Life Stories and Everyday Drama - page 23

hiya! so basically i've known this person ,we'll call her Lauren I guess, for about three years now. we met during classes one day and we sort of just became friends, she wanted things I had (food, money, drinks etc.) and I wanted friends. so she convinced me to do all these things such as skipping classes, skipping meals, and other things of the like. she would tell me really sad things about herself (that I'm not even sure whether they're true anymore) and then i'd feel obligated to give her stuff, or comfort her. then she would get involved in my love life and things and ruin my relationships. she kept getting me to buy her stuff, and do stuff with her, then she blamed ME when we got caught. and so about four weeks ago, I skipped class and went downtown with her. and then when we went back to school, she was really distant and stuff. and then a friendly acquantance told me she'd went around talking shit about me after she got back. which pissed me off a little. so I messaged her that evening going

me: "heyy lauren! how was your day? yeah someone just told me you talked shit about me?"

her: "well one of my friends just pointed out we dont do good things together"

me: "you mean the things you reccomend?"

her: "well I reccomend we don't be friends anymore"

me: "no I mean you recommend and ask me to do all the things your friends are warning you about."

and so I blocked her and told her to fuck off. then the next day she went around and talked shit about me AGAIN.

and she started coming up to me asking me for shit. then one day i got called into the principals office and they said "do you know of any stealing from the gas station down the street?" so I was confused. and said I didn't know. then after the made me write down I had no idea anyone I knew was stealing. then Lauren said "oh yeah they have footage of me slipping a drink in your bag when you weren't looking. but I just said I was forced to do it." obviously I was very confused and a little pissed. because I wasn't aware she put the drink into my bag. and so then I heard from one of the teachers daughters that Lauren told them I forced her to do It. so I told the principal what Lauren had told me. and she got in a lot of trouble, and in even more trouble from the teacher for lying. so then she wasn't too happy about that, and gathered a group of people (her 'friends') to lie about me. but one of the people she asked to lie about me, told me what she was going to do, so I went and talked to a deputy principal. I told a few of my friends what had happened, and she said to anyone who would listen that I was a manipulative bitch, and started dead naming me, then said me "talking shit" about her was really getting to her. then she came into school the next day with a hangover. and started saying she had 30 shots because she was sad about me. then her friends started "Warning" my friends that IM the bitch who ruins everyone's lives. and then she still has the audacity to come up to me and talk to me.

After five years of marriage, at 29, I've hit a wall. I love my husband deeply, and I believe he loves me too, but there's a creeping doubt that's hard to shake off—sexual incompatibility...

It's like an elephant in the room, lurking silently while casting an awkward shadow over our relationship. Our chemistry was undeniable when we first met; we'd tumble into bed, laughter echoing around us. But lately, things have changed. Is it normal for passion to dwindle so dramatically with passage of time? Many couples navigate shifting dynamics over time, but our situation seems different—stuck, stagnant. I can't help but wonder if the spark is gone for good or if it's just buried under life's daily grind. I googled "sexual incompatibility in marriage" and stumbled upon countless forums filled with people sharing their stories—similar yet personal experiences adorned with intimate details and advice. It was both reassuring and worrying. "Sex is not the only important part of a marriage," they say, and sure, true; but intimacy feels foundational, doesn't it? It's that unexplainable bond, and when it's missing, it's like there's a hole in the fabric of our marriage. Now, conversations have shifted from "I want you" to "I care about you," which, while sweet, lacks the fervor it once did. Often, I find myself absorbed in blogs discussing topics like libido mismatch, emotional connection, and attachment styles. The jargon is daunting but sheds light on our predicament—my higher libido struggles against his lower desire; a classic case of desire discrepancy. I've tried discussing this with him but broaching the subject feels like dancing on a tightrope, precarious and tense. Is it too much to ask for mutual attraction in a partnership? Or am I being unrealistic in my expectations? It's hard to dismiss the nagging feeling that perhaps he's no longer sexually attracted to me, even though he insists otherwise.

The emotional side of me wants to believe him, but the factual observations paint a different picture. The intimacy we once shared feels like a memory fading away into the archives of our early days. In an article, I read that long-term relationships naturally evolve into comfortable cohabitation, where physical intimacy isn't the pinnacle of the relationship anymore. But shouldn't there be some semblance of desire still? I’m constantly battling with these cerebral narratives—my mind a restless, questioning space. We’re trying to rediscover that physical connection through couple’s activities, date nights, and the occasional weekend getaway. Still, the rhythmic path from date to full-on making out seems to be missing. Every intimacy expert lists "communication" as the pinnacle of resolving sexual disinterest, yet every attempt at initiating these conversations seems to erect another barrier between us. There’s this gap, sparse as it’s growing but for how long? And on the other side are murmurs of questions and whispers of longing. It’s common to hear about the "seven-year itch," yet, here it’s an early symptom; maybe it's a phase, but how long until it becomes chronic? People change, circumstances evolve, but is this sexual standstill a temporary halt or the new normal? Our marriage wasn't purely based on sex, but I won't deny the substantial role it played in keeping the relationship vibrant and lively.

Do I settle into this newfound normalcy of companionship void of fervor, or do I strive to rekindle the flame we had? That question begets more questions, not answers. I even came across a study emphasizing that many marriages survive and thrive on shared goals, emotional bonds, and friendship. I take solace in these sentiments, yet is surviving the same as thriving? We tick many 'marital compatibility' boxes: shared values, understanding, mutual respect; yet this one unchecked box feels glaringly deficient. Sometimes, I mull over solutions—professional counseling, self-help books, rekindling personal hobbies to divert the mind. Yet, nothing offers a concrete answer, just wisps of temporary relief. Should I accept this compatibility hiccup as part of our "till death do us part" package, or strive tirelessly for change? Every now and then, I drop suggestions of change like seeds, hoping they’ll take root in our reality. Still, the ground feels resistant, the air too dry for them to grow. In this scenario, is patience love's true test, or is proactive effort the remedy? It's a conundrum—two possible paths, but one uncertain outcome. In my quiet moments, I wonder, "Am I the only one who feels this disconnect? Or is it mutual silence extending beyond words?" Should we dive deeper into the exploration of non-sexual intimacy as an alternate course, preserving the essence of our relationship through shared dreams, laughter, and camaraderie? If this is the more conducive path to navigate, how do we begin? Despite the battle within, I know and feel there’s still genuine affection and a craving for a shared future....

I am lost, help me guys...

I don't know what to do anymore

[Translated from Spanish. Reminder: IIWIARS is English only]

Good night, people....

How horrible is attachment to people, especially if you believe you can ever have a relationship.

8 months ago, I met a man 15 years older than me. From the first day I saw him, I was smitten, I loved his smile and how good he smelled.

The bad thing is that he was the boyfriend of a friend of mine.

I think I manifested everything because I imagined everything happening. I looked for the opportunity when he was fighting with his girlfriend so I could talk to him. Her number was given to me by her, who was his girlfriend, for some loans he made. Honestly, people, I know karma is going to fall on me, even though I've already shut up, but it was

stronger than me. It wasn't that difficult to interact with him (First red flag)

But we started seeing each other. No one can imagine how gentlemanly, attentive, and all around he was with me (love bombing, second red flag). The truth is, since he's so many years older than me, I didn't think he could be the same as everyone else. He was very different from the last person I'd been with. I felt like we were on the same page, but the truth is, we weren't.

Well, to all of this, I'm clear that he didn't want anything serious, but people proved the opposite. We went on a trip and had a great time until one day his ex found out we were seeing each other. She talked trash about me, and he believed her. The girl looked for me to hit me, exposed me on social media, and he asked me to break up because "I didn't really know what I wanted."

I cried for 3 days because that anguish came back from all the times my ex left me crying days and nights (third red flag).

Those three days, he slept with her, she posted stories, and they reached me.

I felt super humiliated and sad because that's when he showed his true colors. I WAS DISAPPOINTED. He asked me to talk and told me he didn't want to stop seeing me, and that was when I was LOVE BOMBED.

He would do things like eating together, going for walks, jealous scenes, sending good-morning messages every day, and commenting on every single thing I posted.

That was until he got tired of me because the attention was getting less and less.

I started to realize there was another girl besides the ex, and that he treated all three of us equally, with trips, concerts, meals, walks, jealousy, details, etc.

At one point, he started not answering me, or he would only do so every 3 or 4 hours, and the fear started to set in again. I don't know what the fear is, but it drove me crazy. They kept ringing the phone to see if he'd talk to me, and if he didn't, tears would automatically fall. I don't understand why, but it's something that develops on its own, and sadness sets in. Until finally, he spoke to me and his soul returned to my body.

The day came when I got married, and I put him to the test. I exaggerated a little, but I was sure I wanted to get out of there no matter what because anxiety was eating away at me.

I blocked him from everywhere because I believed that would work my attachment and at the same time, I would see his reaction.

I couldn't last a week. During that week, I was in bed for two days, vomiting for three, and feeling very ill. My body spoke volumes. I asked him to talk, and his response was that he was going on a trip and that he would call me that night. I waited until 1:00 in the morning by the phone. He never called me back.

I can't explain how bad I felt. He rejected all the attention I had paid him, even though I hadn't done anything wrong. He had gone off with the other girl. He destroyed every hope I had, and he never called me again.

(I don't know how many red flags I'm throwing)

I couldn't stand not being able to talk, not being able to see him. I needed him, until I called him crying, telling him how bad he made me feel.

His response was: "I apologize, but I don't have any feelings for you. That doesn't mean I don't want to see you anymore."

And I accepted their feelings just to be there. I can't express the ups and downs of emotions I'm going through. I can't get out of there, and I'm not having a good time either. I feel like if I walk away, I'll go through that whole painful process again, and I don't want to. Today, they haven't spoken to me all day, and neither have I. But I'm the one who maintains the connection because I'm always the one who makes the first conversation and the one who asks to meet up.

How do I get out of here, God? Sometimes I really pray to meet someone else, but nothing calls to me.

I know that no matter what they say, it's going to be a nightmare. I just want to skip the sad part.

[Translated from Spanish. Reminder: IIWIARS is English only]

I've reached this point of truly feeling the need to feel a knife pass through my arms or what a chokehold might feel like. I think a lot about what would happen? Would they notice or not? That I really needed a little more of my family, my friends, their support, a visit from my dad, and support from my brothers if I were sick and alone with two children. Would the boy I love and who's driving me crazy feel a little more guilt for not listening to me a little more?

I feel like I'm teaching everyone a life lesson.

There are days that go by and by, and I don't receive a single message from anyone asking how I am? How are my daughters?

I am a very determined woman. With a lot of balls, I support everything alone, I raise my daughters, and that's admirable to the outside world because they keep telling me that. But I feel like a failure. I'm not happy. I feel bad about myself because I feel like I could give twice as much and I'd be better, but I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE! And you know what's worse, I'm a street vendor and I'm always smiling, I make jokes all the time, sometimes there are days when a lot of people tell me, "I love your good vibes," and I feel good, but when it's time to get home, tired, from cleaning, from cooking, from hearing my daughters screaming, crying, everything dirty, clothes everywhere, animal poop...

That's when I do. I want to die, and it's that feeling of running away and disappearing forever.

I know everyone will think and say, "Think of your daughters!" And if that's why I haven't made the decision yet, but it's something I think about a lot.

I don't need help because I have my psychologist, but I can't bring myself to tell her all this because I'm a woman who's recovered from drugs, and it's embarrassing to tell her that I'm feeling more and more depressed because she saved me from the cesspool I couldn't get out of, and I feel like I'm failing the only person who listens to me.

Well, it's just something I think about every day, but I've never been able to tell anyone about it because I think people who have that thought just do it! And then everyone wonders why?

I'm so inlove with this Nigerian guy that I gave him $300 .. next week he wants to propose so he wants $200 😍😍😍 the love of my life.

I don't even know if this counts as a story, but I'm gonna put it here anyways. I've been productive all week in terms of schoolwork! Supposedly good, right? Wrong, cuz apparently I haven't been productive enough, and I still have a ton of stuff to do! Even worse, all the due dates are lining up to be tomorrow at midnight. Not stressful at all. Definitely not. Definitely not paralyzed by it all, and thus driving myself into an even worse hole. Two enthusiastic thumbs up...

I'm up for any tips to help, like legit anything.

And here's the question ig: What would ya'll think if this was in a reality show?

me and my boyfriend had a situation recently he joined University for studies and being busy with it I m happy for him but he is responding less and less idk if he loosing interest in me.

I was so paranoid that we had fight a day ago he was responding sluggishly in the fight that making me more conscious that he is loosing interest or spark is lost.

idk it's because of long distance or something else he also have few gay friends.

we use to share insta password but after the fight he did logged out n now don't even sees my text although we had chatted in a call but it was done by me n not him..

please help someone to understand am i being paranoid or I'm being reasonable enough to ask my boyfriend for some attention.

You might be gay for commenting sht on my posts

Do you know that feeling when you’re dreaming, and suddenly you’re falling, then you jerk awake like your whole body just snapped? I want to know if anyone else actually experiences this because lately it’s happening to me several times every single night, and it never used to be like this. I’m not talking about that occasional twitch most people joke about—you know, when your body jolts once and you laugh it off. This is constant, it’s repetitive, and it’s so intense that it feels like my brain has turned into some kind of defective machine that keeps hitting the emergency eject button. I wake up with my heart racing, drenched in sweat, like I just got thrown off a building mid-dream. And it’s not once, it’s not twice, but six, seven, sometimes eight times per night. It destroys any chance of real rest. I’ve done the basic checks: no late caffeine, no screens blasting in my face, no major stress spike, not even any alcohol. None of that matters. It still happens. I’ve been reading around—doctors and articles love to call it “hypnic jerk,” or they classify it under parasomnia or throw in phrases like “nocturnal myoclonus.” All that jargon does is dress up the fact that your body decides to violently boot you out of sleep like a system crash. One medical review I came across said, “most individuals report these episodes as harmless,” which is honestly insulting. Would you call it harmless if your own body tricked you into thinking you were dying by falling every night? That word doesn’t fit at all. It feels hostile, rude, and like my nervous system is playing a sick joke at my expense.

And the more I think about it, the angrier I get. On one hand, I can go all technical and detached: it’s probably my nervous system misfiring, some mix-up between the vestibular system in my inner ear and the brain’s perception of stillness. I could cite “Mahowald and Schenck (2005)” or the International Classification of Sleep Disorders, which catalog this crap like items on a warehouse shelf. But honestly, that doesn’t help me at 3 a.m. when I’m yanked awake for the fifth time in a row, staring at the ceiling and wondering if I’ll ever sleep like a normal human again. One paper described it as “heightened sympathetic activation,” which is medical speak for “your fight-or-flight system won’t shut the hell up.” Great, thanks, I already knew my body was panicking. What I want to know is: does anyone else deal with it this often? I don’t mean occasionally, I mean systemically, like it’s been programmed into your nights. Do you just accept it, or does it drive you as crazy as it drives me? I feel detached even as I write this, but the truth is that it’s wrecking me. It’s ruining my ability to get restorative sleep, wrecking my circadian rhythm, and making me wake up already exhausted. I’m not here to be sentimental or dramatic—I’m just being direct about how much this is screwing with me. And yet, it still feels absurd to even type this out, because how do you complain about your own body deciding to simulate free-fall every single night? But here I am, frustrated, pissed, and stuck with it. If you’ve felt the same, you know exactly why I had to vent it out here. And if you haven’t, lucky you. For me, the best I can sum it up in one image is this stupid emoji: 😑.

It was just probably my imagination or just probably delusional about it lol

Hey guys, I've got something to get off my chest. I'm 17, a dude, and somehow managed to have zero friends at school. Like, it seriously sucks, ya know? I was hoping to find a squad to hang out with, but here I am ranting here on a website I didn''t know before; thank God I found it... Anyway, I thought I'd share my thoughts and see if anyone else has been in the same boat or has some advice.

So, here's the deal. Every day it's the same old story. I walk into class, do my thing, and then it's goodbye till tomorrow. It's boring and sometimes I feel like a ghost in the hallways. No one notices me and I don't know how to change that. I tried to join a club or two, but it was awkward, and I just ended up standing around feeling even more out of place. It's hard, you know? Everyone has their groups, and it's like trying to break into a secret society or something.

Feeling this way gets me thinking – maybe it's just me. When I do get the courage to speak, usually, words come out all wrong. Man, it's frustrating! I bet someone out there gets what I'm trying to say, right? Sometimes I wonder if I'm too picky or if I have some kind of "this guy is a misfit" vibe. It's not like I'm asking for much. I'd be happy to find just one guy or girl who shares an interest or two. Just someone to laugh at dumb jokes with or hang out at the mall. No drama, no big fanfare; just simple friendship, ya know?

I've decided not to give up, though. I mean, being 17 and having no friends isn't a life sentence. There's gotta be a way out of this solo game. Maybe I'll try some new stuff, like helping out with an event or revitalizing the library's comic section. I've heard stories of people finding mates by doing those random things, so why not? Plus, I could use some good karma; might as well put myself out there and see what happens. "You'll reap what you sow," they say. I'm clinging to that wisdom right now.

Anyway, at the end of the day, I've realized I'm definitely not alone in feeling like this. And truthfully, that makes it a bit easier to bear. I'm sticking with an open mind and being hopeful. If this has taught me anything, it's patience. Oh, and to those out there who feel the same; just hang in there, don’t let it get you down. Your future friends might be right around the corner, just waiting for you to notice them. The world’s big and there's someone out there who's looking for a friend like you too. So yeah, keep your head up, and maybe throw a smile to someone next time – could be the start of something.

so, I'm sixteen and I've spent most of my life following the teachings of my very religious family and church. they've always been super strict about what they call "the righteous path", and honestly, it's been drilled into my head that straying too far might be bad. but lately, I've found myself really intrigued by tattoos. it's not like I want a ton of them, just maybe something small and personal. a part of me is whispering that it's a chance to express myself in a way I never have before. but, is that a sin? Leviticus 19:28 flashes in my mind, where it mentions not making cuttings in your flesh for the dead, nor tattoo any marks on you. does this mean I'm stepping off the approved path by even considering it?

the tricky part is balancing my beliefs and this kind of rebellious curiosity. my family would probably hit the roof if they even caught wind of my interest in tattoos. they might think I’m trying to turn my back on everything they've taught me. the fact that tattoos are often seen as taboo in religious circles only makes it harder to figure out what I should do. I've heard it said that "our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit", so does altering them with ink disrespect that? or is it more about the intention behind why someone gets a tattoo that's right or wrong? it's confusing, and I'm torn between the urge to express individuality and the fear of straying from my faith's teachings.

ultimately, I'm just trying to find a middle ground where I can respect my upbringing while also exploring new interests. being a teenager, I guess it's part of growing up to question things and seek out what feels true for me personally. maybe tattoos are one of those many ways people try to express themselves, but are they worth potentially going against the norm I've grown up with? is this just a phase or an actual part of who I am? 🤔 I haven't made any decisions yet, still mulling it over. but I wonder if anyone else has been in a similar spot? questioning the role of tattoos in the world of faith is tough, no clear answer in sight...

When i was young I had a few inappropriate sexual encounters that I think have ruined me more than I realized. As an adult I'm addicted to porn. Not only that, when I first got the internet I was exposed to everything. Gore, porn, underage porn, everything. Now when I'm online I feel like I turn into a numb zombie, with a one track mind. a ride I can't get off, there is no escape and I feel like death is the only way to redeem myself or put an end to these compulsions.

As an adult I spend more time finding porn than actually looking at it. for the last few years I have been trying to find new, different stuff to be excited about. This has turned into me losing control. When the idea pops in my head I jump into the passenger seat of my own mind. I feel like I have no control. I start digging, grey out, then come back to reality, disgusted, depressed, and frantic.

I spend most of my waking hours depressed, frantic, and paranoid. The addiction is no longer fun or satisfying. it is a pure compulsive behavior and I really don't know what to do. The reason for the extreme guilt and disgust is due to the sites I visit. I've always sought amateur Webcam type content, I think traditional porn is too fake. the problem is some of the sites I found with this type of content had underage content. In the moment, it doesn't bother me, afterwards I want to die.

in reality those thoughts are not in my mind. I have come to the conclusion that I seem to be addicted to "finding something not meant to be found" or even worse, im addicted to depression. when i feel good about myself, have a good day or get some kind of self confidence boost, it sends me into a spiral and I feel like i need to remind myself im a huge piece of shit and kick me down where I need to be.

i have never saved or shared any illegal content, the disturbing thing is if you just google the right words everything is easy to find and access. I cant tell anyone, I even started therapy but can't speak the real truth. I don't even know if this is truly anynoymous, at this point I feel like turning myself into the police just so I can be removed from all access to the internet. I don't believe im a bad person, I don't actually have perverse thoughts about doing anything taboo. I'm just addicted to digging into the depths of the internet, getting disgusted with myself, and finding a valid reason to end my own life.

ill probably get judged here, but i really need advice on how to be the person I truly am and get rid of this monster taking over my brain.

cw: suicidal ideation, self harm, descriptions of abuse + masochism, possibly CSA (I’m not trying to claim its in the traditionally severe form so I’m sorry if it seems that way to ppl who have endured that), I just need somewhere to get an outside view of what’s happening with me. Be safe

I’m 15, trans guy but born female. I was a fundamentally bad, defiant child that was the defining thing about me so my mom used to be super abusive in a few ways to kindve stomp the defiance out of me . But the one that stuck with me was when she was supposed to be spanking me as punishment (though I think it had been over trivial matters. as if everything I said or did was destined to be wrong, I truly don't understand the reasons why she did it). I know well she’s not creepy nor a bad mother, she didn’t intend for me to take it this way and I promise I don’t wanna take it this way either because it’s been really humiliating, but the way she executed it (and intense ways I reacted to it over the years) ive realized as some strange form of sexual abuse. it’s not that I have any vivid picture memories, (my memory of my childhood is garbage as demonstrated time and time again) but I know it happened extremely often. I know the components I didn’t omit of the spankings to be true in these procedural bullet points. And its really nauseated me to think about she forced me to strip naked always and lay on her bed and would yk slap me relentlessly on the ass and if I tried to run shed chase me down, she wouldn’t let me leave her room, and if I cried she’d go harder till I shut up no matter how much I pleaded with her. After, I think she’d send me away from everyone and shun me. I omitted this next part but my brother(21) told me she had this stupid table tennis object she used too and wrote my name on it in bold and hung it on her wall for me to stare at perpetually, my grandma had one aswell but I only remembered that part I didn’t know my mother did too. I guess im sensitive, but my entire being’s always felt ‘off’ or just violated by this even if it wasn’t meant how I took it.

And I never ever saw her hurt my brother the way she did me (he confirmed she didn’t) so I hated all of them. I felt they legitimately wanted me specifically to die because of this. I talked to my brother about it when it came up more recently and even he claimed what she did wasn’t normal and he seemed concerned about how much I didn’t remember about it, he said I was a rough kid but I never deserved that. It shouldn't be a big deal since it’s been a few years, I’ve become a better person but it lowk ruined my mental health for most of my life and I just never felt safe or loved at home, like little me tried to lay in the street and get hit by a car and shit so I didn’t have to be punished that way again during times my brother threatened to tell her something. When that didn’t bode well I got affiliated with older people who had bad intentions, like my groomer/s who actually did sexually abuse me, so I could feel more loved or hurt, just better about myself in any capacity cuz they didn’t have high standards to love me. I felt worlds more comforted with them. I still do when I think about it.

I was averse to people touching me for years because it felt like touch physically burned me. Being intimate with others in general, honesty and expressing emotions has always been excruciatingly hard for me, it's so much more natural to suppress them, and I just despised her, especially even the slightest brush against me. This extended to things like anyone saying my name. It grated on my ears because of the way she called it, which is part of why I hate my deadname so much. My anger and shame and despair over everything was just left to fester.

I think the physical stuff stopped after I turned 12 but it was too late. I was already so so aggressive, the soul was pretty much sucked out of my corpse. I've felt like a dead guy walking for most of my years. I would homicidally ideate about killing her (I would never!!). all my friends who’ve known me before online school have been hit by me in some capacity. One kid, I feel so bad about him but he threw this frisby in my direction and it happened to hit me, and when he laughed it set me off so I genuinely beat him with the frisby till he was crying. and I was laughing until i got horrified by what I just did enough to try to take it back. I knew that I had scarred him in a way I had no right. Some kids at my school were truly scared of me and I felt better when they were scared cuz I could act like I was someone big and bad with a kind of control or power when I really wasn’t powerful at all. When I used to talk about being an awful person that was what I meant.

And I’ve had such conflicting urges toward what she did . When she finally stopped I found myself wishing she picked it back up again because I liked the sensations my thoughts accustomed to the spankings/feeling. I’m asexual and being harmed has been the only thing that can make me feel any sort of arousal now, and through that is the only way I’ve been able to manage my emotions about it. It’s developed into weird sexual fantasies about people hurting me in so many ways which have been impacting my ability to function normally since I was 12. im really masochistic now, always wanting to be hurt further whether through using SH or other people and ill be willing to put myself at risk as a consequence. I assume this might have been the cause of my history of violent/taboo sexual addictions when I was wayyy too young to even understand their impact. it wasnt good.

Furthermore, all this is kindve the reason our relationship is fractured in my eyes even though she’s really not doing anything wrong anymore. you can tell she’s a good mom and she’s trying her best as I’ve tried my best with all my might to forget but it’s so hard to act like that didnt happen and that I’m not broken and that being broken hasn't ruined most of my life. I’ve tried to talk about it with her in the past but she vehemently denied it and mocked me. it’s truly cemented that I’ve been hung up all these years over nothing and I don’t know why it won’t go away.

It’s not fair for me to hold this unrelenting animosity toward her sometimes but I’ve been miserable and it shows. maybe im just looking to point fingers for why I’m so fucked up but my heads making sooo much racket all the time I really wish it didn’t have to be like this and I didn’t have to be like this. There will never be a guy that hates his essence more than I do. I’ve tried to change from this, to stay happy and love everyone as much as I can. they call me sunshine, but everytime I get some time alone to think I’m just reminded how much I can’t live with myself, and im trying to hold on so tight and move on and be the brightest but I feel like my light only gets dimmer the longer I keep pushing. I wish i stayed in that half dead stupor sometimes because now that I’m alive again everything hurts sooo much I’m always pushed over the edge by one thing or another. But sincerely thank you for listening if you took the time to read this far, use me as an example NOT to spank your kids qwq

Summary: the reactions I had to spanking and the effects on my mental health have seemed disproportionately disturbing compared to the experience most people describe so lightly, I seemed to take it as something sexually violating and ruining, has anyone else felt the same about theirs or had similar experiences?