Life Stories and Everyday Drama - page 24

I have a friend I'll be calling W.

So I woke up this morning with a huge headache, which ended up being a migraine I'd been expiriancing all week. I could harfly move without immense pain in my skull, and it just got worse throughout the day.

At some point, I had to go to the nurses's office and get my mom to pick me up because of how bad it was getting. My mom took me to the doctor's and the doctor themself said that if the medication she gives us doesn't work then I will probably need to get an IV due to how bad it is. I texted this to my friend (who was still at school at the time) just so they would know why I had to leave.

I have to take days off school a lot because I often get really sick (Mainly during the spring because apparently thats a thing), which W gets kind of mad at me for. They usually play it off as 'your grades will plummit' but a few times they've been downright pissed (theres also quitea few things I don't pick up on because I have autism escpecially with text messages, so there could be something I'm completely missing).

When my friend got back and talked about the whole failing classes thing again, I said I understood but I physically was about to black out. I kind of made a joke about myself not having a strong immune system (because jokes are how I've been coping with stuff for a few years now, and it's nothing new to my friend group because two other people do it too) and thats when they went off. they said I was too busy laughing to care about other people, which kind of confused me because they're usually the one making fun of my weak immune system. I told W I wanted to stay at school but was going to black out, but then they started talking about how it's not their job to 'make me perfect' which honestly confused me even more. They also said how they shouldn't be pointing out my mistakes (as in ones with relationships I think) which just made me even more confused because up until then they'd always talk about how I had to fix those things, which I tried really hard to do. I don't at all understand why it's such a bad thing I had to leave because of the migraines if I was going to pass out, and I don't know what to say to them/if I should say anything, or if I should even go to school tomorrow (a part of me of me secretly kind of hopes that I do have to miss due to the migraines and having to be in the hospital or wherever just so I can prove the migraines aren't just some headache like they think they are).

I have no clue what to do now, I'm scared of loosing this friend, and my head is still killing me.

I don't know why I had to endure the treatment I endured. I feel like I lived surrounded by pure monsters, by people who wanted to change my life, who didn't love me. I don't know why I had to live through something like that. What did I do to the world to have to live through something like that? I had to put everyone in their place. It's as if they'd been waiting a long time for the day this would happen. I'd never seen such vengeful intent on the part of my family. I feel like it was the worst, on the part of medicine, on the part of the world.

I didn't understand why the hell the world turned against me. What did I do? I just wanted to be free from everyone. Why this eagerness to grab me? Do they think that because I'm a family member, I'm doomed to receive their punishment? They're all crazy. How many after-effects didn't they leave me with? How much did I have to write to survive the after-effects? So that these things wouldn't affect me in the future. And the psychiatrist ignores this! Why did I have to walk the path alone again? I don't understand. I feel like this is a very real reality for me. I'm having a hard time processing it fully.

It brings tears to my eyes. Why did I have to fight with my family? My departure was supposed to have made them reflect on their principles, but they weren't even capable of that. They only reflected on some brutal things, trying to figure out how to intervene with me. How could I be like this? Why the hell did I encounter such a bunch of macabre people? How long will I have to live putting them in their place? Don't they have the capacity to reflect? To learn? What the hell is wrong with them? Do you have problems there or something?

It can't be that I left for three years and these people only got worse. I can't believe it. They hit me, once, twice, three times, and now a fourth time. Who the hell needs to go to a psychiatrist? Me or them? It's clear they have serious behavioral problems. The same things happen again and again. They lack the ability to learn, they seek to do things secretly, seeking to do more harm. Why do these people only improve, leading them astray? Until when? Is it that a case in them cannot be trusted? Where is the education? I find it hard to believe that this I found is a family of mine. Personally, I say it, I admit it, it can't be that I found it, it's my blood. I can't believe this is my blood. Once again, pushing them aside, to the side, happened again. Until when?

I ask myself: Do these individuals really want family? Do these individuals really want to be with me? Where is the desire that verifies it? Where is the affection? It can't be that they're going back to the same mistakes as before. It can't be. It's clear that they don't want to get out of the same situation they're in with me. They're just making excuses, they don't want to be with me, but I've had enough of them. I've given them plenty of opportunities to change; it's been enough.

I feel totally disappointed in my family members. And not just in them, but in the doctors too, who clearly haven't reflected one bit on what happened, nothing short of a sad act of heroism. Where is a reflective world? It's impossible that no one has shared the cause of this explosion with them, it can't be. And they're healthcare workers! I can't stand these professionals any longer. Do they know how to socialize? If that's the case, it should apply to all cases, not just a select few. It's in diversity that things are seen. But what do I have to do with them? I don't see anything, I don't see effort, I don't see reflection. Where is the brainpower to move the world forward?

I feel deeply outraged. It's impossible that to this day someone suggested I celebrate Mother's Day again, as an adult, and also without knowing the circumstances, and also as someone who cares for children, and not just her, but also another who is a teacher. Why have I surrounded myself with these kinds of people? Where's the capacity for reflection? Are we just going to support the maintenance of a family structure? What if it's a façade, as is often the case, for the perpetuation of crime by one of its thousands of agents? Where's even the conscience of the citizenry? Frankly, I don't understand.

Is this what many people I've grown accustomed to wanted in people? These people are capable of bringing down a country. Am I going to be with them? For that, I'd rather pack my bags and leave forever, or at least, if I were to experience that, have the satisfaction of knowing that it was going to happen, and then formulate a support plan, but only by following the matter closely. That's being preemptive! Why does no one want to see that? Is that why no one wants to know what's going on in the environment, the people there? I mean, do I have to join them in that fall? It's not fair, I don't have to pay for the unconsciousness of others.

So, here I am, sitting in my messy room, trying to figure out if I’m just some person who’s a little slow on the uptake when it comes to feelings or if I’m actually asexual. To be honest, I really don’t know. I mean, I’m 17, and all my friends are out there exploring their “sexual awakenings” or whatever they call it, but for me, it’s like a big ol’ void. Like, I don’t even know what I’m missing. I get that everyone’s on this wild ride of hormones and romantic entanglements, and there’s me, standing on the sidelines like I’m stuck at a video game level that won’t load. My friends casually toss around terms like “crush” and “hookup” while I'm over here thinking, “why bother?” It’s like I’m reading a manual in a different language that nobody thought to translate for me.

The other day, my buddy was all hyped up about this girl he liked, and he was telling me what he thought would happen. He kept dropping lines about “chemistry” and “sparks,” and I just couldn’t relate. Every time I hear someone say, “you’ll know when it happens,” I roll my eyes so hard I’m surprised I don’t see my brain. I mean, what does that even mean? Do I need to sacrifice a goat or something to get this so-called “spark”? I’ve tried to be interested; I’ve flicked through dating apps, swiped here and there, and honestly, it feels like a chore. Like, I’m trying to watch a movie that everyone claims is a masterpiece, but I’m just sitting there wondering when the good part starts. My mind wanders to the definition of asexuality, and I catch myself thinking that maybe I fit that description. But then I wonder—am I just overthinking, or is it real? Am I just taking a little longer to get to the party?

I’ve read enough articles, seen plenty of videos to know that asexuality isn’t just “being picky” or something you grow out of when you hit puberty; it's a legitimate orientation. But it gnaws at me. Am I really asexual or just a late bloomer who’s scared of rejection? I mean, every time the topic of sex comes up, my brain goes into this autopilot mode where I’m nodding along, but inside I’m just screaming, “This isn't for me!” It feels like I’m meant to be a part of this club, but they won’t let me through the door, and I’m honestly starting to think I might not even want to go in. Maybe that’s the crux of it—this nagging feeling that says, “why do I have to be labeled at all?” So, dear reader, I turn this back to you: Am I asexual, just confused, or frankly, who cares? Do you ever feel this disconnect, or is it just me spiraling down this rabbit hole?

It's been five long years since that fateful day when my entire world was turned upside down. I vividly recall sitting on the couch, mindlessly flipping through channels, when an unexpected call shattered the fragile sense of calm. My best friend, the one I confided in and celebrated countless milestones with, had crossed the ultimate line—he stole my wife. I was blindsided, left grappling with a whirlwind of emotions—betrayal, anger, and profound sadness. Now, out of the blue, he’s reaching out, claiming he misses our friendship. As I contemplate this peculiar situation, I find myself wrestling with the fundamental question: how does one forgive someone for such a monumental transgression? 🤔

The wounds inflicted by that betrayal run deep, making it difficult for me to even entertain the notion of rekindling any semblance of a relationship. A close friend once told me, “Forgiveness is not about the other person; it’s about you.” This thought lingers in my mind as I resist the urge to react impulsively. Is forgiveness synonymous with condoning his actions? I often wonder if I am ready to welcome that kind of emotional vulnerability back into my life. Perhaps he truly has had a change of heart, and yet that doesn’t erase the pain of lost trust and shattered expectations. I also reflect on the impact this could have on my personal development. After all, holding onto bitterness can be like drinking poison and expecting the other person to suffer. Yet, will I be strong enough to let go?

Admittedly, the idea of forgiveness is a double-edged sword, tantalizing yet terrifying. I can’t help but ponder the concept of second chances. Are we not all human, prone to error? If I were to grant my friend the opportunity to explain himself, would I be unearthing potential for closure or merely reopening old wounds? I sit here, weighing the delicate balance between self-preservation and compassion. Ultimately, I want to be optimistic—perhaps this is a moment to reflect on personal growth. Could this be the pivotal moment that propels me towards healing? Ultimately, I aim to navigate these turbulent waters with an open heart. Have you ever found yourself in a similar situation? How did you manage to forgive someone who caused you immense pain?

Vent. My mom's going on a diet to loose weigh (and She's becoming slightly obsessive and weird about It, but whatever. It's her choice and i'm assuming She made her research) i'm also overweight, probably around her same weight (90/95 kg) and she wanted me to follow her on this diet ( to which i said no. Multiple times.) and to install a calorie tracking app. (She says she didn't but i'm not deaf and i ain't dumb. She often changes her words last minute when She realizes She upsets someone) I didn't really have a way to answer since She was fast about It and i installed It to supporto her. But honestly I want nothing to do with this. I like to cook and i want to eat what i'm in the Mood for. Plus i'm honestly not in a good headspace for this. There's a lot going on right now. I'm overwhelmed and burntout from school. Really tired. Struggling with sleep and Hygiene and workload and productivity. I'm working on building a nice space for myself, forming good habits, taking care of myself and creating a routine to study and have good grades. Plus. It's a fact. I like to eat. I like to cook. And sometimes i'm so low, exhausted and stressed out that my comfort foods are the only thing keeping me together. I don't want to be unsupportive but i'm so tired of hearing her talk about this. She's been talking about non Stop for weeks. And i'm not headspace to try It or even listen to her anymore. I'm so done. But now i feel so evil for snapping at her.

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?

it’s been three months since she told me it was over, and I honestly thought I would be better by now. you know, like the typical advice you see everywhere? “time heals all wounds” and “you’ll find someone better”? I guess I've just come to terms with the fact that those phrases are easier said than lived. every day feels like I’m dragging a heavy anchor, and my mind constantly races back to the moments we shared. I can still picture her laughter, her smile, and the way she used to play with her hair while deep in thought. I often wonder if that’s just how life goes, one minute you're on top of the world and the next you’re stuck reminiscing about how things used to be. I’ve tried to distract myself with friends or hobbies, but it’s like there’s this invisible wall that keeps me from truly engaging; some people say that it’s all about perspective while others might argue it's more about acceptance, but I’m stuck somewhere in the middle, caught in a labyrinth of my own emotions.

as I navigate through this post-breakup haze, I’ve read a lot about the psychological phenomena related to breakups—terms like the ‘attachment theory’ and ‘emotional dependency’ come to mind. they make sense in a clinical way, but experiencing them firsthand is a different beast altogether. I mean, how does someone just move on as if nothing happened? it’s as though they possess an emotional GPS that guides them toward greener pastures while I'm still in this perpetual state of searching for a signal. some days, my phone buzzes with messages from friends suggesting new activities or meetups, but I find myself declining more often than not—it's like I'm afraid that any bit of joy I could feel would pale in comparison to the happiness we once had, which is a weird kind of self-sabotage. I often find myself analyzing my past interactions, wondering if it was something I said or did that spiraled us into this situation—was I too clingy, too distant, or did I just not pick up on the subtle signs of her impending discontent?

I’m here questioning the timeline of recovery for breakups, and how long does it actually take to get over someone? I wish I had a definitive answer rather than these endless Google searches leading nowhere. some say it takes the same time as the relationship lasted, while others suggest that it’s all individual; but I have to admit, still feeling heartache after three months feels like I’m lagging behind in a race where everyone else has already crossed the finish line. there are moments I catch myself daydreaming about what could have been, or I find myself scrolling through old pictures of us smiling, but instead of fueling healing, they only deepen my sorrow. maybe I’m just a romantic at heart or maybe I’ve built an idealized version of what we had, but the reality is, I'm struggling. I’ve learned that time does play a critical role in healing, yet it’s also about self-acceptance and allowing yourself to feel all the emotions that come with loss. sometimes I find solace in journaling my thoughts, like I'm laying the baggage down little by little. any tips on how to let go would be appreciated; even a friendly reminder to keep pushing forward would go a long way. 🥺

I'm currently at work. I do research for a travel provider in my local area. Today I was interviewing passengers on the metro system but before I can start, I have to count all the passengers that come through my assigned door. I was mid-count when one of our ticket inspectors told me to move for a disabled passenger because I was standing in the wheelchair area absentmindedly. She pulled a face and gave me dirty looks for the remainder of her time on the metro and was doing the same when she got off. It wasn't a major issue and I moved immediately because I was in the way but her tone and glaring made me so angry. I wanted to scream at her and hit something. I just wanted to explode and it was completely out of proportion. Then on the same trip we had a fare dodger who refused to leave when he was caught. The team members let him stay on the metro despite travelling without a valid fare. I was mad at the staff for giving up so easily but I just wanted to attack the dodger. I'm a fair large person and all I could picture in my head was repeatedly kicking this man in the head. Again, irrational anger. The staff are not obligated to remove fare dodgers when they get aggressive, which he was. And wanting to beat a man to death for being a cheap, scumbag is excessive. But I keep having these thoughts of disproportionate rage whenever a situation arises. I regularly fantasize about murdering my neighbour after he threatened me a year ago. What the hell is wrong with me?

So here I am, 23 years old, sitting on my couch at 6 AM, scrolling through my phone like the rest of the world, and I can’t help but wonder if doing some morning yoga could actually help me chill out a bit, you know? Work has been an absolute circus lately—endless deadlines, demanding bosses, and that annoying coworker who “just loves to chat” while I’m trying to concentrate! Ugh! On top of that, my home life isn't exactly a zen garden either. It’s like a tornado of chores, family drama, and oh, let’s not forget the never-ending battle with my own mental health; I don’t need to tell you how exhausting that can be. Someone once said, “When you find peace within yourself, you become the kind of person who can live at peace with others.” Is that true? Because at this point, I’d just like to be at peace without screaming at the top of my lungs. I keep hearing about how morning yoga is supposed to be this miracle cure-all for stress, but honestly, I can’t get over my own skepticism. I mean, sure, there’s something appealing about stretching out my tight muscles, especially when I’ve been hunched over my laptop for way too long—but will it really help? Every time I think about it, I picture myself in a yoga class, all zen and serene, looking like a complete novice! Have you seen how those yoga influencers contort themselves? Like, what even is that? And let’s not forget the smell of essential oils—it’s either heavenly or a total headache! I can just imagine showing up with my “I do yoga” sweatpants and completely whiffing a pose. People in the room would probably roll their eyes at me. “Girl, just breathe,” they’d probably whisper while I’m over there struggling to keep my balance. Yet, I feel like I should give it a try. Couldn’t I use a bit of that whole “namaste” vibe in my chaotic life? But then I wonder: could I actually commit to doing it regularly? I’m already 10 minutes late to everything, and adding a morning yoga routine to my schedule seems like a tall order, doesn’t it? I could see it now: me, madly trying to fit in downward dog before I rush out the door, only to be late again because I lost track of time trying to “find my center.” Lo and behold, my chaotic mornings would just get more chaotic! Would it really set a positive tone for the rest of my day, or just make me more irritable when I can’t get everything done in time? So many questions! I could just start with simple stretches at home—maybe throw on a YouTube video and pretend I know what I'm doing, right? They say even a few minutes of mindfulness can lead to better stress management; just breathe and focus, they say. But I find it hard to relax when my mind races with a thousand thoughts about what I didn’t do and what I still need to do. Like, why is life such a juggling act? Is it too much to ask for a little bit of balance? Probably, because let’s face it: my life has been more of a tightrope walk than a yoga class! I can't even tell you how often I've tried to squeeze in self-care, and yet, here I am, still feeling wound up like a string on a bow. But, as I delve more into this whole yoga idea, there's this nagging voice in my head pushing me to try something new, you know? "Step out of your comfort zone," it whispers. Maybe I really could use some calm in my mornings, even if I end up looking ridiculous and flailing about as my cat watches on, probably judging me, has anyone ever felt that? For some weird reason, I feel like I owe it to myself to at least give morning yoga a shot; who knows, it might even make me a better person at work and home. Plus, wouldn't it be awesome to actually have a chill start to the day instead of bursting out the door like a caffeinated squirrel? I'm still on the fence about it—do I really want to give it a go, or just keep watching random memes on my phone until the last second? Maybe if I push myself to get up a lil' early? I mean, the thought of being able to say I do yoga does sound kind of badass. And hey, I’m all about trying to make my chaotic life feel a little less chaotic; is it crazy to think that morning yoga might just hold the answer I've been looking for? Anyone out there make it work in their routine? I need help deciding here; should I take the plunge and roll out a mat, or keep dreaming of that blissful morning peace while I slip back into the chaos that is my reality?

Myself and my husband have been waiting for a new build house and currently living with my father.

One of the items we discussed getting was a tumble dryer for the house. Given that the flat I have just sold had some damp issues (but not major ones) we bought a heater dryer and we also had a combo washer dryer. (The dryer we hardly used because it had no temperature control and liked to melt things)

So we have discussed getting a tinkle dryer so that we don’t have the same issues in a brand new home. Plus this is so much water that goes into building a new home we have been told to let it breathe for 2 years after building and purchase. Plus we l won’t have radiators downstairs as we will have under floor heating and an air source heat pump.

So no damp clothes lying around. My mother in law (MIL) is very anti tumble dryers because I quote they are a waste of money and I didn’t have one and don’t have one blanket, so you don’t need one. To be fair she had 4 kids is retired bookkeeper and myFIL had a tight grip on the finances.

My husband and I are going to get one and last time I saw her I told her that we weren’t asking her for the money towards it in lieu of presents for birthdays and Christmas. That I don’t need her approval to get one that we could afford one that over selves. Last time I saw her, when I told her this she got up in my face and was quite agressive. I told my husband who did say the reasons why we wanted one as well that next time she brings the house up that he needed to with her.

We are due to see them after a while (they have been away) at the weekend and I am feeling a bit apprehension about it.

All the while we are also a trying to start a family and it’s just a bit much. I think I might snap if she says anything and I don’t want to be mean. But it’s not her decision or her house or her life. We are trying for a family and haven’t told many people.

Okay, so like, why does everyone hate me? Seriously, I don’t get it! I mean, I try to just vibe and be chill, but whenever I walk into a room, everyone looks at me like I’ve got three heads or something. It’s NOT cool, honestly! The other day in class, I said something about how I thought the cafeteria pizza was, like, gourmet or whatever, and everyone burst out laughing. I totally didn’t mean to sound like an idiot—but hey, who doesn’t love cheesy carbs?! They went on about how I’m delusional or whatever and even my so-called friends were laughing too. Not a single person backed me up. Totally feels like being a ghost in my own life. I mean, I heard one popular girl whisper, “Ugh, she thinks she’s so funny,” right in front of me. Like, what’s up with that? Can’t we just have a little fun without being judged? This one time, I was just chillin’ on my phone, and this dude walked up to me and asked if I was looking for a friend; I didn’t know if that was a compliment or shade? It’s exhausting, man! I just don’t understand how these people can be so cruel over nothing! Why can’t we just be nice to each other? If you think I’m weird, just say it, don't make it a group thing; people suck!

But then, like, I was scrolling through TikTok, right? And I saw this girl talking about how people hated her too, and she said, “Their opinions don’t matter, just live your best life!” Suddenly, I felt inspired. Like, maybe it’s not me, maybe it’s them! I mean, who died and made them the rulers of the universe? I’m just here trying to get through high school with a decent GPA and maybe have a little fun. So what if I wear funky clothes and like quirky movies? We all have our own vibes, right? Besides, I CAN'T be the only one who feels this way; like, lets be real! I can tell the popular crowd is so fake anyway, just pretending to be perfect and sipping their iced coffees. I think it’s hilarious when they trip up and act like total dorks—maybe we all need a bit of awkwardness, huh? So maybe instead of focusing on the haters, I’ll just be true to myself and own it! Who cares if they think I'm lame? I’d rather be lame and happy than cool and miserable! And hey, if anyone else feels like I do, let’s band together and form our own crew of misfits! We’ll be the ones who actually have fun instead of worrying about stupid opinions; life’s too short to be worried about what others think, right?

I'm a minor who is a trans man. A few months ago I came out to my parents as trans but my dad has acted like nothing happened and my Mom tells me it's a phase and asks me why I would decide this horrid future for myself even though I didn't choose it. I wish I could say she wasn't supporting but she is, she is very open about trans rights but when it comes to me I feel like my identity is just a funny joke to her or me "rebelling". I hate myself. She hates me, not her. I took away her little girl and I wish I hadn't. What do I do?

Me and my now ex boyfriend are in a weird situationship thing. He’s treated me better than how we were in our relationship. But he’s been talking to me about doing OF and I’ve been feeling so jealous. Before you say anything, I’m fully aware that I can’t control him and he’s his own person. But it’s hard when you have such strong feelings for someone and they do certain things that just strike you the wrong way. It hurts but I don’t necessarily have any right to say anything to him about and I can’t make him not do it. It really sucks.

I'm just at the absolute end of myself. Now I believe and follow God, but "giving it to God" feels a lot like sitting here doing nothing. I'm a single mother (1 kid) in my late 20's, working a burned out 9-5, desperate for supporting my roles as a mother, friend, and individual. My job is a blessing in the sense that I can bring my kid to work, attend field trips, all the sorts, but it's always at the expense of my paycheck. And that paycheck is very important because even though I only make ~$20,000/year, I've accomplished homeownership (first generation homeowner), a Christian school for my kid, a paid off hunk of junk car, and only about $3,000 worth of debt (not including the mortgage obviously). Of course I'm on subsidy, but we don't abuse the system nor do we live luxuriously. I made a $175/month grocery allowance work but it's now been cut back to $23/month. I feel successful despite my circumstances, but man.. I'm tired of just "beating the odds", "overcoming the statistics". I want not more, but better. I want to start cleaning houses, but start up for materials is out of reach and I've had 6 surgeries since 2019, my body is wrecked. I'd push through it though if it meant I could afford my bills and still meet friends at the park at 2pm on a Tuesday. I'm very handy, but I'm more Jack of all trades, master of none. I built my own shoe racks and fix my own car, but I can't diagnose or blueprint. I don't have my own tools. I'm washing my hair with dish soap to make sure my kid has their ends met. I have no family where I live, and while I do have friends, why should I expect them to hear the burden of my predicament? For me, venting=asking them to fix the problem. And the problem feels unfixable. And that leaves me clinging to the fact that God is bigger than these problems. He's bigger, but I still feel like I'm being suffocated. I don't want a bigger house or a newer car. I buy almost everything from second hand stores. I just want to be a mother and a friend, and have a job that will leave me confident in my ability to pay bills.