Life Stories and Everyday Drama

bipolar disorder... let's talk about it, okay? i'm just really fed up with the sheer amount of myths floating around about this. there's so many people out there who think they know everything but honestly have no clue what they're talking about. like, one minute they're acting all sympathetic and the next they're making ridiculous assumptions!! it's frustrating af! i mean, sure, everyone has heard the term 'bipolar disorder' but do most really understand what it means? i doubt it.

people often imagine someone who is constantly switching between extreme moods in a blink of an eye!!! hello?? that's not exactly how it works. it's not some sort of emotional light switch that flips on and off at random. it's more complicated than that, you know? sometimes i've got days where i'm totally fine and then other times things just get way too overwhelming to handle; does that sound like a freaking light switch to you???? yeah, didn't think so.

i had a friend once who thought being bipolar was just being super moody and indecisive; he kept saying stuff like 'just make up your mind already!' as if it were all that simple. it's not like choosing which movie to watch or deciding between pizza or burgers for dinner. this isn't something trivial!!! ugh makes me wanna pull my hair out sometimes! 🤦‍♂️ seriously though, we need more understanding and less myth spreading when it comes to mental health issues like this.

It's so stupid, thinking about this after all that happened and after all this time, but I miss my friends. I miss when we were kids and people mistook up for family. I miss when making mud cakes and playing with their cat was the most important thing we had to do. I miss we i could certainly say that they would never lie to me. I was wrong of course. But i believed It with all my heart because that was the closest i had ever been, and maybed ever will be, to someone.

And honestly, i saw It coming, I even said to their face, That i felt something was wrong. And they told me i was over thinking it.

And It was normal. We grew up. It was bound to happen eventually. But it still hurt when It actually happened. It still hurts now.

And I hate them now, and maybe they probably never even cared.

We will never be friends again. And I don't think i'll ever stop missing them. And It going to hurt everytime i meet someone even remotely similiar because i will never have that kind of connection again.

So here's the thing: I always thought that saying "If you're in love with two persons choose the second one" was some cheesy rom-com crap, something you'd find on a quote poster next to "Live Laugh Love". But dang it, maybe it's got some truth to it. A couple of months ago, I was caught up in this whirlwind drama where I had feelings for two people at the same time. Yup, exactly as messy and confusing as it sounds! It's like my heart couldn't make up its stupid mind. There was person one, who I've known forever. The kind of friend that turns into more, you know? Comforting, reliable... but maybe too predictable? And then there was person two who just swooped in all charming and exciting like a breath of fresh air. Made me feel alive with all these butterflies and stuff. Now that's what you call a plot twist!

I spent sleepless nights overthinking until my brain felt like mashed potatoes. Eventually, after weighing pros and cons like some sort of emotional calculator, I picked person one thinking 'better the devil you know', right? Big mistake! Not even weeks later did reality hit hard when all those old routines came creeping back reminding me why things never took off before; predictability kills romance folks!!!! Meanwhile person two drifted outta my life like yesterday's news leaving behind questions 'what if...?' rippling through ever since. Guess "you snooze ya lose" is fitting here huh?!

Yeah yeah hindsight is 20/20 blah blah but seriously why didn't someone shake sense into me?! All those signs staring right at ya yet ya still screw up royal style (my own personal version of love island without cameras). It's frustrating how easily comfort can blind us from genuine feelings sometimes creating this false security blanket wrapped tight around our choices convinced they're correct while deep down inside whispers tell ya otherwise.

Now I'm stuck playing catch-up trying desperately not letting regret drown everything else out coz honestly coulda-beens really suck don't they!? So lesson learned folks: trust your gut even when logic screams opposite direction coz let's face it sometimes hearts are smarter than brains anyway amirite?? Anyway good old hallmark advice wins again! Next time I'll listen... maybe...

its not good to see breast cancer clinics as an occult centre but that is what happened to my family. we were singled out and tortured by the staff who wanted to live in our street and abuse us on their drug bender. it was a church bound hospital. that was most of the problem that religion was being wrongly used for sexual depravity and decline and abuses. the crime is there's to own for life behind bars when surgeons do illegal practices and drugs and harvest abuse on the kids of the patient. i can't forgive and won't. and you can't have my house. i will charge you with illegal wrongful surgeries. as it is i had one bad medical one done on me a few years ago and they are still trying to kill me. they sexualised at my vagina and i think gave me an std that i might have to have the other side cut out where the penis poison touched i don't know why they keep doing this to me. as i have not had sex other then forced assault and its been a poophouse journey i didn't ask for . but i think i have legal rights on this and if they keep abusing me. i will talk more to a doctor about all this. cuz to go cut the other side of my vagina from 14 years ago where the other side was cut out cancer cells is a worry and so i am told you can't get stds from toilet seats and sex toys or other things that easy, its actually hard for the virus to live outside the human morphis.

Can you really have more than one love language? I mean, I get it that everyone has their own way of expressing and receiving love, but isn't it going a bit overboard to juggle between multiple ones? Listen, I'm not some relationship guru or anything, but I can't ignore the fireworks people make about these 'love languages'. We're living in an era where saying “I love you” ten different ways seems like the new normal; where an itch to receive gifts might just translate into your partner's idea of a warm hug. But man, how do you navigate through this labyrinth when there’s so much contradiction? 😅

Relationships aren't exactly my forte. Nevertheless, I've seen folks bend over backward trying to tick off every box on the love language checklist. It's chaotic seeing them bounce from words of affirmation straight to physical touch and back again. If you're whispering sweet nothings while simultaneously pulling off grand acts of service... doesn't it become exhausting rather quick? Trying so hard to be who they think you need them to be is like watching someone running a marathon at sprint pace.

The theory behind those five love languages is cool though: words of affirmation, acts of service, receiving gifts, quality time and physical touch... all neat little boxes right? They say understanding these helps build stronger connections (or whatever) but isn’t assuming everyone fits neatly into one or even worse forcing yourself into a specific category problematic in itself? Sigh... People seem so obsessed with fitting themselves into these molds as if that's gonna magically fix their relationship woes.

Not gonna lie; I'm guilty of buying into this hype too once upon a time. 🙄 Everyone's raving about how knowing each other's language can smooth things out but isn't it possible we're overcomplicating simple human affection? Isn't love supposed to be intuitive rather than instructional manual dependent? It annoys me endlessly when something beautiful becomes industrialized just because some 'expert' scribbled a bestseller.

In conclusion (if there's ever such a thing when ranting), maintaining genuine bonds shouldn't feel like deciphering ancient hieroglyphics or jumping through flaming hoops for validation! Let heart-led actions guide instead: chase authenticity over gimmicks any day! But then again... what do I know anyway?

being in the corporate world for so many years, i have realized just how easy it is to fall into the trap of emotions when you're constantly working with people. at 35, here I am wondering how to stop this frivolous cycle of falling in love with my colleagues over and over again! maybe it's the eight-hour days and endless meetings where you get drawn into their quirks which make them irresistible sometimes, or perhaps it's the camaraderie established on shared professional challenges that makes everything more intense. i mean, who wouldn't find someone attractive when they're so passionate about what they do? but there are times when professionalism should be maintained above all else and not influenced by a personal attachment.

it's really rather inconvenient for me when these feelings spark up often against reason; i keep telling myself that we must maintain clear boundaries between personal life and our work environment otherwise i'm inviting unnecessary complications within my career trajectory. maintaining this constant balance seems a hard-won battle especially since people have seamless ways of winning someone's heart without intending to! knowing fully well the repercussions it causes on my overall productivity levels during tasks or decision-making processes drives me nuts. worse still: each time i try to rationalize or suppress those butterflies in my stomach only leads towards tangled scenarios which eventually become embarrassing if mishandled! think about closing contentious deals while your heart does somersaults whenever you hear one particular voice!

someone might suggest focusing entirely on workload as distraction but there'll always be occasions such as project collaborations requiring interpersonal engagement! unfortunately attempts like avoiding any rapport beyond professionality barely lasts long enough until natural attraction reignites through little things!! simple gestures: an offer of coffee during break room conversations move beyond what could be considered friendly intentions blurring defined lines previously set...and then i'm back at square one struggling yet again determining if current scenario is just infatuation feverishness destined fizzle out soon...or genuine interest worth exploring further entertainment sake or sense plausible outcome eventual turbulence inside office walls...oh quandary!

All my friends, so far away now. I'd love to make some here, in Toronto. I'm always my best with others, being alone is just too much. Gahhh

There I was, 9yo, happy going to the bathroom in the middle of the class. Then I thought "why not poop in the middle of the hallway". Hell yeah, I did it.

Next it was lunch break, when I got out of class everyone was around the poop like "oH MY GOOOOD" and stuff, turns out the blame ended up going for the security guy from school (don't know how it's called in English).

Well, days went by and he never appeared in the school again, and for the history of the entire school it was recorded that it was the security guy. Oops I guess.

So guys i need advice like how do i stop being an actor and i dont mean in like a movie no more like i act when im with different peole like im part of this script where my part is of some irrelevant character in a sense like IM only their to build the plot like im always someone different personality different persona like how do i stop that like idk how to feel things kinda in a sense to get love i have to act this way to get people to like me i have to act this how do i be me if i dont even know what being me means like who am i what am like what is me what is my true self i dont know ive been doing this unconsciously for so long that i dont know who i am anymore kinda just like an imitator im just there and i cant even connect with people i just dont know how to be me if i dont know who me even is and even then its probably why no one will ever choose me because they wont even know themselves im just sad i always think i will get betrayed and when it happens in one way or another i think im right happens a couple of times and i dont know anymore guys like idk i really dont know and it doesnt help when no one ever makes the time to choose you to want to be with you or hangout with you what do i do because im going insane trying to figure what i am or who im supposed to be when i dont know who me is

lately, life has taken an unexpected turn. my wife of seven years decided to leave the house two months ago. she sent me divorce papers through the mail. it's surreal how things can change so quickly; one moment we were planning a weekend getaway and the next i'm looking at legal documents trying to make sense of it all. i can't dwell on negativity though, mainly because I have these two amazing kids who need me more than ever right now.

it's been challenging to say the least but i'm determined to focus on every positive aspect that this new chapter might bring. raising these youngsters on my own has given me a fresh perspective on parenting. every day is a learning experience: from managing school runs to creating impromptu backyard adventures, there’s never a dull moment! 😅

for instance, last weekend, we camped out in our living room watching their favorite movies and making popcorn like it was a five-star cinema. moments like these are precious gems waiting to be appreciated often hidden behind layers of daily chaos; that's what keeps me moving forward with hope and optimism...

ok, I've been doing this therapy thing for 2 freakin' months and guess what? No noticeable difference! 😤 Isn't therapy supposed to work magic or something by now? I'm still feeling all bleh and no enlightenment in sight. What's wrong with me? Did I get a dud therapist or is it just typical fluff? heard some quote about 'patience is a virtue,' but come on, two months of dishing out my life's sob stories should have triggered some mystical change, right?

honestly, i'm paying hefty cash to feel... the same! 🤨 Apparently therapists understand the complexities of one's psyche like nobody else. Random internet advice claims 'progress isn't linear', but aren't there supposed to be some signs of progress after continuously emptying your emotional reserves during sessions? While pondering Aristotle's rant about 'knowing thyself', I wonder if self-actualization decides to take its sweet time. maybe hope's this elusive carrot dangling forever ahead while I race along the existential treadmill.

So me and a friend that I haven't seen in a while was hanging out. I havent talked to him or heard from him in almost 2 years which was strange how he wanted too just "hang out". It was around 9:00 at night and I already got into my plush fuzzy grey pajama pants when he asked too hang out. I didnt feel like changing bc i was so comfy. So I just decided too throw my super soft fleece jacket on and go pick him up. Well I picked him up and we were just chilling hanging out and drinking beers in the truck. Thats when he asked me if I been seeing this girl nam abby and so i said yes ive been seeing her for months. As soon as I said that he reached right between my legs and got a super hard grip on my plush covered balls and I didnt have any underwear on bc the pants are super super soft I immediately whimpered and moaned and closed my legs which made his grip even tighter I felt so confused on why my balls were being squeezed especially through these specific pants and what he said next made every thing make sense he said " I figured you would be in these pants ive always wanted to bust your balls in them I just needed a reason and now I got a reason" I responded back with a breathless moan "wtf did I do pleaseee let go ahhhh" well apparently Abby was his recent ex and I had no clue bc I havent seen him in years.

I've been struggling with ADHD recently and it's just exhausting. People assume ADHD is always this quirky, distracted behavior but it's not that simple, right? It's the constant battle to keep myself from getting sucked into distractions while trying to focus on a task. And when I say 'constant', I mean it! Every single day feels like I'm juggling ten tasks at once and dropping half of them.

I tried all those suggested coping mechanisms: lists, timers, even taking breaks (which ironically sometimes makes me lose track even more). The thing is, they help a little here and there but never enough to make the chaos manageable. Plus, people tend to think medication is some kind of magic fix but it isn't really... it's more like another tool mixed with its own set of challenges and side effects.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm just not disciplined enough or if these standard coping mechanisms aren't designed for everyone? You know what gets me though? Whenever there's talk about productivity or focus in work settings, it always seems like they're built around neurotypical brains. I've yet to find something that acknowledges how managing time and attention can be an ongoing uphill battle for someone like me who is constantly fighting against their own mind's wiring! Does anyone else ever feel this way?!

I've sort of... vented some heavy things here. So much pain.. so much memory. Too much of everything. But some memories keep me warm in the dark, when all I see is violence and all I hear are screams long since past their point of echo.

I think of my boy, my dog, my Spike. A dachshund. Large for his breed, loud. A beautiful animal, gods own touch.

We'd taken him in from a place no better than ours.. but, for a time.. it was. As Home fell into chaos and my childhood became what it was, there he was with me. I sought escape. I sought anything good.

As time marched, I wasn't able to have many friends. I was isolated. Forcefully. Coupled with the things my family was doing, the things in which they were involved.. but here he was. My boy. I wish I had a happy ending here. I wish.. so bad.

He meant everything to me. More than my own life. I could be beaten, tied down, the worst you can imagine.. but no harm to him. I fought for him, in that place. Where even children suffered. Where perversion and.. just. Evil. Rampant evil. I began to try and run away from home..I couldn't always take him. She, my mother, she knew his worth to me. God help me typing this. God please.

I just need to get it out. Once just once. Forgive me if you read this, and find only pain. ims orry

I would take him everywhere. Hikes, into the mountains. I showed him places most only reached by helicopter. I took him to sights many would think too impractical or unsafe for him to see; Ancient, titanic landslides hundreds of KM into the Unknown, or little seen.

I took him to stagnant glaciers, to the ocean that was the tops of each mountain, behind the Diamond, as we called it- the largest mountain near. Black, smooth peaks. They were like massive, frozen waves. And there he was, on my pack. At my side. Happy, loving me. I spent so long nurturing that sweet innocent life. He was so mistreated as a pup... he was so afraid. Like me.

But he was brave too. Like any dog, full of adventure and curiosity. One time, damn me for losing any pictures of this, I put an orange bandana on him, and little shades. He was ecstatic to be included in human clothes ahah.

Didn't last.. animals in my home.. didn't last. Then, I was far too young. I didn't see, it wasn't just me, just us kids, being abused. And eventually, everyone but me remained. Me and Her. She knew, as my escape attempts became more complex.. only time. Just a matter of time. So She did what any abuser does: Destroy something I love.

I escaped from home, after time. Ran. Alone. 14 years old. No one to help. I tried to take him.. no place would take me with him. No shelter. I pleaded, I screamed I threatened. No one cared. I couldn't go back, not without a way to save him. So I.. did my own thing. Somehow, finished school . Got a job, my own place- at that unlearned age, fuck, man.

All the while She hunted me. Always. Somehow the Law just.. wouldn't take her, not then. No matter what she did.. those fucking cowards..

One day; I received a message. The dog was dying. No way to save him. I felt something. Idk what. I just.. knew it was Her, my mother. That witch who wears skin like she's human, but has done so much to prove otherwise. She told me- come, come say goodbye. I was torn. She wouldn't lay a finger on me, or I'd.. do what I needed. But.. three years now. I was 17, I was.. maybe I should. I'm bigger. I can take her. I'll go, I'll see my baby.. maybe take him? Anything. I told her if she valued her life, she'd leave the talking to me. So much had happened..You cannot understand. The woman tore part of my face open as a boy. She... I had my reasons for being so.. cold. I was young. scared.

But I went. What a mess.. my boy. Grayed. Older. He was so happy to see me, I nearly screamed in anguish to see how he struggled to come to me. My only friend, my only family. no

but yes

I took him into my arms. I took him and walked to his favorite place. The beach... he whined. wanted to run oh my God but he couldn't. He vomited.. blood all over me. His eyes became white.

He whined, and.. the pain my baby. My boy. It was the worst I had ever suffered. No.. beating nor burns nothing. Nothing compared. I demanded- what the fuck?? How is he puking his entrails, what. the. FUCK? I told mother- explain freely, or have it beaten from you. I was furious. Bloodlust.. I'm not.. I'm not happy to share this.. even here. But. It's true.

She took my shoulders. A soft voice.. What is this, I thought. She has only EVER been violent, been aggressive, hateful. She's.. only ever done this once- when.. she killed my snake.. My python..

She'd hated that thing. The bulbs kept bursting.. she was tired of replacing them. I came home.. it's head was flat. Guts trailed down its body. I asked her- then, I was 12- what happened?

She looked at me with the same eyes, same voice: "I'm sorry darling. Dehydration." I knew it was a lie..

And instantly, I smacked her away, hard, violently. I held my boy to me, and told her to get away. She tried to soothe me, running her hands on my shoulders. But I knew.

She told me a rival- some other druggie whore- had poisoned him. Anti-freeze. She said she would get revenge for me.

I told her nothing, not then. Spike began to die in my arms... more blood. Rage and anguish.. The ONLY THING ID EVER BEEN ALLOWED TO HAVE. Gone.

I took his body. Walked home, covered in his blood. I felt.. I.. don't know. Pain. Sorrow. I felt I needed to die; I failed him. I should have saved him, even if it meant killing that bitch. Such innocence.. my baby. And so innocent as God makes all creatures that aren't men, that aren't US.

I had a name- the would be poisoner. I confronted her- of all places- in her deathbed. Her family.. I.. don't take pride.. in it. I put the fear of God almighty into them. Me, this broken young boy, filled with vengeful rage... but it wasn't her. I was given proof- rivalry? Sure. They explained the truth. It was all mother. As expected. Mother tried to tell me this woman walked a week away from death, 3 hours into the wilderness to where my mother had been camped- yes, camped- to kill my dog. I was.. idek.

I flew into a rage. Hunted her. She fled.. think of this, I was beaten black and blue from 3 to 14. She.. ran??? From ME??? I didn't have proof concrete proof. But I knew she'd done it. She did. To this day.. I am haunted. Maybe any of who reads this will have already read the other horrors I've posted. For that, I am sorry. But.. this is all I have. I can almost forgive it...the pain. Tied in the dark. The.. other things. Beatings.. worse. Not just by her... I can almost, God damn it, I can almost forget... but my boy? No, no.. I can't. My poor boy. I rescued him from one hell, and I failed to prevent another. I hate Myself for it... I curse the world; I damn my mother that evil whore.. I.. it hurts so much. I'm sobbing even now. God.

My cats also magically disappeared, a year later. The story given, another lie.. She probably killed them too..

This is all so fucked up.. I know. I have so much pain. So much. Hurts so so bad. Want to be held by anyone; but too weak.. too scared. Try to.. talk to counselors. Can't. words choke me, I freeze. Anger and pain and sorrow.. and ALWAYS my Spike. My boy. I'm so sorry I couldn't save you. I'm sorry I was so weak and so scared. Boy or otherwise. I should have risked the winter. I should have died with him. Something, ANYTHING. and here I am now. 26 years old.. I feel 50. 100. I feel broken. I want to get help.. but I'm so scared to face this. God forgive me.. God please forgive me. Spike forgive

my boy my boy. forgive me for everything

If I live into my later years, let me be blessed with the death of memories. Dementia, or something.

I am so alone. No father to teach me how to carry myself.. Mother beyond evil and corrupted. Sought that I would be the same. Whole family is evil, all back stabbers and whores and drug peddlers. They deserve death.. no one came for me. That house fucking haunts me and I can't escape it. I can't talk to anyone I don't know how. I don't know how to be okay or how to vent. it will destroy me. it already is. I can't trust anyone properly. So much sorrow inside me so much rage and anguish. I want to die, but I haven't yet lived. All these stupid years of my cursed existence. Was this the life they wanted for me? to abuse and so horrifically scar me inside and out that I will never find peace?? What God supports this?? is He even there??? I pray. not one answers. God the pain inside is so tangible. I feel it in my mind and in my head and in my heart. So much pain. I want to scream or anything. anything to release me. is death the only way out?? Will I STILL be DAMNED after death?? Why won't it end??

I dont want to remember. I try to forget but I can't. I am alone and I'm scared, I feel like I did all those years ago. Locked in the dark but this time it's me holding the door shut. I wanted family I wanted to be a proper child. I can't have peace. The realization Dawn's on me that not all things that are broken can be fixed. Is that me too?? Surely one can see too much no? My sanity is.. gone, I'm just pain. all the time. I can smile or stay alone but doesn't matter I'm alone anyways. I'm dying this way likely. Can't think straight. Just nerves and memories and no end. no end to it. So much pain.. why why why didn't they just kill me at birth??