Memorial dad birthday poem

My(23F) little sister(21F) started making her own songs after not really doing anything for years and living off my parents money. I’m honestly happy for her she finally found her way in life and is doing something she is passionate about, and I think her songs sound amazing! The thing is, I’m in university studying to become a vet. It’s a lot of hard work and I love it, but I had to put a lot on hold to be able to do it. I have played piano for over 15 years now, and I used to compose my own songs. I also used to write poems often to manage my emotions and I wrote short stories that I posted online, and actually did really well. I haven’t been able to put much time in it for the past few years, but I’m still jamming sometimes and improvising on the piano, and I still plan on publishing a book sometime that I’ve been working on on and off. My sister never played an instrument until 1 year ago, and still mostly sings. She didn’t really write,apart from one time where she wrote a book in an old diary with pictures in it which she did because I had written a book for a competition and she got excited too. That wouldn’t matter at all, if not for the fact that my mom now brags about my sister constantly and how she was always ‘the creative one’ and how it makes sense that she ended up doing this as she was always the one doing creative stuff and writing as a kid. How everyone has different qualities and now she has ‘one creative daughter and one that’s in university’. I know it’s petty of me, but it really rubs me the wrong way. I used to be the one that made songs, wrote stories, poems. I even got to read one in front of the school after it won in a school contest. The fact I’m not doing that right now doesn’t mean that that’s not my hobby, or not something I like to do. My dad even mentioned it to my mom, saying my sister really wasn’t that into music or writing and it was me that did all those things as a kid. She brushed it off and keeps bringing up that one book my sister wrote and her playing music games on the ipad. Again, I honestly am glad she found something she likes doing, but I hate how this is now ‘her’ thing and all the stuff I did is non-existent, except my academic career. She always used to copy me as a kid and wanted to do everything I did, every single sport I was in and hobby I had. My mom found it cute and encouraged her, and it ended up always becoming ‘her’ thing instead of a hobby I or both of us did. It just makes me sad how even as adults, I’m denied of any of my own hobbies just because she does them now. Even now, apart from this I picked up crocheting and my moms first reaction was to teach my sister too, because she also wants to do it now.

1. Renga:

- *Definition:* A collaborative form of Japanese poetry, alternating three and two-line stanzas. - *Example:* Collaborate with a friend to create a renga exploring the changing seasons. 

1. Prose Poetry:

- *Definition:* Poetry written in prose form, blurring the lines between poetry and prose. - *Example:* Write a prose poem capturing the essence of a vivid dream or memory. 

1. Concrete Poetry:

- *Definition:* Poems that visually resemble their subject matter, often taking on unique shapes. - *Example:* Create a concrete poem reflecting the theme of unity or disintegration. 

1. Narrative Poetry:

- *Definition:* Poems that tell a story, often with characters and a plot. - *Example:* Craft a narrative poem based on a personal experience or fictional tale. 

1. Pastoral:

- *Definition:* Poetry idealizing rural life, nature, and simplicity. - *Example:* Write a pastoral poem celebrating the beauty of a countryside landscape. 

1. Elegy:

- *Definition:* A poem mourning the loss of someone or something. - *Example:* Compose an elegy reflecting on the passage of time and the inevitability of change. 

1. Aubade:

- *Definition:* A morning poem often focused on the parting of lovers at dawn. - *Example:* Write an aubade exploring the tender moments before sunrise. 

1. Ekphrastic:

- *Definition:* Poetry inspired by or describing a work of art. - *Example:* Craft an ekphrastic poem in response to a painting or sculpture you admire. 

1. Found Poetry:

- *Definition:* Creating poetry by rearranging existing texts or found materials. - *Example:* Create a found poem using newspaper headlines or fragments of a novel. 

1. Epigram:

- *Definition:* A brief, witty, and often satirical poem. - *Example:* Write an epigram commenting humorously on a contemporary social issue. 

As somebody who lives with an incurable lymphoma (and has now for 8 years, having gone through 3 failed treatments already, the fourth now, a clinical trial with a median effective rate of 18 months, where I am now), my life has been so tremendously affected by lymphoma but it seems like nobody gets it.
Add COVID into things and how so many of our lives were impacted by that, and now the aftermath of pretending like there’s this pulmonary/cardiovascular disease out there that doesn’t exist, and I’m just tired.
I’m a dad, husband, son and brother. The sole breadwinner in my family in a high pressure job that now, and for the last four years, works from home. When I’m around crowds of people, I usually get sick, so I pick and choose moments when I’ll do that.
Thanksgiving gave me a “cold” for a month. My niece’s birthday in January, sick for another month. I then got something in March (tested COVID negative but had major body pain, particularly the lower back) and was sick for weeks. Took the kids to Disney in April so they could experience some normalcy (BTW- they’re 9 and 11 and don’t know that I have “cancer” because that equals dying to them) and then had a “cold” for weeks thereafter and now have shingles for the last 3 weeks. My parents are boomer Trumpers. My siblings “don’t want to make their lives more difficult” so avoid being emotionally honest with them about anything, effectively making me their emotional scapegoat for my living with cancer and being a detriment to all.
It’s such a f-ing drain emotionally. My condition, Waldenstrom’s, is one that’s “highly treatable” but typically affects people 65 and older. I’m now 48 and this has been the most mentally and physically taxing experience of my life, but the biggest part of it is that nobody (except for my wonderful wife) truly understands.
I feel like I constantly have to explain why I WFH, why I need people to be honest about whether they have “colds” or “allergies” and would prefer not to be around people who don’t know/don’t care. Why my focus is on ME and MY family and not my parents, siblings, anybody else.
I don’t trust anybody more than I trust myself any more but am tired of having to battle everybody and everything. I don’t see a light at the end of the tunnel… to me, it’s a black cloud in the distance that inevitably ends in sadness and heartbreak for me, my wife and my kids.
My biggest breakdown came when my doctor wrote “Stage IV lymphoplasmacytic lymphoma” in my chart after two failed years of chemo and as I was sobbing said to me “but that’s what this is.” My response “but you never spelled it out like that.” Seeing those words changed something in me.
I’ve had therapists/seen psychiatrists. At one time I was diagnosed with depression secondary to anxiety (delayed onset as the result of the diagnosis they called it) because when asked the question “do you see this coming to an end,” I answered “no. There is no end to this.”
Beyond a cure, I KNOW I am not wrong. I’m also not particularly hopeless in the sense that I see the world as terrible. I don’t. The world can be wonderful. I love my wife and kids. But…
What am I missing about my reality that everybody seems to think I’m getting things wrong and I feel the need to constantly defend myself?
I feel like I’m being gaslit to the ultimate degree about how I SHOULD feel. About my dysfunctional family dynamics. About the end game for my health.
Treatment options ARE running out. Chemo DOES f-ck me up. My immune system DOES function poorly.
I’d have to be the eternal Pollyanna optimist to think this is all going to end well for me and, I know I’m not that.
Just venting. Nobody gets it. Nobody beyond my wife. But, I also don’t want her to have to be on this train until it crashes into the ground, which it will eventually. Sooner? Later? Who knows. Just sucks to feel like a lemon. I thought life would get better in my 40s. But at 48, living with this black cloud truly blows.

1. Nature Walk and Observation:
   
   • Encourage songwriters to take a walk in nature, observe surroundings, and draw inspiration from the environment.
2. Photograph Analysis:
   
   • Provide a set of diverse photographs and ask songwriters to create lyrics based on the emotions or stories conveyed in the images.
3. Emotion Mapping:
   
   • Have songwriters create a map of different emotions and then write lyrics corresponding to each emotional zone.
4. Word Association Game:
   
   • Initiate a word association game where each participant contributes words, and then challenge them to turn those words into lyrics.
5. Object Storytelling:
   
   • Ask songwriters to pick an everyday object and craft a song that tells a story related to that object.
6. Literary Exploration:
   
   • Have songwriters read a short story, poem, or novel and use it as a springboard for creating song lyrics.
7. Song Title Challenge:
   
   • Provide a list of intriguing song titles and challenge songwriters to build a story or emotion around each title.
8. Character Creation:
   
   • Ask songwriters to invent a fictional character and write a song from that character's perspective or about their experiences.
9. Current Events Reflection:
   
   • Encourage songwriters to explore current events and write lyrics expressing their thoughts or reactions.
10. Dream Journaling:
    
    • Instruct songwriters to keep a dream journal and use elements from their dreams to inspire song lyrics.
11. Collaborative Storytelling:
    
    • Pair up songwriters to collaboratively create lyrics, merging different perspectives and styles.
12. Random Sentence Generator:
    
    • Use a random sentence generator to spark creativity and challenge songwriters to build a narrative around the generated sentence.
13. Travel Diaries:
    
    • Have songwriters write lyrics inspired by their travel experiences, capturing the essence of different places.
14. Historical Exploration:
    
    • Research a historical event and challenge songwriters to craft lyrics that transport listeners to that moment in time.
15. Dialogue Exercise:
    
    • Create a dialogue between two characters and challenge songwriters to turn the conversation into song lyrics.
16. Mood Board Creation:
    
    • Ask songwriters to create a mood board with images, colors, and textures that inspire a specific mood for their lyrics.
17. Reverse Songwriting:
    
    • Start with a chorus or a hook and challenge songwriters to build the rest of the lyrics around it.
18. Genre Fusion:
    
    • Encourage songwriters to explore different musical genres and write lyrics that blend elements from two or more genres.
19. Song Cover Transformation:
    
    • Pick a well-known song and challenge songwriters to transform the lyrics, creating a completely new story or perspective.
20. Personal Artifact Exploration:
    
    • Have songwriters bring in a personal artifact and write lyrics that delve into the emotions or memories associated with that item.

What was the 80’s show that took place in the Pacific north west, the opening credits had the dad driving in jeep with the top down and a helicopter that could land on water. It was a teen action adventure show and it was the dad, in my head the actor is a fake Allen Thicke but that could just be misplaced 80’s memories, and his two kids, out like, saving orcas or fighting loggers or something like that.

Hello Dr. K and the HealthyGamer community,
I am seeking advice, support, and insights on how to emotionally separate and individuate from my parents later in life, which I should have done much earlier. The adult part of me knows what I need to do, but there's also a part of me that is frightened. Let me give you a snapshot of my life trajectory. The story is long, but I want to provide as much context as possible. If you prefer a short summary of my dilemma, please skip to the last paragraph. Otherwise, here is my life story:
I grew up in a well-to-do family in an East Asian country. My parents had me in their early 20s, just as their business began to flourish during the 'boom years.' Both came from very broken families. My mother experienced poverty, abuse, and neglect from her parents (she did not speak to her dad until he died and almost never acknowledges her mother). My father was the least favorite child in his family of three, dropped out of high school, ended up on the streets, and, as I learned a few years ago, was later imprisoned for fighting. My parents met when my mother was 19 and my father 21, ran away together, and built a very successful business in their early to mid-20s, becoming incredibly wealthy in a generally poor society.
Although we were affluent, my parents were never around. I started boarding at age 3 and spent most of my time outside school with my paternal grandparents and occasionally my maternal grandmother. My parents fought a lot. My mother once threatened to take me away and drove off with me with no specific destination. At one point, she told me she was divorcing my father, and we moved into another apartment for a day before returning home. She emotionally smothered me, saying she would die for me and that no one would love me as much as she did. She also hit me often over small things, sometimes in public. I thought she was better than my father, who, according to her, would remarry quickly if she left or died, subjecting me to abuse from an evil stepmother.
Despite our wealth, my mother took me out of an international school after six months and sent me to a state school known for being strict and militant. I was a 'good, smart kid' in primary school, but around age 12 or 13, I became very depressed and felt life had no purpose. I failed almost all my subjects except History and started drinking, influenced by my father's heavy drinking and a culture that tolerated alcoholism.
Then something happened that saved me in retrospect. My family emigrated to an Anglophone New World country, and I went to another boarding school. Despite experiencing racism and feeling self-conscious about my appearance, I improved academically and, by years 12 and 13, was among the best students. Between ages 13-18, I saw my father rarely, perhaps once or twice a year. My mother visited periodically, and they bought a house near the school, where I lived mostly alone. Like many first-generation immigrant kids, I handled most family matters because my parents couldn't speak English.
When it was time for university, I wanted to study law and politics at the local public university, but my father insisted I go to the UK or the US, believing a degree from the local university would not lead to a good job. He also prevented me from taking a gap year. I regret not leaving home to get a job. I applied to many universities and chose the worst-ranked one in London because I wanted to be in the city.
University was eye-opening. I discovered Europe and realized the world was much bigger than the conformist, conservative East Asian country and backwater suburbs I knew. However, my degree didn't prepare me for life, and my emotionally underdeveloped state made me miserable in adult relationships. I chose emotionally distant or abusive friends, hurt people who liked me, and did no internships or travel because I was expected to help my family during holidays. I wanted to stay in London, looked for random jobs, but had no life skills or work experience. Eventually, I returned to East Asia.
By then, my father had moved to a more cosmopolitan East Asian city, living extravagantly. I interned at a fancy company for almost a year, hoping for a job offer that never came. I soon found a job in brand consulting and finally started earning money at 23. I had a relationship with an older woman, but I was still emotionally detached. I tried freelancing, learned to impress others, and almost made enough to support myself, but I was fundamentally lost and unhappy. I experienced my first depressive episode and decided to return to London for a Master's degree. My father agreed to fund my education.
That year was the happiest of my life. I loved university, research, and being with smart, nerdy people. I met an intelligent, caring, and beautiful woman, and we moved in together. I discovered more fulfilling ways to live and found that success didn't mean working for an investment bank or being rich. I wanted to be an academic, applied for a PhD, and got in after two attempts.
Academia wasn't all rosy. The work conditions were awful, and the publish-or-perish mentality sucked the joy out of research. I loved teaching but quickly learned it mattered little at a 'research university.' I gained weight, my relationship deteriorated, arguments turned physical, and I felt worthless. The pandemic made things worse, and I felt I needed to radically change my life. My solution was to become the person my family wanted: filial, loyal, and rich. I was ready to abandon my life in London and move back to East Asia to 'stop being a loser.'
I returned home, trying to fix my family and shower them with love. I interned at a VC firm, but it clashed with my values, and I cried every day at work. I broke up with my girlfriend for someone with no emotional attachment, leading to great sex but zero intimacy. Within three months, I was broke, living in a short-term rental, and eating unhealthily. Fortunately, I had a therapist, a good friend in Shanghai, and my girlfriend gave me a second chance. I realized my family's emotional neglect contributed to my unhappiness and depression. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and medicated, which helped me move out of paralysis. I confronted my family about their past actions and my diagnosis. My mother reacted poorly, calling me names and accusing me of being a horrible son. This ordeal made me realize I needed to break away from them. What I threw away in London was actually the most valuable: a career, a family, my identity.
After confronting my mother that year, she vowed never to see me again. However, 6-8 months later, she sent me a large sum of money for my birthday. I let her back into my life, partly for financial help but also seeking proof of their love and acceptance. Things improved initially, but soon she started complaining about mistreatment by my partner. Then, my parents promised to buy me a flat and pressured me to get married. I accepted the flat for stability and freedom, ignoring their past behavior. Predictably, the flat became a tool for my mother to control me. She threatened to sue me if my girlfriend moved in and disputed the flat's ownership just weeks before the move-in date. I have a demanding job and spend much of my day dealing with this situation, processing the emotional toll of my mother's actions. I feel unsafe, violated, and confused. I hear a voice telling me this is all my fault and that I'm too weak. I know what I need to do cognitively, but emotionally I'm paralyzed. Do you understand what I mean? What would you do?

I don't even know where to start with this one. I (17M) live with my mom (42F) and dad (45M) as well as my little brother (7M) who we'll call Chris.
Chris is adopted. His mom was my mom's best friend, and her and her husband passed away not long after he was born due to a car accident. My mom was his godmother, and took him in as her own. This was known to me since I was old enough to remember when he got adopted, but Chris wasn't, and he still isn't aware.
I was doing my homework the other night, and realised I was hungry. It was around midnight so I thought no one would be up, and decided to head to the kitchen. To my surprise, Chris was sitting on the floor reading a book in the living room. I came over and asked what he was doing up, and he looked up at me and told me he found a photo album in mom's drawers while looking for his sleeping gummies. He'd had a nightmare and didn't want to wake her, so thought he'd just grab some of his gummies and try and head back to sleep. He begged me not to tell mom or dad he was awake, and asked if he could look at the photos for just a little longer. I felt a little guilty, since I don't get a lot of time with him, so I selfishly let him stay up a while. I figured the photos would give him some positive memories and would give him something better to think about when he went back to bed.
We went to a random page in the book and it was a little before I was born, and they were photos of my mom. She looked beautiful, but I noticed she wasn't showing very much of a bump. Considering my mom is Korean and I know her mother didn't show much either, I figured it must've just been the photo and the dress she was wearing, or maybe the way she was turned from the camera. She was painting something and smiling at the camera, and the photo had a date from a few months before I was born. However, the further I looked, the more it seemed like she just wasn't pregnant at all. She never started showing, even days before I was born. Not only that, but there were no signs of her being pregnant in a celebratory sense, no baby showers, no artistic photos of my dad holding her stomach, nothing. This is bizarre because my parents are both quite artistic and expressive, my mom's a painter and my dad's an ex musician, so I assumed there would be pretty expressive photos of her pregnancy. But nope, nothing. Okay, so I'm adopted. Honestly not an awful surprise but still bizarre that this is how I found out. I got to the day of my birth in the album and I felt my jaw drop.
It was my mom in the hospital. She was holding me in a bundle of blankets, smiling cheerfully. Okay, so I'm not adopted, then what's the deal? But then I notice something. My mom is fully dressed, in her favourite sundress with her makeup and hair done. She doesn't look like a woman who's just given birth at all! However, as I go further through the photos I notice something stranger. There's a photo of another man holding me, right above another photo of a woman laying down, holding me with a smile. It's my aunt and uncle.
For a little backstory, my aunt, who we'll call Mina (46F) and my uncle, Gabriel (44M) are from my dad's side of the family. Gabriel is my dad's brother, and Mina's his wife. When I was 15, we met with my aunt and uncle, as well as my dad's parents, for Chuseok, a Korean holiday (My dad is Korean too). My parents told me this would be my first time meeting my aunt and uncle. However, when they walked in the room, I realised I had seen my aunt before. I couldn't really place it, but I brought it up to them. They all tried to brush it off and not talk about it, and my aunt kept giving me this weird, sad look. And she gave someone else the same sort of look: my mom.
I was in shock. My aunt was clearly the one in the photo who had given birth. The next few photos were of my parents with Mina and I, holding her close and cooing at me, etc. I kept going through and Mina and Gabriel seemed to be so present. They were there all the way until I was about 5, at which point they seemed to disappear from the photos. After a while my mom came in and I shoved the album under the coffee table. I told her to go back to bed and that I'd settle Chris down myself. She sleepily agreed and didn't argue, and went off to bed without another word. I put my brother to bed, and when I came out to the living room, my dad was there. He said he had just come home from my Uncle Gabriel's, that he'd had to stop by work to drop one of the keys off that he accidentally pocketed, and that my Uncle had texted that he was up and wanted to see if my dad wanted to stop on by. This isn't uncommon. My dad and I talked. I didn't mention what I'd found, but I implied he and mom hid a lot of things from me. He seemed to catch on that I'd found something, telling me we can discuss it over lunch tomorrow before his meeting, and then he went to bed. I'm so confused! Why would my parents hide this from me? Are they my parents? Are they actually my aunt and uncle? I don't know what to do! I guess I'll update this when I talk to my dad, but I'm still so confused. Thanks for letting me vent, and sorry if this is a mess.

Our session with Susan on Thursday is still ringing in my ears. Lita and I decided we need to take responsibility for bringing our beautiful family to a higher level. It's time for us to go from takers to givers. (At least sometimes.)
"Let's all eat and go swimming together!"
Sensei (from the May 17 WT article): "Dialogues are like a drama in multiple acts. There are moments when sparks fly and moments of sheer delight when chords of sympathy reverberate. Lively, vigorous dialogue is satisfying and overflowing with dynamism. That is why I give my absolute all to each encounter."
Friday night and it just worked out. Leonard was stuck in a studio session and couldn't make our lesson. After Memorial Day Mom and Dad have Friday afternoons off for the summer. Muma and Pupa had finished their work.
"Meet us at that Peruvian Restaurant on Cypress Avenue and 138th Street!" What they didn't know is that Lita and I packed their swimwear and enough towels for an army.
So we met. As it turns our Pio Pio is a chic and popular restaurant. I've never had rotisserie chicken as good as "Mama Juana's." They have this green sauce ("picante") dip that was so good.
So we talked about this and that. Big things such as the wedding and losing the bid on the property. Little things like Lita's personification of the modeling shoot. She also had us cracking up with a routine of a girl (she) who had to decide on whether or not to go on a tour. She called it "to tour or not to tour."
We ordered Flan and Tres Leches cakes for dessert. We told them that we had packed everything to go swimming at our East Bronx gym. "What? Swimming after this meal?" Veto. Oh well.😜🤪
Lita and I insisted on paying for the dinner. After all, we are now part-time givers.
Did gongyo, going to run. Amazing morning. Jammy playing for brunch and lunch. ALDI tonight.

Hi all.
Now then, I have a good friend called Tim, he was forced into getting a spiderweb face tattoo on his 18th birthday, what happened was him and his friends went out, Tim got horrendously drunk and his so called friends took him to a backstreet tattoo parlour, one of his so called friends uncles owned the place and gave my friend a face tattoo.
His so called friends took him home and when he woke the next morning and looked in the mirror he nearly fainted in shock, it’s ruined his life, he’s 45 now and if it wasn’t for meeting his girlfriend Beth in 2011 he’d be swinging from a rope in the woods, she saw beyond the tattoo to the person underneath, love bloomed and they now live in a caravan in Sudbury, Tim is a Deliveroo rider, Beth has a small Etsy business.
Anyway things have been going sour, Tim only earns on average around £5 per hour, Beth earns £200 a month, with the rent on the caravan being £500 and with bills and everything this means Beth’s dad has been giving them £800-1000 a month, he owns his own roofing company and employs 9 men so he can well afford it.
The thing is, he detests Tim and calls him a lazy scumbag, Tim is in tears most of the time over it.
Tim has been discriminated against all his life, he’s never held down a job for more than a year or so, he went to an interview for Tesco and Sainsburys, they took one look at his tattoo and basically told him where to go, he was a chef in a country pub and the landlord brought in a new waiter who used to make fun of Tim, my friend told the landlord to sack the waiter, he didn’t, so Tim smashed up the kitchen and walked out, he couldn’t face the abuse from the waiter.
Anyway, Beth was looking online and saw a caravan up for rent in a village outside Chelmsford, it’s slightly cheaper at £475 a month, she could continue her Etsy business and Tim could do his delivering in Chelmsford, they said it would be busier than Sudbury and Tim would earn more money.
They asked me to see what people in Essex think, what would you do if you ordered something and my friend delivered it? He’s got long white hair, worry lines on his face, he’s usually in tears, his clothes are ripped and dirty as he can’t afford new ones and they don’t have a washing machine, and one of the soles is off his trainers.
Would you be pleasant and nice to Tim? Give him a nice tip?
Him and Beth want to know before possibly taking the plunge and moving to Essex.

I'm 36(M). I'm 5yrs+ sober now, and long may that last. I came home to visit my folks as it's both my Dad and Mom's birthdays in the last two weeks, so figured it'd be nice to come see them.
We played in a charity golf day, with most holes sponsored. Most sponsors had loads of snacks and drinks (heavy focus on shots, cocktails, or they had drinking games (e.g. down a beer, then flip the cup, and if it lands upright, your playing partner goes)). Luckily I'm able to now not worry about the booze on offer, so I really wasn't phased by that aspect - they all had water or soft drinks too.
Anyway, we get to the one hole with the flip cup game, and my dad awkwardly pulls the promotions lady aside and in a stage whisper pretty much announces "we've got a problem here. [My name] can not drink. We need to make a plan", and she sort of scrambled to get a new cup without booze in it. It was so fucking awkward and unnecessary, and as we drove off in the cart after teeing off, as I was about to start speaking to him about it, he said "I know, I know. Sorry."
I explained to him that he needn't make a thing of this, and it is no different to someone ordering a normal drink. Like it's not "special" that when I order, it needs pulling people aside, whispers, pre-checking what options are available (I.e. literally saying: "what drinks do not have alcohol, we need alcohol-free drinks" rather than just asking what soft-drinks they have).
Anyway, I was frustrated at first because I'm living (well, with a good job, healthy lifestyle, happier life) in a different country, and there is no concern when I'm not with them etc., it's like he just panics when I come visit. But I also thought to myself, that I process my alcoholism and recovery lots in my own life/world, but I suppose my folks went through terrible trauma as a result of my problems, and maybe haven't processed it for themselves yet. So I tried really hard to be understanding, but it was still incredible awkward knowing that this shadow may never leave me in their eyes.
So that's a bit of a shit feeling, but I can't control how he thinks. I do really worry that my father is developing memory problems, and I really fear that he may "remember me" from when I was going through dark times (just because those memories are seemingly prominently stuck with him) than who I am now.
Alcoholism will forever be my biggest shame, and because I'm part of quite an old-school minded family/friendship group, it will also be probably something that those closest to me probably feel too. It sucks. Short of upping and leaving, I suppose this is something I'll just have to live with. Anyway, appreciate anyone reading my frustrated ashamed vent. IWNDWYT

He got the "final" diagnosis last august, passed in february. He was in and out of hospice but there was some comfort in the time before his passing, when he was able to stay at home for a full month until he got a heart attack and passed the night he was taken to a hospital. That at the very least, he didn't spend his final weeks in a hospital.
Anyway, I just wanted to write and rant about how life's been. At the four month mark, life is starting to feel more normal. The sadness weighs heavy and it's always there but as it's commonly described as the crashing waves, the waves do come farther apart. And there's time to heal and breathe and live in between. Happy announcements don't feel like a kick in the stomach anymore - at the beginning, the joy of others felt crushing and unfair. Now a dear friend is pregnant and I'm excited for them and at times, excited for the future. I keep one of my dad's old photos at my desk, a one where he's a young lad in a car with his friends. At first it felt like it just made it more difficult to work, to have that constant reminder there. Still does, a lot of times. But it's there because I don't want to push the grief away, I believe that facing it is the only way to get to the good parts.
I'm trying to stay positive and appreciative of the memories, but my heart goes to all of you - watching the hopeless fight knowing death is at the finish line was the worst thing I experienced. We're all doing our best, be kind to yourselves. For weeks I ruminated on the funeral, picking apart every single thing I may have done wrong, wallowing in shame, putting myself down on the stupidest things - such as not getting a gravestone or a cross - like my dad would've wanted me to go into more debt as a student and by an expensive gravestone right away (There was no heritance, only debt). But the funeral was wonderful, an intimate occasion with friends and family, and did my dad justice.
As my father said to me; "All I hope is that you won't be so sad." I'm trying my best to be happy in between the sadness. I'm not sure what the point here is, maybe that it does get a little easier, and that there is comfort in knowing there's no pain, and that the only thing to do now is to live like your close one wanted you to - regardless of the pain. I believe the biggest strength and courage in life comes from that, to not close off your heart but to keep it open.
Weeks before my dad passed and after, I found a lot of comfort from Duncan Trussel's podcast episode with his mom, who passed away only weeks from cancer after the episode was aired: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2j0POiqOaGw
Really recommend it. Take care <3

I (18m) moved out of my home state two years ago with my mom. My parents are divorced and my dad is remarried and has kids and a stepkid back in our home state. I don't have a good relationship with him so when my mom got an opportunity to move, I told her to take it and bring me with her. A judge agreed that at 16 I was old enough to say I wanted to go and so we went. My dad was really unhappy. So were the rest of his family.
BG: I was 5 when my parents divorced. Dad cheated. He then moved in with his affair partner and they broke up a few months later. So I had a lot of unsettled shit going on then. A couple of months later my dad meets his second wife and her kid who was 1 at the time. They got engaged and married really, really fast. After he moved her in I told him it was going too fast and I asked him to slow down and wait to get married and stuff. He told me it wasn't my decision, he was the adult, he made the choices, and he would do what he wanted and he didn't care how it made me feel because he wasn't going to stay single for me. I never forgot him saying that. The day he did get married is when he realized he had fucked up. Because I "ran away" back home to mom so I wasn't there for the ceremony and I refused to go to the reception either. He told me the day after the wedding that I should really give this a chance and he would prove that this was the best for everyone. But I never wanted to be with my dad from the day he told me what he did to the day mom and I moved. I wished for him to not have custody over me and I never tried to be a part of his family. The rest of them are innocent and I don't hate them or blame them. I just don't care about knowing them. My dad kept hyping me up to his stepkid and later his other bio kids with his wife. So they thought of me as this really cool older brother and they expected a much closer relationship than I wanted to have with them.
When I left it upset them. I got letters and calls from them. I told dad he needed to get it stopped because I wouldn't stay in touch once I was 18.
A few days before my 18th birthday he called me and told me he wanted me to visit for the summer so his family could see me, that his kids missed me. I told him I would not come, not if he paid for everything, not if he begged.
Last week his wife reached out and asked why I hadn't told them my arrival date yet. I ignored her message but then she started calling my mom and to stop her I called her and she asked why I'd go back on my word to visit this summer and how disappointed her kids would be if I didn't show up after they were told I was coming. I told her dad's a liar and I never agreed to visit for the summer. I made it clear I wasn't going to. She got mad and asked me why not and I said I no longer wish to have any contact with them and I ended the call. I then got a bunch of emails sent by her and then by dad who were pissed about what I said.
AITA?

Hello everyone, first of all English isn't my first language, I'm on mobile, and I tend to ramble, so I'm sorry about that. I (34F) am in a short relationship (4 months) with L (28M), he's very kind and sweet, and I'm still adapting to this whole new relationship thing, for this last sentence I'll give you some background. My last serious relationship lasted for 3,5 years between me (24F at the time) and F (21M at the time). It started after we matched on a dating app and we went on our first date. Our first date was crazy perfect, he picked me up on a garden and we went to a tattoo/piercing shop where we got pierced. We talked for hours until evening, and he invited me to eat pizza at his place with his dad lol. It was super late by then, and I lived far far away, so we slept together just cuddling, nothing else. Since then we would meet each other every day. One time (6 months into the relationship) he rear ended another vehicle while going back home. So I decided to move closer to him, because the commute was getting to us. So I did. One week into the new lease, I had an accident and broke my ankle. So he decided that it was better for me to stay at his place to recover (bigger house, access to vehicles, and accessible in general). Three months and two surgeries after I decided it was time for me to go home, but he would convince me to "postpone just one more week" every time, and I would always oblige (I know the little doormat I sometimes am). And things would go like that until I hit the one year mark into that lease. And I said to him "or I move back home or I move definitely here, there's no middle therm", so I moved into his place. I offered to pay rent but he refused. Until this moment the relationship was perfect, his father also lived at that place, and we would always cook together, sing together, go for short trips, etc. But after a while I started to have symptoms of anxiety and depression. Until one day I had a panic attack by just sitting in front of my computer at work. I started to treat that and the doctors said I would have to stop work for a bit, because it was super serious (I don't want to go into too much details for that). At the beginning he was super supportive, but now I know that to have a relationship with someone w/ depression and anxiety it's super hard, 0/10 not recommend. So he and his friends started to be petty to me, and I noticed. One day me, him and his friend went for dinner and I got catchup for me. His friends started to berate me on how catchup is bad for my health and that I should stop using it. I simple replied that every time I see him he is smoking his cigarettes and I never said nothing. Or one time that his friend started to talk bad about gold digger women and insinuate that I was one, because I wasn't working. Before stopping to work I had a career in IT, while my bf had an assistant warehouse job, and I used to earn way more than him (that was never important to me before, honestly). So I said "I know I'm not working, but as soon as I get better I'll earn 4 times more than my bf, so your argument doesn't apply". Just wanted to point out that I had my savings, and I was living off it, paying for food, and other bills. My bf then was very mean and cold to me too, and at one point I asked "Do you want me to move out?" and he said "yes". "After that will you break up with me?" And he said "yes". So I activated my survival mode, and started to work my way into leaving. Between that, and getting a job, I started to pack my things quietly, and applying for jobs. All that while mourning the relationship. For him, I was doing nothing, but I was actually already in the way of signing a new lease, going to interviews and packing my things (and hiding in the house), I wanted to just disappear, I felt humiliated to not be able to leave in the next day after that talk. One day he went after me for sex, and I said "don't be like that, I feel like a piece of meat", he answered "so I'm going downstairs to get some salt then", and from that moment on, all the good feelings I had were replaced by disgust and disdain. A couple days after he asked me what I was going to do on next weekend, because he would go on a trip and wouldn't be home, and I said "nothing". I actually went to help the landlord to clean and paint the new place, since I wanted it to be ready ASAP. And I could move in next Wednesday. When I broke the news to him, he looked surprised and said "already??". So I kinda moved all out in less than a day. After that he would always go after me. I was 27 by then, and from that moment on the idea of a relationship would always make me sick. So I had the crazy teenager phase (since I always had long relationships before) and decided that I would be alone. I started to draw a plan to move to New Zealand, as far away from my ex possible and the plans didn't go through. But 3 years later I moved to Europe, my ex would always send messages saying he missed me, even when he was on a relationship, and in one of my birthdays he sent me a picture from his wallet with my picture in it. I replied politely, but I felt disdain honestly. We haven't talked in years now, honestly, and I'm alright with that. I was single for 7 years icking the idea of going through all that again. Ok, so now, what's happening? I'm 34 now, and I have my cute sweet new boyfriend, and every time he comes here to sleep with me I dream that I sneak out the bed to sleep with my ex. Even though I would never do that, even if he was in other bed next to us. I always feel guilty and dirty, like I'm cheating. I spend the days thinking that I should tell my bf, but I don't want to hurt him. All I feel for my ex is disdain and ick. But I feel like I'm hiding something. What do I do?
TL;DR!: Every time my bf sleeps over, I dream that I sneak out of the bed to go to sleep with my ex, and my brain thinks I'm cheating.

My(19m) stepbrother(13) saw that my book has the word ‘Christmas’ in its title and asked if it’s about Christmas. I told him it is a locked room mystery novel set during Christmas so he asked if he could borrow it. I told him he can read it when I visit my dad(he’s my stepmom’s son). But only during the visits; I’ll take it straight home with me right after.
It’s my favourite book, one that my gf bought as a birthday gift for me. I’ve let my stepbrother borrow several books before but this is the only I won’t let him borrow.
My stepmom said I should be sharing and let him borrow since I only visit every other week. She said it’s mean of me to not let him borrow when I’ve already read the book two times.

I am not The OOP, OOP is u/ThrowRA_wafflehouse
My (29F) Boyfriend (29M) keeps getting into fights with a cook at Waffle House
Originally posted to relationship_advice
Original Post May 11, 2020
I know this sounds really weird, but here it is:
My BF and I have been together for three years. We met and started dating when we were both in graduate school, but I dropped out to go back to college to pursue a different career. We are both finished now, and live together making a fairly nice combined income.
Our income is relevant because we could afford to eat somewhere nice when we're out and about, but he always wants breakfast food. When he was a child his dad couldn't stand eating breakfast-type food in the afternoon or evenings, so his mom would make him waffles/pancakes, eggs, and bacon in the evening whenever his dad was busy or out of town. It's a wonderful and safe memory for him, and when he goes to his "happy place," he says that's where he always goes.
My BF is an incredibly nice and caring person. He's emotionally tuned in to everyone and recognizes arising issues a long time before they occur. He loves animals, and is kind and gentle with every bug, bird, and pet that he comes across. He's almost always willing to turn the other cheek in social situations where somebody tries to insult him or get aggressive towards him, and usually winds up defusing the situation and having a productive discussion about whatever the issue was. Except at Waffle House.
Anytime we're out he wants to go to the same goddamn Waffle House and get breakfast food. I'm not a big eater, so I used to not really care. I would just drink coffee and read my book while he enjoyed his food. But that became impossible once he and this one cook started chirping at each other every time we went there. BF complained about his eggs one time, because he likes them a little runny and they were served hard. The cook responded by giving him scrambled eggs. When he brought it up again the cook served him two hardboiled eggs. I think it was just part of the cook's schtick, and it was kind of funny tbh, but my BF wasn't able to laugh it off. When we left he was in kind of a bad mood, but we didn't really talk about it.
The next week we were out getting some shopping done, and he wanted to go to Waffle House again. I suggested that we try out a different place, or at least a different Waffle House location, but he only wanted the same Waffle House. We went in and sat down, and once again the same cook served his eggs wrong. My BF sort of snapped at him that he wasn't interested in messing around, and just wanted the correct eggs. The cook then served him a piece of toast with a hole cut out in the middle with a fried egg in it. My BF got really mad and threw the egg toast at the cook, which made the cook come around from behind the bar and throw it back at him. They ended up sort of wrestling/fighting until my BF was like "this is bullshit" and walked out. Nobody got hurt, but the few other people in there were watching and laughing a bit.
This is the crazy part: my BF keeps going back and ordering eggs and getting into fistfights with the same cook. It's almost a ritual at this point. My BF orders runny eggs, the cook serves him some other version of eggs, and then they beat the shit out of each other. I quit going with him after the second fight, but he kept going by himself. They're like Peter and the giant chicken from Family Guy, it's the weirdest thing. They've physically fought like 6 or 7 times over this.
I've tried to talk to him about it a few times, but he keeps saying it's a matter of principle. I've told him to talk to the manager or something like that, but he just waves me off. Apparently that cook hasn't yet made him the correct runny eggs, but it's like he spends the week learning new ways of preparing eggs to piss my boyfriend off.
The thing is, we're getting married this summer. He's accepted a job in a new city and it'll be easy for me to find work after the wedding, so we'll be moving away from his sworn enemy waffle house guy. He hasn't really been out since quarantine started, but it wouldn't surprise me if that's the first place he goes when restaurants open back up for sitting customers. But my main worry is this strange vindictive side of him I've never seen before that leads him to fight the same guy every week. The violence itself is an issue for me, but the obsession over it almost bothers me more.
Should I be worried that this side of him will come up later in our marriage? How do I get him to open up about this? Is this type of obsession a choice, or is it indicative of something deeper?
THIS IS A REPOST SUB - I AM NOT THE OOP. DO NOT CONTACT THE OOP OR COMMENT ON THE ORIGINAL POST

A Luc Bat is a traditional Vietnamese verse form that consists of alternating lines of six and eight syllables. The structure typically follows a pattern where each six-syllable line (short line) is followed by an eight-syllable line (long line). The final short line of the poem rhymes with the preceding long line, creating a rhyme scheme that continues throughout the poem.
The term "Luc Bat" translates to "six-eight" in English, reflecting the alternating line lengths. This form is often used for narrative poetry and has been employed in various Vietnamese literary works.
😅😅😅😅😅😅😅😅
In the pot, a symphony of flavors brews (6) Simmering broth, a dance that slowly stews (8) Carrots and onions, a colorful blend (6) Aromas rise, a savory trend (8)
Chunks of beef, tender and succulent (6) Herbs and spices, a fragrant testament (8) Potatoes absorb the savory delight (6) Stew's embrace, a comforting night (8)
With ladle in hand, we savor each spoon (6) A hearty concoction, a culinary tune (8) In the warmth of stew, memories accrue (6) A bowl of comfort, a homely view (8)

I’ve never written a question on this app before but this is eating at me. BUCKLE UP THIS IS LONG!
So my husband’s family have been abusive to him, he is the black sheep of his family he is the youngest and has a different father than his older siblings (8,6 years older).
Ever since I started dating him I was antagonized in some way. When I first met his family for Christmas his middle brother invited his ex-girlfriend to hang out, unbeknownst to my then bf which was awkward but she was fine with me. My boyfriend then was really sick and I took the train 2 hours to pick him up from his home (where his family was with their cars) and take him to a hospital in London. He was there for 6 days not one person visited him but me. They made fun of him and minimized his illness.
Then we moved to my home country the US and eloped. They came to visit a few years later his mom and eldest brother were okay. Middle brother again constantly throwing barbs and digs at me completely unprovoked. I get there may be a culture difference they are White English conservatives, I’m African American. Shortly after we married he dated a black girl, who left bc she was also treated poorly. Some examples of digs; I congratulated him on graduating and asked him when he finished he replied “same time you were supposed to” (I dropped out). Then I asked what the he loved most and what was challenging about being a PT and he replied “no offense, working with fat people.” Took them to multiple meals and covered everything which wasn’t cheap, he complained about the food being “reheated” and bitched when he was ID’d.
Things get progressively worse, middle brother has a precious baby. I want to spoil her and become close with the mother of the child (who is not with him due to his creepy behavior). We form a fast friendship and chat all the time about the baby. My brother in-law tortures this girl denies he is the dad but also goes out of his way to bully her (she’s not breast feeding right, she shouldn’t have pacifiers) all from the comfort of his home. He is also constantly complaining about having to pay $50 a week in child support nonstop saying he is going “bankrupt”. My hubby is part of a group chat and my mother-in-law talks ish about my friend and my hubby is telling me. I ask to see and his brother is actively trying to give his soon to be 1 year old daughter eggs and gluten that his ex told him she was allergic to and they are plotting to do this during her birthday and explicitly NOT tell my friend the mom of his baby. The reasoning was “I’m the father, I deserve to be respected, I can make choices to” but he is extremely sneaky. I show my friend/baby’s mom the messages and all hell breaks loose because of course he lies and gets caught. I would have told him off directly but he blocked me because he was mad at how close I was getting to his ex. I am called a “despicable woman” dragged in their chat, made to seem that I’m spying on my husband and accused of being jealous and sabotaging my niece’s birthday party. My husband says nothing in my defense just goes along like he didn’t send me the photos of their chat…
They don’t know I’m pregnant at this time and I chose not to tell any of my in-laws due to how awful they are. I also don’t believe in telling anyone that would wish ill on me and my baby (bad juju), but my bestie the baby mom knows. I give birth his mom has an absolute tantrum says incredibly awful things to my husband, reaches out to my mom to wish her congratulations on her grandchild and says “i guess I will learn to love him.”
Then my friend the mom gets diagnosed with cancer and wants to keep this secret and makes me promise, she kept my secret pregnancy it is the least I could do. She dies a few months later and my brother in law attacks her for not telling him and claims she is a horrible mother. He takes custody of his daughter.
Fast forward the eldest brother meets this hog woman. She is rotund and English, very ignorant and rude. The first interaction I had she thought she knew so much, decides to bash my dead friend’s parenting, call my dead father in law “weird”, tells me my niece eats everything now due to having a “good parent” and called my apt in NYC “embarrassing” bc it had scaffolding on google maps when she looked me up (like a creep). She then antagonizes me in a variety of slick ways including posting the eldest brother with my niece with the caption “uncle B’s favorite!” On my son’s birthday. Most recently I tell his family that we want to actually have a proper wedding and celebrate after 10 years of marriage, i give them 2 years notice. The hog says “ohhh me and the eldest are planning on getting married then.” I ask why she says “nice weather”. She then proceeds to have a fall wedding (orange, red, greens, pumpkins, barley, wheelbarrows etc.” in May. I try to be the bigger person and send a kind welcome and she leaves me on read.
I hate these people, I need to let this go. My husband says that we should just go on continuing our happy life and not “start problems”. But it feels like so much awfulness to have to swallow. I also feel like if/when I do speak up I’m the hysterical angry black woman and this hog is the “innocent”. The whole thing is so so frustrating but I need to let it go even though I want them to hurt emotionally as much as they have hurt us.
Any recommendations, would you want revenge? There is so much more but I have written a novel already. I feel alone like no one has my back or tries to understand my perspective. They are so sneaky and underhanded. I want to protect my family from these sick people. At the same time I want justice, justice for my husband, for my dead bestie, for me son and for me.