Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

My husband Alex and I have always been in a slightly better financial position compared to my sister Claire's family. This has somehow resulted in my parents going above and beyond for her, while our family receives considerably less attention. My daughter, Emma, who is 7, typically gets inexpensive toys from local dollar shops during gift-giving occasions, whereas her cousins are treated to elaborate LEGO sets, brand-new iPads, and even vacations to Disney World. If Claire needs someone to watch her kids last-minute, my parents don’t think twice. However, if I ask for similar help, I need to give them a notice of at least two weeks, along with paying them for their time.

This imbalance has genuinely affected the relationship between my daughter and her grandparents. Emma barely recognizes them as her grandparents; she usually thinks only of her dad's parents in that regard. Today, we had a rare family gathering at my parents' house. During the visit, Emma asked if she could play on the trampoline, which unfortunately was off-limits as it was "reserved" for my nephews. Despite her pleads, my father refused her request, leading Emma to storm off in frustration, loudly expressing her preference for her other grandparents. My parents then looked towards me, seemingly expecting me to scold her, but I didn’t.

Later, during a phone conversation, my mother insisted I should have corrected Emma, arguing it was inappropriate for her to express her feelings so bluntly. I responded by pointing out that they've never made much of an effort to prove they don't favor her cousins, which led to a silence before she reiterated that I should control what Emma says to family members before ending the call.

My husband supports me, although he has his reservations about my family. But I’m here seeking a third-party perspective: am I wrong in this situation?

It's rare for us to visit my parents; we only do so on festive occasions or under special circumstances, like today when I needed to retrieve a document left to me in a will. Regarding babysitting, I've asked only twice, during emergencies, and both times they were unable to assist. I have broached the subject of apparent favoritism before, but the response always circles back to the notion that we don't need as much help financially, which they say isn't favoritism.

Imagine if this situation unfolded on a reality TV show. Viewers would likely be up in arms seeing the overt preferential treatment and the cold refusal of a child's simple wish like playing on a trampoline. The stark contrast in treatment between the cousins could potentially spark outrage, and discussions about family dynamics and fairness could dominate social media platforms, enticing audiences to tune in week after week.

bright colours move across my face

a butterfly takes gentle place

wings of pinks, purples and gold

a tiny story gently told

painted wings that flutter light

catching rays of golden bright

every smile becomes a part

of this unique work of art

bubbles rise like floating beads

catching light in glimmering steeds

they drift and dance around my face

mirroring colours with beautiful Grace

each bubble holds a memory so small

reflecting shadows that softly fall

painted wings and spheres gleam

like sunlight shown inside a dream

bubbles drift through velvet air

softly spiralling everywhere

they sparkle in the dim-lit room

like rising sparks that chase the gloom

now years have passed

the day is still

-

but in my mind I feel the thrill

the colourful wings, the bubbles gleam

a solstices light, a passing dream

I tried a dating app awhile ago, I think two months now, and matched with a really sweet girl but it ended poorly to say the least. She told me that she was monogamous and acespec like me, but then tried to polybomb me, basically saying though she could see herself in a relationship with me that I wasn't worth monogamy. I'm still really hurt by that, it was the first time I really tried putting myself out there after a lot of trauma in my life (which she knew about- was one of the few people to not just treat me like crap right off the back for it. I told her more than I have ever told most people, not everything, but a lot) and so now I'm just... Sad.

I feel like I just don't belong anywhere. I'm intersex and transfem, preferring T4T, but my being intersex makes a not small number of the trans community say I "don't count" or "can't be trans" among other things. On top of that, it seems like there are no acespec or monogamous trans people, especially not transfems. I will just call myself queer and sapphic leaning for the sake of this post. It's not a lie, it's not wrong, it's just also not completely correct and doesn't say the whole picture.

My being disabled and chronically ill also makes a lot of potential partners steer clear. I feel like I have no community for FRIENDSHIP let alone romance with all I have going on, plus being stuck in a deep red part of an already red state, I was attacked just trying to buy groceries a few weeks after the election so I'm even more hesitant to even try to go anywhere for anything. I haven't set foot back in that store, settling for buying food at dollar stores as they're the only other thing close to where I live, because I'm so terrified of people hurting me again. I've thought of trying a dating app again, but I'm afraid of being manipulated like before again, and with the state of things I can see dating apps soon becoming dangerous for the lgbtqia2p community in general.

The world just feels so hostile, I have so much going on (see my last entries and just... A lot I won't get into), all I want is someone to cuddle up to and get through the storm with. Someone I can lean on, let them lean on me, be myself with and be loved/accepted wholly. Give them that in return. I don't think I've ever had anyone really do that to/for/with me. Platonic, familial, romantic- nothing. Whole other cans of worms.

I don't know. I guess I just want to say watch out for people who lie about being mono then try to polybomb you, and if any of you who do that sort of thing are reading this, cut it the hell out. It's also not being bigoted towards poly folk to just not want to be poly or date anyone who is poly, quit acting like it is, and telling someone that they're not worth commitment essentially? Disgusting. You're poly, fine and dandy, don't shame people who aren't or try to trick them into it. That's also not be polybashing, either. I'm just, admittedly, very hurt and traumatized further after that experience. In order to explain just why, I'd have to give information that would doxx me however, so I will not.

I also want to say, I wish sex wasn't put on such a high pedestal in love, that there were more people who liked cuddling and emotional connection over intimacy in that way. I wish cis people didn't see me, intersex person, as a broken thing needing fixed- that trans people would recognize I'm part of the community and have no privilege over them. We are both hurt by the same bigotry, the same bigots, I just want community and to belong. I don't want to hurt anyone. I just want to find my forever people, friends and love, make the family I never got to have.

Does anyone have any advice for what I can do in my situation in regards to attempting to date? Or am I a lost cause?

This site has become my way to scream into the void, I guess, I'm sorry I'm so depressing.

I used to date this girl, but we broke up cause she didn't really like me, but we stayed best friends. I've only had one person i've ever had a crush on like me back and that's my current partner. I first got a crush on one of my guy friends, but never told him. Then one day, he told me he had a crush on her and I acted normal about it, but I actually wanted to cry. Then, I knew one of my other guy best friends liked her. but I couldn't help. but catch feelings for him. I feel like I should be angry, but i'm not. I can't help how I feel, but everyone else has told me I should be mad at her, but I'm only mad at myself.

Not especially a workplace drama here but a positive story at work!

Starting out in tech wasn't a walk in the park. Fresh from college at 25, I eagerly stepped into a corporate job, thrilled to be diving into the professional world. Quickly, I realized that being the sole woman—and a Black woman at that—in a sea of white male colleagues was not the most comforting experience. It was subtle things, really: conversations abruptly silencing as I walked by, lunch plans I somehow missed, and meetings where my voice felt like white noise. 🙄 Ever been there?

Initially, doubts clouded my optimism, and I frequently pondered if I was genuinely cut out for this industry. Imposter syndrome hit me hard, whispering, "Do I even belong here?" Each evening, I'd retreat home feeling disheartened and unsure, replaying awkward conversations and uncomfortably forced jokes. However, persistence became my best friend; after all, my parents always taught me to "keep my chin up and never let anyone dim my shine."

Gradually, things took a turn for the better. I found my voice in team meetings, confidently pitching my ideas, which surprisingly (to me, anyway) were not only heard but enthusiastically supported. The "bro culture" slowly melted away, replaced by genuine camaraderie and inclusivity. "We should've listened to you sooner," joked one colleague after my suggestion landed us a key project victory. Ironically satisfying, isn't it? 🤔

Nowadays, my workplace vibe has completely flipped the script. My colleagues aren't just co-workers; they're my friends. Lunchtimes are now filled with inside jokes, coffee breaks feel like mini-therapy sessions, and collaboration is effortless. Honestly, I never imagined I'd reach the point where I'd look forward to Monday mornings. Yes, you read that correctly—Monday mornings! The transformation still baffles me at times.

Reflecting on my journey, I'm grateful for the resilience I've cultivated and the bonds I've formed along the way. Sure, it wasn't easy at first—nothing worthwhile ever is—but these struggles taught me invaluable lessons about perseverance, confidence, and self-worth. To anyone currently feeling alienated or doubtful in their professional journey: hang in there. Change does come, even when it feels impossibly slow. And when it finally arrives, trust me, it feels amazing. 🌟

So I was hanging out of VR-Chat with a few friends in a military sim and we were doing combat as usual. My sister tells me that dinner is ready, but I cant leave because its FUCKING ONLINE, and I don't want to disrespect my friends by leaving suddenly. This little ASSHOLE TURNED OFF MY SURGE PROTECTOR without me knowing, leading to my headset dying out of nowhere. I spent a few moments trying to figure out WHY my headset is dead, and refuses to charge. I plug it back in, pull the entire cord out of the socket, just to figure out that she turned it off. I can't trust my family anymore because of shit like this. This is the FIFTH WEEK that I had to go black-comms (leave) on promotions day, because nobody in my goddamn household wants me to be happy, or have friends, and then they complain that I never go outside. THEY ARE THE ONES MAKING ME TOO GODDAMN NERVOUS TO LEAVE MY FUCKING BEDROOM! I asked her if she turned off my surge protector, and she denied it like the insolent disgrace that she is. My next suspect is my mom because the constantly ignores my privacy and acts like doors mutes every sound ever, and whenever I shot her a text, asking if she did it; she also denies it and says "Im sorry your headset died", as if that is going to magically charge my headset to 100% and replace the dying batteries in it. One of those two did it, because I KNOW my dad cant take his lazy ass upstairs, he's too much of a drunk to do that. I just want to go through ONE FUCKING PROMOTIONS MEETING without having to leave early before the promotions even happen; is that too much for someone to do? Its EVERY. FUCKING. SATURDAY with these people. NO! I don't want to go eat shitty seafood with a deadbeat, a dumbass, and a spoiled brat. NO! I don't want to go swimming in Florida heat with 1K mosquitoes sucking my blood. JUST LET ME PLAY IN PIECE YOU FUCKING ASSHOLES.

(sorry for the amount of cussing, I get heated easily)

(its a fictional language it's not meant to be understood and I don't want feedback. don't reply to this.)

Sín, menskine kenniii. Wērn f mar esferski lexunis overwhelmed ankestor mendun mar esferski menskine enich jealous, sín, menskine kenniii. Wērn n mar esferski enich boziini munix laefter okrúnté, e esferski lukuntämä ketaint, sín menskine kenniii. Makrëp lexunis ter pressure lofe kemá mei lexunisen estômen, sín menskine kenniii. Agutén, mon menskine enich, ankestor mendanki kexądt laefter kennalesek elivia menskine enich jealous

I don't have a personality, its like my whole self is built up on my friends and they hate me for it and tbh I hate myself for it more

I never thought I’d be in this position. You raise your kids, you give them everything you’ve got—your time, your money, your love—and you think one day it’ll all make sense. That maybe they’ll appreciate it, or at the very least, respect you as they get older. But now, at 56 years old, I find myself constantly walking on eggshells around my own children, who are in their 20s and early 30s. They speak to me in ways I wouldn’t have dreamed of speaking to my parents. The tone, the eye-rolls, the sarcasm—it stings more than I care to admit. I try to talk to them like adults, to find common ground, but everything turns into an argument or gets brushed off like I’m some outdated relic who doesn’t get it. They treat me like I’m clueless, like my opinion doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t expect them to agree with me on everything, of course, but there’s a basic level of decency I thought we’d built—and lately, I just don’t feel it.

It’s hard, because I still see the little kids in them. I remember teaching them how to ride a bike, watching movies together, helping with homework. I didn’t always get it right, I’ll admit that. I made mistakes, like any parent. I worked a lot, I was strict at times, I didn’t always know how to express emotions the way they wanted. But everything I did, I did out of love and a desire to see them succeed. And now that they’re grown, it’s like the script has flipped completely. They criticize the way they were raised, throw words like “toxic” and “trauma” around like darts. And it hurts. It hurts more than I can put into words. I don’t get the benefit of the doubt. I don’t get asked how I’m doing. I just get blamed for everything that went wrong, while all the good I tried to do gets forgotten. And the worst part is, I start to question myself. Was I really that bad of a father? Or are they just seeing me through a lens I’ll never be able to clean?

I’ve been trying to find ways to reconnect, to rebuild that mutual respect. But I’ll be honest, I don’t always know where to start. I’ve read the books, tried to open up more, asked for their thoughts even when it’s hard to hear. Sometimes it helps, sometimes it just makes things worse. I try not to react when they get rude, but I’m still human. It’s difficult not to take it personal when your own child rolls their eyes at you or talks to you like you’re stupid. I want to be close to them, but not at the cost of being constantly disrespected. So if you’re asking how to deal with disrespectful adult children, I guess the best I can say is: stay patient, keep the door open, but don’t let yourself be walked on. Set boundaries, as hard as that is when you love them so much. And maybe one day they’ll understand that you weren’t trying to control them—you were just trying your best to love them in the only way you knew how.

At 26 years old, I find myself wandering through a labyrinth of ideologies that pit spirituality against organized religion; it’s as bewildering as trying to navigate a dense fog with no clear path ahead. A few weeks ago, I attended a church service that was supposed to be uplifting—the pastor eloquently spoke about love, grace, and the importance of community. I expected to feel enlightened, but instead, I dragged myself home feeling empty. I remember thinking, “Is this it? Is this what faith is supposed to feel like?” Similarly, on another day, I swayed to the rhythms of a local spiritual gathering that promised enlightenment through meditation and collective energy. People were chanting and holding hands, seeking connections beyond the physical. I wanted to feel that current of cosmic energy flowing through me, but instead, I was plagued by the nagging thought: “What if all of this is just a placebo effect?” It’s frustrating to oscillate between these two worlds—each with its proponents vigorously asserting their narratives while dismissing the other’s merit. A good friend once remarked, “Being religious means believing in something, whereas being spiritual means believing in everything,” which left me more puzzled than ever. Is it possible that these categories are merely constructs that serve to confine the vastness of human experience? Honestly, I don’t know; the ambiguity is suffocating. Just the other night, I sat cross-legged on my bedroom floor, surrounded by a hodgepodge of religious texts and spiritual books, feeling like I was compiling a thesis on a subject I barely understood. I skimmed some passages—Buddha’s teachings on mindfulness contrasted starkly with the heavy doctrines of the Catholic faith; one promised inner peace, the other eternal salvation. It's like choosing between two different types of refuge, both equally enticing yet fundamentally distinct. One may claim, “Follow your personal truth,” but what if your truth is yet to be discovered or, worse, fabricated? ✨

Why is it so difficult to harmonize these beliefs? In the pursuit of clarity, I’ve engaged in endless debates with friends who identify as yogis or fundamentalists; they each argue fiercely for their path, yet here I am, stuck in a perpetual limbo. One afternoon, I found myself in a particularly disconcerting conversation with a devout Muslim woman who discussed the beauty of prayer and community while I could not help but admire her dedication yet felt a pang of longing for the fluidity of spirituality that evades rigid structures. Is a structured belief system inherently restrictive? Or does it provide guidance where spirituality assumes an almost abstract, chaotic essence? I frequently ponder if these traditions are mere vessels of cultural heritage, and how absurd is it that instead of embracing the richness of diverse practices, I find myself shackled in indecision? I often wonder if faith is merely an escapade into the unknown, shrouded in the allure of transcendence but ultimately leading us back to the same existential questions: What is our purpose? What happens when we die?

As I exercise my cognitive faculties to decode the meanings of ‘spirituality’ versus ‘religion,' I can’t shake off the dire feeling that I’m constructing a metaphysical house of cards that could collapse with just the slightest breeze of doubt. “Why do I have to choose when possibly it’s all just an intricate tapestry of beliefs?” I silently scream to the universe, hoping for an answer that never comes. I turn to books, podcasts, and online courses—each touting formulas for a fulfilling spiritual life or an unwavering faith—but do they actually coalesce? Or am I just grasping at straws, hoping for a divine revelation that appears to allude me? I grapple with the paradox that my quest for truth grows heavier with the weight of expectation and self-imposed timelines; I find myself frantically circling back to my fundamental question: Do I desire the grounded morals of religion, or the expansive possibilities of spirituality? Each evening, I lay awake, hoping that someday both worlds can harmonize, creating a holistic framework that resonates with my soul rather than trapping it; Feeling lost has never felt more suffocating. It begs the question: Is anyone else out there wrestling with this dissonance? Does anyone grapple with whether to leap into the arms of tradition or float in the vast ocean of spirituality?

I'm sorry. It was my fault you felt bad. I didn't listen. I didn't think. Last time It went fine and you liked It and didn't felt bad and nothing happened and i felt overconfident. It's my fault and I'm sorry. And honestly? i always thought you were right. I am selfish and horrible and arrogant. I know. But tbh in the case at the very least there was a Little thing that would've spared us both the trouble, It's called Communication. Not that you would know. This morning before i even thought about cooking you said you had to eat something plain and simple for your stomach. When i was about to start cooking YOU SAID you wanted plain pasta and ASKED me to make It. And i did. Even after that I ASKED YOU "ARE YOU GONNA EAT THESE THINGS I'M MAKING TONIGHT OR ARE YOU GONNA EAT PLAIN AGAIN?" and you SAID "No. Do whatever you want. I can't eat them tonight." And i said "ok". ONLY AFTER THAT I PUT SEASONING YOU CAN'T EAT. bc YOU SAID YOU WEREN'T GONNA EAT THEM ANYWAY. I WAS PLANNING TO SHARE THEM WITH YOU, I ASKED YOU SAID NO. end of It. Then you asked if i could make you bread with the dough. I knew for a fact the dough wasn't gonna be enough and i told you. "Probably not cause there's a lot. But I can make other dough if you want." Cause that Is kinda how It works. You want bread? You tell me and i make It for you bc you asked. You can't Just leave hints last minute and expect me to figure It out anyway. I tried to make more Dough for you bread you literally forbid me from doing It cause i was a selfish b. All of that, remembering the fact you asked me for something else (the pasta) and i make It for you cause that what you asked. I asked if you wanted share and you SAID no.

All of that when in normal circumstances i always share with you. When i have adapt recipes i always do. But when i don't share with you bc you SAID specifically NO. I'm the Monster. Ok. Sure. Whatever.

As long as I can remember my parents were big drinkers and were almost always high on drugs. Thi sled them to having a bad tempe. If I were to do something as a kid, they would get pissed off and start throwing thingsand yelling. I remember one night, I believe I was 9 when I was playing with my cup that I finished drinking the water out of. My parents had just came back from the bar, around 3:00 am. They were drunk and I remembered they’re eyes being bloodshot red. I was using my cup to set on my head for fun but it made them mad. They told me to, “shut the hell up, you mistake.” I quote.

Just give me a reason not to overdose on the iron supplements in the cabinet at my house.

So, here’s the deal. I graduated last year, got my degree, did all the “right” things, and landed what was supposed to be a great job. You know, the kind of job everyone says you should feel lucky to have. But here I am, only six months in, and all I can think is, I want to quit my job.

Honestly, I feel like such a failure for even thinking about it. Everyone was so proud of me when I got this position—my parents, my friends, even my professors. It felt like this huge milestone, like i’d finally “made it.” But the reality? It’s so different from what I thought it’d be.

First off, the job itself is... boring. Like, mind-numbingly boring. All day, I’m just sitting at a desk, staring at spreadsheets, answering emails, and pretending to care about these endless meetings where nothing ever gets decided. I thoughtt I’d be doing something meaningful, or at least interesting, but instead, it feels like I’m just going through the motions.

And the worst part? The people. Everyone’s so serious all the time. No one jokes around or seems to actually like being there. It’s like they’ve all accepted this weird, soul-sucking reality, and I’m the only one who’s questioning it. I try to bring some energy, maybe lighten the mood, but it’s like I’m speaking a different language.

Then there’s my boss. Don’t even get me started. They’re not a bad person, but they micromanage everything. It’s like they don’t trust me to do anything on my own, which is ironic because I was hired for my “initiative” and “problem-solving skills.” I thought this job would give me the freedom to learn and grow, but instead, it feels like I’m being babysat 24/7.

I keep telling myself, “Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I need to adjust or give it more time.” But how much time am I supposed to give before I realize it’s not going to get better? My friends keep telling me I’m lucky to even have a job, especially in this economy, but does that mean I just have to suck it up and stay miserable?

What really gets me is how much this job is affecting the rest of my life. I’m constantly stressed, even on weekends. I’m too drained to hang out with friends or do the things I used to love. I’ve even started dreading Monday mornings before Sunday is even over. It’s like this job is stealing all my energy, and I don’t have anything left for myself.

I know quitting isn’t an easy decision. I’ve got bills to pay, and let’s be real, I don’t have some amazing Plan B waiting in the wings. But the idea of staying here for years, or even just one more year, makes me feel so trapped. Like, is this really what my life is supposed to look like now? Because if it is, I’m not sure I’m okay with that.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m being too idealistic. Maybe this is just what “adulting” is—grinding through a job you hate because that’s what responsible people do. But part of me thinks that can’t be true. There has to be more to life than this, right?

If this was a reality show, I wonder what people would say about me. Would they think I’m just some spoiled millennial who doesn’t know how to work hard? Or would they understand where I’m coming from? Because right now, I feel like I’m the only one questioning if this whole system is even worth it.

TW: sexual assault

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