Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

My mom is really so upsetting at times. Just a little while ago I realized she had been manipulating me

As in, I have my struggles with my gender identity, wounding myself and she also hates that I consume anime, games etc and whenever I feel sad she blames it on all those things. She made me throw so many sketchbooks because she said they weren’t healthy, but they were mine and she took those away and i can’t see myself forgiving her. She blamed me for my biological mother having and auto immune disease, she basically said i was at fault because I harmed myself and she’s onto me these days which is making me consider doing something mean to myself. Whenever I “mess up” (as in, talk to someone she forbid me, watched something she forbid me, or played a game she forbid me) she always starts like: “I’ve been sick these days, knowing you were doing this and this and that again. Don’t you know it’s harmful?! I forbid it!!!” and then she goes on and on placing the blame on me. She starts hard on me just to get my walls down and then she goes inserting her little thoughts in me. Manipulator! And alright! I finally got my phone back after, guess how many years? 3 years! And I had the strictest internet curfew because she can’t stand not being able to know literally everything i’m doing! And now, i’m sure in a few days she’ll come to me and say: “i’ve been getting odd vibes about your phone, let me look through it” I literally can see it, so predictable. And the worst is: if she gets it again, I’ll be grounded, which is pretty pathetic for a 17 years old but hey, that’s my life, that’s how I live! Because whenever she makes me sob blaming me, she leaves me alone, crying and wounded all by myself and yet she still insists she really cares, while in fact she’s just projecting onto me! It will never get better unless I leave here. I love her so much, she’s literally the best in every other thing but emotionally being there. Sorry if it’s too long…

Should I resign for my mental health or should I stay to provide my family?

It's actually so stupid how low I've actually stooped to. Just very recently all of the school stress and fear of criticism from friends (plus their hurtful jokes) has made me reach a new low. I was really trying not to ever do this, but I did. I just one day decided to find that one box cutter in my pencil case and try it out on my arm. The reason I even did it was to actually take away attention from another wound I had in the moment. Though somehow I would've thought I'd feel bad, but i didn't. Instead I just felt weird and dazed. The plan was to just do it that once, yet it somehow turned into more. I let the ones on my arm heal, since they weren't even that deep, and I moved on to one of my thighs. At first it was just only a small spot, and somehow with little time in just a week, it grew to both of my upper thighs, even a try on the inside of my ankles. Though the wounds may not be deep, there's many new with each day, that sting in a way that feels unfamiliar yet familiar. It's hard to stop doing it now. Even more with upcoming important stuff like exams, events and applying for schools, which all stress me out so much. I mean I'm 15, and I feel like such a loser for doing this as a way to get some sort of relief. It feels like I don't even qualify to do this, since I have a pretty normal life, except for a father, who is absent most times for work. It feels as if I'm mocking others who do it, even if I might not be, especially with one of my friends having done this sort of stuff for so long with family problems and all. It doesn't help that I feel more guilty when thinking of this friend actually having struggles and like almost a reason to do it, though that feels rude and offensive to say.

I feel so stupid for this to the point I had to get this out to somewhere. Even worse is that the trunks I was planning on using on top of my swimsuit for summer, are in fact, too short to cover the evidence up well. I dread the day I have to get exposed to this friend or anyone close to me. I should now probably go and prepare more for my math exam then.

I fucked up, and there is no polite or delicate way to phrase that, so I shall simply admit it outright: I cheated on my boyfriend, the man who has been nothing but loyal, generous, and patient with me for the past two years, the man who has shown me a stability I honestly never believed I deserved. I am twenty-five, he is thirty-two, and somehow we made it work, despite our differences in age, character, and temperament. Our life together is not some pathetic fantasy, it is real, concrete: we share mornings, dinners, moments of silence, the dull routines that, ironically, are the foundations of happiness. And yet, in one miserable night, soaked with alcohol, foolish laughter, and the kind of reckless bravado that makes people believe they are untouchable, I allowed myself to betray him. I was drunk, yes, but that excuse is thin, pathetic, barely a fig leaf for my own conscious decision to let another man touch me, kiss me, fuck me. I woke up the next day with the stench of someone else’s body clinging to mine, with a splitting headache and a gut full of disgust. Have you ever stared at yourself in the mirror and seen not your face but only the lies you will soon have to tell? That was me. My first thought was not even about what I had done, but about how I could possibly pretend it had never happened, and isn’t that the most revolting detail of all? That my instinct was to hide, to bury the truth, to spit on his trust while smiling at him over morning coffee.

Now I am stuck in this vile space between confession and concealment, and neither path seems bearable. To confess would be to throw a grenade into our shared life, to obliterate all the good moments, to shatter his sense of safety, to perhaps lose the one person who has ever truly made me feel like I was worth more than the sum of my reckless impulses. But to hide it? To swallow this filth and act as though nothing occurred? That would mean rotting from within, keeping a secret that gnaws at every embrace, every kiss, every “I love you.” And which is worse? To kill something with blunt force or to poison it slowly? I keep replaying the night, trying to find some crack in the memory where I might have stopped myself, where I might have said no, but instead I only see my drunk, stupid grin and the rush of feeling desired by someone new, someone meaningless. Do you know that absurd thrill, that tiny, stupid surge of ego when a stranger wants you? That was all it took for me to throw away my dignity. And for what? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I gained no satisfaction, no joy, no sense of fulfillment—only guilt that drips like acid through every second I spend with him now. He looks at me with those calm, patient eyes, and I want to scream, to confess, to throw myself at his feet, yet I choke on cowardice. It is ridiculous, but even in my own shame, I feel a twisted sort of hope, as if perhaps this mistake might shock me awake, force me to grow up, to stop treating life like some chaotic experiment. Maybe the very act of ruining something reminds you how precious it actually is.

So what do I do, really? Do I unload this shitstorm into his lap, admit everything, beg for forgiveness, knowing full well he might walk out and never look back? Or do I take this filthy secret to my grave, let it burn me in private, and in return keep the life we built intact? I am not some saint, clearly, but neither do I believe I am a monster, and maybe that’s why I cling to the thought that redemption might still be possible. I cannot decide if honesty here is noble or selfish, because confessing could easily be seen as nothing more than trying to ease my own conscience while dumping the pain onto him. Hiding it could be argued as protecting him from useless suffering, yet is it not arrogant to assume I have the right to make that choice for him? Fuck, it is a twisted dilemma, one that I suspect many would simplify with “just tell him” or “just shut up,” but reality is never that neat. Life is messy, human beings are messy, and love—even the strongest, most mature love—has cracks that appear when you least expect them. Despite everything, I still believe in us, still believe that we can survive my stupidity, though I am uncertain of the method. Maybe this betrayal is not the end but the grotesque wake-up call I needed to finally stop taking him, and myself, for granted. Perhaps the future is not destroyed but simply altered, and maybe, just maybe, there is a chance to rebuild something stronger on the ruins of my failure. Or am I just lying to myself to soften the blow? Would you, in my place, confess and risk it all, or would you stay silent and fight like hell to make every future moment worth the guilt? 🤷‍♂️

Tomorrow is my 23rd birthday and I can’t believe in. In my head I’m still 17 years old. It’s like my life stopped when covid happened. How can I start living again? How can I catch up to everyone else? How can I be happy again?

Is anyone else scared of what's waiting after high school??? I’m 17, and it feels like every day the pressure gets heavier. My teachers treat me like I’m invisible or like I’m already a lost cause. When I try to ask for help, they either don’t care or act like I’m stupid. One teacher literally said, “You need to start acting like an adult,” when I forgot a homework deadline—and I just stood there thinking: how? No one’s showing me how. Other students don’t make it easier. I don’t fit in, I never have. Group projects? Hell. Presentations? Worse. It’s like I’m watching everyone else pass me by while I’m stuck behind this wall I don’t know how to climb. My grades reflect it all. I try, I honestly do, but the more I fail, the less I believe trying makes a difference. “You need better time management,” they say, but how do you manage time when your brain won’t even let you breathe properly during a test? It’s like school has become this constant performance where I'm always getting the worst reviews.

And after school? What then??? I’m supposed to figure out what I want to do with my life when I can’t even survive one normal week without breaking down? I see people applying to universities, making LinkedIn profiles, talking about internships like they’re already halfway to some successful career... Meanwhile, I’m Googling “what jobs can you get with bad grades.” I’ve looked into vocational programs, but even those say things like “applicants must demonstrate motivation and focus.” What if I don’t have that yet? What if all I have is fear??? People keep throwing around words like “gap year” and “self-discovery,” but that just sounds like stalling to me. Isn’t adulthood supposed to come with stability? Direction? I feel like I’m walking toward a cliff, not a future. My mom says, “You’ll figure it out,” but what if I don’t?? What if I’m one of those people who just never figures it out? It’s hard to stay hopeful when all I see are closed doors and people who seem to have keys I don’t.

Maybe this is just part of growing up. Maybe everyone feels this way at some point; but why does no one say it out loud then? I read somewhere, “Growing up is losing some illusions, in order to acquire others,” and I think about that a lot. Like, was I naïve to think life would feel more solid at this point? Is adulthood just pretending you’re not scared all the time?? I keep wondering if I’m broken or just behind, if this is temporary or permanent. People talk about resilience and mindset, but they don’t talk about how exhausting it is to build those things while drowning. I don’t want to give up—seriously, I don’t—but what if I already have and just haven’t admitted it? Does anyone else feel like they’re being pushed into the future with no idea what they're doing? Because I do. And I don’t think that’s something a motivational quote is going to fix.

Friendship problems don’t always come from fights.

Sometimes they come from success.

Or insecurity.

Or unspoken competition.

You notice it in subtle comparisons. In jokes that sting a little. In the way celebration feels slightly uncomfortable.

I used to ignore those signals. Now I don’t. Patterns matter. Whether it’s in people or in logic puzzles, repetition tells you something.

If a friendship constantly leaves you second-guessing yourself, that’s a pattern too. And you don’t have to keep solving the same grid if it keeps erasing you.

Anyway, this whole thought spiral just reminded me I still have two unfinished Sudoku Noir puzzles from Copper Clues waiting on my desk. Might as well complete something that actually wants to be solved.

TW, RELIGIOUS PSYCHOSIS,F*RCE FEEDING, AB*SE, MENTAL ILLNESS

[Present time] right now it feels horrid in my house, been eating like sh*t, feeling like sh*t, and my parents keep acting like everything is okay. I assume my mother hasn't told him that she wants a divorce(look at my other story for context) But honestly I'm scared sh*tless if he does, I'm scared. I'm scared that he'll go crazy again and hurt me or my mother.

[Past time, when was about 8-10 around then] so this was when I was coming home from school after taking the bus, my father recently stopped picking me up at my bustop but honestly I was glad I'm really ashamed of him. So I walk into my house and up my stairs (apartment) and I pause as I heard slaps and crying of my mom...? So I immediately speed up and run to the top of the stairs. There it was, my own "dad" hitting my mom, with her on the floor on her knees crying. I'm 8-10 so I stop and stand still, because what else am I supposed to do??? Yell? Stop him? She looked at me mid slap. "Oh my God! (Name), go upstairs!" is what she said, didn't want to see her get hurt so I listened. I dropped my bag on the floor and quickly ran away to my room and shut my door and sat on my bed. Sitting there. Doing nothing. Hearing her muffled cries and begs. [Time skip slightly, 20 minutes later] she comes up and opens my door as I was crying from guilt and worry, I immediately try to stop and stare at her in fear and worry because I thought she would've d*ed. But she just walks in and hugs me tightly, muttering it's okay. So I start crying more because this is my mom crying as well? And that's all I really remember from that.

[I think a couple days after the last story thingy] so it was morning in my bedroom and my "dad" brought me some pancakes(microwave type). So he sits me down and gives me my food and sits down with me on my bed, start eating them and I said that I didn't want them all. So this mother f*cker moves closer and takes the pancakes in his hand, shoves it in my mouth, forces me to chew it for a bit. So I'm crying. I'm 8-10 then. So he then says "None of this matters, it doesn't f*cking matter!! Because we all are dying and going to heaven!!" so now he puts his hand in my mouth and takes out the chewed up food and throws it at my bathroom door. He has a crazy, big pupiled, crazy smile on his face. So I scream for my mom. She comes running and screams as well, pulls him off me and takes me away from him to her room. And hugs me as I sobbed. And I remember her asking me what happened but I don't remember anything else.

[Around the time of the last timeskip] My dad was in this weird religious psychosis?? He wasn't even Christian for sake!! But whatever... So it was mid evening and I hear yelling as I was doing homework at the dining table. It was yelling about car keys and where were they? Mind you these keys belonged to my grandfather/ my REAL FATHER FIGURE. So obviously I needed to know because it was someone I cared about. So my father says "I threw them in the trail in the woods when I walked the dogs, god told me to." what the actual f*ck???? So my mom goes "what?" in disbelief because really we needed that car. So my mom soon starts yelling at them and they start fighting. Next thing I know I'm being pulling upstairs to pack bags to leave withmy grandpa outside yelling and arguing with my father about keys and how crazy my "dad" was. So obviously I'm scared. I'm 8 or 10??? So I cry and do as I'm told and soon we are running down the stairs and I see my "dad" with crazy eyes yelling "You can't take (my name) away!! That's my daughter!" I'm scared. SCARED. I'm sobbing and trying to get to the car my grandma was in with my bags. So now I look up at the yelling coming from my house window, it's my dad screaming, "I'll find you (name)! I'll f*cking get you back!!" uhm!!! I'm sobbing because I'm scared of my "dad" right now. So my grandma starts driving to leave, the path circles around the house. So I see my "dad" leaning out the window arguing with my grandpa where the keys were in the woods, my grandpa was mad so he started going to find them in the woods. And then I felt my grandma's hand holding mine so I broke, her pink nail polish and her clamy hands felt so good right then. And thats all i remember and the car keys got remade as they couldn't find them. Then I also stayed at my grandparents place for a bit as they put my "dad" in the hospfital for a while.

[Around when I was 9?] so my mom comes down stairs and accidently drops a mug and yells about leaving stuff everywhere and how useless my father was. So my mom starts grabbing mugs from the cup cabinet and throws them on the floor so my "dad" rushes to stop her and yells at her to stop and she does and starts crying. That's all I remember and I remember ending up at my grandparents place for a bit when she went to the hospital for a bit.

Thx for getting this far lol, I'd love any comments or opinions!!!

I've lost myself, I think. I don't know who I am anymore. I'm mad at everybody for reasons I can't explain. I'm upsetting everyone somehow but I don't remember when I say or do something to upset people. My memory gaps have gotten so bad that all of my friends probably hate me but I don't remember why. Where has my memory gone? who even am I anymore?

My family are big on surprises🥳!! But thanks for Amazons new policy... The private lists when shopping aren't there😱! So, let's say I wanna buy my cousin an F1(race car sport) T-shirt from Amazon as a surprise... He'd see what I bought thanks to Amazon getting rid of the anonymity of who's buy the item and what item is being bought😭!!

This s*cks man🫠!!

"I will love you forever

my love is infinite"

my bf said something in front of some people who did not need to hear it. It was super upsetting. and now he feels bad bc I ignored it when he tried to apologized.

should I apologize?

I'm a fairly short guy, standing somewhere between 5'4" and 5'5", and currently in my thirties. My buddy Mike towers over me at 6'1". We first crossed paths at a gathering some years ago, and although he's quite the head-turner, Mike is currently working as a waiter at a local café. I, on the other hand, am doing quite well financially, to put it modestly.

Mike has been dating a girl named Emily. Just the other day, we were all chilling at his apartment, along with a few more of his friends. Unlike them, I don't drink alcohol at all and I absolutely detest it, yet everyone else was indulging and getting pretty tipsary. As the evening wore on, they started throwing around what they considered "banter". One remark targeted my height, ridiculing my single status as well.

Out of the blue, Mike remarked, "Honestly man, it's no shock you're still flying solo—you're seriously on the shorter side, and most ladies would take a pass at first glance." Laughter erupted around the room, Emily included.

Caught off guard, I retorted sharply, "Well, at least I'm not scraping by on a minimum-wage paycheck." I shot back further, "By the way, many women wouldn’t exactly see you as husband material in your current job."

That set off a firestorm. Mike was livid, and the rest of them joined the fray. A fiery verbal exchange erupted. Eventually, I told them to bugger off and stormed out.

Had this been captured on a reality show, the reaction might have been explosively mixed. Reality TV thrives on conflict and dramatic confrontations, so it's likely the audience would have been hooked, eagerly taking sides. Viewers might debate whether my response was justified or if I should have kept my cool. Social media would buzz with opinions, some calling me out for my comments about Mike’s job, while others might sympathize with my reaction to the personal digs about my height.

Am I the bad guy here, or what? He started...

As a Muslim woman who chooses to wear the hijab, I strictly adhere to the conviction of covering my hair and most of my body as a gesture of faith and modesty. My choice in this regard is personal and based on my religious beliefs; I respect the choices of others who may be different from my own while not imposing my values on them.

Recently, I attended the bachelorette party of my longtime friend, Layla, just before her wedding. Layla, who isn’t particularly religious, has always respected my customs – she even selected a modest-style abaya for me to wear as her maid of honor. Our understanding always made me comfortable in our friendship, believing that she appreciated the significance of my hijab.

At the all-women gathering, I felt relaxed enough to remove my hijab since we were amidst close friends and planned an overnight stay. The fun evening included watching movies and taking pictures and videos – memories captured among friends, meant to stay private. I assumed these images were confined to our chat groups.

However, after driving home the next day, I saw that Layly had tagged me in a public Instagram post where my hair was visible. I immediately contacted her to kindly remove the image or at least cover my hair in the photo. Surprisingly, Layla objected, citing that there were no better photos and that I was overreacting. Troubled by her response, I suggested cropping me out or modifying the image, but she was adamant that it wouldn’t look right.

Feeling upset, I expressed my concerns in our group chat, hoping for support. Opinions were divided; some friends sided with me, understanding my request for privacy, while others, led by one who often opposes me, disregarded my feelings. Layla defended her position by saying the wedding stress was overwhelming her, although I don't see how this issue relates to her wedding preparations.

Amidst this, I couldn’t help but wonder, if my situation were part of a reality TV show, would the audience perceive my reaction as an overreaction or see it as a justified call for personal respect and privacy? The nature of reality TV often skews true intentions for dramatic effect, potentially magnifying my distress or trivializing it to entertain an audience.

Am I unreasonable in wanting respect for my privacy and religious practices, or is it too much to expect friends to understand and honor my personal choices?

i’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it means to cut off contact with your own parents. it’s not a decision you make lightly, it’s not something you wake up one morning and decide “oh, i’m done with them now,” and it’s definitely not a thing you can explain to people without sounding like the villain. but the truth is, it wasn’t just one big fight, or a betrayal that led me here. it was more like a million little paper cuts that eventually made me bleed out. each conversation, each snide comment, each cold shoulder... they stacked up like bricks around my chest until breathing became a chore. and now, i’m at a point where silence feels safer than words ever did.

there’s this misconception that going no contact is an impulsive act, a dramatic outburst, but let me tell you – it’s calculated, it’s weighed, and it’s born from years of exhaustion. for me, it wasn’t about punishing them; it was about protecting myself. there’s a sort of peace in not waiting for a call that won’t come, in not bracing for the disappointment that hits you when you realize the people who were supposed to love you unconditionally... just didn’t know how. i still remember the last time i tried to explain my feelings to them, how i said, “i just need space,” and they responded with guilt-tripping and accusations like i was betraying the family code. maybe you’ve felt that too, the subtle manipulation, the expectation that no matter what, you’ll bend because “they’re your parents” – but at what cost?

cutting ties isn’t about hate, it’s about survival. sometimes you’ve got to ask yourself, “how much more of myself do i have to lose before i finally put up a boundary?” i used to sit in my room after those long, draining phone calls, wondering if i was being too sensitive, too dramatic, too harsh. but with time, i realized i was just human, and there’s only so much hurt you can endure before you have to step away for your own sanity. and yes, the guilt still gnaws at me, especially on holidays or when i hear from relatives asking why i’ve become so distant. but i remind myself that self-preservation isn’t selfishness; it’s necessary.

so, i sit here now, scrolling through old photos, thinking about what could have been if they had just tried a little harder, listened a little closer, or loved a little better. but i can’t change them, and i can’t keep sacrificing my peace to maintain a relationship that only drains me. i’m learning to accept that some doors are meant to stay closed, that not every story gets a happy ending, and that’s okay. sure, there’s a lingering sadness, an ache for what i wish i had, but there’s also relief in knowing i’ve chosen myself, finally. and maybe that’s the real takeaway here – that sometimes the healthiest love is the one you give yourself, even when it means walking away from those who were supposed to give it to you first.

does it ever get easier? i don’t know. maybe it’s just one of those things you learn to live with, like a scar that reminds you of a wound that’s healed but still aches when it rains. and when people ask me if i’ll ever reconnect, i just shrug and say, “maybe one day,” because who really knows? but for now, i’m okay with the quiet, with the space i’ve carved out for myself, and with the understanding that no contact doesn’t mean no love – it just means love from a distance. and maybe that’s enough; maybe that’s all i can give.

Last night, we had a family reunion and I was already kind of in a bad mood since my had taken a nap bc of a hang over she still have from last night (she's a bit of an alchoholic) and overslept which caused us to be late to the dinner. once we reached the place we sat down and she started getting a little drunk agaiin thanks to the alchohol served, she started saying things (as she does when she's drunk) about me; like this waiter who looked a little older than me an make a living while i'm over here always cooped up in my room all the time(huh i wonder why); she also made some unnecessary comments about my dress (i asked her for help prior to the diner but she told me she didn't know and waved me off), i get that this was drunk talk and i shouldn't take it seriously but when it comes from someone who conributed in creating you it kinda hurts a little y'know? and then she started comparing to my cousins(average parent protocol atp)

and then it was time for a family group photo. I don't like to take photos that often so i tend to just scoot to the very edge of the group, and unfortunatley i was next ot her. She grabbed my waist which kinda scared me and i shved her away and then she started pulling me harder andlike digging her nails and screaming at me and i just got really stressed out. she would usually like swing an arm around me and all duirng group ohotos but never grab me which was whwy i kinda reacted that way. I know that i should'nt have acted out (especially in public like that) but i ws just really stressed at the time.

and after that she wasn't done with me yet and continuedscreaming at me saying that "i'm you're mother i should be allowed to touch you" and i told her that she grabbed me and it hurt a lot and she kept on denying that (keep in mind she's still drunk) and then this continues (by then i havd already put my earphones in so i could't here much of her slander) and even after the reunion she's still fighting with me. she gets up all ino my face which pissed me off (by thenim tired and just want he to shut up becasue she's etremely drunk by now).

and she's still fighting with me untilwe get into the car, my dad leaves us for us to settle down while he go finds the other family members to help them find their car and she starts hitting me, and my little brother is caught in between and i just wanted to pull him outta there because he was clearly stressed from the noise and trying to settle it down and my mom was grabbing him and isolating him from me it really hurt. she slapped me and made me hit my head a lot but at that point i was kinda numb for physical pain. i gave my little brother my earphones so he would have something to at least dronw out the noise.

and the things that when we were fighting i would say smt like "why do you hit me so much?" and she would say "you hate me! you don't love me!", and when i was rrying to explain she was making me uncomfortable whenn she grabbed me and i dont know what kinda mental gymnastics did she have to do to get from that to "i'm a danger to you!" "cal the police and arrest me!" "I'm a horrible mother!" "you're not a part of this family if i'm dangerous to you!"

i apologised for acting out in public when i probably shoulve' just sucked it up as she said and what not since everytime we take a rgoup photo she slings her arm around me (thats probably th eonly time we touchaso yeah that probably just gave me a headachre worse than when she shoved me into the car window. the way she grabbed my brother probably hurt the most tbh, i vowed to myself that i'd protect him and keep him safe from my parents but i just made things os much worse for him. and even after when my dad came bac did she stop saying anything, but once we got back she only continued. she strated hitting me more and screaming and repeating everything and she tore down the rack filled of things i genuinely care about. by then my dad came up and told her to stop and brought her away. i huddled up in the corner i think and started idk, becoming two people, i needed to clean up the mess she made but i also just wanted to sit there and rest, but i cleaned anyways while my parents fought outside. i heard something along the lines of "just go to sleep" (it was 2am) and that was it for then. after i finished cleaning my mom came back and started to scream at me again and getting me up agaiinst the wall and blocking my way when i was trying to do things, she pulled the "im a terrible mother" card and shoved her phone in my face trying ot get me to cal the police, it made me sick tbh, i apolohised again for the same thing just in case she forgot but also asked for my own since she kinda did hit me and onvade my personal space but she just huffed and she went back to her room (this actually made her look kinda like a kid which was a little unsettling per say)

and in the next 15 minutes she came back again to contonue screaming. she kept on grabbing and clawwing at my shoulder and wasit and generally just taunting me to "call the police" as she kept on saying. it honesty just gavenme the headache.

i know that during all that i was being as calm as i could possibly, letting her scream at me and what not. i was prettys sure she was drunk so i started making light of the sitautions like singing random meme audious or just making my own jokes to myself like if she was sticking her finger into my face i would go "wait, they dont loveme like i love you" (keep in mind it was 3am at that point and i cant say i was thinking straight either)

and eventually it got so bad because she wouldn't let me walk or have my own personal spcae (that i really like) that i went down, with my laptop to study for a test i have where my dad was watching tv thinking my mom wqas asleep. he asked me why i was still awake and coming down and at that point i just kinda broke down, and he went up and told her to stop repeated and harrasing me and all that. i couldn't sleep but i didn't feel like thinking at all, i just wanted to lay on the floor and breathe. my parents were fighting till maybe 4? im not toos ure sincei put on my headphones so silence it out. so yeah thats pretty much it but theres a few things that i wanna say about this:

- wheneve i tried to say something she would interrupt or she wouldn't take a single thing i said to consideration and pull out her own version of what i said and reply to that instead (probably bc of the alchohol)

- she would follow me around and grab me and taunt me and putting her face/finger/phone in my face which i think has just given me major claustrophobia

- she pulled the "i fought with your dad for you to go to a good school" card a lot but whenever it was just me or my dad, he woul always make sure i had the things i needed for school and always wanted to know i was happy or not, she's been pulling this card since i was idk, 5? and now that i think about it, someone who was againts giivng me a good education wouldn't want to further contribute to that no? she also said that she had to fight for me to have my own room which was also weird, idk who to trust anymore because it's not llike i can jyst ask my dad. but if she's lying then i think that she probabl had some delirious dream that was so vivid she belived it was true or maybe my dad actually didn't want me to have a good education but that would be really weird, but then again maybe he still doesn't believe in it but has no choice since he's already given in.

someone please tell me if this is normal and that i'm just being dramatic and that my teenager hormones are acting up