Anonymous Venting for Mental Health and Emotional Support

This morning, I had a weird feeling I can't really explain.

It started as how any usual day starts for me: excruciating mental pain. For the first half of the day, I thought I was done for, just like always. I remembered how much I was harassed and how ugly it got, and I thought I was gonna get found by the person who ultimately ruined my entire life in just one day. I'm pretty sure I said parts of what I can actually say in previous posts, but long story short I was completely done with my goals. I gave up, giving AI little of what was left of my creativity just to see if I can get that old spark back (which is a mistake, but I had zero resource and I was in a block).

Today, however, I felt something different after the second half of the day. I was scrolling through channels trying to crunch down another boring samey Sunday, until I landed on a movie about experiencing the joys of life. It ignited something on me; I looked around my living room, no shortage of something I'm good at: collecting Nintendo controllers specifically. In my living room alone, I found a cyan Wii Remote, a golden Classic Controller Pro, and my NSO 2 GameCube Controller. I looked at my trampoline and at all the free space in my house, and I thought about how much I love to run and exercise freely. I thought about my tastes in food and realized how unique they were--I might hate white condiments, but I love well-prepared anchovy pizza and pineapple pizza, I love drinking frozen matcha and eating loaded potato soup. I sat for a little longer and all of a sudden, I saw a vision of a character sitting beside me like if they were alive. Suddenly, I felt like I really wanted to go to the mall and let myself loose--find out what kinds of stores it had, how many stories, what where the anchors, what was at the food court, playing at a Dave & Busters, just overall letting myself loose and seeing the very appealing design that was the inside of a mall. This interest wasn't just an obligation to keep me stimulated; it was an actual call to return to my old self. I saw the similarities between my favorite (drawing) artists, and I stopped feeling anxious, even if some of these still make me go WTF. I acknowledged that despite their damning similarities, they each bring something new to the table and keeping me to innovate and do the same: follow the same footsteps but bring something new to the table. I even felt like coming up with a plan to start over with my art, presumably just in time for next year's ArtFight.

There's one problem though. I've had similar breakthroughs before, and I don't know how to keep the newfound spark. I'm enrolled in some coding classes that really frustrated me and completely broke on me and I'm pretty sure I failed the assignment because it's past the deadline and the whole program was straight up broken in the professor's end. It got me super mad, and it even blocked my creativity. My spark can easily just disappear.

So I have a question: what would you guys do to keep the spark alive? I do indeed have a plan to redefine what my creativity truly means, but what if more frustrating coding assignments ruin everything for this spark and leave me right where I got started once again?

I'm a 31-year-old male and lately I've been wondering something that sounds almost counterintuitive… is it actually possible to exercise too much? I know it sounds odd—especially in a world where people are generally advised to move more, not less—but I'm starting to feel like my daily regimen is doing more harm than good. My schedule is rigid: weightlifting five days a week, high-intensity interval training three times, and long runs on the weekends. It sounds healthy, maybe even admirable to some, but my body doesn’t feel proud. It feels wrecked. My sleep is erratic, my resting heart rate is elevated, and sometimes, I wake up more tired than when I went to bed. I follow strict macro tracking and ensure hydration and supplementation are on point, yet recovery seems perpetually just out of reach. Isn't that a red flag???

There’s this constant soreness, not the good kind—the kind that doesn’t scream progress but whispers that something might be off. I’ve read and heard about “overtraining syndrome,” a state of chronic fatigue, declining performance, and increased risk of injury. I’m not saying I’ve hit that wall completely, but I do see the signs. My strength gains have plateaued, and in some cases, regressed. My joints ache. My motivation? Fading. There’s no joy anymore in pushing through sets; just obligation. It’s become less about well-being and more about control—about not missing a session out of fear I’ll lose progress. That doesn’t sound like health to me, yet I keep doing it because stopping feels worse. And the question keeps bouncing around in my head like an echo: how much is too much???

Socially, I’m becoming isolated. My friends stopped inviting me to things because they already know the answer: “I have training.” It’s almost embarrassing, the way I’ve structured my life around a routine that’s supposed to make me feel better, stronger, more resilient—but instead, it’s starting to feel like a form of self-imposed imprisonment. And I still can’t tell if I’m doing the right thing! Every time I consider taking a rest week, anxiety hits. What if I lose strength? What if I fall behind? What if I just become… average? I know that sounds dramatic, but when you invest so much time and energy into one goal, the thought of stepping away, even briefly, feels like failure. Still, I ask myself—am I really getting healthier, or am I chasing a standard that doesn’t even exist???

I’ve tried to talk to a few people about this but it’s hard to articulate without sounding weak or obsessive. Fitness is praised in every corner of life now. People admire discipline and grind and consistency. But what happens when those same things become destructive? Can you tell the difference? I can’t anymore. My life looks optimal on the outside, but it’s brittle on the inside. And maybe that’s what worries me most. I used to feel pride in what I was building. Now I feel trapped by it. Have you ever felt that way—like your own habits have turned on you? Like something you loved has started to betray you? I’m not looking for pity, just maybe a perspective. A reality check. Something to help me understand if I’m just burned out or if I’m genuinely hurting myself long-term; because I really can’t tell anymore.

Until you have seen me touch me hear me speak to you in person all your fcking questions and doubts will just be forever doubts. Stop making up stories and move on with your fcking life. I don't wanna be involved with someone who doesn't trust my whole existence.fckijg ass.

Bella’s mom fell sick almost point of death Buh Bella was the only one home with her mom then she called her dad and elder ones

Bella wanted to cry Buh prayed instead and believed her mom would be fine

Bella’s mom was admitted ,Bella’s eldest sister stay with the mom while Bella did all the work at home( the cooking,washing if their clothes from the hospital etc) they would wake Bella by 5am to do things which she would do even after having sleepless night while dealing with relationship issues

Buh after all they still did not appreciate her hard work

Fast forward to wen Bella’s mom came back home

Bella would take care of her

Cook for her do all the works Buh still her mom said she did nothing even wen she don’t have money she used her last money to get her sist and mom food de did not even appreciate that

Her sist even called her witch that she wants to kill their mom

Nd wen Bella fell sick her sist said she doesn’t give a fuck Buh the mom said she show respect to her sist cux she is the eldest

Now Bella is in pain cuz she feels unheard by her family and boyfriend

She feels unloved by them

She wants to end her life

What should she do???

Being 27 and having always admired my older brother, who has built a remarkable career, it’s hard to see him struggle to find motivation at work. He's always been the overachiever, the one with the Midas touch in the corporate world. But lately, he seems to have hit a plateau, and it's tearing him apart. He used to love his work, thrived on the challenges that came with being a senior VP at a major tech firm, and could always see the "bigger picture." But now, it’s almost as if he’s lost his "vision board." I'm genuinely at a loss trying to figure out how to motivate him, and I find myself questioning, have I ever been truly motivational myself? 🤔

I've always believed motivation is like that surge of adrenaline that propels you forward. However, it seems my brother has overdosed on it in the past, and now his reserves are empty. Should I remind him of the countless TED Talks we've watched, where experts such as Simon Sinek emphasize the importance of "starting with why"? Would that work, or is it too clichéd? I can't help but wonder what his "why" might be right now. Sharing personal stories can occasionally spark motivation, but whenever I start reminiscing about the days he would narrate how he closed million-dollar deals, he cringes. The memory probably feels like a distant dream. It makes me ponder, can we still ignite the same fire with mere recollections?

"Communication is key" is a phrase that rings in my head, akin to a mantra. But every time I attempt to broach this sensitive subject, he shrugs it off with a dismissive wave and changes the topic to movies or politics. It's puzzling because this isn't the brother I grew up looking up to; he wasn’t one to shy away from hard conversations. I once read in an article by Harvard Business Review that a supportive environment and professional coach could restore dwindling motivation, but suggesting that feels like walking on eggshells. How do you recommend such resources without making it seem like you’re overstepping? Do I suggest books instead? 📚

Perhaps the work-life balance equation needs reevaluating. My brother's career has been marked by unwavering dedication, sometimes at the cost of personal time. I recall instances where family get-togethers were subtly interrupted by work calls, and he pulled away into another room under the guise of "just one email." Reflecting on this makes me question, could this lack of personal downtime have compounded into a formidable barrier against motivation? Recent trends in workplace culture advocate for "mental health" days, and maybe I should encourage him to explore that avenue. But does one just "push pause" on responsibilities without feeling a sense of guilt or abandonment?

In facing such challenges, asking for advice seems natural, yet solutions aren't always clear-cut. Everyone has moments when motivation evaporates like a benign cloud on a breezy day; it’s just my brother hasn't experienced this before. I’ve read countless anecdotes of people who found their zest by exploring new hobbies or volunteering. Perhaps motivating others starts with oneself; sometimes, it’s all about nurturing an intrinsic motivation that circumvents external validation. As I endeavor to support him, I can't help but introspect — am I helping him unveil a hidden facet of his potential, or merely trying to reignite a spark that should burn of its own accord? So, dear reader, any thoughts on how you might navigate this delicate terrain of motivating someone who once knew no limits???

For the longest time, I’ve been stuck in this cycle of excuses. I’d wake up every morning telling myself I’d make changes, that today would be different, but by the time the day ended, I was back to square one. Whether it’s eating healthier, exercising, or even just cleaning my space, I keep putting it off. I’d tell myself, "I’ll start tomorrow," but tomorrow never seems to come.

Yesterday was my breaking point. I was scrolling through social media and saw an old friend post about running their first marathon. I remember how we used to run together, how much I loved it back then. And now? I can’t even jog up the stairs without feeling winded. It hit me like a ton of bricks—what am I even doing with my life? Why do I keep finding reasons to avoid what I know I need to do?

I looked around my apartment after that. Clothes piled up on the floor, dishes in the sink from who-knows-how-many days ago, and a gym membership card collecting dust on the counter. That’s when it finally clicked—it’s time to stop. It’s time to stop avoiding the hard stuff, time to stop pretending everything will fix itself, and time to stop being my own worst enemy.

I don’t have a perfect plan yet, and honestly, I’m scared I’ll slip back into my old habits. But I know I can’t keep going like this. If I don’t make a change now, when will I? Maybe writing this out will help me stay accountable. I don’t know who needs to hear this, but if you’re feeling stuck too, maybe it’s time to stop and take the first step. We’ve got this.

Hey everyone, I’m not usually one to air my personal stuff, but I really need some advice here. For the past few months, I’ve had this gut feeling that my wife might be cheating on me, and it's eating me alive. I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but the signs are starting to pile up, and I’m just not sure what to do.

It all started when she began staying late at work more often. At first, I didn’t think much of it—she’s always been dedicated to her job. But then, she became super protective of her phone. She used to leave it lying around, but now she keeps it close and seems to be on it all the time, even at odd hours. And when I casually ask about her day, her answers feel...vague? Like she’s hiding something.

Then there are the little things. She started dressing up more than usual, even just to “run errands” or meet friends. It’s almost like she’s trying to impress someone. I’ve tried to brush it off, telling myself I’m being paranoid, but every time I bring it up, she gets defensive or says I’m just being insecure. It makes me feel like maybe I’m overthinking, but part of me feels like my concerns are valid.

To make things worse, I found a receipt for a fancy dinner that she said was a "work thing," but I know her company usually doesn’t do dinners like that. I keep second-guessing myself, and now I’m stuck in this loop of anxiety. I don’t want to accuse her without solid proof, but I also can’t keep living in this uncertainty.

So here I am, asking for advice. Has anyone else been through this? How do you confront someone you love without it turning into a huge fight? Should I even bring it up again, or am I just being paranoid? Any advice would be appreciated—I feel like I’m losing my mind here.

I've come to the harsh realization that perhaps, I'm not the nicest person around. In my mid-thirties, I find myself surrounded only by a single friend and a girlfriend, yet I can't shake the feeling that I'm somehow superior to others. My lifestyle is quite reclusive; I shy away from any social gatherings related to work, and most of my routine revolves around my job, hitting the gym, smoking weed, and cycling. Traveling and cycling in the forest are my escapes, the rare times I don't feel swamped by depression.

Interacting with people, especially in groups, is a daunting task for me. The fear of turning red-faced and being judged negatively is always lurking. Thus, I avoid such situations altogether. There's a worrisome intensity in the way I live; I indulge too often in alcohol or getting high, viewing people merely as elements that enhance my own existence. My eyes wander too freely, admiring every attractive woman I come across, often blatantly flirting in the presence of my girlfriend. Even though these thoughts are never vocalized, I often catch myself belittling others or feeling utter disdain towards them internally.

I confess to being a staunch atheist, holding a disdainful view towards those who are spiritually inclined, believing myself to be smarter, better-looking, and stronger. The resentment builds whenever I see someone possessing what I desire, although I manage to keep this anger bottled up within.

Dominating these emotions is a profound sense of isolation, mixed oddly with a perverse comfort in wallowing in my misery. Sometimes, hurting my own feelings seems like a twisted form of pleasure, perhaps because it means feeling something at all.

My family background does little to lighten my outlook. My brother lives with the dark shadow of being a murderer and a former heroin addict. My father was a violent man, devoid of emotions, who ultimately took his own life. My mother, afflicted by illness so severe that she has been bedridden since my childhood, sparks a guilt within me for not taking care of her. However, I've chosen a path of self-preservation as dedicating myself to her care would consume my own existence entirely.

This life I've crafted for myself is one I despise, yet a part of me feels I shouldn't. With a good education, a well-paying job, and an undeniable appeal to women, I should feel fulfilled. Instead, I’m left feeling empty and, frankly, disgusted with myself for sounding like a self-pitying fool. What the hell is wrong with me?

Despite my efforts not to belittle others overtly, the impression that people don’t like me is hard to shake off. Loneliness is a constant companion.

If I were to join a reality show, my character might be polarizing. Would the audience appreciate my brutally honest introspections, or would they be repelled by my self-confessed arrogance and emotional detachment? It's intriguing yet terrifying to ponder how my persona would unfold under the constant scrutiny of cameras and a public audience.

I chose the friendship stories category but yeah it's related to friendship, love, family, work... I am like that.

I grew up in a very religious family where our faith has always guided our lives and choices. The teachings I’ve known my whole life tell me that being gay is wrong, and yet, I feel these undeniable attractions that make me question everything. I’ve tried to push it down, to change, to pray it away, but it’s always there, a part of me I can’t ignore.

I don’t know how to reconcile my beliefs with who I am. It feels like every day, I’m torn between two worlds: the expectations of my family and faith, and the reality of my own heart. Am I wrong for feeling this way? Is this something I can change, or should I even try? I’ve heard so many opinions, but deep down, I just want to know if I can truly be at peace with both my faith and myself.

If anyone has gone through something similar, or if you have advice, I’d really appreciate hearing from you. I feel so lost and alone in this struggle, and I just need someone to help me see a way through this.

I never thought I’d end up here, but here I am, dreading every single morning when my alarm goes off. I hate my job. There, I said it. I’ve tried to convince myself that it’s just a phase, that everyone feels like this sometimes, but it’s been almost a year, and nothing’s changed. If anything, it’s gotten worse.

The work itself isn’t even that bad. I mean, it’s not what I’m passionate about, but it’s tolerable. The real problem is the people. My boss is one of those micro-managers who has to be involved in every tiny detail. No matter what I do, it’s never good enough. I’ll spend hours on a project, only for them to nitpick and make me redo the whole thing for no real reason. It’s exhausting and makes me feel like all my effort is pointless.

Then there’s the office culture—or lack of it. Nobody talks to each other unless it’s about work. Lunch breaks feel like detention, with everyone silently eating at their desks or scrolling through their phones. I tried to make friends when I first started, but everyone already seemed to have their little cliques. After a while, I just gave up.

What really gets to me, though, is the constant pressure. It’s like they expect us to give 110% all the time, but they don’t give anything back. Overtime is practically mandatory, but don’t expect a “thank you” or even acknowledgment for staying late. And forget about a raise or promotion—that’s a pipe dream. It’s hard not to feel bitter when you’re working so hard and getting nothing in return.

I keep telling myself I should just quit, but it’s not that simple. I’ve got bills to pay, and the job market isn’t exactly booming right now. Plus, there’s this tiny voice in the back of my head that keeps asking, “What if the next job is just as bad—or worse?” It’s like I’m stuck in this cycle where I hate my job, but I’m too scared to leave.

Even at home, I can’t seem to escape it. I’m constantly checking emails or stressing about the next deadline. It’s like my job has taken over my entire life, and I don’t know how to take it back. My family keeps telling me to just hang in there, but they don’t understand how draining it is. By the end of the day, I’m too tired to even think about applying for other jobs, let alone pursuing something I actually enjoy.

Sometimes, I wonder if it’s me. Maybe I’m just not cut out for this kind of work. Or maybe I’m being ungrateful because at least I have a job. But then I think about how miserable I am, and I can’t help but feel like there has to be more to life than this. Doesn’t there?

If anyone else feels this way, I’d love to know how you’re coping—or if you’ve managed to get out, how did you do it? Right now, I just feel stuck, and honestly, it’s hard to see a way forward. All I know is, I can’t keep living like this. Something’s gotta give.