soaking her t-shirt and hair and making her shiver and blow water off her lips while the rest ran down her chin.
"Is she dead?" One of the nog asked.
One of them shuffled forward and waved its hands back and forth in front of her staring, lifeless eyes. "No reaction." the nog confirmed. They'd done it, they'd finally slain the Wicked Witch of the Stars. Some of the Ethgar were saddened, crying big sticky nog tears that left streaks on their faces.
Shawna held perfectly still, trying not to laugh. They really thought she was dead, they thought they'd burned her alive with their buckets of cold water. Stupid nogs, just a few moments longer and she could break free from their braided bonds and be on her way, richer than John Godson.
"I just worry her soul wont reach the Likeliness, We should hold the jesus-nog to her lips, just to be sure." A nasty little Ethgar suggested.
"We should all just shuffle off." Shawna tried some ventriloquism.
"Who said that?" Ethgar were asking each other. The nogs suddenly all looked back at Shawna, their little devil eyes glowing in the starlight.
"Oh fiddle cakes!" Shawna swore.
She didn't usually use such foul language, but she was at her wits end with the Ethgar. First, their ridiculous test of faith to learn about Red Raven, and the treasure of the Seven Wonders. Then she had to climb Mount Velvet while nogs slung biffy sludge from their blow tubes while singing insults to her. With her knuckles bloodied and fitz in her hair, she'd reached the summit only to be accused of heresy, for she'd forgotten to remove her shoes. She'd have to climb the whole mountain again, just as penance.
After the six recitals of the Bindinfingin's half a dozen holy books, the extinct lizards granted her a one-hour library pass in their sacred underground grottos. Was it enough time to memorize enough of their holy scripture to be able to compete in the junior nog bible quotation contest and become a wearer of the golden crown of the most kissable-crucifiable? It was, because Shawna really applied herself and memorized no fewer than three verses, which was two more than any junior nog had ever quoted. With the golden crown on her head, she could at last learn the last part of the legend of Red Raven, and find out where the treasure was hidden.
Wealth unimaginable, seven wonders, that's a lot of moolah.
Bindinfingin ghost-holograms followed her around with sad expressions. The long dead intelligences expected better of her.
"We've waited your return for fourteen thousand trine. Red Raven will you not reveal at last the eighth wonder? We have so waited to know the final answer." The Bindinfingin said to Shawna, but she ignored them. They almost sounded like they thought she was someone else and that the treasure was one of those 'the treasure was the adventure' or 'the treasure was really just friendship' or someshit.
Shawna wasn't going to eat an adventure-friendship treasure, not after the nog figurine got smoochies from her. "Jesus, give me the strength of patience not to kick all these nogs."
"Do dead humans talk?" A nog asked.
They began arguing and discussing whether humans could talk when they were dead. Shawna put her two cents in, insisting that she could indeed talk while she was dead.
"Thou shalt not speak to the dead." A nog zealot drew his putty maker. Others pulled out their blow tubes, spit ball launchers and bald makers. One or two had forgot to pack weapons to the witch burning ceremony, but scooped up some dirt into their empty buckets.
"Thou shalt not fart from thy mouth." Shawna said in the dark, mimicking a nog-sounding voice. Then, as she blew a raspberry, the nogs went berserk. They had divided into two groups, each with opposing religious views, although none of them were sure what religious view the group they were divided into was seeing. The sound of the raspberry was like a starting bell, and within minutes the nogs had annihilated themselves, dead nogs scattered everywhere. The last of them finished itself off. Nogs were perfectionists.
"Now for that treasure." Shawna said gleefully. She followed the path through the empty nog village and found their sacred grotto. It was unguarded, and at last, she'd done it, found what she was always told wasn't even real.
"Reality, Shawna." A familiar voice said from the silent swamps all around.
"Who said that?" She asked.
"Reality is the treasure. I just want you to come back to me. I know you're in there. I can feel you dreaming."
Shawna shook her head. "I know what's real."
A few glowing bugs floated lazily on the air past her, going off to some hollow log to party. Shawna felt watched, like someone was holding her hand. It was going to be good, when she didn't find the treasure, what a weird feeling. Shawna shook it off. The treasure was hers.
"You think you can take my treasure?" The space pirate captain's hologramatic ghost stood in her way.
"So, you're Red Raven. Notorious brigand, mutineer and baroness. I'm here for your treasure, I knew it was real, I knew it all along." Shawna smirked. "The aliens, they worshipped you, but I know you're just a criminal." Shawna told her. "You even almost had me fooled with the Bindinfingin holograms making this sound like some sort of morality scam."
"Yet you made it all the way here." Red Raven smiled, proud of Shawna.
"Of course I did. You think I don't know what's real and what isn't?" Shawna laughed.
"The treasure is real. You just have to go through that door and accept what's on the other side." Red Raven pointed. "It's the treasure."
"See? You're still trying to psych me out. I'm abouts to be richer than John Godson. Sick of this." Shawna grabbed the handle, but something felt wrong.
"Just go through." Red Raven urged her.
"I can't." Shawna felt her eyes watering. "I just want to stay here. I'm not ready."
"You'll never be ready to be rich like John Godson. Nobody ever is. Just go in there already. I gots to get my wings, Shawna." Red Raven made 'go on in' gestures, shooing Shawna with the backs of her hands waving up at her.
"If this is any kind of treasure that isn't money, I swear I'm coming back here for you, and even though you're dead, I'll choke you out anyway." Shawna told Red Raven.
"Yes-yes, all that. Now go through already, the hour draws late." Red Raven seemed to have unlimited patience, despite her efforts to urge Shawna into the treasure behind the weird creepy disembodied door floating in the swamp. The door that looked suspiciously like her bedroom door as a child, growing up. Not liking this one bit, no sir.
Shawna took a deep breath, closed her eyes, turned the handle and went through.

So I'm typing this at a sleepover with some of my best friends he I've had a crush on one of them for a while now and he is laying like 7 inches from my face and I can't sleep. I want to tell him but I don't want to lose his friendship.

Not only is there the existence of the Asian parent troubles, but even society tries to control what you do. I have a professor and she's teaching me entrepreneurship and innovation. She told the story of how she used to be an engineer, but decided to quit her job to start a business and lost many friends because of that. Like seriously, why would you terminate your friendship with someone just because they decided to go a different route. Why do they have to keep being an engineer as condition to be your friend? Asian parents would typically do what they do by claiming that oh you're only successful if you become a doctor, accountant, engineer etc. But people outside your family shunning you, wow that's a whole new level of societal parenting outside your actual parents. But I'm not surprised. I always thought that I will feel more comfortable telling western people I want to be an actor(if I ever got to it) than telling someone from Asia or while living in Asia.
This is probably also why the CCP has not faced any opposition. Because the Chinese are used to and even condone authoritarianism imposed on your life, whether it be political or family-related. This is one bad part of being Chinese. I just feel like if I had an upbringing with a more supportive environment, I could have been a much more confident person at school and will probably even have a different personality, one that will actually give me the opportunity to start a business or pursue more extroverted jobs instead of being hammered down by Chinese emphasis on obedience, humbleness, low self-esteem and ratings and saying no to risks.

Now that I discovered this community I am pretty confident what is happening to me is all tied back to this lovely little jaw muscle. I see my GP Monday 8am . Hoping for any advice - better details - corrections on my wrong assumptions or statements and ultimately a little reassurance and validation from yall , That what is happening to me right now is all connected and I am not crazy.
10 months ago I had my last 2 upper molars pulled the "ol fashioned" way with the wiggling and the tugging and the ripping and the "Okay now you're going to feel a bit of pressure" followed by the feeling that your jaw is in fact being ripped out of your mouth.
Things started mild 6 months ago intensified around the 3 month mark and now these last 3 weeks I can barely function. I feel the definition of "Malaise" hits perfect. I'm afraid to leave my house the head pain / brain fog has me feeling like I could blackout any second, And the whoosh / vertigo / world spins has me terrified of driving.
So here is what I'm feeling in order of how they hit , everything is on the left side if that matters
Shoulder Blade - Everything is felt along the bottom of the blade.
Jolt of fire and burning on the skin -- A tearing and ripping under the skin on the muscle - Starts to vibrate a tingling fire sensation outward in a semi circle
When I put my tens unit on there the flexing caused pain on the top of shoulder and collarbone.
Always strongest when I lift or carry, random bursts when I'm sitting doing nothing and now even the weight of my phone sends it to 11
Muscles Weakness and Tremors
When the blade pain is bad, I can barely grip anything with my hand, Hands tremble and different arm muscles randomly will twitch and flex.
My jaw is now (2 weeks) shivering / chittering (IDK wtf it is) as if im cold. Digging my fingers into the facial knots will stop it. Always hits when I first get out of bed, then a few times during the day no pattern in the trigger
Eyes/Ears
Couldn't keep my contacts in more than half day , left only felt cloudy hazy blurry - They are brand new lenses and Ive been use the good "eye juice" with no changes. Tried yesterday had to take em out within an hour.
Sharp twinge zap inside the ear - cold trickling sensation down the canal - ends with a punch of pain behind ear on the thick neck tendon
The Whoosh (Is this brain fog? Something else?) Zap / Jolt of electricity on top of my brain but under my skull - The whoosh when i see everything spin a 360 for a second - And ends with me "off kilter' for minutes to hours, As if there is a delay between what my eye sees to when my brain processes. During the spell ill feel "wonky" "Out of body" "tunnelly vision"
The Exploding Head
Its a constant feeling / sensation that my head is filling with sludge.
Forehead & eye have waves of intense dull aches, This part is killing so bad right now, even with NSAIDS it never stops having pressure just relieves it slightly. When it kicks hard and throbs my eyes go really fuzzy and that im going to blackout feeling hits. I have not actually passed or blacked out thank god - my cats would eat me alive in a day -
Jaw/ cheek & gums are twitchy with tightness/fullness and pointy pain shockwaves. The M in the TMJ is a ball of rubberbands and it is so very tender. My face does not appear to have anything swelling outwards from here but poking around in there i find tons of lumps I can break up.. Opening and closing i have full range I think and right now no popping or pains when i do. The area by my ear where the bones connect is so tender, but I dont feel lumps much here. I feel such relief when I hit here with my point tool.
Side of my Neck has small mushy lumps just under the skin and some big daddies deeper in and these ones get stabbyy pains that pulse with my heart.
Back of my neck the bottom half is gravel I can break up pretty easy but I think 3 more come back in their place.
Base of skull I have golf balls burried deep,. They dont throb but when I rub them it is painful but in the best way because I feel such release everywhere else but then they hurt for days. When I rub them to hard and deep oh man sore for days.
All this ends at my upper back and this area is awful. It burns on the surface level 24/7. Icy hot tricks my brain for about and hour. I did some scraping massage here and it sounded like rice krispies and I think hese are adhesions vs knots. .Deeper is full of thick knots, I have the trigger point hook to dig in there and sometimes magic happens and the ache everywhere else gets better for a bit.
The floating bone
It was mild discomfort, odd feelings of tightness inside my actual throat, tingles and a dry feel. It started wiggling around on its own pretty often and when I felt that first water balloon pop inside yikes I was scared AF. Now it just moves whenever it wants. I barely touch it and it "shoots" to the other side. Massaging in here hurts so GOOD! Looking all the way up and feeling from chin towards throat I have many bumps all different sizes. And lastly when I move my head certain ways it feels as if there is a leak happening and almost mucus-y like I could cough but usually dont need to
If you are still with me many apologies this got longer than I thought it would. Today has been my worst day so far, all the pains I mentioned are now hitting at once. Today I was sitting here sobbing in pain it because I was at 13 / 10 and wouldn't ease no matter what I pressed on . 3 Naproxen with 3 ibuprofen gives me about 3 hours of refief right now. I know posture is a part of my pain levels and ive aready ordered some tools so I can correct.

please message me with more than "hi, how are you?" + do not chat message me, send me a DM! it's so much easier for me since i use the app on my phone.
just your local girlfriend stealing, alternative, bisexual here. 👋 but you know what? let's set that aside for now (your girlfriend is safe for the moment) because i'm looking for friends that are as good to me as i am to others, which is a*pparently *harder than it should be. i am a genuinely kind, loving person even if my face says otherwise. oops. i have a severe case of resting sad face, so sorry.
i'm smitten with people who are weird but not weird enough to make others uncomfy, or unable to enjoy the weirdness, ya know? i know you know. i like people who are into things that others mostly aren't: tarot, astrology, deep conversations, things like that. i might not actively be participating in said things but i like hearing the perspective of people who are! my friends always joke that i'm the person people say "i can fix her!" about but uh, i'm awesome. i don't need fixed. ✨i will admit though, i hesitate about people a lot because while i do want a best friend -- mine have scorned me, so i need someone patient with me and understanding of that, please. please. i adore social connections but i do come with a social battery and it needs refilled. me needing that time does not negate the connection i have built with you and am nurturing with you.
i will genuinely offer you diamonds in the form of friendship, just reciprocate it. i will offer you the safest, most non-judgement free zone you can imagine, you are always - always, safe with me. i just ask that you are a good, kind, compassionate friend to me. you can literally tell me anything in the world and if it isn't hurting anyone else, i will listen without judgment. i promise you. i'll also send you spotify songs that i really like, so hi. hello.
on to the fun tingz (and the stuff that will hopefully bring you in),
i'm watching my first ever anime, like ever and no we're not going to talk about my real first ever anime because it might've been a live action and it might've been death note and maybe i enjoyed it (holy crap, sueeeee me) but i have a few on my list to watch but i got pressured into this one, so far so good! let's talk about it, ask me which one it is! it's a pretty popular one lol. maybe you can guess it! either way, i'm also into horror shows/movies. i'm not really into the gory ones anymore, nor the emotional horror so i'll pass. my heart strings are saying noOoO thanks. i love watching movies with friends and even anthology shows like cabinet of curiosities, dark mirror, etc etc. i don't mind anything else! hit me up. i'll tell you some stuff i like(d)
currently, iiiiii am a graphic design major with a knack for not drawing. i mean, i guess i do like pixel art but honestly, i am still learning and trying new things everyday 💤 however, i'm in the process of changing majors to cybersecurity! which starts in June, so wish ya girl luck 💅
i am a gamer, so come game with me! i don't play league, my mental health is terrible enough, thank you. i also don't play wow, my attention span could never. i do, however, play valorant because i don't like myself that much. i got you there, didn't i? i play a few other things: CS, starting to get into overwatch 2 (please play this with me and if you ask me my rank, i'll cry), party animals, pummel party (can we please?) etc. i tend to hang out in valorant land though, i won't lie. i do not take it seriously and honestly, nor should you.. nerd.
i am ✨sPiCy✨so if that bothers you, i am sorry. i, again, am a genuinely kind person but i do have a snarkiness to me that is meant to be a slight "i love you" + dash of bully. ❤