Parenting And Education Stories

I don't know if I am being too dramatic about it or not, but today for the first time my mom is not at home and its just me and my father. She has gone to meet her cousins for a few days. I don't know but there is a strange silence in the entire house. I was mostly alone at home throughout the day and its hitting me so hard that its her presence that makes this house, home. And now when she's not here, it feels like my home is missing. I don't know if its because my periods are due or I am actually sad, but its not even 24 hours and I have already cried multiple times. I wasn't living at home for the past 6 years because of college so I didn't really realise her absence much but I don't know I am feeling very guilty about not spending enough time with her when she's at home. She's busy with her work and I am mostly at my own. I really regret not spending much time with her. And who knows how much time do I have left with her. I'm just overthinking about it but life is so unpredictable.

I'm 16 and my mom has been telling me to kill myself. I might as well consider it. There is no point in anything I really want things to end.

But despite every curse from this fuckass universe,

I want to know how it feels like to grow up and live

I want to know it feels like to NOT feel like this

I still want to watch new seasons of my favourite shows

I still want to taste flavours which Ive never tried

I still want to read many books

And i still want to watch my little siblings grow

If i die now,

I will be selfish enough to not consider the well being of my siblings

Maybe I'll be more of a burden, only dead

Maybe i will be cursed till the depths of hell for all the money i made them waste on me.

No matter what, i just know that i never wanted any of this

I just wish my parents were more than the title itself

I am an Indian. I know to keep it anonymous but revealing my nationality brings me no harm.

A day ago, I was writing my in-progress novel. It was nearing 11 PM. I went to get my night dress from the room in which I sleep (it's not mine, I don't exactly have my own room in this house, but that's no worry), and went to the washroom to change. My brother was watching TV. I told him to turn it off by the time I return. He always dismisses everything I say, because I'm the useless sort in the house. So of course he dismissed this.

I returned from the bathroom and pushed against the door to the room in which my brother was, and it didn't open. I went to the balcony to try the other spare entrance, but that door was locked too. My uncle and grandmother were asleep. They heard me bang the door, and my uncle appeared out of his room. I told him what was wrong and he tried several bizarre methods of unlocking a door, calling out my brother's name, turning the door handle over and over.

Truth was that my brother had fallen asleep while watching TV. It was late night, wasn't it? The fucker locked the door from the inside for a reason even I don't know. He was in a deep slumber, that my uncle's or my voice didn't reach him loudly enough to wake him.

My grandmother can't walk without her cane. She has fat legs, and lung problems, so she kept saying how him (brother) locking the door rattled her and how her body was shaking. I tried to calm her down.

Mother and father had gone to dinner, so grandmother phoned them to return home ASAP, because father keeps a bunch of keys with him, one of which would fit the door's lock and unlock it. We just had to wait. I waited patiently and calmly through the tension, because panic would have been fuel to the fire.

Even amidst all this, grandmother and uncle kept saying how I was the one who went to the washroom, I was the one who left him alone, and henceforth I'm the irresponsible one. I tried to tell them I am no prophet, I wouldn't have in any case known that the idiot would lock the door while I'm away, much less fall asleep. It wasn't my fault, no matter how one saw it.

Father returned with mother in a few more moments, grabbed the keys and unlocked the room's door. Brother lay sleeping. I slapped him awake (literally) and then uncle and mother entered the room. Uncle didn't say much to him, since he is a little better than controlling his anger than the other two.

Father hit him and slapped him and kept asking him to why he locked the damn door, and mother stopped him by saying that he was still groggy and shit and hugged him. Father kept shouting. All was going well for me until...

Petty grandmother mentioned how I went to the washroom and left the little fucker alone for 15 MINUTES. Hear that? 15 MINUTES. Not even 20. I sometimes sing or think out some plots for my books in the bathroom, so I sometimes lose track of time, but that night I was more than a 100% certain I was gone for only and only 15 minutes.

I had tried all the ways and techniques I could to convince the old woman otherwise but noooo, I'm the one at fault. Always.

I shouted in frustration, that IT WASN'T ME. And guess what? Father got mad. Grabbed me. Slapped me once. Shouted in my ears. Gripped me by the arm and told me not to "look that way at him" because I wasn't meeting his eyes. My mother just stood there. My uncle told him to not hurt me. So he just yelled. Grandmother said nothing.

And then the next day my mother, the woman I despise for so many reasons, comes to "talk" with me (translation: scold and control me). I have not spoken to father since that night, it's been only one day. I wanted him to apologize. He had no reason to hit me. Why can't adults just hit their heads somewhere and understand that they are NOT the wise owls they think they are, that they glorify themselves as?

The woman told me that it was wrong of me to treat father that way, and because the two humans gave birth to me, they "have every right to hit me". NO YOU FUCKING DON'T. I AM NOT YOUR PROPERTY. Child or not, I am my own person who believes that hitting does nothing but give a child trauma for life, make them fear adults, FEAR THE MERE SENSE OF TOUCH, feel like they are at the adult's mercy, or worse, teach them hitting = making the child realize what's right.

That's where the title comes in. Ego and self-respect. Often....Most of the time,... okay nevermind, always, these two words are confused and used synonymously in this blasted Indian parenting universe. ..Fuck I hate this country (ps: I am not patriotic at all).

Mother told me to "lower my ego", as she put it. What I have isn't ego. I simply respect myself enough to know that I don't stand with the wrong. I don't care who does it. Wrong stays wrong. And I feel sorry for those who have no idea of self-respect. I feel sorry for their self-esteem.

Mother told me that children must apologize, that adults never do so because.... they're adults. Okay. I get that they are older than me. They have been on this planet longer than I have. They have seen things I haven't. BUT SIMILARLY, I have seen things they haven't. We're equal. We're also equal on the fact that at the end, we're all humans with a load of emotions.

Mother justified father hitting me because he was terrified for my brother and did it in a fit of rage. So if I yell in a fit of rage, that is not justified? Then you will hit me for raising my voice? He's lucky I'm not 18 yet, and that I don't have any malicious intent. Hitting a woman is assault, ain't it?

Mother told me that father works and wonders day and night for me and my education... But have they ever thought for my inner well-being? NO. BECAUSE THAT IS JUST A HALLUCINATION. IT'S NOT EVEN THERE. I get to hear that money buys no happiness, and no they contradict their own statement, implying that technically, money DOES buy happiness.

I'm not happy. I'm depressed, angry, broken, neglected, sad, hurt and hopeless. And if I tell them this, I'll get hit by the "you're only 17" reply. Because apparently they are stuck in their own angsty life to help me with mine.

They tell me I'm rude. Well, sent me to a fucking therapist then! I want help but can't they get the hint that I'm not able to express it to them because they are all daft shitheads? Why can't I express? They've given me no reason to bestow them with my trust. I trust my friends more. For me, water is thicker than blood. I don't even know who wrote the stupid saying anyways.

Mother told me to make him a sorry card and buy him a chocolate. Okay, I'll do it. Not because I want to, but because I'm genuinely tired of this woman's idiocy. First she neglects me and constantly fawns over brother ("he's younger than you) and now she tries to give me lessons in lowering my "ego"? I have ego, I won't deny. But this, this isn't ego. It's a strong sense of respect for my own being. Every time I try to cultivate it, they kill it in one way or another.

Please treat your children better. They don't deserve this. They are not your puppets. Not your property. They are yours to take care of, so stop doing things that make them grow distant.

It's amazing to know that a 17-yo has a better sense of parenting than two parents combined.

Losing my husband unexpectedly was a heart-breaking experience that left me grappling with unbearable sorrow and navigating an uncertain future. Honestly, there were moments when I felt completely lost and alone, questioning how I could possibly move forward without him by my side. Amidst the overwhelming grief, my mum became an incredible pillar of strength for me. She offered a comforting presence during my darkest moments and helped me find a way out of the grief abyss. I had to ask myself, where would I be without her unwavering support and kind words during these trying times???

My mum's wisdom and compassion were nothing short of lifesavers. Every morning she called, ensuring I knew she was there and that I wasn't facing this new reality alone. An unplanned bonus to her supportive presence was her uncanny knack for knowing when I just needed someone to listen, without uttering a single word in return. We joked quite a bit, which was a much-needed breather from the suffocating heaviness of grief. She had the extraordinary ability to bring back a little sunshine into my life. Can you imagine what a gift that is?? Her thoughtful hugs and cups of tea were small gestures that went a long way to settling my scattered mind. Mum wasn’t afraid to take the reins and help me with daily tasks that suddenly felt monumental. 💪 Household chores, meal preps, even a few Netflix nights that started to fill up the void ever-so-slightly. It’s funny how parents continue to surprise us even when we’re adults, isn't it?? Her invaluable guidance taught me to honor my emotions, yet remain hopeful about the future and acknowledge that it’s okay to ask for help. My healing journey would be incomplete without recognizing her selfless love and encouragement that equipped me with the strength to move forward each day. 🧡

Growing up, I was used to being praised by my relatives. My aunts and uncles, and most importantly, my mother and father. I was the younger sibling, have an older and only sister, I was praised because I achieved far more greater things than my sibling had, as they've said really. I grew up having those expectations normalised towards me because I never had trouble keeping up with them. I also won those competitions because my mom wants me to and has me practice hard. With honours, first placer in poster making, the class and even the schools representative when competing with other schools in the district, once in the division level..

I was never the smart kid though, just enough, by fourth grade I entered every single poster and any art related contests and won the gold medal most of the time. I never connected it to the fact that those added points must've been what pulled my grades high.

My older sibling always had lesser grades than me, always berated and compared to my higher grades. I always preened on the compliments yet maybe I should’ve felt bad instead that my sibling was being judged and ridiculed for barely passing. I didn't know then what it felt like.

I never thought I’d experience those things, yet I did. Entering highschool, I never placed high expectations on myself. Why would I when big grades always came naturally to me even without the tiring studying back at elementary?

Yet now, lesson after lesson I fail to comprehend them, I barely understood the materials and repeatedly got less than good scores in activities and tests. I excel in project making yet pretty designs will never get me far. Now I barely hang on to my honour streak.

Then that day came.

Our advisor posted the list of who made it to the honours list in our class gc. And for the first time I didn’t see my name. At most half of us didn't make it to the honour list so I rationalized that Im not an odd one out. I didn’t feel much, I didn’t let myself feel much, not while I was in school in front of my friends. I felt disappointed, sure but I let it go because I knew I couldn’t do anything about it anymore.

Then when I got home, I suddenly felt myself being nervous around my mother, she kept asking me and I relented and told her I failed for the very first time to be in the honour list.

What hurt more was that she didn’t scream at me. She usually does on smaller matters (she'd curse a lot) but now she simply sounded disappointed, berated me and told me how I would tell my hardworking father. What’s worse was that I was now the one being compared to my older sibling who was passing her classes.

I didn't cry, I didn’t feel like needing to cry even by then, I was ashamed but I didn’t cry, I felt numb that I didn’t cry, I kept quiet and took in all her words. She told me she expected better and that honest to god hurts most.

When dinner came around my mother told my father about my failed grades, he sounded disappointed and angry too. I didn’t cry. I expected and deserved it.

Yet. when I was alone, feeding the dog (she's tied outside by the shop where my dad fixes cars, he's a self employed mechanic) I felt my eyes water and tears started falling down, my chest tightened and I wanted to stop yet I couldn't. I hid behind our car that was nearby, ashamed to be seen crying over my failed grades. Now hunched over in the shadows, trying desperately to wipe the onslaught of tears, I took and shaky breaths and composed myself as best as I could. Finishing up with my chore and going to my room as if I hadn't been crying my eyes out.

Soo.. I'm gonna be on my last yeah of hs this year. And the pressure is high.

So growing up i've been getting average and sometimes higher than average grades. In my country although 75 is considered passing in special science schools 85 is the passing grade, with 90 being the average and therefore the grade every student sought after including myself.

90-93 has been my consistent grades throughout elementary, my mother didn't really push me to study because as she said I was smart enough that I only need to listen to the lesson and be good to go. And it worked at first.

Entering Highschool I didn't really have to learn to study because well it was online and I just searched up the answers. By 9th grade when we had our first face2face I barely got 90. It didn't serve as a wakeup call, nore did 10 grade when I graduated with 91%. At senior high, in the first semester midterms, they gave us the grades we got. i got 88%.

Still passing I know, but my parents, my mother especially, started this whole thing.

For context my sister is in college, tuition is barley covered and my dad works his own business that isn't getting much customers. Although my sister got a scholarship that gives her free tuition, the school was too far my sister would have to live with my grandma. Which made my dad worry about her health, i don't really get the reason.

So now it's my responsibility to get a good scholarship. My parents are ok with sending me to that same school they didn't want my sister to go to because 'I can handle myself'. But still since my 88% I've been pressured to get better grades. After a shit ton of studying I got 92%in my first sem grade. With my second sem being 96%, mostly with the help of joining a contest which the training lasted the whole first half of the second semester's midterm, then a big dance contest against other schools that got me pulled out of class and me and the other dancers got a grade no lesser than the previous. So because I got 96 in my previous I also got 96 if you got what I mean.

Anyways I understand why my parents are stressing over college, sending two daughters would not be possible with my dad's income. But I kinda blame my dad for not sending my sister there.

Idk, im already looking through scholarships on different school, started studying now too. But i also dont like that I'm reminded everyday that if I dont get a good scholarship one of us would not be able to go to college at all. Suddenly I want to go to school agshahahhahah

Every day feels like an uphill battle!!! I’m 37, a housewife, and I manage everything in my household while trying to raise my two kids who are always bursting with energy. Some days, I just want to feel like a normal person again! But with the chaos of toys scattered everywhere, laundry piling up, and meal prep seeming like a never-ending chore, I find myself overwhelmed!!! Can anyone relate?!!! It’s easy to lose sight of my own needs when everyone else’s come first!!! Yet, here I am, crying for what feels like no reason at all. What is wrong with me?!!! I shouldn’t be crying, should I?!!! 🤷‍♀️

It’s not like I don’t love my kids!! I adore them, truly!!! But sometimes, I wonder if I’m going to lose my mind with the constant demands on my time and energy!!! I juggle their needs, their homework, their tantrums, and honestly, some days, I don’t know how to even put a smile on my face!!! Why do I feel so lost?!!! I’m always putting out fires and STRESSING!!! 😩 Maybe it’s the isolation of being a stay-at-home mom?! I mean, don’t get me wrong, I cherish the time I spend with my kids!!! But it can be so lonely without adult conversations!!! Does anyone else just feel like they need a break from the relentless cycle of parenting?!!!

Yet, I know this period is temporary!!! Somewhere deep down, I find hope!!! I think about how one day, my kids will grow up and maybe I’ll reclaim my freedom?! I constantly remind myself to appreciate the little moments that bring joy, the laughter that fills the air when we play or even those cozy movie nights! 🎥✨ I try to embrace the chaos, even when I feel like crying. It’s alright to cry sometimes, right?!!! It’s just one of those days!!! So, here’s to tomorrow!!! 💪 Let’s keep moving forward and cherish every precious moment!!!

if a another teacher gives me another 4x6 note card I might flip. Anyways… any tips for a girl?😫

so, the other day, my kids hit me with that classic line again: “dad, you’re overreacting!” honestly, it feels like a universal law in our household now. a simple mishap, like forgetting to take out the trash? suddenly, it's World War III in my living room. I swear, it’s like my reaction is some overblown sitcom scene, where I’m dramatic for no reason. I try to be chill, but something in me just snaps when I see their mess and the trash piling up. I mean, who wants to live in a pigsty, right?

last week, for example, I caught my youngest trying to microwave a sandwich. I’ll be straight-up with you, the thought of him making that decision just got my dad senses tingling. like, isn’t that a recipe for disaster? those moments when I see their creativity with food just make my heart race. I yelled out, “are you trying to give yourself food poisoning?” I heard the groans as soon as I caught that sparkle of enthusiasm in his eyes—"dad, calm down, it’s just a sandwich!" but seriously, what if it gets burnt? or worse, they try to cook one of those fancy burnt cheese things; it’s like playing with fire! I need them to understand that safety first; it’s about survival too.

then there’s the time they thought it was a good idea to ride their bikes down that steep hill at the park. I mean, come on! the thought of them flying into traffic gave me heart palpitations. I yelled something like, “you’ll break a bone or worse!” and they rolled their eyes at me like I’m living in a different era. it’s almost like they think their dad is just an overly cautious, ridiculous figure to bicker with. I just want to protect them, I swear it’s not just me being dramatic. there’s a fine line between adventure and stupidity, right? how does anyone know where that line is when you have kids who think they're invincible?

one evening, we were watching a movie, and there was a jump scare that made me spill my popcorn everywhere. I went off on a mini-rant, like, “why do filmmakers feel the need to jolt us like that?” my kids laughed, of course. “dad, chill out! it’s just a movie!” it’s like I became the punchline in their comedy show. I’ll admit, I can tend to get a little carried away. yet, how can I not when it feels like everyone around me is playing games with my heart rate? still, I sometimes wonder if I really am overreacting; maybe I should loosen up a bit.

truthfully, I think there’s a straight-up imbalance between their carefree nature and my protective instincts. I want them to explore and be free, but man, do I sometimes feel like a sitcom dad on the verge of a nervous breakdown. am I really overreacting, or do I just have an overabundance of caution that keeps shocking them? I thought being a parent would come with a manual or something. every day is this unique challenge, and I really gotta ask myself—what's wrong with them acting like my reactions are just part of their teenage amusement? it’s a real conundrum; should I embrace the chaos or keep pushing back, expecting them to listen?

Myself 35F and my husband 36M have been wanting to start a family for a while now. A things initially put us off such as space and family drama. As well as some conditions 35F has.

We decided this was something we have to try been referred to - specialist for these going through tests and realise that we are told we only have months try before going to possibly do IVF.

We are keeping this private. But some of the family isn’t supportive they have to try or won’t know.

A family member has a big birthday coming up and they want to book something but we have told them that we can’t commit as we also have another big family birthday that weekend and that their night be more people to consider it a little one if possible. Am I over reacting given that the birthday is 10 months away and we have been given less than thst to start a family? What do people always have to book so far in advance and we keep getting pushed for an answer. I really want a baby and to be pregnant but I am wondering if k am putting too much pressure on it and myself. Especially if we do have a baby it will be hard to travel.

Not sure they underpants that or willing to give us space. I feel very on edge about it all. As I want it so much. Thoughts?

I’m 14 and I didn’t really have a good past because of my mother, and the past couple months now I have noticed a lot of changes about myself mentally. If I’m out of the house for too long like at stores or restaurants, I’ll just panic and I don’t understand why, It becomes hard to talk and usually I’ll just say “home”. Last year me and my family went to a huge festival, I panicked and we had to sit down for a while, I would stop panicking but it would start up again randomly and I just couldn’t control it. My grandma and grandpa took me to the car and I calmed down while my dad and my sister were still out for about 15 minutes before we left. They kept bringing it up and said it was an “inconvenience”. Often times if I feel a texture I don’t like, it feels weird like I have to shake it off my hands or I just sit there with my hands out and go like “ah” or “eugh”, my grandma as recognized it and will give me a napkin for my hands or just move us away from where the material was. Sometimes I get in this headspace where I feel like mentally around the ages of 6-10. I never really got to have a childhood, my dad said it was good before him and my mom got divorced but I don’t remember it and I only remember the bad stuff. I want to know what’s wrong with me but when I asked my therapist she said it was just a phase but I cried to her about it months ago (she is no longer my therapist for other reasons). I feel like I’m this way because I was forced to grow up too fast, I mean I was taking care of a baby (my little sister) when I was 5. My mom was selling my toys and Christmas presents for drugs.

When I get really interested in something like a video game, I talk very passionately about it and sometimes I get a little loud when I talk but I don’t notice it. My dad always gets mad at me and I try to stay quieter. I almost always tell my grandma about all my interests and crafts because she is the only one who actually listens. Today I went to talk to her about the craft I wanted to do for my Halloween costume this year. I was in debate between doing a barn owl or a deer kinda cosplay. I was in the middle of saying how I thought the deer one would be harder and how I really wanted to do the owl, but she didn’t let me talk and just kept saying “the owl sounds too hard, you should do the deer”. I kept asking her to let me explain and she was like “well the owl just seems too hard for you”. At that point I just went back upstairs to my room and cried. My dad doesn’t let me tell him about my interests because I talk too much and he wants the short story,now he doesn’t want to hear it at all. My little sister is spoiled rotten by my dad and just doesn’t let me talk, then she gets mad at me when I get mad at her because she keeps interrupting me.

I just want to know what’s wrong with me

I messed up my exams and I don’t wanna study anymore. I’m really scared about my parents. I feel like they are gonna hate me…

I'm questioning my worthiness for this position. The thought keeps surfacing that my appointment might have been due to a lack of preferred internal connections for others. What am I supposed to make of these feelings?"

I never imagined I’d find myself even thinking this, let alone writing it down—but lately, I’ve been wondering if my son truly loves me anymore. We used to be so close when he was younger. He’d run to me after school, tell me about his day, ask me for advice. Now, at 26, he barely picks up the phone. Messages go unread for days. If we do talk, it’s short, clipped, and he sounds like he’d rather be anywhere else. I know children grow up, I know they build their own lives—but this feels different. It doesn’t feel like distance, it feels like rejection. Like he resents me, or worse, doesn't care at all.

It’s in the little things that the pain creeps in. Holidays, for example—he’ll visit, but only because I ask, and he never stays long. He doesn’t initiate hugs anymore. There’s no warmth in his voice. Last Christmas, he showed up late, didn’t bring a gift or even a card, and spent most of the evening on his phone. When I tried to talk to him about his job, he just mumbled one-word answers. I used to know everything going on in his life. Now I learn about major updates from social media—after he’s told everyone else. When I mention feeling left out, he tells me I’m being too emotional or dramatic. That word—dramatic—burns every time.

I’ve tried to reflect on where I might have gone wrong. I wasn’t perfect. I yelled sometimes. I had rules, like any parent. I worked long hours when he was young, trying to provide. But I loved him with everything I had. I sat at his bedside when he was sick. I helped him with homework late into the night. I gave up so much so he could have opportunities I never had. So when he acts like I’m just some obligation now, it breaks something in me. I don’t need constant praise or attention—but I do need to feel like I matter in his life, like I’m still his mom and not some figure he’s trying to avoid.

The hardest part is that I can’t talk to anyone about it without sounding bitter. Friends will say, “He’s just busy,” or “It’s a phase.” But when that “phase” stretches into years, you start to ask yourself deeper questions. Like, what if he really doesn’t love me anymore? What if all the love I poured into raising him just... faded on his end? There are signs I can’t ignore anymore. No “I love you” at the end of calls. No interest in my life—he never asks how I’m doing. Birthdays are forgotten. He cancels plans without apology. It’s not just neglect; it’s indifference. And indifference hurts more than anger, because at least anger means they feel something.

What makes this worse is watching him with other people. I’ve seen him be so kind to his girlfriend’s family—bringing flowers, planning trips, sending thoughtful texts. I’m happy he’s found love, but it stings to know I don’t get that version of him anymore. Maybe he’s giving his best to others now, and there’s nothing left for me. I wonder if he sees me as just a reminder of his childhood or a source of guilt. I don’t want his pity, I just want a little of that love back. A phone call where he’s not distracted. A visit he actually wants to make. A moment where he looks at me like I still mean something.

I know I can’t force love. I know that adult children don’t owe their parents constant attention. But love shows up in effort, in presence, in the small gestures that say “you still matter.” And right now, all the signs point to something I never thought I’d face—a son who’s moved on from loving his mother. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m just feeling lonley, reading too much into things. But if you’ve ever felt this ache too, then you know it’s not easy to ignore. I just hope one day he remembers the woman who raised him, who loved him even when he pulled away, and decides to come back—not out of guilt, but because he wants to. Until then, I wait, and wonder if the silence is my answer.

I have an abusive mom(both emotionally and physically) And whenever I vent about it, everyone gives her a free pass just because she gave birth to me.

I'll use a conversation I had with my friend a bit ago as an example.

So I was venting to my friend a few weeks ago about my mom, and it was going fine. They were trying to be comforting, and reassuring, ect. But then at the end of it they started talking to me about how I should never cut her off. They said in these exact words: "I know she's not the best mother ever, but she gave you life. Every day she makes sure you have food and water, and a roof over your head. So when you get older, you should still take care of her and keep her in your life" And I guess I just got really angry at this.

Yeah she makes sure I have food and water, but isn't that the bare minimum? She is never there for me emotionally, has never said "I'm proud of you", calls me a useless piece of shit, manipulates, hits me for random reasons, and ect. And I don't think that I should completely ignore all of it just because she's my mom. And why should I take care of her when she's older when she never takes care of me now? I know I should probably be grateful that I'm alive because of her, but I really don't feel like I owe her anything. It's not like I wanted to be born or something.

When I get older I really just want to cut her out of my life and not see her again. I'm sorry if that's selfish, but I don't think I can be happy otherwise.