Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

I recently went to a family gathering, and let me tell you, it was a weird experience. I was surrounded by relatives, laughter, and chatter, but somehow I felt like I was in a bubble. It was like everyone decided to give me the cold shoulder. I was trying to be friendly and approachable, but it was like I had an invisible force field around me that kept people at bay.

I mean, what gives? I thought family was supposed to mean something. I kept wondering if I’d missed some social memo that everyone else got. Did I misread the vibe? Was there something about me that screamed “stay away”? The whole thing was exhausting. Every conversation felt like I was splashing around in shallow water while everyone else was swimming in the deep end.

I started replaying past interactions in my head, dissecting every little thing. Was there some kind of misstep I didn't catch? It’s frustrating when you realize that perception can overshadow intent. Maybe they see me as abrasive when I’m just trying to be myself.

Instead of letting it drag me down, I figured I’d try to flip the script. Maybe these awkward moments are just lessons in disguise. I’m still hopeful that I can figure out how to connect better and break through that weird barrier. I guess I’ll keep pushing forward and see what happens. I just wish it didn’t feel so damn lonely sometimes.

Hey guys, I’m 21M and something has been bothering me. It’s stressing me out to the point where I feel like I’m losing myself, even though I seem okay to people. I’m stressing about my future and life. I’m still dependent on my family, and I’ll be graduating next year (2018). That thought is making me depressed.

I wouldn’t say I’m bad at academics, but I never give it my all, and even though I manage okay, or some I know I could do better. I always tell myself that one day, at some moment or event, I’ll start giving my best(not only for academics but for my life) but while waiting for that moment, I feel like I’ve been drowning. Zoning out has become normal for me I can’t even fall asleep or walk without zoning out. If I start thinking about my life, I just get stressed.

What’s made this even worse is that I used to be religious I’d go to church, read the Bible... but now I don’t do any of that.

Am just clueless right now and had no reason that I pursue.I’m just here to ask you, what’s something that kept you working hard? What was the moment or reason that made you want to change or to want more in life?

I’m 29, married, and honestly, I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me sometimes. My husband is, by all observable metrics, a good man. He hasn’t given me any concrete reason to question his fidelity since we’ve been together. He texts back promptly, he doesn’t hide his phone, and he makes time for me even when he’s dead tired from work. But despite all of that, I have this insidious, gnawing insecurity that crawls up my spine whenever I see him laughing at something on his phone or when he takes a few minutes too long to reply. Maybe I’m just paranoid—or maybe I’m responding to unresolved trauma masquerading as intuition. I wish I could say I’ve always been this suspicious, but the truth is, I used to be chill as hell in past relationships. It’s like something cracked open in me the day I found out he cheated on his ex-wife.

Now before anyone jumps on the "once a cheater, always a cheater" bandwagon, let me just say: people can change. We’ve all heard the quote, "Every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future." That said, how do you trust someone who’s proven capable of deception? Especially when you weren’t the one who got lied to, but you know someone else was. My husband admitted it pretty early in our relationship. He said, "I was a different man back then," like that version of him lived in another body entirely. He didn’t justify it, which I appreciated—he just owned it. And for some dumb reason, maybe arrogance, maybe naïveté, I believed I could be the exception. I thought I was different enough, good enough, smart enough to be the woman he wouldn’t betray. But now, two years into this marriage, that knowledge lingers like an app running in the background, draining my emotional battery even when everything seems fine on the surface.

I catch myself analyzing his tone, his body language, even the most mundane changes in routine. If he skips his morning kiss or seems distracted during dinner, my mind starts constructing hypothetical infidelity timelines with CIA-level detail. It’s exhausting. It’s like being your own private investigator in a case that hasn’t even been opened yet. What’s worse is that I know how unfair it is. He doesn’t deserve to be interrogated every time he has a bad day. I read somewhere that "projection is when you dislike something about yourself and attribute it to someone else"—and maybe that’s what I’m doing. Maybe I’m projecting my fear of not being enough onto him. Maybe I’m scared he’ll do to me what he did to her because deep down, I think I’m just as disposable. Isn’t that pathetic? To measure your self-worth based on someone else’s sins?

And still, I don’t want to be this woman. I don’t want to play emotional detective or police someone I claim to love. I want to trust him, truly trust him, not just say it and hope my voice doesn’t crack. I’ve been seeing a therapist who specializes in relationship anxiety and attachment theory, and she said something that hit me hard: "You’re not reacting to him—you’re reacting to the narrative you’ve built around what he might do." That stopped me cold. Because she’s right. I’m so damn focused on worst-case scenarios that I’m sabotaging the best-case reality. He’s here. He’s loyal—at least from everything I’ve seen. He still reaches for my hand in bed, still brags about me to his friends, still asks for my opinion before making big decisions. How much more evidence do I need before I stop treating him like a ticking time bomb?

So I guess I’m asking: why am I so insecure in my relationship? Is it self-esteem? Is it trauma? Is it just me being a dramatic, controlling idiot? I’m trying to get better. I read books. I journal. I’m taking SSRIs. I’m not passive about this, because if there’s one thing I don’t want, it’s to become the reason this marriage crashes. He’s not perfect—none of us are—but he’s trying, and so am I. There’s this quote from Esther Perel that I remind myself of often: "Trust is built in drops and lost in buckets." I know I need to give him those drops, not with blind faith, but with informed hope. I need to believe that growth is real, and that past behavior, while informative, is not always predictive. I’m learning to accept that the only control I really have in this relationship is over my own reactions and assumptions; and maybe that’s enough to start turning this fear into peace—even if it’s one difficult, imperfect day at a time.

Thanks for reading 😘

I've been in a constant state of fight or flight, honestly I've been in crisis, since the election. I'm disabled, trans and intersex, other flavors of 'undesirable' in the eyes of the government. I was close to taking my life and writing hotlines pretty much everyday sobbing my eyes out. My psychiatrist said if I refused to be hospitalized (I did) then we were down to Spravato and Electroconvulsive Therapy... Yes, she basically said the only solution was nasal spray ketamine or electroshock. I wish I was joking. I'm allergic to so much that these three things were my only option left. Are my only option, but I'm just done. No. I refuse it all.

There's a decent chance ALL healthcare might be taken away from me soon anyhow.

I decided to give Spravato a try, I was really, really hoping it would work. It didn't. My blood pressure shot up so high I almost had to go to the ER, I couldn't stop panicking and crying, I almost threw up multiple times. I am familiar with dissociation, it's a horrendous feeling I get sadly often, but I can tell the... Cycle of it? I suppose? As in, even when dissociating or having derealization, I can tell when it's at it's worst and when it's staring to wane. With Spravato, not so, it was two hours of being at the worst part of all my dissociative episodes and panic attacks at once with no reprieve. Closing my eyes made it worse, I couldn't even try to sleep to get through it, I had so many nurses coming in and out. A random man who was there also getting Spravato himself came in and tried to talk me and my mother through it and reassure us that sometimes that that even still happened to him. I can remember the talking, but it's more like I'm looking back on a movie I watched, not something I witnessed. All that felt like it was me in that moment was the fear. Nausea. My heart wanting to break through my ribcage, the pain of each heartbeat, rattling in my brain of memories and thoughts both that I couldn't differentiate among other things. It was just too much.

Finally, finally after two hours it started to let up, they took my blood pressure and since it wasn't at a concerning level (it was not normal still but not medically concerning? I think?) I was allowed to come home. I almost threw up multiple times on the ride home.

I was essentially sedated for three or four days after, too tired to tell what I was feeling but knowing I wasn't happy or okay, just too tired to cry or panic anymore. My heart kept beating funny off and on, though, I kept getting chest pain off and on. It's still happening off and on and it's been a few weeks. I'm scared it permanently damaged my heart, I already have so much going on, I can't do it.

All therapeutic effects it had are gone, all the fear and grief and dread and pain are back in full force, my family is trying to convince me to try it again and I refuse. My mother told me, essentially, she liked me better sedated. My pain, my fear for my life under this regime in America with so much being taken away from me (after being attacked just getting groceries two weeks after the election by the way), is an inconvenience so I need to just "be normal."

I can't help but wonder if there's hidden meaning behind "be normal." I could get into the why, I could get into my whole life story leading up to this of medical malpractice, but I won't. It's too much. There's so much I need and want to say but what's even the point?

I suppose I'll end this with something that happened a few days ago that's still hurting me, that was my reason to coming to this site again. I still don't really know how it works, if you can see my other post, but it's pertinent to this if you can. I tried one more time, one more time to reach out to someone to help me, give me help feasible for me with all of my limitations. Admittedly, getting a bit angry, because all the "advice" given even when I explained my situation was things I couldn't do. I tried explaining again, and it was turned back on me. I'm apparently a fascist for saying poor, disabled, non-white and intersex people are being left out of people's consideration when giving queer (especially trans) Americans help or instructions to help themselves. I was apparently posting "fascist bait" and somehow I'm also a Nazi? I don't even know. All I said was that I needed help, I just needed some steps given to me to take to try and get myself safe, to a better place. Then, got frustrated, and said their advice wasn't even advice for me or many others in my situation. It felt like dismissal and a "welp not my problem- figure it out!" and I said so. I said that people need to stop leaving the most vulnerable of the lgbtqia2p community in the dust and this girl got four other people to gang up on me.

I give up. I deleted all social media, I feel hopeless but won't write Trevor or 988, no one wants to help me. No one who can will, because I'm "not valuable" enough. Not to another country, not even to a blue state, nothing at all. I need too much help, have too many targets on my back, and have the nerve to point out that people are pulling the ladder up behind them once they get theirs and seeing certain parts of the community in the dust. Even some trans people are, mainly those of us that are poor and or disabled, intersex and or non-white. Of which I am all of.

And now I sit here alone, sad, thinking about everything and wishing I could close my eyes and wake up anybody else tomorrow. Wake up and find out this was all just a bad dream.

No, I'm not going to do anything to myself, I'm just so tired. If you can see people's past posts on here, again, what I said before sort of gives more context but even with both these two posts it's not everything going on with me.

Goodnight, I guess.

My sister-in-law recently kicked off a weekend burger business. Though she has a stable Monday to Friday job, financial needs grew when she found out she was expecting a child from a previous relationship, and the father isn't around to support. To cover the extra expenses, she now sells burgers every Saturday.

Every week, my wife insists on buying burgers for our family of five. My concern is the price tag that comes along with them—$9 each, which sums up to $45 each time. They are delicious, but the recipe is the same one my mother-in-law created and taught to my wife. I can’t help but think it's wasteful to spend that much every week when we could easily make them at home for far less.

Just to be clear, the expense isn't the problem. We're doing fine financially, but I believe there are more economical ways to handle our budget. When I brought this up with my wife, she explained that her purchases were more about supporting her sister than just buying burgers. I countered by noting that it's not solely our responsibility to support her sister’s venture, especially since the burger stand is quite successful and consistently sells out.

Recently, I raised the issue again, suggesting we should stop buying the burgers. My wife asked why it mattered if it was her own money being spent (since we maintain separate personal accounts alongside a joint one). I repeated my point about sensibility and unnecessary spending. Apparently frustrated, she decided to buy burgers only for herself and the kids, excluding me, to save the $9 on my burger.

She followed through, and while I opted for a more affordable Big Mac, the atmosphere at home has since felt tense. She seems upset, but I’m struggling to understand why. Am I being unreasonable here?

Imagine if this scenario unfolded on a reality TV show; viewers would likely be divided. Some might applaud the practical approach to family budgeting, while others might criticize the lack of support shown to a family member in need, championing the wife’s efforts to help her sister despite the higher cost.

I can’t do this anymore. I don’t know why I’m like this. I just got out of another conversation with my parents and the moment they said “you go to church and you lie” I just got emotional and ran away. And marched into my room screaming. Unfortunately I have a problem with telling people the truth to my parents but I don’t do it out malicious I don’t because I’m scared.

I’m scared of being an adult

I’m scared of getting a license

And I’m scared of living alone

But why

Why can’t anyone understand me?

I feel like a monster because that’s all I am

A big giant no driving lying monster.

Sometimes I wonder what happened if I just never existed. Would Everything be different would everyone be happy.

Because I’m the problem cans I can’t even fucking save myself.

i’ve spent my whole life chasing the dream of being a pro footballer, y’know? every day, training on my own, with the lads, at the gym, trying to push myself harder than yesterday. i’d wake up early, sleep late, never stopped thinking about the game. but now, i’m 23, and it’s finally hitting me that maybe, just maybe, i’m not good enough. no club’s ever taken me seriously, and i can’t even get a spot to earn a basic salary from this. it hurts, honestly, because i gave it everything i had. my parents, bless them, they’ve been my biggest cheerleaders, always saying “don’t give up,” but i can see it in their eyes too – they’re worried about what comes next. i should’ve studied more, kept my options open, but all i could think of was football. now it feels like i’m standing at the edge of a cliff, wondering what to do next. do i keep pushing for something that’s not happening, or do i finally admit i need a plan b?

the thing is, i don’t even know what i’d do if it’s not football. i’ve put all my eggs in this basket for so long, i can’t imagine doing anything else. i didn’t focus on school, didn’t get a trade, nothing. football was my life, my identity. now i feel like a fool, and it’s scary. but i guess life’s not over yet. there’s still time to figure something out, even if it means starting from scratch. i’ve been thinking about coaching, maybe working with kids, trying to pass on what i know. or i could look at fitness training or something else sporty – something that keeps me close to the game. it’s not the big dream i had, but it’s a start, right? i’m not gonna sit around and mope forever, i just need to get my head straight and make a new plan; maybe this was never meant to be my path in the first place. have you ever felt like your dream was slipping away from you and you had to start again?

sometimes i feel embarrassed talking about this, like i’m letting everyone down – my family, my mates, even myself. but deep down, i know they just want me to be happy. it’s not about how much money you make or the career you have, it’s about waking up and feeling good about what you’re doing. i don’t want to waste more years chasing something that’s breaking me down. i’m still young, i’ve got time to figure it out, and i’m not afraid to work hard – i just need to be smart about it. maybe i’ll find something that gives me the same buzz as football. maybe it’ll take a while. but i’m not giving up on life, not on my dreams either, just shifting them a bit. at the end of the day, it’s about finding your own version of success, whatever that looks like. so why am i not good enough? maybe i am – just not for the path i thought i wanted.

so I recently met someone who identifies as polysexual. I had no idea what that meant before, and honestly, it got me super curious. like, I thought I understood sexual orientations pretty well, but this one feels way different. it’s not really like bisexuality or pansexuality, but it still involves attraction to multiple genders, just not all of them. it’s kind of confusing, and I guess that’s what caught my attention.

I mean, I really want to understand this stuff better, especially since it feels like there's so much to unpack. polysexual people can be attracted to various genders, but they don’t have to be into every single one. that kind of challenges the way we usually think about attraction, right? it makes things more complicated, but in an interesting way. when I was talking to my new friend, they said that being polysexual actually helps them form deeper connections because they focus more on who people are, not just their gender.

it got me thinking about how orientation affects relationships and how we interact with each other. it’s not just about who you’re attracted to; it’s also about making sure everyone feels included, no matter who they love. my friend said that being polysexual gives them the freedom to pick partners based on shared interests, rather than sticking to some narrow idea of what’s acceptable.

I can't help but feel a bit hopeful that society will come around to accepting these kinds of identities more. it would be nice if everyone could just be themselves without worrying about being judged or misunderstood. I mean, having these conversations about complex identities like polysexuality could really lead to some better understanding and compassion. it makes me wonder where we could go from here if we approached these topics with respect and empathy. the possibilities seem pretty cool...

I wake up every day and look in the mirror, hoping for some sort of miracle to happen overnight. I still see the same tired eyes staring back at me. At 48, I thought I would be in a much better place in my career. Instead, I find myself stuck in a role that feels beneath my capabilities. I’ve always been a driven person, but lately, I feel like I'm just going through the motions. Sometimes I wonder if I’m even meant to be in this industry anymore. There was a time when I felt passionate about my work, but that fire has dimmed and it's scary to think that I might not be able to rekindle it.

My colleagues are mostly supportive, yet I often catch them rolling their eyes at my ideas in meetings. It stings. I pour my heart into every proposal, only to have them brushed aside without much thought. I find myself hesitating more and more to speak up, fearing that my voice doesn't carry the weight it used to. I question whether I’m bringing value to the team or if I’m just a relic of the past, clinging on to a role that doesn’t need me anymore. And that thought – the one where I picture myself as an unnecessary part of the equation – eats away at me. Should I swallow my pride and look for something new, or am I just being dramatic? How do you even know when it’s time to leave versus when it’s time to fight for your place?

Then there’s the ever-watchful comparison to my peers. Some of them were in the same position as me just a few years back, but now they’ve shot up the ladder like rockets. Promotions, raises, moving to other companies that seem to value their hard work while I’m still here, stuck in the same spot. I sometimes hear whispers about how I'm "overqualified" for my job, which feels like a backhanded compliment. On one hand, it’s nice to know people recognize my potential; on the other hand, what does that say about my current situation? Why am I not progressing? I wonder all the time if my age is catching up with me. Are younger, more energetic employees overshadowing me? Shouldn’t my experience count for something? But instead of naming my strengths, I focus more on my weaknesses, and that seems to cloud my judgment more than ever.

I had a performance review recently that only compounded my feelings of inadequacy. My manager acknowledged some of the projects I handled but stated I need to show more “initiative.” The word rings in my ears like a haunting reminder that I’m not doing enough. Instead of using it as motivation, I turned it against myself and have been replaying that moment in my head in an endless loop. “Why can’t I be more proactive?” I ask myself. “Why can’t I seem to innovate?” I left that meeting feeling like a shadow of the ambitious woman I once was. Have I become complacent? Or have the challenges of my personal life drained my energy to push forward at work? I’m constantly torn between wanting to be a high achiever and wrestling against feelings of being overwhelmed. How do you work through that? It's hard not to spiral into self-doubt when it feels like you're not reaching your full potential. I want to change the narrative, but where do I even start?

Every Saturday morning, I make it a ritual to visit a bustling local coffee shop to study. The ambient noise strangely helps me concentrate, so I arrive at 8 a.m. right when they open to secure a spot. The setup includes two-person tables, a few larger ones, and countertop seating. I generally prefer a two-person table against the wall for a bit of privacy and so that passersby can't sneak a peek at my laptop screen.

Just yesterday, at around 9 a.m., while engrossed in my work, a woman, let's call her Carol, decided to sit at my table without asking. This irked me somewhat as my personal space felt invaded, but I chose to ignore it assuming she was temporarily there waiting for her order. However, it soon became apparent that she had other plans. She had been conversing with another woman in line, whom we'll call Janet. Janet mentioned that they might need to get their food to go since no tables were free. Carol casually gestured towards me, indicating they planned to take over my table. This assumption of theirs added to my irritation since it felt like I was merely an obstacle in their plans.

As expected, Janet approached me after placing their order and asked if I could shift to the counter so Carol could sit at my table, citing her recent back surgery which made counters uncomfortable for her. I refused, explaining I also found the counters uncomfortable and didn't have sufficient space for all my study materials. Janet labeled me rude and inconsiderate and even questioned why I was there since I apparently wasn't eating. I clarified that I had indeed purchased breakfast and a drink. Their persistence continued until a coffee shop employee intervened. I confirmed that they were bothering me, resulting in Carol and Janet being asked to leave.

When I later shared this incident at home, expecting some support from my roommate, I received a lukewarm response. She acknowledged that Carol and Janet were rude, but also hinted that maybe I could've been more accommodating given the crowded nature of the cafe. My sister even compared it to not offering a seat to someone with disabilities on public transport, which I disagreed with vehemently as café seating doesn't equate to essential transportation needs. Both seemed to imply that Carol's and Janet's need to be seated was imperative, leaving me conflicted.

Reflecting on this, I wonder how this scenario would play out if it were part of a reality TV show. Often, these shows thrive on conflict and pushing social boundaries, so likely, viewers might find the drama enthralling. Would the audience side with me for standing my ground, or would they view me as the villain for not accommodating someone with a medical condition despite the discomfort it would cause me?

For those used to reality TV dynamics, it could be an interesting discussion on personal space versus social responsibility.

Would I be the villain in a reality TV show situation?

i've been struggling to find motivation to workout lately, and it's really bugging me. i used to be so consistent with my gym routine, hitting the weights, doing cardio, you name it. but now, it's like pulling teeth just to get myself out the door. maybe it's the weather; it’s been dreary and cold recently and all I want to do is curl up in a blanket with some hot cocoa. i'm not sure if that's just an excuse though because other people still manage to hit the gym regardless of the weather.

but then again, what's really stopping me? i've got no serious injuries or health issues that should prevent me from staying active. sometimes i wonder if i'm just being lazy. but it feels more than just laziness... like there's this mental block that keeps me from making it a priority. reflecting on how much better I feel when I'm on top of my fitness game makes it even more frustrating. maybe it's about finding new ways or activities to keep myself engaged, something fresh to break the monotony – or perhaps I'm just overthinking things again.

Over the past couple of years, I've been assisting my sister, Emily, with caring for her two young children. This arrangement started during the pandemic when both she and her husband found themselves overwhelmed with managing remote work and looking after their kids. At that time, it felt natural to offer my help without expecting anything in return, considering the circumstances and the family bond we shared.

However, life has since returned to normal, and we're both back to our regular routines with demanding jobs and personal commitments. Despite this change, Emily continues to expect that I would babysit at least once a week, often more. What troubles me is her lack of acknowledgment; there's never any offer of payment, and not even a simple word of appreciation. It seems like she's taken my willingness for granted, assuming I'd always be available.

Last week, I reached my limit and expressed to Emily that I could no longer provide free babysitting services. I explained that if she needed my help, it should be reciprocated either through payment or with gratitude. Her response was far from understanding—she accused me of being selfish and insisted that family should always be ready to help each other without expecting anything back.

I believe in family support, but it feels like I'm being exploited. All I'm asking for is some recognition for my time and effort, or maybe even a break now and then from this commitment. Emily's reaction has been to stop speaking to me, and our parents are pressuring me to apologize just to smooth things over.

Honestly, this whole situation has left me wondering if setting these boundaries makes me unreasonable. It makes me think about how this could play out if it were part of a reality TV show, where family dynamics are on full display. Would viewers sympathize with my need for appreciation, or would they side with Emily, viewing my requests as unnecessary family drama?

I'm curious, what do you think?

I need a point of view from a guy, me and my ex were off and on for over a year, we saw other people in between because we broke up, from my view I was there and he never was, I texted him a lot, he told me to get snapchat cause it would be easier, which made no sense lol, I did, I didn't tell him, things were already feeling off again. Very off. We did things together teenage couples do..he ghosted me the first time but then he said it was because he was busy, and I believed that, he has a farm and has to keep his animals alive and a family business or something like that. He said he loved me and that he was sorry and I took him back because I believed it was the right thing to do and I know people make mistake, so I took him back, I was already attached. I told him I was clingy and he knew. He is country and there is a thing about country guys and their grandpas dying, he died, and before he died things were great. when I was sick he would ask if I needed anything, like food, and said he would bring it over, I wouldn't let him do that, we had "I love you" wars. But when his grandpa died he started drinking and not doing great things and started to distance himself from me even more, I felt hurt and I wanted to talk to him about it, I rarely saw him, so I did it over text, of course, it was hours of being on delivered. I told him it didn't feel like he loved me anymore and that I just wanted time with him, he said he was too busy, nothing about not loving me anymore, which I thought I was fishy. I would give random I love yous because if I were him that is what I would do but I am not him and I don't know what I did it, most of the time he would leave it onread or on delivered and at night I would tell him goodnight and just like that, "goodnight." no "Hey baby I am sorry I have been busy all day, I am sorry if you felt like I didn't want you." He never said that I would like his goodnight message and say "So no I love you back? Is something up?" He would say something like, "Didn't see it." "Love u too." It was like he wasn't even trying. I was giving up my parents trust, they said he was bad news, I didn't listen because I was madly in love with him. We fought more than we saw each other, all the time over text. There was one time he said he couldn't do us anymore because he wanted a girl he could actually go out with ( Originally my parents said no because they didn't like him, they warmed up to him and finally told me it was fine) There were so many time I told him this so I brought it up again when we were fighting over text and he said " Oh I didn't know" Maybe it was because every time we hung out he just wanted to get to know my body more and more, he had already seen every part, we had done everything already. S I brought up him only seeming to care about my body and he would always dismiss it and say " I think if this is how it is we should break up or take a break." He never wanted to talk things out. And yet, he said he didn't want my body, but what did he do in person? Me. I let it drag on because I loved thins boy and he made me feel loved and special. What goes on in guys heads? Thinking that everything is fine when it isn't? Dismissing that you only want a body, no feelings attached? He said we werent f around buddies, but to me, it felt that way. We continued to do it over and over, each other and this toxic relationship. We would hang around in his truck and I could tell something was off, one time there was a hair tie that wasn't mine in his truck, I did see him with his mom the night before and they went out in his truck, but my observant self saw that his mom's hair was down, it wasn't pulled back, I was still outside when they came home, her hair was up, but she never got into his truck again. We had been sharing locations with each other and then he turned it off the next day and I knew something was up, I questioned it when I was in that truck with him and all we came to, was nothing, he said "No" when I asked him and started kissing me. I tried to shake it, I knew something wasn't right, he probably doesn't even remember it. I miss him, who he was before his grandpa died, he was my everything and then he became such a ( Insert your word here). It continued to be touch and go, I could tell he knew something was up with me but never even asked. He always expected me t be the one to ask to go out and when I did he said he didn't have time because he was busy or because he didn't want to and then I told him then he better not ever say I didn't try, which he did. I need a aview from a guy on this, we would have such a fun and loving time, then he would ghost after something major, like the deed, happened in our life. He texted me and said I should keep it in the past and that it doesn't matter anymore and that he was happy. I miss him. He got me into trouble at school so know I am suspended and could even get expelled at this point. Did I do something wrong? Why do guys do this? There is so much more I could ask and say but I have been ranting too much and I just need help.

4, I have had a total of 4 friends who have either cut, or cut currently. I dont know why but for some reason i feel as if it is my fault. I feel like if i had just stepped up i could have helped them. At one point i attempted to cut myself, but someone walked in, luckly, they didn't see me. I am the youngest of 4 in my family, and feel as though i have to do something different, as most of my siblings have done/are doing great things. I feel the wieght of all their success on my shoulders, and i can still hear every hurtful thing they have ever said repeating in my head, but it isnt just theirs, but every single hurtful thing i have ever heard. I constantly tell myself that i am not good enough and i have had others say the same to my face and, quite literally, behind my back. I have gone through years of bullying and i cry myself to sleep most nights. I also don't think my trauma is important enough so i dont share to my friends or family. My dad, siblings, and ex made me insecure about talking to much, and a girl named Harlow Curry made me insecure about being fat and ugly. I tell myself they were simply telling the truth, and that it isnt their fault. Everything that has ever happened to me, someone else has a worse story and makes mine sound fine, they say that mental abuse doesn't count as abuse, but i attempted suicide once and people still dont care. I have started to agree with them and now every second of every day there is a voice saying that i am not good enough and that my trauma doesn't matter, and finally, that everything bad is always my fault, yes, even things out of my control. But it also say that everything good i have done doesn't matter.

renovating a house is often seen as an exciting prospect, filled with potential for transformation and improvement. yet, it can also unravel into a complex web of unforeseen challenges that negatively impact one's life. we embarked on our renovation journey with the aspiration of creating a dream home, but it rapidly turned into a nightmare that dismantled not only our relationship but also left us financially devastated. the unexpected costs spiraled out of control and soon became unmanageable. to make matters worse, disagreements about design choices and budget priorities created further stress between my partner and me.

as the renovation progressed, our financial resources were stretched to their limits, leaving us vulnerable and insecure. despite trying various damage-control measures, nothing seemed to stem the tide of overruns that plagued us from completion delays to unexpected structural issues that needed urgent attention. living amidst constant construction took a toll on our mental health too, making it hard to see past the immediate chaos towards future benefits envisaged at the outset of this venture. now here we are almost homeless under considerable financial strain having moved back in with my parents which i never imagined would happen 😞 while trying desperately not dwell excessively on past decisions or blame each other… finding solace in knowing we're doing everything possible rectify those missteps moving forward.