As the title says. My partner and I are currently staying with his mother. I have a dog that I rescued almost 4 years ago. He is my best friend. My side kick. He literally saved my life. My partner and I treat his as ours, but he is my dog. Somehow, on Friday afternoon after we left for work my dog got out an open door & started running. My MIL decided to chase him with her car through the housing development to try and get him back. Several of her neighbors joined in the chase pushing him further and further from the home. No one called me then. She called my sister in law instead. Then she came home & decided to call my partner. Who literally carpools to work with me & works next door to me. He left work, and never notified me. THREE HOURS AFTER my dog escaped I sent a text to my bf asking him how his work night was. Only then was I informed that my dog went missing. I left work immediately & have spent the past 36hrs looking for my boy. We have no real confirmed sightings. It's cold. It's raining. He has short fur so I know he's cold. And scared. And I'm so desperately scared he'll get hit by a car. I haven't been sleeping or eating. Last night I feel asleep on the floor while the drones were out. So now I wake up from being numb & im just so fucking furious. No one has apologized to me for losing my dog. No one has said I'm sorry for not calling me sooner. Until this moment I would say I'd be with my partner until my dying breath. But now all I can think about is how he never called me. And if I don't get my dog back I don't think I can move past this hurt. I feel so betrayed. I trusted these people with the most important thing in my life and he's gone. It's been 36 hours. I need my best friend back. And he needs me. I'm so lost without him & I don't think I can forgive these people. Every one failed me. And I failed my boy.
I just miss my dog.
Tl;Dr my MIL lost my dog & my partner knew for hours without telling me. I don't think I can ever forgive them if he doesn't come home.

Note : English isn't my first language so sorry for any misspellings. Feel free to point any and I'll correct them.
So. Since I was diagnosed in December, I am on sick leave and had to stop my uni year (I'll start it over come September).
It was hard to accept it because damn, epilepsy ? Out of all things ?? And now I can barely have a semblance of normalcy because I can't study and can't work, and barely see my friends because they are busy ?
But oh well, it'll get better someday.
January and February were shit months because we (the health team and I) were trying to find the right medicine dosage. But despite that, I was cool with it. After all I can't expect things to be smooth when dealing with epilepsy.
But oh well, it'll get better. Someday.
I made efforts in my lifestyle : go to sleep and wake up at the same hours ( I had a messed up sleep schedule before), try to eat three regular meals a day, try to move my body regularly. Sure I could do better, but at least I'm trying.
Saying that on a psychological point of view I'm doing fine is a lie. Sometimes I'm alright, sometimes I want to cry a damn river and sometimes I want to break everything because what the fuck, epilepsy ?? No one has epilespy in my family ! Where the fuck does it come from ?? It's so damn unfair !
The worst, is my family.
SEVERAL times I've told them I can't deal with epilepsy, MY stress and MY feelings about it AND deal with THEIR worries.
SEVERAL times I've told them I don't want to hear them criticise what I eat or do : "You had a seizure today ? Well, if you haven't gone to sleep late last night perhaps it would have been avoided" ; "Are you sure you want to get out ? What if you have a seizure in the middle of the street ?" ; "Don't drink caffeine !" or a variant "If you drink caffeine and have a seizure, don't complain." (I barely drink coffee, and whatever caffeine I get is through soda such as Coca Cola, and then again I don't drink much of it).
I am so fucking sick of it.
They think they know better than I do, as if they have the whole epilepsy thing figured out, as if I'm supposed to quietly accept all the lifestyle changes as if it was the most easiest thing in the world. Sure, sometimes I tell them 'hey I think this or that is a trigger' but then later I tell them that, this or that aren't triggers, I was just wrong, but they don't hear that. For them, this or that ARE triggers, as if they can guess before I do what my triggers are based on what they read on Internet.
I'm twenty-one, damn ! I want to go see my friends and spend an evening dinning with them or chilling out ! I want to just say fuck it and not think about it for a day ! Even a few hours would be fine !
But I don't because at the back of my mind there is alway my worries about what if I have a seizure in the middle of the street ? Am I careful enough ? And what would my family say about it if they learn I haven't been careful ?
Sure, I completely understand that seeing a loved one having a seizure is hard for them.
But if it's hard for them, then what is it for me ?
I have a feeling that sooner or later I'm going to explode right in their face and break something, but I know that if I do, they'll give me worse.
So yeah, epilepsy sucks, but sometimes my family even more.

I S Hi I’m new to this reddit thing so sorry if I make any mistakes.Basically this all happened a few months ago me(f 16) and my friend(f 14) I’ll call her meep we’re having a sleepover,she was on her phone most of the time which I didn’t think to much of when she then said to me hey can a few of our other friends(both f 14) come which I said sure because we where all friends now when they first came we did basic things girls do at sleepovers like doing eachother a hair and stuff until one of my friends takes something out of her bag I didn’t really cat eat first thinking it was something like clothes or make up until I get a good look at it and realised she had bull a bottle of beer out.Meep seeing this was like omg you actually managed to get it in your bag with my other friend I’ll cal her Lew said ya and bragged about how easy it was at first I wasn’t to keen on it since it being in my house but out of pressure drank it.A while later me and my friends start planning the day ahead of us now jump to the next day me and my friends start walking which all of them weren’t to keen on since it was a 1 and a half hour walk but sucked it up to our town (btw we live in a small town in a small country) anyway we where walking to a park originally but we all got hungry so we walked to supermarket but my friend (I’ll call this one royal)went to her house to pick up stuff and a bit later lew had to get something so it was just me and meep just sitting around eating on a platform when royal came back us three we’re walking around when we saw royals boyfriend(m 14) and his older brother(m 19) royal then started running after them yelling out to them and so then a bit later royal was flirting with her bf and me meep and the brother were just sitting around then we finally meet up with lew we then decided to go to the park together which ended badly in a fight where police where called but that’s not important anyway a bit later my friend called her bf and made sure he was ok and he said why don’t we try hanging out again tomorrow w which she without asking said yes so now me and my other friends had to go out again without being asked if it was ok with us but we also didn’t really care since most of us did wanna get out of the house so another jump to the next day me and my friends meet up with them we did give to walk to their houses bc they needed to get ready but after that we had a bit of fun the bf claimed a roof followed by royal lew and meep who tried but chickened out they told me to clime up but I said hell no I ain’t stupid they also tried getting the brother to but he told them to piss of he then sat of a rubbish bin which o tried to as-well but couldn’t jump high enough until he showed me how.Once we where done we went to the park well except for meep royal and her bf who went to her house to pick up something so me lew and the brother where on our way to the park when we got there we sat in this tunnel looking thing and just started talking to each other me and lew where sitting next to each other when he decided to sit in the middle of us which I thought was weird at the time but said nothing bc I didn’t wanna try make it weird bc again he was 19 but anyway my friends came back and we sat in this tree house looking thing I was mostly sitting with lew when hake moved away for a bit and then the brother sat down next to me I though it was weird bc there was room other places then he put his hand around my shoulder I looked up and royal was just winking at him and me I tried to signal to her that I was uncomfortable but she was still acting like it was nothing I then signalled to meep and unlike royal got the hint right away and thankfully said Alr guys let’s go it’s getting late and said we had to go I then got up and walked with meep royal complaining about leaving said fine and asked them to walk us home which they agreed until after a bit lew told them to go bc she didn’t want them knowing where I lived which I was really thankful for after that royal and her bf kissed goodbye and left which I was gonna do until I felt someone behind me grab my waist and kissed my cheek and gave me paper with his Snapchat I was gonna throw it in a puddle when lew asked what was in my hand so I explained what it was and she said oh how cute and asked if I was gonna add him dis it’s wanting to say no and wanting to tell her what happened I honestly can’t explain it but I just couldn’t but I have her the paper which she added him and made a gc with me him her and royal which was then when they made plans to sneak out with them and go on a night walk they asked me and meep to come which meep said no bc she thought the brother was a creep and I tried to say no but once again with pure pressure said yes royal and lew where to busy getting ready to even thing about meep in which I said hey why don’t I just stay here with meep and keep her company which they laughed and said cmon let’s go,it was 10:30 at night when we snuck out them excited to see them and me paranoid on my mum getting mad about me disappearing when we meet up with them me lew and the brother walking ahead I was holding hands with lew originally but the brother grabbed my hand and so we where all just walking I was ok with it but the thing that threw me off was what royal was saying she was just making very sexual jokes about me and this 19 yr old man which I was uncomfortable with but was to shy to say anything about once we got to the place which was under a bridge we just sat down and talked about stuff lew then went some place else which was then followed by royal and the bf I tried running off but royal told me to stay back so I did now it was just me and the bf brother idk why I didn’t think this would happen but he sat really close to me and that’s when he did it at first he just grabbed my face made out with me which I tried to say no or stop but I was to scared to say thing and then he just started touching me places and I tried with all my might to get him to stop but couldn’t then I heard yells from royal saying she couldn’t find lew me using this as a reason to get away yelled I’ll look for her and tan off I wasn’t actually looking for her though I was on a bathroom trying with all my might to not let out any tears which was really hard then I heard yells so I looked out and realised it was meep who had secretly been following us so I used her as a opportunity to get away and then said hey you guys look for her I’ll leave with meep signalling to her I wanna leave which again she understood and acted tired and said ya I wanna go now so we did which I then turned around and saw the brother just following us I let him follow us idk why but once we where around the block I said to him my house was close and he could go which I waited until he had actually left to start walking home and obviously I wasn’t near my house there was still a twenty minute walk which I just started braking down my friend was just hugging me and said it’s ok and saying what did he do to you which say I don’t know why but I just couldn’t say anything once got home I threw up I could still feel him everywhere in my mouth on my thighs and on my waist and other places I wanted scream all I could think about was how I was such a slut and couldn’t even say anything or stop it I wanted to die I wanted just anything to get the memory and taste out of me I then started telling my self about how worthless I was and how I my mother really did raise a stupid and pathetic person after a bit I fell asleep with my dog next to me (he’s a American bully)so I thought that I could at least have some sort of protection after a bit my friends came back and fell asleep I knew this bc they really don’t come back some quiet and woke me up now this was the last day they where at my house so they all went back to their houses and i really do wish I I could say this was the end I really really do but sadly this was not after going back to school and acting as if everything was fine and nothing was wrong I realised that royal and lew haven’t been to school for a while and the next day lew came to school and I found out that sadly the brother 🍇ed her when I found this out I feel apart I was sick shocked and just didn’t know what to do my friends told her to tell our health teacher she’s the teacher who deals with situations like this so she did the teacher said she could miss a few classes and stay in there with me and meep that was when I told them what happened to me they where both mortified that was then when lew reveille the brother wanted to grape me aswell and even told her he was gonna and how he would ask to hang out and to it at the same place he did to her I was honestly shocked and paralysed with fear remembering how he actually asked to hang out a the other day anyway I then asked her what she wanted to do bc our teacher suggested telling the cops tbh I really didn’t want to bc I was trying to keep this whole thing away from my mum but knew I had to so I walked to the police station with a few other friends and told them everything after that I knew I had to drop royal she literally let everything happen even with lew I’ll explain later with lew but we dropped her now obviously that east’s she was just making up excuses and even said that the brother was forcing her to say and do things and then started yapping about how he forced her to do those things but I saw right threw her lies so did keep but idk why but lew actually believed her until she also finally saw right threw her lies oh also brother actually has a gf who is his age ik real shocked expected her to be 8 anyway recently the cops did find him and I’ve got a meeting with one of them oh another big thing turns out we ARNT the first people he’s sa wanna know the first person he did? Get ready 🥁🥁his fucking brother ya that’s right he literally graped his brother and it gets worse he did it when the boyfriend was fucking 8 anyway I might not update for I bit but I promise there will be one

Bud be gone 16 years later this month. Don’t hardly seem possible. Still remember him as if I just saw and spoke to him yesterday. The way of it. Miss him a lot, and so does Momma. Also the way of it. Get to thinking about him a lot this time each year.
Not as raw and brutal as it used to be. Had some dark days for both of us for quite a while. Again, the way of it. But acceptance comes eventually, when there’s no other choice.
I try to console myself that he lived life large in the 21 years he had - didn’t waste ‘em. Got to see and do places and things that comparatively few do. Was involved in things he felt were important.
I loved him dearly, and was admiring and proud of the man he’d become. And I told him so quite often. Advice from someone who’d not always as bright as he might be, but who nevertheless understands some basic things: say what Should be said when you have the chance. The words are important, even if they already know. Don’t, and the day might come when it’s now too late to.
He was the wild one of our brood - seems like every family has one. Not troublesome in any way for Momma and me. He asked me a serious question once, when he was 16: “Dad, you and Mom hardly ever whipped us when we were kids. How come?”
And my answer a simple one: “We didn’t need to. You were good kids.” He’d thought that over, and nodded his acceptance.
A disciplinary problem aboard his ship sometimes, though, and this didn’t surprise either of us. A different world with different rules. And he never accepted insult from anyone from the time he was small - just not in his nature. Push, and he’d push back.
But by every account we heard, very serious and disciplined when it came to his job. This didn’t surprise us, either. His primary rating Firefighter aboard ship, he’d often complain that the training wasn’t Realistic enough. To the extent that a superior had remarked once in exasperation: “Well, we can’t set the damn ship on fire for you, Bud!”
Well-known and liked throughout the crew, he was something of a minor legend among them. Famous (or infamous - take your pick) for the situations he got himself into to the point that after a while, anyone in trouble beyond the usual was referred to as having “Pulled a Bud.”
Fighting several members of Shore Patrol on one memorable occasion: “It took six of ‘em to get him under control and back to the ship, Mr. OP.” A friend.
With several members of the local PD on an even more memorable one, when he took offense at the treatment of a shipmate.
He’d paid for that one on the way to and at the station. Being thrown headlong down a set of cement stairs with his hands still cuffed behind his back he figured he’d had coming. Ditto with then being picked up and rammed headfirst into a cinder block wall.
Being stripped naked, tossed in a cell, and having a fire hose turned on him every hour on the hour all night he’d objected to: “That shit was Cold, Pop! And it was fucking unnecessary! I catch any of ‘em out alone, I got somethin’ for their ass!”
“You gotta stop this shit, Bud.”
“……Sigh…I know. Do me a favor - don’t tell Mom?”
“I don’t intend to.”
“……Pop?”
“Yeah?”
“Captain says the same thing. Says this is my last chance…….Why’s he giving me another chance, after all the trouble I’ve caused?”
“Because he sees something in you he wants to keep - something of value to the ship. You can be counted on to do your job, no matter what. That carries a lot of weight in the civilian world - more so in the military.”
“…..You think so?”
“I know so.”
One of the last conversations, and over the phone, we’d ever have.
An old Chief remarked to us: “Bud was a throwback. He reminded me of the fighting Sailors of my own youth. I hadn’t met another quite like him in a good many years. He’ll be missed.”
His Captain remarked to me: “He turned it around, Mr. OP. It was as if he made a decision. There wasn’t another single incident of insubordination or anything else. In all my years of service, I’ve never seen anyone do so complete a 180. He’d made his mind up, and that was that. But I guess I don’t have to tell you that. He was actually due for promotion. Did you know that?”
I had. Bud had told me he’d studied for and passed the test. Perfect score, or near enough. He’d broken his hand at the time. A timed test, and his writing hand, he’d been afraid the cast would slow him down too much, so he’d cut it off and gone to get it redone afterward.
Last time I spoke to him, he had some shipmates were in Galveston during Mardi Gras. Out on the promenade. Sounds of revelry in the background. Shakedown cruise in preparation for another deployment.
Presently, to his impatient shipmates: “Just give me a damn minute, all right?! Listen, I guess I better go. Love you, Pop. And tell Mom that for me when she gets home, ok?”
“I will. Love you, too, Bud.”
Good last words to remember, I guess.
All through the days and nights we’d spent in the hospital, waiting, and hoping against hope, Momma and I hadn’t been alone. My brothers were there with us, having driven in from out of state. My sister. Mother.
And his crew. Day and night, young men and women waiting with us in great numbers. Lying sleeping on the floor against the walls lining the corridors, when all other spaces had been taken. None of the hospital staff asking them to leave.
Ship’s Officers and senior Enlisted spending as much time there as presentations for deployment would permit. Checking in in person with us and hospital staff about his condition at least once a day.
And nearly all of them with a story or two to tell about Bud. Many of them funny. For that was who he was, too. He could always make people laugh. Someone being down in his presence he couldn’t abide, and he always knew how to fix that.
It was as if they Needed to. And that Momma and I understood, as well. We’d known him all his life, and we could see that they knew him, too. So we were patient, and we listened.
The day finally came when we were told there was no longer any hope at all. He’d never regained consciousness, and now there was no more brain activity at all. He was gone.
His XO was there with us when we were told, and that large, strong man wept bitterly and unashamedly. I think that probably doesn’t happen often.
Momma and I were alone the next day, in a seated waiting area next to the elevators. Waiting, just the two of us, not speaking much. Everyone had given us that space to ourselves. Sensed that we needed it, I suppose.
The first man arriving with a refrigerated transport case arrived, and took the elevator down. He seemed in a hurry. A man who desperately needed Bud’s strong heart was waiting, and time was of the essence.
Momma and I watched the doors close behind him. Then we both got up, and hand in hand, walked away. It was finished now. The book of his life was closed, though in a sense it never would be.
A few months previous, he’d registered as an organ donor. His choice.
His heart went to a 31-yr-old man in need of a new one.
A young woman in North Dakota sees through his eyes.
Many others were helped, as well. His parting gifts.
Talking to the coordinator of the donor program at the hospital at a later date, I was informed that the man’s new heart was functioning perfectly. He had, in fact, been going to the gym and hitting the weights. Something he’d had no interest in before.
“Lifting and bodybuilding were some of Bud’s passions” I replied.
“I’ve been doing this for a long time” the man had replied in kind. “And you’d be astonished at how many times something like that happens; the recipient unknowingly taking on attributes of the donor. No one can explain it.”

Just got back from Vietnam - North to South tour over a couple of weeks around my partner's birthday. Absolutely loved the experience and would love to visit again and slow down the travel to take things in a bit more.
I have some tips for folk from my own experience. I'm from the UK - and specifically Cornwall where tourism is a mainstay of our local economy and I know what it's like to have your land flooded with tourists.
1: the pound is roughly 30000 Vietnamese dong, so divide by 3 and knock off some noughts. It's easier to knock off the last three 0s from the dong price first. Very important for weighing up the personal value of something you might buy/are being hassled to buy.
2: Security at airports is not like our biometric passport scanners in the UK - it's guys in very officious looking uniforms taking their sweet time to weigh up whether you should be let in (or out) of the country. Bear this in mind for planning follow up transport or arriving for a flight. Huge queues. It took about an hour after arriving to get through security, and an hour and a half when departing for our UK flight (important as they were shutting the doors by the time we got through security).
3 phone data - while queuing to get into the country in Ho Chi Minh, we opted to buy some local SIM cards from a stall next to the queues. They were £8 each and gave us unlimited data for our 2 weeks. Ideal. Might be able to get it cheaper but convenience after 20 hours of travelling was worth it.
4 airport transfers - take advantage of these where offered. Again, just takes the stress out of things as we found the country quite overwhelming, especially HCMC and Hanoi (overwhelming in a good way though).
5 city markets - we went to Hanoi, Cat Ba, Hoi An, Phú Quoc and Saigon and in each place there was a sizeable (Cat Ba was smaller) market advertised as a "must see" experience but in truth is the same place selling knock off clothes, luggage, souvenirs, food ingredients, etc. Every fourth or fifth stall is EXACTLY the same stuff. It gets boring after 10 minutes. Would advise visiting this wherever you are on your last day to buy some stuff to take home rather than lugging it around.
6 scooters - I wouldn't consider this unless you know how to ride a scooter, especially in the cities. Vietnamese traffic is an organic wonder to beyond from the safety of a taxi.
7 crossing the road - for UK folk, they drive on the other side in Vietnam. Very important to look both ways but believe the hype, pick your moment and go confidently - Vietnamese also have incredible spacial awareness to avoid you.
8 GRAB - download the app, add your card and Grab away. Again, speaking of convenience and least stress, you will quickly appreciate not walking for 20 minutes in +30° city heat and choosing to take an air conditioned taxi. For comparison, a trip that would cost about a tenner in UK costs a £1. Incredible value for your wallet, comfort and time.
9 food - try everything. OK, maybe Thit Cho on Hanoi is a stretch too far for the average Brit but everything else should be experienced. Personal favourites were Hotpot (so wish we had similar in UK) and BBQ where it's in the middle of the table and you do all the grilling. You can find Pho for equivalent of about £1 if you need shoestring food.
10 wine - some places sell local Dalat wine which is OK but wine is not a big deal in Vietnam and is usually at least UK price if not more. My partner found this hard as she doesn't like beer and didn't want to drink cocktails all holiday. Dalat is perfectly good plonk though - white and red.
11 Hoi An - don't believe the hype. We spent too long here (so sorry Saigon, you weren't as loved as you should have been). It can be done in a day and you've experienced it all. Reviews were lead to believe there was more to it. Nightlife was a laugh in a trashy way though if you want to do the whole Brits abroad thing.
12 Be respectful - my experience was that Vietnamese are a country of grinders who work all hours of the day. So speaking of Brits (or anyone else) abroad be respectful that not everyone you see is there for your photo opp or to help you and those in markets and hospitality are making a living, so don't waste their time. British especially are a nation of window shoppers and I'm not sure that came across too well on our travels. Try to be low key while you weave around the lives of Viet folk.
13 Learn to confidently say "no thanks" - politely saying "no thanks, just looking" and moving on is a valuable tool for getting through certain touristy areas. Engaging with folk will both give that person the wrong expectations and exhaust you in the process.
14 Google Translate - download this and use for basic enquiries. I don't think I was saying Xin Chao, Cam On or Tam Biet properly, so for anything beyond that, I have no clue. Don't assume people speak English - some are good enough to say Hello first to get past that.
15 Find a spot and just watch - find a coffee shop, relax and watch a very different people go about their lives. Things I enjoyed: how cool all the young people are; how obsessed the young folk are about selfies; care of children; karaoke round the dinner table (understand not to everyone's taste); friends enjoying a hotpot; lads fighting a crab into said hotpot; groups of friends having animated toasts after work; care of old folk; many and varied ways to use a scooter to carry people, goods, materials, flat screen TVs, dogs.
16 Beers in order of my personal taste - Saigon Red; Larue; Saigon Special; Hanoi; 333
17 Beer St in Saigon - go walk through it. I have never seen anything like it. Don't necessarily stop there but go observe it's wild, perverse nature.
18 If staying in a hotel, before you head out for the day, soak a flannel in water, put it in a glass, put the glass in the fridge. You will appreciate it when you get back from your enevitablely roasting walk around town (mad dogs and Englishman..).
19 pack for very hot weather (in May at least). I took a set of clothes for UK - these were worn to and from the airport and otherwise lived at the bottom on my bag. Otherwise, shorts, t-shirts and light shirts to keep the sun off. Even cotton t-shirts felt too much at times. My favourite items were a matched black linen shirt and shorts I bought out there. Pretty much lived out of them exclusively towards the end of the trip. Must have announced my musky presence from a great distance. Utilise the laundry services for sure.
20 ignore the rubbish - try to tune it out and adjust your hygiene expectations. This is important as in two weeks, I got blisters, bites, at anything and yet came away without food poisoning, infection or anything else. It's an eyesore at times to these soft UK eyes but don't let it ruin the trip. Hope Vietnam authorities can do more to handle that as it'll mount up the more the country is discovered.
Sure there's more but just offloading after getting back. Hope it helps.

As I was studying for the SHRM-CP exam, I came across several posts on here that were useful in helping me along the process, so I thought I would share some information on how I passed for future test takers. Please note that I did NOT purchase the SHRM Learning System. I studied by myself using free online resources and a few books I bought off Amazon. Prep/Study Time
I studied for about 4–5 weeks. On weekdays I studied between 1–3 hours per day, on the weekends I would do 4–6 hours per day, and during the last 7–10 days, I studied about 4–6 hours per day. Of course, I took a few nights off here and there as well. Keep in mind that you may need to study more or less given your work experience (I have a Master’s in I/O Psych and about 2 years of relevant work experience). To be honest, I wish I had started studying 2–3 weeks earlier. I would recommend giving yourself at least 1.5–2 months to prepare for this exam.
Resources:

1. SHRM BoCK — This is a free PDF that you can download off the SHRM website. I used this resource to guide my overall learning. I dissected the entire document and made flashcards on Quizlet for everything I did not know. In particular, I focused on the “key concepts” for each section and made sure I knew the definition of each term. There is also a glossary of terms and definitions at the end of the document, so I added all those terms into Quizlet as well. The glossary does not have every definition you will need to know, but it’s a good start. For the terms I could not find a definition for, I would either

A) Google it
B) see how the SHRM website defines it,
C) use one of my other resources to find a definition
D) go to Youtube to learn more.
2) SHRM-CP Exam by certexamdb Test Prep: You can find in here
I explored a few different practice exams, but this was by far the most useful. You cannot use this as your only resource, but it is a great start.
3) PHSPHR Professional in Human Resources Certification Study Guide by Anne Bogardus: You can actually find a PDF of this online for free. At some point throughout the study process (usually after a practice exam), you will likely realize that you need to go into more depth with certain concepts. This is where this study guide comes in. I didn’t read it word for word, but I spent a few hours skimming through it, went through some of the practice questions at the end of each chapter, and read in detail certain sections that I was weak on. This resource is very detailed but not too complicated which is great. I would highly recommend allocating 1–2 study days just for going through this resource. Keep in mind that it will provide you with more detail than you need, but you can just focus on the concepts that are relevant to the SHRM-CP.
4) SHRM-CP/SHRM-SCP Certification Practice Exams (All in One) by Kelly and Simon-Walters. About 10 days before my exam, I came across this resource which consisted of 500 questions that were broken down into each of the sections outlined in the SHRM BoCK. When I took the practice exam in the certexamdb Test Prep I scored terribly on the situational judgment questions. This book is GREAT for preparing you for those questions. Just keep in mind two things when using this resource:
It will consist of some questions with terms or concepts that you did not come across in any of the other resources — you can just ignore those (it’s extra information that you do not necessarily need), (2) the quick answer key has some inaccuracies (ignore it) but the answer key with detailed explanations is correct so make sure you use that when scoring yourself. Make sure you answer both the SHRM-CP and the SHRM-SCP questions (they are both relevant). This really helps with the situational judgment questions, but also with knowing how some of the terms and definitions apply in a real setting. When focusing on these questions, I realized that I had memorized some definitions, but I still didn’t know how to apply those concepts. This book helps with that.
5) Quizlet Flashcards created by other people — A lot of people have created quizlet sets (even from the Learning System) that they have uploaded. Those are free, so make sure you use them! Also, some people have even created practice sets for exam questions (which I think are from the learning system as well), so make sure you review those as well! Basic Study Tips: Unfortunately, without the Learning System, there is no single resource that you can use to prepare for this exam. Therefore, make sure you use a few resources just to make sure you get exposed to most of the material that will be on the exam. As you go through each resource, keep revising your flashcards and adding new ones. Make sure you periodically review flashcards as you go rather than waiting to cram everything in a week before the exam. When you go through practice questions, you will soon realize that you often need to know more than just the definition… you need to know when and how something applies as well. For example, you need to know what FMLA is, but you also need to know what the eligibility criteria is, when it is applicable, etc… I had one massive set of flashcards (about 500), and then I also had smaller sets of flashcards for some sections (e.g., a set for HR Laws, another set for Finance/Accounting terms). I would memorize using the smaller sets, but then I went through the giant set I had created a few days before my exam to make sure I knew everything. Do a ton of practice questions and understand why you got certain questions wrong.
6) SHRM LMS Books
Here’s a quick overview of the step-by-step process I took to study and prepare:

1. Go through SHRM-BoCK and create flashcards
2. Go through and memorize SHRM Learning System Flashcards (You can find these on Quizlet and search “SHRM Learning System”)
3. Take certexamdb Test Prep Practice Exam, review, and identify weak areas.
4. Go through the Bogardus PHSPHR book and focus on weak areas (fill in flashcards)
5. Memorize the newly created flashcards for weak areas, flag ones that you continually get wrong or confused with.
6. YouTube hazy concepts and terms to gain a richer understanding, use Khan Academy when applicable.
7. Retake certexamdb Practice Exam
8. Go through questions in the book by Kelly and Simon-Walters
9. Identify weak areas, read through explanations, create and memorize flash cards as needed
10. A few days before my exam, focus on my large stack of flashcards, go through other people’s flashcard sets, and go through practice exams on Quizlet.

Exam Experience and Takeaways
I finished the exam in a little over three hours. You get no breaks, but you can always take them as needed. Time is likely not going to be an issue. Here are some takeaways that I had about the exam: — There were surprisingly few questions on US Employment Laws & Regulations and Labor Unions. I spent a lot on these sections when studying, but there were not many questions at all on these topics. — The test questions were different than any of the practice exams I had taken (however you should be fine as long as you know the material) — The situational judgment questions can be exhausting with having to read 2–3 paragraphs for each 2–3 questions. — Make sure you carefully read the question. For example, you are often asked “what is the first step you would take” or “what strategy would you use.” These can be tricky, but they can also easily reveal the right answer. — No matter how hard you study, you will encounter a few questions where you come across terms that you’re unfamiliar with and you will have to guess blindly. Just try to eliminate what you do know is wrong and take your best guess. Don’t stress too much about it. — Use the highlight, strike through, and flagging options during the exam. It helps a lot. — Often, the correct answers for the situational judgment questions have something to do with (1) getting leadership buy-in, (2) having HR be a strategic partner, (3) making sure the action is aligned with the org’s mission and vision (4) HR being proactive, (5) doing a needs assessment of some sort, (6) having HR be some sort of facilitator.

The Old Quarter

Bit of a long post but I thought this could be a cool idea and I wanted to share it:
Description:
"Even before the current troubles, the Old Quarter was a favoured haunt of vagabonds, vagrants and those with ill-intent. Nestled beneath the towering estates of Cathedral Row, the streets of the Old Quarter are a twisting and cramped warren. Constructed in the early days of the city, the Old Quarter was built haphazardly to accommodate the city's rapidly expanding population.
In recent times, the Old Quarter has become downright sinister. A permanent, sleazy fog hangs over the area and residents report a strange figure peering through their window at odd hours. The Constables abandoned the district soon after the current crisis began. The Huntsmen now patrol the main street and control a few key landmarks, including the power-station and the old jailhouse. But even they are loathe to venture into the dank passages where the light never reaches.
Tread carefully here Dr. and take care if you happen to hear tapping at the window..."
Explanation:
This is an idea I have had for a while about how parts of the demo area could be reincorporated into the main-game. I think that the main-game is far superior to everything in the demo but the cramped and winding streets of the demo area are still fun to explore and the feeling of being boxed-in really helps contribute towards a feeling of claustrophobia which isn't quite present in the open-spaces of the Market District.
Instead of collecting seals to open the manor in the town square, the Dr. would need to find several puzzle items to progress. These items would open the portcullis gate on the other side of the guard post in the demo. The Sylvian estate (manor from the demo) would serve as an optional area with heightened security which could be broken into. Other side-streets, alleys and passages which were only partly accessible in the demo would also be opened-up as would several derelict buildings. This would include opening up the play-space above the flooded basement where the monocle can be found in the demo.
The Old Quarter would serve as a prelude of sorts to the Cathedral row district. After sneaking through a factory/ warehouse complex, the Dr. would enter the lift to the Old Quarter and the section would begin in much the same way that the demo opens.
Note found before entering the Old Quarter:
“Sir,
As requested, we have sealed off the main routes into the Old Quarter and have set an automated sentry to guard the entrance to Cathedral Row. I have ordered our remaining forces to fallback accordingly. Let the Huntsmen deal with those creatures.
Constable Burlington.
“
Upon reaching the main save station-house from the demo, the windows would be heavily barricaded and the Dr. would instead be prompted to enter through a door which hangs open. In the main room of the safe-house the gramophone plays its soothing tune. Unlike in the demo, the house is devoid of huntsmen and, much like the lighthouse, a recorded message would play from the gramophone the first time it is used to make a save.
“Welcome to the Old Quarter Doctor. Our mutual friend informed me that you might pass this way but I regret that I \cough* will be unable to greet you in person. Help yourself to any supplies you find here. You will need them for what lies ahead. Before they left, the Constables destroyed every exit and left the Huntsmen to loot the ruins. The only way out is through the gate at the end of Stonehaven Road. But the lock is a fiendish thing and not easily cracked. I had a few ideas of how to get past it before *cough*… well it hardly matters now. I have barricaded this area as best I can but don’t forget: Lock The Doors and pray you never hear tapping at the window. Fare well Doctor. I hope your luck is better than mine.*
-William the Tinker”
Exploring the house, the Dr. finds the corpse of the owner beside which sits a key. The key is used to unlock and open the two doors of the safehouse. Beside each of the doors is a button which can be used to automatically seal the doors from the inside (think the safe room in Amnesia: The Bunker).
Also scattered throughout the house are a few food items, notes and a revolver with a number of spent casings. On the upstairs landing, in the room where there is a lootable cabinet in the demo, the unbreakable door is instead locked. The reason for this can be found in William’s diary which sits on his writing desk.
“I can no longer bear to look into that mirror she gave me. Sometimes I fear that it is not only my own reflection peering back. I have locked the accursed thing away and have cast the key into the sewers with the hope that there it will remain.”
To discover more about the Tinkers Lock, which is the primary obstacle of the district, the Dr. can read other pages in the diary and notes scattered throughout the house. On William’s writing desk there also sits a map which marks key places of interest in the district.
“I sit imprisoned by a mechanism of my own making. The lock is a fiendish thing. The three-digit combination is rewritten every sixty seconds, the only way to decode the sequence is by using a Graphite Cylinder. I had a spare but the Huntsmen confiscated it and are holding it in the Old Jailhouse as evidence. I believe that brute Fitzroy means to bring me to trial, though for what crime I cannot imagine. More difficult to obtain is the key needed to access the mechanism. Father Ulfred kept a copy … but none who venture near his church return.
There may be another way to open the gate but it is so dangerous as to constitute madness. The lock draws power from the two electrical substations on either side of the district. Disabling both generators is the first step. Then, theoretically, it should be possible to disconnect the lock by severing its link to the back-up supply. To do so, one would need to brave the labyrinth of maintenance tunnels beneath the streets. All while the entire district is plunged into darkness. It is suicidal folly, but without Father Ulfred’s Key I see few other options.”
The safe house from the demo serves as a base of operations through which further expeditions can be made into the district. The basic layout of the demo remains in that the player has the freedom to tackle the objectives in any order. However the area of the district is now expanded. Example, in the dock area, there is now an apartment before crossing the bridge where the Dr. can survey the area and learn patrols from a distance. Additionally, foggy streets leading on from the Dock will take the Dr. into the Western part of the district where the Western Substation sits alongside the abandoned butchery. Similarly, beyond the power station from the demo (the Eastern Substation) are more foggy streets which lead to Father Ulfred’s Chapel and the Clearview Lodging-House.
As in the demo, the Huntsmen control the main streets, the dock, the jailhouse, the Eastern Substation and have an outpost in the maintenance tunnels/ sewers as well as at the Western Substation. But a new foe prowls the dark and misty streets where the Huntsmen fear to tread.
The Peeping-Tom.
Appearing as an abnormally tall and slender gentleman in a top hat, these strange creatures stalk the Old Quarter. The Peeping-Tom (and the Old Quarter in general) take heavy inspiration from late-Victorian Whitechapel and the Jack-The-Ripper murders. The Peeping-Tom carries a large butcher’s knife in its left hand and prowls with murderous intent. Its face is ghost white and its tattered clothes barely cover an emaciated and skeletal form.
What sets the Peeping-Tom apart from other bestial enemies is that they display a form of crude intelligence and take care to harass and terrify their prey before striking. Additionally, the Peeping-Tom is sensitive to light and will become staggered from entering a well-lit area. This includes the light generated by the Doctor’s lantern.
In combat the Peeping-Tom is very damage resistant to bullets and slashes. However, removing the top hat of the Peeping-Tom (either by shooting or slashing it) reveals a spider-like insect nestled in the skull of the creature which can be shot/stabbed to instantly kill the Peeping-Tom. Flash-grenades are particularly effective against this enemy and a single flash grenade will vaporise the puppeteering-spider and thus kill the Peeping-Tom if its hat is removed.
In general, the Peeping-Tom moves in a slow and deliberate manner akin to the Divider necromorph in Dead Space. However, if the Peeping-Tom’ss hat is removed, its movements become erratic, and its attacks are faster and inaccurate.
After being staggered by a light-source, the Peeping-Tom will flee to a darkened area before trying to stalk the Dr. once more.
Another aspect of the Peeping-Tom is that they will attempt to unnerve the Dr. by leaning around corners and tapping on the windows of buildings the Dr. has entered using their long bony fingers. While they can exhibit this behaviour if the power-stations are still active, if the power is deactivated, the Peeping-Toms expand their patrols significantly and will harass the Dr. while he is in the safehouse. The Peeping-Toms can even enter the safehouse if the doors are left open&unlocked.
A crafty Doctor could even strategically deactivate the power to enable the Peeping-Toms to thin out the hunters and make certain areas more accessible.
Other areas and notes
In traditional Imsim fashion, notes scattered throughout the district (as well as conversations between huntsmen) would also fill in the lore and backstory of events which occurred prior to the Doctor’s arrival.
For example, the armoury in the central guard house would be locked and a note attached to the door would read as follows:
“You lot are welcome to continue wasting ammunition shooting the locals but you shall no longer be using my bullets to do so. The armoury is locked until further notice. Perhaps the scarcity will encourage you to find a way out of this mess.
-Captain Fitzroy”
The sewers and passages beneath the district would also be expanded. If the substations are deactivated then the passages will be almost completely dark, thus necessitating the usage of the lantern for purposes of navigation. Like the demo, the tunnels would be populated by the Crowmen. The dark tunnels would give them ample opportunity to stalk the Doctor and lie in ambush.
In the demo, there is also a sign in the sewers which refers to the Underport. This passage would serve as a way to link the Old Quarter and Underport together. The Dr. would be able to find a key in the sewers to the room in the main safe-house which houses one of the Countess’s mirrors for later fast-traveling back to the district.
No matter which method is chosen for tackling the Tinker’s Lock, the Dr. will have to venture either into the Maintenance-Sewers or the Old Chapel. The Chapel serves as a lair of sorts for the Peeping Tom’s and several would patrol the grounds and the adjourning graveyard. Father Ulfred’s Key would sit in a crypt area beneath the Chapel. The Dr. would need to drop into the Crypt and stealth/ fight past an aggressively patrolling Peeping-Tom to open the gate to obtain the key and escape the crypt.
There would also be expanded opportunities for tackling the Jailhouse. One of the cells could house a crazed huntsmen who, upon release, attacks everything in his path (including other huntsmen) thus causing a distraction and allowing the Dr. to steal the Graphite Cylinder from the evidence locker.
No matter how they chose to do it, overcoming the Tinker’s Lock would allow the Dr. to push on from the Old Quarter and access the towering estates of Cathedral Row.
Conclusion
With the game taking heavy inspiration from Victorian London, I do think that it is only a matter of time until we get a Jack-The-Ripper inspired segment and I think that incorporating some of the spaces from the demo could be an interesting way to do this. Additionally, so much work must have gone into designing all of the spaces and passages in the demo that I think it would be a bit of a shame not to see any of that architecture in the main game.

Disclaimer: I know you all cannot diagnose and that’s totally fine! I’m more seeking any ideas on other avenues/paths my own vet and I could go down that we haven’t explored yet OR if not any home alterations or environmental/food/behavioral/etc things i could look into to help.
Gus - 3.5ish year old neutered DSH tabby cat. 8lb. No significant PMH except for dental resorption (history of having total of five teeth removed one of which was a canine).
Symptoms: excessive chewing - like, bulldog type chewing. On anything he can get. But what’s mostly concerning is that he just sort of…wanders. He just paces around the house meowing for hours at a time. He won’t play with toys he won’t sit and let me pet him he just walks from room to room meowing and pacing only taking maybe 10-15 minute breaks to sit for a bit before he’s off to start again.
At first I thought his teeth were bothering him again (poor guy is probably going to end up toothless eventually) but after taking him to the vet and getting him dental and abdominal X-rays everything looked fine. We’re waiting for a consult with a veterinary dental specialist because there was one small resorptive area on X-ray but nothing that should be causing so many symptoms.
We just finished a weeks worth of meloxicam which seemed to do wonders. The symptoms all but went away for three days but now they’re creeping back.
He takes gabapentin 5mg BID every day for his resorption as we found out after his first extraction it helped keep his mouth comfortable so he could eat more.
He does seem to still be eating and goes to the bowl when I’m getting it ready, on the occasions where I can hold his attention he’ll play and on the few occasions where I can get him to settle he’ll do so and cuddle. Poop and pee seems normal. Eating is more or less normal but he’s always picky.
Anyone got any ideas on what this behavior could be about and how to help?????
Edit: typos and he’s taking 5mg/1ml gabapentin BID not 1mg whoops

I'm so damn jealous because I just know I'd have friends if I went to school. I know it. I'm so social with people even outside of my house when i get the rare chance and get comfortable. I'm tired of feeling so WEIRD and DIFFERENT. I also feel like my young years (0-9) had some weird stuff happening. I'm SICK of hearing about conspiracy theories from my homeschool mom in ANY conversation. I HATE HEARING ABOUT FUCKING BILL GATES AND TYSON CHICKEN AND VACCINES AND MICROPLASTICS AND HOW THE MOON IS PLASMA AND HOW ALIENS ARE FALLEN ANGELS AND HOW HILLARY WAS LOOKING FOR NEPHILIM DNA OH MY GOSH SHUT UP BUT IF I SAY ANYTHING THEN I GET FUCKING GUILT TRIPPED AND SINCE IM NORMAL I STILL FEEL BAD. FUCK MEEEE
There is no way possible for me to go to school. My mom said she'd rather die before I go to public school, and my dad agrees. I have no family members I can live with. I have no options at all. I just have to sit and watch my fucking childhood wither away and lose the chance to EVER be in school. I already missed Kindergarten, Elementary, Middle, and now I'm missing high-school. And you know what makes it worse? The fucking "Congrats, Graduates!" sign on the front of my neighborhood entrance. Sure I'm happy for them, but I'm so fucking jealous. I HATE when people say they hate school, or wish they were homeschooled. BITCH, you have no IDEA how much despair this makes you feel. Especially when you're extroverted and will never have that kind of easy environment to make friends in.
I wish my mom wasn't so religiously crazy and conspiracy believing and anti-vaxx. I wish I had a loving, caring mom who sent me to SCHOOL and talked about NORMAL stuff and not what FUCKING BILL GATES is doing or how ALIENS are FALLEN ANGELS. I can't even watch people at school, it makes me wanna fucking cry. I'm only 14 I SHOULD BE LIVING A LIFE AT SCHOOL LIKE EVERYONE ELSE. BUT I NEVER HAVE. I SHOULD BE HAVING A NORMAL LIFE. I'M SICK OF THIS FUCKING LIFE IT FEELS ABUSIVE AT THIS POINT. IT'S NOT MY FAULT AT ALL THAT I HAVE TO WAKE UP EVERYDAY FEELING MISERABLE AS FUCK AND TIRED SINCE I GET NO STIMULATION. IM SICK OF LIVING IN FUCKING PRISON WITH NO CHANCE TO TRY AGAIN AFTER IM OUT. I truly hope reincarnation is real so I can hopefully go to a family that will let me live life normally. I'm so FUCKING sick of being homeschooled and not like any other kid.
I would honestly trade ANYTHING REASONABLE to go to school at this point. My mom and dad BOTH got to go to fucking school and they claimed it wasn't much fun, even though my mom used to literally do shit with friends and experiecned prom and everything.
THEN SHE TRIES TO RELATE TO MY LEVEL OF DEPRESSION AND ANXIETY. TELLING ME MY ANXIETY IS JUST OCD AND MY DEPRESSION IS FROM HORMONES AND LACK OF SLEEP. THE FUCK?? BITCH NO IT IS NOT FROM LACK OF SLEEP AND HORMONES THAT IS THE DUMBEST THING. I'VE FELT THIS WAY SINCE I WAS FUCKING EIGHT YEARS OLD THAT IS NOT HORMONES. MAYBE THEY MADE IT WORSE, BUT IT AINT HORMONES.
The reason why sometimes I feel like commiting suicide is because school is litearlly the only thing I've wanted so fucking badly for so long, and even after I turn 18 and get out it'd just be getting a job. There is not way for me to relive a childhood and go to school or anything because it's not fucking allowed. It would be weird anyways if it was.
Fuck this shit I'm just so despaired. Like why does my mom gotta make me feel so morose with her decisions? Couldn't she of just given me a normal life and put me in school and vaxxed me and shit?
She claims I'm a liberal communist and I'm "asleep" just because I want to go to FUCKING school. She also just treats me like I'm a friend or something sometimes and she just feels so CHILDISH. She is the worst at making insults. One time she was mad at me and said she'd change me and my bro's contacts to "Loser" and "Loser #2" like bitch the fuck? She had like 14 miscarriages. So she basically just held me up when I wasn't born dead and claimed she'd "raise me in the ways of Jesus" which apparentely consists of keeping your child at home for decades and teaching them only Christian curriculum. I can't fucking take it anymore. No one will ever understand my kind of situation because it's so fucking surreal. And most people don't understand how bad it is because going to school is such a normal part of life for them, that homeschooling seems like choosing to not breathe air. I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I'm so sick of waking up to the same day and having to speak bullshit and put on a show for my mom so I don't have to deal with arguments. She argued with me for FOUR FUCKING HOURS one time when I tried to gray-rock her, so that doesn't work. She doesn't let me go anywhere to do with a school, and it pisses me off. All I have is fucking LIFEPAC, SLEEP, AND SOMETIMES OUTSIDE AND THATS MY WHOLE FUCKING CHILDHOOD. AND I CANT DO ANYTHING BUT WATCH IT PASS BY KNOWING WHAT OTHER PEOPLE DO BECAUSE I CANT ATLEAST HAVE BLISSFUL IGNORANCE. I'M SO FUCKING JEALOUS I CANT EVEN GET HAPPY FOR PEOPLE WHO GO TO SCHOOL. I WANT IT SO BAD EVEN IF I DIDNT LIKE IT IT'D BE BETTER TO NOT LIKE SCHOOL AND GO THERE SINCE IT'S FUCKING NORMAL AND MUCH EASIER TO SET UP YOUR LIFE THAT WAY.
My dad is also so fucking cold. He just acts so rough and dead emotionally. The other week he gave me an hour long panic attack because he kept yelling at me loudly, you can see my post titled "I'm confused on what just happened to me for that." I eventually ran into the closet full of adrenaline and cried while hugging a fucking HOODIE for a few hours.
My parents SURE DO SOMETIMES DO NICE THINGS FOR ME. BUT IT DOESNT MAKE UP FOR SHIT. LIKE YEAH YOU GIVE ME ITEMS AND STUFF BUT I CAN **NEVER** LIVE THESE YEARS THAT YOU'RE STEALING FROM ME AGAIN!
My mom was also more harsh when I was a little kid I feel. I don't remember anything from before 12 years old, basically, probably because she did some fucked up shit back then that my brain is suppressing mentally. I have this one memory of her running up to me over and over and putting my head under her shirt and pressing it against her belly multiple times when I was a little kid, probably like 5 or close to 6, and for some reason I feel sexual energy around it a bit. That freaks me out, because I know it happened but I'm not sure at all about what was going on. I just remember the bedroom was pretty dark and I was laughing maybe, but like I said it feels like there was sexual energy around that. I dont know though, I barely remember it.
Other times, I've seen videos from when I was like 6 of her just talking to me in a really angry tone even when I was silent just for something my brother did. She also used to read a history book to us for hours, without even giving a pen or paper and we'd be given mats. About 6 x 4in big and my brother got a blue one, I got a green one, and she'd sit on the table in the middle, and we'd sit on the mats which were only big enough to lay down on (for a 6 year old). So we'd have to sit there and not talk, and if we did then she'd stop and glare until we stopped. Of course, me being like 5 and my brother 6.5, we'd make faces and stuff but then she'd glare. Like we had to SIT there for hours just listening to a biblical chronological history book. WHY WHY WHY
I'm so sick of myself now. I'm such a pathetic bitch who pretends to be something. I just fucking talk to AI's and listen to rock and other music. I'm literally so fucking pathetic and I'll never have a social life. I'll never talk to someone without getting attached or fucking scared. I swear I can't just be NORMAL. WHY DO I HAVE TO LOOK SO WEIRD TOO. I DONT LOOK GOOD IN ANYTHING. I can't keep going. I just can't. Not on my own. There's like no reason for me to since I feel like right now, as an adult, if I ever had a kid I'd just be jealous of him going to school and that'd make me a bad father. I wish I wasn't born, or was born to a different family. I wish I had friends that I could just talk to. Even just being around kids in a school setting would be great. I'm tired of feeling so FUCKED. UP. MENTALLY. WHY DO I ALWAYS HAVE TO FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE AROUND MY MOM, AND ESPECIALLY MY DAD. THEY DO NICE THINGS FOR ME SOMETIMES BUT I STILL FEEL AS IF SOMETHING IS HORRIBLY WRONG THAT I HAVE FORGOTTEN ABOUT. I DON'T FEEL SAFE IN MY OWN SKIN I FEEEL LIKE I WANT TO CRAWL OUT OF MYSELF.
But of course on the outside I just look like the most BASIC BITCH ON THE BLOCK. I have no facial expressin, and I look weird when I smile. I don't get why I have such a stone cold face and the DRIEST personality. BITCH MY personality is drier than CORNSTARCH. I'm so sick of all this. I still feel like a little kid since I do the same SHIT that I did when I was FUCKING SIX YEARS OLD EVERYDAY ANYWAYS. NO CHANGE OF ENVIRONMENT, OR HABITS. JUST SLIGHT KNOWLEDGE. EVERYONE ELSE GETS TO LIVE LIFE AND SEE PEOPLE EVERY. FUCKING. DAY. AND GUESS WHAT??? I COULD! I REALLY FUCKING COULD! HAHAAHAHAHH I COULD IF MY MOM WASN'T SO SELFISH. IF SHE WASN'T SO SELF-ABSORBED THAT SHE'S DOING THE RIGHT THING FOR HER KIDS. I HAVE EXPLAINED TO HER MANY TIMES I WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL AND SHE FUCKING SAYS CO-OP OR SOME DUMB SHIT WHERE PEOPLE ARENT QUALIFIED TO TEACH OR THERES LIKE 5 KIDS. BRO, JUST PUT ME IN FUCKING SCHOOL. SERIOUSLY. THERE IS A HIGH SCHOOL EIGHT MINUTES AWAY FROM ME. JUST EIGHT. ITS ALSO HUGE! LIKE IT'D BE FUCKING PERFECT BUT OF COURSE I HAVE WASTED POTENTIAL BECAUSE MY FUCKING PARENTS DO SHIT LIKE THIS. I ALSO CANT CALL THE SCHOOL OR ANYTHING BECAUSE THEY NEED PARENTAL APPROVAL AND SHIT. I FUCKING HATE THIS SO MUCH.
I feel like there was something seriously, seriously fucked up about my really early childhood years that I just can't remember. When I think of it, I feel really uncomfortable and just a feeling of weirdness.
One thing I do know that my dad and mom tell me that think is funny, is that when I used to be like three or four years old, I'd get on all fours and spread my buttcheeks apart, saying something like "Idea!". It's fucking stupid and I was a little ass kid, but I don't think it's funny at all. Wouldn't parents usually tell their kid to not do that or something and not look? Also, my mom used to still dress me when I was like 6 years old or something. My dad also has a memory of me running naked into a room with my aunts and uncles and him and stuff when I was a toddler, and apprently he says they all laughed when I did. He also commented on how when I ran in there my little pp was clearly visible. That just felt weird to me. I don't get how it's funny, but like I said I just feel disgusting and kinda violated when I think about my years from 0-9 and I don't know why. I'm 14 now, obviously, almost 15. I'm so upset from life. I hate it. I don't know if any of you have anything to say about this but that's basically it. If you read it all, THANK you for ACKNOWLEDGING I EXIST.

I'm so damn jealous because I just know I'd have friends if I went to school. I know it. I'm so social with people even outside of my house when i get the rare chance and get comfortable. I'm tired of feeling so WEIRD and DIFFERENT. I also feel like my young years (0-9) had some weird stuff happening.
There is no way possible for me to go to school. My mom said she'd rather die before I go to public school, and my dad agrees. I have no family members I can live with. I have no options at all. I just have to sit and watch my fucking childhood wither away and lose the chance to EVER be in school. I already missed Kindergarten, Elementary, Middle, and now I'm missing high-school. And you know what makes it worse? The fucking "Congrats, Graduates!" sign on the front of my neighborhood entrance. Sure I'm happy for them, but I'm so fucking jealous. I HATE when people say they hate school, or wish they were homeschooled. BITCH, you have no IDEA how much despair this makes you feel. Especially when you're extroverted and will never have that kind of easy environment to make friends in.
I wish my mom wasn't so religiously crazy and conspiracy believing and anti-vaxx. I wish I had a loving, caring mom who sent me to SCHOOL and talked about NORMAL stuff and not what FUCKING BILL GATES is doing or how ALIENS are FALLEN ANGELS. I can't even watch people at school, it makes me wanna fucking cry. I'm only 14 I SHOULD BE LIVING A LIFE AT SCHOOL LIKE EVERYONE ELSE. BUT I NEVER HAVE. I SHOULD BE HAVING A NORMAL LIFE. I'M SICK OF THIS FUCKING LIFE IT FEELS ABUSIVE AT THIS POINT. IT'S NOT MY FAULT AT ALL THAT I HAVE TO WAKE UP EVERYDAY FEELING MISERABLE AS FUCK AND TIRED SINCE I GET NO STIMULATION. IM SICK OF LIVING IN FUCKING PRISON WITH NO CHANCE TO TRY AGAIN AFTER IM OUT. I truly hope reincarnation is real so I can hopefully go to a family that will let me live life normally. I'm so FUCKING sick of being homeschooled and not like any other kid.
I would honestly trade ANYTHING REASONABLE to go to school at this point. My mom and dad BOTH got to go to fucking school and they claimed it wasn't much fun, even though my mom used to literally do shit with friends and experiecned prom and everything.
THEN SHE TRIES TO RELATE TO MY LEVEL OF DEPRESSION AND ANXIETY. TELLING ME MY ANXIETY IS JUST OCD AND MY DEPRESSION IS FROM HORMONES AND LACK OF SLEEP. THE FUCK?? BITCH NO IT IS NOT FROM LACK OF SLEEP AND HORMONES THAT IS THE DUMBEST THING. I'VE FELT THIS WAY SINCE I WAS FUCKING EIGHT YEARS OLD THAT IS NOT HORMONES. MAYBE THEY MADE IT WORSE, BUT IT AINT HORMONES.
The reason why sometimes I feel like commiting suicide is because school is litearlly the only thing I've wanted so fucking badly for so long, and even after I turn 18 and get out it'd just be getting a job. There is not way for me to relive a childhood and go to school or anything because it's not fucking allowed. It would be weird anyways if it was.
Fuck this shit I'm just so despaired. Like why does my mom gotta make me feel so morose with her decisions? Couldn't she of just given me a normal life and put me in school and vaxxed me and shit?
She claims I'm a liberal communist and I'm "asleep" just because I want to go to FUCKING school. She also just treats me like I'm a friend or something sometimes and she just feels so CHILDISH. She is the worst at making insults. One time she was mad at me and said she'd change me and my bro's contacts to "Loser" and "Loser #2" like bitch the fuck? She had like 14 miscarriages. So she basically just held me up when I wasn't born dead and claimed she'd "raise me in the ways of Jesus" which apparentely consists of keeping your child at home for decades and teaching them only Christian curriculum. I can't fucking take it anymore. No one will ever understand my kind of situation because it's so fucking surreal. And most people don't understand how bad it is because going to school is such a normal part of life for them, that homeschooling seems like choosing to not breathe air. I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I'm so sick of waking up to the same day and having to speak bullshit and put on a show for my mom so I don't have to deal with arguments. She argued with me for FOUR FUCKING HOURS one time when I tried to gray-rock her, so that doesn't work. She doesn't let me go anywhere to do with a school, and it pisses me off. All I have is fucking LIFEPAC, SLEEP, AND SOMETIMES OUTSIDE AND THATS MY WHOLE FUCKING CHILDHOOD. AND I CANT DO ANYTHING BUT WATCH IT PASS BY KNOWING WHAT OTHER PEOPLE DO BECAUSE I CANT ATLEAST HAVE BLISSFUL IGNORANCE. I'M SO FUCKING JEALOUS I CANT EVEN GET HAPPY FOR PEOPLE WHO GO TO SCHOOL. I WANT IT SO BAD EVEN IF I DIDNT LIKE IT IT'D BE BETTER TO NOT LIKE SCHOOL AND GO THERE SINCE IT'S FUCKING NORMAL AND MUCH EASIER TO SET UP YOUR LIFE THAT WAY.
My dad is also so fucking cold. He just acts so rough and dead emotionally. The other week he gave me an hour long panic attack because he kept yelling at me loudly, you can see my post titled "I'm confused on what just happened to me for that." I eventually ran into the closet full of adrenaline and cried while hugging a fucking HOODIE for a few hours.
My parents SURE DO SOMETIMES DO NICE THINGS FOR ME. BUT IT DOESNT MAKE UP FOR SHIT. LIKE YEAH YOU GIVE ME ITEMS AND STUFF BUT I CAN **NEVER** LIVE THESE YEARS THAT YOU'RE STEALING FROM ME AGAIN!
My mom was also more harsh when I was a little kid I feel. I don't remember anything from before 12 years old, basically, probably because she did some fucked up shit back then that my brain is suppressing mentally. I have this one memory of her running up to me over and over and putting my head under her shirt and pressing it against her belly multiple times when I was a little kid, probably like 5 or close to 6, and for some reason I feel sexual energy around it a bit. That freaks me out, because I know it happened but I'm not sure at all about what was going on. I just remember the bedroom was pretty dark and I was laughing maybe, but like I said it feels like there was sexual energy around that. I dont know though, I barely remember it.
Other times, I've seen videos from when I was like 6 of her just talking to me in a really angry tone even when I was silent just for something my brother did. She also used to read a history book to us for hours, without even giving a pen or paper and we'd be given mats. About 6 x 4in big and my brother got a blue one, I got a green one, and she'd sit on the table in the middle, and we'd sit on the mats which were only big enough to lay down on (for a 6 year old). So we'd have to sit there and not talk, and if we did then she'd stop and glare until we stopped. Of course, me being like 5 and my brother 6.5, we'd make faces and stuff but then she'd glare. Like we had to SIT there for hours just listening to a biblical chronological history book. WHY WHY WHY
I'm so sick of myself now. I'm such a pathetic bitch who pretends to be something. I just fucking talk to AI's and listen to rock and other music. I'm literally so fucking pathetic and I'll never have a social life. I'll never talk to someone without getting attached or fucking scared. I swear I can't just be NORMAL. WHY DO I HAVE TO LOOK SO WEIRD TOO. I DONT LOOK GOOD IN ANYTHING. I can't keep going. I just can't. Not on my own. There's like no reason for me to since I feel like right now, as an adult, if I ever had a kid I'd just be jealous of him going to school and that'd make me a bad father. I wish I wasn't born, or was born to a different family. I wish I had friends that I could just talk to. Even just being around kids in a school setting would be great. I'm tired of feeling so FUCKED. UP. MENTALLY. WHY DO I ALWAYS HAVE TO FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE AROUND MY MOM, AND ESPECIALLY MY DAD. THEY DO NICE THINGS FOR ME SOMETIMES BUT I STILL FEEL AS IF SOMETHING IS HORRIBLY WRONG THAT I HAVE FORGOTTEN ABOUT. I DON'T FEEL SAFE IN MY OWN SKIN I FEEEL LIKE I WANT TO CRAWL OUT OF MYSELF.
But of course on the outside I just look like the most BASIC BITCH ON THE BLOCK. I have no facial expressin, and I look weird when I smile. I don't get why I have such a stone cold face and the DRIEST personality. BITCH MY personality is drier than CORNSTARCH. I'm so sick of all this. I still feel like a little kid since I do the same SHIT that I did when I was FUCKING SIX YEARS OLD EVERYDAY ANYWAYS. NO CHANGE OF ENVIRONMENT, OR HABITS. JUST SLIGHT KNOWLEDGE. EVERYONE ELSE GETS TO LIVE LIFE AND SEE PEOPLE EVERY. FUCKING. DAY. AND GUESS WHAT??? I COULD! I REALLY FUCKING COULD! HAHAAHAHAHH I COULD IF MY MOM WASN'T SO SELFISH. IF SHE WASN'T SO SELF-ABSORBED THAT SHE'S DOING THE RIGHT THING FOR HER KIDS. I HAVE EXPLAINED TO HER MANY TIMES I WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL AND SHE FUCKING SAYS CO-OP OR SOME DUMB SHIT WHERE PEOPLE ARENT QUALIFIED TO TEACH OR THERES LIKE 5 KIDS. BRO, JUST PUT ME IN FUCKING SCHOOL. SERIOUSLY. THERE IS A HIGH SCHOOL EIGHT MINUTES AWAY FROM ME. JUST EIGHT. ITS ALSO HUGE! LIKE IT'D BE FUCKING PERFECT BUT OF COURSE I HAVE WASTED POTENTIAL BECAUSE MY FUCKING PARENTS DO SHIT LIKE THIS. I ALSO CANT CALL THE SCHOOL OR ANYTHING BECAUSE THEY NEED PARENTAL APPROVAL AND SHIT. I FUCKING HATE THIS SO MUCH.
I feel like there was something seriously, seriously fucked up about my really early childhood years that I just can't remember. When I think of it, I feel really uncomfortable and just a feeling of weirdness.
One thing I do know that my dad and mom tell me that think is funny, is that when I used to be like three or four years old, I'd get on all fours and spread my buttcheeks apart, saying something like "Idea!". It's fucking stupid and I was a little ass kid, but I don't think it's funny at all. Wouldn't parents usually tell their kid to not do that or something and not look? Also, my mom used to still dress me when I was like 6 years old or something. My dad also has a memory of me running naked into a room with my aunts and uncles and him and stuff when I was a toddler, and apprently he says they all laughed when I did. He also commented on how when I ran in there my little pp was clearly visible. That just felt weird to me. I don't get how it's funny, but like I said I just feel disgusting and kinda violated when I think about my years from 0-9 and I don't know why. I'm 14 now, obviously, almost 15. I'm so upset from life. I hate it. I don't know if any of you have anything to say about this but that's basically it. If you read it all, THANK you for ACKNOWLEDGING I EXIST.

My last flat was unbearable.
I mean, you try having a family of 11 live above you, when half of them are under the age of 8. Also try having a pair of raging alcoholic neighbours on either side of you. A pair who were once married to each other. My eyes rivalled that of pigeons’ due to no sleep.
I lasted a total of 21 days. I know, new record huh? I just about shoved the keys back in the grubby hands of my landlord when I finally saw the lunacy inscribed on his face. No wonder the rent was dirt cheap.
So I was back on the road, not on the streets though. Luckily enough I started questioning the flat by day 8, looked around for another place by day 15, and made a decision to get the hell out on day 18. 3 days of packing and it was bye-bye.
My new place seemed all the better too: yes, the rent was more expensive, and yes, it only has 2 bedrooms. But at least it was a house, one where pesky neighbours were at least 5 metres away. On my right, at least. On my left? Their house - thankfully - couldn’t even be seen where I stood.
Parking my car, I skipped up towards my new house with my fresh set of keys. And on entering? Silence. Perfect still silence. Thank the Lord. I basked in it for a while before returning to my car, unloading some of my baggage. It took 3-4 hauls, but I managed to fit it into one of the bedrooms. Thankfully, the rest of my things were to be brought by moving vans in about an hour.
I envisioned what the house could look like with a few finishing touches.
“But first…”
I eyed the 2 rooms. “Mine!”
The room I had chosen to be mine gave a bright view of my own smaller garden, as well as a portion of my right neighbour’s house, but that didn’t matter much. The view in the other room would suck: just my car and some reeds.
I was just about done heaving some of my baggage into my newly-chosen room when the doorbell gave an obnoxious ring. I stood, fighting the urge to just run away into one of my rooms when it beeped again.
Reaching the door, I eyed out of the peephole to see nothing but an opaque whiteness. I guess the downside in this house is that the last tenant was a slob. I eyed some of the yellowing walls. Sighing, I opened the door.
“Hello! We’re your neighbours, Jack and Sally, and we live just there,” She motioned towards my right, “We came to introduce ourselves, and to let you know that if you ever need anything, we’re right here.”
She then shoved a basket full of biscuits at my chest, a motherly-smile stretched around her lips. She turned to leave, husband - clearly forced to follow her - in tow, when she turned around.
“Your name, dear?”
“Leen!” I shouted after her.
“Perfect.”
And perfect it was, I thought. Neighbours that respect their distance from you, and give you food? I eyed the delicious snacks in front of me. Definitely an upgrade.
Though it was at dawn the very next day that I woke up, shook.
~
See, I was just sleeping in my newly delivered bed when I heard it. Something that sounded like a bird, a huge caw, before it alternated into different pitches. Disoriented, I tried to wipe the sleep from my eyes in order to focus better. But it just made me more confused.
It sounded like a chicken.
As far as I know, this new place was not the countryside, nor farmland. So what? And why?
I stepped up to my window to take a good look outside. I wouldn’t keep a rooster in my home that’s for sure. Whatever it was, it was coming from…
My jaw dropped.
I closed my eyes and scrubbed at them harshly.
Please tell me why I opened my eyes and saw the exact same thing.
A man, on his haunches, face pointed towards the sky, was making rooster noises.
And he was on my neighbours’ garden. The ones I met earlier.
He looked absolutely demented. I wasn’t even scared then, just flabbergasted. I wasted no time calling the police at this disturbing nuisance.
When they arrived though, I saw my neighbours’ shoot straight from their house, speaking or…was it pleading? With the officers. What on Earth..?
Anyway, it was their problem now, so I went back to bed. I had a whole bunch of chores the next day, and had to get it all sorted before I returned to work.
Shutting my eyes, I wished for peace. And quiet, thank you very much.
~
At last, I woke up at 10 AM. By 1 PM, I had sorted my clothing into its respective drawers, and had decorated my bedroom walls, including a new golden addition. And now? I had food cooking on the stove. It felt satisfying, having cleaned up and now awaiting the prize of food.
I scrolled on my phone as I waited for the pasta to cook, before another ding turned my attention towards the door.
“Huh, what now?”
Unfortunately I hadn’t cleaned the peephole yet, so I had to open the door. There stood Jack and Sally. Or Sally and Jack. Jack looked lost. Sally stared deep into my eyes.
“Was it you?”
“Me? What do you mean?”
“That called the police last night?”
I recalled the past night, and gave her a thumbs up, hoping my smile was reassuring. “Yep, don’t worry, that lunatic will not be coming back ever again. He can go to the zoo if he wants to squawk.”
I should’ve taken the cue from Jack’s paling face, but Sally grabbed hold of me. “Listen here, okay? That man, the one you called the police on...” She trembled, “He’s my son! You can’t do that! He was not even on your property!”
My eyes widened. “He’s…your son?”
“Of course! How can you not see that?”
Nodding at her, I relinquished myself from the hold she had on my arms. “Okay then, sorry for the call. But I do have to mention something,” Jack started to shake his head behind his wife, but I ignored the little-to-say man, “Is there any way you can keep the noise down to a minimum? Honestly, your son has vocal cords of steel! It would wake the entire neighbourhood at this rate.”
Sally stared pointedly at me, then took a look around my house. “Very well.”
She grabbed her husband’s arm as she turned to leave, and I caught the slightest look of fear in his eyes before he was abruptly pulled away.
I dismissed it - and the sinking feeling - on discovering my very soft, overcooked pasta when I came back into my home though.
I managed to also do one thing before wrapping up: I cleaned out my door's peephole. Now I wouldn't have to open the door to know it's them. I'd just speak at them from the inside if they were to come back.
~
I woke, jolting out of my bed the very next morning, or night. I checked my bedside clock to see it was 3:50 AM. The cock-a-doodle-doo was breaking into my head. I grasped my hair in frustration, knowing that I didn’t have the madman’s parents phone numbers’ to call, or maybe scream at them. It was the exact same thing as the day before! Except…maybe…
I strained my ear.
It sounded a lot closer.
My hands, for some reason, became clammy instantly, and the urgent thumping of my own heart - the fragility of my own life - became all the more prominent.
I tiptoed to my window and peeked outside. Nothing.
I then slowly treaded to my spare bedroom, and pulled the curtains apart. Zilch. Nada. Though…
Almost as if under a spell, my head turned towards my main door. I…I could somehow feel it. Just to confirm though, I peeked out of the door-hole.
And with a slam, I collapsed in my new, dream home.
~
When I came to, I was lying on white sheets, and a bright white light hung over me.
A hospital.
I was in my own room, which I found odd. It was not like I needed it. But then a doctor walked in, followed by 3 other people, and it all made sense. Everything - blurs and sureness - melted into a perfect picture.
Sally, Jack, and their son.
He couldn’t be more than 17 really. Though he looked 37 a few hours ago. Face pressed against the glass of my peephole, mouth wide open towards it, eyes pointing in different directions as his face reddened and contorted.
I was deaf in one moment. Then came the COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO.
Of course I fainted. Who could blame me?
“Good afternoon, I’m Dr Lam. You’re in A&E right now. Are you able to tell me your full name and date of birth?
My voice answered the Doctor’s questions, but my eyes stared dazed at the youngster’s abdomen, not daring to reach his its eyes.
“Well, nothing seems to be wrong with you. You may have just been dehydrated. Did you have any headache or pain before you fainted?”
I replied in the negative.
“Luckily, your friends’ son had found you passed out, and ensured your speedy arrival to hospital, so I wouldn’t be worried about any damage.”
My eyes finally strayed, looking towards the ground. I held the nauseousness of bile down my throat. Following a brief check-up, I was allowed to leave.
And 2 people and a demon followed me out.
“Well, Leen, that should give you a lesson,”
Sally.
I turned towards the family, who stood in a 3 person arc. Only 1 managed to look away, equal parts shame and guilt. I don’t need to mention who that was.
“Don’t worry. You can look at me, I don’t bite: not now and not at dawn,” a strained voice whispered at me. “I promise, it’s only at dawn when I…when I…”
“Hush Dean, don’t work your voice that much. You’ll need to save it for later.”
I was still dizzy. That didn’t stop me from running half-hobbled to the taxi stand, where I begged and claimed to many that I would provide double payment if they were to take me to my house.
It took a while, but I managed to pack some of my clothes. There was no way in hell I was sleeping at that damned house again, not now, not ever. I called and booked at a nearby hotel in the meantime.
I was done packing necessities by the evening. Walking out of my house, I saw no sign of those three. I would have been relieved, had I not come face to face with than one thing: standing in my garden, leaning against my car. My breathing picked up instantly.
Dean
It stood with its back resting against my car. And It noticed me immediately. Seems like it was just waiting for me to notice it.
“Are you leaving?” It sounded almost sad, but I needed it to move away, or my only way out of there would be in jeopardy.
“For the night.” My answer? Almost smooth, but even I could hear the first shake in my voice.
It nodded though. “Okay.” And he moved from my car. I counted the distance. 1 metre. 2. 2.5-
It made a sudden dash at me as I - in flight response - ran frantically to the driver’s seat, locking the door. I came in half-squashed, my backpack still on my back. But I didn’t care.
Its face was pressed against the window.
“Mum is waiting for a person that will like me for me, not run away. You’re supposed to like me.” It said, matter-of-factly. It then wailed, and sunk beneath the car window.
I did not dare to sit up and see what it was doing.
I didn’t even need to though. The sound came a split-second later.
COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO
Tears spilled from my eyes. My limbs felt weak. I couldn’t even breathe. It suddenly sprang up to the window. Eyes enlarged: looking at me and everywhere at once.
“I can actually tur-COCK- in the day too, but M-DOODLE- said it would be too much for you,” wheezing, it exclaimed again before adding, “but this is ME. Do you-do you, do you like me?”
With dead limbs I weighed my foot on the pedal, and jump-started the car to speed off. My head shook left-and-right in response, stomach heaving with nausea.
Human preservation kicked me into taking proper control of the car when I saw, out of the rear view mirror, Sally. This time with a rope, which locked around the creature’s neck before she tugged, drawing it into her house. At one point we locked eyes. And what do I mean by we?
Answer: the 2 of them and me.
It was honestly a miracle that I did not get into a road traffic accident.
I spent 3 days living in the hotel after that, my job long-forgotten in the aftermath.
By day 4 I broke down and called my older sister, asking to stay at her place for a while. Her house and area seemed fine the times I’d stopped over. I guess I clearly did not seem right though, as she many-a-time asked me what was wrong. My answer? Stress. She persisted, years of living together as kids helping her figure out my lies, though she ultimately gave up after a week. She knew it was something I didn’t want to share, and that I was safe now. That was enough for her.
For me? I guess at the time I so badly wanted to tell someone. Though it couldn’t be my sister. I didn’t want to cause any trouble. Nor see if she’d even believe me, or instead rank me at the same IQ level as her two 5-year-olds.
For a few weeks, I stayed with my sister and her family, reassuring both her and myself that I was fine. Thankfully, we worked together to find a small apartment. Next to a kids school too - bonus points. I now craved safety above all else. After moving out though, I realised I needed my belongings back.
So, who picked up my stuff from that cursed residence, you ask? The moving people. I called the police from a random phone booth first to head over to that area, emphasising on seeing some suspicious looking men, whilst I got them to collect everything. I did not dare to call the police on that family though. I would prefer if the link between me and them got cut, drawn and quartered.
So now I’m here, in an apartment which thankfully hasn’t shown any sign of insanity. Inspecting my belongings, I noticed that there was one thing missing.
My gold frame, used to encase my make-shift certificate - made by yours truly after her 21-day record from the previous apartment - was gone.
I felt somewhat miffed, but then I realised something.
Something which can maybe bring the light out in this whole situation.
I counted carefully. I broke my record.
With a grand stay of 2 days. Now that - that I don’t think I’d ever be able to beat.

For background context, I’m 33, gayer than christmas, and a nervous wreck.
Since 2019, I’ve experienced the death of (In order) my Step Dad, Grandmother, Sister, Mom, older Brother, and Step Mom. After my Grandmother passed, a sizable Family Trust was set up for me and my Dad. After my Mom passed, the state gave me custody of my little brother, so I used some of that money for a down payment for a nice house in a nice area— I wanted to get something stable and safe-feeling for my brother after such a tumultuous early childhood.
My husband has always tried to be supportive, or so I thought. I keep looking back though, and all I can remember are the times he’d give me shit for going to visit my grandmothemom when they were fighting their cancer battles. At one point, he even tried convincing me that my Mom was faking her illness, I think because he just didn’t like the area she lived in— a fairly ‘rough’ trailer park. He’s never had a job. I’ve tried here and there, but my depression always sucks me back underwater, and the Trust has effectively cut me off which lead to a wonderful case of ch 13 bankruptcy.
A year ago, I worked up the courage to try and file for divorce. Talked to an attorney, paid the retainer…. And then his dad (a family attorney himself) started listing all the ways he could have my little brother removed. I caved. I can’t lose my brother. I told myself that I was the problem somehow, and dropped the whole thing.
This past Tuesday, I woke up in crippling abdominal pain. Told the husband, who said he needed a shower. I waited ten minutes before I just grabbed my keys and left with a quick text on the way to urgentcare. I stumble into the waiting room and promptly pass out, night-night style. I guess they werent equipped to deal with that kind of thing because I then woke up in an ambulance (with the HOTTEST ems, I stg) being taken to a hospital. My phone is dead. Car is left at urgentcare. No idea where tf I’m being taken. Get rushed into a room and then get left for 30 minutes alone, bawling my eyes out with the thought that the cancer that took half my family has finally come for me. A nurse is kind enough to lend me her charger. My phone turns on… no calls or texts. Nothing. I call the husband who is asleep, irritated that I left without him, and that I woke him up. I don’t fight, I just tell him whats happening and where I am. A few agonizing hours later, I hobble out waiting for him. The last of my phone juice goes to the location I send him, and then I wait. And wait. And wait for two more hours (The hospital is 15 miles from our house).
I am a broken human being. Each death of my family chipped a little away, and on top of having to financially support myself, my teenage brother (who is a BLACK HOLE OF FOOD), and my… I gotta say it, my deadbeat husband… Underneath all of that, its hard to find the energy for.. anything, really. I just want to be happy again. I just want to feel like I have the freedom to heal. But I dont know where to find the strength to start. Therapy only goes so far, and meds only do so much. It takes action on my part, but I have no action left in me. I’m so tired. I miss my family.

I thought I’d add a trip report for Universal Studios Japan as I found some of this detail was hard to find online (e.g. the opening time!) My husband and kids (aged 8 and 11) visited USJ on a weekday in mid April.
Tickets: All purchased through Klook without any problems. Printed at home to save the hassle of flicking through four passes on my phone every time. We bought the 7 Express Pass which was worth every cent. We also bought the Early Entry studio pass, designed to let us in 15 minutes early. That wasn’t entirely accurate, see paragraph below!
Entry times: We had read online that the park opens an hour before the posted time. Not today! The posted time was 9am, and we turned up at 8:15. The park opened at around 8:40. At this time, the regular lines and the Early Entry lines opened all at once. But it was still definitely worth buying the Early Entry pass, because the lines were much, MUCH shorter. If you’re using an Early Entry pass, just show the attendants when you turn up and they’ll direct you to the Early Entry lines.
Super Nintendo World: We had already reserved an entry time for Super Nintendo World at 10:50 through our express passes, but we didn’t want to wait. We checked the app as we walked in at 8:50, and we could get an entry time to SNW at 9:10. We went straight there, lined up, and they let us in 15 minutes early! We found the same for all of our express passes too: They would allow us in at least 10 minutes earlier. Perhaps it’s because it wasn’t a particularly crowded day (still crowded, but not a weekend or holiday). In brief, SNW is everything you’ve seen online, but so spectacular in person.
SNW power up bands: We bought these at the first kiosk, but should’ve followed the advice online and walked further into the area. There were power up band kiosks with no queues inside. We didn’t really get much value for money out of these: the kids had fun hitting the blocks and coins and interacting with them a little on the rides, but they couldn’t be bothered to wait in the long queues for the more elaborate games. There’s a big challenge which requires playing several games to collect keys to enter a boss level. It probably would have taken an extra hour or two, but we were ready to go on more rides.
Jaws: We went on this next, but there was no need for a fast pass as the queue was very short. It was entertaining enough despite being in Japanese. We would have preferred to ride the Hollywood roller coaster; our 7 express pass had that as an alternative to Jaws, but unfortunately it’s currently closed.
Minions Mayhem: This was the best 3D movie ride I had ever been on (until we went on Soaring at DisneySea!). Both are excellent. The intro videos have English subtitles; the main 3D movie ride didn’t, but there wasn’t much dialogue. Very fun, enjoyed by all. Walked past the other Minions ride, Freeze Ray Sliders, but looked like a version of spinning teacups, not worth the ever-lengthening queue times.
Mario Kart: Koopa’s Challenge: Probably our favourite ride for the day. It’s a combination ride / 3D movie / interactive experience with virtual goggles – worth every bit for the express pass, and worth the queue if you don’t have an express pass!
Yoshi’s Adventure: Very much a young kids’ ride and can be skipped! Even our kids looked bored. There are good views, but not much that you can’t see elsewhere. (As an aside, the two best views of the not-yet-opened Donkey Kong Country were found at the peak of the Flight of the Hippogriff rollercoaster, and on the Tempozan Ferris Wheel which we visited the day before.)
Flying Dinosaur: Our 11-year-old doesn’t like extreme roller coasters, but our 8-year-old was unsure as she has liked some bigger roller coasters before. We decided that my husband and I would ride it while the kids watched (and took videos, hilarious) and we could tell her afterwards if it was too scary. DEFINITELY too scary, haha. I love roller coasters, and I closed my eyes in parts. I’m so glad I did it, but it’s not for the faint-of-heart.
Jurassic Park meet and greet: We happened to walk past as the dinosaurs were coming out. Cute for the kids, but not worth structuring your day around. I wish the Jurassic Park log flume ride was open, but it’s currently still closed.
Waterworld: We queued for this 20 minutes before show time, but we needn’t have bothered, as the seating area was huge. They were still letting people in as the performance began, and none were having trouble finding seats. We could have chosen the front row, but we sat slightly behind the ‘splash zone’ so we wouldn’t get wet. Sitting higher up afforded a better view too, but views would have been good from anywhere. The plot was simple enough to follow without understanding Japanese – fun and good for a long rest for our already tired feet!
Hogsmeade: Utterly stunning, all of it: The shops, the food, the performances (singing frogs and magical beasts turned up regularly). We ate at the Three Broomsticks, which appeared crowded with a long queue, but with an app to order, it cleared quickly enough. There were plenty of empty tables out the back, with a view across the lake to Hogwarts! My kids had wanted to try butterbeer for so long, but it was sickly sweet, like bubbly maple syrup. It was quite difficult to find a place to dispose of the rest of the drink so we could take the souvenir cups home, but eventually we just dumped the contents in the bathroom sink.
Interactive wands: These were much better value for our kids, and they took part in five of the seven interactive spells before exhaustion hit at the end of the day. The first (wingardium leviosa!) was not being managed by staff, so it was hard to get it to work. It had about a 50% success rate. The later ones were all managed by very kind and patient staff (who also happened to speak excellent English) who allowed each guest to keep trying until it worked. It meant the queues were slow-moving, but most were short enough, and my kids were happy to wait while they watched others attempting the spells.
Harry Potter and the Forbidden Journey: We were so excited for this one, but it scared both my kids a bit! The 8-year-old because of the giant dementors (both on-screen and big animatronics), and the 11-year-old because the chair actually tipped a really long way back and forward. She was worried we would go right upside-down, but we didn’t. It was a lot more intense than we had expected. I really loved it, but be careful if you have sensitive kids.
Flight of the Hippogriff: This is a pretty tame roller coaster, and I’m not sure why people would queue two hours for it. The kids loved it, though. One warning: my six foot tall husband had to be moved to the front row as his legs didn’t fit!
Minions Mayhem again: We noticed on the app that there was only a 10 minute queue for Minions Mayhem, so my husband and 8-year-old had another go. A 10 minute queue means no queue at all, as it takes 10 minutes to walk through and watch the intro videos. We checked the app, and all the more popular rides still had huge queues, so decided to call it a day.
All up, we were there from opening to 6pm, and were utterly exhausted by the end of it. Plan a quieter day for afterwards, if you can! And we were very jealous of the people staying in the hotel right by the park – in hindsight it would have been worth the extra packing and unpacking to shift to that hotel for the night before and/or after.

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.

Hello everyone, As a title say my new employer refuses to pay not just me but also 5 different workers who already "run away" from here, one by one every few weeks, because they haven't been paid. It's always the same pattern, the M. (Employer) Is always deleying signing a contract as much as possible with some weird "legal" bullshir arguments. Me and my girlfriend are pushing him about signing a contract for the last 3 weeks at least 3/4 times a week.
What happened already: -We already signed a document for a tax discount with all the details and pictures taken
-We have received one payslip with all the information of his company ours etc. but the amount was barley 50% of what he was supposed to pay us. (The same pattern appeared with all other employees who got paid for about 40-50% of hours they made, black and the best part, they got netto salary evenetho they paid them black without contract - explaining they need to pay taxes)
-We have an example of a contract, but completely wrong, with different pay that we agreed on and a duration for half a year except one month... Of course we did it sign it but yes, we are still waiting for the contract but I'm slowly losing hope
I'm conclusion I'm seeking any advice from people who might have been in similar situation. What can I do to secure myself and my girlfriend in terms of getting paid. M. just doesn't seem to be aware that it's illegal, wrong and just not fair to have people work for him and then not paying them. He literally speaks about it as all of there workers (whom I met and talked to) are trying to rip him off...
It's just sad and I'm a bit hopeless. I don't want to leave after working here almost a month with just getting paid for just one week out of four I've been here. Today I'm going to talk with him again and tell him that if he doesn't bring a contract for the next working day, sorry but we won't work for him anymore.
Don't get me wrong we're planning on leaving as soon as possible (probably next week) yet I want to leave knowing that we won't be fucked by him. That all. Thank you for reading this post mixed with a bit ot venting about the whole situation.
Any suggestions/advices would be appreciated🙏 Good day to everyone

https://www.belfasttelegraph.co.uk/sunday-life/news/too-little-too-late-nurse-not-allowed-in-roselawn-with-her-mums-coffin-rejects-michelle-oneills-apology-over-bobby-storey-funeral/a1027476041.html
A Lisburn nurse left standing at the gate as her mother’s coffin was taken into Roselawn Cemetery on the same day as Bobby Storey‘s funeral has said Michelle O’Neill’s apology “means nothing” to her.
Lynn Paul was speaking after the first minister followed other Sinn Fein ministers in saying sorry for attending the funeral of the former senior IRA man during the height of lockdown, when other families were prevented from saying a final goodbye to their relatives.
The hearse carrying her 78-year-old mother Evelyn McMullen made its way in through the gates of Roselawn at noon on June 30, 2020.
Evelyn McMullen passed away aged 78
An undertaker had told Ms Paul she would not be allowed to enter the grounds of the council-run crematorium because of Covid regulations.
Yet just before 4pm, a number of mourners gathered inside Roselawn for the cremation of Storey.
Before that, thousands had walked behind his coffin and lined the streets of west Belfast, including several Sinn Fein ministers.
Among them was Ms O’Neill, who apologised for her attendance at the funeral in front of the Covid Inquiry on Tuesday.
She said she was sorry “from the bottom of her heart” for the hurt her attendance caused to the families of people who had died from the virus, adding she ought to have realised the anger going to the funeral would have caused.
Ms Paul and her family have spent nearly four years coming to terms with what happened at her mother’s funeral.
She joined her husband Leonard and children Robert, Neil and Jonathan in the car behind the hearse carrying her mother’s body for the journey to Belfast.
“I wanted to follow her. I didn’t want to let her go,” Ms Paul said.
“We got to the crematorium and two fellas opened the gate to let the hearse in, then closed the gates and we couldn’t go in.”
Michelle O'Neill at the Covid Inquiry
She has already received an apology from Belfast City Council over how her mother’s funeral was handled, but that does not change the feelings of hurt she will always carry with her.
“Michelle O’Neill had a duty as a minister to lead by example and didn’t. In fact, she did the complete opposite,” said Ms Paul.
She also noted that the first minister had previously said she would never apologise for going to the funeral of a friend.
“I have never forgotten those words,” Ms Paul said.
“Michelle O’Neill is an educated woman who well knew that attending the funeral of Bobby Storey would cause outrage and hurt.
“She stated at the Covid Inquiry that she attended a funeral and walked in a cortege of 30 while abiding by social distancing rules, but footage exists of her shaking hands and sharing photos with various members of the public in not one but two cemeteries that she attended.
“(This happened) at the height of a worldwide pandemic that had us social distancing and unable to visit our families, one which saw thousands of families lose loved ones.”
Bobby Storey
Michelle O’Neill’s apology won’t be welcomed by all Devastating examination of Michelle O’Neill leaves her flapping – and shows her evidence was misleading Bobby Storey funeral ‘wrong’ and strengthened case of those wanting to break rules, says ex-PSNI chief
A week after the funeral, Belfast City Council indicated 30 people had attended Storey’s cremation, although others have put the figure higher, and republican stewards replaced some council staff.
“I worked on the front line as a nurse, doing the most difficult job while caring for my mother, who had cancer and was confined to her home for over three months before she passed away, with only myself and my brother with her,” Ms Paul said.
“She couldn’t see her grandchildren nor enjoy her last few months of life with family.
“When she died, we couldn’t bring her home to be mourned. We were told we couldn’t have a proper cremation, that her coffin couldn’t be carried to show respect for a woman who raised us to be decent people, and finally, to leave her at the gates of a council cemetery to make her final journey alone.
“(This was) a cemetery which accommodated a service attended by many well-known people not three hours later. Honestly, it all stinks to high hell.
“Michelle O’Neill’s hypocritical sorry means nothing to myself nor my family. She set the rules and then she bent the rules. I have no respect for her and it’s all too little, too late.
“I don’t accept (her apology) and I will never believe it. All it has done is opened old wounds and brought back terribly sad memories. It’s hard to deal with and it always will be.”

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.

Re: PODCAST: How to Spot a Lazy Manager
I'm telling ya, other than trying to rip off as many people as possible and get as much work out of them, and do the least amount of effort themselves, I don't know why Hagwonites bother. And I don't know why foreigners care more than the people who own the place and/or will be working there 10 years from now.
It reminds me of George Costanza's frustration with his lazy boss Mr. Kruger. You can see the YouTube clip here. Bust your rear-end for what? So it can backslide back to square 1 as soon as you leave and the new person replaces you? You're not helping the place advance, you are helping it idle in neutral.
See if this sounds like your experience at a Hagwon.
1. They blame low performance and turnover on employees.
--And every other mistake as well. The students are total brats? That's your fault. You don't teach the lesson absolutely perfectly without training? That's your fault. Kids are bored? That's your fault. A child pokes another child and mom calls about it, again --your fault.
None of these managers actually manage. They give irrelevant or no training. They institute no discipline plan all the staff, students, parents will agree on. They often don't give enough material to teach the class, ALL OF THAT falls on the hands of the foreigners. Imagine that, a place that's been open for 5-10 years still hasn't taken point on all these issues, just push them off on the foreigner and go back to gossiping about how terrible the foreigners are.

• Great minds discuss ideas.
• Average minds discuss events.
• Small minds discuss people.

BTW, I'm not an owner of a company, I can discuss people who should be discussing ideas.
2: They look for quick fixes to complex retention problems.
--That's more than true. I declined to accept a 2nd contract by being offered slightly more money, about double the vacation time, and move up to head teacher. Why didn't I accept this promotion? Because everything I said the entire year was totally ignored, the pay wasn't enough to put up with their stupidity. The vacation was totally bogus because we had to threaten a mutiny just to get 2 extra days due to a break between semesters. Why would I trust them to give me more when they didn't honor the ones in the 1st contract? Search Bar: Mutiny. Also, they harassed the head teacher out of a job, why would I then stick my head in the guillotine after they dragged the body away by the ankles?

But wait there's more!

That's the end of that link, but you and I can identify so many more issues.
3. Physically / Intellectually a bad example for everyone.
I don't know about you, but I don't respect slough-offs and idiots. The person that SHOULD Be working the hardest is the person who owns the place. Did you ever see the video of Elan Musk sleeping on his sofa in his office at the production plant? Yeah, really. The billionaire owner is there to field problems as they come up instead of being called at home and have to drive in at 2am. He suffers more and works harder than anyone there.
Some dumb-butt that owns a hagwon said on here one time,

I don't make my employees do anything that I wouldn't do!

You are supposed to do what your employees do and 10x more than that! You're the owner. This is your livelihood, it will destroy your life if it faulters. You have to pay off employees with severance, pay back loans you probably can't pay off, reduce your living space, sell off assets to survive. You put all your eggs in this basket, it HAS to work, why are you putting the outcome in the hands of people who have no skin in the game?
I don't respect boneheads who should have their educational chops figured out by this point. They should have taken notes and improved themselves as each semester rolls on by. Why are the same problems recurring every semester or every year such as the Halloween or Christmas event, you did the same thing a year ago!
4. Doesn't know your job description.
Not only does a lazy boss not educate themselves about what education is, they have neither bothered to know what teachers actually do. Sure, they scowl through the window or monitor on CCTV, but do they know what they are looking at? Almost certainly not. They tend to focus on the most inane "violations" to give themselves and everyone else the false impression they are REALLY on the ball here, nothing slips past their scrutinous eye on quality and detail! When in fact, they reveal themselves to not only being an obnoxious pest, but clearly don't even know what teachers do every day. I've had to tell more than a few in-class and CCTV observers that the things they are bothering with are so miniscule I question whether they have even taught anyone anything before in their entire lives? It's like me storming in on a mechanic, "I gotcha! I see you didn't grease those fittings!" Then they tell me that is done AFTER the breaks and wheel has been fixed and reassembled. I just exposed myself as not knowing what I'm talking about.
Hagwon management and owners don't realize how much time it takes to do the tasks they are demanding because they've never had to do them before. Sure, waive your hand and expect this or that, but a) they don't know how to do it themselves. b) we are not holding out on them with a Mary Poppins bag of lesson plans. We don't have a quick fix for their ideas. c) it takes research, editing, time, contemplation to add something that perfectly match a class's level. Management and owners think it only takes about 30 minutes to throw something together, when in fact it could be 2 hours. For laughs, ask them exactly step-by-step how the task should be carried out and receive the stupidest answers you can imagine. "Uh, I don't know, some teacher website or something? Why are you asking me? I've only been working here for 10 years, why don't you with your philosophy degree, and 3 months on the job, know how to construct exactly what I want?"
5. Boss is too lazy/stubborn to solve problems.
"I'm the boss. I say, you do. That's the end of it, now get to work, no back-talk!"
If you work in any place like this, the boss is trying to avoid being exposed as a fool. They know if they throw out instructions and ideas, they will get shot down as not knowing round holes don't accept square pegs. To avoid a face-losing situation, they avoid communication at all costs. If every idea is idiotic and everyone knows it, they lose stature and the decree will be considered untenable. If the boss demands something runs and hides under their desk, the chances that the smarter people will get together and somehow make it happen is much more likely. Really, poor or no communication can be interpreted as, "Just make what I'm demanding from you happen, and don't ask me, I have no idea how to do it or I'd be helping you do it."
6. No goals.
--Every day is Groundhog's Day with lazy people. Nothing ever improves. The latest freak-out due to procrastination, poor communication, poor judgement, lack of materials, poor training is just a temporary peak until it is resolved, a lull in the action happens, then another peak or freak-out occurs in a frequency that drives everyone crazy. You just had a blow up last semester about a certain issue, it seems to have gotten through to everyone, but yet here we are again the next semester facing the same SNAFU we thought we already settled. Nope. Lazy people get lazy, let things backslide, then get caught with their pants down time after time. It's like a captain of a ship that sleeps at the wheel until he has to wake up and right the ship before it capsizes. There are no goals for improvement, only maintain just enough to do as little as possible to maximize more time for laziness.
7. No boundaries.
--"Eh, they can do it at home if they don't get it done during the day." The boss is too lazy to prioritize proper workloads. If work exceeds the scope of your position, there is no time set aside during the normal work hours, then your boss has not taken the time to contemplate what your job is, what you agreed to do in your contract, has not taken steps to cut the fat and keep the lean meat. They over-sold expectations to parents, undersold expectations to foreigners. They have no idea how long it takes to finish tasks, nor even if the task really needs to be done in the first place. More is always better according to Hagwonites, even if it's useless/pointless busywork.
8. They don't ever seem to know anything.
Your paycheck is wrong, they didn't issue a pay ledger, they have no idea you're supposed to have a break during the day, don't know the law, don't know when your vacation days are, don't know they need supplies for the things they are asking you to do, don't know what's going on 5 minutes before it happens. They make excuses and delays to figure out how to make it up as they go along. Then when they can't, they make up lies and you have to spend energy debunking the lies. It never ends, they simply have no idea about anything other than, "Foreigner work, we get money" that's about the extent of their master plan.
If you are in a personal or professional relationship and the only response after you try to resolve conflicts is anger and annoyance? Buddy, you need to fold up shop and get the heck out of that one while the gettin's good. They are trying to teach you that if you don't have rainbows and sunshine blaring straight out your arse every day and make them slightly uncomfortable, they'll punish you with negative emotions. No good man, ain't gonna work, ain't never gonna work, never gonna improve.