Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

I am a 20 year old man in university. I was raised in a religious household and wasn't allowed to date. Despite leaving my religion I have remained single due to the fact that I want to put my life together before getting into a relationship and also I have been struggling with my mental health for the past 2-3 years.

My mental health has improved in some areas however I am struggling with a huge insecurity related to women and it's caused me to become very depressed and suicidal. Just to clarify I don't hate women I just feel really confused and depressed.

A while back I came across many articles and studies that claim that straight women watch lesbian porn. So my question is why do so many "straight" women watch lesbian porn? None of the explanations I've heard make any sense at all and seem like excuses. As a straight man I don't get aroused by watching men kissing or sucking each other's cocks. If women don’t like straight porn because it’s too violent why don’t they watch straight porn that focuses on the woman’s pleasure? It’s not hard to find at all. I looked it up and there are plenty of sensual straight porn that focuses on the woman’s pleasure yet women choose to watch lesbian porn. Again I think the women who say they watch it because “it’s sensual and I like to imagine myself in the woman’s place” are just making excuses and are bisexuals or lesbians in denial. If I as a man said “I get turned on by watching two men kissing and sucking each other’s cocks but I’m 100% straight I just imagine myself in the man’s place” everyone would look at me like I’m crazy and rightfully so. As a straight man I don’t like to watch gay porn and I’m disgusted by it. I watch porn that only has women in it because I am 100% straight and I am not attracted to men at all. Yet women seem to prefer getting off to other women and make excuses that people believe.

I believe that little to no women on this planet are straight and the vast majority if not all are either lesbian, bisexual, or comphet (conditioned by society to be straight but deep down lesbian or bisexual).

I’m a straight man and I just want to be with a real straight woman who will love me the same way I love her and as much as I love her. I feel like this is not possible and it’s made me really depressed and suicidal.

Someone please help. If there are any truly straight women out there tell me this isn’t true and it’s just the internet. Or if not explain to me why so many “straight" women watch lesbian porn because I'm honestly confused.

My fiancé and I are thrilled about our upcoming nuptials this October. The venue is actually my future mother-in-law's property, which is a horticultural haven, featuring elegant cobblestone walkways, enchanting fountains, and meticulously sculpted shrubbery. It even boasts stunning willow and cherry blossom trees.

The ceremony will take place in a delightful meadow nestled in the heart of their estate—it promises to be breathtaking. Meanwhile, my brother Peter, who has been with his fiancée Emily for six years now, recently came to me with some concerns. They've just gotten engaged as well, but we haven't grown very close since they live quite a distance away and usually only visit during major holidays.

Emily uses a prosthetic leg, and it seems that recently she's found it more comfortable to use a wheelchair. Peter texted me to inquire if the wedding venue was accessible for wheelchair users. I honestly wasn't sure, so I promised to find out. The place has varying terrain including sections of grass, cobblestone, gravel, and dirt, which I'm unfamiliar with in terms of wheelchair accessibility.

We visited my in-laws recently to sort out ceremony details and examine how accessible the space would be for Emily. Afterward, I updated Peter, explaining the variety of surfaces she’d encounter. When he realized we were setting up the reception outdoors on the grass under a tent, and not using additional flooring, he was concerned, pointing out it might be difficult for Emily to navigate without a hard surface.

When I mentioned the budget constraints prevented us from installing special flooring, Peter was upset, telling me we were effectively excluding Emily. He argued that if we didn’t make the wedding accessible for her, they might not attend. I was taken aback when he accused me of discrimination. My disappointment was compounded when my mother also chimed in, criticizing my decision and suggesting we should easily cover the cost since we had saved money elsewhere in our wedding plans.

I tried to explain my stance, but frustration ensued when my mom threatened to withdraw their financial gift to our wedding--even though they had already paid for our attire. My explanation that Emily and Peter could consider funding the specific flooring didn't resolve the issue, as Peter had his own wedding expenses to manage.

I feel torn—I don’t want to exclude anyone, especially not out of carelessness or indifference. But the logistical and financial challenges are genuine for us too. I'm just not sure how I can manage all expectations and needs.

Imagine if this whole situation played out on some reality show, the tension it would generate! Viewers might be polarized. Some would likely criticize me for not accommodating Emily, possibly without considering budget limitations. Others might empathize with the tough choices involved in wedding planning, knowing that no decision pleases everyone. The scenario would make a juicy, conflict-driven storyline, perfect for sparking debates and discussions across viewing audiences.

If I were faced with debating this on a reality show, how would people react?

Should I re-estimate my wedding budget to make room for wheelchair-accessible flooring?

I hate all the lies she tells me. I hate that She says She doesn't care, she's Better off, She moved on, that she's hardned up. Because It's not true. It's lie. And she's actively trying to mend a hole he, or some body else with other things, or people or Animals. Trying to shape them into her ideals, projecting her suffiring onto them, making them pay for his mistakes. I hate that all those solid values she preached on and on for my whole life Is just what She wanted in him. I hate that She thinks i'm him. And i hate that She May be right. I hate that I have this kind of obbligation to make up for all she went through and to apologize for what he did. I hate him. I hate her. I loathe her.

I recently met a guy and got along with him quickly. He is the shy type of guy, who won't send many friend requests to people (he had 9 friends in his friend list in a game) and that didn't really have a real girlfriend. We used to be on call alone with him showing to me his favourite game, Warframe, until I decided to play it (not just because of him, but because I kinda liked the game itself too) and I made a group to play it with him, his friend (who I got along with quickly), a close friend of mine and another friend of mine. For more context, friend 1 has autism and has a lot of mental health issues so I don't want to charge him with more problems to endure because I don't want him to think that another group of friends is going to fall (specially when he is already passing through a hard streak in his life), and friend 2 is the one who I spill all the tea together always, both of us do and we spent a lot of time together.

It wasn't a secret that we both liked each other, but I had some strict limits that I told him, the one in question is that I despise games like Wuwa (hypersexualized type games) and that I wouldn't by any chance date a man that plays those kind of games. As you may have guessed, he plays them. Yesterday they confessed their feelings to me, asked me out, and I told them that if they asked me in person (since we already have plans for them to come soon), I would definitely say yes, that it would be more special that way.

Yesterday we didn't talk much because I wasn't in the best mood, so I went to bed early, and that was it. We said goodnight to each other with the same affectionate way as always (although without chatting for hours over messages like we used to) and that was it. Today, as soon as we woke up, we said good morning to each other as always and that was it. Without saying anything in the group beforehand, he called and his friend answered (so I guess they talked in private about doing it and that was it), and since I told him I was bored, he said I could join (although to be honest, it bothered me a little that he didn't have the courtesy to ask if I wanted to talk to him alone first or tell me to be alone later like we used to, but whatever). Even so, in the middle of the afternoon he sent me a screenshot of that game because of some event they added, to which I responded with an 'ew.' He replied with a sad gif, and I said 'gooner game,' to which he responded again with a sad gif. Then, I said, 'if you already know my opinion about that game and its players, why are you sending it to me?' with a funny gif to lighten the mood, and boom, since then, 6 hours without any response, and it's been 4 hours since he got on to play in a group call.

In fact, while I was finishing writing this, he asked me how I was, and, honestly, I don’t even know what to answer. If he knew that for me that was an intolerable boundary, why did he ask me out, and what response did he expect after sending me that? To add to that, I asked friend 2 if I could tell him this and he hasn’t responded either, even though he went in there to play; it’s a very frustrating situation and I don't know what to think and what to do, so thank you for reading and giving your opinions, to be honest I need it

Hey all, It's currently 2:40am as i write this. I really don't know what to say or do i guess. Well here goes nothing.

I'm 20M, and currently in a situationship with this person (21F) She's been one of my best friends for the last 8 years, and about a year ago we both realized we had feelings for each other. We can't be together at least not yet. We're both kind of struggling mentally. She's pretty much already my girlfriend without the title, and I haven't felt this way about someone since my best friend died. (My best friend became my girlfriend for 6 months before she passed) In the last 4 months she's had some drama and issues with an ex and a friend. Each time, my fault. Her ex emotionally manipulated her into dating him and he well, was threatened by me i guess. It's a whole situation. Another girl who (Wasn't really my friend a mutual) joined us for some gaming and spread lies about me and her which made it's way to her EX. (This was about 4 months ago)

Now today, her ex friend i guess removed her and they also had a thing a little over a year ago. He wanted more, she wanted to be friends, and the only reason they're having issues is because I told a mutual of ours what was happening between me and her, well, that mutual told her friend and they had a falling out over it. Now I've only had a panic attack twice in my life, First time was when that mutual told her friend and tonight. I'm just so fucking scared to lose her, I've practically given up on trying to find someone for me, but she's different. We've always been close and have always had a connection. Which is why I am trying so hard to make this thing work. I'm honestly giving this all I have left. I don't have it in me to try and start over with someone new, this is it for me. I don't want to lose this. Because i know this is the most right It'll ever be. I've been lied too, cheated on, and just abused (In all 3 senses) and I don't, I can't let myself fall to that again. So this is the last chance for me. I don't know what to do.

not my typical post this is a horror but no option for horror

this is chapwr one lmk what u guys think

Chapter One — The Hollow Tree

I ran but she caught me when the moon slipped behind the clouds and the world went silent.

Her grip closed around my ankle with a strength that belonged to graves and forgotten things. I fell hard, the breath knocked from my lungs, my palms sinking into the cold mulch of the forest floor. Dead leaves clung to my skin like the hands of the unburied, and for one hopeless moment I imagined that I, too, was sinking—downward—into the dark earth they all returned to.

A low hum trembled through the soil. A voice without words. A summons.

I twisted to look behind me.

I should not have.

She emerged from the dark like a memory that should have died centuries ago—long limbs bending in wrong directions, bones clicking against each other like rosary beads in restless hands. Her hair, long and dripping, veiled most of her face, though the smallest sliver of a grin stretched beneath it, white as moonlit marble and sharp as split stone.

The forest held its breath.

Even the wind dared not speak.

“Please,” I whispered, though my voice felt like it belonged to someone already fading.

Her head tilted. Not with mercy—no creature of mercy would be found in this place—but with recognition. As though she had been waiting, patient and starving, for the moment I would return.

The stories had warned me. My grandmother’s voice echoed, faint and trembling, from the deepest corners of childhood: Do not run from the Hollow Woman. She will come faster. Do not speak to her. She will hear you for a century. Do not look back. She is always closer than you think.

Yet I had done all three.

Her fingers tightened, cold as river stones, and she dragged me across the earth toward the hollow tree ahead—a towering corpse of a once-mighty oak, its trunk split open by some ancient and merciless storm. The gap gaped like a mouth, the inside impossibly dark, impossibly deep, as though it tunneled straight into the underworld.

The closer we drew, the more the forest changed. The trees bowed inward, crooked like mourners at a funeral. A smell seeped from the hollow—wet soil, rotting bark, and beneath it something sweet, like overripe fruit left too long in the sun.

“No,” I gasped, clawing at the ground. My nails scraped through moss and root, catching on stones slick with dew. My body obeyed terror’s instinct, but my mind was trapped in the slow, creeping dread that had haunted me since I first heard her voice two nights ago.

It had come with the storm.

I had been lying in my grandmother’s abandoned house—our ancestral ruin—when the lightning split the sky and the walls groaned like a living thing. A whisper curled through the cracks in the floorboards, thin as winter breath: Come back to me.

I thought it was grief. Or loneliness. Or the house settling around its last inhabitant.

But then the whisper came again.

And again.

And last night, when the moon was whole and bright, I saw her standing beneath the oak tree at the edge of the forest, her shadow stretching longer than her body should allow.

She had been waiting.

“Not yet,” I murmured, desperate, choking on soil as I fought against her grasp. “Please—not yet.”

For the first time, she paused.

Her grip, though unyielding, stilled. Slowly, achingly slowly, her face lifted, and beneath the curtain of her tangled hair I saw the hollow where her eyes should have been—deep, shadowed pits that seemed to draw in the light around them.

When she spoke, it was not with a voice but with a sound like roots cracking beneath frozen ground.

“You left me.”

My heart stuttered. A coldness spread through my chest, not the fear she inflicted but something older, deeper, something that knew her.

Because I had left her.

I didn’t understand why or how—but the moment she spoke, the truth whispered beneath my memory like something long buried scratching at the coffin lid.

“I don’t remember,” I whispered, and my own words tasted wrong, as if they were stolen from someone else’s mouth.

She dragged me another inch toward the hollow tree.

The moon finally slipped from behind the clouds then, its pale, shivering light spilling across us. For a moment—just a moment—she stopped moving. Her body stiffened. Her smile dropped into a grim line carved of stone.

The moonlight touched her skin, and she recoiled as though burned.

I felt her grip loosen.

Only a little.

Only enough.

With a cry torn raw from my throat, I twisted sharply, kicking with all the panic of a creature half-dead and unwilling to finish the job. My heel struck something soft—her face, perhaps—and her grip faltered.

I scrambled backward, breath ragged, legs shaking so violently they barely obeyed me. She hissed, a sound like a dying wind through hollow places.

But she did not lunge.

She watched.

The moonlight kept her rooted.

I staggered to my feet. Pain lanced up my knee. Blood soaked into my sock. Yet I ran—not with hope, but with the terror of someone who knows the night is far from over.

Behind me, her voice seeped through the trees like mist:

“When the moon dies, you are mine again.”

And above the forest canopy, the clouds thickened—slowly smothering the light that protected me.

My boyfriend, Jeff, who's 32, and I, 27, have been in a relationship for over a year now. He had only met my parents once during last year's holidays because they live quite a bit away from us. They decided to visit this past week to see our new apartment and spend more time with Jeff since we recently moved in together.

We have a spare bedroom in our place which Jeff has set up as his gaming sanctuary, but we both agreed it would serve as the guest room whenever we have visitors. Jeff is a big fan of video games and anime; he has this vast collection of figurines and posters from various series.

Among his collection are some items like an anime body pillow with a print of a scantily clad anime girl and a mousepad featuring a voluptuous anime character. I asked him to tidy up the room and put these particular items away before my parents arrived, aiming to make them comfortable. However, I was disappointed to find he hadn’t shifted the pillow or the mousepad.

I’m personally not very keen on those items, but since he's passionate about anime, I haven't made a big deal about it before. Though with my parents visiting, I believed those items weren't suitable for their stay. I discreetly removed the pillowcase and concealed the body pillow in the closet, and hid the mousepad in our bedroom drawer.

Upon their arrival, my parents were shown to their room, and later, Jeff noticed the changes. That night, he addressed the issue, challenging why I hid them. I explained that it was to ensure my parents’ comfort. He was clearly upset and felt that I was embarrassed by his interests in anime, accusing me of reacting like everyone else who had judged him over the years.

The following day, he began packing away his manga books from our living room. He defended his actions by suggesting he was safeguarding me from discomfort. This whole episode has been distressing; he's withdrawn and barely interacts with my folks. They sense something's off and keep questioning me, leaving me grappling with what to explain.

I'm torn; my intent wasn’t to hurt him but to manage the situation thoughtfully. Now, Jeff's feelings are hurt, and it has created a cold tension during what was supposed to be a happy family visit.

If this conflict was a segment on a reality TV show, the reactions would probably be explosively divided. Viewers might side with my protective nature regarding my parents' comfort, while others could argue that I should embrace Jeff's interests openly, regardless of the visit. Reality shows thrive on such drama, often amplifying the emotional stakes with dramatic music and cliffhanger cuts, possibly making the situation appear even more intense than it actually is. I can just imagine the online polls and social media buzz it would generate, questioning the balance between personal interests and respect towards one's partner.

Should I have respected my partner's interests more?

So, there's this thing that’s been bugging me about relationships, and I really need to get it off my chest. I'm 24, just your average guy, and I've got this amazing girlfriend. But here's the kicker: I can't help but feel that I'm way out of her league in terms of looks. You ever had that nagging feeling? Like, she's a total knockout, and I'm just... me. It's not like I don’t trust her or anything, but it’s like this little devil is constantly whispering doubts in my ear. Annoying, right? I know confidence is supposed to be attractive, and I'm usually not too shabby at faking it, but in the quiet moments, self-doubt creeps in. You start questioning everything: “Does she really like me for who I am, or is she just settling for now?” Real talk, it sucks being stuck in that mindset, questioning your self-worth. And yes, I've read all the self-help articles and the whole “You should be grateful she’s with you” spiel. But gratitude doesn’t chase away insecurities, does it?

I keep asking myself if there's a way out of this insecurity abyss without turning into one of those jealous partners. You know the ones I’m talking about, right? The ones who constantly check their partner's phone or make passive-aggressive comments. Not a good look. The clichés don’t cut it either – like “be confident in your own skin” or “just talk to her about it.” Talking is great, but what if you bring up your insecurities and it just makes things awkward? I can't help but wonder if acknowledging these doubts puts a strain on what’s otherwise an awesome relationship. It’s like walking a tightrope. Ever heard the saying, “The more you know, the less you need to show”? Sometimes I feel like keeping my insecurities to myself is protecting our relationship from unnecessary drama. But then I circle back to thinking, “Am I being honest with her, or am I putting on an act?” It’s a real conundrum, balancing honesty with self-esteem. Maybe the answer is somewhere in between, like finding a way to work on myself without dragging her into it. Is it too much to ask for a society where we don’t measure attractiveness by looks alone? Anyway, if anyone has magic advice or just wants to share their two cents, I'm all ears.

At the age of 45, I've encountered numerous challenges, especially when it comes to family dynamics and responsibilities. My sister, ten years my senior, has consistently been the recipient of our parents' financial and emotional support throughout her life. She has two adult children, aged 30 and 32, and up until recently, they all lived together in our parents' home. Unfortunately, our parents have both passed away—first our mother and then our father. Following our mother’s passing, I took over managing my father's finances and subsequently began to phase out the financial support my sister had grown accustomed to receiving.

Once our father passed, I was left to handle the aftermath, which included the decision to sell the family home. This came as a shock to my sister and her children; they couldn’t understand why they needed to relocate. I explained that there was simply no one left to bear the financial burden of maintaining the house. They managed to find a rental property, and eventually, my nephew purchased his own home, where he now lives with his new wife.

Here's where I struggle and question my actions. My sister is now living with my nephew and his new wife. They are trying to start a fresh chapter in their lives. Meanwhile, I have also moved on, marrying my long-time boyfriend and beginning a new chapter myself. For years, I prioritized the needs and desires of my family over my own ambitions and desires. This leads me to question: am I in the wrong for not offering to house my sister to ease the transition for my nephew's burgeoning family?

Imagine if this scenario unfolded on a reality TV show. Viewers would likely be split in their opinions, with some arguing that family should always come first, no matter the personal cost, while others might champion the importance of setting boundaries and fostering independence in adult family members. The drama and emotional conflicts would surely make for compelling television, sparking debates and discussions in living rooms and on social media alike.

I'm left wondering what the standard protocol is in these situations. Should I have sacrificed my own happiness and progress to provide for my sister, or have I done enough by steering her towards independence?

I'm a 48-year-old father with two sons, Thomas who is 15, and Jack who's 12. Thomas is practically my twin, both in appearance and in his love for all things nerdy, which mirrors my own interests. On the other side, Jack couldn't be more different. Since he was little, he never showed an ounce of interest in what Thomas and I enjoyed. His passion lies in sports, a trait he picked up from my brother who influenced him heavily during the years he lived with us. Unsurprisingly, Jack pestered my wife and me until we reluctantly agreed to let him join a baseball team, despite my personal distaste for sports, stemming from my own childhood experiences as an outsider among sporty kids.

Now at 12, Jack's personality reminds me painfully of the sports-obsessed kids who used to bully me. His behavior towards his older brother is becoming problematic, often resulting in him sabotaging Thomas's computer games or stealing his snacks, which only adds to my reservations about sports.

Recently, Jack expressed a strong desire to transfer to a school renowned for its sports programs. I outright refused, emphasizing the dangers of football and insisting he attend the same private school as his brother, focusing solely on academics. The suggestion of engaging in drama or music instead was met with outright hostility and profanity from Jack, leading to a significant argument and my decision to cut his sports activities short and confiscate his phone—a decision my wife quickly vetoed, revealing plans were already made behind my back to enroll him in the different school.

The argument with my wife escalated as I felt my authority being undermined. She called me unreasonable, accusing me of overreacting, but I stand by my view that prioritizing sports over education is a mistake, even if they think my disapproval of Jack's choices is too harsh.

If all of this drama played out on a reality TV show, I bet the audience would be split. Some would definitely side with me, believing in strict parenting and the importance of academics, while others might view my actions as too controlling and unsupportive of my son's athletic aspirations. With cameras rolling, my heated discussions would probably be high drama, sparking lots of viewer comments about family dynamics and the right balance in parenting.

What's your take on handling disagreements about school choices?

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

I feel terrified of going outside and being completely judged for it. I don’t like talking, I don’t like expressing myself. I don’t even feel capable of being with a girl. I don’t want to be with one. I feel like I’ve become a mess of ideas—so many ideas. Like I’m shedding layers of myself.

I feel like I’m not okay—but also that I am. I feel like I’ve been in a transformation process for a long time now. Like I’m moving toward my true self, peeling off old layers of experiences. I used to think I had matured, but really, I had just kept layering one cover over another. I don’t know how else to explain it.

It feels like I’ve been unfolding my form. This has been happening for quite some time. I think it’s because I finally feel whole in a new group. Yes, I feel like I belong—with a girl, specifically—and I love that feeling. It’s been going on for a while now, I repeat. She’s not physically present, but the way we are keeps the group alive. I don’t feel the need to be with anyone else. Being distant from her makes me feel her presence even more. I feel like I can be alone—but still in her company—and it’s truly amazing.

My parents didn’t understand this, but personally, I don’t care. The process is happening either way. These are the catharses I’m experiencing. I don’t feel like there’s anyone else out there waiting for me—and I don’t need them. I feel like my life is on track, and I can live the way I like. In this group, I feel that’s respected—and it’s fantastic. I’ve committed to pursuing a career, and I rely only on the approval of the principles this group shares.

Looking back, all that time I supposedly "got sick" or "went through somatic suffering"—I think I was really just trying to re-locate myself within this group and within the system that surrounds us. It’s like saying: I’m done with the old societal structure, with the weight of those layers. Here, in this group, we are free. Again, I don’t feel I need anyone else.

These catharses—what I say—are just to release things. I speak things about myself, but they’re temporary. It’s like I’m passing through them. I think I’m heading toward something, but I realize I only needed to shed that layer—to see that I never really wanted that thing. I don’t know, but I feel like this process I’m going through isn’t something many people experience—maybe no one. It’s about leaving behind all the groups you once belonged to. You feel like you belong to just one now, and all the others are just places you visit occasionally.

I feel like I’ve always been okay. I was never truly unwell. I just needed—without realizing it and even fooling myself—to reposition myself within society. Now I understand all the disappointment I’ve felt. I thought I wanted to be with a girl—and it turns out I don’t. Especially not one outside my group. I feel more distant from her. I don’t know what to do with those feelings I had for her. Whether she’s around or not makes no difference—same goes for her mother.

Life is happening. Nothing feels the same anymore. No one believed me—and I didn’t even need them to. I thought I had forgotten about this group. Maybe I did. But I now realize it was a version of it where she, the girl from my group, was someone who abandoned me and hurt me. And now she’s not. Being in this group makes her devoted and respectful—and I love that. Before, I felt like she was spiraling toward a nightmare that could’ve even ended her life—God forbid—with something as terrible as a knife. I hope I was wrong.

I don’t know what comes next for my life. I’ve never faced something like this. It’s all been about letting myself be carried by the current—and that’s it. Like I entered a kind of crisis only to come out the other side, finally shining. I don’t know if I wish things had been different. Probably not. I feel like I’m in a much better place now, where I’m allowed to bloom on my own terms. I didn’t feel that before. This group is about feelings, not about upholding painful old paradigms—a bitter photo album that, in my opinion, is always ugly.

It’s amazing how that other girl—the different one—has become almost a ghost to me. Hearing her mother’s distant voice, feeling how, as I got closer to them, they faded further away… it was indescribable. Psychologically, despite the distance, I feel closer to the girl in my group. And I think that’s the whole point. Because with her, I sense a real structure—something genuine. Not like in my family, where all they focused on was finding flaws. That was bitter through and through.

I feel like I’m in paradise—even though I’m still in the same house, in the same place. The people around me might be nearby physically, but they can’t really reach me. I’m a stranger to them now. Just like she, the girl in my group, is a stranger to her environment. In fact, she was already acting that way the last time I saw her in person. It’s clear now: her spirit was already with me—expressed in the way I feel so deeply supported by her.

I might be stepping on some toes here, but there’s an unavoidable issue we need to address regarding life coaching. While it may seem controversial, I believe that the concept of coaching another person's life raises several ethical concerns.

Firstly, let's acknowledge that individuals with a diverse and challenging past might feel motivated to offer advice based on their experiences. This intention, typically stemming from a desire to help, is largely well-meaning. I'm not accusing life coaches of having malicious intents. However, it’s imperative that they approach coaching with a sense of humility, openly discussing their own faults and failures when guiding others. Omitting these personal struggles can come across as arrogance or even condescension.

Many life coaches are exceptionally intelligent, possess great public speaking skills, and are adept at marketing themselves through books and seminars. These talents, while commendable, can sometimes lead to a superiority complex where they seem to imply, "Look how I succeeded, you should emulate me". This attitude, characterized by a lack of humility and an unwillingness to acknowledge personal flaws, doesn't inspire respect but may border on narcissism.

It’s more impactful when someone admits to ongoing struggles, such as saying, "I have a tough time with this even today". This kind of honesty fosters connection and trust more than the often-hollow appearance of having a perfect life.

From an outsider's standpoint, the best approach for a life coach is to embrace imperfection and stop projecting an image of flawlessness. I've observed that not all life coaches exhibit an egoistic attitude, but it's prevalent enough to raise concerns.

Just to be clear, I'm no saint myself. I tend to overthink, I can be quick-tempered, and my organization skills often leave much to be desired. I look forward to possibly contentious replies that may just prove my point, or perhaps some reflective responses that consider the value of genuine self-disclosure in life coaching.

Imagine if I voiced these opinions on a reality show. The reaction would likely be polarizing – some might praise the candor, while others could criticize it as being overly harsh or unsupportive of individuals working in the life coaching industry. How would the viewers respond to such blunt critique in a setting known for drama and heightened emotions?

Ugh, this is so annoying. I swear, I don’t even want to think about him but my brain just won’t shut up. Like, I’ll be doing the most random thing—scrolling on my phone, eating cereal, literally trying to do anything else—and boom, there he is. Just pops in my head like some kinda glitch. And it’s not even always something big, sometimes it’s just like… the way he smiled that one time, or how he said my name in this certain way that made my stomach do that dumb little flip thing. And then I sit there, thinking about it, replaying it in my head like a freaking movie, like why am I like this??? And the worst part is, I don’t even know if he likes me back. Like, yeah, he talks to me, yeah, he laughs at my jokes (even when they’re not funny lol) but does that actually mean anything? Or is he just nice?? I hate this, I hate not knowing, I hate how one person can just exist and suddenly I have zero control over my own thoughts anymore. Like bro, chill, I’m tryna live my life, not sit here daydreaming about some guy who probably isn’t even thinking about me rn.

And then there's the overthinking part. Like, every time we talk, I analyze everything. Did he mean something when he texted first? Why did he take five hours to respond? Did he look at me longer than normal today, or am I just insane? Like I swear, my brain should come with an off switch. And don’t even get me started on social media. One second I’m just casually checking my feed, next thing I know, I’m on his profile, scrolling waaaaay too far down, like some kinda detective, tryna figure out who that girl in his comment section is and why she’s reacting to his stories with heart emojis. And then I get mad at myself cuz why do I even care?? It’s not like we’re dating, it’s not like I have some claim over him, but still, the idea of him liking someone else makes me feel weird. And it’s so dumb because if I just knew he liked me back, all of this would be so much easier. But nope, instead I’m just stuck in this cycle of thinking, overthinking, trying to ignore him, failing miserably, then thinking about him even more. It’s honestly exhausting. Like, how do people just not care? How do people just move on with their lives and not spend half their time obsessing over every little thing?? Cuz at this point, I feel like my brain is basically holding me hostage, and the only way out is if he either confesses his undying love for me (lol as if) or I somehow figure out how to delete my feelings. Either way, I just wish I could stop thinking about him for like, one second. Is that too much to ask???

For my husband's birthday, I decided to surprise him with a homemade two-layer banana cake, knowing his appreciation for the flavor, despite his lactose intolerance. To accommodate his dietary restrictions, I meticulously prepared both a vegan frosting and a delightful vegan toffee sauce, which I was proud of. As we prepared to sing "Happy Birthday," I excitedly mentioned the special cake and its vegan components while he approached the dessert table.

Unexpectedly, in front of all our guests, he questioned the point of baking him a cake at all, given he hadn't enjoyed them for years. His blunt response left me feeling deeply wounded, especially since I had hoped to make his day special. It confused me further because whenever I bought him banana cake from our local bakery, he seemed to genuinely enjoy it, often praising it.

Despite the awkward moment, I tried to maintain a cheerful demeanor for the remainder of the party. Afterward, he sensed my dismay and inquired if I was alright. I expressed my disappointment and vowed never to bake for him again, to which he oddly thanked me, adding that I should have known better, making me feel even worse.

Compounding the situation was the fact that we share the same birthday, and I had also prepared a separate chocolate cake for myself, which now felt more like a solace than a celebration.

Can you imagine if this scenario played out on a reality show? Cameras rolling as the tension unfolds, capturing every nuance of the interaction and likely amplifying our expressions and reactions for dramatic effect. Viewers would probably be divided, with some sympathizing with my attempt to personalize a thoughtful gesture and others possibly siding with my husband, thinking perhaps there was some unspoken backstory explaining his harsh reaction. The discussion panels would buzz, and social media would light up with opinions and possibly even memes, turning our private moment into a public spectacle.

I certainly felt alone and misunderstood in that moment, but how would I have handled the amplified pressure of public judgment? Would the added scrutiny help mend our miscommunication, or would it drive a deeper wedge between us?

these days im not in the mood to go anywhere. my friend is getting married this week and she lives farrrr away from me. it took 4 hours from my place to go hers and im scared if i go there, it will not reach my expectation (in a simple words, im scared getting ignored since it has been more than 5 years we didnt meet).

i also have concert on december but im not in the mood to go (thinking to resell the tix) and i feel like the possibilities of me getting disappointed is higher than happy and satisfied. i feel like if i want to get my sparks back, i need to go to the concert but i feel like its not worth it..

does anyone know what am i going through actually? and is there any ways to make me feel contented again? :')