Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

I fucking hate my life, myself, the people in my life (besides one), the people not in my life anymore.

I feel so bad; this depression is killing me.

It already fucking killed me from the inside.

I feel rotten from the inside,

like i have this parasite in me that just kills my sense of time,

my ability to feel anything.

I just wanna feel. Feel happy, cared for.

I don’t wanna hurt, or be hurt.

I don’t wanna be wronged, left.

I don’t wanna be rotten,

scared of people seeing through the lies and driven away from me.

I hope i just dont wake up tomorrow,

no one text me,

so how will they know if i am alive or not?

They dont care if there is blood running through my veins,

oxygen through my blood,

if my heart is pounding.

No one fucking care in the end.

And the end? I’ve fucking reached it.

Im so done. I feel depressed,

so i reach out to people in the hope for just.. love, comfort, non-judgement.

And what do i get? ‘Space to heal’.

That you can’t heal the soul you didn’t break, doesn’t mean you can just fucking leave?

I literally told you i wasn’t your responsibility, and you take it as a yes for just ghosting me?

I never asked you to fix me,

i just long to be held. You abandoning me,

in the time i need you the most,

cuts deeper than the blade i use to just fucking feel something.

If, in the darkest time in the night,

my body just aches to hurt, bleed, harm.

Am i just supposed to give in?

Does it make you feel better that i have a possibility of bleeding out,

just because u can’t handle, change me?

That i feel unable to open up to you?

That i spend my time writing this?

Because only my fucking notes app listenings?that you are the reason i shed a tear?

Are unable to sleep?

Get bad grades from stress?

Look, i don’t blame you for my pain,

i blame you for ignoring it.

Do you feel better, now you left?

Because i ‘only text you to vent’?

Maybe i do,

BECAUSE YOU NEVER.FUCKING.TEXT.ME.

Do you want me to fucking beg you for a text? Is it that hard,

to just stick around when i need you?

I don’t want your pity, help, advice.

I know i shouldn’t cut myself,

i am aware that food is a live essential.

Do you think I’m that fucking stupid?

Do you see me as retarded?

You fucking do, don’t you?

Well i can’t ask you,

BECAUSE YOU WON’T FUCKING RESPONSE. Didn’t you say you care? Love me? Is this love? Leaving in hard times? Were it all just lies?

I really believed you.

When i told you i love you,

I did with every inch of me.

Why does everyone in the end leave?

Am i that fucking unlovable?

Or did they just got scared away,

by my rotten inside?

Oh well, can’t blame them.

And now you wonder why i don’t talk to you?

If i end up dead,

you’re one of my fucking 13 reasons,

and i hope it haunts you for eternity.

I hope your fucking soul is still lost,

wandering in the dark depths or the universe if you lay in your grave as your corpse rots away in the ground.

Actually, no, i don’t. I still love you.

I still care about you, how your day was,

how you slept, what’s going on in your head, your silence battles.

Even when i am drowning and youre just complaining about too much CO2 in your unlimited oxygen,

i’d still give you some of my air.

See..! It’s.not.that.fucking.hard.

What do you need to just understand it?

Do i need to buy you glasses?

Or will my suicide note be the thing you finally read, and don’t ghost?

Fuck, i am such a fool, ain’t i?

I am so mad at myself for not doing my best and being disappointed.

My mom told me that she dreamed about me where she tries to wake me up but i would not and that moment i tell to myself maybe it's about to happen.

I never thought I'd be someone who would complain about havin too much support from her parents. Honestly, most people would probably envy my situation, havin grandparents so involved and present. But lately, I swear it feels like they're takin over my house and my life. My husband and I just had our first baby—a beautiful little girl—and we thought havin my parents around would be the biggest blessing. But now, I find myself constantly frustrated, anxious, and overwhelmed. My parents have always been loving, but now they've turned into helicopter grandparents, hovering over every little thing we do. From how we hold our baby to the way we wash bottles, every single decision seems to need their approval. At first, I thought it was sweet, them wanting to help and be involved, but it quickly became clear that it's way too much. Like, seriously, do they really need to rearrange my kitchen cabinets because "it makes more sense" their way? Or constantly tell us we're dressing our daughter wrong, feeding her too often, or not enough? I mean, don't get me wrong—I appreciate that they're here for us, but it’s starting to feel like they're forgetting this is our child, our house, and our life.

The biggest issue, though, is that they're always popping over unannounced. I'll be sittin on the couch, exhausted after finally getting my baby down for a nap, and suddenly I hear the front door open and my parents stroll in like they own the place. No call, no text, nothing. They just assume that because we're family, boundaries don't exist. My husband tries to be patient, bless his heart, but I can see it wearing on him, too. The other day, they walked right into our bedroom to "check on the baby," completely ignoring that we were both still asleep. It was awkward, uncomfortable, and honestly disrespectful, even though I know they mean well. Every time I try to gently bring it up, my mom acts hurt, like I'm rejecting her help or saying she's a bad grandmother. My dad just gets defensive, claiming they're only trying to make things easier on us. But how can I tell them that they're actually making things so much harder? I don't wanna hurt their feelings—I love them dearly—but I'm an adult now, and I deserve to have my own space, my own rules, and my own way of doing things.

Setting boundaries with my parents feels harder than I ever imagined. I always pictured us being a big happy family, but this constant invasion of our privacy is straining everything. So how do you even start setting boundaries with parents who don't think they need them? I've realized it's gotta be about clear communication. I know it sounds obvious, but it's honestly terrifying to think of sitting them down and saying, "Look, we need some space." But I also know that if I don't speak up, it's never gonna get better. So, I'm planning to have an honest conversation soon—just me, my husband, and my parents. I need them to understand it's not about rejecting their love or pushing them away, it's about respecting the fact that we're our own little family unit now, with our own routines and preferences. I have to find a gentle way to say that while their intentions are great, their actions sometimes cross the line. Maybe I can suggest specific times they can come over, or ask them to call before they visit. Maybe setting certain tasks aside specifically for them, like babysitting once a week or family dinners every Sunday, will help them feel involved without overstepping. It's not gonna be easy, and I fully expect some hurt feelings and awkwardness at first. But setting boundaries isn't about hurting relationships—it's about protecting them. I believe my parents love us enough to eventually understand, even if it's painful at first. All I know is, if I don't start setting these boundaries now, I might end up resenting the people I love most—and that's something I refuse to let happen.

I don't wanna feel a thing. Talking about makes me sick. You've got therapy and I"ve got no regrets. Yesterday I slept till sunset. Woke up on my bedroom floor again. I can't even count on half the people that I call my friends. Rolling through another blackout. I don't gotta act like I'm ok. Everything got better when I realized nothing matters anyway. I don't want your bad advice. Keep that baggage to yourself. I could show the whole world my scars. But that'd probably scare them all away. I would rather take another hit, put on a band-aid. I need help. I NEED HELP. I'm too STUBBORN to ask myself. I'm so tired, I'm unwell. I'm too broken to fix myself...

Don't know how much more I can take

I just know that I need to get better.

I've never been able to understand myself or truly understand others. I've never managed to form a real attachment to someone without feeling like I'm lying to myself, and it's the same with my parents and friends. On top of that, I feel completely empty all the time. I can't even physically cry anymore—I feel hollow, like there's no solution. Yet, I've been seeing a psychologist for three years, as well as a child psychiatrist. I'm only 15, but honestly, I can't see myself making it to 25.

[Translated from French as IIWIARS is English only]

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

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

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

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

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

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

so my boyfriend and I have been there for 7 months now. I've noticed he's been talking to girls that he used to like and one of his exes. I told him to block them and not to talk to them cus I didn't feel comfortable with him talking to them. instead of listening or finding a way arnd it, he started gaslighting me, making me feel bad and feel like its my fault. He still talks to them to this day but I'm too scared to voice it out again cus I'm afraid he might get mad at me. am I being dramatic? am I overreacting?

Because of my mom’s boyfriend I might sort of be forced to Canada. I’m 16 now. Because of everything going on it’s made me feel dissociated, anxious, more depressed, and I’ve been getting horrible thoughts again.

My mom’s boyfriend has consumed her life. At first in my other story I thought she was getting lost in the idea of love which I still believe but she also recently told me the abuse and how she’s afraid for her life and our (me and my grandmas) if she leaves.

He has threatened to send people to my home, threatened to hurt my mom, and I heard from my grandma that he held my mom and I think raped her while she was menstruating. Because of the threats and the way it seems that my mom isn’t really making an effort to leave him since today I found out she had gotten a freshly new tattoo of his name, Luis Garcia, on the middle of her chest in big bold letters. But besides that because of everything, my grandma wants to take me out to Canada with her but they’re gonna close the borders once I’m over there (it’s what she said) and I’d have to be over there for a few months but if that were to happen that means I’d lose my therapy since if I don’t show up for months or I don’t show up to a lot of schedule appointments they’re gonna pull me out of therapy and I’d have to get a new therapist all over again. This is my 3rd therapist.

I have an option to live with my aunt but I don’t think it would be possible because a lot of responsibility is being put onto my aunt like keeping care of all of my grandmas plants and animals while my grandma is in Canada.. and I don’t want to be a burden but I’m so tired of holding of everything in and if I lose my therapist I won’t have anyone because this family is full of “you don’t need therapy”, “you’re not depressed”, “you don’t have an anxiety disorder, you need a brain scan to tell that”, etc.

If I go to Canada I’ll have no therapy and I’ll lose my therapy because they’ll send the discharge papers, most likely no privacy and I’d be forced to sleep with my grandma and I’d probably be living with my uncles wife that doesn’t speak English and her daughter is extremely clingy and would probably beg me to play with her which I really don’t want because I enjoy my privacy and I enjoy my alone time like I’m sure plenty of others do, I’m not close with my uncle and I’d be embarrassing if I have to ask him to buy me pads since he’d be the only one working (I think?).

And I don’t even have much time to think of any of this because 1 - I was already told to start packing up. 2 - My uncle is gonna come soon before the borders close so I HAVE to go IF my dad signs the consent form for me to leave Rochester and to Canada (my mom and dad have part custody).

I don’t know what to do, I’m overwhelmed and I feel like I have no choice in any of this. It’s like they expect me to be strong but I’m only 16, FRESHLY 16. I haven’t been 16 for over a month yet. I’m so tired of feeling alone because I know how much language barriers there’s gonna be with everyone speaking Spanish and I have selective mutism (I’m Puerto Rican and I do understand Spanish but to a certain extent since no one really taught me Spanish or spoke Spanish to me). If I lose therapy I’m gonna lose all the help I have.

Living in England with my South Asian wife and our twin boys, we've encountered a unique cultural blend within our family. I am white British and relatively uncreative when it comes to names; my own is quite generic. Nevertheless, we agreed early on that our children would carry my surname, "Smith," while my wife would choose their first names. She selected beautiful names from her culture: Ramin Navroz Smith and Rustom Parvez Smith. The meanings behind these names - 'joyous new year' and 'victorious hero' respectively - resonated with us, as did their distinct yet harmonious sound.

Both boys are under two years old and while they share similar features, their appearances diverge due to their mixed heritage. Ramin has inherited his mother’s darker features while Rustom shows lighter traits like mine. Despite being based in cosmopolitan London, where diversity is celebrated, somme comments from family members have sparked concern.

The issues began with my sister-in-law making offhand remarks that Ramin aptly fit his name but Rustom did not. Subsequently, she and my brother began affectionately calling Rustom "Russell," a nickname which quickly caught on among other relatives. Despite our repeated disapprovals, the nickname persisted to the point where Rustom began responding to it. We firmly requested that this stop, leading to emotional upset from my sister-in-law and accusations of over-sensitivity from other family members.

We stood our ground, restricting visits from family members who continued using the nickname, arguing that it inadvertently emphasizes racial differences that our young boys are too innocent to understand. The insistence on using a “whiter” nickname for Rustom seems particularly thoughtless given that it could seed a sense of disparity between him and his brother.

Friends and extended family claim we are overreacting and that the comparisons and nicknames are harmless. However, we worry about the long-term effects of these early distinctions based on physical appearance.

Wonder how all of this would play out if we were part of a reality show? Surely the viewers would have a field day debating our choices and maybe the public scrutiny would sway my relatives into reconsidering their stance. Or perhaps, it would just amplify the drama and misunderstanding.

Is it really overthinking to want my boys to grow up without imposed biases that could shape how they see themselves and each other? Are we being unreasonable in trying to protect our children from these seemingly small, yet potentially harmful, acts of distinction?

for nearly the entire year now, I can't seem to enjoy anything without some annoying little voice in my head going "you're going to die. this wont matter lol." and its all I can think of. if I'm not constantly doing something then it gets in my head and I just think over and over "nothing you do will matter. you're gonna die. everyone dies in the end." and its like, sometimes just because I know Im going to die someday I consider speeding up the process so I don't feel like I've ran out of time and instead I'm willingly giving it up. and I cant think about doing things in the future or things I have done because then It's just reminding mee I'm stepping closer towards the end. i don't know how to stop.

I love my parents like most kids. I’m 13, female. My mom, she’s strict but sweet. She always tries her best despite being tight on money, my dad is always there for me to talk to whether it’s about something stupid or deep concepts. My dad is silly and fun and while my mom is more laid back and strict on me I know she loves me and wants the best for me. They’re not bad parents but what’s really affecting me is their divorce. They’re got divorced a while ago, about 3 years now I think. Ever since then they still live in the same apartment, it’s my mom but my dad stays here. I don’t know why I think money reasons. Either way my dad gets really bad mood swings and easily gets angry. He’s also a bit paranoid I will admit. Recently my mom said we have to get our passports done again so we can go see my grandpa and in case I have any upcoming trips as I go into highschool. My dad for some reason was not happy about that. Usually they argue over text. While I’m still upset and can clearly tell when they’re fighting at least they keep it out of the hearing of me and my sister. It’s gone years since their last argument out loud. Today broke it. My dad yelled at my mom when she asked if he’d bring me to my tour of the highschool before my graduation. He said she was making him out to be a bad parent because he didn’t want to go and somehow that spiraled into how he didn’t want to get our passports done. He thinks my mom would take me in my sister away. She would never. I don’t know their thoughts but I KNOW my mom would never do that. They were yelling. It hurts to hear them yell. I wanted to cry but there’s nowhere I can be alone to cry because I share a room with my sister so I took a shower to cry in there. I was worried, am worried. Not about me. More about my parents and even more for my sister. She’s currently 10. She was 6 or 7 I think when she witnessed my parents get into their first and only physical fight, which was the breaking point of their marriage. It had been rough before then but that was what broke it. They had been screaming at each other and my dad accidentally pushed my mom into our room. I had been holding my sister on my bed and covering her ears, I was scared but I was more scared for her. I didn’t want her to have to hear that. But I only had two hand, not four and I couldn’t cover her eyes like I wanted. She was crying and she managed to break away to get to my mom and dad who weee struggling against each other. I was scared before and even more scared then. She was in the danger so I ran over and pulled her back so maybe she wouldn’t accidentally get hit. Ever since then whenever my parents fought out loud I’ve always been scared for her. How she felt, how would this effect her? I don’t even know if it does affect her, she always looks so neutral, maybe she’s used to it because she grew up in it. Either way I’m scared for her. I’m scared for my parents. I’m scared that they’re really going to break it off, that I’ll have to be moved around every couple days on a schedule between houses to be with them. I’m scared that it might get physical again. They’re divorced but they’re still living together, there’s nothing to stop that. If that happens could me and my sister not be able to see our dad again? Would the court think he’s not fit to be around us. I love my dad. I’m scared, so scared.

My sister Chloe phoned me last week, expressing how much she missed me and suggested staying over since we both had some free time. Being students in different states—she's about to graduate her college while I'm midway through mine—I was excited about the idea and agreed immediately.

Chloe arrived and settled into my small one-bedroom apartment, utilizing the couch as her bed. The first couple of days, Monday and Tuesday, were fantastic. We spent quality time catching up, wandering through malls, and just enjoying each other’s company. But then Wednesday rolled around, and I had to leave for work. I made sure she was comfortable alone at home, and she didn’t seem to mind at all.

During my lunch break that day, panic set in when I couldn’t find my wallet. I always keep my valuables, like my phone, keys, and wallet, in a concealed section of my backpack. I texted Chloe, asking if she had seen it anywhere. She responded no but offered to search for it. Thankfully, I had Apple Pay, so buying lunch wasn't an issue.

When I returned that evening, Chloe claimed she found my wallet atop my sock drawer. However, I was certain it wasn't there when I checked the previous morning, which raised my suspicions. A quick glance at my online banking app confirmed my fears: a total of $1545.32 was missing from my accounts. The realization that Chloe could be responsible for this was heartbreaking. When I confronted her and mentioned involving the police, she broke down and admitted to stealing the money.

I knew Chloe had always been the family favorite, rarely facing consequences for her actions, but this was too much. Despite her tears and protests, and even attempts to physically stop me, I dialed 911. She then locked herself in the bedroom and hysterically called our parents, who immediately flooded my phone with call attempts.

Talking with the dispatcher, I managed to explain everything just before the local officer arrived. During the wait, I saw about 30 missed calls from mom and dad, which I chose to ignore until after the officer had handled the situation. Once he took Chloe into custody and accepted my evidence, it was confirmed she would be charged with a felony for the amount stolen.

The aftermath was just as tough; calling my parents later only led to them scolding me, insisting they could've resolved the money issue quickly and accusing me of ruining Chloe’s life.

Reflecting on the situation, I'm left wondering if standing up for myself was somehow wrong. Especially if this ordeal were part of a reality TV show, imagine the drama that would ensue! Would viewers take my side for enforcing consequences, or would they criticize me for not settling the issue privately within family boundaries?

I don't feel like I have any friends in this life. I feel alone, completely alone, with no one to accompany me. I feel like I'm just going my own way in life, going nowhere. I don't feel good with the people I'm with; I feel hatred, anger, and other negative emotions. I feel like running away from where I am because I feel like everyone is acting like automatons, like completely irrational beings, because they don't consider the consequences of their actions. They live shaping the future, and the worst part is that you can't say anything to them because they understand that's just how they are, as if it were some kind of curse.

I'm with a girl who's there for me, who reciprocates my feelings, for no other reason than guilt, and unfortunately, blatant guilt, because she believed something that only existed in her head about me. I don't feel like anyone else is there for me, not even her friend, whom I also loved very much. I feel like everyone is there for me, that they reciprocate my feelings, for no other reason than because of what they did to me. Under different circumstances, they would all distance themselves from me, precisely to prevent their future mistakes stemming from their prejudices and their own intolerance. I don't feel comfortable where I am and I want to leave, but I don't know where to go, given that I lack the financial means to do so, and besides, I abandoned my career. I feel completely trapped, and everyone is extremely insecure. Nobody trusts anyone, and everyone is focused on maintaining their status. It's obvious that their thoughts are running wild, just like that, trying, in direct ways, at least in my case, to treat me the same as everyone else, when that's not the case, and their hypocrisy goes unseen. What kind of environment am I in? I can't even trust the therapists because they seem imposing and aggressive. They all live in a world completely detached from reality, a world built solely on a few observations and many prejudices.

I don't feel capable of being among them; in fact, I feel like I'm suffocating, like they don't really want me, and it hurts because it's like falling into the same place again. It's the same with this girl, just like with my sister, who was only with me out of sheer guilt for everything she did to me in the past, and who, after having the chance, simply ran away. I feel like I'm relating to her the way I am only so that, the moment she leaves, I won't have any excuse to say anything behind her back. I feel hypocritical, without friends, without affection, and I can't find anyone who can help me in any way. I feel like nobody really takes the world of relationships seriously and acts according to its workings, with caution, but instead they're looking for a completely idealized, unrealistic world. My ex-therapist lives in her own world, absolutely not. The last time I was with her, I went my own way and she went hers, instead of working as a team. What a failure I am as a person. I'm looking for support, help with my life, and for support, a team is essential. However, she doesn't seem to understand that, even though she should, especially since she's a professor at a leading academic institution.

I feel like disappearing. I feel like I'm just a suck-up to the bosses, doing it for the benefit of the other employees, who, in reality, are more like people who crush me in some way, who are jealous of what I've achieved through my honest effort. I feel like none of them can admit they're not earning their living the right way. I don't feel loved, embraced, or even like I'm attractive to women. I haven't had sex in my entire life, not even a girlfriend, and I feel like I'm missing out. For God's sake, I just want a normal life like everyone else. Is that so hard? I want to sleep with a woman, not so much with a man because it's not my thing, and explore her body and have her explore mine, like many people do. I don't want to deviate from the norm, not at all.

I confess that I feel scared by all the new things I'm experiencing, things that are beneficial, wonderful, and pleasant. It's like feeling like the new boss of the place, but it's not easy to leave behind that painful past I came from. I feel like I'm doing well, really well, but seeing that I've achieved this is hard to believe. Indeed, I return to that past in my feelings, but that already shows that I'm leaving it behind, that I have a new life. I needed to express these words. I feel like I sometimes come across as very harsh, of course, I've acted alone, on my own, and therefore I've taken the plunge along with all my fears. Now, I'm seeing them because I no longer use them.

I know it's contradictory to everything I've said before, but I already feel better, more content, more comfortable. I feel like I'm in control now, and that's comforting. The situation with the girl is beneficial; she's like my sister, because there are already reasons for her to get closer, reasons that They are a reason for it, and at the same time, they seem to please her. I feel her becoming more and more open to me, and that pleases me. I confess that before, I spoke in a somewhat different and even seemingly technical language; however, it helps me to use those phrases responsibly in everyday language. I feel comfortable speaking in this way. I feel that I can't tell everyone this. My path has consisted precisely of handling words with prudence, since I know where they come from, and therefore I can now express the facts of what happens to me in a way that others can understand, or at least get an idea of, as happens with everything we share, if we think about it. I feel I have a good therapist; however, I feel we're at odds because I was focused on talking things through completely, while she preferred to act based on specific elements. But this friction is what allows me to see how she works and thus take advantage of her approach. This, in turn, leads me to attend her sessions conscientiously. I won't give her the power to decide whether or not I see her, because I can't entrust any part of my life to anyone.

At least in our work, they are respectful and congruent, to the extent that they can be. Sometimes, I observe that they don't know how to position themselves and get stuck, but that's natural given how cautiously we've always developed our approach; it's not something that's common for them—in fact, it's quite exceptional. I feel like I'm doing well, emerging from a shell, thankfully, where I only saw my past, which I now understand through my own expressions and interpretations. This shell gave me a huge scare; I thought everything was lost and that all my work had been a complete failure. I did all this without a therapist, not because I wanted to—I wish it had been that way—but the person I sought for support became an obstacle to the opposite, in fact, to returning to my old life. Things got to the point where they're no longer even part of my life, precisely because of their overbearing nature. I had to take control of my life and not put it in the hands of an irresponsible person again.

i hate myself because my family doesnt believe i have adhd and mental health problems even through i do have adhd and mental health problems because i am really getting overwelmed really quickly when i have so much do in the household

I'm questioning my worthiness for this position. The thought keeps surfacing that my appointment might have been due to a lack of preferred internal connections for others. What am I supposed to make of these feelings?"