Life Stories and Everyday Drama - page 40

I replied virgin death. What your opinion on my answer?

My journey all started when I got knee surgery for my meniscus tear. In this story my empire was destroyed only to be rebuilt with unstable ruble.

I was an active person before my injury working out 14 hours a week and eating a well balanced diet, I got at least 8 or more hours of sleep each night. I also had all A’s in my classes and a wonderful group of friends. Overall my life was stable and perfect in all aspects. When I tore my meniscus and got the surgery I was still resilient and hopeful for a couple months after. I went to physical therapy every week and was progressing more than the average person would. It wasn’t until March that the downers of life started catching up to me. I was starting to get burnt out from school since I had to make up for the weeks I was recovering. I also felt more depressed. At the end of the school year things really lightened up. I got on an antidepressant called sertraline, However I never took the medication because I had the idea that it would mess with me. Day after day I skipped my medication and it finally became summer break. And not even a week into summer break I just broke down. Apparently my mind was on its last stilt and just fell and all the stress came crashing down with it. I started having symptoms like mood swings and suicidal thoughts. So my psychiatrist put me on abilify to stabilize my mood because it switched often. My mood swings were from crying to feeling like I was the coolest person on the planet, this would happen a couple times a day. I soon had my first visit to a mental hospitable due to suicidal actions. Once I finished my stay my psychiatrist took me off sertraline and put me on cymbalta. I actually took cymbalta, however another symptom showed up and I started to have extreme anxiety at the start of July. Everything seemed like they were trying to keep me in this dream called life and the only way I could end it was by killing myself. I also started to take substances like nutmeg and LSA. I felt really unstable in life. I then started a php program that was short lived before going to the mental hospital for my second stay. At the mental hospital I started prazosin and trazodone. I was also diagnosed with derealization and depersonalization By August things started to get better but I started to notice I couldn’t control my actions and impulses as well anymore, I didn’t feel like I was my usual stable self anymore. In an attempt to get a thrill and escape I took a plant called Datura on five different occasions. The drug put me into a place of delirium that felt confusing yet safe. Soon my parents found out and stopped me from taking it again. I was still struggling till the middle of September. I took 62 pills of benadryl to get the same delirium I had on Datura. I continued taking benadryl till my parents noticed my pupils dilated. Then the next day they sent me to the mental hospital again. When I got out I continued life, still struggling. I also seemed to gain 90 pounds in three months. My psychiatrist was at the point where they were about to diagnose me with Borderline personality disorder. However me and my family decided to send me to a residential school in California before anything could happen and take off the school semester. At the residential we found out that I had Hypothyroidism and was put on lamictal and thyroxine. After staying at the residence for 2 months I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. When I got home I was put into a php where at some point I ended up eating a benadryl ointment cream as a last resort to get that delirium. The next day it was found out cause I was acting weird. Thankfully they didn’t send me to the mental hospital. I soon finished php and moved on to Iop. This was the time school started. In the first week of school I decided to drink 300mg of caffeine a night to see what happens and then decided to not sleep for three days due to nightmares. At this point I was starting to go into a psychosis believing I was meant to be schizophrenic in my next life so I should kill myself. The world also started to glitch and I felt Euphoric as hell. However, I decided to sleep on Thursday to Saturday and then decided to try staying up for 5 days on Sunday. I am now finishing night two while writing this. All being said, I truly hate myself right now. My feelings for myself switch from feeling like I am superior to everyone to feeling like I am unlovable and I hate myself. I honestly hate my personality so much to the point I want to actually commit suicide. I don’t know if this is a personality disorder or if I am just actually stupid or crazy. I used to have this stable personality but now my personality is reckless and moody. If anybody relates to this please tell me because I don’t want to be alone in this. (I'm not necessarily looking for a diagnosis I am just looking for others experience similar to mine)

I was sitting on my bed, just sitting there. My cat came up to me while I was watching a YT vid (the click btw) and she started to attack my phone. I'd like to make it clear that I haven't hurt her, not even when I did this, I have dropped her from my bed (a bunk bed) but she never seemed affected and I only did that when she tore down the blanket I hung from my ceiling for privacy. When she attacked my phone, without much thought I flipped her. Like, I kinda pushed her away but she flipped onto her back. I can't remember how rough I was but she seemed fine and just layed down afterwards. I immediately grabbed her and put her on my stomach and started petting her as a silent apology. But this made me realize that i keep doing things like that I could start hurting her and I would hate to do that because she's just a small kitten. She's just doing what cats do. I feel really bad but that's not an excuse. Please, I would love to hear any feedback on what you think of this and what I could do to keep myself from letting my annoyance turn me into a monster. This poor kitty (her name is MJ) doesn't deserve to be the outlet for my anger and I really just don't know what to do or think about how I've treated her. She's laying on my chest while I type this out but I still feel like a piece of crap.

I keep trying to make friends, but everytime I try to message someone my previous trauma tells me I shouldn't and that the message will only annoy them. I just wanna make friends but because of so much past experiences it makes it so hard to reach out to them. Even though I know it's the only way I can get closer to someone I hold back.

Okay, I don’t know whether this is seen as family drama because I can’t find “teen issues”, but I’ll say it anyways. So, I’m gonna turn 13, yippee, but I have doubts. Firstly, since 13 in most films & shows are depicted as such a horrible age, is it gonna be even worse at that age? Would I grow a year older just to become an overly risky, smoke, drink, harass kids for how “ugly” they are, have my face turn into a humongous zit, grow pimples everywhere, hate school, hate my family, run away from home & do that kinda trash? I love my family, they’re very wise & cool, my dad is super smart & my mom is no-nonsense, but would I then take their cool stuff for granted for my dumb friends? I was taught by my dad that friends will eventually pressure you into doing horrible things, like drink, smoke & do drugs to seem cool, but in the end, they’re gonna get hurt. I’m scared I’m gonna turn into my worst self, my lowest point, my horrible angry toddler self again who I hate now, because I used to be so angry at 6, now I’m 12 & I’ve grown from that & I hate my 6 year old self, so at 13, will I become like that again? Regress & become dumber? Because many sites say your prefrontal cortex is really weak at this age & your amygdala is like a lion, crazy & wild. Am I gonna be my worst self? My mom says I’ll grow a lot & my dad said I’ll just be a year older, but I’m gonna be a teen & probably a bad daughter. 🥲

It's hard to know where to begin, so I'm just going to start talking. I was dating a guy for over an hour and a half when he suddenly broke up with me out of the blue (OVER TEXt!!) Then, he ghosted me. I tried getting him to talk to me. I texted and I called, but no response. Until finally a week later he asked if I would be willing to meet. In short, we talked it through and decided to try again.

We were good again for a few weeks, and then we got into a fight. He lied to me but didn't think he did, and he got mad at me for being upset. (He was always getting upset with me for being upset, which was really crappy.) We talked this through, and before I went home that night, he said we were good. I really thought we were. It was just a rough moment, and I thought we had worked through it. Apparently, I was wrong.

He wouldn't respond to my texts for days, and when I called him a couple of days later after a bad day at work, he ignored the call, then a while later texted to say "I'm not ready to talk yet". I didn't even know that we weren't talking or that he needed space. He didn't tell me, and in hindsight, his lack of communication was always a sore spot for us. Probably another week went by before I finally got him to talk to me. I had a family emergency where my sister ended up in the hospital, and I texted him twice practically begging him to be there for me before he finally called. He came to the hospital, and he was reluctant to talk to me about what was going on, but he finally did. He finally said that he didn't want to be with me. He said that we could take a break and some time apart to try to work this out. He even suggested that we could still talk and even hang out every once in a while but that this would take some time.

I agreed to this because I didn't want to lose him. But he didn't keep to any of this.

I gave him space, rarely texted him, which all went unanswered. Every once in a while (like every couple of weeks) he would answer a phone call, and we would talk for hours about how we've been and it would go really well. Each time we made plans to meet up, but he also ended up canceling each time. This happened three separate times over the past 3 months.... and I fell for it every time.

He kept stringing me along, and I let him. He hasn't responded to any of my texts or attempted phone calls since the last attempt to get together. And I stopped trying. It's been nearly a month since the last time I attempted to reach out to him, and it still hurts so much more than I would like to admit. I know it's over between us, but I think the hardest part is that there was never an official breakup. We never got an official ending, so I think there is still a part of me that hopes he will eventually reach out to me, and we'll find a way to work through this.

I don't even really want to get back with him anymore, but I still miss him dearly. It's hard, and I feel so alone.

I hate that he did this. I hate that he treated me like this and that I let him. I hate that I still miss him.

There is so much more that I could write, but I'm not sure if anyone will actually read this.

I just hope to hear people's thoughts about this. I don't have anyone I can talk to about the breakup, so I have nowhere else to turn to and really want to get to the point where I can move on. Any thoughts would be greatly appreciated.

My anxiety is out of control because people and people I'm friendly with just suddenly don't turn up on schedule to the point I'm afraid I've done something wrong when I know I haven't done anything inheritably bad or said anything to harm them. I'm so lonely are try my best to make them but it's so much harder with anxiety.

I have major mental health and anger issues! I’ve tried to seek help online and people always try to patronise me and fix me until things get difficult and negative or “toxic”. It honestly just pisses me off! Suck people should be in no position to help me

All I want is your presence, not your presents.

Very rarely am I good with words, and this time may be no different, but I wanted to share my feelings from tonight. As I pack my apartment again, I think about the next steps and what is coming. I am moving to a larger space in a new area. Thankfully, I will still have friends and family nearby, but I feel so empty about the situation. I think about all the times I have moved in the past 10 years and how each time has been essentially me moving myself, alone, with no help (at least not from friends or family). I think about the move from New England to the South—wow, that was a big move, right? Why wasn’t anyone here to help me? When I moved from the South to New England, at least Dad went with me; he experienced the drive with me. So why didn’t anyone welcome me back? Was everyone happy I was going so far away? Why has no one come to visit? Why am I the only one trying? Is this what love looks like?

Now I am moving again, and my brother is coming to help. My brother and I have had a rocky relationship for years, but we have both matured immensely, and I am grateful for his friendship. I never thought we would be close. I am thankful that he has offered to help me move. I didn’t have to ask, but I made sure to tell everyone in the family. He’s the only one who offered.

Still, no one has visited. No one else offered. Why don’t my parents see how much it hurts that I have been back in the South for 9 months and not once have they reached out and driven to me? Why do they tell me they were coincidentally going to visit when I tell them I have plans for a weekend? Why didn’t they offer to help me move?

I have driven over 10,000 miles to see my family and set up the business, yet no one has even driven 10 miles to see me. My dad came all the way to Wichita (4 blocks from my new apartment) to pick up a friend’s child, but he can’t do that for me? Nana says that if anything were wrong and I needed help, he’d be here immediately, but why do I need to wait until I need help? I asked for help paying for a resume service, yet he made me feel like he wasn’t willing to help, only willing to “pay me back” for the driveway. Seriously?

Do they not know how it feels to call my brother and hear my mother in the background because she has visited? Are they closer? Yes. Do they have kids? Yes. But there is no excuse for not visiting a child over 9 months when they are only a few hours away. Hell, they didn’t visit for 7 years in Maine except when my brother and I FORCED them to get on a plane to visit me. We paid for the entire trip; Mom and Dad had to do nothing. Always citing money and time, they were able to buy all this fancy quilting equipment and build another building to expand out of their own pocket, yet they didn’t have time or money for me.

Why am I so much less important? Why did no one ask if they could attend my graduation for my Master’s degree? What do I have to do to make my parents happy or proud of me? Why do I care anymore?

Do they resent me for being gay? Lord knows I have learned not to bring anyone around, as I feel like it’s always a shit show. And then my mother sits me down to talk about how “she feels they have done a good job of accepting me being gay.” Why do my tears sting my skin every time I cry? What have I done to receive such treatment? What do I have to do just for them to try and meet me halfway?

I guess I really won’t get anywhere from this, but I wanted to type it out. I cry, it hurts, and I don’t know what to do to change it. I can’t have a healthy relationship with anyone because I don’t know what that looks like. I am broken. I have always been broken. Who am I?

All I want is your presence, not your presents.

my name is miriam and im almost 12. my parents are divorced and they can't agree on anything. im Jewish and my mom wants me to have a bat mitzvah at 13 and my dad wants me to have a bat mitzvah at 12. and none of them are willing to be flexible so now i'll have to study twice as hard. like this is supposed to be my breaking point, the end of my childhood, but what's the point if you have to do it all over again? and lately I've been struggling with suicidal thoughts because of family problems (ill go into that another time) so i don't really know what to do atp

Hi, it's me again, X, here with another vent.

I've been boggled by the news lately about this universal Comprehensive Sexuality Education (CSE) that's becoming a worldwide standard. In the Philippines, the Senate is now discussing the Anti-Teenage Pregnancy Bill, which suggests that CSE would be taught to students. What's more concerning is the claim that they're considering teaching masturbation to children as young as 0-4 years old.

I mean, maybe it's just me, but I grew up preserving traditions and religion, and for me, isn't this just so wrong to do? I understand the importance of educating the youth, but introducing such topics at such a tender age feels inappropriate.

Moreover, I believe that to prevent children from engaging in sexual activities at a very young age, we should limit their exposure to such topics in the first place. Teaching them about masturbation and the pleasures of sex seems counterproductive. Instead of reducing teenage pregnancies, this might encourage them to experiment more.

Why not implement laws that hold parents accountable for their children's actions? Providing explicit knowledge and exposure to children seems like we're tolerating, if not encouraging, them to engage in such activities. If they were more aware of the consequences, perhaps they would think twice before acting.

Again, this is just me. I'm not into politics; I'm just thinking of humane ways to deal with these kinds of topics.

There’s a heaviness in living a life that no longer feels like your own, a script I keep reading aloud, even as the words crumble in my mouth. We’re together, not for love, but for convenience—a fragile, lifeless thread binding us to a home that feels more like a stage.

If I were to leave, the company would fall apart. If he were to leave, the foundation of this house we’ve built would vanish. And so, we stay—partners in duty, strangers in love.

This home is not a sanctuary for my heart. My tears fall unnoticed, my sadness stirs no concern. It doesn’t matter if I cry, if I ache, or if I feel invisible. Here, respect is fleeting, care is transactional, and love appears only when it serves him. I am the pillar holding this family aloft—the financial support, the stepping stone. Perhaps that’s why he doesn’t show just how much he resents me.

And yet, the thought of leaving terrifies me. In the culture I come from, divorce is a scarlet letter, a brand that whispers “failure,” “outcast,” “whore.” Here, it feels as though it’s always the woman who must keep the peace, who must sacrifice herself at the altar of family, no matter how much it hurts. That burden sits heavy on my shoulders, pressing me into silence.

Then there’s our child—our beautiful, innocent child who looks at us and sees something I can no longer feel. He sees “loving parents.” What are we teaching him? That love doesn’t matter as long as you stay? That a hollow home is better than a broken one? One day, he’ll grow up. One day, he’ll understand. And I dread the moment he looks at us and thinks, Mom and Dad stayed together because of me, but there was no love. The thought of that realization shatters me.

Am I raising him in a home that is whole, or a home that is empty? What lessons about love, about self-worth, are we leaving him with? And yet, I can’t bring myself to drag his tiny heart through the chaos of courtrooms, through the wreckage of a family torn apart.

So here I am, trapped in this endless limbo—afraid to stay, afraid to leave. Afraid of what the world will say, of what my child will feel. This fear, this sadness, this weight—it’s my constant companion.

I don’t know how to move forward. I don’t know if there’s a way out, or if this is simply my fate. But I carry this story every day, and I needed to release it, even if just into the void.

To anyone walking this same fragile, uncertain path—know that you’re not alone.

Hi, just call me X. This is my first time venting. I found this online space in my desperation to find somewhere I could just shout everything out. At least, even if it’s virtual, it feels like a release. I’ll also be honest—I’m using ChatGPT to refine my sentences so they’re clearer for anyone who might read this and find it relatable. I might be posting more, who knows?

Have you ever felt like no matter how hard you try to change, no one around you notices or cares? It’s exhausting to keep adjusting yourself, hoping to meet their expectations, only to have them keep seeing you as the same person you were before. Even the people you trust the most—the ones who should understand—seem stuck on who they think you are. It’s like they’ve decided they know you too well, so every action you take gets misinterpreted through that lens. You’re out here making all this effort to grow and meet their needs, but it feels like no one even acknowledges how much you're trying. It’s draining, and honestly, it makes you wonder if it’s even worth it.

Ok so I’m 15 and my grandmother makes me take a bunch of alternative medicines and vitamins and mainly stuff with ashwagandha in it and since she’s been making me take these things with ashwagandha I’ve had absolutely horrible emotional numbness so much to the point were my childhood cat passed away and the very next day we got another cat I only felt a very small amount of sadness and it was very confusing I thought I was a bad person for not feeling incredibly sad and I just it is so bad I genuinely don’t feel sad or happy or just anything now and I’ve been having very frequent headaches and it sucks but literally just tonight when I saw that my stuff to help me sleep has ashwagandha in it I decided to look it up and wow for the first time in a long time I don’t feel like I’m insane I feel like I’ve lost a couple years of my life but tomorrow I’m going to show my grandma the research I’ve done and tell her I won’t be taking anything with ashwagandha in it anymore. Wish me luck .

Growing up, I thought that I had ambition to pursue whatever it is that I wanted. I bought into the illusion that if I evolved into an educated person, I could succeed in whatever I do. That was when I thought all else was equal.

As I grew older, the more I learned about my place in the world. After I reached for my family's tax returns to file for college financial aid, I became almost obsessively aware of poor we were and how much I was so much different my peers at school. I did a good job of hiding it, but I was deeply insecure of how my background compared to other people. This shame carried onto my time in college, where I became reclusive because of my own comparison of myself with the people I met.

My family has never really went on a vacation; we own a house so small that my brother has to set his bed in the living room; our house freezes in the winter because of window drafts and high heating costs; I purposely stay on campus longer than I need to so that I don't have to feel cold at home; my dad has a gambling addiction. In elementary school, I stole books because books were too expensive to purchase; we don't celebrate my family members' birthdays or any major holidays because of the expenses.

Themore and more time goes by, I feel my self-confidence slipping as I compare myself with other people. It feels like my starting line is below sea level, and I'm drowning.