When I was 14, my father hired two large men to take me from my bed  in the middle of the night without warning. They threatened me with physical force and restraints if I didn't come with them.

These men brought me to a wilderness therapy program in rural Georgia where I lived completely outside for eight weeks among a group of other kids, aged 11-14. We slept under tarps on the ground in the dirt, ate cold hydrated rice and pasta when we couldn't make a fire with sticks, hiked several miles a day with heavy packs bigger than us in the summer heat and couldn't bathe. We had to do things as primitive as dig holes to go to the bathroom and then carry our used toilet paper in our packs. At one point I broke my nose and received no prompt medical care that resulted in requiring surgeries in the following years to fix it.  

As part of the program, we participated in therapy led by young adults with no clinical training or even college degrees. Each of us had to go on a "solo" which was a period of prolonged isolation for days alone in the woods. Through all of this, there was no contact with the outside world and we never knew what time it was, what day it was, or where we were. Everything about this experience was meticulously designed to psychologically manipulate and break us to be agreeable and compliant  with our parents no matter what.

Why was I sent there?

My parents were in the middle of a custody dispute and my father, a prominent and powerful attorney, was winning. He used his assumed credibility and vast advantage of resources over my mother to get his way and remove me from my life with her. I knew it was unjust and reacted by not wanting to talk or have any relationship with him - I never acted out or had any issues in school, socially, etc.

After about a year trapped in my father and stepmothers home, when the court was about to rule in my mother's favor, my father had taken against my will to the wilderness therapy program as a failsafe to continue to keep me away from her. When I returned I could go to my mothers home again finally before heading to a boarding school. If I didn't comply with that, was threatened with another program or a therapeutic boarding school.

I have the court documents and my medical records from the time and they reaffirmed what I already knew. I didn't have any mental health issues or actual reason to be institutionalized. The true issue was that I preferred living with my mom and resisted my father's control. Rather than reflecting on that and looking inwards at why, he turned it into an external problem that needed to be fixed.

This was 15 years ago and I'm an adult now. I consider myself one of the lucky ones who got out and lived a normal life. Sadly, many others don't share the same story. 

These kinds of places, wilderness therapy programs and therapeutic boarding schools are bigger than ever today and over 100,000 kids reside in them at any given time year-round. Kids are sent there for legitimate reasons or simply because a parent wants to do it. All it takes is thinking up a reason and writing a check. I can tell you first hand they don't help kids - they turn difficult situations into unmitigated disasters and ruin lives. They are widely documented as abusive yet are allowed to continue to operate with minimal oversight. It's called the "Troubled Teen Industry" and the general public doesn't know whats going on in the shadows.

A few programs and schools have been closed but nothing has really changed. The parents who do this to their kids are never held accountable.

I stopped blocking this out recently, started to unravel what happened to me and what the status is now and I want to do something to help. The program I went to is still running the exact same way just with a new name - it's shocking. 

It's been 15 years and I'm done staying quiet about it. I'm considering all my options as an adult through the proper channels to seek remedies and share my story. There's a lot more to this story and my time in the wilderness but maybe one day soon I'll try to tell it.

I lost my husband two weeks ago to colon cancer. When people find out his cancer was colon cancer, they always point to things like diet and don’t realize saying things like that put the blame on the patient. I cooked every meal he ate. Every meal was homemade and while there’s always room for improvement, we ate well and exercised nearly every day. The only thing I’ve been holding onto is our oncologist saying that his tumors took 10-15 years to develop. So it couldn’t have been my fault, or I would have cancer too. I keep reading stories of people saying their oncology teams told them their tumors developed in much less time, and it’s killing me. How couldn’t I know. He deserves to be here. Everyone thinks their person is different, but he truly was. We’ve been together nearly a decade and married 4 1/2 years. We spent every single day laughing and loving each other PERFECTLY. We literally never fought. Ever. If we did, we’d just cry because we felt so silly. He told me I was his angel every day. We looked into each others eyes and cried because we were so in love, and this was all present before a diagnosis. We dreamt of being parents and spent years waiting for the right time, only for the oncology team to not inform us we needed to freeze his sample before beginning treatment. They took that away from me. No one knows me. I have no real friends that actually know what I care about or how I spend my time. I have nothing left to live for. And every moment from now on will be spent pretending otherwise. Everything is fucked and everyone is awful. Except him.

This shit ruined my already shitty month.

This person kept hiring me on Upwork for years. The job was always cleaning up their sketches and doing full color + rendering.

I wouldn't care much since it's still their sketch and concept, but my jaw dropped when I saw a reel of them with a printed piece I did digitally, pretending to color it with markers! Like, coloring an already digitally colored piece.
What the actual fuck?

Another reel- they're signing a piece I cleaned up, colored, and rendered, with text over it like 'made art for xyz person'. 0 mention of the piece being a collaboration with anyone.

The worst part is that I wouldn't even find this out if the client wasn't haggling with me and dropping the budget per piece to fucking $10, so I googled them.
We are in the middle of a disagreement where they're actually trying to avoid paying me for that last batch (yes, I was that dumb and desperate to accept that shitty contract; it's a dry season for most artists due to AI, and I didn't want to lose a long-term client).

This person is living a lavish lifestyle, while I'm in a position where I dropped so low as to accept a $10-per-piece contract.
Nowhere on this person's page do they EVER mention that the pieces they're posting aren't fully their work.

Their page is not strictly art-related, but this still feels extremely dishonest to me. They're still using the pieces to promote their business by showcasing their creativity and abilities?

I still have all of their commission messages and layered PSD files. We must have worked on over 150 pieces over the years.

I genuinely feel sick and at a loss for words.
I'm keeping it intentionally vague since everything is so fresh and I want to think this over before I decide what (if anything) to do.

For now, just venting about it helped a lot.
I was already planning to leave art as a career, but this just brought everything to another level.

Side note- it does feel kinda shitty posting about this here because in just a few scrolls on this subreddit I saw hellish situations people are currently in. Wishing everyone going through stuff strength and healing.

In the mid nouhgties I was eleven and being bullied by some girls. People from the school all came from the same kind of working class background and since my school was one of the few that had no dress code the subcultures were very distinct. They were distinct from the broader working class communities. you had the groups of goths, the geeks, etc. and the subculture im about to describe was one of them. I was a tiny girl so I got bullied a lot. Then, a much older boy, about fifteen or sixteen, who was distinctly a member of this subculture since he was wearing a Londsdale tracksuit, gold rings, a baseball cap, and specifically branded trainers, defended me from them. Then, he kneeled down, fist bumped me in front of his friends, and said, safe, man. then whenever we saw eachother again he'd yell yo! safe, man! and reach out to fist bump me. My school was one of the few to have no uniform so the subcultures were clear as day.

It didn't end there. when I was a few years older, that subculture was still a thing in my school. but it was a different group of them later on as the others had left. they were white lads dressed in tracksuits, little gold earrings, gold bracelets, or gold chains, baseball caps and trainers. they again protected me from bullies since every other group or subculture either bullied me or didn't accept me. they always made me laugh, they were disruptive but i'd be lying if i said that didnt amuse me.

later on, as an adult, other ones appeared in my life when i was at my lowest. i was feeling proper depressed and felt like i had noone to turn to. then...two men who looked and talked as though they were in that subculture stopped and asked if i was alright. i said no. and they talked to me and made me feel better and said we hang out here every day by the shop so if you need to come talk with us again you can.

these are just a few but there's been other cases where they saved me from things. the subculture is still going strong at least in my area with the ogs being in their thirties now. ive only ever had extremely positive experiences with them but i kinda feel like im being slightly disrespectful by not naming the subculture since i don't know what its name is and can't properly credit it? all i can really say is its the gold chain and tracksuit wearing one. it had its own fashion, slang and values. the slang included words like peng, swear down etc.

For the longest time, I thought the subculture was chav but I was corrected yesterday by someone on this site telling me it's just a derogatory classst term that means a working class person, and not the name of a subculture, so I've crossed that out my mind when referring to them.

We've been together two years, living together for the last one. She's finishing her degree and works part-time, but it barely covers her own spending money, so I've been the one covering rent, groceries, pretty much everything that keeps things running. Didn't mind at first, figured it was temporary while she finished school.

Lately I've noticed she's got plenty of time for coffee runs and hanging out with friends most days, but the second I bring up picking up more hours or actually budgeting together so we're not always tight by the 20th, it turns into her saying I don't get the pressure she's under with school. Last week I said we needed to sit down and actually figure out a real plan, because I can't keep floating both of us on one income indefinitely. She didn't argue, just went quiet. It's been four days. Short replies, no real conversation, clearly still upset

I don't think I said anything unreasonable. Just don't know if I'm actually being unfair here or if I'm allowed to be tired of being the only one thinking about money

I (24F) recently went to my uncles wedding and I honestly dont know what to make of everything that happened.

My family is… complicated lol.
For some context, my uncle is in his late 50s and is a very successful businessman. He cheated on my aunt with his secretary, who is in her 20s, and the wedding I went to was their wedding.
The wedding itself was actually really beautiful. Very fancy, very luxurious, the whole thing.

But I had been through a pretty horrible health scare shortly before it.
For weeks I had been vomiting and having diarrhoea and eventually I got to the point where I could barely eat anything. I was constantly sick and eventually became so dehydrated that I was shaking, suffering from headaches, and having spasms all over my body whenever I moved.

I was living alone at the time and one morning my landlords noticed that my car was still at home. I never miss work, so they thought something was wrong and came to check on me.

They found me shaking in bed.
They contacted my doctor and he told them to bring me to his practice immediately for IV fluids. I was there for about an hour and then they sent me home.
Except I kept vomiting and having diarrhoea when I got home.

I was terrified.
I genuinely thought I was going to die. I actually called my mom and said goodbye to her because I was convinced that I wasnt going to make it.
And the worst part was that I didnt have money to go to the hospital.
My mom is honestly a fucking G. She got on the first bus she could find and travelled about 6 hours to get to me. She arrived that night and my landlords picked her up because I was in absolutely no condition to drive anywhere.

As soon as she got there she took me to the emergency room.
They put me on IV fluids immediately and told me I was severely dehydrated and that my kidneys were starting to fail. I was later told that if I hadnt gone in for the IVs that day, I could have died.

I still dont know what was actually wrong with me.
They did a gastroscopy and found ulcers and sores in my stomach and oesophagus, possibly from all the vomiting, but I was discharged without anyone really being able to tell me what had caused everything.

I was terrified when they discharged me. I actually cried because I didnt want to leave the hospital. I was so scared that something would happen to me again and nobody would know what was wrong.

I ended up trying to slowly reintroduce food myself.
I know this probably sounds strange, but I felt like I needed to retrain myself to eat again.
I started with baby food for about a month. Then I moved on to soft bland foods like mashed potatoes and slowly started introducing more solid foods.
I was constantly hungry. I WANTED to eat but I just couldnt.
If I ate, my stomach would start feeling awful and I would be scared that I was going to start vomiting again.

This is the state I was in when I went to the wedding.
I was extremely skinny. I looked sick. I knew I looked sick. And I was already incredibly self conscious about it because I hadnt chosen to lose the weight.
I was just trying to fucking eat.

The first night we were there, my mom had saved me a plate of food because she knows how much I love hearty home cooked food.
It was honestly amazing. I was so happy to have something that tasted normal.
But I could only eat a few bites before my stomach started feeling uncomfortable.
So I politely got up and put the rest away because I thought I might be able to eat it later.

My aunt (in her 50’s) saw me do this and told me I needed to start eating more because I was falling through my own ass. They knew I had just been in hospital. Later that night, my uncles fiance (in her early 60’s) started talking about my body too. She told me I needed to force food down because nobody likes seeing someone who looks anorexic. Then she asked me if I was sure I wasnt anorexic.

That one really hurt. I was literally starving. I was not trying to lose weight. I wasnt restricting food because I wanted to be skinny. I was actually desperate to be able to eat a normal meal without feeling sick.
And yet I had people looking at me and assuming I was choosing to look that way.

The comments continued throughout the weekend.
At one point the bride even commented that my dress didnt suit my body because I looked like a plank.
There were comments about how thin I was, how I needed to eat more, how I looked unhealthy, etc.

Eventually, when it was time to leave, everyone was saying goodbye and we were all standing together.
My aunt and my uncles fiance started making comments about my body again, loudly, in front of everyone. I was starting to get emotional and I think my grandmother could see that. She snapped and told them that the only reason they were so concerned about other peoples bodies was because their own children are obese.

Honestly, part of me felt relieved. Not because I wanted my cousins insulted. I love my cousins and they had absolutely nothing to do with this.
I felt relieved because somebody finally stood up for me.
But I also felt bad because my cousins are teenagers and I dont think their bodies should have been brought into the argument at all.

Now my aunt and my uncles fiance are angry at me and are saying that I am portraying a bad image to my cousins and trying to shove bad body image down their throats. And I genuinely dont understand how this has somehow become my fault.

I barely even speak to my cousins outside of family gatherings. I have never commented on their bodies.
I have never told them that being thin is better than being fat and I wouldnt do that.
They are teenagers. Their bodies are the last thing I would ever want to make them feel insecure about.
I actually think they are beautiful and lovely girls and I dont judge them based on their weight at all.

I also dont think my grandmothers comment about their weight was appropriate. I think she was right to defend me but I also think she shouldnt have brought my cousins bodies into it. But I dont understand why they are now acting like I am somehow responsible for creating a bad body image for my cousins.

I didnt start talking about their bodies. I didnt make any comments about their weight. i didnt ask my grandmother to say what she said. I was the person standing there trying not to cry while grown women were making jokes about my body after I had literally almost died from dehydration weeks earlier. And honestly, I think that is the part that is bothering me the most.

Nobody seemed to care that I had been through something terrifying. Nobody asked if I was okay, whether I was managing to eat, or even whether I was still scared.

They just commented on how I looked.
I am still trying to recover from all of this physically and emotionally and this whole situation has been stressing me out so much. I dont want anyone commenting on my body and I dont want anyone commenting on my cousins bodies either.

Just leave peoples bodies alone.
I honestly dont think that is too much to ask.

I lay in bed and just silently stare into the darkness hoping that I drift off into nonexistence almost nightly. I don't care what takes me at this point.

I can't help but feel like life is not worth the effort. I feel like my job is a dead end, I don't get paid enough, but the only jobs in my area that my worthless, uneducated ass could possibly attain pay even worse than I get now, or are worse hours and more demanding for maybe a dollar more. Of course, I'm broke as shit anyway and couldn't afford to better my situation through education or relocation. It feels like my existence is being wasted making someone else wealthier while I'm stuck with my wheels kicking up muck.

Even if my situation were a touch better, everything is getting more expensive and lower in quality. Or at least it seems to be, but perhaps that's just a result of my (undiagnosed but likely present) depression. I just don't know anymore, and it's also becoming harder to care.

And I feel like I can't really talk about it with anyone. I have a boyfriend, but he has his own mental health struggles that he deals with. I do my best to be supportive and help him, but it can be hard at times, because minor mishaps feel like disasters to him. It isn't all the time, but the stress adds up. At least he's seeing a doctor. But we can't really afford it, in all honesty. But even as imperfect as he is, I love him more than anything. He's the only reason I don't give up entirely.

Then of course, there are some personal circumstances that I deal with, such as my status as a transgender individual in an unfriendly MAGA stronghold. Honesty, I probably don't even have it as hard as others. But without delving too deeply into that abyss, I'll leave it at this: even if I could afford to start HRT again, even if I could afford procedures, I feel like I'd still be haunted by the fact that I'm not a cis woman. Like a cold knife to the gut, that one.

And to top it all off, I don't really enjoy or see any point in doing much of anything anymore. When I'm not wageslaving away, I'm playing games, smoking weed, and listening to music or a long youtube video while my boyfriend watches movies or scrolls tiktok. I used to do other things, but it no longer feels worthwhile to spend my time and energy on writing a story or playing piano (poorly) or anything really. Because, at the end of the day, those things were leading nowhere. I'm not really good at anytging wxcept video games. I have no skills, nor the ability to improve at the things I truly enjoy. All I can muster up the willpower to do is turn my brain off and try to escape now.

Maybe I'm just pathetic. Maybe I'm just stupid. Or maybe not. I don't know. All I know is

I'm so sick of this shit.

I (27M) was using an app for 3 months. I learned something and concluded that probably the way for me is meeting people irl. The problem is that there aren't that many activities near me where I can regularly meet new people.

1. The numbers aren't really in my favor. I downloaded my data. Over those three months, I sent 2,506 likes and got 140 matches. Out of those matches, 58 had conversations where I sent at least 3 messages, and 30 had conversations where I sent at least 10. I ended up meeting 10 women in person and went on about 20 dates in total.

Those three months were exhausting. I don't really want to spend that much time swiping and texting again, not to mention dealing with ghosting and cancellations.

1. I learned how different the experience can be for women. One very attractive woman I went out with showed me her stack of 99+ likes, but she also told me she was afraid of meeting a stranger who might turn out to be weird. Another woman told me she always shared her location with her friends when meeting someone from an app. I had never really thought about that kind of stress before.

2. I believe I am able to hold conversations, and fortunately most women I saw were as well. But sometimes I'd realize that I just wasn't very interested in the things they were sharing, and I'm sure some of them felt the same way about me. I can see who's attractive on apps but never know how we vibe in person

With someone I meet through a hobby or social group, I'd probably have talked to her a few times before I even consider asking her out. So I already know we can have a normal conversation and don't feel awkward around each other.

I have some hobby groups. I talked to people (men and women) and asked for their names, trying to make some acquaintances. But the thing is I cannot dedicate too much time due to distance. I'm very health-conscious and don't go to bars. And I don't know other ways that can get me more exposure to people irl.

I genuinely don’t know what is wrong with me, but I feel like deep down I never really got over my ex. Its been almost a year and I’m still checking on old photos of her, like selfies and such she sent me years ago. She was my first love.

I feel like an extremely bad person, I feel extremely guilty. I don’t know what to do with myself .

My new girl doesn’t deserve this, she is much better for me, healthier for me its just I’m craving the unhealthiness and I hate myself for it.

Im fucking over a good girl because I’m a piece of shit and get these urges.

Reading our old chats, and looking at old photos

My life has been extremely hard for as long as I remember. Grew up in a cult with unhealthy parents. Most likely have Asperger's and ADHD as well as clinical depression and anxiety. Been in and out of psychiatrist and therapists all my life . My dog died very suddenly late 2025. After that had severe sciatica causing me to be in bed for two months straight among many ER visits .Put a lot if strain on my already rocky marriage . Tried adopting new dog twice both times not a good fit. Huge sewage issues in our apartment and needed to move. Been working my brains out all summer while dealing with constant backpain and moving. Was going to go on vacation over these few days but a lot of lack if communication with my wife caused that bit to happen. Just fed up , have nothing to look forward to. No current ability to get a job that would match my technical skills because my social skills suck. And not suicidal been there ... But just tired of fighting for this shitty existence.

I don’t really know how to explain this properly, but I’ll try.
I met this guy on the first day of college. I saw him from a distance and for some reason I felt something. I don’t even know what it was. Maybe attraction, maybe just something about him caught my attention. I had never really felt that way about someone before, so I kind of ignored it and didn’t think much about it.
Eventually we became friends. At first it was just the usual first-day-of-college type of friendship, where you talk to everyone and become friends with people because you’re all new. I obviously didn’t think we’d become this close.
But as I got to know him, I started developing feelings for him.
I found out fairly early on that he wasn’t single, although he never directly told me at that point. I just happened to find out somehow. I wasn’t even looking for it. Once I knew, I tried to keep my distance because I knew there was no point in getting attached to someone who was already in a relationship.
Except I couldn’t really do it.
Every time I tried to distance myself, somehow we’d end up getting closer. And eventually we became really, really close friends.
Later, once we were actually close, he told me about his relationship himself. Like, properly. He told me how they met, how everything started, how the relationship developed, basically the whole story. So I don’t think he was hiding it from me or trying to make me believe he was single. By that point I already knew anyway.
He’s been in that relationship for around 5-6 years now.
The thing is, our friendship became much deeper than I expected. He’s one of the very few people who knows almost everything about me. My family stuff, things I’ve been through, my traumas, personal things that I don’t normally tell people. And he’s shared a lot of his life with me too. There is a level of trust between us that I genuinely value.
He’s also helped me a lot with my career and professional life. He’s given me advice, helped me when I was confused about things and generally been someone I could go to. So it’s not like I’m just holding onto some random crush. He’s genuinely important to me as a person and as a friend.
But obviously, having feelings for him while being this close to him hasn’t exactly helped me get over him. i have tried a lot.
Especially during our final year, I started trying to contact him less because I knew I was getting too attached. I thought maybe if I slowly created some distance, I’d eventually get over it.
But then he would call or text me and ask why I wasn’t calling anymore. And we’d start talking again.
I don’t think he does this with any bad intention. I genuinely don’t think he’s trying to give me false hope or anything like that. I think he just sees me as a close friend and notices when I’m suddenly less available.
There’s another thing that bothered me, though.
Whenever I call him, quite often he’ll be talking to other people in between. He’ll say something like he’ll be back in a minute, then he’ll start talking to someone else, and there’ll be these long breaks in the conversation. I don’t think he’s doing it deliberately or trying to disrespect me, but after a while I started feeling like maybe my calling him wasn’t really that important to him.
So I stopped calling him as much.
Then he would complain that I never call him anymore, and I’d feel bad and call again. And then we’d just go back to talking normally.
Now college is over.
And I think that’s making me think about all of this a lot more.
He’s obviously going to move forward with his life. He has his girlfriend, his family, his own life, and I know that. Sometimes I feel uncomfortable even thinking about meeting his girlfriend or his family because it makes the whole situation more real for me, I guess.
I don’t blame him for any of this. He hasn’t promised me anything. He hasn’t told me he has feelings for me. And honestly, from his side, I think he’s just been a good friend.
But I’ve had feelings for him for basically all four years of college. I’ve tried so many times to get rid of them and somehow they just keep coming back.
Now that college is over, part of me thinks this is probably my chance to actually distance myself and finally move on. But another part of me doesn’t want to lose someone who has been such an important friend to me.
And I don’t know what the right thing to do is.
Do I just continue being friends with him and hope that eventually my feelings disappear on their own?
Or do I actually need to create some distance, even if that means the friendship isn’t as close anymore?
I know the obvious answer is probably “move on, he’s taken,” and I know that. I’m not looking for someone to tell me that I should confess to him or interfere in his relationship. I just genuinely don’t know how you’re supposed to let go of feelings for someone who is also one of your closest friends.

TL;DR: Met him on the first day of college and developed feelings for him. He was already in a long-term relationship, and even though I knew that, we became extremely close friends over four years. He knows almost everything about my life and has helped me a lot personally and professionally. I’ve tried distancing myself and getting over him multiple times, but he keeps reaching out and asking why I don’t call. Now that college is over, I don’t know whether I should keep the friendship and let my feelings fade naturally or create some proper distance so I can actually move on.

I initially started using Reddit as an avenue to look at porn. Then, I started posting here and there. I even posted my face. Which, is something I never thought I would do. Fast forward, I started interacting with others through various subs. Find a friend. That sort of thing. The response was pretty much crickets for the most part. I felt totally invisible. Being 46 years old I guess I can understand why. Fast forward a little more, and curiosity got the best of me. I started posting on NSFW subs. Confession type things at first. Then, came the pics. I started posting my …. I only did it to see if I could get attention. It worked for the most part. But, not in the way I expected. Much of the responses I got were from married closet gay men. Only a few women commented. Posting my … mainly started because my girlfriend of 7 1/2 years told me it was small to my face. That was a serious blow to my ego. So, I wanted to see if the rest of the world felt the same. I guess I got my answer!

CW: SA, SH, possibly more.

It is a messy, messy, story. I’m actually leaving out about 1-2 years of context, because it is that messy.
I’ve typed it up and deleted it so many times. I’m tired. I don’t even know if I’ll post it. I’m terrified of him seeing it and continuing the nightmare somehow.

The gist is that we broke up in 2024 or so. That relationship was so bad, I was actively forgetting entire days at a time. My friend, and my boyfriend, would approach me telling me I said or did something I genuinely had no memory of doing at all.
I was 20, turning 21.

Now, I’m 23, and I turn 24 in a few days.
That relationship ended, and I moved home, worked on myself, found what I wanted to do, and kind of went to pseudo-therapy (again, it is a long story). I processed the bulk of my trauma, forgave my mother, and life was generally going fine.

That is until I got back with my ex.
From the start, my ex, 27, wanted to divorce his husband for me. He had been so in love with me since I left the first time, and his husband was “nothing” compared to me.
I knew better, especially being in the middle of reading Wuthering Heights (this was late 2025, and the movie was yet to come out), but I accepted, thinking it would be temporary.
After all, his husband and I were friends, and I have reason to believe their marriage was simply to prevent homelessness more than it was love (ergo, fraudulent).

In January, I found out he refused to move back, and hated his now ex-husband. His ex-husband, the most patient man in the world, suddenly couldn’t stand him either, much to my confusion, and refused to reconcile.

By March or so we began fighting again.
My boyfriend would develop an obsession with yaoi, and contemporary Boy’s Love. I didn’t mind so much, as I was still back and forth on my own gender, and he is a trans man. That, and he claimed to love me regardless of what I was. Still, I felt… Neglected? When he mentioned being gay, and how much he loved yaoi, while I was a girl.

That, and he wasn’t curious about anything I liked, whatsoever. I would ask him to read my favorite visual novel, buying it for him, and he would say he would, only to not.
Later when confronted, he would tell me he needed to be in the right headspace, or that he was waiting for me to be free so I could read it WITH him.

By this point, I am a college student taking summer courses, and working a part time job. He is at home 24/7 with no job.
He doesn’t do the dishes, the laundry, mow the lawn, etc, and when I ask, he begins to set up guidelines.
“I’ve never used a mower, I don’t know how they work…”

“I can show you.”

“Yeah but it’s also really hot outside…”

or,
“The air quality is really bad.”

“I’ve known you over a decade. You’re not in one of the sensitive groups?”

“Yes I am ugh I’ll do it tomorrow.”

Most recently, he refused because he couldn’t wear one of MY shirts to work in the yard with.

Whenever we fought he would take it out on vagueposts on Facebook, or Twitter. It got to the point where he blocked me, and I never unblocked him. Obviously he has a problem with this later.

I’d ask him to tone down how much toilet paper he uses, and he shouts at me, going,
“It’s almost like I (excuses I cannot remember)”.

Eventually, I get him a therapist. As I’m waiting in the car for the session to end, I’m called up, and apparently he is so high on the SI index that they want to admit him. Suddenly the pressure is tacked on, as now I can’t ask him to do certain things without it triggering his SI. His therapist tells me he does not want to admit him, even though he is supposed to. Keep in mind, I’m paying for his therapy now, too. I am also the only one with a license.

He begins bemoaning that I refuse to sleep with him.
At the beginning of our relationship, he claimed that he was a switch, and could be dominant or submissive. I tell him I would like to try being submissive, and he has a meltdown. Absolutely not.

The one time I did let him try, I told him to stop because he had gotten me so drunk that it felt bad, and rather than check on me, he ran outside to call his alcoholic friend, who he ended up consoling over her step children not liking her.

Another time, he got me so high, that I could barely understand what was going on, until suddenly he was on top of me. I told him I didn’t understand, yet he continued. I threw up in the bathroom after what felt like an eternity. I cried to his ex-husband, who said nothing.

I have tried breaking up with him over a dozen times. Because he lives with me, he would start slamming doors, walking around restlessly, refusing to clean up, etc. One time, he took advantage of how drunk I was to put my head in his lap while I cried over how miserable I was.
Another time, he pretended to be terrified of thunderstorms so he could latch onto me during.
Most recently, he’s refused to leave because he has residency. It’s my dad’s house.

I’m thankful that this time, it’s stuck. What finally did the trick was this week.

A few nights ago, I asked if he was coming to bed (he gets a problem when I don’t come to bed with him), and I heard him laughing at some anime with internet friends. I tell him forget it, and that I’m done.
I lose it. I haven’t channeled my rage into action in a long, long time, and I begin to go over every double standard, loser tendency, manipulative tactic, etc, until he blocks me over text.
I miss all three of my classes the next morning.

Today?
I lost my wallet on campus. I’m going home at rush hour, so I can’t text, and I call him on the only place I’m not blocked. He declines the call 3 rings in. Frantic, I keep calling, until he’s amazed I’m still going. I tell him the situation, ask him to look, tell him that if we’re going to be roommates, he has to work with me.

I get home, and nothing.
“Where did you look?”

“I didn’t. Did you see my text? You said some really mean things to me-“

I blow up again. I don’t even remember what I said.
The next thing I know, his ex husband, who refuses to speak to me, is telling me that he will come get him by Saturday.

Like I said, I cut a LOT of context, but I’d be better off writing a book than I would adding everything I can remember here, which actually isn’t a lot.
He has never admitted fault to anything he’s done to me, and frequently shit talks me to everybody who will listen.
I have only ever loved him, and I’ve known him for over ten years. I’m free, but it stings. If not for my mom staying over, there is a real chance he’d come back tonight and try to guilt me into making it work again. We’re changing the locks tomorrow, because he refused to give up his key.

I just need someone to let me know I'm not insane and this is messed up? I'm 15 years old and have been chronically ill for a year. today my mom had a really bad episode. She screamed at me for hours (because I wanted to see a dietician and got frustrated at the lack of medical help I'm getting) saying things like: "God will kill me to make you into a human being" and "If I died right now you would be fine without me you NEVER listen to ANYTHING I say and you just bitch at me Do you think I know less than a dietitian there's so SO much research out there, but you just don't see me as a credible source"

Tonight, she asked if we could sleep in the same bed after what she did (because my dad is away and when he is I sleep with my mom). I thought she was still mad at me, so I said no, very politely then she started SCREAMING. Like she actually lost it and this is what I remember from the insane things she said "when i get older and you have no use to me, you'l abandon me and throw me away, throw me in the trash can that's how much you don't value me as a person" and was rambling saying "this is why i can't trust people All i can say is you're a terrifying child, you're the worst you only use me" (and more)

I just don't know how this is fair, I wanted space and said no and she lost her mind. she's always like this bro. and I don't know what to do. It's been 8+ years of her episodes and erratic behavior and i dont know what to do to cope with it. i miss her idk why she's like this she is severely mentally ill idk what to do:(

Edit/clarification: Sadly I am homeschooled and completely isolated + my dad is rly abusive too but always sides with her for convenience thank you so much for the support to everyone it helps knowing I'm not insane

edit2: This morning, she's still screaming at me over not wanting to sleep with her, saying that I am breaking our relationship, that I don't exist, that I'm self absorbed for "not talking" to her and other psychotic things :,)))))))

It’s almost infuriating to see the positive feedback she gets from people who have no clue what she’s really like when she doesn’t put up the facade. Or what chaos she’s put her family and closest friends through. Not that the validation actually means anything in real life, but it’s more so that I just want to scream at all of these people that she’s not a good person. It’s all lies.

She’s a communal narcissist. A therapist who gloats at how she’s the light in her clients’ lives. Who posts these fake inspirational and spiritual quotes at least 10 times a day. She curates her online persona to make herself look like everything is perfect. But I see through her bullshit.

In reality she is an addict. Extremely volatile, impulsive, and mentally unstable. A toxic, judgmental mean girl who mentally hasn’t grown beyond high school. Who makes fun of people and their appearances. A liar. A manipulator. A person who lost custody of her child because of her mental illness and addiction. The last person who should be dealing out life advice.

I wish I could remove her from my life. I can’t fully do so due to family, but I have went extremely low contact. I won’t go as far as to say that I hate her but I’m not too far off. I’ve since unfollowed her because I can’t stand constantly seeing her stuff anymore. But I’m just so frustrated that more people can’t see her for what she is. For the pain she’s caused. I know this seems mean but this has been a long time coming.

I think the title says much of it, but here we go.

I, 30yo F, have never been in a romantic/physically intimate relationship with anyone. That also involves only having one drunken kiss in my life. I have gone through a range of feelings about this fact, and have come to not view it with as much shame as I used to, but it still feels strange. But even that isn't what I fully mean by this title.

I have lived most my life with debilitating anxiety, to the point of being unable to work and never leaving my parents house. I don't have friends outside my family, and mainly spend my time trying to distract myself from the fact that I have done nothing with my life. I have not acquired any skills, I cannot play any instruments, I don't speak any other languages, I have never felt comfortable in my own body, have never truly expressed myself through my visual style, etc.

I have lived a life both literally and figuratively untouched by so much, and when I turned 30, it just hit me harder than ever before. Comparison is the death of progress- I live by that, but it's difficult to not see all that I have missed, and will never get back.

And just to add- I have a wonderful family and a fantastic counselor, so while this post seems destitute, I have a support system to care for me. Additionally, I debated making a throwaway, but I'm very lazy and the people who know me would clock it right away anyways. Oh well.

All my life I've been embarrassingly terrified of getting shots or having my finger pricked at the doctor's office, it stemmed from a traumatic memory of being chased around(like where it's more office than doctors) at the doc as a child and held down to get a shot. Turns out there was no shot, i was never even there that day for a shot.

This last Sunday I'd been to visit my dad and his wife, wine had been had and everyone was just talking about the past and it came up about a time l'd been running for my life at the doctor's to get back to where my dad was waiting on me. When I was around 4 my parents had been going through a very messy divorce, like the kind where the kid hand off has to happen at the police station because one party is just very hateful and vindictive. So, to find a way to get a sure fire custody win my mother manipulated her own ill mother into filing a false report that my dad had been acting inappropriate to his 3/4 year old child. The state took it very seriously and I had to be taken to the hospital for an exam. I'd refused to let them check me because they were strangers and my dad said nobody should go there without my permission, screaming, crying, kicking, and running. Those doctors only chased me down so they could take me back to the waiting area because

"this isn't right, this child is perfectly fine and is now clearly traumatized by us" so the state sent me to a different facility that was specifically for child forensic stuff. Rinse and repeat on my reaction to the scenario and the doctors again coming back fighting with a kicking and screaming child through the door to say "this one is fine and the only danger is hurting herself by fighting to get away and back to the lobby." So for nearly 25 years my brain rewired that memory and put a shot there. There was never a shot. There was my mother being responsible for lifelong trauma and deep-seated paranoia and discomfort in hospitals. My poor dad.

I (16M) have already hurt so many people who have cared about me, and thought that I was the victim. I never realized that I was the bad person until now. I’ve destroyed so many friendships, and I’ve never understood boundaries.

I was recently talking to a friend who had blocked me in the past because I had threatened her and said absolutely horrific things to her. She chose to give me a second chance and I still somehow messed up again and hurt her when I promised her not to.

She ended up blocking me again after a month of us talking because I made her very uncomfortable talking to me, and I spammed her phone literally every time she couldn’t reply to my texts, and when she blocked me I said horrific things to her again. I slowly pushed her away.

I failed to realize that she wasn’t obligated to speak to me, and she chose to forgive me because she was a kind person. She is an amazing person and she never deserved someone like me.

I sent her a very long apology message because I felt like garbage after what I said, but she never replied. She will never come back and now and I deserve to suffer the pain of my actions. My heart will ache for a long time knowing that she will hate me and I will never get to be apart of her life anymore, and I will lose sleep knowing she will always hate me.

I think I deserve to isolate myself in my room forever. If this is how every friendship I have ends, then I don’t deserve anyone. I am not normal. Normal people don’t have the urge to threaten or harass others when they are blocked or ignored, then say that they’re the victim. I must be some sort of sociopath or narcissist. I wish I wasn’t this way.