Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

it seems that most people don’t understand the silent struggles many face, particularly when it comes to mental health. for some, panic attacks occur without the familiar outward signs; instead, they’re discreet episodes that manifest internally. often, these silent panic attacks creep up when least expected, leaving the individual in a whirlwind of confusion and unease. has anyone else ever found themselves in a similar predicament? 😕 the reality for many is one of isolation, as the outside world continues its pace while the individual grapples with an unseen storm.

one may find themselves at a social gathering, surrounded by laughter and conversation, yet feeling inexplicably detached. the heart races, palms sweat, and a feeling of impending doom looms overhead. friends may speak, but their voices are drowned out by the cacophony of racing thoughts and rising anxiety. such instances challenge the individual to maintain an outward appearance of composure while their mind engages in a frantic battle. it begs the question: how does one articulate a silent struggle when the world expects a smile? 🎭

situations arise when the tension becomes so palpable that breath feels scarce. a sudden wave of panic might wash over, leaving one feeling trapped in their own skin. the claustrophobic sensation of being surrounded, yet utterly alone, creates a profound disconnect. the mental fog thickens, causing concentration to falter. it is during these moments of solitude that one ponders the magnitude of perception versus reality. does anyone else experience that moment when everything seems amplified, yet others remain blissfully unaware of your turmoil? 😰

throughout these silent moments, a multitude of coping mechanisms may emerge. whether it’s grounding techniques, deep breathing, or simply stepping outside for a breath of fresh air, the response to such events is deeply individualized. however, the lingering feeling of wanting to express one’s fears can often lead to a sense of frustration. the question persists: is there a way to bridge the gap between personal experiences and external acknowledgment? contextually, how does one convey the urgency of their silent battles without appearing overly dramatic? combating these internal demons requires not only resilience but also a sense of connection with others, even if that connection is predicated on shared, silent understanding. 🌈

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 worked at a startup company in Plano headquarters initials with e.c. e**e c***********s. The bent over backwards for the company as people were fired the culture there became very toxic these m************ I bent over backwards for them bought them breakfast lunch dinner to make a cohesive team but higher ups were just full of s*** but they f***** up how people help each other and actually promoted a culture of toxicity and backstabbing, and encouraged their employees not help each other it was really f***** up. I just want you to know you folks that are still at that company you all are a bunch of m************ makes me sick to ever work side by side with you. I hope you eat s*** die m************

I don’t even know when it started feeling like this, but lately… I swear it’s like she hates me. My girlfriend, the same girl who used to hold my hand everywhere we went, who used to text me she missed me just 10 minutes after saying goodbye, now she barely looks at me. Every conversation turns into some fight, sometimes over the dumbest things. Like if I don’t reply fast enough, she acts like I’m cheating. If I ask for some space, she says I’m pulling away and accuses me of not caring. I try so hard to show her I love her—I bring her stuff she likes, I cancel plans just to be with her, I listen when she vents—but it’s like nothin I do is ever good enough. She’s always mad. Or cold. Or just not there. And I can’t lie, it hurts. It hurts more than I wanna admit, cuz I still love her. But it’s like I’m stuck in this weird loop where I’m trying to fix something that keeps breakin itself no matter what I do.

What’s even more confusing is that sometimes she does act like she still cares. She’ll cuddle up to me outta nowhere, or send a sweet message, or talk about the future like nothin’s wrong. And I hold on to those moments like crazy, thinkin maybe things are gonna get better. But then the next day it’s back to the same distance, the same anger in her voice, the same feeling like she’s annoyed I’m even around. I started questioning myself constantly. Like am I the problem? Am I really that bad of a boyfriend? I replay things I said, things I did, wonderin where I went wrong. And when I bring it up to her, she either shuts down completely or flips it on me. Says I’m too sensitive, that I take everything the wrong way. But it don’t feel like I’m being dramatic. It feels like I’m bein slowly pushed away by someone who used to love me, and I don’t even kno why.

I think the worst part is that I’m still here, still hoping it’ll go back to how it was in the beginning. Back when she smiled when she saw me, when we stayed up all night talking, when I didn’t have to wonder every day if she even liked me anymore. I miss her, even when she’s right in front of me. And yeah, I know it might be toxic, I know it’s probly not healthy to stay in something that feels so one-sided, but walking away feels impossible. Cuz what if it’s just a phase? What if she’s just goin through something? What if she still loves me deep down but doesn’t know how to show it? I keep askin myself these questions to justify stayin. But at the same time… I’m tired. I’m tired of feeling like the enemy in my own relationship. I’m tired of wonderin every day, why does my girlfriend hate me? Maybe she doesn’t. Maybe she’s just hurt, or lost, or angry about somethin else. Or maybe... she really does. And I’m just the fool still tryin to fix a heart that ain’t beatin for me anymore.

It takes a village. You need to work on building your village. I feel I have but many times it’s confirmed my village is not very robust or even existent. It’s heartbreaking. People are nice enough for awhile but then don’t (or “can’t”) show up when you really need it. What am I missing? What am I doing wrong?

for the last couple of years, i’ve found myself stuck in this cycle—i keep asking myself how can i help? i’m spending 2-3 nights a week volunteering, mostly with food distribution and a bit of crisis helpline support, and while i know these things matter in a broader sense, i can’t shake the feeling that it’s just a drop in an ocean that keeps rising. i log off or pack up at the end of my shift, exhausted, but with this nagging voice in my head: did i really make any difference today?? it’s hard to measure impact when the problems seem to grow faster than the solutions we’re offering. sometimes, it feels like i’m patching up a leak with a bandaid while the whole dam’s about to burst; do you ever feel like that? it’s not like i’m looking for praise or thanks, just… wondering if the hours i give, the energy i pour in, really move the needle at all.

at the helpline, we’re trained to listen without judgment, to offer support and guidance without crossing professional boundaries. i think i’m good at that—keeping my voice steady, offering practical resources, knowing when to gently nudge a caller towards seeking professional help or when to just listen. but when i hang up, there’s this wave of doubt that hits me: what if i missed something important? what if i could’ve done more? the same happens during food distribution; i hand over bags of essentials, smile, say a few words of encouragement, but then i wonder if it’s enough to keep someone afloat, even for a few days. there’s this constant tension between the immediate need in front of me and the bigger, systemic issues that make people need those services in the first place. how do you balance that?

sometimes, after a particularly tough shift, i’ll get home, sit down with a cup of tea, and my mind just races. it’s not always the stories i’ve heard—though those stay with me—it’s more this underlying frustration that keeps bubbling up. i’m so aware of how small my role is in the grand scheme of things, and yet, the emotional toll it takes feels disproportionately heavy. am i doing this for them, or for myself? does volunteering ease my own conscience more than it eases their burdens? that’s a question i keep coming back to, and it’s uncomfortable. 😔 i think most people who volunteer ask themselves this at some point, right? it’s human to want to feel useful, to feel like we’re part of the solution. but when the scale of the problem is so massive, is it arrogant to think i’m making a dent at all?

the people i work alongside are some of the most dedicated, compassionate, and resilient folks i’ve ever met. we share a quiet solidarity, a kind of unspoken understanding that what we’re doing matters, even if we don’t always see the results. we joke, we vent, we lift each other up during tough shifts, but we also carry the weight of knowing that there’s always more to be done. i’ve seen colleagues burn out, step away, because the load became too heavy to bear. and honestly, i’ve felt that pull myself—there are nights when i think about just stopping, just reclaiming those hours for rest or personal time. yet, i keep showing up. not because i think i’m some hero, but because, despite everything, there’s this stubborn hope that maybe, just maybe, tonight’s shift will make a difference for someone.

i guess what i’m trying to say is, i don’t have the answers. i don’t know if what i’m doing is enough, or if it ever will be. but i know that doing nothing isn’t an option i can live with. it’s not about fixing everything—that’s impossible. it’s about doing what i can, with what i have, for as long as i can. still, i wonder: is that enough? does any of this resonate with you? do you ever ask yourself how you can help, and if the help you offer really matters in the end? 🥺 maybe the real question is, how do we keep going when it feels like we’re not getting anywhere?

I don't feel good about what I've achieved. At the cost of scandals and failure, I've made friends, my father succumbed to giving me money, to having everyone under my thumb, and it's very unpleasant. I don't like being on top of the world. How can people find that funny? I don't find it funny at all.

They always make up any excuse to accept the fact. I mean, they do everything, they knock down expectations for whatever reason, and as a result, they fall flat. However, if it's someone who respects them, then no. They kick the guy, they do everything to him, they demean him. I was in this guy's shoes. Why? The world seems upside down.

I don't like the way things are. I went crazy with a girl, and now she's accepted me on Instagram. I was rude to a girl, and she reacted unconditionally. These are just some examples. I called my father shit, and now he's opened up. All of them in an effort to do things right, to avoid disappointing me.

Why should I make a fuss to gain respect? I don't think this is in any way a measure of self-respect; I don't like it this way. I feel like everything should have been carried out calmly, but I'm already worried that things aren't going to happen this way. On both sides, it's detrimental to my health, except that if I make a fuss, I get social approval. In other words, what I'm doing to myself becomes more unconscious.

I don't feel right. Frankly, I wasn't taught to put this into words. I was always taught to boast about it. I feel like I'm on a kind of throne from which I want to step down. I don't know how some people can tolerate being at such heights. Why do we fight to be there? It doesn't feel good at all. I feel like I'm a kind of tyrant, and justified, too. I don't know; it's a feeling that I'm being led to my own death.

When they were bad, at least they gave me the chance to escape from what was affecting my health. In this case, when they are good, the chance is smaller; I feel restrained, forced to comply, and to continue harming myself. I feel I was better off in the first case, where I saw how people, under their freedom, appreciated my respect. In this moment, when they are no longer under the same deception, I only see a downright lie, an even more selfish desire to please me. In the previous case, this is not the case.

How ironic the way things are. I, who deep down so much wanted to be one of those who had others at their feet, a whole world supporting me, find that no, that in the end, such a world is nothing more than a lie. And now that I think about it, I think it's crazy to think that there will be many who are good to you and few who aren't. I think this is a bad sign, but the opposite is true, when we act in the name of respect, justice, and also peace, which I believe not everyone knows how to navigate in such a terrain.

In short, if everyone likes us, then they're not seeing us because, in principle, not everyone has the time to see us in detail. It seems like those exceptions are miraculous because if they see us, even if it's in a detached way, in contrast to the others, it just allows them to visualize things. When a few people like us, then they do look at us, but at least they do so in profound detail, while the majority, it seems to me, usually don't see us and therefore act with a certain indifference. However, all of this is within limits; that is, I'm speaking of a good case, a case with details, of a majority that isn't violent and of a few who are so little fanatic; it can't be the other way around either. I feel that when we reach extremes, there's only so much trouble in our lives, regardless of the modus operandi of the majority and the minority.

I don't feel it's right—I'm thinking of some kids who remain distant when I greet them, and when I say goodbye, too, and I don't like that; I feel like I'm adapting to something I don't like. I feel like I'm abandoning that kid who felt others treated me unfairly. However, it seems to me to be the right thing to do because I rightly saw others' treatment as unfair when in fact it was the opposite. What else are people going to do? How many have had the opportunity to appreciate what respect is? I prefer to wander through life and find someone who, in fact, sowed such a question and reaped the same rewards. I think I should give myself the opportunity to find tremendous treasures and also give hope that it can be done to those who have been in my shoes.

I don't know why I feel like I'm thinking in a haphazard way. I can't really organize my thoughts. It just happens that I feel like there can't be a precise rule or something like that. Maybe I'm looking for ways, references, to get to know people. I feel a bit confused. I was never taught to understand how to understand Including people in my life. It was all about working with what I'd already done, with what was already there, but never forging new relationships. My parents didn't have the capacity; they scared them away. In fact, they managed to scare me away. I think my parents succeeded, or the best they could do, was to distance themselves from me, as was the case with my family in general, because I felt they wouldn't appreciate me. I don't know, I don't feel healthy, or entirely sane with these words, but well, speaking at length is a start.

I insist, everything feels confusing. I feel like maybe I'm using those filters my parents taught me to have people by my side. I feel like everything I've said, as funny as it may seem, I don't like it, I don't feel it's appropriate, but maybe it is. I don't know how to go out into the world. The successful things I have as a reference for going out into the world are people who were like a kind of wolves, perfectly selfish people who achieved great success among the masses. I feel like maybe some of that has rubbed off on me, or maybe not. I don't know, but I don't feel like I know who I am, specifically, because I feel like I haven't fulfilled my role, either with my family or with those people, but with myself.

I'm noticing that when I don't fulfill my creative goals, I don't like it; people reject it fiercely. But when I do, I feel like I don't know who I am. I don't find myself in others, and I was taught to find myself through others. By the way, I don't know when to go to a psychiatric emergency room. The thing is, there are no emergency numbers in my country, and I think that's the first thing I want to discuss with my therapist. I can't always be perfect, and I feel like I sometimes fall apart. I don't have their number and no one else to turn to. I also don't know how to manage my current situation with what I have. I know what I have is useful, but I don't know how or what things. I feel like I'm really fading precisely because of this belief that I find myself through others. Also, I don't want to create a personality, an imposed concept, because I feel it's limiting, it doesn't allow me to broaden my horizons, or well, at least not in terms of what could describe a process, a continuity.

I don't know what's happening to me, honestly. I feel like I'm more processing who I am right now, ceasing to see myself in the past.

The focus of this story isn't to portray myself as the victim; I understand some may disagree with me, and that's perfectly okay—this is Reddit, after all. Here's what has been going on. I’m a 23-year-old woman, and recently my friendship with my best friend Sara, who is 24, has deteriorated. We've known each other for nearly a decade and rarely had disagreements, except for one that led us to not speak for a week. We were incredibly close, texting daily and meeting up two or three times a week.

Lately, however, our interactions have changed. We still text, but our responses are delayed, and we last met on March 20th when we bumped into each other at an outing with another friend. Before that evening, I honestly can't recall the last time we met; it might have been late February or early March. Sara has expressed her concern about our drifting relationship on multiple occasions. I acknowledge that I've been less attentive to maintaining our bond due to my busy schedule.

Each time she has brought up her feelings, I've apologized and tried to improve by texting more frequently and making plans to hang out. Despite my efforts, she feels my presence is forced. This cycle of discussion and attempted resolution has been ongoing since the end of last year. She recently suggested we take a break, feeling genuinely unhappy and not wanting to force happiness. She's also mentioned that despite our conversations about the issue, nothing seems to improve. She wishes for us both to find happiness, whether together or apart.

Admittedly, I've been overwhelmed with work. I'm also saving for a trip and picked up a weekend job, which further limits my free time.

If our story was featured on a reality show, I can only imagine the varied reactions from the audience. Viewers might be split, with some empathizing with our fading friendship due to life’s pressures, while others might criticize me for not putting in enough effort or not prioritizing a significant relationship. It would certainly add an element of public opinion and possibly pressure to resolve things more dramatically.

Am I in the wrong here, or is this a mutual fading of friendship?

Hey! It's Caralia. My dad, let's call him Diego. So, my little brother and I have a 3 year age gap. Keep that noted. So as the eldest sister, for 3 years, I had all the attention. My mom was always studying for nursing school, and dad had the shitty job-good pay. Then, my little brother, Dominic was born. All the attention shifted to the newborn. Diego was already stressed with bipolar, work, and a newborn, plus a jealous 3-year-old. My dad would often lash out at me, and leave all parts of my brother out. Time skip to when I'm nine. My dad emotionally made me insecure and belittled constantly, but I searched comfort from friends. My mother was usually at work for 5 hours a week nightshift nursing. I tried to get good grades, I achieved it. But my dad didn't care. Just told me to fuck off. My brother was 6 at the time, and I despised him. When I was 10, I developed a healthy relationship with my brother. Dominic is like my best friend despite all the old jealously that doesn't linger. My dad started a different, more effective medication for bipolar. For the past few years, he's been much better of a dad, but I still have emotional breakage because of him. I have diagnosed major anxiety and minor depression. I also take LexaPro and Hydroxozine. My dad tries to be better, but everytime he tries to have a conversation deeper than, 'What's your favorite color' I immediately like shut down.

It's been two years since I lost my wife, Lily, in a tragic accident caused by a drunk driver. The pain of losing her has fragmented my life into pieces I'm still struggling to put together. My family, however, seems to remain oblivious to the depth of my grief. In fact, they never entirely embraced my marriage to Lily from the start.

In our family, there’s a tradition concerning a cherished necklace that is handed down to women upon marriage. It’s been in our family for many generations, and when Lily and I married, my grandmother entrusted it to me. This gesture was deeply meaningful as it symbolized some level of acceptance of my marriage to Lily. However, since Lily's death, my sister Emma, who always seemed to be the favored one, has set her sights on this necklace. She’s getting married soon and casually mentioned that since I am "no longer married," it should now be her turn to have it.

A recent family dinner escalated these tensions. During discussions about her upcoming wedding, Emma jokingly suggested that I should date one of her fiancé’s friends, adding insensitively that at least Lily wouldn’t be around to ‘haunt’ me. I was stunned into silence. Afterward, I expressed how hurt I was, and Emma dismissed my feelings, accusing me of being overly sensitive and urging me to "lighten up." She even suggested I entertain a fling with one of her bridesmaids who had shown interest in me during my marriage, completely disregarding my ongoing grief.

I stated plainly that I couldn’t attend her wedding if she persisted in diminishing Lily's memory and my grief. This led to a severe argument where Emma labeled me as "dramatic" and accused me of trying to ruin her wedding over a "small joke." My parents sided with her, reiterating that I should attend the wedding to support Emma and that the necklace should go to her as I was not "using it" anymore.

Since that evening, I've received unrelenting calls and messages from my parents, Emma, and her fiancé Luke, all painting me as selfish and stuck in the past. Luke even implied that I should be thankful the family has accepted me at all, given that I am gay—a remark that hints at their barely veiled tolerance rather than acceptance.

Am I really being unreasonable by considering not attending the wedding? I feel torn between standing up for my late wife's dignity and my grief, or just conforming to keep peace within the family. Sometimes I wonder how all this would be perceived if it were part of a reality show. Would spectators at home understand my pain, or would they too be swayed by the drama and the pressure of societal norms that often dictates moving on quickly from grief?

Sorry for any typos – it's tough to keep it together and typing this out after a few drinks to dull the pain of not just Lily’s absence but the rift within my family. Should I relent to keep the peace, or stand firm in honoring my late wife and my feelings? What would others do?

I never thought I would be the kind of person to even ask myself a question like this. When I got engaged to my fiancé three years ago, I was certain. Certain that he was the right choice, that we would build a life together, that the past was just that—the past. But lately, I find myself thinking about my ex more than I want to admit. It’s not that I don’t love my fiancé. I do. He’s kind, he’s supportive, he makes me laugh even when I’m stressed out of my mind. But no matter how hard I try, there’s still this small, stubborn part of my heart that belongs to someone else. And I don't know what that says about me.

Sometimes it hits me out of nowhere. Like when a song we used to listen to together comes on the radio. Or when I pass a certain coffee shop where we spent hours just talking about everything and nothing. And then all the memories come flooding back—the good ones, the ones that make my chest ache in that bittersweet way. I start wondering if he ever thinks about me too, if he ever misses those stupid inside jokes we had or the way we used to plan our future like it was some big adventure. It's confusing, because I don’t want to go back to that relationship. It ended for good reasons. We fought too much, we wanted different things, and in the end we hurt each other more than we helped. Still, part of me misses what we were before it all fell apart.

I’ve tried to tell myself that it’s normal. That maybe everyone who’s been in love before feels this way sometimes. That just because you move on doesn’t mean you erase the love you had. But deep down, it makes me feel guilty. Like I’m betraying my fiancé without even doing anything. He deserves all of me, not a part of me that’s stuck looking backward. And the worst part is, he’s done absolutely nothing wrong. He’s patient with me, he’s honest, he loves me in a way that feels safe and steady. Maybe that’s part of the problem. My relationship with my ex was never steady—it was chaotic and passionate and sometimes toxic. But it made me feel alive in a way that calm love doesn’t always manage. And I hate that part of me still craves that mess sometimes.

There are nights when I lie awake next to my fiancé and wonder if I’m making a mistake. If maybe the reason I cant let go of my ex is because some part of me believes he was “the one” and I just let him go because it got too hard. But then I remember all the pain, all the crying, all the days I felt like I was losing myself just trying to keep him. Loving him wasn’t healthy, even if it was intense. And isn't love supposed to be more than just fire? Isn’t it supposed to be peace too? I know that rationally, but my heart... my heart still hasn’t fully caught up sometimes.

Sometimes I wonder if it's just nostalgia lying to me. Making me remember only the good parts and forget all the nights I cried myself to sleep wondering why I wasn’t enough for him. Nostalgia is a liar like that, painting the past prettier than it really was. I try to remind myself of the facts, the way he would leave me hanging for days, the way he made promises he never kept. But emotions aren't logical, and memories are trickyy. No matter how many times I tell myself I’m better off now, there’s still that ache when I think of what could’ve been, what we almost had.

I haven’t talked to my ex in a long time. Part of me wants to reach out just to see if he’s okay, but I know that’s a bad idea. I know that opening that door would only bring more confusion and hurt. So I keep my distance, for my sake and for my fiancé's. He doesn’t deserve half my heart. He deserves all of it. And maybe loving someone doesn’t always mean you’re supposed to be with them. Maybe sometimes love stays even when the person doesn’t. I guess that’s the lesson I’m still learning.

So yeah, maybe it is normal to still love your ex a little. Maybe it’s just part of being human. Love doesn’t have an off switch. But the important thing is what you do with those feelings. I choose to honor my past without letting it control my future. I choose to stay, to grow, to love the man who’s standing in front of me, not the memory of the one who left. And maybe one day, that stubborn ache will fade into something softer, something that doesn't hurt so much. Until then, I’ll keep moving forward, even when my heart sometimes wants to look back.

Every Halloween, my spouse and I offer bags of chips to trick-or-treaters instead of the usual sweets. We think it adds a fun variety to the children's haul for the evening. We usually stock up from Costco, ensuring we have ample supplies. Anything leftover is used for events like barbecues throughout the year, so nothing goes to waste.

However, my neighbor, Jane, isn’t too happy with our choice of treats due to her child's dietary restrictions linked with a disability. She believes we should provide alternative options tailored to her child's needs. I personally find this a bit unreasonable. It strikes me as impolite to demand specific treats from someone giving away items with no expectation of anything in return, during a festive celebration like Halloween.

When Jane’s child comes trick-or-treating at our door, he is treated just like all other kids. I allow each kid to choose their preferred variety of chips from the assortment I offer. In my opinion, this is already quite accommodating. But Jane insists since other neighbors have adjusted their treats to be inclusive of her child’s needs, I should consider doing the same. I am of the older generation where the belief is children should be thankful for what they receive, especially when it’s given freely on an occasion like Halloween, without expecting customized treats.

Suppose I were involved in a reality TV show, the cameras could possibly paint me as the grumpy next-door neighbor adamant about not changing his ways. Audiences might be divided, with some sympathizing with my stance on traditional values and others criticizing me for not being more inclusive and adaptable to the needs of all children in the community, especially those with disabilities.

How would you react if your neighbor asked you to change your Halloween treats?

I just had my first baby, and when we got discharged, we were sent home with this adorable "baby box" from the hospital. It was pretty surprising, especially since I'm in the US, and I thought this was something unique to Finland. It turns out my county collaborates with a local charity to provide these boxes to all expectant mothers. The box doubles as a crib and included a mattress, some baby outfits, and other newborn essentials.

Excited about this unexpected gift, I shared a picture of the box on Instagram to show my appreciation. Shortly after, my stepmom suggested I take down the post. She mentioned it might upset other new moms who didn't receive such benefits, including her own daughter, my stepsister.

When my stepsister saw the post, she expressed her frustrations that all she received from the hospital when her child was born were some basic supplies and a hefty bill. I decided to keep the post up not to boast, but to spread awareness about the charity’s efforts, and perhaps help other local mothers find out about this beneficial program.

However, my stepsister wasn’t too pleased and directly messaged me, explaining her struggles with raising a child with special needs and feeling overlooked in the family compared to others who appear to have it easier. Despite the tension, I chose to leave the post online, believing it could still aid mothers in my region.

Living far from my stepfamily, I'm only partially aware of the support networks available to parents of special needs children, and I suggested that they might explore similar help or seek counseling. Yet, I ponder if that was an insensitive remark due to my own exhaustion and need for advice.

If this scenario unfolded on a reality show, the drama and tension would likely be heightened, with cameras capturing every emotional outburst and perhaps polarizing viewer opinions. Some might sympathize with my stepsister's plight, while others might applaud the initiative to aid and inform local mothers, sparking debates on the ethics of sharing one's blessings during sensitive times.

Should I keep my "baby box" IG post up?

I have friends in high school but I don't talk to them much because I'm shy, my interests are much different from theirs, and I'm scared to open up to them. Literally every kid in class has met each other outside of school, I'm the only one who hasn't hung out with any of them outside of school cause my home is so far from most of theirs. My friends also know each other more and are much closer with each other than I am with them. I don't even think I've ever had an actual best friend. Plus my school is so freaking tiny so the chances of meeting someone who I truly vibe with is 0%, unless a new kid joins our class with is highly unlikely. I just feel so lonely.

So for almost a year now I have had the hugest crushes on one of my straight (girl) friends. Now obviously, I am unable to control who I have feelings for, but it just won't go away and I'm exhausted. She doesn't know. Also, it's insanely hard living daily life (I see her every day) and trying to act normal. Not to mention love has been in the air or something lately because all of these people around me have been getting together and it's making my feelings so. much. worse. I never knew how intensely lonely I could feel until half of my friends, my sister, and all these other people had newly developing relationships while I am stuck in the trenches. I keep overthinking every interaction we have, looking for signs that aren't there, and never will be there. I have this gut feeling (probably just hope and bias) that maybe if I wait just a little longer, something might happen. I have no idea what to do because I know I'll get rejected and telling her will probably just make things awkward. My feelings have just grown so big and I constantly feel lonely and sad and tired. I'm not sure how much longer I can handle this. But even then, what would I do? (Maybe not reality TV, but some sort of side character plot line in a coming of age movie perhaps. Let me know what you think I guess.)

Thanks for reading?

- A little lesbian :)