Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

So about 2 weeks ago my best friend found out one of the girls he was talking too was also talking to me and he also found out we had sex 2 nights prior.. So he hit me up on a friday like any other weekend and said he wanted to hang out so I invited him over. As soon as he got there i was already in my pajama pants bc it was like 8:00 at night and these pants are kinda thick bc they are like a fuzzy material (but they are no where near as thick as blue jeans which is why he caused so much damage i think) and i didnt have underwear on bc of how soft the pants were i didnt really need any but anyways, he immediately brought up the situation and I told him it wasn't that big of a deal and as soon as I said that he reached between my legs with one hand and grabbed and pulled my dick upwards and kinda twisted it leaving my balls wide open and he was really able to get a grip on it bc i wasnt wearing underwear and with his other hand he punched me in the balls 4 times it was enough force i remember it making my eyes roll back and it made me moan which was kinda strange but that was just a natural sound that came out i went to the doctor 3 days after it happened bc the swelling never went down but all the doctor said was they were going to be extremely sore for a couple weeks they are still a little swollen now and extremly sore but the girl that started all this has no idea what happened and I plan on keeping it that way lol

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

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

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

Tw grooming and suicide

I (15 almost 16) am in a perpetual self imposed hell. my abuser (20 almost 21) showed back up after months of completely abandoning me and you know, I thought that would make me feel better because wow. They kept their promise, they didn’t lie and leave me with this gaping hole in my chest. not really. The months they left were hell, my intrusive thoughts about being groomed quite literally crippled me to the point I commit suicide, got landed in the psychward for a while, and could not return to a normal headspace. I don’t know if i can say it’s worse but it’s not better, well that’s a lie. It’s better in the sense that I feel more normal to know they’re around, suddenly overwhelming intensity of the intrusive thoughts are gone. There’s the illusion that im okay. But now im even more dependent on them than before, while they were away I decided if I got a second chance I would do or give anything to keep them, to the point I’d ditch all my friends and family if they decided they actually loved me again. Currently, as further proof of how serious I am im cheating on my partner (15) for them, and I know I should give my all to someone who actually cares about me, I truly don’t deserve my partner but it feels fundamentally wrong to date anyone who isn’t hurting me. Maybe im just not meant for it. I’m planning to break up with my partner soon because I don’t want to betray them further while parasitically zapping all of their goodwill, but I can’t tell what the right way to do it is. I’m selfishly holding on.

It hurts me so much that I let you do all that shit to me and yet i still feel so disposable to you . Maybe thats how I’ll make my partner feel if they find out about all this shit, and then I’ll really be like my abuser. Am I not doing enough? I try to be interesting and suck up to your every whim, im different than when you left me. im entirely devoted to you, I try to give you space even though it feels like death. Maybe I should be more grateful you’re giving me the time of day at all. Be that 1-3 messages on average. Since we’re both a mistake of human beings this should suffice. Still, everytime you’re cold or short with me I feel so worthless I could genuinely die, I want to. I know you’re tired, I know you’re depressed and can’t talk much but everytime you take hours to respond to me at all I feel like falling deeper into this shitty cycle of shitty people and I know damn well there’s no way I can live a normal life again after this, and I can’t help but doubt the fact that you love me at all. If you leave me I know I’ll have to kill myself, cuz then there’ll be nothing else left to stop my intrusive thoughts from torturing me. I’m so disgustingly miserable it’s insane.

Unfortunately for me, I want to be a creative person full time. There's been a series of attempts.

1 - Animation

I was a grade A student in high school and took lots of AP's including AP art and design. My councilors said with my grades my state's flagship school would be a good safety school and the Ivy's where a reasonable reach. She was wrong about that and it's all been downhill from that conversation. Long story short I couldn't get into an art school with a scholarship. I went to the ONLY state school to accept me, could never get an internship all 3 years (had enough AP's to graduate early), and graduating with my degree in animation at the top 10% of my class with a portfolio reviewed by and references from 2 emmy award winning animation professors didn't mean anything to studios. I would go to networking and hiring events, portfolio and resume reviews, talk to recruiters, get referrals, even move to LA. All for 0 job offers after years of trying.

2 - Design

While I was trying to get into animation I worked a graphic design job. It didn't pay enough, especially for LA, so I beefed up my college portfolio to highlight my motion design stuff and started applying. A year passed with no interviews and I got laid off. I got a certification in UX/UI design and applied there too. Another year passed. I assure you - whatever job advice you have (talk to recruiters, send out 100s of applications, tailor your applications, ask your dad to get you a job) - I did it! Multiple times. No luck.

3 - Self Employment

Throughout this entire stint I would have side hustles I tried (and failed) to get off the ground. I tried to be a gallery artist. Sold one drawing. Had a painting featured at the High Museum of Art. Did some local art fairs (and sold nothing). Absolutely no one else ever cared about representing my work despite it. Okay. Cool. There was an online original painting business - no sales. Online art prints - 10 sales in 2 years. Art on stuff (notebooks, zipper pouches, etc.) - 7 online sales and I made money at in-person markets but never enough to break even on the booth fee. Alright; fabulous.

4 - Marketing

After my layoff year from the graphic design job I got a job as a marketing operations coordinator - so not even doing the marketing. Just fetching virtual coffee so other people could do it. I decided to lean in. If art doesn't want me, maybe money will! I learned as much about marketing as I could to apply it to a future business attempt. I got my PMP certification and applied to project management jobs. You can probably guess how well this went.

5 - Self Employment Take 4 (current)

I still work that marketing job. My company laid off everyone but me and my boss' boss. The company is in shambles so there's not really a clear job for me right now other than sending bills to accounting. So artistic. So fulfilling. If I have to talk to META customer service one more time I'm going to crash out. Since the lay offs at the job I've been applying elsewhere to almost no avail. I had 3 rounds of interviews including one with the CEO for a better paying marketing job!!! They then paused hiring. Seems both art and money don't want me. I've started another business - a stationery shop. 11 sales in 5 months - so the marketing knowledge is helping me do a lot better. But I had a collection launch today to crickets that sent me into a bit of a spiral.

THE DILEMA

I keep trying as MUCH and as HARD as I can to make my career cooperate. It just refuses to go my way. Any advice I can find online assumes I haven't tried, didn't do some obvious thing, or some empty motivational platitudes like "you haven't quit until you stop trying (like as if I don't have bills to pay)" is going to help. I've started therapy and my therapist is very helpful on everything else - but on this topic he tends to tell me to just follow my dreams. I feel like he has to watch me show up every day and sponsor events for promotion and work with influencers for marketing and post to 5 social media platforms every day and start a mailing list and start a youtube channel and read marketing books and go to webinars by my local SCORE mentors (all things I'm doing BTW) and yet still make 0 progress after keeping this up for a year to understand what I'm talking about. There is NO lack of trying - but nothing ever works. I just can't seem to be a full time creative. I can't even do plan B and make enough money for an apartment. I don't know what else to do or how to deal with these feelings. I'm always searching for some kind of solution, but the truth is it takes hard work, time, and luck to be successful and luck is just not on my side at the moment. To anyone who read all this - how do you manage to live your life knowing what you truly want isn't coming to you? How would you stay motivated in business 4 and somehow believe it's going to work after all the previous failures? What am I doing wrong? Is this normal?

ever had one of those holiday flings that just knocked you on your ass???? well, that was me this summer. spent almost a month with this guy and damn, those were some of the best days of my life!!! first real love, you know??? now i'm back home and honestly, it feels like i'm missing a part of myself. it’s been 4 months and i can’t shake him off my mind. 🤷‍♀️

back then, everything was freaking perfect. sun, sea, and him—the trifecta!!!!!! we did all the typical touristy crap, but somehow, it never felt cliché, just magical. every night we'd hit up the beach, talk about shit, and it was like our souls were vibing, ya know? or maybe it was just the cocktails talking, hell if i know!!! one night, i swear, he said he loved me. and i believed it. god, was i naive for buying that??? but in the moment, i didn't give a damn. 😏💔

now back home, drowning in real life bullshit. college sucks, friends are the same old buzzkills, and doesn't help when all i think about is him. texting is alright, but it's sooooo different than hanging out. 🙄 long-distance blows. what’s the point?????? can’t help but wonder if he even misses me or moved on. was it all just a sick joke???? but if it was, why was it so damn sweet????

everyone says move on, "there's more fish in the sea," right???? i'm not buying that crap right now. it’s annoying how everyone pretends to know better. like, maybe I want to hold on to this pain a bit more, learn from it, i guess. love is a goddamn emotional rollercoaster. anyone else ride this hellish ride too???? honestly, i just want to scream and maybe slap some sense into myself. but hey, life goes on, yeah???? just wished he was still in it...

so a little update. I just found out that the best friend works only a few minutes away from me and he got this job after I moved out and he has to drive probably 30 minutes to work from where he lives. and another weird thing about it is that he has to drive directly past my neighborhood to get to work and I'm wondering if he did this on purpose or it's just some really weird coincidence beings as he had a bunch of other places he could have worked at closer to his house. this is probably the farthest Dollar tree he can work at compared to the many that are directly next to his house and so I'm wondering what I should do to prevent him from coming to the house. I'm scared that he's going to come to the house and do something once I report him and I don't know if he got this job as a way to get to me or what. what is your guys's best advice on what to do? I do have cameras outside and I'm going to check them to see if he's driven past my house because he does know where I live

I feel like I’ve fallen into another gaslighting-type relationship. My husband was so kind, sweet, thoughtful, and romantic when we were dating. Whdn i was sick, he'd bring my get well kits and help around my home. We were both upfront about who we were at the time and who we thought we’d continue to be, and I’ve definitely upheld my end of that—but I feel like he hasn’t since we got married

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Due to circumstances outside of me being pregnant at the time, we got married pretty quickly, and I happily gave up my saftey, dreams, and career to follow his dreams and career. I love/adore my husband, do everything i can to make his life easy and comfortable, even keeping track of pretty much everything since he is forgetful.

Over this past year, I’ve been feeling more and more drained in our relationship. I’m carrying most of the weight at home while he does very little, aside from playing with our children. If I want him to do anything beyond just existing, I have to ask. This wasn’t what was presented to me when we started our relationship.

Honestly, if he were working his butt off every day and rarely home, I’d understand more. But most days he’s home all day on his phone, does a couple of work-related things at late night that he easily could have done earlier, the complains about being tired the next day. He’ll leave trash or dishes around, mess up things I already tidied, and sometimes get snippy with me when I bring up legitimate concerns—like updating our address through his employer so I can submit insurance claims and get our money back.

I’m feeling less and less loved and supported, and more and more like a “mommy bang maid” again like I was in my last long term relationship. The only difference is that my husband married me and doesn’t scream or break things like my ex did.

I’ve spoken to him, but all he says is that things will get better when he’s not as tired and he's further along in his career. Of and that the stay-at-home parent does EVERYTHING at home while the working parent relaxes when they get home. It’s frustrating because his parents had a similar dynamic when he was a kid, and they’re both very adamant that the work parent his more than capable of help and that he needs to be helpful—but he’s still a complete slob and do anything period unless I ask multiple times. On the flip side, when he asks me for something, I jump up immediately.

On top of that, I’ve noticed our sex feels very one-sided, focused on his needs. The last time we had sex, and I'm not kidding, it lasted maybe two minutes before he was happily fast asleep leaving me with a mess to clean up.

Our house is nearly spotless all the time, I make good home-cooked meals, and I never turn him down. I stay put together and hygienic, and despite all this im treated like Dobby. I keep asking myself: "Why am I not enough to be loved the way I love my partner? What’s wrong with me?"

What's wrong with me?

Am I the only one who feels like thire alone even if they are in a room full of people .

I'm neurodivergent and this is a comment thing for me .

any one else who is neurodivergent fee like this or is it just me.

I never imagined I’d be the kind of woman who would ask that question. How to forgive my husband, this f***** cheater? Let alone a man who cheated twice. When I got married at 25, I thought I was building something solid, something lasting. My husband was my best friend, my partner, the father of my children. We shared dreams, built a home, raised two beautiful kids. And now, at 39, I feel like I’m standing in the ruins of what we built—still trying to convince myself it’s worth saving, even though every part of me feels tired, confused, and honestly… heartbroken.

The first time he cheated, it felt like the ground disappeared beneath me. I was blindsided. He said it was a mistake, that it didn’t mean anything. We went to therapy. He cried. I cried more. And I made the choice to stay—for our children, for our history, for the hope that maybe it really was just a mistake. I wanted to believe in redemption. I needed to. And for a while, things did get better. He seemed present again. Kinder. More involved with the kids, more engaged in our marriage. I let my guard down, started to trust again… and then he did it again. Different woman. Different time. Same betrayal.

That second time broke something in me. Not just trust, but a piece of my identity as a wife, a partner. I ask myself every day, am I weak for staying? Or strong for trying again? There’s no easy answer. Some mornings I wake up and feel like I should pack a bag and go. Other mornings, I look at our kids and think, how can I blow up their world just because I’m hurting? They love him. They need him. And he’s not a bad father—he’s just… a man who made selfish, hurtful decisions. But how do I reconcile that with the love I used to feel? With the way I used to look at him and see my future? Now I look at him and see a stranger I still share a bed with.

I’ve googled the question so many times—how to forgive a cheater, can a marriage survive infidelity, should I stay or leave. The advice always sounds so clean, so clear-cut. “Rebuild trust.” “Open communication.” “Set boundaries.” But in real life, it’s not that simple. It’s waking up next to someone whose phone buzzes and your stomach drops. It’s hearing “I love you” and wondering if he said that to her too. It’s putting on a smile for your children when all you want to do is scream. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at him again and not remember. And yet, I also don’t know how to fully walk away. I’m caught in between two impossible choices: stay and swallow the pain, or leave and shatter the only life I’ve known for nearly two decades.

I don’t have the answer yet. Maybe forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting. Maybe it’s something I’ll have to choose every day, even on the days when I hate him a little. Or maybe I’ll wake up one day and realize I’ve stayed too long. All I know is, I’m trying. Trying to be a good mom. Trying to make sense of a heart that still feels shattered. Trying to find myself again in the middle of all this. People talk about forgiveness like it’s a gift you give someone else, but I think, right now, it’s something I’m trying to give to myself—permission to hurt, to feel lost, to not have it all figured out. And maybe, eventually, to let go. Whether that means letting go of the anger, or of him entirely… I’m still not sure.

I remember when things were different between us. I remember the warmth in your eyes when you looked at me, how your voice would soften when you said my name, how your touch made me feel cherished. I used to believe with my whole heart that you truly cared about me and loved me. Now, I find myself questioning everything.It feels like your love has become conditional - as if I need to perform or give parts of myself away just to receive your attention. I've noticed that you respond when I offer my body, my time, my energy, my resources - but when I need emotional support, you seem to disappear. This pattern has left me feeling like an object rather than a partner. I feel like I must constantly earn your love rather than simply being worthy of it through who I am. The loneliness I feel even when we're together is overwhelming. I walk on eggshells around you, carefully measuring my words and actions, afraid that one wrong move will push you further away. Your love feels like it comes with fine print - conditions and clauses that I never agreed to but must somehow fulfill. Everything I worked so hard to build with us - the trust, the openness, the safety - seems to have vanished without explanation. When I try to express myself to you, it's as if my words evaporate before they reach you. You look at me, but you don't see me. You hear me, but you don't listen. The only time you seem truly engaged is when the conversation centers on things that make you feel good or validated. My pain, my concerns, my needs - these seem to be inconveniences to you rather than valid parts of our relationship that deserve attention.You say "I love you" with such ease, but those words ring hollow when not backed by action. Where is the affection that used to flow so naturally between us? Where are the small gestures that showed me I was on your mind? Where is the desire in your eyes that made me feel wanted? Your words and your actions tell two different stories, and the disconnect between them leaves me disoriented and questioning my own perceptions. Time after time, you claim you want to communicate and work through our issues. "Let's talk about it," you say. "I want us to work this out." But when the moment comes to actually do the hard work of relationship building, you check out. You offer surface-level responses or empty promises that things will improve. We both know the pattern by now - nothing changes. You go through the motions of caring without the substance of it. You create the illusion of effort without actually putting in any real work. Our nights have become a painful reminder of our disconnection. We go to bed with tension hanging in the air, issues unresolved, words unsaid. You turn away and fall asleep as if nothing is wrong, while I stare at the ceiling, replaying conversations and wondering what happened to us. Remember when we couldn't bear to end our days without hearing each other's voices? When falling asleep on the phone together was our ritual because we couldn't stand the separation? Now, days pass where we barely exchange meaningful words because you're always "too busy" for me. Yet somehow, in your supposedly packed schedule, you carve out time for her - the very person who betrayed our privacy by gossiping about our relationship. The same person you looked me in the eyes and promised you would distance yourself from. You hang out with her behind my back, constructing elaborate lies to cover your tracks, even though you know exactly how much this hurts me. It's as if my pain doesn't factor into your decisions at all. What cuts even deeper is how you deliberately bring her up in conversation, watching my reaction as if my discomfort provides some form of entertainment for you. When you casually mentioned that you used to have feelings for her, it was like a knife to my heart. That information serves no purpose except to make me feel insecure and question what's really happening between you two. Did you think about how that would affect me before you said it? Did you care? The contradiction between your words and actions has become impossible to ignore. You tell me I mean everything to you in one breath, and in the next, you treat me as if I'm nothing. You claim I'm a priority while consistently putting me last. You say you value our relationship while actively undermining it. I'm left wondering which version of you is real - the one who makes promises or the one who breaks them. I'm hurting in ways I never thought possible. There's an anger in me that burns alongside the sadness, a profound sense of betrayal that keeps me awake at night. What devastates me most is that you don't seem to notice or care about the pain you're causing. Or worse, perhaps you do notice and simply don't think it matters enough to change your behavior. I still remember how you used to look at me like I was the most precious thing in your world. How you would speak about our future with such certainty and joy. How your actions aligned perfectly with your words, creating a foundation of trust I thought would never break. Now I feel like an afterthought, something you step over or around on your way to what really matters to you. I need to know if what we had is real or if it was just an illusion. I need to understand if there's anything left to salvage or if I should stop pouring my heart into something that no longer exists. Most importantly, I need you to understand that love isn't just a word - it's a choice you make every day through your actions, your attention, and your priorities. Right now, your choices are speaking louder than any words you could say. I'm laying my heart bare because despite everything, I still care enough to fight for us. But I can't and won't fight alone. The question is: are you still in this with me, truly? Or have you already checked out while keeping me hanging on to false hope?

One of my dearest lifelong friends, Julia, is scheduled to tie the knot next week. At 30 years old, Julia is quite reserved and struggles with ADHD, which has made her quite reliant on external opinions from her mom, future mother-in-law, and her sisters for wedding-related decisions. Despite this, she has occasionally sought my advice, and I've been more than willing to share my thoughts when asked.

Life on my end has been tremendously challenging over the past six months. My father had a lengthy hospitalization, my mother is recuperating from a stroke, my husband's mother experienced a heart attack, and my father-in-law’s house was seized by the bank. On top of all that, my job has been extremely demanding, I’m managing life with a toddler, and I recently received a cancer diagnosis. Julia has been kept in the loop about these developments, so none of this would come as a surprise to her.

A couple of months back, Julia asked for my help in planning her honeymoon. I invested a great deal of time, preparing a budget-friendly, tailored itinerary and even researched flight deals for her. However, with barely a word of appreciation, she followed her mom’s recommendation instead and booked a much pricier package through Costco. Additionally, she chose an expensive hair salon for our styling and unilaterally decided that we would bear the costs. For her out-of-town bachelorette party at the family cabin, although the lodging was covered, the expenses for food, travel, and drinks quickly added up. She also informed me I would be staying with her in a hotel the night before the wedding without asking if it was convenient for me, considering my husband’s difficulty in juggling work and childcare.

Moreover, interactions such as requesting her future sister-in-law's contact information for the bridal shower invites, or providing input on her nail choices, have been met with snippiness. Throughout this, she hasn’t once expressed her gratitude.

During the bachelorette party, I confided my frustrations to her sister, a mutual friend, who unintentionally passed the information along to their mother, and eventually, it got back to Julia. I acknowledged it was wrong of me to not discuss it directly with her. When confronted, Julia retorted, highlighting the pressure of wedding planning—most of which is financially covered by her parents. She criticized me for being ungrateful, ignoring the multitude of critical issues I am contending with simultaneously. I replied that while I do appreciate her, she must recognize that my life doesn’t revolve solely around her wedding. Her response was to label me the ungrateful one.

Is it wrong to speak up about these feelings? According to her, it seems so.

Imagine if this scenario unfolded on a reality TV show. The heightened emotions and frank confrontations typical in such settings could dramatically amplify the tension. Viewers might find themselves split; some might empathize deeply with the pressures of friendship against personal hardships, while others might criticize the airing of personal grievances amid what’s expected to be a celebratory time. The drama would certainly be palpable, possibly sparking lively debates among viewers about the boundaries of friendship and personal struggles.

Was I Too Harsh on Bride Regarding Wedding Costs?

Growing up, I always sensed a strange tension in my family, but I never quite understood it until I pieced together old memories and stories told by relatives. My mother, who had always dreamed of having a household bustling with daughters, was disheartened at my birth purely because of my gender. I am a 16-year-old male, the unintentional foil to her fantasies. It was evident from day one; she wept in the hospital when she learned I was a boy, even momentarily resisted holding me. All of this was inadvertently recorded and it's painful to watch. During those first crucial days, it was my paternal grandmother who stepped up to nurture me, featured in most of my early baby pictures cradling me in her arms.

My grandmother essentially raised me until she tragically passed away from a brain bleed when I was eight. After that, I was left in the care of a mother who had finally received her wish—a daughter, my younger sister Lily, born two years after me. The difference in treatment between us was like night and day. Lily became the center of my mother's world: the bigger room, elaborate birthday celebrations, and a mountain of Christmas presents exclusively for her—sometimes as many as 25 gifts sourced from my mom alone, while I would receive a solitary, often lackluster, present.

Interaction between my mom and myself dwindled to the bare minimum and often flared into arguments fueled by years of pent-up frustration and neglect. My father, who played the traditional role of the aloof provider, rarely intervened or even noticed the palpable disparity in affection and attention.

During a recent family gathering at my maternal grandparents' home, Mom couldn't stop lauding Lily for a school project and bragging about the new scooter she bought her, along with a custom helmet and a personalized lock. Unable to hold it in any longer, I let my feelings be heard. I openly criticized her for her blatant favoritism, which only led to a scolding from my grandparents. They described my issues with my mom as "little troubles" stemming from her initial gender disappointment and labeled my outburst as a lack of compassion.

Imagine if my situation was played out on a reality show. Cameras capturing my mother's enthusiastic pampering of Lily contrasted sharply with her mechanical interactions with me. Would the audience empathize with my feelings of exclusion and neglect, or would they criticize me for antagonizing a clearly biased mother? How dramatic and telling those episodes would be, highlighting the raw emotions and complex dynamics of our family life.

Would viewers at home understand the strain of being less favored merely because of gender, or would they side with my mother, assuming I should simply get over it and show more understanding?

(its my first time posting on here, i just needed a place to vent and feel heard)

long story short, when i was around 5-8 (dont remember exactly) i was sa'd by my older brother and his best friend at the time. i was way too young to understand what was happening to me, all i knew is that it felt bad but they wouldnt stop. thankfully this only happened once because i told my mom, but then it was never brought up again, until a couple weeks ago.

the thing is that i never thought of it as SA because it felt too horrible admitting to myself that i am a victim. that being said, this trauma began showing up as me hating femininity, wearing baggy clothes to the point i didnt even undress at the beach/pool/during summer, i absolutely hate the idea of coming across as vulnerable, smoking, substances, SH,etc... in november of 2024 i finally accepted the reality. it felt so horrible that i relapsed in smoking but i thought it was better than relapsing in SH.

long story short, ive made a lot of progress since then. i told my therapist about it and it was the first time i cried in therapy in 5 years, i told my mom about it and she was very loving, but i still cant overcome it.

the nightmares and flashbacks stopped after i managed to talk to my mom about it. but theres one thing left to do, and that is to talk to my brother about it.

the reason why this is like the final boss of overcoming the trauma is that he's made advances on me in the past. not recent, but around 4 years ago he tried to get me to let him 'penetrate' me. apart from that, he's also made comments on my body when i was forced to wear dresses for formal events, talking about how big my boobs are, or how sexy i am. he has also sent me a picture of his dick in the past. thats as recent as last year.

sexual trauma is such a huge part of my subconscious identity that i am almost a legal adult and ive never been in a relationship. i dont wear makeup or dress in a feminine way cause i see it as being vulnerable. ive also never talked to my irl friends about any of this, even tho im craving to have someone listen.

i let my brother get away with so much because our dad passed away a few years ago, and i felt like my brother just wasnt in his right mind. that being said, a lot of what i mentioned happened before my dad's passing and even then, i let him get away with it because dad was an alcoholic.

surviving trauma is hard, but i think surviving the aftermath is even harder.

the first time i admitted to myself that the sa did in fact happen, i threw up.

I don’t really have companions because, truthfully, I never tried much to make them. It seems I’ve lived isolated for the most of my life. I do have a family—my parents are around—but beyond that, I’m on my own. As a kid, I was the shy one, and over the years, that shyness turned into a preference for solitude. It’s as if I constructed my own quiet little world and, oddly enough, I don’t seem to crave the company of friends as much as one might think.

However, there's something I crave far more than friendship – and that's affection. I don't harbor any ill will towards people. I’m certainly not a misanthrope. Yet, there’s a longing in me to experience simple human affection, like holding hands with a girl, or perhaps even sharing a gentle kiss. These are the modest desires I pine for, the chance to build an intimate connection from such tender beginnings.

Despite painting myself as somewhat righteous in these matters, I worry that my lack of a social circle might turn off potential romantic interests. Maybe it won't be an outright rejection, but there could be a hint of suspicion, a wariness that might eventually push her away. The thought lingers that this might lead to me spending my final years alone, without ever having known intimacy.

How would this scenario play out if I were thrown into the dramatic world of a reality show? Cameras recording every moment of my solitude, the audience witnessing my awkward attempts at human connection—could the added pressure provoke sympathy or ridicule? Would they see my loneliness as a peculiar quirk or a relatable struggle?

If the public were to step into my shoes through the lens of reality TV, I wonder if it could change their perception. Maybe they would cheer for my small victories or feel the sting of my setbacks. Either scenario is daunting yet strangely alluring.

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

I’ve always been very insecure and jealous in my relationship, somehow he made me feel that way, even though he never did anything wrong. I have his Instagram logged into my phone and I was always checking what he was doing. Until I decided to check his TikTok video history. I found a series of videos of a beautiful woman. I said the girl’s name to him and asked who she was, he said he didn’t know her, and I kept insisting, saying I knew he’d watched her. He said he thought she was pretty. Now I feel insufficient, stupid, ugly, trashy, and everything bad there is. I don’t have the courage to break up, and I’ve already cried a lot and he comforted me, apologized, and all that. What do you think I should do? But he always knew I felt insecure because I always opened up to him, but I know there wasn’t much to do, because he never gave me a reason to feel insecure or suspicious. It’s very hard to break up because a big part of the time I’m with him, I’m happy.