Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

So.

I’ve been struggling with different things for the past three years or even four, it’s been a while and I cannot remember exactly when this did start but I’ve tried everything to fit into what people want me to fit but at the same time I don’t care and at the same time o don’t wanna be a part of them, even if I try to be different I feel like if I’m just calling the attention or something like that and I’m afraid, afraid of myself and disgusted and…I don’t know what more, my mother did find out and tried to force me to get better by trying to make me fit in what she wants that just kept me pulling down

Greetings everyone,

I’m a 31-year-old male, and my wife, who is 30, recently settled into the idea of starting our own family after securing stable jobs and purchasing our first home together. As part of this new chapter, I suggested my wife should get her driving license, which she previously did not need while living in Boston. To support her, I provided an old car for practice and arranged lessons with a certified driving instructor. She successfully passed her driving test!

Although she was quite content with the car I first gave her, I wanted to surprise her with something special. Until then, I had been driving a 2011 Civic, and neither of us had ever owned a brand new car. Drawing from some savings, I decided to buy her a shiny new Mercedes A220, which she absolutely adored.

Now, this is where the main event unfolds.

Approximately a month after the Mercedes arrived, my old Civic unexpectedly broke down. The mechanic informed me it suffered from multiple issues, primarily electrical wiring faults that affected the engine power. My wife generously offered her Mercedes for me to use for work while we figured out what to do with the Civic.

Upon arriving at work, a colleague of mine (let's call him Chad), noticed the shiny Mercedes and approached me for a chat. He inquired about its price and where my usual Honda was. Just as I began to explain the situation with my Civic, he abruptly interrupted and asked if he could take the Mercedes for a spin. I politely declined, explaining that it was my wife’s car and I wanted to keep it in perfect condition for her. Chad seemed annoyed by this and briskly walked off.

As I continued towards the office, I sensed a few unusual stares from other colleagues. Later, while settling into my desk, a close work friend leaned over and mentioned that Chad had spread the word that I had become a snob with the new car, and even called me an asshole for not letting him drive it.

I’m puzzled about what I could have done differently. Was declining his request really that unreasonable? Any insight would be helpful.

If this were a scenario on a reality TV show, I wonder if the reaction would have been amplified for dramatic effect. Perhaps the cameras would have focused on Chad's reaction and the gossip throughout the office, turning a simple misunderstanding into a major plot twist. How do you think the audience would have reacted to this situation?

I've been butting heads with my neighbor for years, pretty much ever since I settled in here about seven years back. Recently, he's really crossed the line by taking it upon himself to saw off half the branches from my apple tree that extended over his property. He never even bothered to warn me first. That really set things off.

To make things a bit more private after losing those branches, I installed a new fence along the property line and painted only the side facing my yard. My neighbor didn’t appreciate the unfinished look on his side, so he retaliated by building a taller fence right next to mine, topping it off with a security camera aimed into my backyard.

Driven to my wit's end, I came up with a plan to disrupt his precious, but seldom used, lawn. I bought a whole barrel of dandeliane seeds and spread them across his grass under cover of night. In my haste, I didn't spread them evenly and accidentally left the empty barrel outside near my shed. It turns out those seeds flourished, transforming his lawn into a sea of dandelians.

Now, he's furious and showed up at my door, accusing me of ruining his lawn. I was careful to avoid his camera and was fully covered up during my nighttime gardening, so there's no concrete evidence it was me. He wants me to pay for the damage, but can he legally force me to cover the costs?

Imagining this feud playing out in a reality TV show, it'd probably be pretty dramatic. Cameras zooming in on the late-night seed sprinkling, dramatic music as he discovers his flower-infested lawn, cutaways to confessionals where we both vent our frustrations. Viewers would be on the edge of their seats waiting to see what happens next in the neighborhood war zone.

Hey, guys. So, I've been grappling with a bit of a morally gray area lately, and I could really use some outside perspective. Is it bad to watch porn? I get that it's a touchy subject, and opinions on it vary greatly. Sometimes, I feel like everyone does it, but no one talks about it, almost like it's this secret secluded to the hidden corners of our lives. The alluring consumption of adult content is accessible as ever due to modern technology and the privacy it offers, yet the stigma surrounding it remains quite palpable. It leads one to wonder about its implications, both psychologically and ethically. I mean, sure, on the surface level, indulging in pornography feels like a harmless escapade, almost like ordering takeout instead of cooking. But is it nearly as innocent as it seems?

There's something undeniably magnetic about the immediate gratification it offers, and let's face it, the variety is vast. However, I can't help but feel that there's a darker underlying current. Does it adversely affect our perception of reality? Impacts cognition and behavior? Or maybe even our relationships with others? These questions keep swirling around in my head. The industry sure is a juggernaut, boasting millions of viewers but is it all coming at a hefty price? Does it heighten unrealistic expectations or foster an unhealthy cycle that one struggles to escape from? I know personally, it's hindered my capacity to connect meaningfully with partners at times. And the feeling of guilt lingers, a byproduct of wondering if I'm feeding into something more sinister. Are others feeling this duality of pleasure and guilt too, or is it just me? Ugh, it's complicated, isn't it? 🤔

I'm 15 and I'm feeling suicidal, the only reason I don't do it is because the few friends I have would be left traumatized and I don't want them to feel like shit because of me.

I hate my life, it's not bad per se, we're not poor but there's always something making me feel worse.

My dad gets angry at me for the littlest things and he's never helpful, he can't help in homework, doesn't do anything around the house other than cook. He gets angry like hell even only if I Huff around him that he'd say he'll slap me (he never did but it's still scary), my mom helps but she's overwhelmed, she's got work and me and my brother and then my dad because he cannot even do something that takes too much effort. I'm basically refraining myself from sharing opinions, saying what I really like or think or show anger when I get angry around him because anything could become a reason for me to get him angry.

He doesn't even fake to appreciate me, I get a good grade, well I was supposed to, there's no reason for me to even get a compliment, I get a bad grade and he shoves it in my face like it's fun that I did bad.

He's probably racist and homophobic, Ill never ever tell him my sexuality, and he keeps joking about me not being able to get a boyfriend otherwise he'll beat him up.

I cannot dress how I want, I'm not talking about miniskirts partying all night, I'm talking about not being able to wear simple alt clothing because he doesn't like it (he gets angry because of a choker, that doesn't even have weird shapes on it like satanist or something like that, it's just a heart in the middle).

I don't know what to do, I don't wanna keep going all this, all this shit just makes me worse and it feeds other insecurities I have and I don't know if there's a way to fix this. I don't want to ask them about getting a professional I can talk to because that way then I'd have to explain to them why I need it.

For background information Me and my boyfriend have been together for 8 months, he’s the sweetest ,most caring,loving man. He never yells and is the first one to say sorry. He’s everything I’ve needed but he messed up in the first weeks we were together. ( something to do with a female best friend ) but he stopped being friends with her before we were “official.” It’s me self sabotaging, wanting to hold onto anything bad he’s ever done. Why can’t I let things go? I love him and this is the first man I knew would be the best husband. I don’t deserve his love. He doesn’t deserve to be treated the way I treat him. I’m always switching emotions or being cold towards him if I’m slightly annoyed. I know people say to change for him but it’s not that easy. I’ve been this way in every relationship. This is the LEAST toxic relationship I’ve ever been in. Now the problem is just me. I don’t even know where to start. I feel I’m too damaged to be with him. Every time I try to leave he begs me to stay. He doesn’t deserve that. I want to be enough for him but atp I don’t think I even deserve it. Sometimes I wish he would just see how terrible of a person I am and leave. I hate hurting him. I hate knowing it’s me who’s the reason for the sadness behind his eyes. Idk what to do. He won’t let me leave and I don’t think I’m good enough for him.

It was a sunny day when I first found myself under the water, feeling the panic rise in my chest like a tidal wave. Just a regular swim day, you know? But then I slipped. The water enveloped me, and for a brief moment, everything turned dark. I thought I was going to die, honestly! My thoughts just raced—what does it feel like to drown? Is it like suffocating? Or is it calm, like falling asleep? I could feel my lungs screaming for air, yet all I could do was flail and hope for someone to pull me up. Every desperate grasp for air felt hopeless, and I realized in that instant how fragile life truly is. You never think it'll happen to you until it does... right? 😨

But wait! Not all was lost, as if by some miracle, I felt a strong arm wrap around me and pulled me to the surface. It was the most incredible feeling, breaking through the surface and gasping for air! The pure relief was overwhelming. I choked, sputtered, and took in the bright sunshine that I had been missing. Suddenly, every struggle I faced under the surface felt worth it, somehow. It’s like I got a second chance, you know?! I learned to appreciate each breath as if it were my last! The water that had once terrified me now felt like a strange friend that taught me a lesson about resilience. Isn’t it funny how life throws stuff at you that you never expect? 🌊

Looking back, drowning wasn't just about feeling fragile; it was also about emerging stronger. I mean, now I look at water differently. I respect it, yes, but I also embrace it. I’ve taken swimming lessons since then, and I’m no longer afraid. Instead of seeing it as a threat, I’ve learned how to navigate through the waves! Each splash reminds me of my near-drowning experience, but it also fuels my desire to conquer my fears. So, isn’t it something? To feel new life after a near-death experience? 🌈 Do you think we can emerge stronger after facing our fears, or does it leave us more cautious? I hope everyone out there can find their path to recovery like I did! Keep swimming, because life’s currents may be rough, but we are stronger than we think!!! 💪

Dear mummy,

words can't even begin to describe the kind of pain it is to be your daughter. I've known you my whole life yet I've completely failed to understand you and why you choose to be the way you are. I've failed to understand your refusal to take accountability for the problems you continue to create within our family.

I understand that you were born in a different time where abuse was a style of parenting, and where children were seen but not heard. I understand that you were raised to think that these sort of things were okay. but in your 50 years of living how have you failed to see that this behaviour you continue to do is exactly what's affecting your relationship with your children. A relationship you so desperately want yet refuse to fight for. I don't understand why you're afraid of your children leaving you when you're older, but you refuse to care and nourish them while they're still here with you. aren't you contradicting yourself mummy? why do you make it your life's mission to create division between the children in this family and the turn around and ask us to be united and love one another. are you not being a hypocrite mummy? why do you continue to coddle the boys in the family and forbid them from lifting a finger, and then turn around and blame us girls when they behave like selfish, inconsiderate bastards. Was it me who raised them mummy? I don't think you understand the kind of environment you created for us mummy.

I was raised in a house where I wasn't allowed to make mistakes. a place where my opinions didn't matter. a home where facts were void because you're the only one who could ever be right. I can't even count the amount of times where you made me feel so ashamed for existing in the body I do. If it wasn't my weight that was the issue, it was my gender, and if it wasn't that then it was the fact that I was unfortunate enough to look like my father. You quite literally raised me to hate myself! but on the few occasions you take an interest interest in what I have to say, you act surprised when I tell you that I don't really like the way I look. One time you actually had the audacity to ask me why I wasn't confident in myself like the other kids. I even specifically remember you asking me why we're not close, and why I don't tell you things. You expect me to behave like a child who was raised in a home where her voice mattered, a place where her questions weren't dismissed as disrespect. but honestly mummy your like a sculptor who never touched the clay but demands a masterpiece. And for that I will never forgive you, no matter how much I love you.

I used to believe you'd change, but time and time again you proved me wrong. I hope you know that all those times we argued and disagreed on what you were doing, I was trying to mend to our relationship. I hope you understand that all those times I was being a "disrespectful child" who "talked back to her elders", I was hoping you'd understand that I fought because I wanted a relationship with you. But now I understand that you are simply too proud to change. Too proud to even consider that maybe you went about motherhood the wrong way. But it's ok. Knowing this has honestly freed me. I'm no longer the girl who's filled with jealousy when I see my friends have fulfilling relationships with their mothers. I'm no longer the girl whose eyes fill with tears when I see someone on TV who reminds me of you. Because at least now I know where we stand.

Sincerely your daughter

TW slight mention of SH and suicidal thoughts

In the past I had some depressive like symptoms. I sh in many different ways and also had some kind of suicidal thoughts. I have gotten better over the last year because some issues I had with other people solved and everything is actually fine. I have been fine. Things have gotten better. However I feel like I am slipping again. I am slipping. The last days or weeks I feel worse and thoughts come back I hoped wouldn’t. I thought it would finally get better because I actually began to see a future for myself. Still the feeling is stronger that there isn’t anything. I suddenly notice that maybe I am the problem. Others care about me and are actually right in many situations but I just tell them off even yell and even am manipulative in some situations. The worst about is that they often then actually believe me and I do want to apologise but the words just don’t come out. I don’t make things better and just wallow in my despair. I try to. But I am not sure. I hurt myself again. It’s stupid. I don’t even know why. I somehow feel like it’s all part of my character, who would I be without my problems? I need that feeling of self-pity. I need to be able to fault others and yet I know that I don’t make it easy for others. I want to have friends and want to be close to others but I can’t share anything about myself. I want to have something genuine and yet I am jealous if they’re better than me or even feel worse than me. I just can’t feel empathy for them. Even while I am writing this I feel like I am reading off a script. That I am not being genuine.

You know, my friends, I have a hard time feeling comfortable around people. My biggest problem is that they have an extremely limited view of how to treat me, at least with those I've encountered. While I maintain a very sophisticated one with them, due to the fact that I'm always trying to give a response that, first, fits the person and, second, is foreign to their customs and those I'm used to. In itself, it unbalances me when I socialize, and that's what makes me feel the need to be alone.

I'm not interested in maintaining a language specific to a specific group, but rather, I'm interested in a language that allows me to be universal with all groups. I feel it's an interesting challenge because if I stay within a certain language, I'm not aware of what's happening in the group, given that language is there to be embedded and what it entails not distancing oneself in a way that schematizes circumstances. Furthermore, I prejudice what is external and not maintained by a norm among most groups, precisely to protect the stability of my group. Dear all, I feel that solitude precisely allows for openness to all groups, since it allows for observation and the development of responses to the development of boundaries that allow for coexistence between them and oneself. Those who are alone are considered to lack boundaries, and being alone in itself expresses that you lack the tools to socialize for this group, and that they are specifically for this group. For this reason, while there are several groups of this nature, and I haven't encountered any others, there is a diversity of language, and one must respond to it in a way that establishes consequences within the language used for a particular group if it is breached, thereby maintaining the identity of the group for me, as well as for the rest, as well as mine.

There are many people who possess this spirit, given that they insert themselves into such groups and, of course, base their actions on achieving the integration of the individual on an essence of victimhood if they fail, an issue for which one must be prepared. Indeed, then, loneliness itself, as we can see, is problematic for this social instance, and not because of loneliness itself, but because of the consideration of these groups. Loneliness, we can say, explores the thoughts that are generated within the same concrete routes of exploration of the world, precisely to give us ways to continue with this development of ideas, which in itself, I insist, is systematic, given that there is no group that holds ideas that are not such and that are assumed even as dogmas.

I have to say it: Loneliness, in today's world, is undervalued precisely because we have not been taught the ways to manage it. In itself, it has all consisted of remaining at the mercy of a group for the security that this implies, or the prejudice it entails. There is no longer concern for the context, which is what allows for non-violent behavior, and its failure to do so in itself concretizes the oft-discussed distrust among people that we all maintain when we are from different groups. In fact, I've come to view those solitary entities as a simulation of being solitary when in reality they are governed by the rules of a group, which in itself makes them belonging. Indeed, it must be said that we are part of a group when we abide by its rules, not by physical proximity, which doesn't explain those who appear alienated from the group to which they are considered to belong despite joining groups.

I believe that today it is necessary to discuss when we are part of a group, when we are inserted into the dynamics of a group, as well as the awareness of such elements precisely for mobilization among them or precisely their limitation given our ideology, which in itself is difficult, if not impossible, to result in a destructive outcome since it deprives us of support. I do not personally understand this fear conspired in such a way although I believe that it is the result of experiences in which the individual in question and others have not known what to do, which is why they resort to talking about a rough and impossible path to pass when the morphology of said path itself is expressed by the absence of tuned praxis and that precisely determine dark and impassable dimensions, being able to point out, right now that I speak of it, why the journey through such paths represent a terrain of uniqueness for when such characteristics are present in other aspects of life such as nature itself in the absence of human agents as well as certain mythologies, however, this is only to highlight, although I do not seek certainty but the development of ideas, which, its help is always felt, and its denial, it is complicated to help then will always be welcome in any way.

!vent!(it's kinda long, srryy)

Abt 3 years ago, I transferred schools. The first month was fine, I didn't really have any friends, but that was okay with me because I've always been shy and introverted. But the second month is when things took a turn for the worse. This really popular girl, who I never really paid any attention to, started picking on me for no reason. It's not that serious at first because she's just giving me looks and sneering subtle jabs at me... until she starts calling me slurs, pushing me and hitting me, fat-shaming me, and telling her inner circle of friends or whatever to bully me as well. It reached a climax when she and some of her friends ganged up on me and, uh, beat me. I'm a boy (kind of short for my grade, I'm 5'4, so they were able to get an advantage on me), however, so no one really believed me. Even when I showed the teachers the scratches, cuts, bruises, etc., all they did was email her parents. :/ At this point, I'm depressed (still am) and started not eating because her comments about my weight got to me (still do). I can't tell my parents because they have their own issues with themselves, each other, and at their jobs (we're not in a financially stable position, so I can't really change schools easily). About 5 months in(i think) and I'm at my lowest mentally and sometimes even physically as the popular girl would hit me with a variety of items. That's when he entered my life, he was also new and had moved from California, at first he would sit next to me at lunch and just silently eat next to me, then he would ask to partner up with me in school projects, and eventually we became friends. He would share his lunch with me if I forgot to pack mine or couldn't afford any school lunch, he let me come over to his house and tutor me for hours on his own time, always included (at first) me even when he gained new friends, and we had special nicknames for eachother that only we could use. He also defended me whenever the popular girl tried to bully me and her bullying became much less frequent. I love this guy and was scared to admit this to him because I'm also a guy and wasn't sure if he felt the same. This all changed the second year i think? he started becoming more distant, which was unnoticeable at first but then I spotted him with the popular girl. I felt betrayed because they were sitting next to eachother, at a secluded table, laughing and eating as if he hadn't witnessed her call me terrible names, punch me, and text me awful things. I was so freaking confused and confronted him about it. He shrugged it off and they became closer, and closer, and closer. Until, you guessed it, they announced they were dating. It got worst bc when she picked back up bullying me(sometimes i wonder if its even worse now) he's present for most of it and either stays silent or laughs/chuckles. I don't know what I did wrong. This is pretty much my everyday life now and I hate going back to school everyday. He won't even look at me without showing me the middle finger and laughing at me. I sit alone now and cry pretty much everyday bc I love him and I can't figure out what the fuck I did wrong. I've stopped eating again(sometimes for days at a time), I'm going comatose for most of the day, and my grades are dropping. I just want him back.

When you have a lot to say but the people you call closest to you do not try to understand you, your soul and body give you some warnings. I've never been a "I can't live without music, I can't do anything without music" person.I always felt strange because there were so many people like this around me, but I realized that I also have a different connection with music.I have a long-standing relationship with someone who I am certain will be my future wife.(a whole 3 years) Maybe I deceived myself, maybe I ignored all of this just because I loved him so much.He doesn't trust me. Yes, I can't believe it either and I don't want to accept this fact, but he doesn't trust me.He repeatedly questions my every action, does not want me to have any contact with the opposite sex, and demands screenshots of all my conversations with my girlfriend. So what does this have to do with music?

"Come on, let's give up without forcing anything. You are the sane man, I am the tired man.

.

.

We're aiming high again

Life is passing us by, step by step

I've had enough, let me be

Let's find a place, far from the world"

I realized I was saying these words to myself even though I hadn't listened to this song for a very long time.Those words that came to my mind out of the blue after I noticed my boyfriend's behavior..We've certainly gone through some tough times in our relationship, but we've never experienced any insecurity. While I trusted him with my whole body and soul, I also believed he trusted me with his whole body and soul. I'm so confused. If you've read this far, thank you, but no one will likely respond to my post. At least I've poured out my heart.

I feel like today was a day of hell. Everything was so disorganized. I felt like I was skipping work since I only showed up two out of three days this week. I don't want to show up on other days, but I feel a very uncomfortable level of responsibility, especially when it comes to birthday celebrations and other things. I don't want to attend celebrations; I'm there to do a great job, not to integrate in such a friendly way. I like my solitude.

I feel like I regained my solitude today. I don't know, I felt like I was getting my life back after a long time. I don't like the country I live in; there are difficulties and so on, but I feel like everything is bearable. I had to manage the psychiatrist in detail; she was influenced by my father, as I thought. She took it seriously, thank goodness, that I didn't stop the treatment; I feel good because she's attentive and also, she admits, the effect of my routine on the healing of the issue. I feel very valued by the psychiatrist, but it's difficult for her; nevertheless, we're on the journey together. It's not the best I ever hoped for.

For some reason, I feel like I've returned to normal because I feel like I can tolerate the world as it is, imperfect from my perspective and like everyone else's. I feel like I can tolerate everything now, and I'm happy about it. I was also happy to see my stepmother and her father. I don't know, all in all, I had a normal day and I was able to tolerate it well; I didn't expect that. Maybe it's because I was also able to get away from the psychiatrist and her influence. Seeing that we were able to handle ourselves, I feel like everything is fine now. It was always my life's goal to be able to manage with a psychologist, or a psychiatrist. I felt welcomed back into the world, into society itself.

I have to confess, out of all this adventure I went through, I feel like I finally got what I wanted. To be able to deal with a therapist, to work as a team in some way, not just one person on one side and me on the other. That's why, I confess, my dental treatment didn't work, in any way, that was it. Since I left my therapist, I felt like the world had turned its back on me because there was no way out of my environment; that's how I understood it. Feeling like I've finally entered, entered the world, is simply fantastic, sensational. I feel like I can walk the streets again completely normally, tolerate the day, write many things, many ideas, but always with the feeling that my efforts in mental health, if they're welcomed by anyone, well, actually by everyone now, but mainly by those who consist of the mental health aspect. That support, that verification, makes me feel like I'm on the right track, or at least, seen by someone beyond myself, and I like that, I have to confess.

I have to confess it. I feel like that was the cure for my entire illness. Just that. I feel like I'm finally believed, taken seriously, that I see beyond, that I can handle the treatment. That I can finally handle treatment, that I'm taken into account within it, that I, as a patient, deserve respect for myself and my processes—I finally achieved that. I have to confess: The only cure was having someone check on me with my mental health, working as a team. That was it. I can't do that with anyone in my circle, because no one takes care of their mental health, that's the pure truth. So, it's feeling an immense burden.

I feel that the cure, moreover, was always returning to a mental health professional, but one that truly exists. That they don't abandon you, that they're not a scam, that they don't leave you stranded, that they don't act on behalf of others but on behalf of you, that there is a therapy given for me, given by another, that you can be supported by another. Not help, I didn't want help, support, support to keep me going. That was all I needed to get back to life, to go back to my life as before. That was it. Not someone coming and doing my job. The fact that I can't do it, that was the worst part. That's why dental treatment became pure hell for me. I understand everything now.

How difficult was this for those around me? A little support, so I could do my thing my way, without changing my routine unless it was for support. This, I insist, and I think it sums it all up, was the cure. A feeling that my life could be accepted by others based on my well-being and not theirs, and even so, it produces well-being for them, perhaps not giving them what they want, but by setting an example of being in context and not unconsciously destroying a world in unrecognizable ways. How difficult was it for everyone to see that? It was too simple. How hard was it to find a psychiatrist? Too hard. In the end, he was the only savior of everything because he was the only one around me who could do that. Does that make sense? That he's the only one? The problem with the psychiatrist is that everyone had the blessed humility to say they didn't know how to treat me. But was there any? Barely one and a half people, although my mental health was pushed aside during treatment. How difficult was it for others to see that? Honestly, the dental treatment was the least of my worries, from every point of view. Rightfully so, and I understand wholeheartedly, I ended up exploding at everyone.

Ironically, right now, the psychiatrist is the one putting the pieces together. She barely does six minutes of treatment, and she does so much more than the others. In addition to one person, whose example lifts heaven and earth and changes my life. From the smallest details, I categorically say, these people saved my life. In the dental service too, listening to me for a while, playing for a while, caring for me, being present, making the effort. That also did something very meaningful for me, and I'm not going to just give up. I can't do it. Also, damn, another doctor who supported me with the psychological aspect took it seriously, and in a way that I didn't get carried away with illusions. That one also deserves my award. These people, who did something, because those who operated didn't do a thing, except move some teeth with sophisticated and useless methods because they didn't attack anything, I can't let them be left aside in any way.

OKOK SO MY DAD got like REALLY angry at me yesterday and i dont really get y??

also pls take everything i say kinda with a grain of salt cuz idk his POV and even if i try to be fair im going to kinda favour myself so...

But ok so my parents work A LOT. like i see my dad like sometimes once every 3 days a lot. even tho we live in the same house. (i see my mom more cuz she wakes up early). And this week has been extra stressfull cuz theres been kind of a faire?? (idk how to spell it) and basicly everyday theres a new even they need to prep EVERYTHING for considering dietary needs cultural diferences (people from diferent coutries come) etc etc. So theive been really tired. My dad is coming home early cuz hes so exausted some days.

But basicly, this is stressing my mom sm she got kind of a thing on her neck and her face. The doctor dosent know what it is, since it wasent smt she recognised, but its all red and itchy. The doctor thinks its a mix of stress, alergies, maybe fungi (fungus? idk) and the meds shes taking becuz she got really sick last year.

So my mom went to get it checked yesterday while my dad went home early. So my dad told me and my brother that my mom was in the doctor (since she often comes home waay after my dad) and that we were gonna pick her up later. Ofc me and my brother said ok. So we were hanging out watching tv and my dad got the message that my mom was ready. So he told us and he went to leave. So me and my brother just went to grab our jackets and i went to grab my sketchbook too (long story but i subcouciously hu57 myself if i dont have it??? im trying to fix that) and my dad told us to just come and that he would leave without us. So we got kinda angry but went without our stuff.

Idk if it is important to the thing but it is winter here and kindacold. Also my i was wearing a jacketish but it was a pijama kinda comfort jacket i shouldent wear outside my house. But me and my brother were kinda joking like and playing cuz my dad was in a good mood and we were happy but my dad got super angry and he was like yelling at us for a WHILE and he said we always disrespect him and that we treat him like shit and were gonna kill someone becuz well crash the car and i ofc got stressed so my brother said "dont say anything" and my dad said me and my brother and my mom were ploting against him and that he hopes god gives us children that disrespect us 3times more then we do becuz he dosent deserve this and my brother was crying and it was so wierd??

I kinda thought he was like using us as a vsorta explosion thing cuz he was stressed from work but i talked to my mom today and she said he did nothing the whole week and she prepared everything alone?? She wasent even saying it angry she was just saying like im worried about ur dad and stuff so i dont think it was a lie and it seems like smt he would do.

I can see his point that my mom had a rough week and it would be nice for us to be quick but we literally took less then 5 minutes to leave and i dont think it would make much diference if me and my brother grabbed a jacket and a pen in my case (the sketchbook was by the door i leave it there)

Ever since I was younger, my ears have been... weird. I'll hear someone call my name out of nowhere, and it won't be someone I recognize. In the middle of the quiet, like at night or in the middle of class, my ear will start ringing. It only lasts a second or two but I can definitely hear it. Once I was facing a tough decision, and I had a podcast playing, and I wasn't paying too much attention to it. Then, randomly, as I was agonising over this decision, my ears focused on the podcast at the perfect time, and I got the perfect solution. Once I was down in the woods, just chilling, when a voice whispered in my ear, "Go home." I ignored it, but it came again and the third time it came I went home, and that's when I found out that there had been coyote sightings in the area if the woods I was in.

These memories are, yes, a bit fuzzy because that's the way my memory is, but I clearly remember the voices. The one that told me to go home was definitely female, and I think I actually recognised it: My great grandma, who had died a few years before. That specific voice hasn't come back, but I remember it with such clarity.

When I meditate, sometimes, and it's rare, the ringing will come back in the quiet. I'll hear the voices saying my name. But as soon as I stop meditating, it's back to almost normal, with the occasional ringing and maybe a whisper of my name every now and then.

I'm not a medium, so I don't know if I'm being haunted or what...