Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

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?

ive always been different. even when i was little i noticed it. i had meltdowns at school and sometimes i would run out of the classroom. everything got too loud and too confusing. kids stayed away from me. some were scared. i got bullied a lot. it made me think something was wrong with me.

i wanted friends. i wanted to be like everyone else. but i didnt know how. it felt like i missed out on learning something everyone else just knew. my parents tried to help. they got me on meds and into therapy. it didnt fix how alone i felt. it just made me feel guilty for being a problem.

growing up i barely had any friends. most of the time i was by myself. even in high school, when it seemed like everyone had groups and plans and people to count on, i had maybe two or three people i could really trust. and even then i was scared. i felt like if they ever knew the real me, they might leave too. and if they did, i would have no one.

im bi but i dont tell people. its not because im ashamed. its because im terrified of losing the little bit of connection i have. i know if i tell the wrong person, i could lose the only friends i trust. and if that happens, thats it. im alone again. completely. and i dont know if i can handle that. id rather hide it and keep something than be honest and lose everything.

the only thing that worked for me was baseball. when i played, i wasnt different. i was just part of a team. ive played since i was a kid. no vacations, no parties, no normal stuff. just baseball.

for a while that was enough.

now i know im probably not going to make it. im not getting drafted. im not going to play pro. and i dont know what to do without it. it was never just a game to me. it was my whole life.

now im studying accounting. im good at numbers, maybe because of my autism. people say its a smart choice. they say it will get me a good job. but i dont like it. its just surviving. working and paying bills and doing it all again the next day. i hate it. i hate that dreams dont matter unless they make money.

i thought about coaching but it doesnt pay enough. so i have to give that up too.

i feel stuck most days. like i missed too much already and now im building a life that wont make me happy. people told me i was going to do great things. and now if im not the best at something, i feel like im nothing.

i dont talk about this much. i dont want to make it anyone elses problem. i dont want to just survive. i want to actually live.

It’s hard to explain to people without sounding dramatic. From the outside, everything probably looks fine. We’ve been married for eight years, we don’t fight often, we keep the house clean, pay our bills on time, and take care of the kids. But behind all that routine is this empty space between us that keeps getting wider. He’s here, but he’s not really here. My husband is emotionally unavailable, and it feels like I’m married to a shadow. When something upsets me, he doesn’t ask questions. He doesn’t comfort. He just nods or says “Sorry you feel that way,” and moves on like I didn’t just open uup my chest and hand him my heart. I’ve learned to stop expecting warmth. I’ve learned to cry quietly in the bathroom so I don’t make him uncomfortable. And that’s the part that breaks me—how me feeling something seems to bother him more than it bothers me.

I didn’t always notice it this deeply. In the beginning, it was just little things—him brushing off serious conversations, or giving one-word answers when I tried to connect. But back then, I thought maybe he just needed time, that maybe it was hard for him to express himself. He had a rough childhood, he never really saw healthy communication growing up, and I gave him grace for that. Maybe too much grace. I thought love would soften him. I thought my patience would eventually make him feel safe enough to open up. But years passed, and I realized I was building a bridge alone, with no one walking toward me on the other side. Every time I tried to talk about our lack of emotional closeness, he’d say, “I don’t know what you want me to do.” As if connection was a task, and not a part of being in love. I’ve begged for something deeper, and all I get is distance in return.

Now I just feel tired. I feel lonely in a house with someone who promised to be my partner. I scroll through my phone, seeing couples who laugh together, cry together, talk—and I feel like I’m watching life happen from a glass window. I envy people who feel seen. I try to bring it up sometimes, gently, hoping something clicks, but it never does. He shuts down, gets quiet, or changes the subject. I’m not asking for grand romantic speeches or poetry—I just want him to notice me. To feel with me. But it’s like there’s a wall I can’t break, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep knocking. I still love him, but I don’t feel loved in return. And I wonder, often, if this is all marriage will ever be—doing life together, but never really together.

I keep replaying the moment in my head—when i told her i wanted a divorce. after twenty years of marriage, saying those words felt like ripping out part of myself, but staying had become a different kind of slow death. she’s not well, her health is fragile, and that’s what makes it all so much harder. i’m not heartless. i still care. but i was living with someone who chipped away at my dignity for years. disrespect doesn’t show up all at once; it creeps in slowly. a condescending remark here, a dismissive gesture there, and before you know it, you’re invisible in your own life. i tried. really. therapy, talks, compromises that only I kept. and when i finally realized that no amount of loyalty would bring back the man i used to be, i chose to leave. but how do you stop the guilt when someone you leave behind is struggling physically? it’s not a movie with a clean ending, it’s more like walking out of a burning house that still has someone you once loved trapped inside. except that person won’t take your hand even when you reach back;

some people tell me, “you did the right thing,” others ask, “how could you leave her now?” and i honestly don’t have a satisfying answer to either. the guilt isn’t just about her condition—it’s about the idea that maybe i should’ve been stronger, more forgiving, more patient. maybe i failed some unspoken moral test. yet at the same time, don’t i have the right to protect myself too? we don’t talk about that enough—how emotional erosion can kill you just as surely as illness. i wasn’t trying to escape responsibility. i was trying to escape becoming a bitter, hollow version of myself. but now, every time someone says her name or i hear that she's been in and out of the doctor’s office again, it hits me like a sucker punch. do i reach out? would that help her—or just help me feel better? is guilt something that fades with time, or something you carry like a scar?

i guess what i really want to ask is—how do you know when you’ve done enough? when does choosing yourself stop feeling like abandonment? i read somewhere that “self-respect is the fruit of discipline,” and i’m trying to believe that choosing to walk away was an act of discipline, not betrayal. but most days, the line is blurry as hell. i keep showing up for work, paying the bills, calling our grown kids, pretending like everything is fine. but underneath, it’s like dragging a bag of wet cement everywhere i go. maybe guilt isn’t something to get rid of. maybe it’s just proof that you still give a damn. but it’d be nice if it didn’t show up every time i sit alone in a quiet room. so yeah—if you’ve ever had to choose between staying loyal and staying alive inside, how did you stop feeling like the villain in your own story?

man, i swear, i cant do this anymore, i feel like im just existing and nothing matters, like no matter what i do, its just the same thing every day, wake up, feel like shit, go to work, pretend im fine, come home, sit in my room overthinking everything, then go to sleep just to do it all over again, like what is even the point, im so tired, like not just sleepy tired but that deep inside tired that dont go away no matter how much i rest, i feel empty, i feel like nobody even notices me, like i could just stop talking and no one would even care, maybe they’d be relieved, maybe im just annoying, maybe im the problem, i try to tell myself its just a bad phase, that ill get over it, but i been saying that for so long now and nothing ever changes, people say "just talk to someone" but what do i even say?? hey, im miserable and i hate my life and i wish everything was different but its not and i have no idea how to fix it?? yeah, sure, that sounds real normal, theyll just tell me to "stay positive" or "it gets better" but how do they know that it gets better when every day just feels worse, i feel like im stuck, like im trapped in this life i dont even wanna live, and i dont see a way out, i see people happy and i wonder how they do it, how they wake up and actually look forward to things, bc for me there is nothing, i dont have friends, i dont have family that cares, i dont have a future that looks anything but miserable, and no matter how much i try to pretend like im okay, im not, and i havent been for a long time, i feel like a failure, like everything i touch falls apart, like no matter how hard i try i always end up back at zero, people say im young and i have time, but what does that even mean?? time for what, more of this, more feeling like i dont belong, more pretending like im fine when im screaming inside, im so exhausted, and i just want it to stop, i dont even know what that means anymore, all i know is i cant take it anymore, i keep thinking maybe something will change, maybe ill wake up one day and things will feel different, but they never do, and im scared they never will, bc honestly, i dont know how much longer i can keep doing this, its like my body keeps going but my mind checked out a long time ago, nothing makes me happy, nothing excites me, i see people making plans for their future and i dont even know if i want a future, bc what if its just more of this, more feeling alone, more failure, more emptiness, i try to distract myself, i try to push it down, but it always comes back, the feeling that im not meant to be here, that maybe i was never supposed to be here, that maybe im just wasting space, and i know, i know, people say "you matter" but do i really?? bc it dont feel like it, and i just dont know what to do anymore.

ok, I'm really pissed at my band teacher right now. Today, she asked the flutes (that's what I play) to play together just us right as I was yawning, so I didn't end up playing because I was busy yawning. She said something along the lines of: "Ok, I'm about to cut you about of the performance. You are never ready, and it's usually you missing the most notes." AND SHE SAID THIS TO ME. Me, who never misses a note. Like, no way she said I'M the one who's never ready when there's those two girls next to me who don't put their flutes up until the last second. She just blamed all their bad notes and unreadiness on ME. I've been a scapegoat my whole life, band was my only safe place where I knew I was good as everyone else, maybe better, and everyone took the blame for their own shit. It was the one place where I didn't have to have a million fingers pointing at me. Not anymore I guess.

Aight, so I got this problem and idk what to do. Valentine’s Day is like next week, and there’s this girl I really like… but I have NO CLUE how to ask her to be my valentine. Like, do I just text her straight up? Try to be funny? Make it casual?? Bro, I feel like an idiot even stressing over this but I don’t wanna mess it up.

I’ve been talking to her for a while now, and we text almost every day. Nothing too crazy, just memes, random convos, and stuff about school. She always replies fast tho, which I think is a good sign?? Or maybe she’s just nice lol idk. Either way, I actually like her and wanna make a move before some other dude asks her first.

The problem is, I’m trash at this kinda thing. Like, I overthink everything. If I just text, “Hey, wanna be my valentine?” is that too lame? Or what if she thinks I’m joking?? I thought about sending some kinda flirty text like, “So, what’s your Valentine’s Day plans? Cuz I heard this guy (me) is available 😉” but then I feel like I’d cringe myself into another dimension if she doesn’t respond how I hope.

Then there’s the classic “What if she says no?” I mean, yeah, rejection happens, whatever. But having to see her at school after that? BRUH. That would be painful. What if she shows the text to her friends and they all laugh at me?? Lowkey wanna just avoid this whole thing but at the same time, I don’t wanna regret not shooting my shot.

Maybe I should just go all in and send something dramatic like:

“Roses are red, violets are blue, I suck at flirting, but will you be my boo?”

LMAO nah, that’s too much. She’d prob think I’m messing around.

Or should I just keep it simple? Like:

“Hey, so I was wondering… would you wanna be my valentine?”

No emojis, nothing. Just straight to the point. But what if that’s too boring?? Man, this is why texting is so stressful. You can’t tell if someone’s actually excited or if they’re just being nice.

Also, when do I even send it?? If I do it too early, she might think I’m desperate. Too late, and she might already have plans. I feel like there’s some secret Valentine’s Day rulebook I never got.

Honestly, if this was a reality show, I wonder what people would think of me right now. Would they be yelling at the screen like, “JUST TEXT HER ALREADY!!” or would they be roasting me for overthinking so hard?? Probably both tbh.

But yeah, if anyone has advice, lemme know. Cuz right now, I’m just staring at my phone like an idiot, tryna figure out how to ask a girl to be my valentine over text without looking like a total clown. Wish me luck... 😥

I feel like I don't want people's pity or their complaints anymore—I don't know if a previous post of mine is online—I don't want her. I don't want any more rescues. This is what my mother was getting at. That woman only lived to point out what was wrong with me, going to extremes for God's sake, and supported by others. All her life, that woman has lived to pressure and thus intervene with me. What's the point of having someone as a slave? That's why she had her mother and me. Until when? It bothers me because I feel like I can't say bad things here, otherwise, I feel like I'd be breaking the rules.

I hate my mother. I never want to see her again. Since my treatment, she's turned out to be the person I hate the most, even more than my aunt. Manipulative, cynical, and also someone who deceives people by using people who don't share what she claims. That's what deception is all about. My mother is a criminal, a person who simply thrives on adventure, doing things her way, and she likes it. How can anyone practice that? How can anyone like such practices? Has my mother lost her mind, for God's sake? How could my mother go to such extremes? God forbid. This is too much. I can't be with someone like that, nor should anyone. What's that? On top of that, using my grandmother to get me to come to her house, luring me in through pity. Damn, what kind of mentality is that, for God's sake? My mother needs a psychologist or to be locked up in a mental hospital immediately, or I'd even include being behind bars. I can't believe these attitudes I picked up from my mother, even though I'm aware of this. How could she like my mother? How can my grandmother support that? Have they lost their minds?

My mother was even willing to go to the university to see if I had earned my degree, when that's a matter for me, for my adulthood. It can't be that the university gave her information about this. I can't believe my mom went to elaborate or make my situation worse regarding this issue. What happened to the degree wasn't her problem. My mom even said I should do it for her happiness, for God's sake. How could that woman have believed I would act for her happiness? In the places where I received care for my treatment, they took away my degree. I'm going to have to burn it to avoid any further trouble. It can't be that people wanted to mess with my degree. Besides, they're thinking about my future when I've been separated from them for a long time. My life isn't their problem, and I've proven it on several occasions. It can't be that my mom didn't understand that, as well as other family members. And at this point! I waited until they were more vulnerable to make a bigger suggestion! What mental misery, for God's sake! I can't believe this; this is damn abuse. I can't believe this happened to me; frankly, I can't believe it. I feel extremely confused. It's definitive that I can't have anything with this family; if I do anything, they'll want to say it's theirs. They'll make excuses. I can't continue wasting my time with them. This attitude is too much.

My mother asking crazy questions, inquiring about my life, just like my aunt did when I never wanted to share my life with them. I mean, this is an abuse of their authority as housewives. This is shocking. I'm never dealing with any of them again, under any circumstances. They pushed me to the limit. It can't be that my own family pushed me to the limit. My mom leaves me alone at university, everywhere, even though I tell her things to her face. How many times has that woman tried to make me look bad on the street because of my treatment? That woman made a living by making me angry, for God's sake. My aunt was worse; she only made a living by pressuring me more and more, just like her. I can never go back to these relatives. Living with them is a failure, it's impossible. It's not even stable when I'm not there, where everyone imposes themselves on her or the other way around. I don't know how my father could have thought of living with her, just when I was feeling bad. I find it hard to believe my father didn't really want to kill me, when this was the case and he'd known it for a long time.

Why did my father send me to live with two crazy women? Maybe whatever was wrong with me wouldn't kill me, but putting up with them would have killed me. I mean, frankly, they were unbearable. No human being can live with such miserable people. I personally am grateful for having maintained zero distance from them at all costs. If they thought there would be any gratitude from me, they were wrong. In fact, it was a way for both of us to gradually escape, to run away from there at all costs. I preferred to go home to be alone, despite all the consequences there had been and would be. That treatment was so unnecessary, I mean, it was the worst because it made me need company and my life is made for that I'm alone; that joke didn't take me seriously, it was as if life couldn't conspire with the system, and that's why I feel so excluded from it.

I feel so furious about what happened. So angry. I'm about to break everything that's ever been and ever will be. It can't be that I had to live through that. It can't be that it happened to me. I feel so angry. And on top of that, those women, my mom and my aunt, trying to see me again. How nauseating. I mean, they have no shame. After all the mess they made, even my aunt pressured me to stay at her house! They have no shame. They want me to act like nothing's happening to put up with them, and no, definitely not. I'd rather they put them through the worst possible time, but I'm not going to risk it for them. As expected, sooner or later the storm hit. It didn't happen at first, but then it finally hit. How eager they were to think that I wouldn't react, that I wouldn't do anything. How careless, for God's sake. I've always been one of those people who flaunts the truth, with prudence, but when they want to escape, what choice do I have? I have no choice but to act this way, under pressure from that same way of acting. I feel like these women are looking for some kind of companion in life, something like that, but I'm not there for them, and they do everything they can—coerce, play group games, etc.—to make it happen. I say it categorically: I would never share my life with them. And then come and impose this on me? In effect, they saw me as a toy, a little bag to be molded. That's a miserable mentality, for God's sake!

The past few days It's been a bit harder to follow through with my habits and i haven't made much progress. And i felt stupid for messing everything up again. The past 2 days i've been trying to get back on track a bit. ( I've been Trying my best not to doomscroll and replacing with sketching + trying to reach my step count)

But not really sure If i'm getting anywhere with that. The first month of summer Is over and i'm not sure If i made any real progress. Or if maybe i'm doing well enough. Or fast enough. Or i'm doing the wrong things. Or Maybe i'm not even worth trying to fix stuff to begin with. I kept having dumb arguements with her the past few days one after the other. Honestly i feel like she does It on purpose sometimes. And i tried to ignore It, i try to make my day better and cheer myself up and be positive but i think she's right. I am selfish. I am stupid. And It's true that I can't really care about anything. I ruin and waste everything every single time no matter how much i try and want to treasure It. She's right. I'm just like him and i'm a bad person. There's really no point in trying to change anything if i'm evil to begin with.

There are times where I get a thought and it makes my anxiety go up to like 50% more than usual. I don’t know why this happens and it drives me insane so I try not to think about it, but it keeps coming back and I don’t know what to do when this happens. I don’t know what triggers it either. It just happens. It does go away in day or two, but when it starts, it makes my heart raise up and my mental health goes to a different place. I have good strategies but there are times when I’m at work or doing something social that it comes again I don’t know the trigger, but I am working on it. if anyone has any advice when this happens to me or tell me their story, please let me know. Thank you.

A couple of years ago, a girl from the US came to my town in Europe over the summer to maintain her double citizenship to my country. I met her through our sport as she trained at my club during that summer to stay fit. She's a couple of years older than me, but we became quite good friends, and even after she went home to the US we stayed in touch and dreamed of visiting each other again - mostly of me visiting her in the US.

Anyways, she has now been doing her sport at a college in the US, and has sent me a kind of open invitation to come visit her and follow her busy student-athlete lifestyle for a week. I have a school holiday coming up in about a month and I've promised her to come visit for a week then. I can stay with her in her dorm and eat in her dining hall, so I would "only" have to pay for the plane tickets, but even that is a big expense for me.

Tickets to and from the US would cost me something like 1/6th of my savings (but they aren't that big, so maybe that sounds worse than it is), and even though I have access to a dining hall etc. I'll still have to buy some food and such when I'm there. My dad might pay for half of the ticket, but it would still be a very expensive trip, and even though I've already promised my US friend that I'll come, I can't quite get over how expensive it'll be for me.

I'm annoyed and frustrated over this specific situation, but it's not so much this one that bugs me as it is my family's finances in general. We (my mother, sister and I #divorcedparents) are constantly broke, and I honestly don't always get why or how it happens. My mom makes enough money that we should be doing fine in day-to-day life, including when somebody needs a new pair of shoes or whatever once a year, but every time we have to make a "bigger" purchase (e.g. a pair of shoes, a big grocery haul) she grimaces and is clearly uncomfortable with the amount of money we're spending. I barely speak to my dad because I can't do so without him trauma dumping and venting about exclusively his own problems to me, but I know he's at least as broke as my mom/us so even though he's promised to pay half of my ticket, I don't trust that he will or that it will be within the foreseeable future.

I know I can't really get mad at my parents for being somewhat poor, especially when I know my mom is ashamed of it when she has to borrow money from my sister and me or when she can't buy us everything we want. I feel like I can actually be angry at my dad because the main reason he's poor is because he's a lazy piece of shit and never has a job for more than 6 months at a time because then it "gets too boring" for him. I'm just tired of always being more broke than my friends and never knowing how it is we're wasting our money, and I can never go on a shopping spree or something like this trip that's coming up because I feel so guilty for spending money.

I've also thought of getting a job so I can start making my own money, but I don't know how I would ever find the time to it. I go to high school and train 1-2 times everyday except for sunday which is my designated homework day, so I genuinely don't have the time to also have a job. I'm literally spending some of my homework time on writing this, but I'm just so frustrated right now and I don't have anyone to vent to in real life.

so I'm in a trio with 2 of my close friends

most people say it wont work but for like a year its been working quiet well untill tga went on holidays and came back

because me and Barney have gotten closer and are now a duo and we are kinda leaving her out

but its going into winter and we wnat to go indoors where as she wants to stay outdoors at lunches so we go inside with out her so idk I feel like I'm gonna lose them both cause Barney is talking about moving schools so idk relay anymore

I also believe I don't deserve them and are a bad friend even tho both of them say how gold I am but I feel like idk its just like I don't belong

hey, so I wanted to share something that's been keeping me up at night; it's about these dreams I’ve been having, all stemming from that carjacking I somehow survived. it's not the typical nightmares people talk about; these are vivid, relentless, and they cling to me long after I've woken up. you know how they say dreams are manifestations of our subconscious processing trauma? well, mine are like a non-stop highlight reel of that day’s terrifying events, played on a loop, with every punch, kick, and tug echoing in excruciating detail. imagine being trapped in a film you can’t pause, one where you're not in control, every scene as clear and vibrant as reality, and you're forced to relive it each night! it all started right after the incident; occasionally, the setting changes, but the core theme remains the same. is it normal to feel the physical impact of dream events upon waking? my psyche seems to be stuck in a feedback loop, desperately trying to make sense of the chaos; the slightest sound jolts me awake, my heart pounding as if the entire attack were happening all over again.

sometimes I ask myself, why does my mind replicate such suffering rather than letting it fade into obscurity? it's like my brain has switched to disaster mode! I read somewhere that this is my amygdala going into hyperdrive, but knowing that doesn’t exacty bring comfort when the flashbacks hit harder than a sledgehammer to the chest… and here's the thing, everything is intensified in those moments; street lights turn glaring and blinding, voices around me warp and distort as if trying to mock me, taunting me with fragments of past conversations that twist and churn my anxiety like a blender on high speed; emotional regulation goes out the window, and the normalcy I crave remains tantalizingly out of reach! funny, isn't it, how during daylight I can rationalize and compartmentalize, but as soon as the lights go out, I'm triggered by any sound or shift? have you ever felt your mind betray you like that, caught in a battle it keeps losing nightly? it's a solitary fight, when the darkness turns friend to foe, and I find myself awake, heart racing, trying to shake off the lingering adrenaline. seriously, what’s with the hypervigilance? am I forever destined to navigate the world whilst walking on eggshells, second-guessing even the neighbor’s dog barking?”

no, I haven’t tried group therapy yet; honestly, the idea of reliving the trauma in front of others doesn't sit well with me, not when even privately, the memory looms larger than life! yet something's got to give, right? because even the smallest things might set off a chain reaction leading me straight back to those horrific moments. but understanding and dissecting it cognitively is only half the battle! have you ever tried to catalogue experiences only to have your mind slip into overdrive trying to make sense of it all? because that’s precisely what I've been tackling. even sleeping pills feel like cheats, granting oblivion but never resolution, a band-aid on a gaping wound; the experts talk about reconsolidation therapy, exposure therapy, but where do you even start when every night's a battlefield?! you have to wonder if resolving such deep-seated trauma requires accepting that vulnerability first; dialing down the hyperarousal one step at a time; retraining a mind that's gone rogue and wild in survival mode.

there's something fundamentally unsettling about being unable to trust your own mind and the manner in which it processes past terror… the dichotomy's stark: a life of logical intelligence clashing against primal instinct! so, where's the balance, and is resolution even possible when you're eternally questioning if your defenses will crumble again under pressure? at the end of the day, the essence of these dreams feels not just like a punishment, but a reminder bestowed against my will, and confronting that without letting it drown me remains the hardest endeavor. so if you have any suggestions, maybe you've been through similar? I’d genuinely be open to hearing how others tackle such pervasive, all-consuming tension that manages to infiltrate the most sacred space of rest! just want a semblance of tranquility where each night doesn't have to mean revisiting hell, and isn’t that something we all deserve?

this feels so heavy to write out but for once I wanna feel free. I regret having a boyfriend i regret going to his place I regret that we saw each other naked. im grateful for myself that I never gave my v card but I regret everything that happened. that is not me that is not my life I don't enjoy doing sexual things but I did just to keep him thinking he was the one ( first bf). the worst thing is when I remember my mom calling to ask if I arrived safely to my friend's house when in fact I was at his. that was so so so bad of me. I despise him for trying so hard but I despise myself even more.. I pray I pay back every bad thing I did with him.. one thing I know is that I will never do that again.. no point in lustful 2 min time. a perfect relationship for me would be a nice tall boyfriend whom I could go on fun little side quest with someone who I can vent to and someone that will love me wholeheartedly without any bad intentions.... sigh

may every good thing forgive me for these times as I am to ashamed to ask to God for forgiveness.

I've been in a loving relationship with my boyfriend, Alex, for two years now. Just last week, he made the romantic gesture of proposing to me, which of course, I joyfully accepted. Following this happy event, I met up with my girlfriends for a weekend brunch to celebrate and discuss everything about the engagement and upcoming wedding plans. Many of them are already married and were eager to share their experiences and advice.

As we were enjoying our meal, one of my good friends, Megan (F33), noted the necklace I was wearing. It was a special gift from Alex, engraved with what would be my future initials after we get married, combining my first name and his last name. I've always been excited about taking his last name, and this necklace was his way of symbolizing our future together.

However, Megan's reaction was far from what I expected. Upon learning that Alex had gifted the necklace, she launched into a critique, accusing him of maintaining "antiqued" cultural views, and labeled him as controlling and possessive. I tried to clarify that it was my choice to take his last name and that the necklace was a symbol of our commitment, not ownership. But Megan wasn't having any of it and described my cherished gift as a "dog collar," implying Alex was treating me as property, which she deemed misogynistic.

Frustrated by her harsh words, I retorted sharply, "Well, you should be glad because nobody will ever claim you in such a patriarchal way." Tears welled up in Megan's eyes and she hurried out of the brunch. While most of my friends supported me, mentioning that Megan was out of line, a couple of them later suggested I should apologize, especially since topics related to marriage are particularly sensitive for Megan as she's the oldest and still single—a fact that has visibly upset her at other weddings.

Honestly, I didn’t mean to hurt her, but was it wrong to defend my relationship and the symbols we choose to represent it?

Imagine if this scene played out on a reality TV show. The cameras would zoom in on everyone's expressions, capturing the shock, the confrontation, and ultimately, the tears. Viewers would likely be split. Some would applaud standing up against harsh judgment, while others might criticize the choice of words, calling for more sensitivity. Social media would buzz with opinions and polls, perhaps even igniting broader discussions about cultural expectations and individual choices in relationships.

Was my response to Megan over the top?