Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

What do you think!

My husband, Alex, and I, both in our early 30s, have been navigating marital waters for several years now, holding hands for over a decade. Throughout our relationship, we've encountered rough seas, particularly because of my in-laws' behavior, with my mother-in-law (MIL) at the helm of our troubles. She has exhibited a pattern of control and intrusion, not only towards Alex but towards me as well, often manipulating him to try and bend me to her will in matters that frankly don’t involve her. She's been overbearing, outright disrespectful, and quite invasive. Fortunately, outright insults directly to my face are the only trespasses she hasn't committed.

I've repeatedly expressed my frustration to Alex, pleading with him to address the situation more firmly. However, his efforts have been tepid, leaving her behavior unchecked.

For years, I plastered on a smile and kept silent to avoid drama, but the grievances have stacked up so high that I'm constantly on the brink of eruption whenever we visit. I’ve even suggested to Alex that we should minimize our interactions with them for a while, but he insists on maintaining our visits. He's not blind to the toll it takes on me.

On a recent visit, the familiar pattern unfolded. MIL began her usual antics, and I reached my limit. This time, I voiced my objections, challenging every inappropriate and invasive remark she made. Taken aback, she questioned my sudden outspokenness. In a measured but clear tone, fueled by years of pent-up frustration, I confronted her about her continual disrespect. I told her plainly that she was reaping the consequences of her actions, of beds made and now to be lain in.

The atmosphere turned icy, and we soon left. Though I felt a surge of liberation from standing up for myself, the fallout was palpable. Alex seemed torn, MIL incensed. He later admitted he understood my feelings but wished to keep the peace, suggesting I apologize.

I stood my ground, stating that any future reconciliation would require visible change and respectful behavior from her end—that I wouldn't apologize for my outburst as it was neither disrespectful nor unwarranted. I reminded him of the numerous opportunities he had to intervene and that I had warned him no one would like it if I had to take a stand. I had never yelled or insulted her, so the idea of apologizing for my reactions felt absurd.

Imagine if this confrontation had unfolded on a reality TV show. Cameras rolling, capturing every charged word and sharp glance—a spectacle indeed! The drama would undoubtedly be heightened, with viewers on the edge of their seats, perhaps even siding with me or criticizing my outspoken moment. Reality TV thrives on these raw, emotional exchanges, turning personal battles into entertainment. Would the public see me as a villain or a heroine standing her ground?

Ideally books from a library... Not digital... Cause digital books usually cost money to continue reading chapters... Or only allow you to have the 1st book free... And the sequels not-free😭!

My ideal books are honestly werewolf smut😑. And not the kind with a sh*t-ton of violence or "imma cage you and you submit to me" kinda books😅. I definitely like the books were there's an alpha female falling in love with another hot alpha! Alpha-alpha energies in such stories don't seem to mix well in werewolf lore but for my sludge brain... It should! And I'm personally into monogamy, but the books with 1 female, and 2-3 dude is super spicy😍!! It's even spicier when the dude are twins or triplets cause that's hecka funny when the MC gets super confused🤣!! Good comedy in a steamy romance😂! I usually like these werewolf setting to be in college, cause that's where I'm at right now.

Another type is college romance, spicy version. Yes, my brain is sludge, and I need to touch grass(thanks Bang Chan!)... But come on... They're fun, and usually college scenarios involve a lot of cute flirting and then... BAM!! Your roommate caught you kissing and you sludge-brains forgot to lock the door or put something on the door🤪!

Personally, my love live is non-existent... Recently single. Boring AF! I'm human🙋🏻‍♀️... By the way, if there are any werewolf believers. And according to werewolf lore... Specifically based on stereotypes... They have soulmates... Unfortunately, I'm human... And I'm stuck being a sludge brain without a mate. Also, the stories seem to insinuate that werewolf's don't particularly like the fact that their mates would be with other people before finding them. And there's the possessiveness, obsessiveness, gaslighting, and an odd amount of dominance... Which isn't something I'd personally want... As I prefer control. But on the outside, I basically look like one of the chubby anime cats that you see in those shows... Cute, soft, small, and I sorta have a cat-like personality.

Recently, my best pal and I embarked on an adventure to the UK. Holding a UK passport due to my British father, I faced no issues with entry, unlike my friend who required a visa. Our travel plan included a layover in France, followed by a connecting flight to the UK.

Unfortunately, our onward journey hit a snag when the connecting flight got canceled. The next available flying option was scheduled for 2 PM the following day, resulting in an unexpected 17-hour wait. While the airline arranged complimentary hotel accommodations for stranded passengers, this privilege was not extended to my friend. Her visa restrictions meant she couldn't leave the airport and had to stay in a designated area brightly lit round the clock, accompanied by the constant din of nearby construction work. Seating was scarce, forcing her to resort to sleeping on the floor. To top it off, a mishap earlier had rendered our phone chargers useless after a water spill, and her phone battery was dwindling at 40%.

Faced with a choice, I opted to take advantage of the hotel stay, leaving my friend at the airport. This decision of mine didn't sit well with her; she accused me of abandoning her in her time of need. She expressed her fear and discomfort about staying alone in an unfamiliar and intimidating environment, and how much she had hoped for my company to ease her anxiety. Despite her protests and calling me self-centered, I justified my action by my exhaustion, having not slept for over a day. I felt staying together in discomfort was unnecessary when I had an alternative. However, this led her to question our friendship altogether.

Imagine this scenario like being on a reality show. The cameras capturing every moment of emotional upheaval and the public judging each decision. Viewers would likely be split; some might sympathize with my need for rest in the comfort of a hotel, while others might criticize me for not showing solidarity with my friend in a tough situation.

If this story was pitched in a reality setting, I wonder, would the audience have been more forgiving, or harsher in their judgment on me abandoning a friend in distress?

I wonder if people might think I did the right thing by choosing to rest in a hotel?

I've been homeschooled my whole life. I've always hated it and left me to feel bitter. I saw my friends who went to public or private schools, they told me I was lucky, yet they were the ones who had friends, relationships, even the resources at school that helped them with their education. I had none of those. For me, I would wake up, go on my computer, finish my school, and stay home. I begged my mother to put me into public school when I reached 9th grade, didn't happen. Best she could do was enroll me into a virtual school, not any better since it was the exact same lifestyle. The only way my mother would comfort me was tell me about College, how when I got to college I'll meet so many people and start my life. Everyone told me that. That was what I held onto during my years, it was the only thing that kept me going. I worked hard, had a great GPA, did a lot of strong extracurriculars, take strong classes. Long story short, college admissions season has ended, and I basically got into none of the schools in my state that I wanted to go to. Every out of state school that I applied to and wanted to go so badly accepted me, all with scholarships. But it's too expensive, I have no financial aid since my family makes too much, but they said they won't help cover costs if I go out of state. The only in state school that accepted that is decent quality is 20 minutes away from my house, I'll get a car at least. To make it even better, it's known as a commuter school, social life is dry from what I've heard. All of my friends got into their dream schools, schools that they should be proud of, meanwhile Im ashamed. I thought it would finally be my time, something would finally happen. But nope. I'll be at my home, doing the same routine I have done my whole life. Nothing will change. I'll never go to a football game with friends, I'll never live in a dorm, I'll never know the thrill of being on my own. I wanted so badly to have that. So badly to live. Know I just feel empty and bitter and I keep thinking about all the "what ifs". I've never had the average teenage experience, hell, I haven't even had my first kiss. Now I will never have what I have only been dreaming of my whole life. I can't even begin to explain the absolute despair I am feeling. I thought things would be different, I thought I would be celebrating, not mourning the life I will never have. What stories will I tell to my children? I don't have any.

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?

All my life, been waging war in my mind, been waiting for something right, been waiting for sun to shine. Apathy, the friend of my enemy. Another blind visionary. I never cry, but I bleed. Tell me, what does it feel like to feel anything again? I know that it takes time, but this never ends, and I'm starting to realize: The glass half empty's been just a way to be baptized in the taste of your own medicine. Don't tell mom. Tell her it's just a song. Tell her I'm holding on. I'm sorry I missed her call. What this wasn't what I wanted? Can I return the life I've started? Just 14 years, and I'm exhausted. Guess we're calling this normal. Tell me, what does it feel like to feel anything again? I know that it takes time, but this never ends, and I'm starting to realize: The glass half empty's been just a way to be baptized in the taste of your own medicine. And I call it a cry for help. You call it song lyrics. But as long as I force a smile, I guess we'll just ignore it. I just hope that someday, someone will love me.

Yesterday marked another year for my dad, and the family gathering was quite something to behold. Present were my sister Laura, our other sister Jane, our aunt and uncle, along with our three cousins. Among them, our cousin Olivia, who recently had her daughter raise some commiserations over a broken ankle requiring crutches. At the party, Laura's son, Nathan, 13, and Olivia's daughter, Emma, 12, were the juniors present.

The children spent their time in the living room while the adults busied themselves in the kitchen. We paid little mind to the youngsters, believing them mature enough to steer clear of any real mischief. However, a loud crash followed by a burst of yelling abruptly drew us all to the scene. Rushing in, we found Nathan and Emma in a tangle over a crutch. Emma was seated, struggling to maintain her balance, and Nathan was behind her, evidently the instigator in the scuffle. The confrontation ended with Emma toppling backward off the couch, crying.

It emerged that Nathan, in a bizarre act, had hurled one of Emma’s crutches down the basement stairs and was in the process of doing the same with the other. After confirming Emma wasn’t gravely injured, her mother Olivia began interrogating Nathan with a mix of concern and frustration, raising her voice but not exactly shouting. Several others chimed in, but Laura swiftly defended her son, asserting “He’s just a kid; no one’s hurt.”

This rationale seemed flimsy to me because, first, Emma could have been seriously injured, and second, Nathan is 13—an age at which such recklessness should be more controlled. I voiced my opinion that “just a kid” might apply to those under 11, but certainly not a teenager.

Laura was noticeably upset by the reactions, particularly mine. I truly don’t understand why Nathan acted so carelessly. Perhaps he thought it was funny? Laura’s irritation makes me wonder if I overstepped, but honestly, what was that about?

Imagining this incident featured on a reality show, would the public take my side, seeing Nathan’s actions as flat-out dangerous, or would they sympathize with Laura, viewing the backlash as an overreaction? The drama and debates that follow such a scene could be endless, heightening tensions or perhaps even drawing a clear line on parenting views under public scrutiny.

If this were a scenario on a reality show, how might the audience react?

(Convo I had with my bf this morning, we started off talking about Papa by Rosendale)

me: yeah so I can’t play that song for my dad bc of that one part, he’s gonna be like “oH tHIs Guy Is TRaNS???” nah man he’s just gay

him: heh… your boyfriend is trans!

(there were two kids behind who went to the same middle school as us and had just heard that)

me: (nervous) the fact that you just said that with those two behind us (laughs it off nervously)

him: OH SHI- oh well I don’t care what they think

me: yeah, well I do… (I turned and went down the nearest stairway, usually me and him go down the second stairs instead of the first and hang out under the stairs over there, but I went down the first and then just went to class as fast as possible)

like I know he doesn’t care what people think but I do and he probably knows that

this was actually so upsetting I immediately found my friend/platonic child Allen (not real name) and vented to him about it like-

Three years into our marriage, my husband Mark and I, along with our young son, decided to relocate from Canada to Germany due to economic issues at home. We settled in Hannover, close to where Mark grew up. The move was exciting, and initially, everything felt like a fresh start.

The day after our arrival, we visited Mark’s family—it was only my second time meeting them since our wedding. They welcomed us warmly, making quite a fuss over my son, which was endearing at first. However, in the subsequent months, things took a turn. During our visits, I noticed they would often switch to German when discussing me—commenting on my appearance, my style, and even my pregnancy, which I was already sensitive about.

Disturbed by these revelations, I confided in Mark about the hurtful remarks I overheard. He assured me he’d speak to them about their behavior. It seemed to work because their offensive remarks stopped, at least for a short while.

When our daughter Lilith was born—a name deeply rooted in my family's tradition despite its evocative meanings like “night” or “ghost”—his family couldn’t hide their disapproval. This criticism was tough, leading me to distance myself from them for a while.

Recently at a family gathering for my mother-in-law's birthday, the rudeness reached a new height. As guests fawned over baby Lilith, my mother-in-law grew visibly irate due to the diverted attention. I was already struggling with postpartum depression and was not comfortable with people handling my newborn. During dinner, I overheard my sister-in-law bitterly criticizing me to my mother-in-law in German, calling me derogatory names.

Fed up, I confronted them in fluent German, expressing that I’ve understood their jibes all this time, but insulting me directly was unacceptable. The table erupted in chaos—everyone blaming me for the outburst. Overwhelmed, Mark and I left, and we’ve not engaged with them since.

Thinking about the outcome makes me wonder, if my story was part of a reality show, how might audience reactions be shaped? Reality TV thrives on conflict and dramatic reactions, and no doubt, this unsettling family dinner would make a compelling episode. Viewers might side with me for standing up to the harsh treatment or perhaps criticize me for my response to the family’s behavior. It's fascinating and a bit alarming to think of personal strife as a public spectacle, but it could also be a platform to discuss genuine issues like postpartum depression and family dynamics.

Am I bad here???

My spouse, Annie, performed as a corporate attorney and mediator. She owned an array of stylish professional attire, fit for her demanding role. Tragically, she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer and passed away within two years. The final six months were particularly grueling.

Throughout this tough period, my sister, Melissa, offered barely any support. Annie and Melissa never really got along—they shared a tense relationship at best—and honestly, I share a similar sentiment towards Melissa. I find her rather self-centered. At Annie’s wake, Melissa had the audacity to inquire about her clothes, hinting she wanted to keep some as mementos. I deflected her requests nonchalantly.

It’s been six months since Annie's passing, and just recently, at my mother’s birthday celebration, I found myself still grappling with grief and not quite ready for social interactions. Yet there was Melissa again, pestering me about the clothes.

I told her that Annie had expressed wishes to donate her wardrobe to a local women's shelter, an organization she fervently supported. The clothing would assist women who needed to dress appropriately for court appearances or job interviews. Melissa snapped, accusing Annie of being selfish even in death, ranting about how Annie always saw herself as superior, and it was unfair that the clothes were going to charity instead of family.

Frustrated, I retorted that I would much rather burn the clothes than see them worn by her. Melissa broke down in tears, and my mother intervened, albeit scolding me instead, urging me to go easy on Melissa because she supposedly took the loss of Annie hard.

The absurdity that escaped from my mother’s mouth was too much—I grabbed my gift and exited promptly. My mother seemed to think that my reaction had spoiled her birthday, but the emotional manipulation over mere clothes which they had no claim over was astonishing.

In a hypothetical scenario where this familial drama unfolded on a reality show, one could only imagine the heightened reactions and possibly a split in viewer opinions. Reality television thrives on conflict, and a situation charged with strong emotional grievances, family conflict, and moral debates like this could escalate dramatically on screen. Audiences might rally behind my point of view, empathizing with the respect towards Annie’s last wishes, or perhaps they would view me as too harsh on my grieving sister, igniting debates across fan forums and social media.

Am I wrong here???

It’s really weird but for months now the only thing i’ve really been able to think about are just worries and this one show. I don’t know if this is the place to share this kind of stuff but i need to just say this. It feels like one of the only things i seem to talk about- everything is a reference. I keep catching myself in class not focusing because i’m thinking about the show and doodling the characters in my school books to help me understand the stuff. It’s mildly embarrassing now that i admit it, but it’s the truth. And it even MORE awkward since nobody i know irl likes it as much as i do.

I’m not sure why i can’t stop thinking about it. One of my friends suspects it’s like a hyper fixation, but i don’t think im neurodivergent. I don’t even know if hyper fixations are only for neurodivergent people (i haven’t done much research on it, sorry if i sound ignorant) but oh my goodness the show is EVERYWHERE. Is this just some sort of normal thing that happens? I mean, it’s not entirely bad, but i fear i’m annoying people around me with how much i like the show and i worry for my grades.

Currently, we’re providing shelter to my sister Helen and her family after their house suffered damage from Hurricane Helene (yep... bad naming coincidence...). We’ve set some ground rules while they stay with us: they must respect our space, her boys are not allowed in my daughter Lucy’s room, and they need to move out as soon as their home is repaired.

Unfortunately, Helen's sons disregarded these rules and entered Lucy's room, rummaging through her belongings. They discovered one of Lucy’s special compression bras, which she uses for her theater roles. Since she’s been involved in drama from a young age, this bra, which resembles a tank top, is essential for when she needs to portray a boy or a young girl by flattening her chest to suit the character better.

The situation escalated when Helen found the bra and discarded it.

We only noticed it was missing when Lucy was organizing her theatre kit for a play rehearsal. She’s due to play Viola in her school’s rendition of "Twelfth Night," and this bra is vital for her costume. It wasn't just any item; it cost us $50 as most of Lucy's theatre expenses like makeup and costumes are covered by us.

I approached Helen about the issue, insisting she reimburse us so we could replace the item. However, Helen resisted, citing her financial hardships and questioning the appropriateness of Lucy owning such an item. She used the phrase "boys will be boys" to dismiss her sons' behavior. Our mother has always been lenient towards Helen and thinks I’m being overly strict, especially considering Helen's current status as a financially struggling single mother without a home.

All I want is for my daughter’s possessions to be replaced. Is it unreasonable to expect that?

If this scenario unfolded on a reality TV show, viewers might witness heightened drama with hosts and audience reactions potentially split. Some might sympathize with the plight of a family losing their home, while others could argue the importance of respecting belongings and personal space, creating a polarized viewer response.

How would you feel if your relative discarded your belongings?

a dude cold opened me a few days ago and asked me out i panicked and gave him my info/said yes (i know! not good for either of us!) and yesterday we went on a date. he was perfectly nice and im sure it "went well," but i truly wasn't feeling it at all. i don't know him, i found out he was 28 (im 19, we're both college students and he saw me on campus so it's not like a creeper thing), im just not that interested in dating... i turned down a second date last night over text and i have yet to look at his texts back. i dont feel bad about turning him down, but i just feel really embarrassed and guilty about the whole situation. it sucks!!!!!

I’ve been asking myself this question a lot lately, but every time the words am I gay cross my mind, I push them away, like if I don’t think about it, it’ll just go away. Except it doesn’t. I’m 32 years old, and I feel like I should have figured this out by now. But here I am, sitting in my apartment after another long day at work, replaying every moment in my life that’s ever made me question myself. I mean, I’ve always liked women—or at least, I thought I did. I’ve had girlfriends, I’ve been in love, and I’ve genuinely been attracted to women. But then why does this other side of me exist? The side that wonders why I sometimes feel something different when I look at a guy. The side that gets this weird flutter in my stomac when a certain type of guy walks by or when I watch a movie and find myself paying way too much attention to the male lead instead of the actress everyone else is drooling over. I tell myself it’s nothing, just admiration, but at some point, admiration starts feeling a lot like attraction.

It’s not like I’ve never questioned it before. There were moments, little things throughout my life that should’ve made me stop and think. Like that time in college when my friend put his arm around me, and it sent this unexpected rush through me. Or the way I felt weirdly nervous around a certain guy I worked with a few years ago, even though I told myself I just thought he was cool. But I never let myself go further than that. I never really explored it because I didn’t need to, right? I was dating women, and I liked them, so that meant I was straight. Case closed. Except, now, after years of ignoring it, it’s like my brain won’t let it go anymore. It’s not just a passing thought that I can laugh off or push aside—it’s sticking with me, making me wonder if I’ve been lying to myself this whole time. What if I never questioned it before because I never gave myself the space to? Wat if I’ve been so caught up in doing what’s expected, in playing the part, that I never stopped to ask myself what I actually want?

The scary part is, I don’t even know where to go from here. How do you figure this out when you’ve already built a life on the assumption that you’re straight? Do I just start dating guys? Do I tell someone? And if I do, what if I’m wrong? What if this is just some passing phase or overthinking spiral, and I make a huge deal out of something that doesn’t even need to be a deal at all? I wish there was some test, some clear-cut answer that would just tell me, yes, you are gay or no, you’re just overanalyzing everything. But there’s not. And that’s what makes this so confusing. Maybe I’m bi, maybe I’m just figuring myself out late, or maybe I’m reading into things too much. All I know is, I can’t keep pushing it away. I don’t want to look back 10 years from now and wonder what would’ve happened if I’d been brave enough to actually face this. Maybe the real question isn’t am I gay, but what happens if I let myself find out?