Life Stories and Everyday Drama - page 15

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.

i’ve spent my whole life chasing the dream of being a pro footballer, y’know? every day, training on my own, with the lads, at the gym, trying to push myself harder than yesterday. i’d wake up early, sleep late, never stopped thinking about the game. but now, i’m 23, and it’s finally hitting me that maybe, just maybe, i’m not good enough. no club’s ever taken me seriously, and i can’t even get a spot to earn a basic salary from this. it hurts, honestly, because i gave it everything i had. my parents, bless them, they’ve been my biggest cheerleaders, always saying “don’t give up,” but i can see it in their eyes too – they’re worried about what comes next. i should’ve studied more, kept my options open, but all i could think of was football. now it feels like i’m standing at the edge of a cliff, wondering what to do next. do i keep pushing for something that’s not happening, or do i finally admit i need a plan b?

the thing is, i don’t even know what i’d do if it’s not football. i’ve put all my eggs in this basket for so long, i can’t imagine doing anything else. i didn’t focus on school, didn’t get a trade, nothing. football was my life, my identity. now i feel like a fool, and it’s scary. but i guess life’s not over yet. there’s still time to figure something out, even if it means starting from scratch. i’ve been thinking about coaching, maybe working with kids, trying to pass on what i know. or i could look at fitness training or something else sporty – something that keeps me close to the game. it’s not the big dream i had, but it’s a start, right? i’m not gonna sit around and mope forever, i just need to get my head straight and make a new plan; maybe this was never meant to be my path in the first place. have you ever felt like your dream was slipping away from you and you had to start again?

sometimes i feel embarrassed talking about this, like i’m letting everyone down – my family, my mates, even myself. but deep down, i know they just want me to be happy. it’s not about how much money you make or the career you have, it’s about waking up and feeling good about what you’re doing. i don’t want to waste more years chasing something that’s breaking me down. i’m still young, i’ve got time to figure it out, and i’m not afraid to work hard – i just need to be smart about it. maybe i’ll find something that gives me the same buzz as football. maybe it’ll take a while. but i’m not giving up on life, not on my dreams either, just shifting them a bit. at the end of the day, it’s about finding your own version of success, whatever that looks like. so why am i not good enough? maybe i am – just not for the path i thought i wanted.

There's a guy I have met in dating app with him I wanna have romantic feelings with him but he has friendly feelings n said he wants to friends and slowly develop into something but idk how long will it take. He said his past was not good because of hurry relationship n stuff.

When he was online in app I was really jealous but he told it was because he saw old friend n chatted in his hometown.

Then he compared his friend with me I was devastated.

I told him i will move on clearly but in reality idk what to do.

sometimes i just wake up feeling like the weight of the whole world is pressing down on me, and it feels like i can’t catch a break from it all. i’m 28, and i guess i’ve reached that point where everything in life seems heavy; the bills, the job that never gives me peace of mind, and the constant pressure to be more, to do better. even though i try to keep my head up and push through, it feels like every step forward pulls me two steps back. i look at myself and wonder if i’m really doing what i was meant to do, if this struggle is supposed to be my reality. i mean, why should i keep going, right? but then, there’s this tiny spark inside me that whispers maybe it’s worth seeing where it leads, maybe there’s something ahead i haven’t seen yet. sometimes it’s not about the big achievements, but the small wins, like making a stranger smile or finishing a book that lifts me up just a little bit. i wonder if that’s enough to hold onto.

there are days when i sit quietly, sipping my coffee, and the silence feels louder than a crowd, but i still choose to show up for the day; it’s not easy. there are moments where i feel like i’m stuck in an endless loop of trying and failing, trying and failing, and it’s exhausting. but when i look around, when i see the sun peeking through the blinds or hear my neighbor’s dog barking like he’s calling out to me, i remember that there are little things that make life less unbearable. it’s funny how those tiny, seemingly insignificant details can pull me back from the edge of giving up completely. have you ever thought about that? how the smallest thing can spark a feeling of connection, even if just for a second? i’m not saying it fixes everything, but it’s enough to keep me from falling too deep. i try to remind myself that feelings, even the overwhelming ones, come and go; maybe that’s what makes them bearable in the long run.

i guess the real question is, am i willing to keep trying despite it all? it’s easy to think about quitting when the weight feels too heavy, but then i remind myself of the people who care about me, even if i don’t always see it. i think about the future, the chance that maybe one day i’ll look back and realize this was just a rough chapter and not the whole story. do you ever think about that? that maybe the bad days don’t define everything? i know it’s hard to hold onto that idea when everything feels like it’s falling apart, but i’m trying. i’m trying because deep down i believe that tomorrow could be different, that there might be a reason to smile, a reason to breathe deeply and say, “i made it through this day.” maybe that’s why i should keep living, because there’s still a chance for things to change, and i’m curious to see what’s on the other side.

As an insecure 15 year old girl, I am very confused rn or maybe just in denial.

There was a guy that I met online and he lovebombed me. He was weird and perverted but I didn't care because he expressed that he wanted me.

I don't think all of this anger and sadness that I'm feeling rn is because of him but because of myself. I didn't like him romantically but I kept talking to him because he fed my ego... he made me feel wanted.

Ig I want to date especially when prom is coming up this year but I have a delusional fantasy that someone sweet and kind will just suddenly pop up and like me like those corny romcoms.

My head keeps on telling me that I'm not good enough to have someone want me. That I'm too ugly and uninteresting to even pique someone's interest. (I mean a part of me thinks I'm good looking, my friends assures me and people online too but I just can't trust it because you know!? Would you actually tell your ugly friend that their ugly?? ) ( Irl people don't look at me for my looks but in socmed they do)

I hate how I have my hopes up when someone even just looks at me for a sec.

I do get stares when I go out, I mean duh!! it's normal because humans have eyes so they obviously will use it. But I'm just curious on what type of stare it was... Like a stare that I look pretty or a stare that I have something on face.

I'm going to share an emberassing thing that sometimes when I accidentally get stolen glances from a guy his girlfriend shows up ughh so emberassing!! Ik I shouldn't hate myself for it but!!

Any advice? Or maybe people who also relate 🥹

so... my wife of 25 years suddenly tells me she wants to see other people.... now, i ain't saying i'm the most open-minded guy on the planet, but this really left me scrambling for answers. i mean, after a quarter of a century of marriage, are we really doing this? is sharing my wife something i should even consider? i'm a guy who appreciates loyalty and commitment, you know? i always thought those things were the bedrock of our relationship. we were the couple who finished each other's sentences and could talk without speaking a word. now i find myself wondering if all those moments meant the same to her as they did to me. she tells me she still loves me, that this isn't about replacing me, just about exploring new experiences. but let's be real, how am i supposed to process that? is it unreasonable of me to expect exclusivity in a marriage? am i being too old-school here? now, i'm no prude, and i know times are changing, but this kind of feels like exploring new territories when i'm comfortable where i've been planting my roots. i find myself asking if sharing my spouse is really something people do in a healthy relationship. i guess it's a matter of perspective, right? i've read about open relationships, and some people swear by them, saying it brings them closer and all that jazz. but let's be straight here: sharing your partner ain't everyone's cup of tea. there’s an insecurity that bubbles up just thinking about it. like, how does a guy not worry about being pushed aside or becoming the plan b? talking to some buddies about this hasn't exactly put my mind at ease either. one of them said, "dude, if it makes her happy, maybe it's worth considering." sure, i get that making your partner happy is important, but what about my happiness? is it selfish of me to feel anxious and uncomfortable with the idea that she might find something - or someone - better? and then, what about trust? sharing her means putting a helluva lot of trust out there. what if trust turns into jealousy? can our marriage handle that test? then i think about all the years we've spent building a family, raising kids, and i wonder what it says to them if we embark on this route. is it saying, "hey, devotion isn't that big of a deal after all?" maybe i'm overthinking it, but what message does that send? it’s just that the thought of her with someone else—it’s unnerving. i always figured marriage was a two-person gig. so, am i wrong for feeling territorial about my wife? i thought we signed up for a lifetime of commitment, not a lease with renewal options. perhaps i'm just trying to hold onto a notion that time and society have evolved beyond. i still don't know if i have the emotional bandwidth to share her affection. so, i'm reaching out into the anonymous void looking for advice or perspective. how do i get my head around this without losing it? i mean, i wouldn't mind hearing some realistic takes or personal stories from anyone who's been down this road. have you ever been asked to share something you couldn't quite let go of? not sure where this will lead, but it’s a conversation i can't have with her just yet. life at 52 sure is throwing its challenges, and maybe it's just another lesson i'll look back on someday. but for now, anyone willing to share their two cents?

Its about my boyfriend. I dont want to talk bad about them because they're dealing with some stuff mentally and emotionally, mostly anxious problems. But I just hate hate it when I spend an hour waiting for him. I would be ok if the cafe was a one off thing but no. We've had multiple dates where I waited for him for an hour or almost an hour. Its not like I go on time sometimes, even I am late on the agreed time, mostly 5-10 minutes late because I really dont like making people wait for me. but when I get there he isn't there yet.

Its just... Once I managed to wait an hour on the mall we agreed to go to, walk all the way to his home, its quite close maybe 10-15 minutes with the pace I was going, and wait for more time before I even saw him get out of his house hair wet from shower. I understand he also has chores but that was just ridiculous.

But since my parents dont really know about us.. I always had to be creative and set time that wont be too late or too early, reasoning it as me needing to buy something for school, so the time is even more needed to be followed if you get me. His parents also dont know so we usually agree on a set time the day before. Rarely we agree on hanging out on the same day but when we do ita usually atleast 3hrs before..

But really I should've known better after dating him for almost 3 years now. He's the type to be late even on our own graduation, he barely made it with his mom before his name was called.

What's more upsetting about the cafe this is that its currently summer, that means I don't even have that much excuses to go out because I dont have projects to buy supplies for or no study groups to go to. We had a meeting for our school's journalism club for some reason which was, although cancelled, was a good excuse to leave the house.

I just feel like I should be more understanding but it's really upsetting checking my phone every five minutes for a text that says he'd be late or something. Sometimes I even get worried he wont show up at all.

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

so I've been dating this awesome girl for about three months now and everything is freaking great. Like, honestly, I've never been this happy. But here's the catch - my parents don't have a clue that I'm into girls. Yup, I'm a lesbian, and trust me, coming out to your folks ain't a walk in the park. I'm 19, so I guess it's high time I spill the beans, right? But seriously, how do you even approach this whole "hey mom, dad, I'm lesbian" chat without having a mini heart attack? They're pretty chill folks but still, the fear is real.

I mean, we all know how these conversations usually go down. It's not like I'm gonna bust out guitar and sing "I'm Coming Out" by Diana Ross. It's more like an intense, awkward movie scene where everyone freaks out. Plus, there's always crap like the possibility of them flipping their lids or, worse, looking at you with that disappointed expression that's scarier than hell. But here's the thing, you gotta own it, right? You're responsible for your happiness and whatnot. And if someone suggests shoving this truth under the rug, eff that noise; this is your life. So, do you wait for the perfect moment, or just rip the bandaid off and let the chips fall where they may?

so like, here's the deal, my pet died, and seriously, I just can’t stop crying. it feels like my whole world has come crashing down. I know, it sounds dramatic, right? but hear me out, when you’ve had a pet for over a decade, they’re not just some animal you feed and clean up after; they're family, a piece of you if I’m being honest. I'm 29, yeah, a freaking adult, but you'd think I was a kid the way I've been bawling my eyes out lately. it’s been a whirlwind of emotions, both overwhelming and downright exhausting. it sneaks up on you, the grief. one minute I'm fine, pushing through my day, masking the pain with fake smiles and casual banter, then the next moment I see their favorite toy lying around or their pawprints on the carpet and—bam!—I’m reduced back to a blubbering mess. ever had those moments? you know the ones where your chest feels so tight it’s like you can’t even breathe? that’s me, every damn day since the incident. I'm not trying to make a mountain out of a molehill here, but it's like a constant reminder of the emptiness lingering in the spaces they used to occupy, the silence that's suddenly too loud. I swear, I never realized just how quiet a home could be until they weren’t around to fill it with their quirky antics or those endearing little sounds that used to annoy me sometimes—crazy, right? it’s funny how in all my naive optimism, I never really prepared for this moment; I mean, who does prepare for losing something they love as much as I loved them? who can genuinely be ready to say goodbye forever?

the loss hits different when it’s someone or something you cherished beyond words, especially when you’ve shared special moments that are now etched into your soul permanently. they were there for all the highs and lows of my 20s, curled up in a comforting presence when life decided to throw me a few curveballs. you never really appreciate the little things until they’re gone, and those little things, those day-to-day interactions, are what I miss the most. from the way they’d follow me around to how they’d snugly fit right beside me on a lazy Sunday afternoon watching TV, it’s those memories that catch me off guard and push me under a wave of grief. it's not just sadness, there’s honestly a speck of anger seeping in too, and let me tell you, feeling pissed about something you have absolutely no control over is one hell of a sucky feeling. part of me keeps yelling internally, 'it’s not fair!'. I mean, how do you move on from feeling robbed of more time, those fleeting moments that seemed insignificant always meant the world to me, especially now when they're no longer attainable. maybe they’re in a better place, maybe they’re frolicking somewhere free of pain, but damn it, I wanted them here, now, with me. is that selfish? should I be content with the memories and grateful for the time we had? perhaps. but, like, grief isn’t a straightforward path. it’s a tangled mess of emotions, regrets, what-ifs, and unexpressed love. times like these make me question if getting another pet would help fill the void, or if that would merely be a placeholder for the space they once filled; would moving on too quickly be doing an injustice to the love I held for them? or worse, would it make me forget? wrestling with these questions is an emotional rollercoaster, one that I wish I could just get off of already. truth is, I have no freaking clue how to stop this perpetual cycle of weepy outbreaks and melancholic episodes. a part of me is starting to accept that maybe, just maybe, healing doesn’t mean I'm forgetting or erasing their presence from my life but rather finding a way to live with their memory integrated into my everyday existence. slowly, ever so slowly, I'm starting to recognize it’s okay to be a mess right now, to not have all the answers, to feel all these feelings so intensely. will I stop crying soon? who knows? but what I do know is they brought so much joy into my life, and for that, I’ll always be grateful, even through the tears. guess I just needed to pour all this out, let the emotions run their course, and see where I land when the dust settles. is that okay? because, honestly, talking it all out helps, even if it's just to this anonymous void. 🐾

My husband and I had an our baby four months ago. The entire time I was pregnant he acted like he was so excited and going to be such a good dad. Everyone had such high expectations for him. Now that she’s actually here, he’s just mean to both of us. She’s a really easy baby and isn’t fussy very often, but the moment she does anything other than smile he gets annoyed. He’s constantly in a bad mood and when I ask why he always says it’s because of her. He’s started taking it out on me and is so short tempered and distant with me. He doesn’t ever really hold her or interact with her unless I downright force him to and even then he just puts her in her swing/bassinet/etc. within five minutes. It’s to the point that both of our families have asked if he even really holds her or pays attention to her. It’s making me really second guess the fact that I married him and feel guilty for choosing him as the father of my child. To make matters worse, he wants more than one kid.

About a year ago, I discovered my boyfriend—who isn’t diagnosed but shows strong signs of narcissism (his father is clinically diagnosed)—was masturbating to photos of his high school classmates and, heartbreakingly, to my best friend. I was devastated, but I ended up forgiving him. I was deep in trauma bonding, and he knew exactly how to manipulate me.

Throughout our relationship, the only thing that ever truly bothered me was his emotional unavailability. Besides that, he felt perfect to me—caring, attentive, and present in ways that made me believe he truly loved me. That illusion stayed intact until I stumbled across those messages in their group chat.

Last week, I caught him again. Same girls. A few new ones. Still my best friend. He’s obsessed with her style—she’s the complete opposite of me: gothic, bold, and conventionally sexy. I’m struggling right now. I feel lost, broken, showing signs of depression, and I’m undergoing lab tests for a possible autoimmune disorder.

Here’s the twist—he has no idea that I know everything. I’ve decided to keep playing the game, feeding his ego because he thrives on admiration. I do everything he wants, all while preparing to shatter his illusion. In a week, I plan to confront him with the full truth. I know he’ll panic and try to chase after me, but I’ll make it clear: if he tries anything manipulative again, I’ll expose everything—his messages, the videos, the disgusting things he and his friends have said about unsuspecting girls—on Facebook and Instagram. When I first caught him I read that his friends were scared that I would also tell their girlfriends but I didn't.

I won’t lie, I still have feelings for him. Part of me still believes he cared, that maybe there were moments of real love in our 2.5-year relationship. But this has to end.

I don’t know—does this make me the villain for planning to call him out like this? I feel stupid even writing this. He wasn’t always bad… but now I can’t unsee the truth.

so, life took an unexpected turn recently. i'm a 54-year-old guy, and you'd think by now i've seen it all, right? but nope, life still surprises. my wife, the woman i thought was my partner through thick and thin, cheated on me. not just with anyone, but with my best friend. talk about a double whammy. i don't even know what hurts more, the betrayal or the fact that it came from someone so close. betrayal sucks, man. it really does. it's like having someone drive a stake through your heart and then just twisting it for good measure. ever been there?

i'm trying to figure out how to bounce back from this mess. you'd think at my age, i'd have the wisdom of experience to guide me, but every day feels like navigating a minefield. how do you rebuild trust when it's been obliterated? "time heals all wounds," they say. but let's be real, time can also make you dwell on stuff you wish you could forget. for now, i'm just taking it one step at a time. i leaned on some classic tunes dubbed "heartbreak anthems" and found a shred of solace in them. funny how music can sometimes be the only thing that understands you. oh well, i digress.

it’s a wild ride. i'm not sure where i'll end up, but isn't that part of the journey? i've read countless self-help articles, and some talk about forgiveness and moving on. i'm not sure i'm there yet. what does forgiveness even look like in this scenario? does it mean being okay with what happened, or is it more about finding peace in your own head? i've made a point of not letting bitterness consume me, though. staying hopeful, you know? it’s like that quote i once saw: "holding onto anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die." ain't that the truth?

going through this ordeal with a positive lens is a conscious choice; after all, life's too short to wallow in negativity. i've decided to focus on what i can control. i started picking up old hobbies, keeping busy. there's something therapeutic about diving into activities that remind you who you are beyond the hurt. maybe someone reading this can relate. does getting back to a personal hobby ring a bell for anyone? hope it does. having little wins each day gives you something to look forward to. also, talking to a therapist has been a game-changer for me. it's nice to have someone just listen.

so, that's where i'm at right now. i'm trying to piece it all together. sure, it's not easy, but nothing worth having ever is, right? the affair recovery is more about healing than anything else. my story ain't unique, and i know there's a bunch of people out there in the same boat. if you're one of them, hang in there. life's a rollercoaster packed with ups and downs, but the ride's worth it. stay strong and keep moving forward; tomorrow's got to be better. and hey, if you feel like sharing your story too, drop a line. sometimes, it's easier to heal together...

so here i am, 28, a freelancer consultant in this big IT company where everybody seems older and way more experienced than me… or at least they think so. 😔 every time i walk into a meeting or even just show up at my little cubicle (which by the way feels like a prison cell), i can sense the vibe. they don’t say anything directly, but it’s all there in the way they look at me, the way they nod without really listening when i suggest something. it’s like i’m just some annoying intern who got in by mistake. i keep trying to show i know my stuff, i read all the documentation, i stay late, i help whenever someone’s stuck. and still, there’s this wall, this invisible thing between me and them. do you ever feel that too? like you’re screaming into a void and no one cares?

sometimes, i even think maybe it’s my age, like they see me as this little kid trying to play in the big league. i mean, yeah, i’m younger, but that doesn’t mean i don’t know what i’m doing. 😤 i’ve had my own projects, worked with clients who were a nightmare and still pulled through, and now i’m here, and it’s like all that doesn’t matter. just because i’m younger and not part of their inner circle, it’s like they decided i don’t deserve to be taken seriously. what’s up with that? does age really decide how much you should respect someone in a workplace? or is it just some old-school mentality that’s still floating around? i can’t tell, but it makes me feel invisible, and no matter how much i try to integrate myself, it’s like i’m hitting a brick wall.

i’ve tried everything to fit in. i laugh at their lame jokes, i bring coffee when no one asks, i stay quiet when they clearly dismiss my ideas just to avoid conflict. i even took up this project no one wanted because i thought maybe it would earn me some respect. nope, same cold shoulders, same fake smiles, same nods. sometimes, i just sit there in meetings, pretending to take notes while my mind’s screaming, “what’s the point?” do you ever feel like that? like you’re stuck in this loop where no matter what you do, you’re always seen as the outsider? it’s not even about wanting to be best friends with these people; i just want a little bit of appreciation, a simple “good job” or even a real conversation where they actually listen.

every time i try to talk to someone, it’s like they’re always too busy, too stressed, or just plain uninterested. i get it, we all have stuff going on, but come on, how hard is it to be a little human? i don’t even expect them to throw me a party or anything; just some basic respect would be nice. it’s funny how i’m the one supposed to coach them, and yet here i am, feeling like a little kid trying to prove i belong. 😂 i know it’s not all about feelings at work, but man, it’s hard to stay motivated when you’re constantly ignored. and it’s not like i can just quit, i need this gig, i need the experience, and i need the paycheck. but every day it’s getting harder to drag myself out of bed knowing i’ll just be another shadow in the office.

so here’s my little rant, not looking for sympathy or advice, just needed to let it out. maybe you’ve been there too, feeling unappreciated and stuck in a place where no one seems to care. maybe you’ve tried everything like me, and still ended up being the outsider. or maybe you’re lucky and you’ve never felt this way. either way, it’s just something i had to get off my chest. because honestly, if i don’t vent here, where else? thanks for reading if you made it this far. guess i’ll just keep pushing through, hoping someday someone will finally see me for who i am and what i bring to the table. 🤷‍♀️

i’ve been thinking a lot about how i’m the only one in my team who genuinely cares about what we do at work, and i mean really cares about the quality of our projects, the deadlines, and even the tiny details that everyone else seems to gloss over without a second thought... 😩 it’s not even that i’m some sort of perfectionist, i just believe that if we’re gonna do something, we should do it right, ya know? but lately, it’s becoming obvious that i’m the only one pulling this weight while the rest are chilling, and it’s driving me nuts; i wake up thinking about work, i go to sleep worrying about emails, and when i’m finally off, i’m mentally drained and just staring at the ceiling wondering why no one else seems to give a damn. it’s exhausting, and it’s starting to make me question if i’m the problem or if i just care way too much for a job that probably won’t even remember my name in ten years...

like seriously, i keep telling myself that i need to chill, that i need to let go and just go with the flow like everyone else, but i find it so hard to do that! maybe it’s because i’ve been conditioned to believe that hard work and dedication are the keys to success, or maybe it’s just my pride whispering in my ear, telling me that if i let go, i’m giving up on myself. but can i really keep up this pace without burning out completely? i’m 33, for crying out loud, and i’m already feeling like i’m 50 with the amount of stress i’m carrying. i see my coworkers leaving early, joking around, barely meeting deadlines, and i’m here, staying late, double-checking everything, and picking up the slack. it’s not sustainable, and it’s not fair; yet, i feel trapped in this cycle of overcaring because i don’t want to be “that guy” who lets the team down.

it’s funny, though, because when i try to ease off, when i tell myself to relax and not care so much, i get this weird anxiety, like something’s gonna fall apart if i’m not there to catch it. but the reality is, nothing catastrophic happens; the projects still move forward, the clients don’t scream bloody murder, and the world keeps spinning. it’s just my mind playing tricks on me, making me think that i’m the last line of defense for quality and integrity, but maybe that’s just my ego talking. 😅 i’ve started practicing little steps to detach myself, like logging off exactly on time, not checking emails after hours, and even taking my full lunch break away from my desk. and you know what? it feels... good. like i’m slowly reclaiming my sanity, piece by piece. it’s a weird adjustment, but i’m beginning to see that the sky doesn’t fall if i stop caring as much as i used to.

so, what about you? have you ever felt like you’re carrying the team on your shoulders while everyone else is just cruising? how did you manage to stop caring too much without feeling guilty or anxious? i’m trying to figure this out, to find that balance where i can still take pride in my work without letting it consume my life. it’s a work in progress, but i’m hopeful that i’ll get there. 🌅 maybe the secret is to care just enough, but not too much, to know when to let go and trust that it’ll be okay. i’m trying to remind myself that my worth isn’t measured by how much i sacrifice at work, and that it’s okay to prioritize my health and happiness over a never-ending to-do list. wish me luck! 🤞