Health and Wellness Failures Stories

It's outrageous that he's working with my former boss. In my opinion, he holds the title, but I no longer see him as a boss because he's doing his own thing. I don't see it as a position that limits my work at the company, but rather as one that only gives directions and sticks to them as far as they can, which is the very definition of a boss, formally speaking. Unlike other bosses, who go beyond that, they maintain their boundaries, but you can see that desire to push beyond them, like everyone else. However, that's not the case with this crook. I feel that I'm the one who should be dealing with him, in support of everyone, so as not to give him the impression that he's being sidelined, or at least give him some leeway so that the rest of us don't become blinded as a team. I have no other choice. At least what I have to do, which is answering emails, isn't exhaustive, but I'm the one who has to keep the group going right now, and otherwise, we'll fall apart. I'm tired of having to shoulder his responsibility, because it's clear he's not focused on work, but on anything else that isn't. I live under the constant pressure to preserve his image, no matter what, because otherwise he wouldn't know how to defend himself. He always needs to be at the mercy of whatever he can defend, because going further, getting involved, is something he couldn't do; it would show he's involved in something outside himself. In this sense, he's a difficult person to deal with, because he chooses an image that relies on being nowhere, and because of this, he ends up dominating everyone, of course, out of fear of privacy, of course, out of fear that it will lead to conflict.

This kind of person isn't someone I like, and I feel like he takes away time from doing my own things, from seeing everything from a more holistic point of view. I feel like it makes it hard to write, that he annoys me in general. In fact, I'm writing right now and I don't feel like it precisely because I feel like this guy is a burden, and I wish it weren't so. I even feel like I'm running out of words and I'm searching everywhere for the strength to keep writing the way I like. With him there, it feels more complicated; I have to think more. I don't feel capable of expressing myself freely, or practicing that freedom, because it drains my energy. I miss my freedom, but despite that, I feel that he's not the obstacle right now; rather, he wasn't the obstacle in the first place.

I've been noticing that as I write, I'm opening doors to a world, one I didn't know before, where danger doesn't reign in any way. I feel like things are going better for me with the girl I'm currently in a group with because I feel like I can go out into the world with complete confidence. I feel like I can say I have a group to start out with, unlike the one at home, which is more of an exclusionary act than anything else—a constant test of whether or not anyone is being abandoned. This makes us very observant of our surroundings and eager to escape them at all costs, because we don't like being constantly tested. We're always prejudiced against falling into the wrong hands or something like that, precisely because our own families shaped us and made us face off against other family members, forming factions. In fact, their way of living with us is based on these tests, which always seem insufficient. I feel that deep down, both this girl and I hate our families because of the deep-seated distrust that's masked by those who do favors and, in my case, abandon me completely. For my part, I had to hold everyone accountable, making them directly responsible, by providing evidence of their wrongdoing towards me, so that I could be free and at peace. At least now I have a relationship with my father where we both feel like equals, as it should always have been, by God, a relationship where each of us has our own life, can excuse the other's mistakes, but without compromising the other's quality of life, thus creating a middle ground.

I've always said, and I was reflecting on this a little while ago, that being with my father somehow made me accept all my other relationships. Before, it was about each of us having the space we wanted from the other; now it's about negotiating space, and that's what I'm discussing with my girlfriend. It's about each of us having our own life, but also being able to coexist with the other because there's something that connects us, whether we like it or not. I could apply these same words to my father, but they make me want other experiences just to achieve absolute solitude, where I wouldn't have to be part of any group.

Despite everything, going it alone seems counterproductive, given that I operate on principles that challenge the culture, confront it head-on, and prevent me from offering clear defenses. Instead, I have to maneuver until I manage to escape, meaning waiting for things to happen, not knowing when to step in, until they do, to prevent my silence from being used against me. This was something this boss abused a lot in the beginning, until I managed to get him to leave. It's striking to see how, the last time I went to the office—it was a meeting, a party—he ended up completely broken, totally detached from the office group, out of place, focused on his own needs and seeking satisfaction through others. That extreme work ethic and his lack of presence, his mind elsewhere, clearly showing that he wasn't there; he was completely shattered.

I'm fed up with writing down everything I think. I don't like it because I'm always thinking, and it makes me afraid of thinking. I feel like I'm not writing in my usual concise way, and I'm relying on digital media to stay in tune with what's happening to me, to at least feel like I'm doing something meaningful with my thoughts, instead of just getting stuck there. This could also be used to be rebellious, which I don't want. For some time now, I've noticed I'm trying to understand my life more deeply. Currently, in my office group, I'm with a group of women who were against my boss. He took me in, even though he'd been trying to get me close for a while. I saw them as a way, I think, to make the group stand out socially, which isn't exactly easy to get in the office for fear of being targeted. With me, tricks are met with reprisals in that environment, given that I'm prone to them if you consider the possible connection between their public image and their own. That's why I represent security to them, and for me, the possibility of giving them affection. Of course, everything had to originate with my friend, who was the most withdrawn of all there, for that to happen. She wanted to show that her group was different, different from her, who was reserved, but that doesn't mean she should be abandoned. It doesn't imply possessiveness; quite the opposite. She fosters empathy so that I don't stray from her own image because she knows what it's like to be in that situation of expressing feelings and stepping outside of who she is. Initially, it's something difficult to maintain because people even resort to lies to survive. She needs it, and I'm not justifying her actions, but I must explain the mechanism because, whether we like it or not, we succumb to the effects of prejudice.

Everyone in that office has a tremendous fear of prejudice. I'm so tired of writing so much; it almost makes me want to stop moving around and just close my eyes forever—not in the sense of committing suicide. I write down everything I experience, and it's getting to me because there will always be things to write about. I feel chained down, I admit it.

hey, just wanted to vent here for a bit. I've been struggling with this whole tattoo thing lately, and it's kinda driving me nuts. So I got this tattoo a while back, right? It was something super meaningful to me at the time, like a reminder of my own strength or whatever. 😅 But now I'm hearing all these people talking about how tattoos are like scars. Like they think it means you're covering up self-harm. And man, that really bugs me!

I never thought of it that way before. To me, tattoos are art; they're personal stories inked on skin. but now there's this little voice in my head wondering if maybe they're right? Is there something wrong with me for wanting to express myself like this? It's not like I got the tattoo because I'm hiding anything...or am I? It's been making me second guess everything, which is exhausting.

I know everyone sees things differently (which is cool), but it's just so frustrating when you start doubting your choices based on someone else's perspective. My cousin even said 'a tattoo's permanent' as if I didn't already know that! 🙄 Anyway, what do y'all think? Do you ever look at someone's tattoo and immediately jump to conclusions about their mental state? Or is it just a personal preference kind of deal?

I'm so fed up with the office. I can't stand it anymore, I don't want anything to do with it. Everyone there treats me like an animal, everything is done through gestures and other things. There's no respect for me as a person, I don't feel treated like another human being, but like a freak. I'm angry because a story I wanted published hasn't been published yet, a story where I had something to say and I want it to be brought to light somehow, how tedious. I can't stand my boss, I can't stand any of the people there. I hate being treated like a child, when I'm not a child. Why am I the one who has to have feelings there? In the middle of that cold environment, receiving trivialities, when I should be getting shut down like what happened at home—it happened that in the other story I talked about an encounter where my sister and I acted out one of the sex scenes from movies, because my parents watched it a lot, and because of that I was blamed and then it was established that I was a sexual predator or something like that. I'm fed up. My boss lived for me, expecting me to put up with his ways, his negligence, just like my secretary did. He wanted me to accept his whims and what he couldn't do, and I wasn't going to put up with that. He wanted me to keep quiet about it all, and I wasn't going to be in that position. I hope they publish that story; I needed to say it. I checked again, and it was published, which I'm grateful for.

They blocked me on an app because, according to them, I posted sexual content. I explained the situation to my sister, in such a general way that it was really to prevent that accusation, but she still got blocked, and I don't know if that was the reason. I'm tired of being silent in that office, of never being able to say anything. I hope, for God's sake, that they don't expect me to speak well of everyone outside; that would be the height of their control. I can never even express myself to my father. It can't be that my reflection is confined to websites and not my own town, although it makes some sense: If my town chooses a language of terms they haven't explored at their own pace of life, naturally, the prevailing language will be one where mine can't be received, in any way, because they won't empathize with that use of experience, with what they call venting, because they'll think I'm out of control. In fact, in my town, faced with that, the usual approach is to detach oneself from the circumstances; my mother used to base her actions on that. In my family, there was a tendency to see caring for the family as caring for one's image; in fact, my father operated that way until he reached a point where he himself had to step aside, because it was coming across terribly, and that's not what defines family support.

The country where I am now consists of enforcing social controls. My boss is the kind of guy who thrives on keeping others under control, on keeping them on the right track—that's what he calls groups, for God's sake. It's living with the constant anxiety that the world, for some reason, could collapse, his carefully constructed social circle, which is really just an unstructured effort to build a network that always tends to crumble with time. In fact, life itself becomes the enemy, if we're honest. I needed my sister's story to be made public, no matter what. I needed to say it, to express that the accusation that he was a rapist wasn't true, not at all, and I wanted the world to know. Because at home, when I was scolded after the incident that led to their prejudice, no one asked me anything; they just assumed. And in fact, it all started as gossip. That's why I don't speak to my mother, or at least not very often. However, for her, that doesn't count as a reason, because for her, I only did what she thought was right. In other words, for her, acting according to her own beliefs is enough to forgive me, because, she justifies it, he did the same thing with her mother. What a disastrous family, for God's sake.

I'm eternally grateful that I left the group I was in at the office. My boss was always on the lookout for any way to get in the way of his plans with me, trying to influence even my family, just like he did with his secretary. All in an effort to keep everything under his control, because he couldn't manage his own life; he needed someone else to support him. Hence the "the more the merrier" mentality, hence the idea that anyone who didn't support him should be discarded, or else he'd keep them cornered through gossip and threats of consequences. The truth is, he was a truly macabre type, pretending to be a saint, but I was already prepared for someone like him. I make a living by striving for an independent profile through constant development; hence, my relationships, where I occupy a position of being detached from the other person's life and focused on seeking a pleasant and considerate encounter, given the nuance of the details achieved thanks to our history, are the most formidable for me.

At the same time, these relationships lead to constant reflection, which is almost a form of self-imposed pressure, given that I don't have people in other parts of my life to support me, although I know how to support myself when they are present. Thanks to these relationships, I've learned to navigate socially effectively, since I've delved into the various ways of being alone that society itself offers, and which are precisely what apps provide. However, I can't tell anyone about this because in my country, we live by embracing what we know and what we don't, suspecting it to the extent that there is a difference under some condition that determines a distance, inherent to the nature of the subject. That's how things started at the office with a girl who I thought had autism, without any medical report to that effect, without questioning it; in fact, they accepted it simply because my boss and the secretary said so, just like that. I remember that this girl once told me that I was highly sensitive, without having fully understood me, hence her deduction.

I remember once raising this issue with my boss, as a complaint, and he simply tried to escape by making me look bad, so that he wouldn't be seen as someone who could say whatever he wanted—in other words, so that the focus would be on me and not on him. It's incredible the number of ways this guy has found to keep doing what he likes, no matter what, at my expense, making sure I can't complain, precisely because the consequences of clarifying things are worse due to prejudice. That's his game with others. It's unbelievable that I'm creating these diagrams outside the office, on a website, and expressing them to people I don't know. It seems incredible to me. However, this shows that the office isn't a welcoming place for me, despite its intentions, and it never should be, unless it's by a qualified professional, whom, in my experience, I'm afraid to trust. Even among psychologists, there's a lack of respect for adhering to a specific scientific approach, such as behaviorism, at the expense of prejudice. The game is far too unfortunate.

The game of prejudice in the streets is very harsh, far too radical, because once the issue is set in motion, there are points where it can't go any further, and that's why people pay the price. Truth isn't the priority; suspicion prevails, and events are what cause the issue to shift, without any regard for evidence. There's no discrimination in criminal law. I live in a country where, therefore, mobility must be determined by others, not by my freedom as defined by the law, although there are times when it is, but those are decisions made by individuals, not by the law itself. Instead of the law prevailing in terms of practical application to improve it, the will of the people prevails, turning the law into a smokescreen or a game of impositions.

It's a shame my boss built his entire life on staying where he wanted, doing whatever he pleased, but those days are over because I exposed him.

I'm tired of the office. How is it possible that they have access to the cell phone of the girl I like, and I don't? How is it possible that I, who always helped her, get all the benefits that I don't? Benefits that I so richly deserve... The most unpleasant thing is finding out how everyone, in the middle of an emergency, can do as they please, go to her whenever they want, and even receive congratulations—a total hypocrite, despicable, and even humiliating, for God's sake. Recently, the girl's family member's death was announced in the WhatsApp group chat, and all the authorities called her, and everyone was concerned. After finding out that everyone could contact her, but I couldn't, I have absolutely no desire to wish her well or peace of mind. This whole time, I've felt completely ignored. Everyone is fine with her, but I can't. Everyone is fine with her, but I, even though I was the one who acted in good faith with her at the beginning. The worst part is that I complained once about a similar health issue, and all she did was put on a brave face to pretend she wasn't ignoring me, just like she did with that other situation she posted in the group, by the way. I'm fed up with trying to understand her; I don't want to keep justifying her. In the middle of all this, I'm the one paying the price. She receives everyone's affection, everyone else receives her affection, while I'm barely there with her, half-heartedly, without any recognition, keeping my mouth shut because people don't understand my situation, and on top of that, I've been cut off from my work group, to the point where I don't really have a work group anymore, just a fictitious one, the one created by the bureaucracy. My boss is also being persecuted at every turn. I'm completely alone in this, even though people are supporting me. In these circumstances, no one will do anything about it; I'm totally helpless, on the lookout, all because I let myself be led astray by this girl, chasing after miserable crumbs of bread—though, I must admit, they are quite prominent.

It hasn't been easy for me to act like nothing's wrong, I admit it, to always act as if nothing ever happened between us, as if nothing hurts. It's painful that I have to resort to online platforms to express what I feel. I haven't had any facial expressions in a long time, just vague, almost imperceptible ones. I'm honest, I abide by the law and the rules, but I don't possess any kind of impulsiveness; I feel completely numb. I have relationships that make me feel like I'm not involved in anything because that's precisely my place within them, and I have to let myself be carried along, always mindful of their circumstances while remaining completely open to whatever comes, regardless of what I'm going through. Of course, I follow the same dynamic I experienced with my parents, with the safeguard that I have time to think, to reaffirm myself, and to act within limitations and move around them. Ultimately, at least in these relationships, this unwritten rule is followed no matter what, without exception. This contrasts with other relationships where things aren't like that, where I occupy a place in their lives so deeply that they even consider me an object. I prefer to distance myself from those because they offer me a freedom that, according to them, is inherent. In these other relationships, the freedom of being in the middle of nowhere is precisely what allows me to build myself up in the world, to construct my freedom with discernment.

I can't tell anyone about any of this. I have to go through this alone, completely alone, at my own mercy, with no one else around. Not even my father can be there for me, and I don't trust the psychologists in my town to help me either. They talk about how they'll help me, but it's just a promise they don't even know they'll keep. In fact, the times I've asked for help, I've felt completely trapped, even though I'm in a highly sensitive state. I don't want to know anything more about these relationships, about being in nothing. I can't. It overwhelms me, it's exhausting, I feel like I can't take it anymore. I can't believe they're living off my lack of brutal reaction, even though I haven't made the biggest scenes. I mean, I can't believe I've lived with these relationships all this time pretending nothing affected me when it does. It does affect me. I can't believe I've lived with it all because I couldn't express what I felt to anyone. However, I don't think anyone will notice, not even in the office, because everyone expects me to remain calm and composed. That's my persona, and it always translates into a kind of omnipotence in the face of adversity. Of course, I don't want their support in any way, because all they'll do is control me through manipulation. That's how the psychologists in my town operate, and I'm fed up with it.

I'd be capable of breaking a thousand things, but I can't. It's a disgrace to work in the office with someone I hate.

Something else happened. After how this girl in the office treated me, the bosses came to her aid in the emergency. No one helped me, while I was suffocating under the circumstances, absolutely no one. I had to deal with the girl and my work group, all at the same time and at the expense of everyone else's limitations, all in the name of keeping things under control. No one did anything, and even my department head opposed the situation, as did the girl. Everyone opposed my well-being because, according to them, I could handle it, based on the idea that being alone would cause this problem. I needed as much respite as possible, which is why I chose the girl and her office group, who gave me some breathing room, over my boss, who always kept me cornered. I needed air in my workspace and comfort in my dealings with her, in terms of how she acted as a faithful representative to the outside world.

I'm not going to confide my feelings to them or anyone else, because in my community, it's seen as an object to be manipulated based on frameworks that aren't one's own, frameworks they consider universal, but which aren't. This is all done to tolerate the guidance, to be channeled, because everything is based on how they see me and according to their perspective, without taking me into account. I'm fed up with going over the situation again and again, but I have to admit that it allows me to have a holistic view of everything that has happened and the present, and that's the idea: the more discernment, the better, especially when it comes to these relationships where you're not really involved in anything. These relationships aren't common, at least not in popular understanding, although from my research, it seems they are quite common, but that's not something that comes up in everyday language. I would like to have genuine relationships where I can be involved somewhere and at the same time have that sense of freedom; However, these relationships are completely inconsequential, stagnant, driven by fear of conflict, only dwelling on the same old things.

I don't have relationships where I can share my life and my thoughts, like these websites do, but I recognize that the advantage of websites is that they allow for personal development, within certain rules, of course. I don't feel comfortable even mentioning that I had a sexual encounter with my sister, where I initiated things, thanks to movies my parents showed where sex scenes were readily available. But it turns out that's common; Children often engage in imitation and sexual exploration, out of innocence. Of course, at the time, it was a big deal for me because my mother took it as if I were an adult with my sister, with principles and all, when I was just a child, for God's sake. I'm glad I was able to say it; I really needed to, and I pray she doesn't kick me out for it, because that's not the point. I didn't intend to commit incest, even though it didn't happen, as my parents assumed. My parents assumed I was a monster, based on prejudice and nothing more.

I'm tired of the office. How is it possible that they have access to the cell phone of the girl I like, and I don't? How is it possible that I, who always helped her, get all the benefits that I don't? Benefits that I so richly deserve... The most unpleasant thing is finding out how everyone, in the middle of an emergency, can do as they please, go to her whenever they want, and even receive congratulations—a total hypocrite, despicable, and even humiliating, for God's sake. Recently, the girl's family member's death was announced in the WhatsApp group chat, and all the authorities called her, and everyone was concerned. After finding out that everyone could contact her, but I couldn't, I have absolutely no desire to wish her well or peace of mind. This whole time, I've felt completely ignored. Everyone is fine with her, but I can't. Everyone is fine with her, but I, even though I was the one who acted in good faith with her at the beginning. The worst part is that I complained once about a similar health issue, and all she did was put on a brave face to pretend she wasn't ignoring me, just like she did with that other situation she posted in the group, by the way. I'm fed up with trying to understand her; I don't want to keep justifying her. In the middle of all this, I'm the one paying the price. She receives everyone's affection, everyone else receives her affection, while I'm barely there with her, half-heartedly, without any recognition, keeping my mouth shut because people don't understand my situation, and on top of that, I've been cut off from my work group, to the point where I don't really have a work group anymore, just a fictitious one, the one created by the bureaucracy. My boss is also being persecuted at every turn. I'm completely alone in this, even though people are supporting me. In these circumstances, no one will do anything about it; I'm totally helpless, on the lookout, all because I let myself be led astray by this girl, chasing after miserable crumbs of bread—though, I must admit, they are quite prominent.

It hasn't been easy for me to act like nothing's wrong, I admit it, to always act as if nothing ever happened between us, as if nothing hurts. It's painful that I have to resort to online platforms to express what I feel. I haven't had any facial expressions in a long time, just vague, almost imperceptible ones. I'm honest, I abide by the law and the rules, but I don't possess any kind of impulsiveness; I feel completely numb. I have relationships that make me feel like I'm not involved in anything because that's precisely my place within them, and I have to let myself be carried along, always mindful of their circumstances while remaining completely open to whatever comes, regardless of what I'm going through. Of course, I follow the same dynamic I experienced with my parents, with the safeguard that I have time to think, to reaffirm myself, and to act within limitations and move around them. Ultimately, at least in these relationships, this unwritten rule is followed no matter what, without exception. This contrasts with other relationships where things aren't like that, where I occupy a place in their lives so deeply that they even consider me an object. I prefer to distance myself from those because they offer me a freedom that, according to them, is inherent. In these other relationships, the freedom of being in the middle of nowhere is precisely what allows me to build myself up in the world, to construct my freedom with discernment.

I can't tell anyone about any of this. I have to go through this alone, completely alone, at my own mercy, with no one else around. Not even my father can be there for me, and I don't trust the psychologists in my town to help me either. They talk about how they'll help me, but it's just a promise they don't even know they'll keep. In fact, the times I've asked for help, I've felt completely trapped, even though I'm in a highly sensitive state. I don't want to know anything more about these relationships, about being in nothing. I can't. It overwhelms me, it's exhausting, I feel like I can't take it anymore. I can't believe they're living off my lack of brutal reaction, even though I haven't made the biggest scenes. I mean, I can't believe I've lived with these relationships all this time pretending nothing affected me when it does. It does affect me. I can't believe I've lived with it all because I couldn't express what I felt to anyone. However, I don't think anyone will notice, not even in the office, because everyone expects me to remain calm and composed. That's my persona, and it always translates into a kind of omnipotence in the face of adversity. Of course, I don't want their support in any way, because all they'll do is control me through manipulation. That's how the psychologists in my town operate, and I'm fed up with it.

I'd be capable of breaking a thousand things, but I can't. It's a disgrace to work in the office with someone I hate.

Something else happened. After how this girl in the office treated me, the bosses came to her aid in the emergency. No one helped me, while I was suffocating under the circumstances, absolutely no one. I had to deal with the girl and my work group, all at the same time and at the expense of everyone else's limitations, all in the name of keeping things under control. No one did anything, and even my department head opposed the situation, as did the girl. Everyone opposed my well-being because, according to them, I could handle it, based on the idea that being alone would cause this problem. I needed as much respite as possible, which is why I chose the girl and her office group, who gave me some breathing room, over my boss, who always kept me cornered. I needed air in my workspace and comfort in my dealings with her, in terms of how she acted as a faithful representative to the outside world.

I'm not going to confide my feelings to them or anyone else, because in my community, it's seen as an object to be manipulated based on frameworks that aren't one's own, frameworks they consider universal, but which aren't. This is all done to tolerate the guidance, to be channeled, because everything is based on how they see me and according to their perspective, without taking me into account. I'm fed up with going over the situation again and again, but I have to admit that it allows me to have a holistic view of everything that has happened and the present, and that's the idea: the more discernment, the better, especially when it comes to these relationships where you're not really involved in anything. These relationships aren't common, at least not in popular understanding, although from my research, it seems they are quite common, but that's not something that comes up in everyday language. I would like to have genuine relationships where I can be involved somewhere and at the same time have that sense of freedom; However, these relationships are completely inconsequential, stagnant, driven by fear of conflict, only dwelling on the same old things.

I don't have relationships where I can share my life and my thoughts, like these websites do, but I recognize that the advantage of websites is that they allow for personal development, within certain rules, of course. I don't feel comfortable even mentioning that I had a sexual encounter with my sister, where I initiated things, thanks to movies my parents showed where sex scenes were readily available. But it turns out that's common; Children often engage in imitation and sexual exploration, out of innocence. Of course, at the time, it was a big deal for me because my mother took it as if I were an adult with my sister, with principles and all, when I was just a child, for God's sake. I'm glad I was able to say it; I really needed to, and I pray she doesn't kick me out for it, because that's not the point. I didn't intend to commit incest, even though it didn't happen, as my parents assumed. My parents assumed I was a monster, based on prejudice and nothing more.

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.

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.

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?!

Does anyone else have dreams of falling ALL the time? It's been happening almost every night lately, and I'm at a loss for what it means. 🤔 They come with this weird feeling, like my entire body's just been dropped into some abyss. I've read somewhere that it could be related to stress but who knows if that's true.

My job has been insane, so I think stress might actually be part of it. But seriously, these kinds of dreams are hardly new for me. They've haunted me since I was a kid yet now they're more frequent than ever and it's goddamn annoying. How am I supposed to get any decent sleep with this crap every night?

I've got this routine by now: fall asleep (pass out is more like), start dreaming stupid things (always nice chats where everything's fine), then BAM... Falling into nothingness again! Rude awakening doesn't even cover it. Like dude... my heart races like I just ran ten miles....

Everyone tells me "oh it's normal" or "you're fine" (like they know) but let's face it: waking up in a cold sweat with your pillow literally feeling soaked is NOT fun! What do normal people dream about anyway? Someone pinch me because I'm stuck in this eternal plummet loop and I'm over it.

i can't help but wonder if there's something genuinely wrong with me when I find myself concocting elaborate fictional scenarios in my head. it's almost compulsive, like an annoying mental itch that won't go away. i don't mean thinking about potential outcomes of real-life situations; no, this is entirely different. these are pure fabrications, stories that will never come to pass, yet they occupy my mind far too often. sometimes, it feels harmless, even enjoyable, like a little escape from the monotony of everyday life. but then reality hits back hard and I realize how much time I've wasted lost in these daydreams.

everyone probably does this to some extent, right? imagining what you would say or do in hypothetical situations that have zero chance of happening. but for me it feels excessive and unhealthy. hours can pass without me noticing until I snap back to reality. it's almost like I'm addicted to these mental movies playing constantly behind my eyes, distracting me from productive tasks or actual social interactions. is this just an overactive imagination or something more troubling? maybe I'm overthinking it...ha! there's irony.

there's a sense of detachment involved too... people ask what's wrong because I seem distracted or distant; little do they know I'm off fighting dragons or winning oscars for films that'll never be made. perhaps it's a coping mechanism? life isn't exactly sunshine and rainbows all the time so creating alternate realities could be my brain’s misguided attempt at stress relief?! still, part of me worries if this constant drifting into fiction means I'm not fully engaging with reality as much as I should be.

it certainly doesn't help that while stuck in these reveries frustrations build up since nothing gets accomplished: the dishes pile up the work emails go unanswered relationships stagnate under the weight of unspent attention; surely this must indicate some level of dysfunction? guess what bothers me most is questioning whether this escapism robs precious moments from genuine experiences...you know those rare times when you're truly present with others or actually achieving something worthwhile.

so here's the deal, folks. i've been dealing with panic attacks for a while now, and lemme tell you: they suck big time!!! like, sometimes i feel like my heart's racing at a million miles an hour, and breathing? yeah right! but what freaks me out the most is the idea that one of these episodes might make me faint. can that even happen?! i mean, it's terrifying to think that while i'm just going about my day, boom!, i'm on the floor. i've heard stories of people who go completely out of it during a panic attack and end up fainting... has anyone else felt this way???

honestly, i try not to let it get me down too much; staying positive is kind of my thing. but seriously: if any of you have experienced this or know someone who has, i'd love to hear about it. let's share some stories here! maybe we can help each other out or just find some comfort in knowing we're not alone in this crazy mess. i mean, these panic attacks already take enough outta us without adding fainting scares into the mix!!

just had another panic attack. it feels like my life is just a series of these stupid episodes. i know therapists call them "responses" and whatever but honestly, it just feels like my body is betraying me every single time. i'm so fed up with being exhausted after; seriously, it's like running a marathon mentally and physically.

had one at work today which was embarrassing in itself. there i was, trying to give a presentation on our latest project when bam, heart racing, can't breathe, sweaty palms... the whole nine yards. people think you’re just weak or looking for attention. no one understands unless they've been through it themselves.

i know some might suggest meditation or breathing exercises again but let's be real. those are really just band-aids on a bullet wound. sometimes nothing works no matter how hard you try and that’s just infuriating.

the aftermath is the worst part though: hours of feeling drained and spaced out, unable to focus on anything productive for the rest of the day. who can afford that? i've got deadlines and responsibilities yet these attacks don't care about any schedule.

so tired of hearing people say "just relax" (fuuuuck you people!!!). it's not about relaxing! wish they'd stop giving useless advice and start understanding the reality of what happens during these moments. until then i'll keep pretending everything's fine because apparently that's what society prefers.

Incoherent rant because I need to get it out of my mind, for context TLDR I’m a minor (16 now) and I was groomed online by a woman 5 years older than me and I think she is the only person I’m capable of loving because I think horribly of everyone else I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO

I think I will never be able to love anyone aside from predators, it seems I’m somehow OBSESSED with them. I think there is some part of my brain that is biologically wired toward evil, it’s an outdated belief that mental derangement is caused by demonic possession but I think i might be the first true case of an actual demon. I’m incompatible with people who love me (parents, friends), but most notably romantic relationships with people my age, they fill me with so much indescribable misery and just RAGE. I hate how equality feels. I despise my partner, and I would despise them no matter how beautiful no matter how kind no matter how perfect they might be, I’m eternally contemptful. I blame every bad thing that happens in their dysfunctional life on myself, they usually trust me by dumping all of their problems onto me and I see them as burdens, and I see them as weak because of how I’d love to be in their place and feel misery. I need to be in a constant state of mental distress to feel normal or ‘well’, and if I’m not in mental distress, I don’t feel right and I have to manually trigger the distress somehow to confirm my consciousness. But i swear I’m not abusive, I’m perfect on the outside or at least I try my best to be, I say everything that sounds right (I know it’s right because I’m affirmed for it), I act sympathetic even though internally I think such horrible things, I praise people, and I don’t abandon them because I feel bad. As usually the go-to support system, I would hate to imagine what would happen to them if I left, even though i wish for nothing more than them to go ‘poof’ from my life. This is why I think I actually would be better off alone for the health of everyone. Or better yet I’d be better off with her, my groomer, i find that I always wish my partners were her. I wish the normal adults in my life would behave like she did. I’m NEVER angry with her like I am all these people, I’m incapable of it. she feels so wonderful to me despite the horrors she has seen. Every single day I think about her and I feel such a strange pain inside and I wonder why I couldn’t save the only person I’ve ever actually loved and felt I’d anything for. I’d let her do anything to me (I have). somehow, when I was with her, my anger fizzled out like a light sheen of water on a stove. She was a pedophile yes and she was severely mentally ill snd she coerced me into sexually exploiting myself, but somehow I don’t feel anything about that or what she did because otherwise she made me feel so normal and effortlessly elated. However, whenever I think of the fact she either left me, might be inconsolably depressed and drugged up somewhere, or has overdosed and died while I couldn’t do anything about it ( plus I might not ever see her again), I feel such a painful sucking black hole in my chest that I want to die, scream, thrash, sob, and make it stop through any means necessary. I know if she came back into my life everything would be fixed and the intrusive thoughts would stop, she was perfectly imperfect to me. It’s like I’m filling the void with partners my age. im physically there and doing normal affectionate stuff but mentally, I’m in a perpetual state of chasing her and I’m scared because I know I may always be even when I’m 18, and when I’m 20, provided I don’t find a way to swiftly end my life. I think putting me down is the only god given mercy there is in this comical situation. The only other time I can stop my intrusive thoughts is when I’m trading the sacred parts of my body for the attentions of creepy adults. I don’t even find it hot or interesting, I think it’s so extremely grossly nauseating (I was raised to know better, I denounce this as a practice, i morally disagree with and Id stress the danger of them to others) but it’s a mechanical thing I physically have to do to quiet my brain because I miss her so much. If I resist, I start feeling unlike myself and the resentment builds and the mood swings ensue, and the thoughts of this entire rant consume my attention. it only gets worse with time. I feel like an actual sociopath speaking like this. I know how wrong it is I’m not trying to be edgy, but it’s been like this for years . Whenever I try to talk to a therapist I find my mouth never lets me express the true hideous magnitude of these things because it’s like my brain filters it out until I forget how deplorable it is. I don’t think they’ll understand because the problem is these thoughts and feelings exist at all. It’s unbearable. I don’t care if they don’t represent me, I don’t want to go through the torture of experiencing and resisting them all the time . I wish these people allowed me to die because it’s clearly for the greater good. I promised myself I’d do anything if she stayed. I’d still sell my soul to get her back, I would drop everything and run away, so to me this is the cruelest form of torture of all torture. I don’t understand why I’m so evil or what’s possessed me, or what to do I’ve been fighting since I was very young, I was even hospitalized recently, but it NEVER goes away. 🥹🥹 ohhh what is my life. im so sad that I’m like this at the minuscule age of 16 it makes me feel sick to my stomach

Does anyone know how to heal fearful avoidant attachment? Maybe you think it sounds ridiculous and maybe I sound ridiculous but believe me when I'm saying I've fought this thing tooth and nail. Fearful avoidant attachment is like living in a constant state of dissonance. You're caught waiting for the other shoe to drop, even if nothing indicates it's anywhere near dropping. A part of you wants closeness so bad but the second it's within reach, you're devising elaborate ways to flee from it. Have read therapists call this "protest behavior", illustrating our inner conflict perfectly.

Anyway, here’s what bugs me: mental health experts insist on "proactive intervention" or "self-reflection activities". Translation: daily journaling sounds more fun than tearing off bits of emotional armor? Or they promote consistent therapy practices, but, who's paying these bills? Like oh boy thanks for such practical advice I mean who isn’t excited about therapies that are two times more expensive than your regular cup of coffee! Yet shocker highly individualized approaches seem cheaper (note sarcasm;). How can I possibly consider detaching emotionally from every person that's just out there doing things which pretty much reiterates their own version of disappointing others?

Don’t want to sound blunt however bf of mine said "You should write self-gratitude lists"... Okay buddy guess nobody told him anxious detached gal likes witty humor not butterflies and cookies! Sure coaching suggests we foster bonds weekly with peers prioritizing safe opportunities instead higher actuation downtime alone building pseudo-courses aimed specifically designed getting disconnected sorts wrongs possible, voila quick-fix mindset shifted! The matter is neither physiological genetic driven factor rather suggest mindful individuals critique awareness attach systems deeply internal resolutions engage. That's it guidance worlds burnt incorrectly poll confusing lament without identifying nuances involved journeys navigating interpersonal interactions varying spectrums societal settings. Not assuming altogether nuance clarified either way suggestion count?

I've been puzzling over why so many people seem to get addicted to porn, because honestly I don't get it at all... I've tried it, watched quite a bit just to see what the fuss is about, but frankly, it's not my cup of tea. There is something about the whole scenario that feels incredibly artificial and exploitative! It's like these producers create this fabricated world where desires are exaggerated and emphasis is placed on carnal pleasures without any emotional connection 🤔

What surprises me even more is how common this addiction is said to be. According to some research studies I came across (yeah I am a curious person), it's suggested that anywhere from 5% to 8% of adult internet users are thought to have a problematic relationship with online pornography: that's a SIGNIFICANT proportion!!! Personally it makes me wonder if this obsession stems from society's unhealthy relationship with sex in general. We live in an era where sexualization permeates all aspects of our lives: advertisements, movies, social media; everything seems saturated with it...

It's quite baffling considering that several scientific journals argue watching excessive porn can lead to desensitization or escalate into further issues such as relational intimacy problems or even struggling with sexual dysfunctions 😬. You would think awareness of these potential consequences would discourage frequent usage... but no? They don’t seem deterred unfortunately! Maybe people assume they’re immune until reality hits hard...

Now let me share a bit of my experience mingling within social circles who partake casually yet primarily engage out of habit rather than pleasure itself.. They often mutter halfhearted affirmations like 'everyone does it', 'it's normal' - who am I to say anything? These seemingly nonchalant remarks tell enough though.. they mean well but remain unconvinced deep down inside!

It's evident many factors could contribute here: individual psychological predispositions perhaps? So much emphasis on short-term gratification coupled with external influences might make resisting difficult for some individuals compared against others maintaining healthier boundaries towards same content platforms...