Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

My bf has had some troubles since he was very young when it come to sexual pleasure and to self pleasure as well.

We've been together 5 years now and 4 of them were very long distance. It was a bit of a problem even then since his sex drive on long distance was very high while mine not. We have moved now together and we've been living with eachother for almost a year. Our sex life hasn't been very intense but thats bc we both work a lot and fitness-wise we aren't that active. That, we dont mind, we've talked about it and it's enough for both.

But last holidays he went online and started sexting with an other girl including pictures. She was a stranger and he hasnt talked to her (from what i knwo) again. Last week it happened again and it was a different stranger. I know him well enough to know that he truly isnt the type to go and cheat but that self pleasure and sexual urge is very strong sometimes and he doesnt think about it clearly in the moment.

We have of course discussed it and he was the one to let me know later that evening bc he couldn't leep it anymore. It wasnt even that I or he didnt want to have intercourse but I was on my period and we dont do anything in the time of the month.

What hurts more ig is that this time instead of being at work while he did that i was in our office playing online with others and he was in the living room. Somehow that makes it worse? I cant explain it but it hasn't bothered me like this before. Last time i completely brushed it off and even forgot about it bc I understand him.

Idk what to think and how to handle this and i dont have anyone else to talk about it except for him bc he is my best friend as well.

I really love him and its not black and white. I just want to find a way to handle this.

so i had a best friend, shes wonderful. but her BF broke up with her. after about a month she confessed to me and like all my previous relationships, to not hurt her (and because I love her, don't take it outta context!!!!), I say yes. half of the time when my gf talks to me its like either funny memes, relationship posts, or talking about mental health or just ranting about someone we hate. i want her in my life, shes amazing. i love her so much. but, I don't really understand love as a whole. but talking to me about mental health made me think of things that happened to me in the past, and I realized I don't know what I'm doing AT ALL. most of my personality is just other people and characters from fandoms and stuff, its almost pathetic. i never had a good romantic relationship growing up, my parents got divorced this October anyway, its hard, I love my GF, but I just cant figure out which feeling love IS. can someone help me? its just so confusing. i don't know my own personality or what love is as a whole, even though I have a girlfriend. i just need some advice

I think my sister is narcissistic?

I won't go into to much detail, because the past isn't relavent, but just to quickly summarize our current drama there has been tension between us for months because she wanted to watch a video, I told her no, she got angry at me, then she's made it her life mission to make me is miserable as possible. She shit talked me to all of my friends, told my commissioner to block me, refused to let me get into contact with people who commissioned me (logged me out of my account that I communicate to my customers on, then refused to let me have it back because 'she needed it more'), stole my package because it was "basically hers" cause I owed her a few dollars, She deleted multiple of my projects, she's been logging into my accounts and watching my activity on all of them, and she has been lingering in my room to see if I put anything new into it (she said this herself), and on top of that her lovely gaslighting! She keeps bringing up past events, hating on my friends to justify her honestly torment at this point towards me (things that I did when I was 15, I am currently 19) and it is making me miserable.

I have not been interacting with her because of the way she's been treating me, she finds this frustrating and takes every opportunity that I walk by her to comment on my physical apperance, my personality and my "lack of friends". I chose not to respond. This week, I thought things may have gotten better so I tried to approach her asking a geniune question. It was about tomodachi life, simple conversation, just asking how the game is because she had early access to it, she told be she was unable to run it on her computer, I told her I ordered a physical copy. She immediately accused me of lying, then when I clarfied she started asking me to share it with her, I told her id think about it, this seemed to irritate her even more, she then asked about a previous drama (for short context: she added me into a groupchat with people I was unfaimilar with where they were actively sending explicit photos, they were all alot older then me and they were making some.. interesting.. jokes, I started responding to some of the messages telling them to have some shame, yes it was petty, but there was no reason for her to add me into it) she claimed that me responding to her friends was harassment, and she told me that I should take accountability for it. I honestly, didnt care, I think revealing someone to nude pictures without their knowledge is far worse then a light hearted, almost playful, "have some shame". So I, yes im petty, ignored her, walked downstairs.

She follows me downstairs, screaming at me and calling me slurs, saying that im a harasser for sending messages in the groupchat and blaming me for giving her a panic attack when she saw me message in the groupchat. I told her to leave me alone, and stop harassing me, it was mocking, I kept repeating it over and over again to use her own logic against her, so shed leave me alone. I was being cocky, but I wasnt getting mad or verbally aggressive with her, she starts screaming that I never listen to her, I tell her that ive heard it 1000 times and im tired of her lies. she proudly declares she deleted my projects, I tell I already started a new one, So i dont care, she says good. She then goes on this whole tangent about how nobody in my family loves me, how im worthless and once my family sees through my "lies" they wont love me anymore, she says im insecure, lonely and manipulative, she says this is the reason why I dont have any friends. She goes on to call me the devils reincarnate, says that I had a master plan to make all her friends stop liking her (they stopped liking her because she sabatoged their reputations with blatant and lies, called them slurs, horrible names, blocked them everywhere, started a whole smear campaign against them i swear then expected them to come back to her. they disliked her for a reason.) She just said alot of awful things about me but I wasnt letting it get to me, I pointed out that she physically hurt me during an altercation, where she involved my mother, who looked at all the evidence and realized that my sister was lying once again, when my sister got caught, she pulled out her phone, recorded me, screamed and berated me, then threw a very thick dog treat that ended up hitting my head. I told her that somehow she finds this acceptable, but me messagign in the groupchat was a crime, she tried to go back to the groupchat, I told her I dont care, and I dont have anything to be sorry for, it was petty and stupid yes, but its not nearly as intense as anything shes done (PETTY I KNOW!). She cant win the argument because im tryna act like nothings getting under my skin, she screams that Im a worhtless loser as shes going up, I respond more mad this time, I say that she is the jobless one with no education so who is the real loser, she then screams "atleast im not ugly!" i asked her to repeat herself she calls me a "chud" and runs upstairs.

I told my mom word for word what happened, and my mum confronted my sister about it, and guess what my sister did. She told my mom that I lied and none of that happened, she told her that I started a conversation with her so (??) i couldnt hear her point, but she was denying everything, saying that I lied to gaslight and manipulate my mum into sympathizing and feeling sorry for me, then when my mom called her out on her lie, she screamed off the top of her lungs, got extremely aggressive, insulted me some more, then ran off.

Ive been spending time in the basement because im afraid of her temper and want to be left alone, ive been doing my homework and studying. She comes down, says that I am fat once again, says that I am hogging the tv (mind you, theyve been using the basement tv for three days in a row now), i tell her its not a crime to enjoy the new watching space she gets mad once again because ugh its alot of bickering, then she gets mad at me for rewatching invicinble, she calls me a "larp" (which means poser in the new age) and gets really mad that im watching invincible its so random, shes more mad about that then anything else, then she storms off.

What is her problem. Im also worried cause I was venting on my instagram account (THE NIGHT BEFORE) about how I felt lonely in the family cause everyone had their person but me, and then shes bringing up that im lonely unloved and nobody in the family cares about me. Do you think shes watching my instragram stories on my private account somehow? Im being really paranoid, sure, but shes been logging into all my stuff and that was like so ultra specific!

she even went through all my text messages with me and my mum! so i'm terrified to know how much control she has over my stuff-- I changed the passwords for now but I still feel paranoid as hell! I can't believe I trusted her with so much of my sensitive information. Its not the first time we got into a small argument which she escalates and tries to do anything in her power to hurt me! she's literally used her long nails to dig very aggressively into my arms when I told her that mum told her to take out the trash once, its not unlike her to get aggressive with me but it gets annoying when she cried harassment over a discord message but she physically hurts me, stalks me and is just creepy! She even admitted to me not even a week ago about how she dosen't actually care about any of this stuff she's just annoyed with me and everyone! so like-- what do i even do! this isn't even emotional its for the love of them game!

Do I just ignore her again? Im honestly scared of her.

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?

My mom recently told me to “save myself” and get out of my relationship — essentially, to run. Ever since, I can’t stop thinking about it.

My partner and I have been together for just over 4 years. He proposed about a year ago. We’ve had highs and lows, but now I’m wondering if the bad outweighs the good.

He has long-standing mental health struggles: specifically, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Complex PTSD, and Generalized Anxiety Disorder. He’s been slowly learning to manage them better. And to be clear, I don’t think mental illness excuses poor behavior, but I do believe it adds context.

I also have my own issues — I have an anxious attachment style, and while I’ve never been formally diagnosed with anything else, I know I carry some of my own trauma.

My mom knows about some of the incidents we’ve gone through. Sometimes, when he’s triggered or overwhelmed, he shifts into a cold, mean, and distant version of himself. He feels like a different person — which makes sense, given the DID. I try my best to support him and stay patient, but when these episodes last for days, it really affects me. I stop feeling loved or even seen.

He also sometimes talks to new people — sometimes romantically, sometimes not. We’ve had an open relationship on and off because his personality changes have made consistent boundaries complicated. But it’s hard not to feel insecure or like I’m being replaced, even though he says he loves me deeply and always will.

When he shuts down, he leaves. He won’t respond to texts or calls for hours or whole evenings. During the worst of these, I’ve called my mom in tears. Once, I asked him about someone he was messaging, and he exploded. He called me stupid, said I wasn’t “evolved enough” for him, and that he needed someone who trusts and motivates him. That crushed me — I was only asking for reassurance.

After these moments, he usually comes back, apologizes, and says he’s working on changing. He’s loving again, and we go back to “normal.” But it’s a cycle. The dark side always returns.

My mom thinks this is manipulation. She says he’s using me — I pay for most of our life right now, since he’s in school. She believes he apologizes just enough to keep me around because I support him financially and emotionally. She hasn’t seen the best parts of him… but she also hasn’t seen the worst. And if she knew everything, I think she’d try to physically get me out of here.

So now I’m left wondering:

• Is he being emotionally manipulative and possibly abusive?

• Or is this just a deeply broken person doing his best and deserving patience?

• Is my mom being overprotective, or is she seeing something I’ve been too close to recognize?

I’m stuck between wanting to support the person I love and wondering if staying means abandoning myself. What would you do?

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

I feel like I’m going to lose my mind, friends. I’m not acting normal. I feel like I’m about to interact with a girl, and I’m going crazy. I don’t want to come off like this—with all this anxiety. I live alone, dear friends, and I don’t want to give her or her family a bad impression of people who live this way.

If she’s going to be with me—which I don’t even know why I’m saying that, considering we’ve barely spoken—I don’t want her to think of me like that. I believe people who live alone deserve respect, and often, we don’t get it. That’s been my experience—people have taken advantage of me, played games with me, even tried to invade my space. It’s awful. You feel like the whole world is trying to mess with your life. Like everyone wants to change you. It’s deeply uncomfortable, friends.

I don’t want to go to her house and have her or her family try to change me. I don’t want anyone to try to mold my life to fit theirs—to make things easier for them—or treat me like some kind of servant or tool. People have tried that with me before, and it was horrible. I just want a peaceful life. I want a calm existence where I can be who I truly am.

I’m scared to take a risk with this girl. I’m really afraid. So many people have tried to change me before. I don’t want to alter my habits or give up my solitude. I just want to be left in peace. I feel like I’ve suffered too much, and I’m fed up. I also feel like this girl has reached a breaking point too—that she might have once been very rigid with people like me, but now she’s trying to open up because she’s had enough of that way of being.

As for me, I feel like I’m trying to open up to a girl—with everything I have—while also being precise in how I go about it. I don’t want to lose myself or make her lose herself either. I want to get it right. I’m tired of being alone, of not having a partner. I say it honestly and without shame: I need to be accepted as I am. But I don’t want submission—I want mutual support. I don’t want to be a burden to her.

I don’t know. But I get the feeling we’re all going through this. I feel like her family and mine—and both of us—are all slowly adapting to the idea that we’re different, but we want to be together. We feel like we’re on the right path. We want to be accepted, yes—but not at the cost of losing who we are. We want to support each other while staying ourselves. I think everyone deserves that, friends. We all deserve something that lets us be ourselves in peace—something that helps us grow, something that inspires us to develop the parts the other is missing, to complement each other. Maybe I’m rambling, but I think it makes sense.

I believe—and I don’t know why I’m saying this so directly—but I think that in this family (yes, I’m including myself now), we all want peace and calm. To coexist with what’s different from us, and to have that difference also want to coexist with us. No more fighting, no more closed-mindedness. That’s what we want. And honestly, it’s what’s always drawn us to each other. Why keep denying it? Saying it’s “wrong” just makes you feel like you’re the one who’s wrong. I think in that very difference is where we fit. And we just need to learn how to handle this. Expression—venting—is the key that opens the door.

Also, friends, I want a relationship where—please, God—we can be together, grow together, and talk openly with others about that growth. A relationship that lets us develop ideas, share them with confidence and ease. I’m tired—we’re all tired—of being stuck in situations only we can understand. We want something normal, something that helps us move through society, stay connected, feel supported, and not be cut off by the world’s rejection. Maybe we share common experiences, but now is the time to leave them behind. We’ve had enough. I truly think this experience is good for all of us. It’s a breath of fresh air.

I feel like this girl and I want to be together—and that we deserve to be. Look, there was only one time we sat together and couldn’t talk, didn’t know what to say. We felt distant, and it was awful—unbearable. That can’t happen again. We deserve better. We’re ready to be in a space that supports us, stays close, and wants to understand us as we are. We understand our parents’ needs, but we can’t carry them anymore. It’s too much.

We’ve been carrying far too much for far too long. It’s time for a new beginning—with new people who inspire us to be ourselves. To feel welcomed, and supported, both by ourselves and by others. No more fading into someone else. Enough of that. I have to say it: I feel like this girl and I love each other. And I think both our families are finally ready—and willing—to understand that. Why keep fighting about relationships? No more.

We all just want a peaceful life. Let those who need to walk away do so. It’s time to feel safe—and welcomed. Honestly, I think we’re all going through the same thing. I think her family, her mother, my father, and I—we all feel like the world around us isn’t made for us. I believe this new union is meant to happen.

imagine this scenario:

a teenager, he is a student, isolated from the world around him. he longs to connect with people, but circumstances have built walls he cannot climb. his school is far away, his family rarely interacts with neighbors, and his parents, being reserved and socially withdrawn, have little connection with society. he is not allowed to leave home without permission, nor to use social media. layer upon layer, these restrictions have shaped his solitude, turning what once felt like temporary boundaries into a permanent way of life.

deep down, he wants friends. he wants to belong. but fear holds him back, fear of choosing the wrong people, of being hurt, of not fitting in. he overthinks every possible interaction until the courage to act fades away. so, despite his longing, he rarely tries. instead, he watches life from the sidelines, silently hoping someone might notice him first.

there is, however, one thing that makes him feel less alone, zubeen garg. he has known zubeen’s voice since childhood, growing up with his songs woven into the background of his days, until that voice became something deeply familiar, almost like the sound of home. to him, zubeen isn’t just a distant celebrity but someone who feels close, his voice feels familiar, comforting, almost like part of his own family. when he listens to those songs, a quiet warmth rises within him, reminding him that he is assamese, part of a culture and a crowd that come alive together in zubeen’s music. watching people sing in unison at concerts makes him feel, even from afar, that he too belongs somewhere. and it isn’t a forced attachment, he genuinely loves the music, its emotion, honesty, and life. in a world where everything else feels cold and unreachable, zubeen garg’s voice is the one familiar sound that still makes him feel at home.

he had once had a girlfriend who seemed like she had stepped right out of his imagination. shy yet confident, cute, tall, caring, honest, loyal, and genuinely in love with him without a trace of resentment or immaturity. she was everything he thought he deserved, yet he rejected himself. how could someone like him, so flawed and insecure, ever be worthy of her? in his mind, she was perfect, and he was far from it. part of him felt blessed to have had her in his life, a glimpse of what happiness could look like, and yet the same thought made him feel unbearably unlucky. he didn’t want to make her life harder or bring his own imperfections into hers, so he quietly stepped back, no messages, no calls, no meets, but it wasn’t a breakup. he told her he would meet her again someday, when he had become the person he believed she deserved. until then, he stepped away from her life, carrying both gratitude and regret. if he becomes better, he might return; if not, he will watch from afar, silently wishing her the best.

physically, he believes himself weak, and to some extent, he’s right. he always wanted to be the kind of person who’s strong, fit, and good at sports, the version of himself he wishes he could become. but every school sports day reminds him how far he is from that image. each time he falls behind, it’s not the loss that hurts most, but the feeling of failing himself. he looks at others and wonders why he can’t be like them, fast, confident, effortless. every time he comes up short, the gap between who he is and who he wants to be feels wider, and that disappointment slowly turns into self-criticism.

no one validates him. he has no one to confide in, no one to truly understand what he feels. during social events, his insecurities rise to the surface. surrounded by others, he feels invisible, as if his presence makes no difference. even laughter and conversation around him seem to happen on a frequency he can’t tune into. in those moments, he doesn’t just feel left out; he feels erased.

he often finds himself questioning his own emotions. Are they real, or just the product of overthinking? is he being foolish, or is this the long-suppressed voice of his inner child, quietly crying for attention after years of being ignored? sometimes he wonders if the pain he feels is even valid, or if he’s imagining it all. he’s trapped in a loop of doubt, because no one has ever truly listened, and he’s never been given a chance to make sense of himself in the eyes of another.

he tells himself he deserves a normal life, as if the one he lives doesn’t count as one. constant worry consumes him: what will his future look like? he knows his current habits aren’t leading him toward his goals, becoming a doctor, earning respect, finding belonging, yet he feels powerless to change them.

he sees his dreams as distant fantasies, not possibilities. that thought terrifies him. he feels unlucky, unlucky to be so isolated, unlucky to have grown up in such circumstances, with these parents, this family, this school. and yet, beneath all that hopelessness, a faint spark remains, a small, stubborn belief that maybe, one day, life could still be different.

in his quiet moments, he isn’t just lonely, he feels forgotten by the world, as though he exists on the edges of everyone else’s story.

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hello everyone, i wanted to share a part of my life with you. i’ve tried my best to express it clearly and honestly. thank you for taking the time to read, i would truly appreciate any thoughts or comments. and if any part of this story feels relatable to you, i’d love for you to share your own story too.

I can’t get out of this. It has been almost 2 years since my A levels but it still haunts me. I have achieved A*s after extreme hard work as I was never that great of a student in my childhood so I had to work a lot. However in my A levels I got relatively poor grades especially in Biology, and biology is my strongest subject ( seriously ). Because of those grades I couldn’t even apply to Medical school, which has been my dream since childhood, as it’s a requirement to have an A for the application. It's so bad that the thought of it makes me nauseous.

My mom used to say, "What's the point of receiving the highest grades at school if you score that badly?" My dad called me a third grade student twice ( meaning like an extremely bad student ) and asked which university would ever take me in as I received those grades. My university has two similar courses like A levels and before giving the quizzes or exams I always panic and cry. My family is so tired of hearing me say all of this that it has affected me a lot because I have seen myself get compared with my siblings and friends. I wish I could move on but getting good grades in A levels had been such a long dream of mine that I can’t move on, I feel like such a failure, even now at university whenever I get a good grade or I feel like I know the content I feel like I am deceiving myself as I did so bad. I can’t move on.

I don’t even know where to start. For as long as I can remember, there’s been this feeling deep inside me, a constant whisper that I’m not good enough. Every day, I ask myself, why do I hate myself so much? And every day, I come up empty. It’s like I’m stuck in this loop, and I can’t figure out how to break free.

The crazy part is, from the outside, you’d probably think my life is fine. I have a decent job, supportive friends, and a family that loves me. But none of that seems to matter when the voice in my head tells me over and over that I’m a failure. It’s not like I choose to feel this way—it’s just there, like a shadow I can’t escape.

For me, the self-hate started small. I’d beat myself up over little things, like saying something awkward in a conversation or getting a bad grade in school. Back then, I thought everyone did that. But over time, those thoughts got louder, and now it feels like they’re all I can hear. No matter what I do, I’m constantly second-guessing myself. Did I handle that situation right? Did I offend someone without realizing it? Am I even worth anyone’s time?

Social situations are the worst. I’ll be in a group, and instead of enjoying the moment, I’m obsessing over whether people actually like me. I’ll replay conversations in my head for days, analyzing every word I said and convincing myself I sounded stupid or needy. The worst part is, even when people tell me I’m fine or that I’m overthinking, I don’t believe them. It’s like my brain won’t let me accept anything positive about myself.

And don’t even get me started on my appearance. Some days, I can barely look in the mirror. I pick apart every flaw, every imperfection, and wonder how anyone could find me attractive. I know it’s unhealthy, but it feels impossible to stop. Social media doesn’t help either. I’ll scroll through Instagram and see all these perfect people with perfect lives, and it just makes me feel worse. I know it’s fake, but it still gets to me.

At work, it’s the same story. I could spend hours on a project, pouring everything I have into it, but as soon as I hand it in, all I can think about are the mistakes I might have made. Even when I get good feedback, it doesn’t stick. Instead, I focus on the one piece of criticism or the one thing I think I could’ve done better. It’s exhausting.

The thing is, I don’t even know where this self-hate comes from. I didn’t have a traumatic childhood. My parents were strict, sure, but they loved me and did their best. So why do I hate myself? Why can’t I shake this feeling that I’m not enough, no matter what I do?

I’ve tried all the usual advice—positive affirmations, journaling, even therapy. And while those things help in the moment, the feeling always comes back. It’s like there’s this wall between me and actually believing anything good about myself. I’ll write down things I’m proud of or things I’ve achieved, but they always feel small compared to the weight of everything I think I’ve failed at.

One of the hardest parts is how isolating it feels. I know I’m not the only one who feels this way—there are forums and articles and videos about it—but in my daily life, it’s hard to imagine anyone else struggling like this. Everyone around me seems so confident, so sure of themselves. Meanwhile, I’m over here just trying to make it through the day without falling apart.

Sometimes, I wonder if I’ll ever feel differently. Will there ever be a day where I wake up and don’t feel this weight on my chest? Or is this just who I am—a person who’s destined to hate themselves no matter what? I want to believe that things can change, but honestly, I don’t know how to get there.

If you’re reading this and you’ve felt the same way, I wish I had answers for you. I wish I could tell you how to stop feeling this way, but I’m still trying to figure it out myself. All I can say is, you’re not alone. And maybe that’s the first step—just admitting that we’re struggling and trying to find a way forward, even if it’s messy and imperfect.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but for now, I’m just trying to hold on to the hope that it doesn’t have to be like this forever. Maybe there’s a way to break free from this cycle. Maybe one day, I’ll look in the mirror and see someone worth loving. Until then, I’ll keep asking the question, why do I hate myself?—and maybe, just maybe, I’ll find an answer that helps me heal.

I feel pathetic, i feel like I'm going back to that dark and deep black hole where all started, i feel people's judgement and disgusted stares, i feel how my chest hurts so bad, it's like my heart it's being squeezed and it's about to burst but at rhe same time i feel empty, hollow, like something in my chest it's missing, i can't wait all this anymore i just wanna cry myself out until i fall asleep and never wake up....

I've been in a relationship for 3 years and in like the last year, I've had feelings of regret more often. We have pur good moments and bad like normal relationships. But when we fight or have a disagreement and he's upset, for some topics I just can't understand his perspective. I understand being upset that's perfectly okay but it gets dragged out and I end up feeling dead inside. I can't help but think that I wouldn't have to go through this if I was single. But I can't exactly break up with him because he is a good person and he loves me a lot. I just can't shake off the regret feeling. I don't know if I'm overthinking and I should just ignore the feeling or bury it

As a non-drinker, I find myself continually baffled by the allure that alcohol holds for so many individuals, especially when I observe the impact it has had on my wife. It's bewildering to witness her unwavering fondness for this intoxicating liquid that seemingly grips her consciousness and distorts her perception of reality. It's like watching someone willingly choose to engage in something those unaware of see little logic in. Isn't it strange how some people ardently pursue a substance that, upon closer inspection, often results in more harm than good? My wife partakes in alcohol with a fervent passion that borders on obsession; her consumption levels are, without a shadow of a doubt, excessive. The societal norm of relaxing at the end of a tiresome day with a drink in hand doesn't seem to just relax her but rather amplifies her reliance on this habit, creating a vicious cycle that's worrisome for someone who would prefer to be a bystander. Could it possibly be the taste itself that intrigues people, or is it the transient escape from reality that alcohol promises with its consumption? These are questions I've pondered.

Reflecting on countless discussions, or perhaps one-sided pleadings, it seems clear that alcohol holds a multifaceted appeal—one that stimulates the senses while concurrently clouding judgment. My wife insists that her affinity for alcohol is merely a "social lubricant," a phrase often repeated yet confounding in its implication that engaging normally in social undertakings requires chemical aid. Why the constant need to tread the fine line between composure and chaos? It's astonishing to witness its glorification, how individuals believe in its magical ability to conjure merriment and engagement in conviviality. While society lauds drinking culture, shrouded in artful advertisements painting rosy pictures of leisure, the reality is often starkly different, especially when you live with someone who indiscriminately embraces it. As a mere observer, I've seen academic studies and reports cite the dangerous repercussions alcohol can have—not just physically but also psychologically. Despite having access to such empirical evidence, even my earnest attempts to share these findings often culminate in a dismissive chuckle or an affirmation that it’s merely "blowing off steam." But then again, would someone really change a habit based on another's detached understanding? It's clear that more substantive engagement is often required to precipitate true change. Is it ultimately the camaraderie and shared experiences attributed to drinking that bind people so tightly to this substance, or is there something deeper ingrained in human fabric that draws them to it?

To those of you who told me I was overreacting about Trump, go read the EOs, also I got attacked just trying to buy groceries again. Just. Buying. Groceries. On top of that, my state just removed my protections and rights under the Civil Rights Act (intersex and trans- any fellow transfolk reading this, don't forget intersex people. Cis and trans. We're in just as much danger, being targeted just as much, include us in the resistance), so if that attack had resulted in severe bodily injury?

I've been trying to get help for awhile, years for many things not even just related to this (I have a lot going on- some of which I've shared in previous posts. Mainly my first one here), but no one wants to help me. I finally got ONE aid organization to, but they've gone radio silent after this development.

I guess I just need to not be alone, someone to tell me it's okay or to recommend me feasible help in my situation, just "fight or flee" won't help me. I'm disabled, chronically ill, poor and a trauma survivor otherwise. In hiding trying to escape DV that I only managed to get away from at age 22. It was my father, I'm so behind in life, and now I don't even get to live at all it feels like.

Before you're tempted to say I'm overreacting, put yourself in my shoes, then just ignore my post if you still feel like you can say it. Pretend I don't exist, but I also recommend you read the First They Came poem.

I didn't know which tag to use for this, sorry.

I never thought I’d be the guy who had it all together. And to be honest, I still don’t feel like I do. But when I look at my life—my wife, my kids, our home—I know I’m lucky. I have a good job, a healthy family, and a reason to wake up every morning. I remember being younger, picturing what adulthood would look like, and this was it. The stability, the love, the feeling of coming home to people who actually want to see you at the end of the day. Life is good. But at the same time, there’s this nagging thought in the back of my mind that I can’t shake: it can be better.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not unhappy. It’s not like I want to run away from my responsibilities or trade any of this for something else. But sometimes, I feel like I’m just going through the motions. Work, bills, fixing things around the house, making sure the kids have everything they need. Then it’s bedtime, a few hours of quiet, and we do it all over again. And I love my family more than anything, but I miss something I can’t even put into words. Maybe it’s freedom, maybe it’s excitement, maybe it’s just the feeling of being more than just a dad and a husband.

I see other guys chasing their dreams—starting businesses, traveling, picking up new hobbies—and I wonder if I’m supposed to be doing that too. Should I be pushing myself harder? Should I be taking risks instead of playing it safe all the time? There was a time when I had big ideas, when I wanted more than just a comfortable life. But now? I’m not even sure what more looks like anymore. And the weird thing is, I feel guilty for even thinking about it. Like, shouldn’t I just be grateful for what I have? Shouldn’t this be enough?

Maybe part of the problem is that I don’t really take time for myself. I’m always in “dad mode” or “work mode,” and when I do get a second to breathe, I don’t even know what to do with it. I used to love playing guitar, used to spend hours drawing, used to actually read books instead of just scrolling through my phone. But somewhere along the way, those things stopped feeling important. Now, if I do anything that isn’t productive, I feel like I’m wasting time. And there’s always something else that needs to get done.

But I don’t want to wake up one day and realize I let myself disappear. I don’t want to be that guy who only existed for his family and forgot how to be his own person too. My kids are gonna grow up. They’re gonna have their own lives, their own problems, their own dreams. And when that happens, who will I be? Just some guy who works and pays bills? That thought scares me more than I like to admit.

So yeah, life is good, but it can be better. Not because I want more money or a bigger house or some crazy adventure. But because I want to feel alive in my own life, not just present in everyone else’s. I don’t know exactly what that looks like yet, but I know it starts with me. And maybe that’s enough for now.

It’s kind of stupid. I don’t even really know how to say it, or why I feel the need to throw it out here. But here I am.

Today’s my ex’s birthday.
We broke up over two years ago. We were together for four. And still, every damn year, May 16th hits me like a total bitch.

I try to carry on like it’s a normal day, but it’s not. It never is. I close my eyes and she’s *right there*. The memories come rushing back before I can stop them. Not really the good ones, even though there were a few, but mostly the bad. The heavy. The ones that never really let go.

It was the worst relationship of my life. I’m really not exaggerating it. I’m won’t get into the details—this isn’t the place, and honestly, I don’t want to go back there more than I already am. But it was toxic. Emotionally violent. Draining in ways I still don’t have words for.
And yet—part of me is *still* stuck there. Still trapped in a past I hate with every part of me.

I’ve tried to move forward. Tried to rebuild. And on the outside, it looks like I have. I’m stronger now. Sharper. She’s been gone from my life for ages; we don’t talk, we don’t see each other, we live in different worlds.
But today, I can’t fake it. I can’t pretend May 16th doesn’t mean something. That it doesn’t *still* mess me up.

I hate feeling this way. This ugly, twisted mix of pain, nostalgia, and quiet anger I don’t know where to put. It makes no sense. I didn’t ask for it. I don’t want it. I don’t *deserve* it.
But it’s here. So I’m saying it. Because maybe it’ll helps.
Maybe dragging this invisible weight into the light makes it just a little easier to carry.