Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

I never thought I would find myself in this position at 23 years old, sitting in my small apartment, staring blankly at the wall after you walked away without looking back. I mean, we had been together for two and a half years—long enough to have shared countless memories, late-night talks, and dreams about our future. Yet, for some reason, it all unraveled overnight, and it feels surreal that the person I trusted the most decided to end it so abruptly. You said you wanted more space, that you were feeling suffocated instead of supported in our relationship. It felt like a punch to the gut, hearing, “I just think we’ve grown apart,” after we had always talked about how we were each other’s missing puzzle pieces.

Honestly, I can't help but wonder where everything went wrong, or if I failed to see the warning signs along the way. I mean, could it have been my obsession with work, the countless late nights spent at the office, the endless striving to climb the corporate ladder? I understand the strain that can put on a relationship, but I thought we had built a solid foundation—one where we could openly communicate about our needs. Was I too wrapped up in my own ambitions to notice your discomfort? And it nags at me because I know how hard it is to balance personal goals with a partnership. Yet, here we are, and I'm left questioning everything. Did any of it mean anything to you? Did you not feel the emotional connection we always talked about? I can't shake this feeling of doubt that hangs around me like a heavy fog. To be frank, breaking up stings worse than any rejection I've faced in the past. The silence is deafening, and I can still hear your last words echoing in my mind, “Maybe in another life.” Well, I’m now left pondering if that “other life” even exists.

Hello everyone!

I'm gearing up for a wedding soon which will be attended mostly by my boyfriend’s circle of friends. My mom, having always been a stunner and a former model, offered to help me get ready for the big day.

Let me give you some background: my mom is absolutely breathtaking and has always been in fantastic shape. Both my brothers inherited her good looks, making them quite the dashing pair. Being the sole daughter, I guess there was an expectation for me to follow in her gorgeous footsteps.

Growing up, I steered clear of anything overtly girly and was squarely the tomboy type. Post-puberty, I put on weight, and though I wouldn't consider myself obese, I'm definitely on the plumper side – 78kg at 166cm. I don't obsess over skin care or makeup either; it's just not my thing.

Though I profoundly love my mom and I know the feeling is mutual, she hasn't always been the most supportive when it comes to comments about my appearance. Throughout my teenage years, her remarks about my weight and looks really did a number on my confidence. I can handle constructive feedback but not when there's an undercurrent of scorn or cruelty.

Things have gotten a bit better over the years. I confronted her once about how her words were affecting me, and she toned it down somewhat. However, she still slips up now and then, commenting on a pimple or mocking my hair, even suggesting quite bluntly how I might 'improve' my appearance. Sometimes it’s too much, even for me.

Cut to the current issue: my mom had a series of dresses for me to try for the wedding, and one of them was a gown she wore two years back at my graduation. It was a snug fit, to say the least. My mom and my aunt pushed and pulled to zip it up, but no luck - the zipper gave out. My mom couldn't help but exclaim, “Wow, you really are fat,” which set my aunt off on a teasing spree. I held back my feelings and stayed silent.

We sifted through more dresses and I finally picked one that was stretchy and fitted just right. Post the try-on session, my mom, in her typical fashion, asked if I had been skipping the gym and warned that I'd need to keep my stomach in during the wedding. That was the last straw for me. I decided I’d had enough and told her I would buy my own dress instead.

Now, mom feels I overreacted and I’m just wasting money on a whim. My siblings accuse me of being oversensitive about my weight, whereas my friends and boyfriend support my stance. Am I really being unreasonable here?

I wonder how this situation would unfold if it were on a reality TV show. Would the audience sympathize with me, or would they find humor in my family’s blunt commentary? Reality shows thrive on drama, after all. Could it be possible that viewers might side with me in seeking respect and emotional support from a family that puts appearance above feelings?

I'm feeling undermined by my family's comments about my weight. Am I overreacting?

does anyone else get that thing when someone hurts you, or does something bad and you get really angry. and you want to hate them, but you know the things they struggle with, and their life story and how much of a good person they are so you cant just hate them?? like why cant you just be a horrendous person so I can hate you for what you did?? instead of feeling guilty for being angry at you. its not fair.

i had a therapist for 5 years who last year was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. initially they said it was really abnormal and slow growing and they were confident they could perform a whipple and chemo and hed be saved. 2 months later post whipple the cancer had spread to his liver and he was diagnosed terminal.

all of this was devastating of course, im familiar with his family, something we bonded over was our children and how similar we were as parents and the way we cared about people. watching him be torn away from his 2 young girls is so awful and i feel so deeply for his partner.

2 weeks ago i had sent a regrettable message raising the awkwardness of the time we met because i was completely emotional and i didnt want him to think i was falling apart without him, because despite devastation 5 years of therapy gave me some great tools to accept emotions as they come no matter how large or overwhelming.

this message was something that stressed him out and his partner then stepped in and said she would be a communication bridge. happy for that i obliged only asking once to apologise realising the mistake id made. she had told me as he deteriorated i would be invited to say goodbye, and in the interim she would reassess whether me and said therapist could reestablish contact. given that now that i could recognise that i asked her whether it would be okay to message him some more, she said no as he was in hospital and i replied that was okay but i was more meaning in general as this is not how i wanted to remember him. i was happy to leave is as he was recovering and needed rest. i made a comment in reference to her recognising how hard it must be not having contact by saying yeah i dont know any other relationship where not only am i not allowed to visit but not even talk to someone whos dying. somewhere in the message sent she replied saying that the relationship was to be terminated as the ethical boundaries are clear in that once he stopped being my therapist our relationship ended. she stated they had tried to be accomodating of my needs but how i wasnt able to be appropriately boundaried and that i am no longer ever be able to contact my therapist again.

not only had she said about a reassessment of boundaries but my therapist the last time i saw him told me that was likely not going to be the last time i saw him, she has also stated about me seeing him when he was close to the end for closure. the level of betrayal here is massive. i feel lied to, disrespected and above all else heartbroken i may never get to say goodbye to my therapist. he hasnt contacted me either.

it not just this that infuriates me. for the last 5 years i have been in almost a constant communication with my therapist. i was lucky enough to message him day to day to establish rapport and safety and a sense of trust i do not hold in alot of people from childhood as most adults did not care to care. as an adult now with my own kids i struggle to see how anyone could treat their kids that way and still struggle with closeness with other adults as i constantly think theyre going to leave.. ironic.

i have had multiple letters from my therapist every time he went away to bridge any abandonment feelings as most times he had holidays it was around key events of trauma. he has continuously told me i am worthwhile, how much he cares about me, offered hugs (sensory regulation) and sessions like walks in the local park to ease the feelings that came up with being in rooms.

ethics dont begin to cover the gray areas he stretched to help me heal and throughout this by no means have i felt like he did anything wrong as i truly felt a sense of safety and ease and like i could manage without him because he believed in me.

that was up until his partner messaged me. we are 2 months after his terminal diagnosis, and after research the 2 year wait of ethics is technically in a gray area because he is dying. its a bit late to pull the ethics card.

now i know likely all of her message is because she is struggling to let go too of her partner, as would i be. i hold such a great compassion for her situation right now and of think about her very fondly.

this however has been handled so poorly. there have been constant moving expectations, and boundaries and i feel as though over the years i have put up with many instances where maybe as a client i shouldnt have had to. (a medical proffesional telling me once that its completely innapropriate the expectations that have been out on me.) all because i pushed to have it mimic a real relationship so i could learn how to navigate.

i have cried so much these past few months and before the terminal diagnosis was considering leaving therapy as i felt hugely capable without him.

this is such an abrupt was to end this half decade of my life trusting this man who in his dying days seems not to give a shit. or is maybe just running with his partners mistake in support. im not sure. but this is so devastating to have it end like this. its such an awful memory of him and now a shame because everywhere reminds me of him because of his involvement in my life. im sure later on this will be lovely but right now its painful. there was no goodbye.

its crazy to me because there was one time we had a fight because i said i cared more about him and he was going to reply, later told me,that i didnt know that so i couldnt say that to him.

this whole thing is fucked i know. but not even a goodbye after 5 years. like that is so shit. just so sad. its all so unfair.

Is it really worth trying to make your parents proud? I'm sick of busting my butt for the best grades and still being invisible at home. It's like I don't even exist. Meanwhile, my brother flunks school but can kick a ball and they won't stop talking about him. I've read somewhere that all kids want is their parents' approval and all parents want is for their kids to be happy, but it feels like a joke here. Maybe it's just me, but shouldn't effort in studies count for something?

Anyway, doing well academically doesn't seem to matter if you're not scoring goals or whatever. Come on, anyone else feel like they're living in the shadow of a sibling who just has 'different' talents? In my house, it's all about sports highlights... thrilling stuff when I try to explain an A+ in physics and get told to keep it down because there's a match on TV. Makes you wonder: What do you have to do for someone to say 'Well done!'? Makes you doubt things sometimes.

My mother used to reside close to my brother, embracing solitude especially after our father passed away. Her desire was simple: to spend more time over dinner with my brother and his family. Sadly, his wife, Emily, wasn't too fond of this idea, and they settled on monthly visits.

As time passed, my mother began experiencing health issues, sending frantic messages and making numerous unscheduled doctor visits. During this period, Emily posted online, suggesting that my mother was merely seeking attention and feigning illness to drive a wedge between her and my brother. Consequently, my brother distanced himself from our mother, influenced by the storm of accusations.

Observing these changes prompted me to visit my mother, as I live in a different state. It didn't take long to notice that something was seriously wrong. After a quick doctor’s visit, we received a heartbreaking diagnosis: dementia. I relayed the news to my family and took on the role of her primary caregiver. Despite this, Emily continued to insist on social media that my mother was pretending, with my brother supporting her claims unwaveringly.

As my mother's condition worsened, I pleaded with my brother to visit her before she passed away. Regrettably, he failed to show up even for the cremation. Now, here's where it gets even more heated: after her death, my brother and Emily had the audacity to ask for some of her ashes. I was appalled and bluntly refused, given his lack of concern in her final days. This led to a heated exchange, and I ultimately demanded that he and his wife leave immediately.

He has since been branding me as insensitive and demands an apology, leaving our family divided. Some side with me, expressing outright disdain for Emily and my brother’s actions, while others feel I should relent, reminding me that he is still her son.

Imagine if this saga unfolded on a reality show. The cameras would capture every tense moment, turning private grief into public spectacle. How would viewers react to the raw display of family conflict, overshadowed by the glaring insensitivity towards a mother's illness? This could potentially shift public opinion, rallying support for some while casting harsh judgment on others.

And you, what would you do in my situation?

yet im not sad. Not anymore. I go out and eat do shit on my own. I have social circles, people i talk to, but i get this feeling that at the end of the day my path is the one that strays. If my path comes across with yours, so be it, but im not banking on having anyone on this path with me. Sad? Sometimes. Tragic? Depends. Liberating? Depends on you past experience. Am i enjoying it? Sure, but at this point idk if its cause im used to the crippling loneliness or if i have truly changed for the better.

And i actively defend this lifestyle from people. I be going out at 2 am gettin burgers on my own, and i tell people i be hanging out with people. Whats with the lie? I suppose... i no longer have hope that people will understand.

Ironically, im putting this out there just to be seen.

I am 52, a woman, and I have been married for 25 years. Saying that out loud still feels heavy. We met young, built a life, raised kids, paid mortgages, argued about paint colors. Lately it feels like we are roommates with shared history. I remember once, early on, he brought me coffee every morning without fail. Now we text from different rooms. That sounds dramatic but it is true. I am polite to him, he is polite to me. There is no yelling. There is also no warmth. People say “marriage takes work” and i believed that. I still do. But what if the work changes you into someone quiet and tired. I wonder if this is normal or if we missed a turn years ago and never noticed.

We have issues, lots of them, but none that feel explosive. We disagree on money, intimacy, and how to talk when we are hurt. He shuts down. I talk too much. He says I nag. I say he disappears. Once, after a long silence, he told me “I just don’t know what you want from me anymore.” That stuck. I don’t fully know either. After 25 years you expect some shared language. Instead we misinterpret everything. I once suggested couples counselling and he shrugged and said “if you think it helps.” That was not a no, but it wasn’t a yes. Friends quote stats like “therapy works if both try,” or “most couples wait too long.” Are we too late already.

I keep thinking about a small moment last year. We were at a grocery store, choosing apples. He reached for the ones i like without thinking. It surprised me. For a second, it felt easy again. Then we argued in the car about nothing important. That is how it goes. Good moments get buried fast. I have my own faults, i know that. I can be sharp. I hold grudges. I replay old arguments when I should let them go. Part of me worries counselling will just list our failures in a calm office with tissues on the table. Another part hopes a third voice could help translate us. As one book said, “under every complaint is a longing.” I am not sure what his longing is anymore, or mine 🤷‍♀️

Divorce feels like a word that floats in the room even when we don’t say it. It feels final and also tempting, which scares me. I think about starting over at 52, and I feel tired before I even begin. But I also think about staying and slowly shrinking. Is couples counselling a real option after so long, or just a pause before the end. I am trying to be fair to both of us. He is not a bad man. I am not a perfect wife. We are just worn. If you have been here, did talking to someone help you reconnect, or did it only confirm what you already knew. How do you tell the difference between a rough chapter and the last page.

i wanna start this by saying i don't do drugs or anything, never even smoked a cigarrete or drinked like heavy you know, so this not about that lol 😂 but still… why do i feel high when i’m not?? like my head sometimes go so foggy, and lights feel brighter and sounds feel louder and everything be moving slow?? it happen in school mostly or when i walk outside and there’s like too much stuff going on. like today we was in math and miss started talking 'bout logarithms and ratios and boom i couldn’t even look at the board. my brain was like floating??? 😵 i blinked a lot and rub my eyes but that don’t help nothing. is this what derealization is or something? like, i don’t know if it’s that cause i ain’t got no trauma or nothing major like that. i’m just a normal dude with too much thoughts maybe. like i be overthinking all the time, even when nothing’s wrong. could that be it? could overthinking make your brain feel fried like that? sometimes i just feel like i’m watching my life, like watching a movie, not really living it. it’s weird. it’s not scary all the time but sometimes it is... when i can’t snap out of it and my heart start racing and i feel like the room’s spinning. but i’m sitting down!! 😭 and my friends think i’m zoning out or daydreaming or something but nah it’s not that easy to explain. it’s like i’m there but not really there. hard to write it out but that’s the best i got;

i was in the bus the other day and the sun was hitting just right through the window and my music was loud in my headphones and everything felt unreal. like i was on something for real. i looked at people walking and it was like they was in slow motion or something. i even smiled for no reason, like i was calm but confused. and then later when i got home i had a headache and had to sleep for two hours just to feel normal again. 😴 it’s starting to happen more often now. last year it happened like once every two weeks, now it’s like every other day. and it’s not just the floaty feeling… my legs get heavy, my speech feel weird, like i talk too slow or too fast. i asked my mom if i could be low in sugar or like have some blood pressure thing and she said maybe it’s just “mental fatigue” 😐 what even is that bro. teachers say i’m smart, i get good grades, i pay attention, but my body feels like it’s on airplane mode half the time. and when it hit me during gym class?? bro. i swear i almost tripped running laps, like my body didn’t wanna listen to my brain anymore. this not anxiety i think, cause i’m not scared, i’m just… disconnected? like unplugged from the world or something. and i don’t even be on my phone that much!! i do sports, i got friends, i eat ok i guess. so why this happen? is this what burnout feels like? even at 17??

some people would probly say it’s stress or hormones or like growing pains in the brain but idk man, it don’t feel normal. like it feel medical maybe. but when i told the nurse at school she said to drink more water 💧 and i do, i swear. it’s not about that. something inside just don’t line up sometimes. my brain be like too aware and not aware at the same time. and it don’t help that when i try explain it people just laugh like “oh you’re just baked bro” but i’m not! that’s the whole point!! i don’t even know what high feels like really but this ain’t right. i just wanna know what’s going on, why this keep happening and if it’s dangerous or just annoying. cause sometimes i feel like maybe i just got a brain that glitches and this how it show. like software lag or when wifi goes weird. is that even possible in a human brain?? if you feel like that too let me know cause i feel like the only one sometimes 😞 it’s not ruining my life or anything but it’s bugging me, and i want answers, not jokes or “you need to sleep more” stuff. what if it gets worse? what if one day i can’t come back from it? anyway thanks for reading if you got this far, i just had to get it off my chest... maybe that’ll help a bit. maybe not.

I live in a 6 story apartment. I mostly keep to myself, I'm a sorta shy guy. I've sort of chatted with her, and she's super sweet. Like, and she's just gorgeous. The most adorable smile. I haven't really dated much the past few years, I've been on that grind, and caring for a relative. Now I find myself feeling a crush coming along and I swear, I saw to her today, a lovely dress, and my heart leapt bro good God have mercy

Last Saturday evening was supposed to be a vibrant outing with my wife, Sarah, and our close friend, who recently relocated to our town. Eager for some fun after recuperating from a cold, Sarah was particularly excited about the concert. I took up the responsibility of driving, which restricted me to just one beer, while Sarah and our friend didn't hold back on their drinking as the night progressed.

Throughout the evening, I noticed Sarah increasingly enjoying her drinks, though she seemed to become excessively intoxicated. I hesitated to intervene, seeing how much fun she was having. As the concert wound down, Sarah excused herself to the restroom. The show ended, and our friend and I waited outside for her. After about 20 minutes, with no sign of her return and her phone going unanswered, panic set in.

Seeking help, we asked people coming from the restrooms if they had seen Sarah, sharing her photo for identification. A concerned individual reported seeing her passed out in one of the stalls, convulsed in vomit. My anxiety skyrocketed at this shocking news. Venue staff were notified and suggested the immediate need for an ambulance. Without a second thought, I consented, worried about potential alcohol poisoning or other dangers like a spiked drink.

Emergency services arrived swiftly and transported Sarah to the hospital. I followed and was relieved when, after a few hours, she regained consciousness. The doctors assured us she was overtly intoxicated but otherwise okay. Reflecting on the incident the following day, Sarah seemed to find humor in the situation but believed my decision to call the ambulance was an overreaction, describing the ordeal as traumatic and embarrassing.

I tried explaining my actions were out of sheer concern, prompted by the advice from the venue staff, and the fear of her potentially choking in her condition. Several days have passed, and she still contends that the ambulance call was unnecessary. With our health insurance covering the cost, the decision wasn't financially burdening, yet I'm left wondering if my response was indeed excessive.

Considering this scenario, imagine the intrigue if this ordeal unfolded on a reality TV show. Cameras rolling as the drama and subsequent emergency unfold could drastically magnify the reactions of the audience and participants alike. Would viewers perceive my actions as a deeply concerned husband or an over-reactive partner? The boundaries of privacy and empathy are surely tested in the glare of public scrutiny on reality television.

Was calling an ambulance for my unconscious wife excessive?

As a seamstress who owns her boutique, I've always cherished handcrafting wedding dresses as a special gift for my close friends. So far, I've designed two beautiful gowns fitting the unique styles of each bride. I genuinely enjoy both my profession and delighting my friends in such a meaningful way. However, my current situation is a bit complicated. I'm 26 weeks pregnant and actively reducing my workload in anticipation of my impending maternity leave, delegating major projects to my team.

Recently, my friend shared her exciting news of getting engaged, and naturally, I was thrilled for her. During our conversation, she asked if I would be creating her wedding dress. I immediately agreed, assuming there was ample time to work on her gown once she set a date. She revealed the wedding was planned for January 19th. Initially, I assumed January 19, 2026, which seemed perfectly manageable. But she corrected me—it was January 19, 2025! This left me stunned as it was just around the corner, barely five months postpartum for me.

Politely, I explained that the timeframe just wouldn't work with my maternity plans and asked if she might consider a later date if she wanted me to design her dress. She was firm on her date, and I didn’t push further, but I made it clear that under these circumstances, I couldn't commit to creating her dress.

She seemed not to grasp the amount of effort and time needed for such a task, especially questioning why I couldn’t simply make her dress during my maternity leave. In a moment of frustration, I might have been harsher than intended, questioning if she understood the stress it would entail on me while being pregnant.

This led to some tension within our friend group, as she expressed her disappointment publicly in our group chat, hinting that I played favorites and that my refusal was a clear indicator. Though I'm quite upset, a part of me feels remorseful. While I'm not confident enough to entrust my employees with the task of a full wedding gown—they're not quite there yet—I'm considering perhaps offering to design either a rehearsal or reception dress as a peace offering.

Imagine if this whole ordeal were to unfold on a reality show? The drama and tension would undoubtedly be heightened, with cameras zooming in for close-ups of the emotional exchanges. Viewers would be split, some empathizing with the pressure and health concerns I'm facing, while others might side with my friend, feeling her disappointment and interpreting my inability to commit as a personal slight.

What reaction might follow if I explained the situation on a reality show?

So here's the thing: Is it possible to love two people at once? 'Cause it feels like I'm caught in a damn tug-of-war. On one hand, there's Alex. We've been together for years and honestly, we just click! He's my rock and we've built this life that's so familiar and comfortable. But then there's Jamie... Man, when I'm with Jamie, it's electric! It's like nothing I've ever felt before...sparkling chemistry that just won't quit no matter how much I try to ignore it!!!

It's like living a double life and as much as I try to keep everything balanced, it's draining as hell. In the world of relationships (or whatever you want to call this), do you have to pick sides? Or is there some magical way where both can coexist without someone getting hurt? The scales are tipped, always leaning towards one or the other based on the day or mood or even what side of bed I woke up on.

I've read all sorts of relationship advice and tried applying some polyamory techniques but man... those aren't foolproof either! It seems more like an ongoing experiment than a sustainable solution; Headlines in my head screaming, 'Can you have your cake and eat it too?' Maybe I'm just being greedy or selfish wanting the best of both worlds while risking losing them both if anyone finds out.

But hey... life is short, right? Shouldn't we be chasing these intense feelings wherever they lead us? Emotions run high and maybe there isn't a clean cut answer here... Who knows if such love triangles resolve nicely like fairy tales suggest. Do I need to make peace with this chaos lurking within or drag everyone involved into an awkward conversation that might blow up in my face?!?

so, here's the deal, guys. i've been dating this amazing guy for a couple of months now, and everything's going great. we're both 17, figuring ourselves out, and all that jazz. the thing is, he's super plugged into the whole LGBTQ+ community. like, he's got this crew, and they use so many terms i'm just not familiar with. i'm feeling a bit lost because i keep hearing the words "gay" and "queer" being tossed around like they're interchangeable—are they??? i mean, i thought i knew the basics, but turns out, i might be missing something.

so, picture this: we're hanging out at his friend's house, right? his buddy starts talking about this "queer art show" they're planning, and someone else chimes in with, "oh, it’s so great to see spaces that celebrate queer culture!" and i'm just standing there, nodding like i get it, but inside, i'm like "wait, what?" because i thought "queer" just meant "gay," but now it seems like it’s got its vibe and everything. i'm kinda stressed out 'cause i don’t want to seem clueless or, worse, offend anyone by asking, "um, what's the difference between gay and queer?"

i remember when i first told my parents about my boyfriend—they asked if i was "coming out as gay now?" and honestly, i didn't even know how to respond. i said, "uh, i think so?" but now, i'm hearing all these terms like bisexual, pansexual, non-binary, and gender-fluid, and i'm like, okay, where do i fit in here??? does liking a guy make me gay, or am i somewhere on the queer spectrum? i'm legit confused, and part of me is worried i'm just overthinking it. like, does it even matter as long as i'm happy? but still, i'm in this kind of identity limbo, unsure of what label, if any, suits me best.

now, i did what any self-respecting teen would do; i dove into the internet rabbit hole, reading articles and forums about all these different identities. from what i gather, "gay" typically refers to someone who's attracted to the same gender, right? but when it comes to "queer," things seem way more open-ended. some folks embrace it as a blanket term for anyone not straight, others as an act of reclaiming a word that was once an insult. but it seems to have this larger-than-life, almost rebellious energy to it, embodying a broader celebration of diversity. is that how you guys see it too???

part of me wants to just sit down with my boyfriend and ask, "hey, what do these words mean to you?" or "how do you feel about them?" maybe even confess that i'm kind of at a loss for the right vocabulary here. but, i can't help but worry he might think i'm not invested or that i’m just clueless. in the end, i guess this is part of the journey, right? figuring out how i identify, what these terms mean to me personally; it's just this process of questioning and understanding, getting comfortable with being a bit of a rainbow-colored question mark for now. who else has been here too? i'd love to hear your stories or advice 'cause i'm just trying to keep my head above water in this sea of new words and identities. thanks for listening!

I'll try to keep this short... No promises...

I'll start out by saying... My family live so far under the poverty line, we have to skip out on food if we want clothes, and skip out on both if we want anything remotely 'decently priced' for the 'normalized' household as of where I live. It's a miracle we even have a home phone at this rate.

Anyways... About a month ago, when my family finally thought everything was finally looking good (not terribly shit, but not very good. Just good for our standards...), my mom got deathly sick. We were calling an ambulance every night for a week, and they wouldn't let us stay for the night. Not even just my mom. During one of her stays, she was pumped with SO MUCH FUCKING MORPHINE, IT WAS LITERALLY ABOVE OVERDOSE LEVELS. It didn't do a fucking thing for her pain. It was only the fifth stay that they finally even uttered the thought of going for a scan after a literal decade of my mother trying to explain to the doctors that she needs a scan done (she's the daughter of a missionary [not involved with the military] nurse [who didn't do anything for her sicknesses, but would for everyone else]).

When the scan came in, turns out her lower back is broken and pinching nerves on her left. The cartilage has been worn and torn down over years of abuse and wear.

Even though I had a cold at the time, and having just cut my hand open with a wood carving knife in class, I walked halfway across town (hour walk) to get her meds that may or may not work.

Thankfully, they do work, but unfortunately, only a little bit. After another couple days of suffering, screaming, and crying in pain at home, we call another ambulance, and the pharmacist, explaining the situation.

We get her stronger meds (enough to make the pharmacist give us overdose kits) and they kind of work finally.

Can you guess what else is happening with all of this? A friend of hers has been hitting on her the whole time, before and after. My mother has a fiance, and he knows it.

I cannot explain how much I hate this friend of hers. He helps out a little bit, but other than that, all I hear is constant sexual jokes or comments, and I can't handle it anymore. Every guy friend anyone has had in this family, always gets a crush on one of us, or is horny. And God forbid we get any female friends. It's basically impossible.

Might I add... This same 'horny' male friend of my mom... Even commented about me. I'm still a minor. This man is in his fifties. I cannot express how much I want to stop my mom every time he sends her a text to hangout, or calls to hangout.

So... Practically dying mom, stressed out brother whose trying to find a job/ join the army with much difficulty, and a fifty year old man hitting on my mom, and sometimes commenting about me, making me just want to puke. Sounds lovely. I can't even express this though. My mom is already dealing with all the mental problems that comes with being abused since childhood, and now her broken back. I can't talk to my brother because he's not exactly strong mentally, and I don't mean to make him sound bad, but he's not the best with the kind of comfort I need. No therapists have worked, and now all I can do is sit quietly with a happy little smile while I watch life crumble before me. No meds work, no comfort food works, no comfort drinks work, no comfort activities work. And the things that do work? We can't afford them.

I just want to cry, to scream, to punch something. But I literally just can't. I don't do well with pain, I hate screaming because then someone will hear me, and crying just doesn't make anything better. It only makes it worse in my case. Trust me, I've already tried crying.

It's been about a month of all of this, and a certain someone who we helped out not too long ago (a homeless woman) has come back to say hi. The only problem... She went against every rule we had, took whatever she wanted really, even my own meds that keep me from getting sick and having a seizure. She did crack on the front porch, was basically a whore when she went elsewhere, and now that she's back... She leaves all her shit in front of our windows.

Might I add in... We live in a God damn apartment building. She was warned multiple times, and we have kicked others out for doing this same shit even after being told and given chances.

And let me tell you... This isn't even the tip of the iceberg in my life... I just needed to get this one out. I'm finally getting pushed over the edge here.