Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

I’m currently in family therapy with my dad, his new wife, my sister, and my new stepsiblings. My dad remarried two years ago following my mom's death, which means I now live primarily in one household. Adjusting to this blended family setup has been less than thrilling for me, despite understanding that the choice wasn’t mine to make.

Ever since my stepsiblings—who all suffer from severe food allergies—came into our lives, many aspects of our routine have drastically changed. For instance, a beloved tradition of visiting the local noodle bar to celebrate academic events is now off-limits because the menu doesn’t accommodate their dietary restrictions. Even simple pleasures like bringing ice cream home or whipping up a sandwich have been curtailed; now only my dad and his wife handle all the cooking.

Birthdays are another domain where adjustments have been made. The dining out choices now cater solely to what’s safe for my stepsiblings, sidelining my sister's and my preferred eating spots. My dad often expresses gratitude towards these changes in the spirit of family unity.

However, a few months back, my dad’s wife picked up on the lack of enthusiasm from my sister and me. Our disengagement sparked a decision to initiate family therapy, prompted by noticing that my sister had excluded her and her kids from some family photos she displayed in her room. Once therapy began, we spent session after session dissecting the issues, with my dad frequently championing the perks of our new family dynamics.

The tipping point arrived during a recent session when the therapist inquired if I was genuinely okay with these changes. That question unleashed all my pent-up frustrations. I vehemently expressed how much I disliked these changes and how they felt unjust. I highlighted how no one considered my preferences during birthday celebrations and how restrictive these new rules felt. My outburst covered the entire session, oscillating between my rant and responses to the therapist’s questions.

Both my dad and his wife were displeased with my outburst—him for my tone and her because her children overheard the passionate objections, which inadvertently revealed that I had never embraced these changes. She seemed unnerved by my monopolization of the therapy time, although she also appeared to acknowledge my feelings to an extent.

If this episode unfolded on a reality TV show, the reaction from viewers might be split. Some might sympathize with my need to maintain certain traditions and others could think that I was harsh and disrespectful. Reality shows thrive on portraying drama and intense emotions, so my outburst likely would have been highlighted as a pivotal, controversial moment, sparking debates and social media buzz.

Am I wrong for voicing my discomfort in this situation?

It's currently 7:35 and today i have not 1 but 2 important tests. And i've spent the last 2 days frying my brain trying to study, and kinda failed miserably. For one i'm kinda ok-ish? For the other i'm honestly doomed.

So i'm gonna have to study some more in the hours before because Yesterday i couldn't go on, my brain literally mush. Worse yet? Tomorrow i have 2 more tests that i have to study for this afternoon. This period has been really hard for me cause i'm badly burnt out and really tired and my grades now are kinda bad. I feel like an idiot cause i never had this many problems in school but also i just want to get passing grades and just end this period or this year entirely. I'm so so tired.

Hope you have a nice day stranger ❤️

Man, I just gotta get this off my chest, like for real. I’m 16, right? And my relationship with my mom is the absolute worst. It’s crazy how different she is with my little sister, like she practically worships her or something. It’s like they’re best friends and I’m just... there. 😕

Every time I walk into the room, it feels like I’m stepping into a battlefield; she gives me this look that just screams annoyance. Like, what’s up with that? It’s not like I’m a total jerk or anything. I mean, I try to keep it chill, but every little thing I do just seems to set her off. “Why can’t you be more like your sister?” is basically her daily mantra. Seriously, how am I supposed to compete with someone who can do no wrong? It’s exhausting. 😤 My sister is sweet and always gets the praise. I don’t blame her, she’s cool, but jeez, a little love for the older sibling wouldn’t hurt either! I can’t help but feel like I’m constantly walking on eggshells around my mom. Even things like asking her for a favor seem to ignite a volcanic eruption. “I’m too busy, why don’t you just handle it yourself?” Like, okay, I get that you have a lot to juggle, but come on, don’t I deserve a little consideration? I mean, it’s only fair. I’m a teen trying to navigate life and school and whatever else comes my way. Just last week, I asked her if she could help me with some school project ideas. She hardly listened and just told me to Google it. Like, really? I get that independence is important and all, but there’s a fine line between being supportive and being dismissive. 😒 My friends joke around about their moms being “just a little bit overprotective,” but I’m over here just wishing for some attention!

I honestly can’t figure out what I’ve done to deserve this treatment. I’ve tried talking to her about it but every time I bring it up, she makes me feel like I'm whining. “You need to toughen up,” she says. I’m like, what am I supposed to do with that? It’s not like I’m asking her to hand me everything on a silver platter. I just want some recognition, you know? Like... occasionally ask about my day or show a little interest when I’m venting about a bad test or a friendship issue. But nah, it’s always about my sister's dance competitions or her latest cute outfit. I can’t help but feel like a second-class citizen in my own home. It’s frustrating, to say the least. And the worst part? When my friends are over and see how affectionate she is with my sister, they definitely notice the strong contrast. You could cut the tension with a knife! 😳 I can’t help but wonder if she even realizes she’s doing it. Maybe she’s caught up in her own world and just doesn’t see me. I’m there, but I feel invisible. It’s kind of like being the background character in a movie where everyone else gets the spotlight. Is it wrong that I want to yell, “Hey! I’m here too!” I constantly catch myself daydreaming about what it would be like to have a mom who genuinely had my back. It sounds simple, right? Just someone who’s on my side, cheering me on instead of the constant critic. Is that too much to ask?

I hear my friends tell stories about their moms and I can’t help but feel this wave of jealousy wash over me. They have those heart-to-heart chats that I would honestly die for. 🤦‍♂️ Real talk, have I done something specific that triggered this? Or does she just have a weird preference? Why does it feel like I'm in competition for her affection? I don’t need to be her favorite, but a little balance would be nice! So yeah, sometimes I just wanna scream, "I hate my mom," but deep down, I know that it’s not really that simple. I guess in some ways, I still want her to notice me. I don't know, maybe I'm imagining it all, but it sure feels real to me. Thanks for hearing me out, this has been building up for a minute!

I always thought the hardest part of my journey was behind me. All those late-night study sessions, the coffee-fueled exams, the internships, the pressure to graduate with honors—I thought once I stepped into the "real world," everything would finally make sense. But here I am, a year into my first real job, and I've never felt more lost or unmotivated in my entire life.

Back in college, I was the person everyone pointed to as the success story. The one professors used as an example, the one my friends admired. I thrived on deadlines, feedback, and clear expectations. Everything was structured, and I knew exactly how to succeed. Now, I sit at my desk, staring blankly at my laptop, wondering if this is really all there is.

When I landed this job, I was over the moon. Everyone congratulated me, told me how proud they were. I believed this would be the beginning of something amazing—a chance to finally prove myself. But the reality has been crushingly different. My work feels meaningless, just endless emails, pointless meetings, and tasks that seem disconnected from any bigger purpose. I spend most days feeling invisible, like just another cog in a machine no one cares about.

I don't think I'm lazy, or at least I never used to be. But lately, it's like all my drive just disappeared overnight. Getting out of bed feels impossible some mornings. I used to wake up excited about the day ahead, ready to tackle challenges and prove myself. Now, I hit snooze repeatedly, dreading the moment I have to log in and pretend to be engaged in work that doesn't excite me at all.

I've tried talking to friends and family about this, but most of them say things like, "Welcome to adult life," or "Everyone hates their first job." But is it really supposed to feel this empty? Is this what I've worked so hard for, just to feel drained and purposless every day?

I keep wondering if maybe I chose the wrong career, or if I was naive to believe I'd find fulfillment right away. The scary part is, I don't even know what else I would do. I've spent my entire life on this path, convinced it was the right one. And now I'm terrified that I'll always feel this way, stuck in a cycle of dread, disappointment, and total lack of motivation.

I wish I knew how to fix this, how to regain the passion and confidence I once had. Maybe it's just a phase, or maybe I need a change. All I know is that this feeling—this heavy, numb sense of "what's the point?"—isn't how I want to spend the rest of my career. I just wish someone would tell me how to get my spark back. Until then, I'm just here, drifting through days, wondering how someone who once felt unstoppable now feels so utterly unmotivated.

I worked as a pharmacy technician from 2018 to 2025, and for the first couple of years, I had to navigate a pretty toxic environment with two older women, whom I’ll call Gloria and Haven. Gloria was notorious for her drinking problem, and the only reason she kept her job was because she was the ex-daughter-in-law of the owner. Haven, on the other hand, was dealing with hormonal issues, which made her quite difficult to work with. I tried to keep my head down during this chaotic time, especially with COVID hitting and our pharmacy getting hacked. Gloria's constant absences and messy personal life created a lot of tension, and while some wanted to support her, I felt it was unfair that she was expected to be the glue holding everything together. Eventually, she got fired in 2022, but by then, I had already been dealing with the stress of Haven's constant criticism. She often apologized for her behavior, but it still took a toll on my mental health. I remember one instance where I was trying to split an oblong pill, and no matter how I explained that it wouldn’t break evenly, she kept insisting I was doing it wrong. It was exhausting. I showed her my pills, and she reacted strongly, saying it was disgusting and questioning how I would feel if I had to take something that looked like that. Her loud and dramatic nature made me feel even worse, and when she demonstrated how to break the pills, it turned out to be the same method I was using. I was terrified, feeling like I could never do anything perfectly. Afterward, I decided to talk to my manager about quitting and possibly going back to school. He offered to handle the situation and said we’d discuss it later, but I left early that day, overwhelmed and in tears. I still haven't fully recovered from that experience. The woman who confronted me has since changed after getting her thyroid checked and even apologized, but the embarrassment stuck with me. Then there was Danny, another technician who, despite being a gay man, had a knack for making people uncomfortable. He often boasted about his sexual exploits in a room full of older women, which felt completely out of place. I tried to ignore him, but it became increasingly difficult to deal with his inappropriate comments.

He started off by playfully teasing people about their mustaches, which seemed cute at first, but quickly turned into a brutal and uncomfortable vibe. It was like he was trying to assert dominance in a really awkward way, making everyone around him feel uneasy. Thankfully, he eventually left, but not before taking frequent smoke breaks during busy hours, only to return insisting he needed to control everything. Now that he's gone, there's another technician, let's call her Linda, who's always complaining about not being able to sit down, despite it being a stand-up job. She’s in her fifties and constantly talks about her miserable life, including her abusive marriage, which she seems to think is her only option. I’ve tried to encourage her to consider a life without that relationship, especially since her kids are grown, but she seems too scared to be alone. Meanwhile, I ended up becoming the pharmacy technician supervisor, not because I wanted to, but because I was too much of a people pleaser to say no. It turned out to be a huge mistake; the added responsibility and constant issues made every day feel overwhelming. She kept playing with the same old stuff and constantly complained about wanting to retire. I already knew her backstory—her husband had been abusive, and she believed marriage was her only option for survival. I suggested that there’s a whole world out there beyond marriage and maybe she should consider leaving him since their kids were grown and he had no hold over her anymore. I sensed her fear of being alone, but I didn’t want to dig too deep into that. I was busy dealing with too many mentally ill people myself, just trying to get through my workday. Eventually, I became a pharmacy technician supervisor because I was a people pleaser and didn’t stand up for myself. They figured since I didn’t push back, they’d promote me and give me a raise, which turned out to be a huge mistake. I hated that role; it came with so much responsibility and endless problems, making every day feel like a repeat of the last. It was like living in a hellish version of Purgatory. Unlike the show "Severance," where the characters have a clear divide between their work and personal lives, my memories from work haunted me constantly. I despised my job and wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Thankfully, I managed to find a work-from-home position in the worst job market imaginable, but I still carry the weight of my pharmacy experience with me every day. Since I started working from home, I've been grappling with some serious PTSD. I’m not full-time at my old job anymore, just working every sixth weekend, which isn’t too bad. However, my manager keeps piling on more facilities and sites for us to handle, and while my colleagues are managing, I’m overwhelmed with fear and anxiety. I’ve had chances to return to my old job or even explore new opportunities in pharmacy, but I feel like a shell of my former self and struggle to function in that environment. On the weekends I do work, I actually enjoy it; I loved the job and the pay, but the toxic atmosphere really took a toll on me. It’s wild to think that three people who made my work life miserable are gone now, yet I’m still haunted by the verbal abuse I endured. Gloria was outright racist, Haven was emotionally unstable, and Danny was just a miserable guy who thrived on making others unhappy. When I left, Danny expressed jealousy over my new job, but he’s not happy where he is now either. Looking back, I should have left that job much sooner. I spent six years there, always thinking I needed to quit, but the pay kept me stuck. Now that I’ve been working from home for four months, I’m grateful, but I still haven’t healed and instead find myself dealing with PTSD. Thanks for letting me vent; it helps a bit. I have a few friends to lean on and I’m in therapy, but I still can’t shake this feeling, so I appreciate the chance to share my thoughts with others.

I like this guy, c, he is cute, funny, sweet. Literally checks all the boxes.

I've known C from school for 2 years but the first time saw him I was sitting I

In the school cafeteria and saw him walking by through one of the windows. My first thought was "oh, he's kinda cute". I didn't have any classes with him that year and didn't see him until the first day of school the next year.

The first day of school came, and because I am sooo lucky, I had art first period with both of my younger sisters. We arrived to class and he assigned us seats. I was sitting at a table with a girl and guy who are a grade lower than me, same grade as my sisters, and C. (C is in the same grade as me). Over the next 3 months I had the best time at this table, he made me laugh so hard.

Suddenly, my art teacher gave us new seats, and I wasn't sitting with C anymore. I was already sitting alone at lunch so being isolated from people who made me happy sucked even more. Eventually this really kind girl, G, invited me to sit with her and her friends during lunch. Me and G are now best friends. Well one of these girls, K, like C too. I was to afraid to tell anyone of my crush, plus I also wasn't sure it was a crush yet. Unfortunately, k and c ended up dating for a while and I decided I would never tell anybody my crush. Well the school year came to an end and they broke up. I left him alone and didn't see him again until next school year.

This school year c was in my science class. The second I saw him all my feelings immediately came back. He would occasionally talk to me and I would catch him looking at me across hallways and the cafeteria. I was elated. Little did I know my school was going to bump up to advanced science. I, of course, took the opportunity as it gave me a high school credit, unlike the other course. So, things went along as normal, c would still look over at me and I would look over at him, but neither of us ever made a move.

Then I have a sleepover with G and she convinces me to get his number and text him. She ended up finding his number and texting him on my phone, I was scared shittless, like I was a HOT MESS. He ended up not remembering me from art, or knowing my name, or even the fact that we had science together a month ago. That hurt, like a lot. I gave up, he wouldn't start the conversation, his texts were dry, and he never talked to me in school. Of course I would still get butterflies whenever we were close to each other, but I tried to convince myself I didn't like him. I told my friends my crush was over, I didn't text him again, and I pushed all thoughts of him out of my brain.

THEN I FIND OUT HE HAS A GIRLFRIEND

(This is like 2/3 months later)

I here one of my friends casually mention that C and V make a really cute couple to my other friend. My heart dropped. V was the one girl at school that I would constantly compare myself to.

She's prettier than me, has more friends than me, is cooler, taller, funnier, hotter, of course c wanted her, hell I wanted to BE HER.

I pushed down my feelings but now G is dating one of Cs friends so whenever me and G hang out with Gs bf he's always there, and it's SO AWKWARD CUZ I STILL LIKE HIM AND I THOUGHT HE LIKE ME

but apparently I'm just some delusional teenage girl who actually needs to chill out, cuz he has a gf, who's not me.

I don't know what to do, I've tried liking other guys, but I almost have to force myself to like them. I've tried ignoring him. I've tried talking to my therapist about him, not the fact that I still like him but she was there for when I started texting him and stuff.

If you guys have any suggestions for getting over somebody, that would be great.

Love y'all!💕

Last week, I encountered an exceptionally rude sales assistant while hunting for a birthday present, and I wonder if I may have overreacted because of it. There was only one attendant free at the shop, and it was apparent she preferred not to be disturbed. She avoided making eye contact and would walk in the opposite direction whenever I neared. After waiting around for another assistant to become available and realizing none would, it was getting late, so I reluctantly decided to approach her. Regrettably, her response was dismissive and unhelpful, leading me to resume my browsing alone as I awaited my husband's arrival.

Upon his arrival, it was as if a switch had flipped with the saleswoman. She became eager and attentive, quite the opposite of how she had treated me initially. My attention had been caught by a stylish bag earlier, which I might have even bought for myself had it not been for her earlier behavior. My husband noticed and asked if I was interested in purchasing it, but I refused, particularly because it would mean she’d earn a commission from the sale. Despite my earlier experience, she now seemed more than willing to assist.

A few days later, my husband surprised me with that very same bag as a gift. I inquired if he had returned to the same store and interacted with the same assistant, which he confirmed. Knowing this, I felt compelled to return the bag. I explained to him how her initial rudeness had spoiled my view of the purchase, and that I did not want her benefiting from the commission. While the commission seemed trivial to my husband, the principle mattered to me. He was quite upset when I returned his gift, not understanding why a stranger’s actions should influence our decisions.

Am I being unreasonable?

Navigating this situation on a reality show would undoubtedly amplify the drama. Picture the scenario being replayed to a room full of spectators, each weighing in on the ethical dilemma. Would the public side with my decision to stand against poor customer service, or would they perceive my actions as an overreaction detrimental to what was a heartfelt gift from my husband? Reality TV thrives on such conflicts, often escalating them to entertain the audience.

hey everyone, i'm feeling all kinds of confused right now and i just want to let it all out 😅 so here goes... i'm 27 and have been dating this amazing guy for about 3 months, everything's been going pretty good, he's really nice and we get along super well. but then we decided to spice things up a bit and had a threesome with my best friend, who happens to be a girl. and now i find myself questioning everything about myself. like, am i actually bisexual? is this just a phase or perhaps something more? 😕 i keep wondering if these feelings are genuine or if they're just intensified because of the newness of the relationship and the experience itself. it's been a real mind trip, honestly.

so i’ve been replaying the whole scenario in my head, like every single detail, trying to figure out what i really felt and why. i realized that during the whole thing, i was just as into her as i was into him, and it was a strange realization to have. it didn't freak me out or anything (thank goodness), but now i'm left unsure about my feelings and it's a bit overwhelming. i mean, i’ve never had any kind of romantic or sexual attraction to women before this, or at least i thought i didn't 😕 but maybe it just took the right circumstances for me to feel this way; like maybe being with someone i trust, my best friend, gave me the freedom to explore these feelings without fear or judgment. idk, i kind of feel guilty about it all too, like i'm betraying my boyfriend or something, even though he's been totally cool with it. the question really is, what does this mean for me? am i just discovering something new about myself or is it a temporary thing? 🤔

i guess the cool thing is, i’m not freaking out about it or anything, more like curious and hopeful about the future. like, maybe it's something that could add an exciting new layer to my life and relationships? who knows! and my best friend and i have been super open with each other about everything, which has helped a lot. we’ve had so many deep convos since, and she's been really understanding and supportive 💕 the whole thing's actually brought us closer, so at least there’s that silver lining. but this leads to another question in my mind, like how will this affect my current relationship with my bf? i mean, i just don’t want to complicate things or hurt anyone involved. maybe it's all up in my head and i'm making it a bigger deal than it is, who knows. anyway, i’m just aiming to sort through these feelings and see where they lead me, no rush, just taking things one day at a time. if anyone's been through something similar, i’d definitely love to hear from you! 🤗 thanks for letting me get this off my chest!

I fucked up, and there is no polite or delicate way to phrase that, so I shall simply admit it outright: I cheated on my boyfriend, the man who has been nothing but loyal, generous, and patient with me for the past two years, the man who has shown me a stability I honestly never believed I deserved. I am twenty-five, he is thirty-two, and somehow we made it work, despite our differences in age, character, and temperament. Our life together is not some pathetic fantasy, it is real, concrete: we share mornings, dinners, moments of silence, the dull routines that, ironically, are the foundations of happiness. And yet, in one miserable night, soaked with alcohol, foolish laughter, and the kind of reckless bravado that makes people believe they are untouchable, I allowed myself to betray him. I was drunk, yes, but that excuse is thin, pathetic, barely a fig leaf for my own conscious decision to let another man touch me, kiss me, fuck me. I woke up the next day with the stench of someone else’s body clinging to mine, with a splitting headache and a gut full of disgust. Have you ever stared at yourself in the mirror and seen not your face but only the lies you will soon have to tell? That was me. My first thought was not even about what I had done, but about how I could possibly pretend it had never happened, and isn’t that the most revolting detail of all? That my instinct was to hide, to bury the truth, to spit on his trust while smiling at him over morning coffee.

Now I am stuck in this vile space between confession and concealment, and neither path seems bearable. To confess would be to throw a grenade into our shared life, to obliterate all the good moments, to shatter his sense of safety, to perhaps lose the one person who has ever truly made me feel like I was worth more than the sum of my reckless impulses. But to hide it? To swallow this filth and act as though nothing occurred? That would mean rotting from within, keeping a secret that gnaws at every embrace, every kiss, every “I love you.” And which is worse? To kill something with blunt force or to poison it slowly? I keep replaying the night, trying to find some crack in the memory where I might have stopped myself, where I might have said no, but instead I only see my drunk, stupid grin and the rush of feeling desired by someone new, someone meaningless. Do you know that absurd thrill, that tiny, stupid surge of ego when a stranger wants you? That was all it took for me to throw away my dignity. And for what? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I gained no satisfaction, no joy, no sense of fulfillment—only guilt that drips like acid through every second I spend with him now. He looks at me with those calm, patient eyes, and I want to scream, to confess, to throw myself at his feet, yet I choke on cowardice. It is ridiculous, but even in my own shame, I feel a twisted sort of hope, as if perhaps this mistake might shock me awake, force me to grow up, to stop treating life like some chaotic experiment. Maybe the very act of ruining something reminds you how precious it actually is.

So what do I do, really? Do I unload this shitstorm into his lap, admit everything, beg for forgiveness, knowing full well he might walk out and never look back? Or do I take this filthy secret to my grave, let it burn me in private, and in return keep the life we built intact? I am not some saint, clearly, but neither do I believe I am a monster, and maybe that’s why I cling to the thought that redemption might still be possible. I cannot decide if honesty here is noble or selfish, because confessing could easily be seen as nothing more than trying to ease my own conscience while dumping the pain onto him. Hiding it could be argued as protecting him from useless suffering, yet is it not arrogant to assume I have the right to make that choice for him? Fuck, it is a twisted dilemma, one that I suspect many would simplify with “just tell him” or “just shut up,” but reality is never that neat. Life is messy, human beings are messy, and love—even the strongest, most mature love—has cracks that appear when you least expect them. Despite everything, I still believe in us, still believe that we can survive my stupidity, though I am uncertain of the method. Maybe this betrayal is not the end but the grotesque wake-up call I needed to finally stop taking him, and myself, for granted. Perhaps the future is not destroyed but simply altered, and maybe, just maybe, there is a chance to rebuild something stronger on the ruins of my failure. Or am I just lying to myself to soften the blow? Would you, in my place, confess and risk it all, or would you stay silent and fight like hell to make every future moment worth the guilt? 🤷‍♂️

Hey everyone, I’m not usually one to air my personal stuff, but I really need some advice here. For the past few months, I’ve had this gut feeling that my wife might be cheating on me, and it's eating me alive. I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but the signs are starting to pile up, and I’m just not sure what to do.

It all started when she began staying late at work more often. At first, I didn’t think much of it—she’s always been dedicated to her job. But then, she became super protective of her phone. She used to leave it lying around, but now she keeps it close and seems to be on it all the time, even at odd hours. And when I casually ask about her day, her answers feel...vague? Like she’s hiding something.

Then there are the little things. She started dressing up more than usual, even just to “run errands” or meet friends. It’s almost like she’s trying to impress someone. I’ve tried to brush it off, telling myself I’m being paranoid, but every time I bring it up, she gets defensive or says I’m just being insecure. It makes me feel like maybe I’m overthinking, but part of me feels like my concerns are valid.

To make things worse, I found a receipt for a fancy dinner that she said was a "work thing," but I know her company usually doesn’t do dinners like that. I keep second-guessing myself, and now I’m stuck in this loop of anxiety. I don’t want to accuse her without solid proof, but I also can’t keep living in this uncertainty.

So here I am, asking for advice. Has anyone else been through this? How do you confront someone you love without it turning into a huge fight? Should I even bring it up again, or am I just being paranoid? Any advice would be appreciated—I feel like I’m losing my mind here.

Every year, organizing a family getaway has become one of my cherished traditions. This year, with Easter approaching, I reached out to gather everyone's availability, aiming for a winter holiday suited for all. Unfortunately, not all plans aligned perfectly. My daughter-in-law and son mentioned that the initial dates wouldn’t work due to her job constraints, and even our backup options failed to suit them.

Traditionally, our family vacations were accessible by a car ride, but this year marked a thrilling change. The consensus among the adults was that the children were now mature enough for a more adventurous outing, prompting us to set our sights on Europe. Excitement buzzed as tickets were purchased and accommodations were secured by me.

As the planning solidified, my son and daughter-in-law, having been absent from the vacation chat due to initially opting out, caught wind of the European destination and expressed a sudden interest to join. She called seeking details on what they needed to do to be included. Curiously, she now mentioned she could manage time off work, which made me suspect that the allure of Europe swayed her previous decisiveness.

Regrettably, I had to explain that it was too late to alter the arrangements. The accommodations were already booked, and adjusting them to include two more adults would entail additional costs, which I wasn't prepared to cover. She seemed surprised by my decision and lamented how excluding them from a Christmas family trip seemed harsh. My son echoed his disappointment, affirming that I could financially handle the modification. Yet, I stood by my decision, which only led him to label me as unreasonable.

Given the circumstance, I am curious about how others might perceive this situation. If this family dilemma were part of a reality show, I wonder how the audience would react. Would they sympathize with my adherence to the plans and budget, or would they vilify me for not extending the budget to include my son and daughter-in-law last minute?

I'm keen on hearing an outsider's perspective on this. How would you handle such a family conflict, especially under the scrutiny of a public or televised audience?

I used to be in a very big depression slump, it was very long. Lasted a span of 4 years at least. It started as deeply emotional. I was very sensitive and fragile to put it simply. But that later changed into hate and resentment. I am the oldest daughter in a traditional household. So when my parents started their seperation I was stressed about trying to makesure everyone was taken care of. But then I started to hate my family, hate how much they needed me for the house to be clean and for the kids to bed fed, and clean, and presentable for school. Until my younger brother started to show signs of depression too. It kind of snapped me out of it. Like it tore me in two that my little brother could feel like his life wasnt valuable the same way I saw my life. Fastforward I no longer feel that towards him. Im not so sure if hes still depressed but he is doing nothing with his life and it frustrates me deeply. He skips school and plays video games all day or watches videos. He has a GPA of 0 and is going to be a junior this year. This angers me. He didnt have all the responsibilies I had pushed on me growing up. While I had to literally physically move away from my family to focus on school and take many recovery classes to graduate on time. I guess the main cause of this resentment is that my mom tried talking with me about his mental health and trying to find a reason why he is this way. But when I was depressed I was just being a dirty and lazy kid that was making everything harder on her. I feel like I have regressed emotionally. I feel I used to have a lot more empathy than other but now I can only focus on how I feel in situations that cause me emotional distress. I didnt use to be this way. I dont know how to fix this empathy problem I have developed. I feel selfish and evil and filled with hate an resentment towards everyone and everything. Does anyone have some insight in how I can change this? I dont like living this way.

Does anyone remember this? https://iiwiars.com/spiritual-journey-stories/i-hate-this

Yeah, update now.

Can't you see those teachers can be petty?! I bet my shitty idiotic dance teacher only said that to mom because he felt pity. Fuck pity! I'm not as weak as you think, bastard cunt! And those kids may be tired, but the more they know me, the more comfortable they'll get conspiring I'm a horrible dancer and laugh in some competition, if I'll even get in one! I'll pretend to not give it my all, it's better than GARBAGE any day. He's lying to my face to sound like a nice guy and it's not working. He may say I did well for a beginner in an advanced tier, but I don't believe in beginner's luck or any good luck. My scheme will work. I'll just not try and he'll kick me out. I can do a half-ass job and call it a day, and then week, then a month, until he thinks I don't care and he suggests I leave. Good idea, since people are untrustworthy "species". He may say good, I smell "I'm saying this to drain money from your slut mother". Not so fast, liar cheat! You yourself said I'm allowed to not care! If I could burn the school, the music place, and my classmates, I would. And I'd salt the Earth away for extra measure and reside on Mars, if aliens do exist. But I can't. I just wish life was still and I was more free.

I went to the class and unfortunately put effort. I obviously wasn't matching the kids and they somehow didn't laugh, but it makes me more suspicious. More suspicious they weren't laughing because they thought I was bad and wanted to laugh, but didn't for respect. I told it to my brother earlier, and he said, "They won't! I see grown adults come in piano class and they can't even play Merry Had A Little Lamb, and I don't laugh because I know they'll get there!" You're 11, you haven't felt the worst feelings yet. Instead, that teacher was again nice to me and being a bit silly to his older students, and saying they were all like me when they started. What bullshit, they wanted to be here, I said yes because mom insisted, and she's a fugly rat for that! Very FUGLY! FUCKING UGLY!! She wanted to set me up for failure! She wants to see me become my worst self! I feel more clearer now, more than I ever did. The world is a planet of smog and salt, the people are monsters of Hell, me and the minority the survivors. I may feel a pull where if I do something I enjoy I feel kinder and sweeter, but that's the girl I hate being. I hate switching to that weak version of me, I want her to go away, shed off. She's weak and dumb. Do you not see the pissy world I live in? I have to fight for my life, until I die. You say yourself no one's good here. I don't feel weak like those witch doctors say "stress" does, I feel stronger, godly. Kindness and being nice, even feeling nice and regretting hurting others, it's my weakness from me. I need to improve that and not feel it. Nice people are a lie. No one is genuinely sweet, they're all doing it to seem nice, when really they haven't awakened their innermost selves, the true "disgusting" selves. I need to learn how to shed my outer fake self, the me I hate being who loves family, who likes science and history, who likes art, who likes cheesecake, it's a fake society-created shell. I wish I could talk to her to tell her to fuck off. I'm regressing, into my weakest form!

As the youngest in my family, I've always had a unique spot, especially when it came to my name. Unlike my siblings whose names were chosen out of tradition to honor other family members, my parents took a bold step with me. They decided to break from tradition and named me Sunny after something they genuinely liked rather than adhering to familial expectations.

Growing up, my name was a symbol of my parents’ free spirit and desire to do things their way. However, when I hit around 10 years old, I noticed a change in their attitude. They started occasionally calling me by my middle name, which felt odd, and I expressed my preference for my given name, Sunny. By my teenage years, I could sense their growing regret over their choice, yet I remained attached to my name.

Last year, they mentioned how some teenagers opt to change their names before finishing high school, aiming for something that might sound more mature. This was apparently meant to avoid future costs related to updating official documents like diplomas. Their hints became more direct over time; they suggested alternatives like James, nicknamed Jamie, and even Luke, but none resonated with me.

In June, the discussions took a more serious turn when they proposed a legal name change. They expressed guilt over giving me a name that was meant originally as an act of defiance against their families. They worried it appeared too whimsical for a man stepping into adulthood. Despite their concerns, I defended my name, appreciating its cheerful and hopeful essence, but they couldn’t shake their regret. Just last week, they came to me with official papers and a few selected names, urging me to make a choice. I stood my ground, valuing my attachment to my name over their change of heart, even though they pressed me to consider the practicalities of my future.

Am I wrong for wanting to keep the name I've cherished all my life?

Imagine if this situation unfolded on a reality TV show, where private family dynamics are suddenly thrust under the glaring spotlight of public opinion. The intensity of family pressure versus personal identity would be magnified, possibly leading to a heated and emotional episode. Viewers might be split, with some empathizing with my desire to retain my individuality and others siding with my parents’ concerns about practicality and maturity. The drama, no doubt, would add another layer to the already challenging situation, making it not just a personal but a broadly judged spectacle.

Heyah! I hope everyone is doing well.

I am recently going to move into my cousin's mansion in April, but I wanted to talk about ideal homes. Totally a long-winded subject. I know for many people(not all) they want to have a larger home. But for me(personally)... I think a home that's on the somewhat smaller side would be more of what I'd want.

I'd want to have a single-level home(NO STAIRS!!!). 2 bedrooms(master and guest). 3 bathrooms(master, guest, and powder). 1 Smaller kitchen(I'm not much of a cook). A small living room. Ideally no dining room. And having a smart use of storage would be nice. Since I own a lot of collections(Sea shells, crystals, books, etc). I don't care about clothing space... since I don't own a lot of clothes. I'm more of a nick-nack person, rather than a clothing person. I'd ideally like a washer and dryer in my home, as I grew up new a laundry mat and now would want the convenience of a washer and dryer of my own. Vinyl or any type of hard flooring would be nice... I am so forking done with carpet !!! I've had cats and dogs in my old home... and they k*lled my carpet!!!

I like East Asian mixed with modern art deco for the theme of my ideal home. I know for a fact that I wouldn't want a basement or an attic cause I don't like the psychological sh*t that goes on in horror movies... so, basements and attics are off-limits.

I think the main thing that would probably eat away at my budget if I ever did get my own home is the fact that I am completely afraid of the dark... like... I can't sleep at all if there is even a dark shadow in the corner. So, I'd keep my lights on 24/7 in the entire house. I also usually wake up to have water or a cold glass of milk in the middle of the night, and walking in the dark gives me a fright! So, lights on 24/7!!!

And if anything, I don't mind forgoing the guest bedroom and guest bathroom, cause small also means less to clean.

Anyway... I'm kinda sleepy since I took some pain medications due to my car accident... I'll write more stories later when I have more energy.

Eat good food and drink lots of water guys!!!

(Also... to clarify... I know that what I described isn't a "small house"... but it's significantly smaller than my cousin's mansion... which is why I'm saying it's small). When I lived in Cali... my ideal home was actually a studio apartment with lots of cool fold-in, fold-out stuff, and hidden storage stuff. But being on both poor and rich sides now... I think a middle ground would feel nice.