Health and Wellness Failures Stories

I feel like we can't talk at all, friends. I feel like we can't talk much on social media. We're judged too much. On Telegram, I'm judged too much. A strange guy came to judge me as crazy. To speak to me in charming, meaningless language. To tell me that what I write formally is hurting the group. Who does he think he is? I can express myself however I want. When I write these posts with beautiful formality, with the desire to see beautifully what's happening to me, what's happening to me, I feel that instead of inspiring him to be a better person, he actually backs down.

How is it possible that posts like mine, which offer such a detailed analysis of my behavior? Very pleasant, very detailed, very beautiful, and also written with refined data, can inspire such destructive criticism as to say that I'm hurting the group, that I'm making it difficult for the group to coexist. Doesn't he realize that what he's providing is an improvement? How disrespectful.

Why, instead of hindering good progress, don't you go somewhere else to do it? There was a guy who wanted to be my ceiling, and I didn't like that. I don't think anyone does. I hate that guy deeply; it doesn't do me any good. Those people who put a ceiling on someone aren't good people. They're always obstacles. By the way, there's a space on Telegram where they tell me that their space is the privileged one for expressing themselves, as if they were the superiors; it turns out I'm very distrustful. It's impossible that I found one of those people in an emotional support group. How is it possible that I found a guy like that?

The previous day, along with a classmate, they told me I was an artificial intelligence. That they should kick me out of the group for that. Can you believe it? I can't believe that because of my writing style, which is what I mentioned above, they considered me one of those things. The problem isn't that; the point is that they told me they should kick me out. How are they going to kick me out after expressing myself? How, after expressing myself through my beautiful writings, are they proposing to kick me out? It was something I couldn't believe. They were monsters. I couldn't believe it. The other guy I mentioned, the one I mentioned earlier, told me I was an artificial intelligence. He insisted, even when I told him no thousands of times. The guy I mentioned earlier insisted, despite being scolded, that I was an artificial intelligence. They even went so far as to claim that my writings couldn't have been written by a human being. I felt extremely offended, angry. I'd never encountered such an offense to myself.

It was like feeling like I had no place anywhere, friends. That my voice, my words, my desire to improve, had no place anywhere. It was one of the most terrifying experiences I'd ever experienced. How could they kick me out of anywhere for expressing myself? Besides a place of support?! It was something I couldn't believe. I wanted to die after that. I never thought I'd have such an experience, ever. Besides, my writing was beautiful, pretty, precious, and didn't bother anyone. They only considered it harmful because it bothered others, because their writing style wasn't theirs. Because I wasn't like them, should I leave? Or should I lower myself to being like them? Everyone's writing is a very personal thing; or rather, their improvement, because that's what I aim for with these writings. It's working with anxiety. How the hell could they frame my process? That's harmful to anyone's health! Both physically and emotionally! How can monsters like that exist on social media? I still can't believe it. It was a truly terrifying experience.

I just wanted to write calmly in that Telegram group. Relaxed, calm. And that's what happens to me. Also, for a long time now, I've been in need of consolation. I confess, I need to talk a lot. I feel very accomplished about things. I feel like I need to talk to someone, but they're not there. She's a girl who should have arrived a long time ago, but she hasn't. I don't know where she is, and I'm worried about her. I don't know what to do about her. I feel like something happened to her or something. I don't know where she is. I swore I'd leave her—I confess—so I could get her out of a negative situation, so she'd somehow reach out to me, and yet she hasn't. I've seen it work with other people, but not with me. Well, I'm being grim: I respected her space. I feel like that's why she should come. Knowing she's with a respectful person, who gives her peace, who doesn't control her life. Why isn't her life coming? Could it be that someone managed to control her life and I don't know them? I feel like she doesn't value the effort I'm making to wait for her. I don't know what to do to run into her. She was supposed to be my life partner, at least, that's what I expected. I feel like I wasted my time looking for a way for her to be with me, also for her pleasure. It can't be that she did this to me, it can't be that she's I'm going through this. This is hell. How could I have lost her?

man, i woke up this morning and I just definitively don't feel good.... i'm 28 for crying out loud, you'd think I'd have my shit together by now. i'm not even sure what's wrong, like, there's nothing specifically happening to cause this funk. is this just adulthood, or am i missing something crucial? seriously, how do other people keep it together so seamlessly while I'm over here struggling to get out of bed most days?

all week i've been stuck in a vicious cycle; i'm tired, but can't sleep; i'm hungry, but can't eat; and don't even get me started on working. sometimes i think to myself, "is there something bigger at play here?" maybe there's some universal energy or something screwing with me. you know that old quote, "sometimes we need a little darkness to see the stars"? it's kind of comforting, but what if it's total BS? like, aren't there stars in the daytime too? 🤔

so my attempts to remedy this have been textbook: i've tried meditating but the silence only made me more anxious. hit the gym, thinking some exercise would help; instead, I felt more exhausted than ever. someone suggested "retail therapy"—what a load of crap. spending all that money I don't even have just stressed me out more. basically, i've run out of options, and I’m starting to think my only salvation might be an alien abduction or something equally drastic. maybe a fresh start on a different planet might do the trick.

despite all this, i'm trying to stay hopeful. i mean, people always say "this too shall pass," right? but what they don't tell you is how slow the passing can be. life does suck sometimes but I guess that's part of "the journey". and if life throws me any more curveballs, I’ll just swing for the fences or whatever—because what’s the alternative? sulking in misery? nah, not my style. i'm clinging to any shred of optimism left like a lifeline—because seriously, what else can one do?

so here I am, spilling my guts online like that’s gonna fix anything. but maybe, just maybe, someone out there can relate or offer a piece of advice that's not straight out of a self-help book. have you faced similar BS and come out on the other side? don't hold out on me, share the secret—what's the meaning of life, or at least the key to feeling like a functional human being again?

at 49 years old, i've arrived at a rather unceremonious realization: nothing makes me happy. it’s strange because society programs us with a checklist for happiness, doesn’t it? i climbed the corporate ladder, securing a lucrative position as a senior executive that one could only dream of. financial security was supposed to be synonymous with contentment, or so they said. but every payday, every bonus, and every dollar accumulated in my bank account seemed to lose its luster within days. i attended countless seminars and read numerous self-help books yet the existential void within me remained unfilled. when i banked my first six-figure check, i briefly basked in what i assumed was joy. but the novelty of a swollen account balance wore off faster than i care to admit.

I figured maybe i needed something more soulful, like marriage and a family. i received talk after talk about how a loving husband and a couple of kids would complete me; “your own personal cheerleaders in this rat race!” my mother constantly reminded me. dating was a nightmare coated in fake smiles and dreadful first-date questions, which i obliged to endure. against all odds, i did marry. i am married. yet even within the once-romantic confines of what was supposed to be ‘happily ever after', i often feel as though I'm in a partnership devoid of passion and genuine connection. this supposed 'holy grail' of familial bliss feels more like treading water than anything else.

having a home with a white picket fence painted the picture of the quintessential american dream i bought into it: lock, stock, and barrel. talk about a classic case of bait and switch; i found myself obsessing over the curb appeal and interior aesthetics, contemplating if a new sectional in the living room would spark joy. but let me tell you, there is no depth or warmth to hardwood floors that compensates for an empty, echoing house. similarly with cars – the gleaming metal beasts parked strategically in the driveway as status symbols – all nothing more than shiny cages on wheels. behind the tinted windows of my latest luxury car, the road ahead feels as mundane as stepping onto a public transit bus.

are these the metrics by which we should measure our happiness? it is almost cruel how these societal benchmarks – job, marriage, possessions – are willed to us as recipes for happiness, when instead they align more with a cycle of perennial dissatisfaction. why do we perpetuate this fallacy? often, i catch myself longing for the present moment to end as quickly as it began, as if i am perpetually waiting for a revelatory experience that never arrives. “chase after this, achieve this, by forty you’ll be settled,” they said; when in reality, here i am with these supposedly gratifying possessions yet feeling no different than the restless, aspiring 20-year-old who began this relentless pursuit. tell me, what am i missing in this equation? should I try to completely change my job for something that i love? (but no idea... what could I love as a job...)

you ever just lie in bed and wonder why the hell you're tossing and turning all night??? like seriously, what gives??!! i'm talking about getting tangled in sheets, flipping pillows to the cool side every damn ten minutes, counting every sheep like a math problem gone wrong, but nothing works, right???!! i'm sick of playing this nocturnal game where sleep remains the ultimate prize that seems so far out of reach!!! aren't we all just combatting our own circadian rhythms' betrayal???? i mean, the pineal gland is supposed to secrete melatonin to help us snooze but apparently mine's gone on vacation. you ever consider how cortisol plays into this mess, keeping us wired and wide-eyed when all we want is some peace and damn quiet???? sleep hygiene experts preach about creating an optimal sleep environment, like cool, dark, and quiet settings but what if it's not the physical space that's the problem?? maybe it's the mental clutter or unresolved tension from the day that's keeping us in this nightly rut?! like, who doesn't have a carousel of anxious thoughts spinning in their head the second they hit the sack?!! brain, would you mind giving it a rest for once??!!! why does it feel like you're the lead protagonist in this insomnia-driven drama, directed by the hypothalamus and the overproduction of cortisol?!?! does nobody else wonder why our internal thermostats decide to go haywire and suddenly midnight feels like we're lying on the surface of the sun??? the irony of a sleep number bed in which your only consistent number is zero makes me question why i even bother with these expensive sleep aids??!! we pay for weighted blankets, sound machines, and blackout curtains yet the cogs in our overactive brains still churn like a sleep-deprived hamster wheel!!!!! these sleep disruptions aren't just a mere inconvenience, aren’t they potentially eroding our REM sleep, intricately interlinked with cognitive function and emotional regulation???? why don’t we question how the pituitary gland contributes to this insomniac orchestra, blaring its growth hormones at nocturnal hours when all we crave is silence??? on that note, why does the world consistently underestimate the value of proper restorative rest??? why aren't we prioritizing sleep with the same intensity we allocate to fitness and diet?!! it's like an ongoing battle of trying to tune into a calm brainwave pattern but always ending up with the static noise of random worries!!! do digital devices or blue light villains interfere with our pathetic attempts at counting sheep??!! i'd sacrifice half my social media scrolling time for just five extra minutes of actual, honest-to-god deep sleep, wouldn't you???? sure, caffeine's an antagonist in this thriller story, yet why does your overtired self crave it like the elixir of life the following day?? irony much?! wouldn't you agree that the moment we drift into a slight drowsy state, the daily catastrophe slideshow begins on repeat???? like, why is memory consolidation and dreaming entangled in this storytelling of nonsensical adventures that I’d never embark on willingly???!!! does nobody else ponder how each futile sleep cycle contributes to the endless narrative of frustration and fatigue?!! i'm just baffled by this nightly absurdity, questioning whether it's a cosmic joke played on all sleep-starved souls out there!!! i swear the hippocampus and amygdala have something more sinister planned when i'm left there starring into the abyss of the ceiling at ungodly hours!! you get what i'm saying, right??? the intricate science behind sleep, the circadian rhythm, neurotransmitters, and neuroendocrine pathways are so damn fascinating yet infuriating when you can't find the off switch!!! why aren't we figuring out this enigma that plagues the best of us??! why does sleep feel elusive as ever, a riddle wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma??? please tell me, next time you toss and turn, will you join me in this quest for answers?????!!

What the hell is happening in my own house?? I used to think I had it together—career, family, routine. But lately, I wake up already exhausted, and it’s not because of work or age. It’s these damn teenage kids!!! Every day is a damn psychological battle!!! Mood swings, slammed doors, sarcastic answers, zero respect for boundaries!!! And don’t get me started on screen time—why the hell am I always the bad guy for setting limits??? I try to keep calm, but my voice always ends up shaking, like my whole system’s on overload. Hormones?? Sure. But what about mine?? Am I supposed to just keep absorbing the chaos until I crack?? Is that the plan?? Because it sure feels like it.

Even basic things like dinner or chores turn into full-blown negotiations!!! I’m not their damn project manager!!! I ask for plates to be cleared, and somehow I’m triggering a “mental health episode”??? I didn’t sign up for emotional hostage situations every evening!!! And don’t give me that “gentle parenting” crap—I’m not trying to be their friend, I’m trying to keep the household running without going clinically insane!!! Do they see what they’re doing??? Or am I the only one who’s drowning in this mess??? I walk into their rooms and it smells like puberty and rebellion had a baby. I’m not even trying to fix them anymore. I’m just trying not to lose myself in the process.

So yeah, I’m scared. Scared that one day I’ll snap and not come back from it. I have intrusive thoughts I don’t want. I hear my own voice and don’t recognize it. Ever feel that?? Like you’re watching yourself spiral but still expected to drive carpool and make dentist appointments??? I go through the motions like a damn automaton, but inside, I’m questioning my own stability every five minutes!!! Is this what it looks like before you lose your mind??? Or am I already halfway there??!! I don’t need a diagnosis or sympathy. I just needed to write this out before I scream at a wall or throw my phone at something. Maybe someone out there gets it. Maybe not. Doesn’t matter.

I am unsure how to begin but I guess it’s something that has been staying inside for a while now and I need to let it out??? I am 32 years old, male, and in a situation where things are not as I would prefer them to be; not terrible or tragic or chaotic — just not what I expected, not fulfilling, not truly aligned with what I believed life would look like at this point. I go to work, I come home, I eat, I sleep, and then I repeat, and while the routine itself is not harmful or unhealthy or anything, it lacks warmth, it lacks color, it lacks anything that feels meaningful!!! Is that what growing up is about??? Being stable but entirely emotionally neutral??? Because if it is, I’m not happy!!!

My days feel long but the weeks fly by — isn’t that odd??? I sit at my desk, handle all my responsibilities, stay polite with coworkers, I answer calls, I go to meetings, I complete my tasks in time, and then I go home, and when I get there, it’s not like anything is waiting for me. It’s not depressing, it’s just flat. I don’t hate my life, but I certainly don’t love it either. There is no one waiting at home to talk to me, and I do not have the energy to reach out to others — not because I don’t care, but because I just don’t know what I would even say. “Hi, how are you?” seems fake. “Can we talk?” seems too much. I cook dinner, or I order something when I’m too tired, and I sit alone while I eat and scroll on my phone, but I don't even care what I’m looking at??? Why do we do this???

Weekends are the strangest part of it all. People look forward to them, don’t they??? Two days to do what you want — but what is it I even want anymore??? I used to go on hikes or meet with friends, but now everyone is busy or married or away or just not in that headspace. I clean my apartment, I do laundry, I water my plants — yes, I have plants, and they’re still alive somehow, which makes me feel like I’m doing okay, at least at the bare minimum. Sometimes I try new recipes or reorganize my shelves just to make the hours pass faster. It’s like I’m filling time with filler tasks, not because I want to but because I don’t want to sit still and think too much. But is that living??? Or just not dying???

I understand this all probably sounds dramatic but I assure you I am just being honest. I’m not sad. I’m not angry. I’m not even really anxious, which surprises me. I just... feel muted. And I think there must be other people out there who feel the same and maybe they also don’t talk about it much??? Maybe they’re sitting in their living rooms wondering what the point is, and wondering if they should be grateful for the peace or resentful for the emptiness. I’m not asking for sympathy — just wondering out loud, typing it here, hoping someone might read this and nod and say “yeah, same.” That would be enough for me!!! Just knowing someone out there understands, without needing to fix it or change it or judge it.

Still, I try to look ahead. I make lists of things to do that I might enjoy. I signed up for a language course — maybe learning something new will help, maybe meeting people through that will shift something. I even started jogging again last week, and my legs hated it but I kind of liked the effort, the movement, the sweat. It reminded me I’m still in there somewhere, still alive. I think hope doesn’t always come from big dreams or sudden joy, sometimes it’s just the choice to keep trying, even when it feels pointless; I’ll keep showing up, doing small things, adjusting when I can, and maybe eventually, things will feel lighter. Maybe that’s the point??? Not to feel amazing all the time, but just to keep moving until something clicks. Are you also not happy??? Maybe we’re not alone in this.

not gonna lie, 37 doesn't feel anything like what i thought it would. sure, i'm older and theoretically wiser, but when it comes to self-worth? it's like i'm stuck back in high school, constantly questioning if i'm enough. i mean, you’d think by now i'd have it figured out, right? maybe it's just me, but society keeps pushing this insane idea that by a certain age, we should have it all together. yet here i am, feeling like a complete failure in various aspects of my life.

sometimes i wonder if it's society setting the bar so damn high, or if i'm just incompetent. ever feel like you're just going through the motions, ticking boxes but not actually moving forward? that's been my reality for a while. career-wise, i’m stuck in a job that's more soul-sucking than rewarding. my friends joke about their "real" jobs while i'm over here hustling in something that pays the bills but kills the spirit. who knew following passions could lead to this much existential dread? 🙃 how many others are out there, grappling with the same silent despair because they haven't “made it” yet?

and don't even get me started on relationships. it's not that i'm desperate for companionship, but sometimes the societal pressure feels like a chokehold. those phrases like "biological clock" and "settle down" aren't just words, they start to feel like accusations. even my family, who mean well, toss in their two cents every goddamn time we talk. as if i haven't considered it all before, as if i'm oblivious to the endless cycle of tantrums at family dinners. can they not see i’d figure it out if i could? the audacity! i swear, if i hear another "when are you going to settle down?" again, i might scream. am i really the only one who feels this exhausted by it all?

the worst part? social media. it's a double-edged sword that's mostly torture. scrolling through endless posts of other people’s curated versions of success just fuels the sense of inadequacy. everyone looks like they’re winning at life, and it’s hard not to compare yourself to yet another “inspirational” story. it’s as if speaking about feeling worthless online is the last taboo. why pretend to be perfect when nobody actually has their shit together? it's baffling. can we just agree that being in your late thirties is a confusing mess, and maybe it's okay to admit it sometimes?

so here i am, 37, female, feeling lost and stuck, but still trudging forward. does it ever get better, or are we all just faking it until we make it? who knows. i've accepted that maybe there's no one-size-fits-all answer and that maybe, just maybe, the key is to stop giving a damn about what everyone else thinks. a person can only handle so much “constructive criticism” before it just becomes noise. until i figure it all out, i’ll keep venting here. thanks for reading, whoever you are.

I’m a reallyyyy shallow person I feel like my feelings are fake and I know on some level that’s impossible but I always have no idea what is foing on with me and I’m scared to say anything about it aloud. Not because I think I have to deal with it alone but because it’s fickle and it’s gross I don’t like it I really don’t understand it.

I swear I can feel my forehead. and my head gets stuck in these hell spells where there is a thought that physically weighs on my brain it hurts and it won’t stop till it drills me into accepting or complying to its will even if I don’t agree with it. there is something swimming in my head it drives me crazy . As much as I joke about my forgetfulness forgetting so much is fucking awful bc, again, you know this, I know this, but it keeps happening anyway with any problem I have, I’ll lose my train of thought or I’ll forget details of how a situation played out in about a day. I’ll know on a surface level what happened but it’s like killll meee I can’t even be miserable without my dumbass intervening somehow

Dude I cant see anything that happens to me as bad afterwards it’s like ‘wow… that’s an event.’ but when people confirm so its like holy whiplash I wanna take back anything I said so fast because everything’s fine, it genuinely is sometimes but it’s not at the same time

Because if i stop thinking about it it’s gone and if i wear someone else’s skin, even just for a while, i won’t have that problem in the first place

I’m in this cycle where I hate living like this I hate me I hate everything, then it’s all perfect and I wonder why I had ever thought this way until it comes right back again. I cant do this anymore I swear it hurts too much this is killing me it is going to kill me one day

I wrote this slop sometime last night im fine again. it’s not explained well but I know it will only keep coming back (this is happening so often in the span of a week), any opinion appreciated im just lost. does anybody feel the same? does anybody know what is happening? does anybody know how to make it stop?

Man, I've hit my forties, and you'd think by now I'd have life all figured out. But nah, I'm still struggling with this one thing: sleep. I'm just here wondering why on earth I can't sleep even though I'm dead tired. It's like, come on body, work with me here! Like, ever had those nights where you're so freaking exhausted, you just want to crash, but your brain's like, “Nope, not today, buddy!” Seriously, what gives???

I mean, I've tried all those tips and tricks, you know? Warm milk, counting sheep, no caffeine after lunch. Heck, I've even tried listening to those soothing ocean sounds, but nah, my brain's like a hyper monkey jumping branches. Why is it always 3 AM when your mind wants to revisit that embarrassing thing you did in third grade? Anyone else relate to this?? Sometimes I wonder if it's just my age catching up with me or if there's some other cosmic joke playing out. My doctor says it's stress or, maybe, it's my diet. But let me tell you, even when I've had a chill day, this brain isn't ready to hit the snooze button.

Here's a funny story: Back in the day, in my twenties, I could party all night, sleep like a baby, and be up and running the very next day! Those were the days, huh? Now, if I stay up past 10 PM, I pay for it with full-on sleepless nights. Oh, the irony! It's like my body's saying, "Remember all those late nights? Payback time!" Anyway, I guess it happens to the best of us. Maybe it's all part of life's grand plan. Are we all just sleepless zombies muddling through??

Honestly, it's not all doom and gloom. I've started embracing this extra "me time" at night. Sometimes, I get up, grab a cup of herbal tea, and just enjoy the quiet of the house. I've started keeping a journal by my bed—more like scribbles than actual writing, but hey, it helps. Random thoughts, ideas, things I want to do the next day. It’s become this weirdly soothing ritual, and dare I say, it gives me hope! Maybe you guys should try it too if you’re in the same boat. You never know, it might just click!!!

And who knows? Perhaps this sleepless journey is taking me somewhere. Like, maybe there's a reason behind all of this night-time contemplation. Could be I'm destined to have some great epiphany. Maybe I'm chasing something bigger than just sleep. They say the darkest hour is just before dawn, right? So, I'm keeping my chin up, hoping for that dawn to come. After all, isn't life about finding balance? It's all about rolling with the punches, despite the midnight madness, or lack thereof!

(T.w.: Mentions of Self Harm)

Alright! I had a history of self harm when I was younger, but stopped after a couple of years, but then a couple of months ago I was feeling upset with myself and insane guilt especially when it came to my studying, so I thought of ways I could " punish" myself when i didnt study so that I relieve myself of the intense guilt, like basically consequences for my actions, and my brain was like why not self harm? So I went back to it. It felt so good?,after I finish and sit with the pain I would be reminded that I paid of my dues and thus there is no reason to feel guilty, then I would go study and the pain would be a very nice reminder.

I was always careful, just cutting enough to bleed but not a huge scar, i didnt want anyone to know and think im asking for attention..

BUT one day, same thing happened, I didn't study so I went to self harm then planned to start studying immediately, but I dont know what I did differently that time? I cut myself and suddenly I'm seeing the pink of the dermis and a pretty long cut with lots of blood.. long story short, I needed stitches, had to tell my parents a very odd story of me somehow falling on glass? and went to the doctor.. I didnt even end up getting stitches, because I waited for 3 days before I fessed up and it was too late, but it was infected and so I was put on antibiotics. Very likely I'll scar for life. It felt like I was being branded for my mistakes and the control was taken away from me. I didn't allow myself to think about it for the next 2 weeks... and I couldnt for the life of me get myself to study eventhough I had a very large exam. I hated how it was gapping, how it opened when I moved, I didn't want to see it or feel it. If I try to get myself to get over it I would get these intrusive thoughts of putting a knife into it till I reached the bone. ( I would never ever do that) I didn't care about the wound itself, infact if I got it by an accident or so I wouldnt have been that bothered by it, but the fact that I caused harm, even to my own body this way was so ? Jarring ?? I know its pretty late in the story to mention this, but I am a medical student. It felt like... I didn't deserve to be a doctor, that I can't possibly be.. Eventhough I put so much effort to get in. Anyway back to the story, even when I procrastinated in the past I never lost control as much as I felt this time, and despite the exam looming close I never could get myself to study properly.. so I sorta didn't. Eventhough I wouldve never studied this way in the past, no matter where I was I would always put in enough effort atleast. The worst exam ive ever given in my life. And I can't even get myself to think about it. I don't know how will I ever forgive myself for all this, it just feels like the self hatred is building and I dont know where I stand. Marks are very important where I am in life right now, imagining that I would ruin my future because of this mistake is like?

Eventhough deep down i dont believe in this, I completely believe everything happens for a reason and for a good one, but I just can't for the life of me stomach the haterd, guilt and blaming I feel for myself.

How do I forgive myself for all this? Can I ever be a good doctor the way i am? How will I ever regain control? I lost it, over my body, over my studying... i have no trust in myself anymore.

Life can feel impossibly heavy sometimes. I am 46 years old, and while I can’t claim to know exactly what you're going through, I do know the shape of pain. I’ve carried it, too. I’ve sat alone in the dark hours wondering if things would ever get better, or if this—this version of life filled with loss, fear, or doubt—was all there would be. But I’m still here, and so are you. That’s not nothing. In fact, it’s the first and most important thing. You’re still here. That means hope still lives within you, even if it’s quiet and hiding.

What you are facing today may feel endless. You might be reading this because everything hurts more than you expected. And maybe you're wondering if it ever stops, if people really come out the other side. I won’t lie to you and say it’s easy or that it ends quickly. Some pain leaves slowly; some parts of us change along the way. But what I can promise is that healing is not a myth. It’s not reserved for the lucky. It’s real, and it finds its way into lives even when it seems impossible. Sometimes, we don’t even notice the moment things begin to shift—until one day, we wake up and the weight is just a little lighter.

I read many stories here. Stories of heartbreak, of confusion, of people feeling forgotten. I want to say something very simple to each of you: it’s going to be okay. Not perfect, not always clear—but okay. Life doesn’t always tie itself into neat conclusions, but it does offer us new chapters. You have to stay long enough to see them. Please, hang in there. Do not let a temporary moment convince you that things are permanently broken. I’ve seen change in my own life—when I had no job, no partner, no direction—and I found a path again, slowly. You can too; I truly believe that.

So if you are in that dark place right now, please ask yourself: what would happen if I gave tomorrow one more chance? Maybe that’s all you need to do today—just make the decision to continue. Take rest when you need it. Let your heart mend at its own pace. You don’t have to be strong every minute. You just have to keep showing up for yourself. And if no one has told you today, let me be the one to say: you matter. Your pain matters. Your story is not over ❤️

ever had that feeling when you're just so anxious, like the world’s closing in, and then suddenly you're burning up with fever? so, i was just wondering if anxiety can actually cause a fever or if it’s all in my head. i'm 17 and honestly, the thought's been bugging me for a while now. whenever i have a big test coming up, or something stressful happens, i start feeling really hot. maybe it’s the nerves? i always thought fever was more about being sick, but it’s hard to ignore when you’re sweating buckets, right? it’s not like i’m shivering or anything, but i get so warm and it's all downhill from there; really messes with my focus and everything.

i asked some friends but they kinda just shrugged it off, saying everyone gets stressed sometimes. but like, isn’t there a point where your body's just like, "hey, take a chill pill"? i mean, isn’t it kind of ridiculous that my body reacts this way over school stuff? my mom thinks i’m just being dramatic, and maybe i am, but hey, a fever’s a fever, isn’t it? i’ve tried to keep cool, literally, like staying in air-conditioned rooms and stuff, but it doesn't always help. hmu if anyone else feels like their anxiety’s got a thermostat of its own, because i'd love to know if this is just a “me” problem or if it’s something more common. does anyone else get those anxiety sweats, or am i just out here dealing with my body on extreme mode? anyway, if i figure it out, i’ll definitely share what’s up. peace out!

Ever wonder if anyone, and who would come looking, if you disappeared? I think no one would come looking for me.

I honestly hate myself so much. What I’m not changing I’m choosing right? And I hate even that too. I hate that I’m fat, my tooth is chipped. I’m not pretty. I’m unattractive in every aspect possible of a human. Even my personality is ugly. I haven’t dated in 7 years. No one found me good enough because I’m not good enough for anything. Even now nearing my 30s I’m still lost in life. It just seems like every day is a drag. Dragging along in life just hating everything and myself. I have no friends. I eat too much I drink too much. Everything just sucks. I’ve been getting a lot of rejection to the point where I feel like I’ll eventually just end up with someone below my league due to me being this hideous inside and out. I won’t be happy. Will I ever be happy? It seems I’ll end up alone at this rate. I try to tell myself there’s nothing wrong with that.. but will I be content with myself in the end of it all? Or will I crave for connections?

it’s been a quiet kind of question growing louder in my head: am I transgender? I’m 25, biologically female, and for a long time, I didn’t really question that. I did what was expected — grew my hair long, wore dresses when the occasion called for it, and played the part of a girl just fine. but over time, small thoughts started piling up. I’d avoid mirrors some days, or feel oddly disconnected from my reflection. I don’t hate my body — it’s more like... indifference? like I’m occupying something that isn’t mine but also not foreign enough to fully reject. I hear people use “she” and it doesn’t sting, but it also doesn’t fit. when someone once referred to me as “they” by mistake, I felt seen in a way I didn’t even realize I craved. how weird is that?! is that enough to question everything?

I’ve been reading and listening to people’s stories — memoirs like Detransition, Baby and YouTube creators like Ty Turner and Jamie Raines — and honestly, their feelings mirror mine more than any cis woman I know. it’s not about hating femininity; it’s about not feeling entirely rooted in it. sometimes I think maybe I’m nonbinary, other days I wonder if I’d feel more like myself with a flat chest and a lower voice. it’s not dysphoria that screams — it’s more like a whisper that never shuts up. I’ve even tried visualizing a future where I transition, and surprisingly, it doesn’t feel scary or wrong. it feels calm. like breathing easier. but then I second guess myself — what if I’m just making this up? what if I’m confusing admiration with identity? ugh, does everyone go through this kind of mental gymnastics??

I haven’t talked to anyone in my real life about it yet. it feels too abstract, like I need more “proof” or clarity before bringing others in. but I know questioning is valid. I know that not being sure doesn’t make my thoughts any less real. a quote I read recently stuck with me: “You don’t have to have dysphoria to be trans. You just have to know who you are.” and I guess I’m in the middle of figuring that out. maybe this is a journey without a destination — just learning, adjusting, exploring. and for now, that feels okay 🙂 if you’ve gone through this too, how did you know? did it hit you all at once, or did it sneak up like it did for me??