Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

I couldn't finish 3 of my exams. I couldn't the last 2 questions of biology, I couldn't finish 1 section in Hindi, and I couldn't finish half the paper in maths. I will fail even all the subjects. Maybe I didn't study enough for all of them. I'm a failure to everyone. I'm a failure in life. I don't have friends, I studied but I didn't have practice, I'm apparently rude to everyone and everything, I can't even draw like my beloved artists, I can't do art in the future because you'll replace me, and I won't pass school next year. It may be the second term and I have one more, but it's not enough. I'm not enough. I've never been. The list should've helped me because I would've been a great human, not the defective fetus my parents were given. That's all I am. Failure. Always will be, unless I figure out a way to just stop. Stop harming others with this mess, because my existence of failing alone is bad.

Nobody wants a failure, nobody wants to fail. Because look where failure got others. People failed to check the reactor core of Chernobyl, many people of Ukraine and other countries died. Someone scored very low in school, he was held back a year and continues like that, even though he's happy now. Someone failed a driving test, so they never drive again because they probably ran over someone. Someone failed an exam, and their parents beat the hell out of them or they get horrible treatment. Someone out there failed to get his family any food in a poor village and they die. See? Failure hurts and it destroys. I hate it when books tell kids in school failure should help you learn. It helped me learn to not fail and resent it. My parents may have been fine, but I don't care. I'm a failure, and I should leave the house because I said so. Dad's right when he says lots of Indian families hate failure, I should too. He's not right when he says it's not good.

Look where it fucking got me. I feel like I failed in everything. How am I gonna make it in this world? I won't. If I fail in one more thing, I'm a useless child. I hate it when they say you can learn and do better from failure. I hate it when dad says not to fear failure. Look where failure got others in the real world! Death! Destruction! Famine! Held back a year! Abuse! More death! This will happen to me. It will. Didn't failure hurt them?

That's why I'm a problem. I may have been born by loving parents, but right now I feel like they secretly hate me, even though they seem fine. I burnt everything I touched, maybe this fail is it. I failed at maintaining 1 friend, at succeeding exams, at being nice and humorous, at being smart, at looking good and being in the trend, many things. I'm pathetic. I'm the worst thing ever to happen. Why even though I studied I couldn't finish the paper? I'm too slow like a snail, that is! I hate it when my mom said not to think on her behalf. Making predictions is what we do. So even if she scored 5th topper IN SCHOOL, why is she telling me she also failed? It's a lie! Farce! She's lying that she failed. She's not showing love, it's a story she cooked out of her ass. If I hate myself, I'll get better. I'm a worthless, useless, piece of shit, vagina candle smelling, stupid, pig-like, hairy, baboon-ish creature who deserves to not live for all her fucking failures.

I swear, sometimes I think my parents just want me to be miserable. Like, no matter what I do, it’s never good enough. If I get a B on a test, they like "why not an A?" If I actually get an A, they say "Well, was probably an easy test, right?" Like, can you just say good job for once??? And then they wonder why I don’t wanna talk to them. It’s like they only care about me when I do something wrong. And the rules?? Omg, don’t even get me started. I have to ask for everything. Can I go to my friend’s house? No. Can I stay out past 9 PM? No. Can I have my phone in my room at night? Of course not. Meanwhile, my little brother does whatever he wants. He stays up till like 2AM playing video games, leaves his stuff everywhere, and guess what?? No one cares!! But if I forget to put one stupid plate in the sink, suddenly it’s "you need to start taking more responsiblity in this house." Bro, I literally do everything. I help with chores, I do my homework, I try to be nice, but somehow I’m still the problem. It’s like they just wanna control me 24/7, and then they act shocked when I don’t wanna be around them. Like, gee, I wonder why.

And the worst part is, they act like my feelings don’t even matter. Like, if I say I’m stressed, they hit me with the "you don’t even know what real stress is." If I say I’m tired, it’s "you’re young, you have no reason to be tired." Ok then, sorry for existing I guess??? Just because I don’t have a job doesn’t mean school isn’t insanely exhausting. And don’t even get me started on the whole privacy thing. They act like I’m some criminal or something, always wanting to check my phone, asking a million questions about who I’m talking to, like why do you care so much? It’s not like I’m out here selling drugs or whatever. I just wanna have my own space without being treated like a little kid. But nope, apparently having basic privacy means I’m hiding something. I’m just so tired of feeling like no matter what I do, I’m still a disappointment to them. And then when I actually try to talk to them about it, they just get mad or say I’m being dramatic. Maybe I am dramatic, idk, but it’s not like they actually listen to me. They act like they know me but they don’t. I hate how they make me feel like I’m never enough. I hate how they don’t even try to understand me. I hate how I can’t even hate them properly, cause no matter how mad I get, I still love them. But sometimes, I really just wish they would see me for who I actually am instead of who they want me to be.

My MIL is an unhappy person who always complains about everybody and everything. It is loke she is trained to dislike and see the worst in everybody. She gives nonstop advice. She gives shallow compliments. But she has health problems too and she just wants to be needed. I love her and am exhausted by her at the same time. I want to tell her that she is alienating everyone with her unhappiness. I wish I could help her see the good in people. It is a losing battle. I am so tired of her denigrating her son and her husband to me- they are good, honest, hard working, and loyal men. They are not the most affectionate or chivalrous but they are reliable and caring. And...after 15 years for me and 55 years for her...it is unlikely that we will be leaving these men anytime soon. Why can't she be happy with what she has? Why does she feel the need to bring me down with her constant complaining?

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

I stayed silent about this for a long time. A very long time. But, apparently, the time has finally come to tell the truth. Not polished, not “neat,” but real.

These two years of my relationship were not just a difficult period for me. They were two years that broke me morally, emotionally, and psychologically. And I know that many people do not even realize just how deeply.

It all started beautifully. Truly beautifully. It was happiness, joy, teenage passion, the feeling that I was needed, loved, chosen. I believed in him. I believed in us. I believed that if a person looked at you a certain way, said certain words, promised certain things, then it was not for nothing. Back then I really did love, and I gave myself sincerely.

Then I got pregnant. And from that moment, a completely different reality began.

It was not just shock. It was fear, guilt, panic, an inner rupture.

The choice of whether to keep or get rid of the child. And at the same time, his pleading to keep the baby. His words that he would stay by my side. That he would do everything for us. That he would not leave. That he would handle it. That I would not be alone. That he would be a man, a father, a support.

I believed him.

And then reality began to completely destroy me. His broken promises, betrayals, lies, screenshots of messages, unfamiliar girls in our home, while I was in labor, when I was in my most vulnerable state and was texting him about how scared and how much pain I was in. Every new betrayal tore me to pieces, every lie was another blow to my psyche.

Financial dependence was finishing me off in its own way. When you are morally exhausted, with a child who needs constant attention, and you realize that your stability depends on a person who keeps hurting you, it is a trap. You live in constant fear and tension. The fear of his outbursts of aggression, of broken things, haunted me all the time.

Taking care of the child also became a heavy burden. Because of stress, I lost my milk at six months. I felt guilt, confusion, and despair, because I wanted to give my child everything, and I could not. That only added even more inner tension and a sense of helplessness.

My inner world was collapsing. Questions kept spinning in my head: “Why am I alive?” “Maybe it would be better if I were gone?” And these were not just sad thoughts. It was the scream of a psyche that could no longer endure it.

Self-harm became a way to survive. At first it was pulling out my hair, then a failed suicide attempt, then cutting. It was despair, a scream inside myself, an attempt to let out pain that could not find a way out. And it was a real, honest feeling that shows just how deeply broken I was.

And the worst part was that in those moments there was no one who could fully accept me. I wrote to ChatGPT. It was the only way to speak out, to pour out all the brokenness, fear, betrayal, despair, nervous breakdowns, financial dependence, fear of explosions and aggression. I wrote to it when I did not know where to put all this pain, when I wanted to simply stop the whole world and feel nothing.

Every day was a battle. Every minute was a test. I was fighting him, the fear, myself, my own emotions. I was losing peace, health, inner safety. I looked at the world through stress and a constant sense of danger.

Many times I waited, many times I forgave, many times I hoped he would change. But reality was merciless. And it was not because I was “not enough.” It was because not everything can be endured, even if you give a person everything.

Now the situation feels like it is on the verge of ending. I do not know exactly what stage the relationship is in, but I feel that the end is near. And that brings both fear and relief at the same time.

These two years taught me an unbelievable amount: about myself, about pain, about boundaries, about my own strength. I understood that even among fear, betrayals, financial dependence, stress, and self-harm, it is possible to preserve yourself. And I am holding on, because I know: I will be able to live on, even after everything that happened.

P.S.

“Teenage passion” — because it started when I was 15.

I got pregnant at 16.

I gave birth just before turning 17.

I will be 18 soon.

And the scariest thing in this story is that all of this was lived through not by a grown woman.

But by me — a child.

TW: sexual assault

Hi um so I'm posting here because I really don't have anywhere else to talk but I've been having a lot of trouble recently. I've been remembering a lot of the bad things that happened to me when I was a kid and it's a lot and idk what to do because I can't stop remembering it. From the ages of 9-11 my best friend who was the same age and gender as me kind of like molested me? I don't know if it counts because we're both girls and the same age but she would do a lot of things to me. I don't wanna get into a lot of details but it happened at least once a week and it did involve penetration with her fingers. I remember it happening a lot and she'd "experiment" on me, and one time our parents walked in. They were really mad and her parents stopped talking to us for a week but she convinced them it wasn't that bad and we were just "playing doctor" but she never stopped after that and I'd tell her I didn't like it but she would tell me I'm pathetic and if I didn't do this I wouldn't be her best friend, so I did. It went on until she moved to a different state and I honestly forgot about it until like a few months ago and I've been recalling everything she'd done to me and idk what to do because I feel disgusting and I can't stop thinking about it and I know it wasn't a super big deal bcs yk we were both kids but I still can't get it out of my head and it's like scaring me and idk what to do and idk if it even counts because we were both kids and we were both girls but I think I've been spiraling downhill recently and I realize how a lot of the stuff I do like being awkward in convos or having trouble with physical touch is partially due to this and I just hate myself for it because I can't get over it and I can't even hug my own friends without getting weirded out and I'm sorry for ranting I'm just really in a bad place rn with this and I can't stop thinking about it eve though it happened years ago

i kinda have to use politics for this story, pls dont read if you're just gonna argue down below!!

i have an older brother, theres a 5 year difference between the two of us. our dad passed away almost three years ago but thats not when i first noticed my brother's opinions.

for context, we both live in our mom's house. mom has always been the bread winner and provider in our family, since my dad was an alcoholic and rarely contributed. the only thing i feel is important to mention is that mom can be aloof and cold. shes very 'stoic' in that sense.

back during covid, when andrew tate blew up, i noticed my bro watching him a lot, which concerned me. i spoke to my mom about it and she clearly didnt care.

since then, he's collected the 'basic' far right beliefs like pokemon. i assume you know what i mean, stuff like 'women are emotional, men are logical', 'women cook and clean and men provide', 'men are dominant and women are submissive'. which is ironic but whatever.

he has a history of being weird to (girl) friends i bring over, he claims to have several women and calls himself a pimp, etc.

recently, presidential elections took place where we live (not US elections), and he was very open about voting for the far right candidate. mom scolded him. whenever she scolds him, he acts like a puppy but quietly keeps his mindset if that makes sense.

im certain he's depressed. he doesnt shower, (and when he does, he only uses water because soap is for women and it would raise his 'estrogen' and make him 'a little bitch' im so deadass) he only leaves his room to go the gym, he doesnt sleep, he drinks hella energy drinks.

recently, he's been reposting concerning stuff on tiktok and instagram; things that point to body dysmorphia, testosterone, steroid use, that type of stuff, on top of the usual degrading misogynistic stuff.

my mom knows all this, she just doesnt seem to really care (?). i mean, he is a grown man. its also no secret that he was neglected growing up. (we both were, but i imagine he had it worse being the older sibling) the thing is that ive been very forward about seeking help. i pestered my mom about therapy, psychiatrist, antidepressants, all that. i also got my brother to see a therapist a couple of times and the therapist recommended he goes to the psychiatrist and seeks a more serious treatment, at which point everyone in our family collectively agreed that he doesnt need anything like that. nobody even asked him what he thinks.

i'm convinced if nobody does anything, he'll die from either suicide or heart problems (from energy drinks and possibly steroids, tho im not positive on that one)

im very worried about him, and really frustrated that nobody else seems to notice. ive spoken to him before, there were instances where he talked a little bit about how he was treated growing up and my instinct was to call it cringe and leave, but i shut my bitchass up and listened. there were also instances where i asked questions and only got an 'idunno' in return. and of course there's the instances where he claims i wouldnt understand anything because im a girl.

the way he thinks is very black and white, very binary, is what i noticed.

please let me know if anything is unclear, and feel free to ask questions since theres stuff im probably forgetting rn.

i'll take advice from anyone but im particularly interested to hear any young men speak on this if possible

thanks for reading!

I reside in Delaware and have a well-compensated position, supporting both myself and my boyfriend, who is currently unemployed. Not long ago, I had the privilege of attending a lavish Spanish-Italian wedding as the bride's witness. The event spanned two days, three hours away from the city, featuring a wedding ceremony, a celebratory lunch, a festive party, and a follow-up barbecue for a relative’s birthday. The marrying couple had instructed us not to bring gifts due to an upcoming second celebration in Italy, hosted at a mansion, anticipated to include over 80 guests. My role as the bride’s witness involved extensive responsibilities, from renting a car for over €250 to managing guest transportation and logistics.

Upon arriving at the barbecue, I discovered there was insufficient food for the attendees, prompting us to shop for groceries. During this errand, our hosts requested additional items, including fresh bread specifically fetched by my boyfriend. However, when he tried to obtain some bread at the barbecue, he was surprisingly denied the bread he himself purchased. The aftermath saw me cooking for over an hour, only to realize the purchases we made were being shared among all guests. It felt as though we inadvertently footed the bill for the barbecue we were invited to. The next day, the newlyweds requested that I look after their plants for a month while they traveled, to which I agreed and even prepared a celebratory bottle of champagne for their return.

In light of the funds expended on food that benefited more than just us, I sought to partially recuperate the expenses through Splitwise, attributing two-fifths of the costs to the bride. Rather than appreciation, I faced severe reproach for not contributing a gift, not assisting in cleaning up, and allegedly not supporting enough financially. The irony peaked when I was reproached for expecting monetary compensation, with insinuations that I should reassess my financial priorities, despite adhering to their initial request of no gifts and my extensive logistical support.

The situations left me feeling undervalued and emotionally distressed, questioning the sincerity of my friendship and the recognition of my contributions to their special days. It’s bewildering to extend oneself so thoroughly only to be met with criticism and misunderstanding.

If this scenario unfolded on a reality TV show, it's imaginable that the audience might be split. Some might sympathize with my efforts and feel outraged at the hosts' expectations and lack of gratitude. Others might argue that as the wedding witness, such responsibilities and expenditures should be anticipated, perhaps critiquing my decision to seek reimbursement or my reaction to the circumstances.

If I was in a reality show, what would the viewer's reaction be?

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?

So about 3 weeks ago me and my friend and I decided to go to a pool hall well I was already in my pajama pants and a jacket (what I usually wear at night time) the pajama pants are like a extremly plush fuzzy material and the jacket was a super soft fleece I just simply enjoy being comfortable when im at home lol reason im going into detail about what I was wearing is because when we got too the pool hall everything was cool for a couple hours until my friend started talking smack to some guy well the guy pushes my friend and when he did I jumped between them and when I did my pool stick fell out of my hands and was laying on the ground. Well when I stepped between them I just so happened to be standing over the pool stick and 2 guys picked the pool stick up at the same time and racked yanked up hitting me dead in the middle of my balls I remember feeling the stick literally splitting my balls in half I remember looking down and seeing the fuzzy pants and the outline of my balls around the stick and the guy that was behind me rubbed my shoulder and said "you got a nice soft jacket on oh and your pants look soft too" and when he said that he reached down and twisted my dick while the pool stick was still between my legs i remember moaning extremly loud and grunting while he twisted and squeezed also at the same time yanking the pool stick up higher into my balls he finally let go and I dropped too my knees instantly I was extremly sore for about 3 days and my girl friend is extremly sexual and is still asking why I didnt wanna have sex for that week and she loves my pants and jacket i really dont know how too explain this to her

i’m not sure if there’s an age limit on here so i’ll just say it from the get go: i’m a freshman in an american high school. that’s significant. i know this might sound childish to you guys.

since the start of middle school, i’ve played in band as a clarinetist. me and my friend who ill call E bonded quickly since i had prior knowledge of the instrument and he learned very quickly. there were 17 clarinetists at first, the. the next year there were 10, then 6, and now just the two of us are left. it doesn’t matter, since we’re in a larger band. there are like 9 clarinetists and we are all good friends.

i’m a gay guy, i figured that out mid seventh grade. i liked this one boy, we’ll call A, throughout 8th. i was low key obsessed. i had started to grow out my hair, and i didn’t put much effort into fashion, so looking back on it, it shouldn’t have been a surprise when i was rejected by A. over the summer and throughout the fall i’ve felt the agony, i mean i’d been rejected before but never so directly. I got a haircut and had a glow up imo after that.

a few months ago i could kind of feel that thing, like a nagging feeling telling me there’s someone i like. i don’t know how to explain it, but it always seems to happen a few months after you’ve started to lose feelings for someone. all of a sudden i feel some attachment and attraction to several people. it always happens, no big deal. eventually my brain latches onto one of them and the others fade. and that’s usually okay.

but this time, i can kind of feel my brain starting to latch onto E. i can’t stop thinking about him. he’s probably my best male friend, and he knows i’m gay, but we don’t talk about it a lot. he’s never outright told me he’s straight but he has told me about his various crushes on girls. he’s never acted on them, but maybe noticing that is part of my brain hoping for the best. the other clarinetists and us are a very tight knit group, and we talk and laugh a lot during class. i think one of them, a sophomore girl ill call C, has noticed something. E used to always wear his hoodie with the hood on. slowly, he started pulling the hood down. now he comes in with a puffer jacket (we’re in the pnw) and says “i only wear it so i can take it off.”

i’ll be honest. E is a much better clarinet player than me, and so is C. but E doubles on trumpet. he’s just so good. i’m sort of jealous. also he’s skinny, (i’ve imagined him before), and has recently had a glow-up. i’m just scared he’ll start getting an influx of girls and i’ll be left alone. C almost definitely notices my prolonged stares, like randomly during class i’ll just find myself looking at E, and maybe even making eye contact.

OKAY so here’s the point. i don’t want to tell anyone for these reasons:

-he’s straight(?)

-if i did it would make my feelings real

-were freshman, we’ll have to be awkward for the rest of high school. i adore our easy conversations

-i’m afraid he’ll think i’m weird

-not to mention i don’t even fully know if i like him, there are several other candidates

i’m on here so i can get this out with anonymity.

i ask myself this all the time, like literally every single day—why do i feel like i’m not good enough? no matter what i do, what i try, it never feels like it’s enough. like i’m enough. i look around at other people and it’s like they all got it figured out. they’re confident, they’re smart, they’re good looking, they know what they wanna do with their life and people like them. and then there’s me. stuck in this loop of overthinking everything, second guessing every word i say, every move i make. i try hard, like really hard. i stay up late studyin, i help people when they ask, i try to be kind, but still i feel like i’m just... less. like no matter how hard i try to be something, someone, i just keep falling short. nd yeah, ppl tell me to stop comparing, to just “be myself” but what if bein myself is the problem? what if no one actually likes the real me? sometimes it feels like people just tolerate me, like they wouldn’t even notice if i stopped showing up. i laugh with them, i hang out, but inside i feel so small, so invisible. like i’m on the outside lookin in all the time.

it messes with your head, u know? like u start wondering if ur even worth loving or caring about. i’ve had people leave without explainin, had friends slowly drift away like i wasn’t enough to keep around. nd i know it’s not all my fault, but when it happens over and over, u start thinkin maybe it is. maybe i talk too much, maybe i’m boring, maybe i’m annoying or just hard to be around. nd it makes me scared to open up, to trust people, cuz i keep thinkin they’ll see the real me and decide it’s not worth stayin. i wish i could feel proud of myself, like genuinely believe i’m doing okay. but even when something good happens, i just feel like i don’t deserve it. like it was luck, or a mistake, or someone else would’ve done it better. nd yeah, i smile in front of people, i act chill, but deep down it’s like there’s this constant voice tellin me i’m not enough. not pretty enough, not smart enough, not funny enough, not important. nd i wish i knew how to shut it off. i wish i could wake up one day and actually feel like i belong in this world, like i’m not just taking up space. but right now? i don’t. and it sucks. it really, really sucks.

Lately, I've been feeling this gnawing sensation that my friends might actually dislike me, and it's a feeling I can't seem to shake off, even though it's probably unwarranted and all in my head, but hey, who's there to say for sure??

Sometimes, when we're all hanging out, I get the vibe that I'm the odd one out, you know?? Like, they'll be laughing at some inside joke I don't get, making me wonder if I'm just the extra, unnecessary part of the group that they tolerate out of pity or habit, and not genuinely out of fondness or camaraderie; do you ever feel this way too?? Do others perceive me merely as a tag-along or an afterthought, or is it just the typical paranoia feeding off my insecurities?? I mean, there's been times when plans were made without my knowing, and while I try not to make a big deal of it, because who wants to be that person who's always fishing for inclusion, right?? It still stings a little bit, and I can't help but wonder if perhaps they intentionally left me out because, deep down, they don't really want me around, like when they all went for brunch but somehow "forgot" to text me, which felt like a punch to my gut realizing the event happened from all their Instagram stories the next day; or am I just overthinking everything, which I tend to do on most days anyway, not even gonna lie!! Then, there's the conversations that start and end with them, as if the exchange does not require my contribution; is that a sign of their disregard or just a lapse in their social interaction capabilities?? Yet, simultaneously, I can't ignore the times they've shown they care, and perhaps it's just my mind playing tricks on me, blowing insignificant occurrences out of proportion, turning a molehill into a mountain of self-doubt and suspicion!!! Sometimes I wonder if I'm just projecting my own feelings of inadequacy or fear of abandonment onto them, which seems plausible, but it doesn't make the emotions any less valid or substantial to me!! Are my thoughts, in this endless loop of self-questioning and uncertainty, shared by others who have gone through this exact dilemma, always second-guessing their place in a friendship, or am I a rare case of unjustified anxiety surrounding social dynamics?? I find myself questioning the genuine nature of our friendships while judging myself for even letting these thoughts exist since everyone seems fine and like there's nothing out of the ordinary; how does one reconcile the two?? There's this never-ending battle within, imagining the worst while trying to stay rational and tell myself it's not personal, but you know how it is, very tiring how the mind sometimes wants to wander off on dark roads without a care; do I confront them about these fears, risking further detachment, or bottle it up, hoping it's just a phase that will pass eventually, like clouds on an otherwise sunny day???

Even in moments of lightheartedness, there's this undercurrent of unease, a nagging thought that maybe, just maybe, I'm not as valued in their lives as they might be in mine; are these connections truly reciprocal, or am I investing my emotional capacity into illusions of friendship?!? All I crave is some reassurance that I'm not the solitary one battling these feelings, that I'm not the only one tangled in this web of doubt and suspicion; I even asked myself once if maybe I'm the toxic one who assumes the worst intentions behind their actions, simply because I've developed this narrative in my head that needs questioning and debunking sooner rather than later, don't you think?!!! It's a constant push and pull, where emotions and rationality duke it out in my mind, leaving me emotionally drained and yearning for answers that might never come unless I dig deep and analyze the origins of these feelings without bias; but truthfully, who has the time or energy for that deep introspection regularly, though I probably should make time, I'm aware!!? It's just frustrating, you feel me??!! Wondering if it's all a figment of an overactive imagination or a hint of a larger underlying issue that needs addressing; is it possible for friendships to thrive despite these shadows of doubt, or is there any wisdom in voicing these concerns to them, opening a potential can of worms that could lead to clarity or calamity??? What is the best approach here, do you reckon?!? It's interesting realizing that perhaps nobody really knows the absolute answers to these dilemmas, and each one of us is just winging it, hoping that we eventually get it right; and maybe, just maybe, that's okay in itself!!! What are your thoughts on this whole unsettling experience; have you ever been in a similar boat, sailing through murky waters littered with uncertainty, and is there a guiding star that leads one out of this cycle of doubt???

Uh hi, hoping this will send? I'm Robbie (dw it's a nickname) and go by he/him.

I just realised I don’t trust my therapist anymore, if I ever did.

My parents sent me to therapy for my self destructive coping mechanisms June last year, and even then we never even adressed my coping mechanisms. She (my therapist) once asked awkwardly if I was still doing those, and I wasn’t at the time, so I said so, and now I never mention relapses.

I’m afraid to tell her I’m depressed again since I only got out years of depression this April (cause I got myself outta an ensmeshed traumatising friendship) so it’s bad for me to be depressed again, to still have bad thoughts,

I’m afraid my therapist will judge me, more than she does already when for example i mention I’m a positive nihilist,

and I mean therapy was useful until April cause I always vented about that “friendship” and that helped but it doesn’t help anymore when my therapist brings up H. (the past friend) these days, feels like im being retraumatised when I hear their name.

Guess I should be thankful I even got a trans accepting therapist in the first place, I mean it was my therapist who convinced my parents to accept me as trans after all these years of them not accepting it. Ugh idk.

These days each session my therapist asks me how I feel, I say “fine if a bit stressed” she asks how I’m feeling about H., I move on swiftly and move onto the subject of what school drama I’ve been involved in recently makes me angry, give that I’m finally able to feel anger as a emotion for the first time in my life nowadays.

And look, I lie a lot, and my therapist doesn’t realise, I’m sure she realises some of it, but not all, not when it matters, and yes i suppose i should stop lying but I fear her judgement so much.

So yeah, these days I feel like I'm back 3 years, meaning that I'm navigating my mental issues all on my own, and luckily I'm doing so in much healthier ways than i did three years back, But still, it's lonely, and it feels unfair to me that i have a therapist, one that Ive had a year and a half and yet I dont feel able to address actual issues with her anymore. I feel i havent been able to address any actual issues with her ever since I cut ties with H. I mean, Maybe i was never really talking about myself, I was always talking about H. back then, H. was my life, and I suppose I never learnt to actually talk about my issues after H.

And now every session therapy feels like a waste of time, as I'm lying half the time, and otherwise talking about mundane stuff that i just bitch to my friends about anyways. And my therapists office is so far, it takes about 3 hours from my day each time i have a session even when the sessions are only 1 hour. And I've got such paranoia and fear about wasting time because of some of that trauma involving having been enmeshed with H.

Hey so idk if this is just a hormonal feeling but lately it's getting hard for me to talk to my own friends about how I feel. I heard so many times on social media that people's friends are so sick of their friends venting to them. And I'm kinda scared and tbh last time I vented it felt like it got so brushed aside so easily. I feel like I'm being annoying. At school i use to just do stupid things with my friends but after I found out my crush said I was annoying and someone (who's pretty) said I don't stand a chance with them repeatly. Even my dad always said means things to me like being stupid or useless. I got kind of use to his mockery. When he found out I liked them he just said I wasn't good enough for them. I feel like social media is too blame as well but now I feel like I lost confidence in myself and my interest. especially at social events one of my friend's is very social so they usually sit with alot of people and idk how to include myself without feeling suffocated or childish. My problems feel so irrelevant and stupid to others.

But I still want to know how to get rid of this feeling because I feel like I'm pushing my friends away and I really don't want to end up alone.

If I am being completely honest, the thought of attending therapy gives me a good dose of apprehension. My parents have decided that my problems at school and within our family dynamics warrant a professional third party, and I find myself wondering what that will be like... Can therapy truly provide the answers or guidance I need to navigate the tangled web of teenagerhood? What questions should I bring up to make the most of it? How open should I be? I mean, am I supposed to just spill my guts right there on the first day?

It seems strange to talk to a stranger about the ups and downs of everyday life, especially when emotions are sometimes hard to express even to myself. I hear therapy is supposed to help, but what if it does not? Could it actually complicate things further? Would asking specifically about developing better relationships with my family or friends make the difference? My familial relationships are particularly challenging lately. Will a therapist guide me on how to deal with the lingering resentment, or the often overwhelming expectations placed upon me? How do you even ask for advice on communicating effectively with parents who seem stuck in their old ways? And what about friends? Often, I feel isolated or misunderstood. Is it normal for a therapist to assist with improving social skills or understanding the intricacies of friendships? Could learning new coping strategies and communication techniques actually improve these interactions? Does formulating these specific questions lead to meaningful guidance from the therapist? Moreover, is it okay to question the therapist’s methods if they do not resonate with me? Is there a right or wrong way to approach therapy, or is it supposed to be a fluid conversation? It is the fear of the unknown, I suppose, mixed with an intrinsic skepticism that breeds these questions. What if I do not click with the therapist? Is it acceptable to ask for a different approach or a different therapist altogether? How does one even know if therapy is working? Craving validation seems natural, yet is it feasible to anticipate tangible progress? How can I ensure that I am not wasting this opportunity? I have heard that articulating one’s feelings and personal challenges while seeking suggestions can be beneficial. But how does one do that without feeling contrived or superficial? Would opening up about my fears and aspirations, however mundane they might appear, lead to transformative advice or realizations? Does anything truly significant emerge from these sessions that an honest conversation with a friend cannot provide? Can therapy offer a blueprint to life that I am currently missing? Somehow, I feel as though there is an assumption that teenagers inherently know how to adapt to life's changes. Yet, how realistic is this expectation?

At 17, grappling with the pressures of school, social life, and family, it often feels as though I am walking a tightrope. Do therapists possess insight into the teenage mind that parents lack? If so, how soon does one expect to notice improvements in understanding and management of these various pressures? Can I anticipate a newfound self-awareness or perhaps an enhancement in my emotional intelligence guiding me through tricky scenarios? Could asking about practical steps to handle stress and conflict inadvertently lead to improvement in my overall well-being? These questions linger in my mind as I consider the prospect of attending therapy sessions. How forthcoming is one expected to be when seeking answers or support? Am I alone in my apprehension, or do others my age share similar sentiments embarking on the therapeutic journey? It is this reflection that underscores my wonderment, with an unavoidable inclination to question the efficacy and the process, or rather, the possibility that it might just be what I need.